Thomas Aquinas's Relics as Focus for Conflict and Cult in the Late Middle Ages: The Restless Corpse (Crossing Boundaries: Turku Medieval and Early Modern Studies) 9089648739, 9789089648730

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CROSSING BOUNDARIES

Marika Räsänen

Thomas Aquinas’s Relics as Focus for Conflict and Cult in the Late Middle Ages

The Restless Corpse

Thomas Aquinas’s Relics as Focus for Conflict and Cult in the Late Middle Ages

Crossing Boundaries Turku Medieval and Early Modern Studies The series from the Turku Centre for Medieval and Early Modern Studies (TUCEMEMS) publishes monographs and collective volumes placed at the intersection of disciplinary boundaries, introducing fresh connections between established fields of study. The series especially welcomes research combining or juxtaposing different kinds of primary sources and new methodological solutions to deal with problems presented by them. Encouraged themes and approaches include, but are not limited to, identity formation in medieval/early modern communities, and the analysis of texts and other cultural products as a communicative process comprising shared symbols and meanings. Series Editor Matti Peikola, University of Turku, Finland

Thomas Aquinas’s Relics as Focus for Conflict and Cult in the Late Middle Ages The Restless Corpse

Marika Räsänen

Amsterdam University Press

Cover illustration: Biblioteca nazionale di Napoli, Codex VIII.B.9, f. 93v Cover design: Coördesign, Leiden Lay-out: Crius Group, Hulshout Amsterdam University Press English-language titles are distributed in the US and Canada by the University of Chicago Press. isbn 978 90 8964 873 0 e-isbn 978 90 4852 737 3 (pdf) doi 10.5117/9789089648730 nur 684 © Marika Räsänen / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2017 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book. Every effort has been made to obtain permission to use all copyrighted illustrations reproduced in this book. Nonetheless, whosoever believes to have rights to this material is advised to contact the publisher.



Table of Contents

Acknowledgements 7 Introduction 9 The material and allegorical presence of the Saint’s remains 9 The long last journey of Thomas’s dust 11 The Thomas relic cults 14 Readings of the corpse: textual, allegorical, and iconographic 18 A note on the spelling of names 25 1 The Death of Thomas, 7 March 1274 The memory of Thomas’s arrival at the Monastery of Fossanova At Thomas’s bedside Visions of the last breath The funeral

27 28 39 52 62

2 The Miraculous Body in Fossanova Hidden corpse, revealed sainthood The tomb at the centre of liturgical practices ‘Blessed Thomas, the saint corpse, release me from this fever’ Divided body, fragmented sanctity

73 73 86 104 119

3 Thomas’s Land—Praesentia among the Faithful Becoming the Patron Saint of Priverno Rays of sainthood around Fossanova The strongholds of Thomas’s cult in Southern Italy The treasure in Fondi

135 136 150 168 185

4 Written Remembrance of the Remains A problematic possession in the hagiography Memorial practices of the body on Thomas’s Feast Day Promoting the rightful ownership of Thomas’s corpse Thomas’s Neapolitan memory The importance of the matter

203 204 217 233 242 249

Conclusion: The Endless Story

259

Appendix 1: DE SANCTO Thome de Aquino Transcription from the manuscript Vat. lat. 10153.

269 269

Abbreviations 273 Bibliography 275 Index 301

List of Illustrations Illustration 1 Illustration 2 Illustration 3 Illustration 4a Illustration 4b Illustration 5 Illustration 6 Illustration 7 Illustration 8 Illustration 9 Illustration 10 Illustration 11 Illustration 12

Thomas’s Land map 26 The soul of Thomas Aquinas at the moment of his death 57 The Transitus of St Dominic’s soul 60 Thomas’s funeral 66 Lamenting women wearing the habits of Dominican nuns 66 Thomas’s green corpse at Fossanova 70 The placement of the tomb-shrine of Thomas Aquinas in the apse of the main church of Fossanova 91 One of four medallions representing Thomas’s shrine 92 The lunette above the door of the refectory depicting St Thomas Aquinas, the Virgin Mary and child and St Anthony the Hermit 103 San Tommaso Church, Roccasecca 174 The opening of Thomas’s liturgical feast, ms. 190 at the Archivio del Duomo, Orvieto 175 The altar panel depicting the Madonna and child and its commissioner, Museo del Duomo di Anagni 178 Thomas’s altar at the Dominican Church of Salerno 217

Acknowledgements This book is the fruit of several years of study, first in Rome while I worked as an assistente scientifico at ‘Villa Lante’, the Finnish Institute of Rome, later as a project researcher at the Turku Centre for Medieval and Early Modern Studies, and finally as postdoc researcher in the research project ‘Modus vivendi: Religious reform and laity in late medieval Europe’, directed by Marjo Kaartinen and funded by the Academy of Finland. My original research on the history of the body of Thomas Aquinas was undertaken as a PhD thesis at the Department of Cultural History at the University of Turku. As I have had the privilege to be a member of several academic communities during the course of my studies, I have accumulated many debts of gratitude, both professional and personal. I have benefited greatly from the encouragement, guidance, and trust of my supervisors, Hannu Salmi and Marjo Kaartinen. I am grateful to my opponent Constant Mews and to my pre-examiner Maiju Lehmijoki-Gardner for their valuable comments and suggestions; without their contribution, this study would be much less worthwhile than it is now. I am also grateful to Stefano Pagliaroli, a specialist in the history of Fossanova, who has meticulously read my manuscript and corrected many of my errors. Sofia Boesch Gajano has had an influential role in my thinking on hagiography, through both our discussions and her own texts. She also read a part of the present text and made thoughtful comments regarding Thomas’s cult in South Lazio, for which I am deeply indebted. The valuable criticism, tireless support, and joint adventures with the Modus vivendi researchers, Meri Heinonen, Reima Välimäki, and Teemu Immonen have made the writing process easier and more enjoyable than it would have been without their comments and companionship. Jochen Johrendt has warmly welcomed me and offered a rich and stimulating environment for study at the Department of History of the Bergische Universität of Wuppertal, where I spent two months in 2014. The period was crucial for extending my knowledge of the liturgical manuscript sources of Thomas’s feasts. I also owe my thanks to Éric Palazzo, who has invited me to continue my studies at the CESCM in Poitiers in 2016. We have already been colleagues for a considerable time and I have enjoyed our lively discussions on methodological matters, which have had a great impact on my thinking. Among all the places in the world Villa Lante is special: I am grateful to the former director of the institute, Christian Krötzl, and the intendent Simo Örmä, as well as to its many members who also became close friends, for their encouragement and help. Among the Italian colleagues, I owe an

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THOMAS AQUINAS’S RELICS AS FOCUS FOR CONFLIC T AND CULT IN THE L ATE MIDDLE AGES

enormous debt to Professor Francesco Scorza Barcellona, who helped me in several ways to familiarize myself with the Italian academic environment. I owe a special thanks to Dr. Philip Line: without his diligent reading, suggestions about the contents of the manuscript and corrections to my English, the book would have been a mere shadow of its present form. I am indebted to Kalle Korhonen and Seppo Heikkinen for their help with some difficult Latin verses, and Juhana Heikonen for drawing the map ‘Thomas’s land’. Kirsi Salonen from the editorial board of the Crossing Boundaries series has performed an enormous task by reading and commenting on my work, as well as by correcting my expressions and typing errors. I also have to thank Matti Peikola, the editor-in-chief of the Crossing Boundaries series, for having accepted my contribution to it, not to mention the whole staff of the AUP for their professional attitude. This study would not have been possible without the support of many institutions, especially the Turku Centre for Medieval and Early Modern Studies and the Institutum Romanum Finlandiae. I gratefully acknowledge the scholarships awarded by the Kone Foundation, the Finnish Cultural Foundation, the Jenny and Antti Wihuri Foundation, the Turku University Foundation, the Oskar Öflund Foundation, and the Italian government. I have worked in a number of archives and libraries, especially the Vatican Library, the École française de Rome, the American Academy in Rome, the Archivio generale dell’ordine dei Predicatori, the Archivio and Biblioteca dei Predicatori in Bologna, the Instituto storico dei domenicani in Rome, the Biblioteca nazionale di Napoli, the Biblioteca nazionale di Firenze, the Bibliothèque municipale of Colmar, the Bibliothèque nationale de France, the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, the National Library of Helsinki, and the Archives of Monte Cassino. I would like to thank their staff for their helpfulness. At certain points during my academic life I have had the good fortune to meet some exceptional persons who have also become my dearest friends: Liisa Lagerstam, Kirsi Majantie, Jaakko Tahkokallio, Laura Mastroddi, Ria Berg, Gritje Hartmann, Jesse Keskiaho, and Heli Rantala. I thank them all for caring. The final word is reserved for my family: My most tender thanks go to my daughter Livia, who has given me her absolute trust and admiration, feelings which communicate themselves to me and stimulate me to go further. The trust and love of my husband, my mother, my sister, and all my extended family have always had a huge significance for me, a significance I feel I have given inadequate expression to. This is a suitable place to express my enormous gratitude. In Villa Lante, 3 December 2015

Introduction The material and allegorical presence of the Saint’s remains But now we beseech you, out of our gratitude and devout affection towards the memory of so great a cleric, so great a father, so great a master, in your generosity to grant us the bones of him now dead whom we could not recover alive; for it were surely in the highest degree improper and unworthy that any town or place other than Paris, than this the noblest of all university cities, should guard the bones of him whose youth was nourished, fostered, and educated here at Paris, which then received from him in return the inexpressible benefit of his teaching. Does not the Church rightly honour the bones and relics of her saints? Then is this not a desire both reasonable and pious that we should wish to give lasting honour to the body of such a master? Thus he whose fame is kept green amongst us by his writings, may also, by the remembered presence of his tomb in our city, live on forever in the hearts of our posterity.1

This book is about the dust of one of the most famous medieval philosophers, Thomas Aquinas (1224/5-1274). It is remarkable that, shortly after his death, Thomas’s dust was not simply perceived as the physical remains of a philosopher, but as a holy relic. Today, however, Thomas’s saintly status is largely forgotten. For Thomas’s contemporaries, both the body and the theology seem to have been indistinguishable, as the above letter attests. It was written at the University of Paris in May 1274. Despite this petition, the corpse remained at Fossanova, a Cistercian Monastery in Southern Italy and the place of Thomas death on 7 March. There the remains became the focus of veneration, desires, and disputes between the Cistercians of Thomas’s death place and the Dominican friars, not to mention kings, popes, Thomas’s own family, and other laypeople, from Thomas’s death in 1274 until the removal of the most important parts of his remains to France in 1368. The study seeks to understand how Thomas’s remains were perceived during the period when the corpse was guarded in Southern Italy (1274-1368). 1 The citation is from the letter of the Faculty of Arts of the University of Paris sent to the General Chapter of the Dominican Order on 2 May 1274: Laurent, 1937, pp. 583-586. The translation from Latin into English is by Foster, 1959. The significance of the letter from the viewpoint of the Faculty of Arts is discussed, for example, in Kretzmann and Stump, 1993, pp. 13-14. See Birkenmajer, 1922, pp. 1-32, and 1925.

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THOMAS AQUINAS’S RELICS AS FOCUS FOR CONFLIC T AND CULT IN THE L ATE MIDDLE AGES

A special focus of attention is the perception of the Cistercians, the Dominicans, and the laity of Southern Italy—among whom Thomas’s family were the most important. Through an interaction between the remains of the theologian and these three groups, the dead body was defined and redefined among contemporaries. The basis of this interaction was the idea of the concrete presence of the saint in his or her relics, which gave the latter their significance. According to the commonly shared theological concept, a saint, from the moment of the death, continued to live both in heaven and on earth in his or her corpse and every piece of it.2 The relic was a material representation of the Saints’ presence in the place where it was located.3 Together with this corporeal presence, I study the situations in which the presence of Thomas’s corpse was created by other media such as texts, liturgy, iconography, or material objects other than body part relics. 4 The saint’s presence created by any medium enabled an interaction which affected both the relics and the devotees. The question of perception thus has two aspects, material and allegorical: the former centred on his actual remains and the latter on Thomas’s corpse as ‘imagined’ through liturgical or other cultic practices and in some rare cases, everyday activities. In both situations the relics were made visible, tangible, audible, and even possible to smell and taste. In other words, if the corpse was not materially present, it was possible to create it verbally, pictorially, or allegorically from elements that were not directly connected to Thomas’s remains, to the extent that the presence of the corpse was even perceptible by nose or mouth. Both of these praesentiae, physical and imagined, were equally real to the listener or spectator. My central argument is that although medieval communities were able to create the real presence of Thomas’s corpse within them by different techniques, the question of the material presence of Thomas’s remains became increasingly important. For this reason, the central thread of the present study is the problematic issue of the possession of the saint’s dust, the origins of which I discuss in Chapter I. According to a classic study of Nicole Herrmann-Mascard’s Les reliques des saints. Formation coutumière d’un droit (1975), medieval Canon law did not provide clear regulations regarding the possession of relics. Herrmann-Mascard suggests, and my study would seem to bear this out, that studying the practices of handling the relics, texts of 2 Boesch Gajano, 1999a. 3 Brown, 1983, pp. 10-11. 4 For a recent and enlightening discussion on the presence of the saint through language and texts in the Middle Ages, see Malo, 2013.

Introduction 

11

theologians, and other related matters would reveal case-specific interpretations of the commonly shared conception of rights to possess the relics.5 The question of the right possessor and location for Thomas Aquinas’s corpse had a very powerful influence on the discussion of his sainthood and the texts concerning his afterlife for a hundred years after his death. In Chapter II, I focus on Fossanova during the period when Thomas’s physical remains lay in a tomb there, and analyze the ways in which Thomas’s corporeal presence was materialized by architecture, iconography, and liturgy to serve the devotion of both monks and laity at the Abbey that was his original resting place. Very few lay communities had the honour of having Thomas’s relics in their custody. Even so, the laity perceived the presence of the corpse powerfully within a short distance of Fossanova, or they experienced its presence via single body part relics, or items or places linked to the body or around the Monastery. The imagined presence of Thomas and his corpse in the lay perception is handled in Chapter III. A view of Thomas that contrasted in some ways to that of Fossanova was created initially by the Dominicans from Southern Italy, eulogized Thomas’s thaumaturgic body. They did this through their texts, which were created and used in isolation from the corpse or relics. These narratives reveal a perception of Thomas’s remains, even an intense relationship with them, yet without access to them. The Dominicans created Thomas’s praesentia in their own minds and those of congregations or spectators with the use of the relics through text and ritual, as I will argue in Chapter IV. Even though the relics were not materially present, a devotee could sense the body of Thomas with the help of the liturgy, involving the use of chant, candlelight, incenses, and gestures.6 We should not, however, allow these experiences of Thomas’s presence to lead us to forget that the saint’s materiality, especially in his or her relics, continued to be central in late medieval culture.

The long last journey of Thomas’s dust Thomas Aquinas died in the Cistercian Monastery of Fossanova on 7 March 1274, and his body was buried in the Monastery. From its beginnings as an ordinary memorial site the tomb grew to become a pilgrimage place. 5 Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, pp. 313-314. 6 For similar approaches to materiality through art and liturgy in the Middle Ages, see the studies of Éric Palazzo, especially Palazzo, 2010a, pp. 25-56. The roots of experiencing the presence of the saintly person with all the senses were, however, in Late Antiquity: Brown, 1983, pp. 10-11.

12 

THOMAS AQUINAS’S RELICS AS FOCUS FOR CONFLIC T AND CULT IN THE L ATE MIDDLE AGES

Commemorative and cultic practices were pursued on a large scale at the tomb by the monks of the Monastery, Thomas’s family and other laypeople, as well as the Dominican friars on occasion, had a significant role in turning Thomas’s remains into valuable relics.7 The most important reason for the continuous revaluation of Thomas’s remains, however, was that Thomas, a member of the Dominican Order, died in a Cistercian house. The Cistercian community considered him theirs, but so too did the Dominicans. According to the Dominicans, it would have been justified and natural to place their spiritual brother and praised saint in one of their own churches. The famous Dominican preacher Remigio de’ Girolami expressed this view very clearly: ‘Oh, why does Fossanova keep these bones of the venerable Thomas? I beg that they could be moved from there and be kept by the Dominicans’.8 Nonetheless, the Cistercians managed to hold their treasure and guard it against all rivals, Dominican Preachers, and others, for decades. The question of the right location for Thomas Aquinas’s corpse was, however, far more complex than a straightforward quarrel between two religious Orders, the Cistercians and the Dominicans. The prerequisites for a lively and varied interaction with the dead Thomas were present deep within Southern Italian culture. Thomas was originally from the area where he died, a fact which offered an excellent starting point for his cult at his death place in Fossanova. He was a member of a local family, that of the counts of Aquino. He was born in one of the family castles, at Roccasecca, in an area between the Papal States and the Kingdom of Naples.9 Although the family was no longer at the height of its power, it was nonetheless important.10 Thomas’s local origins and noble descent were emphasized in the Dominican literature for centuries.11 7 On the interaction between the dead and the living, see Boesch Gajano, 1999a, p. 20, and 1999b; Canetti, 2002, pp. 26-27, 92. 8 ‘Heu nova cur Fossa / tenet hec venerabilis ossa? / Obsecro tollantur, / a fratribus hec teneantur’. For the edited rhyme, see Salvadori, 1901, p. 505; Laurent, 1937, p. 589. Salvadori does not date the rhyme precisely, but places it between 1270 and 1319, with Remigio’s other texts which he has also edited for the article. Thomas’s ode can probably be dated to the end of that period. 9 Different places have claimed to be Thomas’s place of birth, with variable degrees of justification: among them are Roccasecca, Aquino, Belcastro in Calabria, and Naples. See Walz, 1961b, pp. 24-28. Nowadays, scholars are almost unanimous about the birthplace. For a recent study of Thomas’s biographical data, see Porro, 2012. 10 The roots of the family have been traced back to 887, when Rodiperto, a Lombard, got the title of Castaldus of Aquino from Adenolfo, the Count, later Prince, of Capua: Walz, 1961b, pp. 21-22; le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, pp. 96-97. 11 For example, Ystoria, II; the lections for Thomas’s feast day, lectio I, Appendix.

Introduction 

13

Not only Thomas’s family roots, but his intellectual roots, too, could be traced to the area. Thomas’s connection with the religious institutes of Southern Italy began in c. 1230, when he was sent to the Monastery of Montecassino at the age of five or six to be educated as a Benedictine monk.12 After studies at Montecassino, Thomas was sent to Naples to have a more intense education.13 In 1244, in Naples, Thomas joined the Dominicans. This event was without doubt important for the local Dominicans, as the memory of the occasion lived on among the friars and had already been written down in the general history of the Order by 1259.14 Despite entering the Order of Preachers and making a vow to cut off the bonds with his secular family, as was customary, Thomas maintained close relations with his relatives in Southern Italy. He was often seen as a guest in the castles and estates of his family and friends.15 Although Thomas had an impressive international academic career, he was most closely linked to Southern Italy. He is most well known as the master of the University of Paris, but he also taught in Italy, in Naples, Orvieto, Rome, and Viterbo.16 The location of Thomas’s tomb, his birth, his family, and his early career as well as his later connections to Naples and the surrounding region made him first and foremost a Southern Italian saint. It is not surprising that on the eve of his feast day, that is, on the vespers of 6 March, the choir began to chant an antiphon ‘Blessed Thomas, Doctor of the church, light of the world, splendour of Italy’.17 At the same time, when the veneration of Thomas penetrated deeper and spread more widely among the Southern Italian communities, the dispute about the possession of his relics became more intense. Finally in 1368, Pope Urban V resolved the quarrel and decided to place Thomas’s corpse into the care of the Order of Preachers in Toulouse, the city of his own education and academic carrier.18 The new feast day for the translation of the corpse (28 January) was set, and the memory, if not the corpse, was divided between two locations, as described at the beginning of the translation festivities: ‘Oh, 12 Opinions are divided on whether Thomas became an oblatus of the Monastery or not: more about the different views in Leccisotti, 1940, and 1965; Walz, 1961a, pp. 29-32. On the intellectual culture of the Monastery, most recently: Immonen, 2012. 13 Walz, 1961a, pp. 36-37. 14 On the story of his entry into the Order: Räsänen, 2010; Tilatti, 2003. The classic study of the subject is Mandonnet, 1924-1925. 15 On Thomas’s career, see le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996. On Thomas’s relations with his family, see Tilatti, 2003; Räsänen, 2010. 16 As regards all the above mentioned themes in Thomas’s life, see Torrell, 1996; Weisheipl, 1983. 17 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 429vb: ‘Felix Thomas doctor ecclesie lumen mundi splendor Ytalie’. 18 On the politics of the Pope regarding the transfer, see Delaruelle, 1955.

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THOMAS AQUINAS’S RELICS AS FOCUS FOR CONFLIC T AND CULT IN THE L ATE MIDDLE AGES

how happy is mother Italy, having sent out the ray of new sun, and equally happy has Gaul become, having acquired the mantle of the sun’.19 The remains rested in peace in a rebuilt Dominican Church of Toulouse until the years of the Reformation, although discussion of their real location, especially the location of the head, continued during the following centuries.20

The Thomas relic cults This book argues that in consequence of the interaction between the relics and communities, as well as individuals, a variety of Thomas Aquinas’s relic cults flourished in several places of Southern Italy at the same time. Because of encounters and clashes between different groups of devotees over the relics, Thomas’s corpse and its parts were continuously redefined: between the years 1274 and 1368 Thomas’s body was translated or elevated several times inside the Monastery of Fossanova, and also two times between the Monastery and the nearby Castle of Fondi after the mid-fourteenth century. In addition, Fossanova donated a number of single relics to individuals and neighbouring communities. Every new location or depiction of the relic affected to the ways in which its (or Thomas’) praesentia was created or recreated and perceived. For this reason, the method of examining the sources adopted in this book is to strongly contextualize and localize them, in order to identify place and time-related interaction between Thomas’s remains and the community that venerated his physical or imagined relics. However, the study has a wider purpose, as a reappraisal of the significance of tangible and material experience in the Late Middle Ages. Despite the colourful history of his corpse and his popularity as a philosopher, Thomas Aquinas the saint was largely neglected in modern scholarship until the awakening of interest in his remains in the last decade.21 It is surprising that Thomas and other medieval Dominican saints, with the sole 19 ‘O quam felix mater Ytalia / Novi solis enixa radium / Eque felix effecta Gallia / Solis hujus adepta pallium’. See Douais, 1903, p. 238. The translation is from an as yet unpublished article by Constant Mews entitled ‘The Historia translationis sacri corporis Thome Aquinatis of Raymundus Hugonis’. I am indebted to Professor Mews for sharing his knowledge and several unpublished papers on Thomas Aquinas’s cult. 20 Magnoni Valenti, 1772; Masetti, 1874; Montagne, 1923. 21 The most recent study concentrating on Thomas’s corpse or relics before 2000s is Delaruelle, 1955. To this may be added the recent articles by Mews, 2009a and 2009b; Räsänen, 2005, 2010, 2012, and 2013, and a monograph of Giovanni Maria De Rossi (2013) on the longue durée of Thomas’s cult and relics at the Monastery of Fossanova.

Introduction 

15

exception of Catherine of Siena, have not enjoyed much popularity recently, certainly in comparison with Franciscan saints, and especially Francis of Assisi.22 The history of Thomas’s relics is a tale of devotion and veneration, but also of deviousness, treachery, and aggrandisement. It provides abundant possibilities for study, yet has largely been told in books published in the nineteenth and the early twentieth century. Among these books, the most important is a collection of medieval documents relating to Thomas’s relics, transcribed by Douais and entitled Les reliques de Saint Thomas d’Aquin. Textes originaux. Also interesting is Cartier’s rather free translation of the original texts, as well as Mortier’s study of the translation of Thomas’s relics from Italy to France.23 Important among modern works for any study connected to the medieval image of Saint Thomas, mine included, is Claire le Brun-Gouanvic’s edition of the Ystoria sancti Thome de Aquino, with a substantial introduction about Thomas’s life.24 Just as important as insightful introductions to Thomas’s life and the basics of the cult are Jean-Pierre Torrell’s Initiation à Saint Thomas d’Aquin and James A. Weisheipl’s Friar Thomas Aquinas.25 Since the majority of the studies about Thomas Aquinas’s relics are more than a century old, there is a necessity for an updated survey with an approach that takes into account the recent and extensive scholarship of hagiography, which has flourished especially from the late 1970s onwards. Especially inspiring to me have been the studies of Sofia Boesch Gajano, Patrick Geary, and André Vauchez.26 These scholars have emphasized the literary and concrete situations of the interaction between the relic, its location and devotional community to the processes in which the content and significance of medieval relic cults were born, lived, and transformed.27 Previous scholarship has enabled me to recognize the mechanisms which 22 The first three Dominican saints have shared the same fate, although there are some recent and noteworthy studies on Saint Dominic: Canetti, 1996, and on Saint Peter Martyr: Prudlo, 2008. 23 Douais, 1903; Cartier, 1854; Mortier, 1907. 24 Le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996 and 2005. 25 Torrell, 1996; Weisheipl, 1983. One of the most recent biographical studies on Thomas Aquinas is Porro, 2012. In this, however, Thomas’s last weeks and afterlife have been condensed into a few pages. 26 Geary, 1990 and 1994a; Vauchez, 1989; Boesch Gajano, 2008, 1999a, and 1999b. Other important researchers and their works for the basic formation of my interest in saints’ relics have been Angenendt, 1997; Brown, 1983 (orig. 1980); Delahaye, 1961; Heinzelmann, 1979; Herrmann-Mascard, 1975; Webb, 1996; Wilson, 1986. For an interesting overview of the studies of hagiography, see Schmitt, 1984. During the writing process of this book several interesting studies on saints’ relics were published, with gratifyingly similar approaches to mine: see especially Malo, 2013. 27 For similar ideas of functions and definitions regarding pictures of saints, see Belting, 1996.

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THOMAS AQUINAS’S RELICS AS FOCUS FOR CONFLIC T AND CULT IN THE L ATE MIDDLE AGES

changed the perception of the relics. 28 It is clear that there were many similarities between Thomas’s cult, and those of other saints. It is, however, important to recognize that the eternal features connected to Thomas’s personality and deeds, whatever they had in common with other saint’s lives, were always adapted to or interpreted according to the current age and place.29 This is the main reason why the study of Thomas’s relic cult is important as such: scrutiny of the cult opens often a unique perspective to the understanding people had of their surrounding culture. During the last decade, more attention has been given to the material processes used to make relics more valuable by displaying them in artistically elaborate reliquaries or monumentalized altars, even chapels.30 Italian medievalists have been among the leading figures in the field, naming the process tesaurizzazione of the relics.31 This aspect of relic devotion is also taken into account in this study. Here it is argued that the positioning and display of the corpse or its parts had a significant effect on the ways in which people interacted with Thomas both physically and devotionally. In a more general sense, I adopt similar approaches to these matters as Herbert Kessler in his important book, Seeing Medieval Art. Kessler stresses the importance of tangibility and materiality for constructing the spiritual experience.32 Taking an even broader view of medieval culture, I wholeheartedly agree with Caroline Walker Bynum, who argued that Christian materiality in the Late Middle Ages needed reappraisal, its importance having long been underestimated.33 My aim is to continue the discussion on the continuing importance of a saint’s material 28 Situations which frequently changed the position and perception of a saint in the eyes of contemporaries were natural catastrophes, wars or other large-scale disasters, Rigon, 1995, p. 65. On discoveries of relics and their praesentia more generally, Brown, 1983, pp. 92-93 and passim. 29 Paolo Golinelli reminds us that although the cults are phenomena of long durée, they should be analysed in their historical and social contexts, which are in continuous flux, see Golinelli, 2000, p. 247. The importance of topoi and their analysis within their own historical and cultural context has been recognized as a useful method of hagiographical study, at least from the 1980s. On interesting methodological approaches: Lauwers, 1988, p. 22; Roch, 2010. On ‘how to read hagiography’: recently Birkett, 2010, pp. 1-2, and especially Malo, 2013. 30 In art history this process has been inevitable: see for example Hahn, 1997; Kessler, 2004; Cornelison and Montgomery, 2005; Cornelison, 2012. 31 See a special issue of the periodical Sanctorum, 2 (2005), which is a collection of the papers given in the seminar named La tesaurizzazione delle reliquie in Rome in 2004; Canetti, 2002; Sbardella, 2007. The same interest in different disciplines can be seen more internationally in a collection of articles in Past and Present Supplements, 5 (2010) edited by Alexandra Walsham, and in the relic exhibition at the British Museum in 2011: the exhibition catalogue edited by Bagnoli et al., 2011. See also Cornelison, 2012; Montgomery, 2010. 32 Kessler, 2004. 33 Bynum, 2011.

Introduction 

17

presence in late medieval culture.34 This materiality existed not only in his or her corpse, the tomb, and other relics or pictures, but in other, more complex substitutes. The substituted elements may have been created allegorically, without any recognizable physical representation of the saint, in which case the place, situation, or recited words provided the interpretative material. In medieval culture, the desire and necessity to envisage the saint’s corporeality was so great that it was even possible to perceive it through visions. Materiality was always at the centre of devotional practice in one way or another. This study places a stronger emphasis on local diversity of relic cults than previous scholarship has done.35 Interaction always occurred in a certain place, locally, even if it took place in the imagination. I take the precise location of the relic cult as my starting point. Where was the corpse or relic: in a grave under a tombstone, in a shrine, in a reliquary, or concealed behind the altar? A wider context for the object of veneration might, for instance, be a shrine, altar, chapel, church, bedroom, home, castle, village, or town, or even an imagined place. As regards imagined relics, from liturgical sources reveal varying depictions of Thomas’s corpse or elements connected with it that do not correspond to anything in the so-called standardized liturgy known from the majority of manuscripts. Similarly, I have found texts which are connected to each other in a particular way inside a codex. I would argue that these peculiarities of style or interpretation are an expression of particular needs or particular viewpoints focused on Thomas’s body in the communities which used the books in question. An example par excellence is the Dominican community of Orvieto, which made a glorifying lectionary on Thomas, and especially on his corpse, at the turn of the fourteenth and fifteenth century.36 This manuscript and other texts can tell us about the local perception of the imagined corpse in places where there is no record of the real body or body parts ever having been present.37 The holy topography of Thomas’s relics was indeed varied, which quite naturally leads to the argument that this variety equally affected the perception. 34 Boesch Gajano, 2008; Lehmijoki-Gardner, 2005. 35 With this emphasis I am particularly inspired by Boesch Gajano, 2008. There exists an extensive literacy on local saints, civic saints, patron saints, and so forth, in villages, towns, monasteries, and other places during the Middle Ages, but these studies rarely discuss one cult in several places, seen from different angles at the same time. One exception is Laura Ackerman Smoller’s article, in which she has been able to define different characters of Vincent Ferrer’s image in Brittany, Toulouse, and Naples from his canonization processes before 1455: Ackerman Smoller, 2004. On civic cults: Golinelli, 1991 and 2000; Vauchez, 1995. 36 The case of Orvieto is discussed in Chapter IV, and more deeply in my article ‘The Memory of St. Thomas Aquinas’ (2016). 37 Especially BAV, Vat. lat. 10153.

18 

THOMAS AQUINAS’S RELICS AS FOCUS FOR CONFLIC T AND CULT IN THE L ATE MIDDLE AGES

In the ever-developing history of Thomas’s relics there were not one but several images of Thomas Aquinas—indeed, I argue that there were as many Saint Thomases as there were relics in the form of his body parts spread throughout Southern Italy. Every image had features in common with the others, but also unique characteristics. This study attests to the value of concentrating on a relatively small geographical area, in the Southern part of the Papal States and the northern part of the Kingdom of Naples, where culture—such as religion, government, economic life—was relatively homogenous. In a geographical context of this kind, where the interaction between Thomas’s corpse and devotees quickly created devotional networks and certainly affected the perception of Thomas’s remains in the neighbouring community, even slight diversities are revealing. This study, in showing that the remains of Thomas have strong local and time-related emphases in Southern Italy, will encourage a hagiographical approach which takes diversity into consideration as an aspect of a local cult rather than assuming that a given saint’s images were homogenous in accordance with guidance from above.

Readings of the corpse: textual, allegorical, and iconographic To find and explore Thomas’s relic cults in all their diversity requires recourse to a variety of sources. The sources tell of the encounters and clashes between different groups that aspired to possess Thomas relics, which in turn led to rival interpretations of his sainthood. A source outline for this study is formed on the records of Thomas’s canonization inquiries and lives of Thomas, composed mainly in the Dominican scriptoria, liturgical texts, descriptions of relic transportations, and histories of the Order of Preachers. Occasionally, various juridical documents, sermons, poems, material objects, and iconographical presentations shed light on the analysis.38 Architecture and the artistic settings that surrounded or contained the relics are also studied in order to understand more fully the possible ways to perceive Thomas’s relics that were open to his devotees in late medieval Italy. The canonization of 1323 aimed to standardize the cult, and it did indeed have a strong influence on Thomas’s image. The purpose of the process was initially to collect and conserve memories of Thomas—and especially memories regarding his saintly life and miracles—for the successful 38 An important collection of various documents concerning Thomas’s life and cult is Laurent, 1937. Douais has edited the principal texts concerning Thomas’s relics in 1903.

Introduction 

19

c­ anonization.39 In other words, memories and stories of Thomas considered suitable for the process, and ultimately for cultic texts, were selected. Although the purposes of the canonization inquiry may have been limited, this does not mean that careful reading of the testimonies cannot reveal the different attitudes and intentions of the protagonists—quite the contrary. In particular, the testimonies of the Cistercian monks reveal to us many different aspects of the competition over the possession of Thomas’s corpse. Later, in the Dominican lives, the Cistercian emphases were interpreted in a more negative light, an approach designed to give a positive slant to Dominican claims that Thomas’s corpse belonged with them. Furthermore, the differences in detail between all surviving texts make it clear that even within the Dominican Order, the corpse was perceived differently despite the intention to standardize Thomas’s image in the canonization. All in all, my reading of the sources is intended to define the memory of Thomas, establish who maintained that memory (or memories), and examine the ways in which the mechanics that affected the maintaining of the memory were understood and used. I will illustrate this through an introduction to my main sources. The canonization inquiries offer the most fruitful source material for exploring the ways in which the Cistercians of Fossanova or the laity who lived in the environs of the Monastery, perceived Thomas’s body until the end of 1321 when the second inquiry (Fossanova) was carried out. 40 The stories about Thomas’s last days, death, and post mortem miracles were formed inside the monastic and lay communities and kept alive orally. This shared memory of events around Thomas and his body can be perceived from the similar stories of the witnesses. Neverthelesss, the testimonies differ in detail despite their similar framework. 41 I suggest that even certain differences in the Cistercian testimonies are a mark of their communal

39 See processes Neapoli (1319) and Fossanova (1321). The great majority of the witnesses testifying in these two processes were monks, converses, or other dependents, and also neighbours of Fossanova (altogether 156 witnesses). 40 During recent decades, canonization processes have been frequently studied. Without doubt the most useful study concerning medieval sainthood is Andrè Vauchez’s classic in 1981–I have used the Italian version, La santità nel medioevo, 1989. After Vauchez’s pioneering study several other researchers have recognized the great potential of the canonization hearings as sources for the history of the medieval layman. To gain an idea of such a wide research field, see the anthology edited by Klaniczay, 2004. 41 Paolo Mariani has already studied the problem of discrepancies between the collective memory and various details in the depositions of the Cistercian monks of Fossanova: Mariani, 1996, pp, 280-291.

20 

THOMAS AQUINAS’S RELICS AS FOCUS FOR CONFLIC T AND CULT IN THE L ATE MIDDLE AGES

memory. 42 The  errors’ attest to a living tradition, and they exclude, to my mind, the possibility that the witnesses learned new miracle material by heart in preparation for participation in the hearings. 43 Behind the differences lay an as yet unstable memory of Thomas, influenced by different needs and traditions. I therefore suggest that there are elements in the depositions that tell us about the desires and disputes over Thomas’s body and which were a part of the inner politics or devotional life of the Monastery, or came from the outside world. The testimonies of the monks also show how certain individuals of the monastic community were in a better position to affect the memory than the rest. It is important to bear in mind the way in which the testimonies took shape. As regards the Cistercian monastic memory of Thomas revealed in the canonization inquiries, William of Tocco’s role must be noted. William of Tocco, a Dominican friar from Southern Italy, was appointed as a proctor of the process. 44 His position gave him the opportunity to influence the single depositions through his selection of the persons allowed to testify on the content of depositions.45 He could not, however, influence the Cistercians as easily as the lay or Dominican witnesses. I suggest that William’s power over the Cistercian witnesses was mainly in briefing them; he had probably heard the main corpus of stories beforehand and encouraged as well as advised the witnesses to give their testimonies. Later, in his own Ystoria, he was able to revise the Cistercian reports if he felt this was needed. The late medieval canonization process was a highly controlled procedure. There was little room for spontaneity. In Thomas’s case it is, however, important to note that the canonization committee did not use articuli interrogatorii prepared beforehand, a long list of questions typical for the medieval canonization inquiry. I consider this noteworthy, especially for the testimony of the Cistercian monks, who were free to choose the topics to speak about—although, obviously, always in connection with Thomas’s sanctity. Similarly, they could choose the arguments they wanted to 42 On the Cistercian communal memory, see Birkett, 2010, pp. 115-119; Newman, 1996, p. 10 and passim. For an interesting study of collective memory in more general terms, see Assmann, 1997. 43 The possibility that the witnesses learnt miracles by heart and thus created a so-called group social memory has also been considered by scholars, see Vauchez, 1989; Goodich, 2005a. 44 Official preparations for the canonization hearings began from the Provincial Chapter of the Dominican Order in Gaeta 1317. Scholars have regarded it as possible that William began this project decades earlier because of his own devotion or interest in Thomas’s sanctity: le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996; Torrell, 1996, 318. On the roles of the proctors in general: Toynbee, 1929, pp. 157-164; Finucane, 2011, p. 29. 45 Golinelli, 2004; Finucane, 2011, p. 29.

Introduction 

21

emphasize. Michael Goodich has pointed out some of the general problems that could ensue in depositions given without a prepared list of questions, arguing that it caused vagueness in the final report, which inquisitors tried to avoid. 46 However, it was not exceptional to give some freedom of manoeuvre for the witnesses: as Ronald C. Finucane remarks, sometimes they were allowed to follow their own logic in their depositions, without suffering the restriction of having to respond to the articuli interrogatorii.47 I argue that the lack of such a prepared list in Thomas’s case is beneficial in that it enables the researcher to ‘read between the lines’ in the testimonies of the Cistercian monks. The issues that I am most interested in are the claims related to the Cistercian rights to Thomas’s body. This matter, whether the Cistercians were the rightful guardians of Thomas’s body, was not openly discussed in the canonization process. The testimonies have gone through an elaborate process in the Papal Curia, which inevitably had its effects on the final product. 48 However, the memories collected, elaborated, and conserved on parchment from the hearings of Naples and Fossanova form the most complete source to Thomas’s relic cult at the Cistercian Abbey and in the surrounding area. 49 Besides the canonization hearings, there are only a few other sources on Thomas’s cult from the Cistercian viewpoint. The Monastery’s library 46 Goodich, 2005b, p. 143. 47 Finucane, 2011, pp. 28-29. 48 On normative aspects and examples comparative to Thomas’s case, see Vauchez, 1989; Goodich, 2005b; Mariani, 1996; Golinelli, 2004; Klaniczay, 2004; Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009. The normal procedure consisted of several rewritings after the first time depositions were written down. They were, for example, translated, selected, rearranged, and summarized by the inquisitors and their assistants and notaries. In the Papal Curia, these same documents were normally studied and summarized again. The surviving canonization material usually represents the last stage of this process. For a short and clear exposition of the typical fourteenth-century process, see Toynbee, 1929, pp. 146-169; Finucane, 2011, pp. 13-32. 49 There are a few signs of the processing of Thomas’s canonization material, perhaps in the Curia. J. Rius Serra has published an article in which he gives an edition of the hearings of Fossanova that differs from the Laurent edition I have referred to above. According to the edition of Rius Serra, the report of the hearings contained numerous additions in the margins, concerning, for example, doubts of a writer about miracles. In the manuscript of Paris, which has been the text for Laurent’s edition, there are no additions of this kind. It is possible that the version from the Vatican Archives was a preliminary version of the product, which would therefore provide evidence of the processing of the testimonies. This remains speculation, however, as no document with the information Rius Serra gives is now to be found in the Vatican Archives. Surviving medieval manuscript versions: BnF, Ms. latin 3112 (Neapoli); Ms. latin 3113 (Fossanova); ASV, Cam. Ap., Collectorie 434B (a fragment from Neapoli). See also Rius Serra, 1936, pp. 509-529, 576-631; Laurent, 1936, pp. 632-639. On perception of miracles through scholastic theology and Canon law, Goodich, 2004.

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THOMAS AQUINAS’S RELICS AS FOCUS FOR CONFLIC T AND CULT IN THE L ATE MIDDLE AGES

and archives are almost completely lost.50 Luckily, the surviving sources do give a view of the Cistercian world after the canonization, and give a fragmentary insight into the continuity of Thomas’s cult at Fossanova. These sources are a document dictated by Petrus de Tardo, a French Cistercian monk, after his visit to Fossanova in 1354, a martyrology identified as originating from Fossanova but nowadays in the Vatican Library, and two medieval frescoes still on the walls of the Monastery.51 In addition to these sources, I have managed to track down some Cistercian liturgical manuscripts which give evidence of Thomas’s cult in the Order in Italy beyond Fossanova.52 Finally, the most imposing Cistercian source is the Monastery of Fossanova itself. The Abbey stands on its original site, with its largely intact gothic style abbey church, the main venue where the interaction between the Saint and his devotees occurred. The architectural settings are possible to reconstruct to some extent from the written sources and archaeological excavations.53 The place, its ambience and the form of Thomas’s tomb affected the perception of the saint’s relics by the inhabitants and visitors to Fossanova. The canonization hearings include a significant amount of evidence about lay devotion of Thomas’s relics. The people of the villages surrounding Fossanova did not testify in Naples in 1319, which was probably the reason for the second round of hearings at Fossanova in 1321.54 The records conserve testimonies of the lay witnesses which often give accurate depictions of the following matters: when the devotees requested that Thomas come to their aid, where this happened, and how they approached Thomas’s tomb in the Monastery. In addition to the testimonies written down according to the oral depositions, there are very few other sources that can tell us about lay veneration or handling of Thomas’s relics in Southern Italy. Interestingly, a Dominican text, Historia translationis corporis Thome de Aquino, seems to conserve the acts and interests of Honoratus Caetani, the Count of Fondi, involving Thomas in the mid-fourteenth century. Luckily, there are several other sources prepared in the Cistercian as well as lay and other religious 50 Viti, 1981, pp. 159-160. Recently, Trasselli, 2011. On problems of the provenience presented in the catalogue of the library of Sir Thomas Phillipps in regard to the manuscripts ex-Fossanova: Mews & Welch, 2012. 51 Jacquin, 1923; BAV, Ottob. lat. 176. 52 For example BAV, Vat. lat. 6244, 6378; BAV, Barb. lat. 625; BAV, Chigi C.VI.179; BAV, Ottob. lat. 575. 53 De Rossi, 2013. 54 Enthusiastic and suff iciently widespread lay devotion was regarded as necessary for a successful conclusion of a canonization project in the Late Middle Ages: Vauchez, 1989, p. 45.

Introduction 

23

contexts which also comment on the activities of the Count.55 There is a fresco cycle painted in a family chapel of Aquino in Loreto Aprutino that provides an interesting source for lay perception. The cycle is based on the lives of Thomas written by Dominican friars, but as far as I can see the mural paintings differ from the texts in their emphases.56 Interpreted with care, these frescoes can divulge the Aquino family viewpoint of the history of Thomas’s corpse, or at least aspects of it. The material produced by the Dominican Order forms the majority of the sources of this study. In the Dominican hagiography, Thomas’s corpse became a multi-layered and instrumental reconstruction, fundamentally based on the stories of Christ’s life and death, as was customary in the hagiographical genre in general.57 The first lives were written by William of Tocco—who wrote the Ystoria santi Thome de Aquino during the canonization process—and Bernard Gui, who finished his Legenda only shortly after William. Both men also created a miracle collection. The Dominicans did not merely express their own requirements and actions related to Thomas and his corpse, but depicted those of the Cistercians and laypeople as well. Cistercian interaction with Thomas’s body is often depicted from a negative angle, in such a way as to challenge the monks’ methods of taking care of—or failing to take care of—or venerate it. At the same time, when the Dominicans interpreted the Cistercians as ‘others’, unsuitable to be the custodians of such a valuable body, they emphasized their own ability and identity as the true heirs to the corpse.58 From the viewpoint of this study, it is important to see how some narrative elements in Thomas’s lives remained the same for centuries, while other were constantly reformulated.59 One of the changing elements is the reasoning behind the Dominican claim for the possession of Thomas’s relics. When the Dominican desire to possess Thomas’s corpse grew during the decades after his death, these desires had a significant effect on the meanings of Thomas’s relics. I argue that certain adjustments made between Thomas’s first lives, 55 These are editions of the fourteenth-century documents by Jacquin, 1923, Regesta chartarum, and Douais, 1903. 56 Art historians have taken some interest in the paintings; for the most recent discussion, see Baschet and Bonne, 1998. See also Dell’Orso, 1988; d’Isola, 1958; Marighetto, 2001. 57 For a wide survey of the hagiographic literature of the thirteenth century, see Goodich, 1982. 58 On the construction of identity through the ‘other’: Assmann, 1997, p. 2. On the utility of the Dominican hagiography for creation and recreation of the Order’s identity: Dubreil-Arcin, 2011; Canetti, 1996. 59 The f irst narrative sources are from the period before Thomas’s death. They are texts which depict Thomas without the direct pressure of the proceeding canonization process: Vitae fratrum, Annales, and Bonum universale de apibus.

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THOMAS AQUINAS’S RELICS AS FOCUS FOR CONFLIC T AND CULT IN THE L ATE MIDDLE AGES

such as the Ystoria of William of Tocco, the Legenda of Bernard Gui, and the chapters in the Historia ecclesiastica nova of Ptolemy of Lucca, were caused by the quarrels over the possession of Thomas’s corpse. Moreover, I suggest that while Thomas’s image was in the process of harmonization and becoming universal and timeless, there remained fragments of local memories and time-related themes in the sources.60 Besides the lives, the Historia translationis text genre—born at the turn of the 1360s and 1370s—brings the same challenge of close reading: the new text group was well constructed on the basis of the older and disappearing tradition that flowered in Southern Italy. With careful and comparative reading of the sources these ancient fragments and locally based elements can be found in the texts meant for universal use. A very good example of the above-mentioned sources, from the local as well as time-related viewpoint, is the liturgical material and differences between the texts of liturgical manuscripts. After Thomas’s canonization in 1323, there was a growing desire for a liturgy proper for his feast day. The liturgy was composed within the Dominican Order and most probably approved in the second half of the 1320s. As was customary, according to the Dominican legislation, the approved liturgy was then copied to be diffused throughout the whole Order. In theory, the requirements for the standardized liturgy, texts, and hymns would mean that the manuscripts retained an entirely congruent Thomas’s feast day liturgy. In practice, however, there are many differences between the texts; from synonymous words to different general views and contexts of the texts in which the narratives on Thomas are connected. To identify the standard phrasings and the whole set of the texts for Thomas’s liturgical feast, as well as their variations, I have studied dozens of the Dominican liturgical manuscripts from Italy, and a smaller quantity from abroad.61 They are mainly from the fourteenth century, but some texts from the fifteenth century are included in the research material as it is hoped that the additional use of these will offer a more complete picture of the time-related changes in the texts. As one result of the manuscript studies I have completed, I have attached my transcription of medieval lections for Thomas’s feast day, not available as an edition, in an Appendix. I have traced the liturgical manuscript material from the places where Thomas’s cult is likely to have been important on the basis 60 On the shaping of an official image of a holy man or woman by the papal canonization process, see Ackerman Smoller, 2004. Hagiography was one of the most eff icient tools for standardizing the memory tradition of a saint. In the process of standardization, the hagiography normally offered the basic texts for the liturgy. See Dubreil-Arcin, 2011, pp. 13-30 and passim. 61 Among the largest collections are the Dominican manuscripts from both the male and female convents of Colmar, nowadays in the municipal library of Colmar, and the female convent Saint Catherine of Nuremberg, now in the Stadtbibliothek of Nuremberg.

Introduction 

25

that a Thomas relic or relics were conserved there. I have also chosen some samples from the places that had no material connection to Thomas in cases when I believe they can throw more light on the possible relation between the physical remains and the success of Thomas’s cult. The suspension of the monasteries and convents during the Napoleonic period forms a practical challenge for the study of the liturgical sources. The suspension caused the mass transportation of monastic literature, including the Dominican manuscripts, to the national libraries of Italy where they still are today, mostly poorly catalogued, if catalogued at all, as in Naples.62 Luckily, the situation with the collections of the Vatican Library is far better as regards the information on its holdings. For this reason, the majority of the manuscripts I have used to form an overall picture on the liturgical material for Thomas’s feast day now belong to the different collections of the Vatican Library, although their original provenance covers the Italian peninsula and beyond—for instance, manuscripts from the regions that are now Switzerland and Sicily were included in the source corpus. It is my contention that the liturgical manuscripts selected for this study express contemporary concerns fairly well, including the changing attitudes to the possession of Thomas’s corpse within the Dominican Order.63

A note on the spelling of names It should be noted that I have changed the Latin/Italian/French names into their English forms only if they are well-known characters whose names are normally written in the English way in English language works. In general, I have kept the name spellings that appear in my sources. There are some exceptions, such as Thomas Aquinas’s sister Teodora: she appears in the sources composed mainly in Latin, and consequently her name is in the Latin but I have used the Italianized form to distinguish her from their mother, Theodora. The same applies to Teodora’s son Tommaso: by using the Italian name I distinguish between uncle (Thomas) and nephew (Tommaso), and avoid continuous repetition of the family name. Throughout my text, the transliterations of the manuscript sources and the translations from Latin or old Italian into English are mine unless otherwise mentioned. 62 On the misfortunes and conservation of the archives of the mendicant Orders of Naples, including the Dominicans, see Di Meglio, 2013. 63 For a similar approach regarding the topicality of the liturgy, see Heffernan, 2005. Agnès Dubreil-Arcin (2011, pp. 28-29) emphasizes the connection between hagiography and liturgy and the utility of studying them together, which is also one of my aims in Chapter IV.

Illustration 1 Thomas’s Land map

Copyright: Juhana Heikonen

1

The Death of Thomas, 7 March 1274

Thomas Aquinas began his last journey from Naples with the intention of arriving in Lyons for the Church Council to which he had been invited by Pope Gregory X as a special expert on the Greeks. He had left the Dominican Convent of Naples, San Domenico Maggiore, presumably at the end of January or beginning of February in 1274. Some days later he arrived in Maenza, where he fell ill. He was moved to Fossanova, a Cistercian Monastery nearby, to rest and hopefully recover (see the map). However, there death took him in the early morning of 7 March.1 This chapter focuses on the scene of Thomas Aquinas’s death. Earlier hagiographical studies have noted that the description of the moment of death was one of the most important passages in a life of a medieval saint.2 According to Pierre-André Sigal, it was not just a theological idea, but a widely held belief that the last days and hours, and the last breath in particular, were especially revealing in the process of distinguishing a saint from an ordinary man.3 Formalized signs often proved that the person’s life would continue in heaven. In the light of these ideas, I shall examine how Thomas’s contemporaries, later hagiographers, and others perceived Thomas’s passage to a heavenly life. Different parties developed an interest in Thomas’s post mortem memory soon after his death. The most important were the Cistercian community of Fossanova, the Dominican Order, and Thomas’s family. By turns, they repeatedly constructed, revaluated, and reconstructed the perception of the scene of Thomas’s death in line with the opportunities it presented to them and the reality of their situation vis-à-vis Thomas’s relics.4 The whole message of the Christian faith and resurrection was compounded in the written or pictorial images of Thomas’s death.5 My particular interest focuses on the question of whether the interpretations of Thomas’s death influenced the perception of his corpse or relics. It seems that Thomas’s last days became crucial for the century-long dispute over the 1 Torrell, 1996, pp. 289-295. 2 Delarun, 1991; Goodich, 2005b, p. 227; Kleinberg, 1992, p. 141; Lawers, 1988; Sigal, 1998, p. 17; Vauchez, 1989. A classic study about the scene of death in general is Aries, 1977, pp. 20-21. 3 Sigal, 1998, p. 17. 4 On the rewriting of the Dominican hagiography: Dubreil-Arcin, 2011, pp. 73-82, and passim; Canetti, 1996. On the understanding of topoi as time and space related matters in general: Roch, 2010; Lauwers, 1988, p. 22. 5 On Dominican iconography of saints: Russo, 2012; Gerbron, 2010; Baschet and Bonne, 1998. On the saints’ lives as Christ’s life in general, see Bynum, 2011 and 1995.

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possession of his corpse. The first key to an understanding of the importance of Thomas’s body is in the words which he allegedly pronounced when he arrived at the Monastery of Fossanova. Below, we will see the importance of the presence of both the material and the immaterial corpse in the construction of memories and different images of the saint.

The memory of Thomas’s arrival at the Monastery of Fossanova At the end of the thirteenth century, Fossanova represented a mere shadow of its earlier splendour. Once it had been a powerful Cistercian Monastery in Southern Italy, perhaps even the most important in Italy. The history of the local religious community is largely obscure because of the lack of documentary material.6 Scholars have seen the twelfth century as a turbulent period when the popes endeavoured to secure a more stable control over the area between the papal and royal dominions, and when local nobles and free communes constantly squabbled and fought over the possession of lands and the control of the routes of communication, the roads and the river Amaseno. By donating land for a Monastery of the Cistercian Order, presumably in 1138, Pope Innocent II intended to gain control of the area.7 In the first half of the twelfth century Fossanova received numerous additional papal and imperial donations (land, buildings, etc.). That century was the Monastery’s golden period, which culminated in the rebuilding of the abbey church and the consecration of its high altar on 18 June 1208.8 In its architecture, the Church—grandiose and austere at the same time—reflects the harmony and simplicity of the Cistercian spiritual life.9 When Thomas arrived there it was still important among the houses of the Cistercian Order in Italy.10 However, it has been suggested that the whole Order became decadent around the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a decadence which became a reality also in Fossanova.11 Reasons 6 For a meticulous study on the history of Fossanova based on wide research of archival material, see Pagliaroli, 2011a and 2011b. 7 Ployer Mione, 1999, p. 87 and passim; Pagliaroli, 2011a, pp. 97-98. 8 Pagliaroli, 2011a, pp. 137-140; Parziale, 2007, pp. 37-56, 76, and passim; Ciarrocchi, 2005, pp. 153-180; de Sanctis, 1990, p. 436. 9 Lekai, 1977, pp. 264-265, 273; Walz, 1961b, p. 112. 10 Parziale, 2007, pp. 34-35. Often, in the earlier scholarship, the golden age of Fossanova has been set exactly in the days when Thomas lay ill there: Bianchini, 1974, p. 25; Fedele, 1924, p. 187. 11 Jacquin, 1923, pp. 289-295; Parziale, 2007, pp. 34-37. For an interesting overview of the history and architecture of Fossanova, see De Rossi, 2002.

The Death of Thomas, 7 March 1274 

29

for the decadence were manifold. One of the most probable reasons was the new spirituality disseminated by the Mendicant Orders, such as the Dominicans (Preachers) and Franciscans (Minors), which rapidly found supporters throughout Europe.12 In this battle over spiritual leadership and survival, the death of a famous Dominican friar at the Cistercian house created considerable tension that contributed to the differing interpretations regarding Thomas’s memory. The f inal leg of Thomas’s earthly journey began from the Castle of ­Maenza, in present day Lazio, approximately ten kilometres from ­Fossanova. A group of Cistercian monks and novices went to see Thomas at the Castle. After a short visit, Thomas accompanied the Cistercians to the Monastery of Fossanova.13 At the time of Thomas’s canonization hearings in Naples in 1319, five of those who had received Thomas at the Monastery in 1274 were still alive and able to testify. These men were Nicolaus, the Abbot at the time of the hearings, and the monks Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis, Nicolaus de Fresolino, and Octavianus de Babuco, as well as a converse, Nicolaus de Piperno. It seems that there had been a very special atmosphere in the Cistercian Monastery when they waited for their famous guest to arrive: for example, Nicolaus states that he had heard it said that Thomas was invited to the Council of Lyons because he was considered one of the most intelligent men in the world.14 The scene of Thomas’s death provides an opportunity to begin the survey by reading the testimonies of these five eye-witnesses. They form the basis of my interpretation regarding the Cistercian tradition of Thomas’s death before his canonization. At the time of the canonization, the tradition placed a huge emphasis on the possession of Thomas’s corpse by the Cistercian monks. The position of Fossanova as the depository of Thomas’s remains was challenged by the Dominican Order, whose views in this chapter are interpreted mainly through the Ystoria of William of Tocco. The first round of Thomas’s canonization hearings took place at the Archbishop’s Palace in Naples on 21 July to 18 September 1319. It took two days to organize the place for the hearings and to prepare assistants as well as the array of witnesses who arrived to testify. The total number of questioned witnesses was forty-two. Among them were sixteen Cistercians 12 Lekai, 1977, pp. 78-79, 93. Regarding Fossanova: Serafini, 1924, p. 256. 13 Neapoli XLIX. In the Cistercian group were Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis, Prior Iacopo de Florentino (according to the editor, more probably from Ferentino), Iohannes de Pede Montis and Fidele. 14 Neapoli XIX.

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and eleven Dominicans, while the rest were clerics or Neapolitan noblemen. Four of the above-mentioned eye-witnesses of Fossanova, Abbot Nicolaus, Nicolaus de Fresolino, Octavianus de Babuco, and Nicolaus de Piperno, arrived at the opening of the process in Naples. The monk Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis must have arrived somewhat later, as he testified on 1 August, a week after the first Cistercian witness.15 On 23 July, the commissars as well as the scribes were ready to call the first witness to the examination room. According to the surviving documentation, he was Petrus Grassus, a Neapolitan nobleman and the official of King Robert of Naples. Apparently he was close to the King (miles regis, commissarius et familiaris) and his authority gained him a place in the opening stage of the inquiry.16 Next came the Cistercian eye-witnesses: first Abbot Nicolaus, followed by Nicolaus de Fresolino on 24 July, Octavianus de Babuco on 25 July, and Nicolaus de Piperno on 26 July. As the first witnesses of the process, they had a great opportunity to offer the Cistercian interpretation of Thomas to the inquisitors and guide the inquiry in the direction they desired. The first of the Cistercian witnesses, Abbot Nicolaus, took an oath to tell the truth regarding Thomas’s life in front of the papal commissars.17 Then he gave his testimony about what he had seen and heard in the winter of 1274. According to the Abbot, Thomas was travelling to Lyons when he stopped at his niece’s castle and fell ill. When the illness took a turn for the worse, Thomas said in the presence of many witnesses: ‘If the Lord is coming for me, I had better be found in a religious house than in a secular place’.18 In other words, Thomas had himself carried to Fossanova. The Abbot continues with the words that Thomas pronounced when he was entering the Abbey: ‘This is my rest for ever and ever; here I will dwell, for I have chosen it’.19 According to the canonization records, the Abbot finished the first part of 15 Of the sixteen Cistercians, Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis and Petrus de Piperno are the only ones who testified separately: see Neapoli XLIX-LIV, LVI-LVII. This is surprising for several reasons. Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis was certainly one of the most important witnesses in Naples, as he had known Thomas well in his lifetime. Another important witness was Bartholomaeus de Capua, who testified even later, on 8 August, see Neapoli LXXVI-LXXXVI. On the organization of canonization hearings in general, see Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 23-70. 16 Neapoli VI-VII. We may doubt that he was actually the first witness. His testimony is the only one which is recorded in the collection of the testimonies that has no exact date. According to Katajala-Peltomaa, changing the order of given depositions for the final collection of testimonies was possible for better evaluation of the process: Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 56-62. 17 Neapoli VIII. 18 Neapoli VIII: ‘Si Dominus voluerit me visitare, melius est quod reperiar in domo religiosorum quam in domibus secularium’. 19 Ps. 131:14 ‘Hec requies mea in seculum seculi, hic habitabo quoniam elegi eam’.

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his testimony with a description of the diligent care given to Thomas: the monks served Thomas with great devotion, among other things bringing firewood to his room. Thomas, as the Abbot puts it, was amazed: ‘Who am I that holy men should bring me my firewood?’ The Abbot states that the monks did what they did because they were inspired by the reputation of Thomas’s holiness.20 The implication of Abbot Nicolaus’s statement was that Thomas foresaw his death at the Castle of Maenza.21 Because of the prophesy, Thomas expressed his wish to be moved from the Castle—the secular place—to the Monastery—the religious house. The Abbot continues the story, narrating it in Thomas’s words: ‘This is my rest for ever and ever; here I will dwell, for I have chosen it’. Nicolaus seems to claim that Thomas’s initial idea, to seek a religious house, was transformed into perfect confidence that he had found the right place when he arrived in Fossanova. The phrase ‘This is my rest for ever and ever’ is the most precisely repeated sentence by all Cistercian eye-witnesses among the testimonies on Thomas’s arrival at the Monastery, his stay there, or his post mortem miracles at the Monastery.22 The sentence appears to have been a part of the living oral tradition of the Monastery, which indicates that it was important for the monks. For the Abbot it was especially important to be clear about Thomas’s own wishes at the canonization hearing; first Thomas asked to be moved from the Castle of Maenza to the Monastery, then, even more importantly, he expressed his wish to stay at Fossanova for eternity.23 The purpose of the sentences was to cement Thomas’s corporeal presence at Fossanova.24 The memory of the sentences which Thomas allegedly pronounced had a long life, both before and after the canonization. The early tradition can be sensed from the testimony of Bartholomeaus de Capua, the Chancellor (logoteca) and Protonotary of the Kingdom of Naples.25 Together with Abbot Nicolaus, he was another witness at the Archbishop’s Palace who testified to 20 Neapoli VIII. 21 Saints often predicted not only their own death but also the deaths of others from their own community or nearby. Lutgard of Aywièrs, a Cistercian saint, first predicted her death five years in advance: see Thomas of Cantimpré, Life of Lutgard of Aywières III, p. 6. 22 Neapoli IX, XI, XVI, XXI, and LIII. 23 Räsänen, 2013. 24 On the Cistercian activity to promote a saint as their own both visually and textually, see Greens, 2005. 25 Two of the highest off ices of the Kingdom. Bartholomaeus de Capua held both off ices from 1296 till his death in 1328: Walter and Piaccialuti, 1964. According to Samatha Kelly, the protonotary-logothete presided the chancery, treasury, and tribunal. Kelly defines Bartholomaeus as the King’s alter ego: Kelly, 2003, p. 61.

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Thomas’s words at Maenza: ‘[Thomas] asked with great devotion to be carried to the Monastery of Saint Mary of Fossanova’.26 Similarly, Bartholomaeus repeats the sentence ‘This is my rest for ever and ever […]’. Bartholomaeus, although from outside the Cistercian circle, recalled accidents and words which he had probably heard when he visited Fossanova. According to him, Thomas’s words were commonly known in the Monastery as well as in the surrounding area. He knew them because he had been a frequent visitor at the Abbey when he travelled to Rome on the King’s business at the end of the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth centuries. Despite his frequent communication with the Cistercian Monastery, culturally Bartholomaeus was probably more closely connected to Naples and the Dominicans than to Fossanova. He was Thomas’s fervent devotee religiously and intellectually, as well as a supporter of his canonization process in Naples.27 It is fairly certain that he was involved in the petition for Thomas’s canonization together with the Dominicans and the royal house of Naples. Given Bartholomaeus’s background, it is remarkable that he supported Abbot Nicolaus’s testimony so strongly: I cannot see why Bartholomaeus would have reinforced the Cistercian tradition on Thomas’s arrival at Fossanova if the tradition had not had longevity and become entrenched as Thomas’s ‘history’. Interestingly, a Dominican interpretation of Thomas’s arrival at the Monastery also appeared not long after his death. Ptolemy of Lucca, a Dominican writer, described Thomas’s transfer to Fossanova in his Annales at the beginning of the fourteenth century.28 In the first version of the text from 1303-1305, Ptolemy emphasizes the role of Francesca, Thomas’s niece, in her uncle’s decision to be moved to Fossanova: in this version it was Francesca, not Thomas himself, who decided that the religious house was a better place for Thomas than the Castle.29 However, in the next version from the years 1305/6-1308, Ptolemy changed this passage. He now claimed that it was Thomas who decided to move to Fossanova, the patrons of which were his relatives.30 In other words, in the second version, Ptolemy omitted 26 Neapoli LXXX: ‘petiit cum multa devotione quod portaretur ad monasterium sancte Marie de Fossa-Nova’. 27 Neapoli LXXX. Bartholomaeus, a young man from a Capuan noble family, studied law at the University of Naples, and showed a very strong interest in theological discussions. For example, his opinions on the good government of a king are rooted in Thomism. Besides the work links, he was closely related to the royal family and several Neapolitan Dominicans: Boyer, 1995; Vitale, 1996; Walter and Piaccialuti, 1964. 28 For some basic information on Ptolemy: Hinnebusch, 1973, pp. 416-420. 29 Annales (recensio A), Anno Domini MCCLXXIIII. 30 Annales (recensio B), Anno Domini MCCLXXIIII.

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Francesca’s direct role as the one who ordered that Thomas be transferred to the Abbey. In Historia ecclesiastica nova in 1316,31 Ptolemy again returned to the matter, continuing the line he had chosen in the second version of Annales, but adding an explanatory sentence: Because there was no Dominican convent near the place [where he fell ill], he changed his route and went to an esteemed Monastery which was called Fossanova and in which was housed a Cistercian congregation. The patrons were the lords of da Ceccano, his relatives.32

In this text, Ptolemy claims that Thomas came to Fossanova only because there was no Dominican house nearby. Accordingly, Fossanova was not strictly Thomas’s choice as his place of death, but a result of necessity in circumstances that allowed no alternative. William of Tocco followed the Historia ecclesiastica nova closely when he wrote the first version of his Ystoria de sancti Thome, explaining that Thomas headed for Fossanova because the monks asked him to and because there was no Dominican house in the neighbourhood. In a later version, William changes the passage, omitting the explanatory sentence about the necessity of circumstances.33 Thus, the message of the final versions is that Thomas was on his way from Maenza to Rome, and decided to visit the Monastery of Fossanova only because he was invited there by the monks. As we can see, the message of the Dominican tradition regarding the choice of Thomas’s death place underwent a drastic reformulation. It included the same events, but these did not result from Thomas’s conscious choice, being instead a succession of unforeseen events. When Thomas entered the cloister, William claims that he suddenly became inspired by God and this led him to utter the words: There [at the cloister] God’s hand came upon him, and touched by a prophetical spirit he turned to his socius (who also knew that other similar revelations had appeared to Thomas) and said to numerous monks and 31 Here I follow the dating of Schmugge, 1997; others give different dates. 32 Historia eccl. XXIII, VIII: ‘Et quia prope locum nullum ordo Praedicatorum conventum habebat, declinavit ad unam solemnem abbatiam, quae dicitur Fossa-Nova et quae ordinis erat Cisterciensis, in qua sui consanguinei domini de Ceccano erant patroni’. 33 Ystoria LVII: ‘prosequi uersus Romam, iuxta monasterium Fosse noue transiens, inuitatus ab abbate et monachis, uolens ibi aliquibus diebus uires resumere, [eo quod nullus conuentus fratrum predicatorum esset ibi propinquus, predictum monasterium est ingressus]’. The omitted verse is provided inside the brackets.

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friars from his own Order who were listening, ‘My son Raynaldus, this is my rest forever, here I will dwell, for I have chosen it’.34

The moment, according to William, was revealing: immediately Thomas entered the Monastery, he understood that he had come to the end of his life on earth. With the words ‘This is my rest for ever, here I will dwell’, he prophesied his death. William argues that Thomas did not mean the words to be taken literally: he did not want to be buried at the Monastery for ever. In William’s interpretation ‘forever’ referred to Thomas’s sudden realization that Fossanova would be the end of his journey on earth. According to the Dominicans, Thomas simply announced his forthcoming death. Bernard Gui even goes so far as to claim that Thomas asked to be moved from the Monastery to Naples. I discuss the Dominican textual tradition from the viewpoint of the correct resting place in more depth in the last chapter of this book. The selection of the place of death has long textual roots. For example, the quotation which Thomas is said to have used comes from the Bible and refers to Sion as the chosen dwelling place of God.35 Interestingly, Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153) comments on the verse in his Sermons on the Song of Songs, in which he draws a picture of crucified Jesus who found an echo of the words of the Psalms from his heart.36 In a study of Bernard’s parables of sacred topography, Mette Birkedal Bruun refers to a letter sent by Bernard to Bishop Alexander of Lincoln. In the letter, Bernard again uses the same verse when he depicts Philip, a canon who was on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem but instead decided to remain in Clairvaux: ‘Here, so Philip promises himself, will be his rest for ever and ever’.37 Bruun interprets the letter as emphasizing Bernard’s view on the virtue of stabilitas and Clairvaux as inherent Jerusalem, or better, the Heavenly Jerusalem, the eternal dwelling place: thus, having reached Clairvaux, there was no need to continue to the terrestrial Jerusalem.38 Following Bruun’s profound analysis 34 Ystoria LVII: ‘ubi facta est super eum manus Domini, et tactus spiritu prophetie dixit pluribus audientibus monachis et sui ordinis fratribus, et precipue socio suo cui consueuerat similia reuelare: Fili Raynalde, hec requies mea in seculum seculi, hic habitabo quoniam elegi eam’. 35 Ps. 131:14. 36 Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermons on the Song of Songs 27, p. 9. 37 Bruun, 2007, pp. 103-104. 38 Bruun, 2007, pp. 95, 103-106. On the Heavenly Jerusalem, Leclercq, 1982, pp. 54-57. On stabilitas as a monk’s ideal way of life, see Benedict of Nursia, Regula monachorum I. On ideal stability, as well as exercising stability and mobility in practice in the monastic culture, see also Kaartinen, 2002, pp. 121-125.

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I suggest that like Philip’s arrival at Clairvaux, Thomas’s arrival in Fossanova was interpreted in the Bernardine spirit. The Cistercians of Fossanova, emphasizing Thomas’s alleged words, seem to have connected Thomas more closely to their way of life, stabilitas, which in turn cemented their claim that Thomas belonged to the Monastery, the symbol of Heavenly Jerusalem. The sentence also places Thomas in the long list of God’s elect. Similar words had been attributed to saints and saint candidates as instructions that they should be buried in certain places or moved from one place to another for centuries.39 Here, I compare Thomas’s case to Saint Dominic’s, and read it as a part of the Dominican hagiography: Brother Ventura of Verona gave a testimony that when he was seriously ill, the father of the Order had asked that he should first be carried to the Benedictine Monastery of Santa Maria del Monte near Bologna, because the place was said to be healthier. There, the Prior of the Monastery said: ‘I shall bury him in this church, and I will not allow him to be taken away’. Dominic heard this and said to his brethren: ‘Quick, take me away from here. God forbid that I should be buried anywhere except under the feet of my brethren’. According to Ventura, the friars obeyed and carried Dominic to San Nicola, the Order’s Church in Bologna, where he died. 40 From the testimonies to Dominic’s canonization, it is clear that the Dominicans interpreted Dominic’s words ad litteram. They even buried Dominic in the choir of the friars, where he lay under the feet of the brethren who gathered for the daily services there. 41 The Dominican interpretation of Thomas’s words was quite the contrary: rather than interpreting them literally, as instructions for the burial place, William gave them a metaphorical meaning. The reason for the different interpretations in these two cases is evident: the Dominican friars had Dominic’s body when he died, but not Thomas’. Dominic’s words and possession of his body were used by the friars to emphasize strongly the unity between themselves and the founding father. By contrast, they made Thomas’s words a symbol of the continuity of Christian sainthood from the 39 See, for example, the testimonies regarding Thomas of Cantilupe, who, according to the canonization reports, prayed and said at the moment of his death: ‘In manus tuas commendo spiritum meum’, see Compendium vitae II, p. 35. See also Delarun, 1991, pp. 198-199; Sigal, 1998, pp. 20, 26-27. 40 Relatio Juridica 8. According to Rudolph of Faenza, one of the friars asked Dominic: ‘Father, where do you want your body to be buried?’ And Dominic answered: ‘Under the feet of my brethren’, Relatio Juridica 33. The translations of the quotations are from Tugwell, 1982, pp. 68, 78. 41 On Dominic’s death and burial places, Vicaire, 1964, pp. 380-386. On Saint Dominic’s testament, see especially Creytens, 1973.

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days of the founding fathers to their own day, at the same time emphasizing that they had nothing to do with the burial place. The Cistercians, on the other hand, who had Thomas’s corpse in their Monastery, interpret Thomas’s words as his testament, to mean that he willed his body to the congregation of the monks of Fossanova. This literal interpretation of Thomas’s words was obviously to their advantage and they used the tradition they had formulated actively. Interesting evidence regarding the Cistercian interpretation can be found from a document dictated by Petrus de Tardo, a French Cistercian monk, after his visit to Fossanova in 1359. 42 It reinforces the idea that the words were a testament and a powerful weapon for the Cistercians to claim Thomas’s body. The document refers to the short period in the mid-1350s, when the corpse was in the possession of the Count of Fondi, Honoratus. 43 During that period, the Count had suffered severe misfortune. A certain Cistercian monk—perhaps not from Fossanova—explained to the Count that all his disadvantages had resulted from his transfer of Thomas’s body from Fossanova—the place it belonged—to his castle. According to the document, the monk repeated the very words of Thomas, ‘This is my rest for ever and ever’, as proof of Thomas’s desire to remain at Fossanova. The monk accused the Count of keeping Thomas in his house against the Saint’s will. 44 The theme of the possession of the corpse recurs later in the same document. It recalls the liturgical life of the Cistercian Monastery of Santo Spirito di Zannone. 45 The monks of the Monastery were considering the possibility that Thomas may not have wanted to be with the Cistercians, since he had allowed his remains to be transferred to Fondi. 46As a result, the monks decided to omit Thomas’s memory from the daily liturgy. Saint Thomas himself appeared before the Abbot on the next night, before the matins, and asked him to restore his memory because ‘soon I will be returned to

42 The document has been compiled from a dictation of Petrus de Tardo, a Cistercian monk who had been appointed as a visitator by Cîteaux to its affiliates in Southern Italy. The document was written in Langres, France, in 1359, a year after the Fossanova visit: Jacquin, 1923; Parziale, 2007, p. 37. 43 The document and the history of Thomas’s relics in Fondi are presented in more detail in Chapter III. 44 Jacquin, 1923, p. 292. 45 In the document, the name of the Monastery is Sancti Spiritus de Senona. On the ancient variants of the name, see Viola, 2003, p. 67, note 4. 46 Narratives in which the saints approved transfers of their remains, either by passivity or by helping in various ways, were common in the Middle Ages: Geary, 1990, pp. 118-124 and passim. Especially on messages given in dreams: Canetti, 2001; Keskiaho, 2015, pp. 24-35.

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you to the former place’. 47 The history of the Monastery and its relationship to Fossanova is not unequivocal. Possibly Santo Spirito di Zannone was Fossanova’s daughter house. 48 From the document it becomes clear, however, that it was not just Fossanova that regarded Thomas as their own saint in the mid-fourteenth century, but the wider Cistercian community. The Cistercians of Fossanova clearly made highly effective use of the established tradition that saints took an active interest in what happened to their physical remains, especially when specifying the right burial place. The Dominicans finally acquired Thomas’s remains in 1368. It says much about both the strong Cistercian and the Dominican tradition regarding the interpretation of Thomas’s words that in the new situation their meaning was reinterpreted once again. 49 This reinterpretation was made in a public context, namely in lections for Thomas’s new liturgical feast to honour the translation: His esteemed corpse had been placed in a tomb at the Cistercian Monastery of Fossanova, in the Bishopric of Terracina, in Campania. Under the eye of the divine justice [the corpse] was brought back to the Dominicans so that the prophesy would be completed: ‘This is my rest for ever and ever’. That comprises one Jubilee and a half, which amounts to seventyf ive years, the number predicted by the Saint Doctor in prophetical spirit.50

Thus, according to the lection, Thomas’s words had to be interpreted to refer to Christ’s second coming. On that day, at the end of time, the dead would rise for the Last Judgement. When the lessons were written, the Jubilee, that is, the year of Christ, an expectation of his new coming, occurred every fifty years. It seems that the Dominicans wanted to see Thomas’s ‘forever’ as a

47 Jacquin, 1923, p. 293: ‘ego ad vos revertar et ad locum priscum intra breve’. 48 Viola, 2003, pp. 67-84. 49 The need to reinterpret the saints’ last words or other predictions recurred often in similar cases when two or more parties quarrelled over the relics. Alternatively, words were not understood correctly in the first place and devotees reinterpreted them in a way more convenient to them or to the saint: see, for example, Thomas of Cantimpré, Life of Lutgard of Aywières III, p. 6. 50 Alia historia translationis 1: ‘eius venerabile corpus in Terracinæ Campaniæ monasterio Fosae-nouae Cisteriensis Ordinis sub deposito iacuisset, diuina desuper inspectante iustitia, [Corpus S. Thomae] ad ipsum Prædicatorum Ordinem est reductum: vt illud Propheticum compleretur elogium: Hæc requies mea in seculum seculi. Per seculum iubileum continens quinquagenum; per medium seculi medium iubilei, quod in septuagesimum quintum pergit numerum prophetali spiritu a sancto Doctore praefixum’.

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period between two Jubilees.51 With this allegory of the Jubilee the writer emphasized the nature of Thomas’s translation as his new coming: a new era was beginning for the Dominicans, under Thomas’s protection. With the reference to Christ’s second coming, the Dominican author may also have exploited the well-known Cistercian tradition on Thomas’s dwelling place, cleverly implying a reference to Bernard’s sermon in which Jesus approves the Heavenly Jerusalem, where he was to appear as a mark of the Last Judgement, as his dwelling place.52 The Dominicans plausibly wanted to build on this older tradition and show that their interpretation was in accordance with the Cistercian one. With this interpretation, the Dominicans explained why the corpse was ‘legally’, with the Saint’s own approval and public assent, transferred to the friars. Similarly, it explains why it occurred seventy-five years after Thomas’s death, as well as why ‘seculum seculi’ did not mean literally ‘forever’. By now, we have seen that the words ‘This is my rest for ever and ever’ were at the root of the dispute over Thomas’s corpse for a century. The Cistercians used the words he allegedly pronounced when he entered their Monastery as a mark of his own will to be entombed there forever. The tradition of the Cistercian interpretation seems to have been solid until the mid-fourteenth century, during the period when Thomas’s body was entombed in the Monastery. The Cistercians probably saw the canonization process as elevating the risk of losing Thomas’s body, when interest in the prospective Saint was growing. The existing tradition of Thomas’s last days at the Monastery was possibly developed at that time. The Dominicans interpreted the significance of the words differently, in such a way as to justify their right to possess Thomas’s body. For William of Tocco, Thomas’s words were a prophesy of his death, nothing more. When referring to the eternal rest, Thomas simply revealed his passage to the eternal life, not his wish to be in Fossanova forever. After William had published this interpretation of the words in the Ystoria, it did not change fundamentally in the Dominican texts. It was used and re-explained until the day the Dominicans f inally gained possession of the body of their esteemed brother.

51 Also an interpretation of Thomas’s words from the sixteenth century: Regio 1580, p. 80. 52 Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermons on the Song of Songs 27, p. 9: ‘No need to be surprised that the Lord Jesus should be pleased to dwell in this heaven, which he not only called into being by his word like the other creatures, but fought to acquire and died to redeem’. On the success of Bernard’s text in the medieval monastic milieu: Leclercq, 1982, pp. 84-86.

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At Thomas’s bedside According to the textual tradition, Thomas’s illness was noted widely in the area. People gathered at the Monastery, and it seems that Thomas’s bedside was crowded. Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis says that ‘the whole congregation of the Cistercians of Fossanova and numerous Franciscan and Dominican friars were present’.53 The number of interested people seems to have steadily increased. Several noblemen arrived, some of them Thomas’s relatives. Most of the people, however, were simply curious and arrived when they heard about Thomas’s weakening condition, wishing to be present when he departed on his last voyage.54 Although there were many to keep vigil at Thomas’s bedside on March 1274, few of them would have been alive in 1319, when the oral tradition on Thomas’s life was collected in Naples. The only eye-witnesses in the hearings are the Cistercians mentioned in the previous section. They depict Thomas’s stay at Fossanova in very general terms, stating that Thomas endured his illness quietly and humbly. Before his death he received the last sacraments, and burst into tears out of devotion.55 He accepted his forthcoming death peacefully, even happily. The Abbot referred to the monks’ zeal to serve Thomas, who was debilitated by his illness. From this description, if it were not known that the dying man became a saint, he might be considered a devout but ordinary Christian, and indeed, this was how the Cistercians presented Thomas’s death in their depositions.56 The scholarly tradition regarding the scene of the death of a saint candidate has emphasized the centrality of the last instructions or teaching as well as the last breath of the dying person.57 Yet, according to André Vauchez, in the popular imagery of the Late Middle Ages, different signs were needed—often physical ones—before a saint candidate was accepted as an object of people’s veneration.58 It is interesting that no particular weight is attached to these elements—teaching, corporeal signs, or last breath—in the testimonies of the Cistercian eye-witnesses, whereas teaching and speeches play the major role in the Dominican texts. It is also surprising that physical signs of sainthood are completely missing from both traditions, although they were popular in descriptions of other 53 54 55 56 57 58

Neapoli XLIX. Ystoria LXII. For example, Neapoli XV, XVIX. Vauchez, 1989, p. 526. Delarun, 1991. Vauchez, 1989, pp. 427-429; Sigal, 1998, p. 32.

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contemporary saints. Did the Cistercians or Dominicans argue Thomas’s sanctity in some particular, perhaps less fashionable way in their accounts of his last breath? I find it highly significant that neither party wished to emphasize corporeal signs at the moment of Thomas’s death. The reason for this avoidance will be fully explained in the next chapter, as it is connected to events some months after Thomas’s death, not solely to the moment of death. Among the Cistercian eye-witnesses was Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis, who repeated the following as Thomas’s last words on his deathbed: ‘I have taught and written much about the holy body of Christ. I have done this work in faith of God and the Holy Roman Church, to which I leave the judgement of my work’.59 After having pronounced these words, according to Petrus, Thomas died within three days. As the last words of a saint candidate, they could not be bettered, as they express both humility and a desire to serve. For Petrus it was apparently important to define Thomas’s intellectual legacy at the moment of death.60 William of Tocco expands the scene of Thomas’s preparation for death, using the testimony of Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis as a basis. William adds two new elements to the picture, claiming that the Cistercians requested that Thomas give some sign of his knowledge, and asked him to leave them a proper intellectual testament. In response to the request, Thomas first gave a short comment on Cantica canticorum.61 These were not, however, to remain as Thomas’s last words for long. According to William, after receiving the Eucharist, Thomas began to praise the Holy body with the verses commonly known nowadays as the text Adoro te. After the Holy unction Thomas died.62 William added the verses in the last version of the Ystoria. The prayer constitutes a representative ending to Thomas’s earthly life.63 It is interesting to note that William made only small adjustments to the canonization depositions in the hagiographical narrative. He was certainly aware of the contemporary literature and the currently popular conventions of saintly death. However, he used elements of this kind diligently. He does not, for example, depict any gesturing, such as raising of the eyes, hands, or 59 Neapoli XLIX: ‘Ego de isto santissimo Corpore et aliis sacramentis multa docui et scripsi, in fide Christi et sancte romane Ecclesie cuius correctioni omnia subicio et expono’. 60 On the importance of the descriptions of the Saint’s death as a part of hearings: Vauchez, 1989, pp. 526-527. 61 Ystoria LVII. 62 On prayers and similar as a saint’s last words: Sigal, 1998, pp. 26-27. In regard to the attribution of Adore te to Thomas: Wielockx, 1998; le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, p. 197. 63 Le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, pp. 197-198.

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torso towards heaven in the moment before death. William could have used previous Dominican hagiography as a model: for example, Theodoricus de Appoldia, a Dominican friar from the thirteenth century and author of a Life of Saint Dominic, describes Dominic as lifting his hands to heaven at the moment of death, after which the angels took his spirit.64 Thomas of Cantimpré, another thirteenth-century Dominican friar, uses these gestures abundantly in his lives. For example, the moment of the death of the Cistercian nun Lutgard of Aywières was manifested in the following way: At the very instant of her death she had, as I have said, opened her eyes to heaven, though they had previously been closed for a long time. Afterwards they could not be shut, neither in death nor after death, for the direction her eyes had taken showed the path her spirit had travelled.65

Descriptions of raising of eyes, hands, and the whole torso towards heaven were very popular expressions of someone’s sanctity at the moment of death in the Late Middle Ages. The most exceptional physical signs of sanctity were usually connected to the moment of the last breath.66 The last breath as presented in the Vita prima of Saint Francis became a popular model for the hagiography, liturgy, and iconography of the era: Francis’s originally dark skin became radiant with beautiful lightness, with supernatural beauty, his face was like the face of an angel, and his whole body became soft and flexible like the limbs of child.67 Thomas of Cantimpré adopted similar features in his lives.68 Exceptional among Thomas’s writings in its wealth of materiality is the description of Lutgard of Aywières’ appearance immediately after her death: Moreover, although it is a natural property of the dying to be darkened in the blue-grey pallor of death, yet Lutgard’s face shone with the lustre of a lily as a sign of her virginal innocence. […] The skin of her whole body was found to be so soft to be touch that it felt like linen beneath the hand, lustrous, and utterly soft. Certainly this simple dove without guide had

64 Theodoricus de Appoldia, Acta ampliora XX, V, II [239]. The origin of the episode is in the canonization material: Relatio Juridica 33. 65 Thomas of Cantimpré, Life of Lutgard of Aywières III, p. 17. 66 On physical signs in general, see Vauchez, 1989, pp. 428-445. 67 Thomas of Celano, Vita prima II, IX. The most striking signs of Francis’s sainthood, of course, were his stigmas, five wounds: Vauchez, 1989, p. 427; Benvenuti, 2005, pp. 187-191. 68 For example, see Thomas of Cantimpré, Life of Margaret of Ypres p. 50.

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eyes bathed in the milk of purity, she who dwelt in contemplation beside plentiful streams.69

Thomas of Cantimpré uses the body of Lutgard in the moment after death to express her sanctity. The saintly life and virtues were clearly revealed by such physical signs. In Thomas Aquinas’s case the later hagiography did not attribute miraculous signs to the dying body to any significant degree. However, William of Tocco did not disregard appearance as a mirror of sanctity: earlier in his Ystoria it is attested to in Thomas’s living body: Concerning the bodily proportion of the Doctor in question, it is equivalent with his spirit. He is said to have been grand, tall, and erect which responded the straightness of his soul. His skin had the colour of wheat, the sign of his equilibrium. He had a big head because his competence in service of the reason which requires perfect organs. He was slightly bald. His flesh was extremely delicate, the quality which with his intellectual aptitude refers also to his spirit. […] It seemed that God had prepared this very noble body, this instrument, with which he served obedient in the acts of virtue without ever being opposed with the judgement of the reason.70

According to Thomas Aquinas’s Summa, the inner virtus of saints was often seen in external signs, such as in the beauty of the body or from intelligence.71 Light as a physical part of sanctity, a reflection of a blessed man’s or woman’s proximity to God, was also an idea shared by Thomas himself. William, following Thomas’s thoughts, describes the master’s body as a perfect instrument of God: it was suitable to express His will through intellectual works as well as thaumaturgic acts. With the above description, William responds to the probable expectations of theologians as well as the laity regarding external signs of Thomas’s inner virtus, and hence his sanctity, but he chooses to describe this in Thomas’s lifetime rather than his moment of death.72 69 Thomas of Cantimpré, Life of Lutgard of Aywières III, p. 17. 70 Ystoria XXXVIII. See the same description in Legenda 35. The eye-witnesses who had known Thomas personally in his lifetime described him in the hearings of Naples as big, fat, and bald: Neapoli XV, XIX, XLII, XLV. 71 Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologica FS, Q4: A5-A6. Light and beauty (bodily portion, harmony, and integrity) were originally the epithets of God. On the theme, see especially Kessler, 2004, pp. 170-171. On signs of sanctity more generally, see Vauchez, 1989, p. 437. 72 It is interesting to note that it was not only uneducated people who needed physical evidence of sanctity: Boesch Gajano, 1999a, p. 19; Simons, 1994, pp. 11-23. See also the analysis of this

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There are similarities between the appearance of the deceased Lutgard and the living Thomas: the skin is soft and radiates light. Both descriptions refer indirectly to their beauty: to Lutgard’s by metaphor, to Thomas’s by physical harmony. Additionally, the language of the description is full of materiality and things that can be experienced by hearing, but presumably their corporeal presence was also experienced by the imagination of seeing and touching.73 Naturally, after the moment of the last breath, the kind of physical beauty described in both cases would have been perceived as a miracle in itself, as becomes evident in Lutgard’s case. Thomas was described as a saintly person, but according to his biographer, his sanctity was not revealed corporeally at the moment of death. Paradoxically, William’s choice not to discuss the dead body did not prevent the growth of devotion centred on the corporeal signs of Thomas’s sainthood - quite the contrary. Some medieval sources stress corporeality as an emblem of Thomas’s living sanctity in William’s spirit. In his extensive study of late medieval sainthood, André Vauchez has masterfully explored Thomas’s big size as a remarkable feature among the physical representations of sanctity. Vauchez emphasized a tale in Historia translationis text, which explains that Thomas, when he was still living, was passing by the fields of Priverno, when the people who were working there interrupted their duties to admire ‘the magnitude of his body and beauty of his human appearance’.74 The words refer to the association of large size and beauty, and further, of sanctity among the laity. There are several other signs that emphasize Thomas’s size and beauty in the sources. In the canonization hearings of Fossanova in 1321, a layman named Bartholomaeus Petri Bennicasse testified that one night a person in the Dominican habit appeared to him. This person was big, and his face was agreeable. These indications, and the fact that Bartholomaeus was cured of his illness, convinced him that the person in his vision was Thomas Aquinas.75 Interestingly, facial features also receive particular attention in description regarding the corporeality of Thomas’s soul in Baschet and Bonne, 1998, pp. 206-207 and passim. 73 On touch and gaze as the media to awake feelings in religious literary or pictorial language: Kessler, 2004, p. 27; Bynum, 2011, p. 105 and passim. 74 Archivio dei predicatori, Ms. A, fol. 113v: ‘tam magnam corporis quantitatem et pulchritudinem in humana specie admirantes’; Vauchez, 1989, pp. 438-439. Vauchez uses as his reference point an article of Laurent, in which he gives a transliteration of the first chapter of the Historia translationis text, not edited in AASS. See Laurent, 1940a. Constant Mews has, however, noted the difference between Ms. A (known also as Ms. Serie VII 10160, Cividale) and the AASS edition. I will return to the difference later in this book. 75 Fossanova LVIII.

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the Dominican context.76 For example, at the Dominican Church of Fondi in 1368, a friar was unsure whether the relics they had received from the Count of Fondi were, as claimed, the remains of Saint Thomas Aquinas. The friar soon received a vision which removed all his doubts. According to the source, Thomas appeared to him as beautiful in appearance and handsome of face, dressed in the habit of the Preachers.77 Some years before, at the Castle of Fondi, the mother of the Count and the mother of the Bishop were also doubtful as to whether the relics they venerated were really the remains of Saint Thomas Aquinas until, as the account tells, the aforesaid Doctor came forward from the coffin that contained the relics as a clear vision. Thomas paced the room so that the ladies could see him clearly in his habit of the Order, looking at them with a blissful face.78 It appears that in visions Thomas was recognizable by his big or otherwise impressive stature, by his pleasant face, and his Dominican habit. The size and face identified Thomas as the Saint and the Dominican habit revealed him as one of the Order of Preachers. As we can clearly see from the examples, Thomas’s appearance and his known form identified nebulous bones as his sacred relics. Next, it is worth pondering why the descriptions of Thomas’s appearance at the moment of death did not receive much attention, let alone any dramatic description, especially in the Dominican narrative tradition of the Middle Ages. One reason may be that the appearance of the earlier Dominican Saints Dominic and Peter Martyr were not described in this way in their hagiography, either at the moment of death or after death. The Dominican narrative tradition seems to maintain a ‘naturalistic’ descriptive character, without supernatural signs in the descriptions of the death of their brethren.79 It is clear that William wrote Thomas’s Life to form part of the same holy history and the literal tradition of the Order as the previous saints’ lives.80 In addition to the traditional Dominican aspects, Thomas’s image in the Ystoria should be considered in close relation to the period when it was written and its primary purpose. From these two viewpoints, 76 The face was the part of the body which most prominently expressed the signs of sanctity as we have seen also from the citation from the Life of Lutgard above: see III, p. 17. Beautiful (angel like face) was a reference to Bible, for example Acts 6:15. Regarding the Dominican friars, for example: ‘Erat enim aspectu angelicus, sermone nitidus, corpore pulcer, sanctus opera et omni suavitate conspicuus,’ see Chronica 26. In the Middle Ages (as today) the face was considered the mirror of the soul: Vauchez, 1989, p. 436. 77 Alia historia translationis 4. 78 Alia historia translationis 2. 79 See Maiarelli, 1995, LIII-LIX. 80 On the same theme: Dubreil-Arcin, 2011, p. 82.

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the Ystoria was largely an attempt to secure Thomas’s canonization and legitimate his sainthood. It is likely that the religious-political context of the time, especially the interests of Pope John XXII and the atmosphere of Avignon, influenced the finished form of William’s work.81 William’s Ystoria was formulated in close connection to the proceeding canonization process. The first version of the Ystoria and the miracles collected by then were studied in the Papal Curia in 1318.82 The Pope’s role has certainly been seen as significant for Thomas’s successful canonization, and it is even possible that the initiative came from him.83 Pierre Mandonnet, for example, has researched the Pope’s strong involvement in the case. Mandonnet states that the theme of the sermon of the Pope—‘This is a day of good tidings. If we hold our peace, and do not tell it till the morning, we shall be charged with a crime’84—strongly expressed the Pontiff’s own sentiments about a long procedure that had finally reached a satisfactory end.85 Personal promotion of a saint’s cult was nothing new for the medieval popes. There are several reasons why Pope John XXII may have been interested in Thomas’s canonization. He was perhaps interested in the scholastic saints in general; he had already canonized Louis of Toulouse.86 That John had a liking for Thomas’s doctrine is widely accepted by scholars. Thomas was perceived as a defender of the Catholic Church on several different issues.87 From Thomas’s writings, the Pope found support for his temporal power in his dispute with the Emperor, and probably even more importantly, for the defence of the orthodox faith and the Roman Church against heresy.88 Heresy seems to have been a constant problem in Southern France and Italy: at the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, there was again particularly intense activity against both heretics and inquisitors.89 It also 81 The popes resided in Avignon, in France, rather than in Rome from 1309 to 1378. 82 Janssens, 1924, pp. 209-210; le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, pp. 10-12, 68-69. For detailed information about the whole process from Gaeta to Avignon till the day of the canonization: Mandonnet, 1924, pp. 19-48. 83 For the most recent examination of this, see Dubreil-Arcin, 2011, p. 82. Initially, the Dominicans are considered to have promoted the canonization of Raymond of Peñafort, the Spanish Dominican friar and the author of the Constitutions of the Order: Walz, 1925, pp. 118-121. 84 4 Kings 7:9. 85 Mandonnet, 1924, p. 5. On the canonization bull and the pope’s personal interests: Goodich, 2004; Torrell, 1996, pp. 317-318. 86 Boesch Gajano, 1999a, p. 83. 87 Di Meglio, 2013, pp. 103-104. 88 Torrell, 1996, pp. 321-324; le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, pp. 7-9. 89 Théry, 2001.

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seems that John XXII leaned on Thomas’s doctrine in this struggle, perhaps partly because of the influence of Dominican friars, who led the Southern French Inquisition, or those friars who served the Pope at the Curia.90 These same Dominicans were active in Thomas’s canonization.91 It is certain that John XXII did not accept the Franciscan emphasis on Christ’s poverty, and in this discussion Thomas seems to have been the Pope’s best advocate.92 David Burr has discussed Thomas’s treatise in regard to the difference between observing the rule and living according to it. According to Burr, by making this distinction Thomas praised his own Order at Franciscan expense.93 This distinction was obviously one on which Pope John XXII based his praise of the poverty Thomas represented, and his accusations that the Spirituals’ interpretation was erroneous.94 As regards the Spirituals’ reaction, among other things they claimed that John himself was a heretic because of his interpretations of Christ’s and apostolic poverty.95 Thus, it seems plausible that Thomas’s canonization was a very powerful comment on the correctness of the Pope’s doctrinal views. As Thomas was canonized, his thoughts were certainly approved at the highest possible level. It is important to note that John XXII had already canonized Louis of Toulouse in 1317, and presented the new Saint in a positive light, although Louis had been a staunch supporter of Franciscan poverty.96 The new Saint, canonized six years afterwards, may have been a fresh consideration regarding poverty and the models the saints offered. It can be argued that Thomas became a symbol of a proper and correct poverty. There are several indications that the canonization festivities were designed to manifest not only Thomas’s supremacy but also the Pope’s (hoped for) victory over 90 Burr, 2001. Pierre Mandonnet emphasizes John’s interest in Thomas’s writings, which were collected for his library in the Avignon Palace. Among the inquisitors was Bernard Gui: see Mandonnet, 1923, pp. 27-28; Walz, 1925. 91 According to Mandonnet, three Dominican cardinals were active: Nicolaus de Prato, Guillelmus Petri de Godino, and Nicolaus de Fréauville, who was also confessor of the King of France. See Mandonnet, 1923, p. 26. Walz mentions several other Dominicans who also had the chance to promote the canonization in Avignon, among them Bernard Gui, Hervey de Nedellec, Guillelmus de Lauduno, Ptolemy of Lucca, Johannes de Columna, and Nicolas Trivet: Walz, 1925, pp. 127-129. On Hervey’s activity, see Mortier, 1907, pp. 563-570. 92 Kelly, 2003, pp. 74-90; Vauchez, 1977b, pp. 758-760; Benvenuti, 2005, p. 195. 93 Burr, 2001, pp. 54-55. 94 On Thomas’s theology and the papal teaching, especially on the poverty issue, see Horst, 2006. 95 Nold, 2009. 96 Nold, 2009, pp. 139-140; Di Meglio, 2013, p. 104.

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Franciscan spirituality and heretics.97 Indeed, eye-witnesses to Thomas’s canonization festivities reported that in his public sermons the Pope praised the Dominican way of life as well as Thomas’s, who had lived according to the ideals of vita apostolica. Thomas had not possessed anything, but used things which were owned by the Order in common.98 As a matter of fact, even a Franciscan, Iohannes de Tixanderie, the Bishop of Lodève, gave a speech.99 According to Bentius, a Dominican friar and an eye-witness of the festivities, the Franciscan Bishop surpassed the others in his eloquence about Thomas and the Dominican Order. The background to this statement is probably the history of Franciscan anti-Thomism: the Franciscans had tried to dispute Thomas’s doctrine and his writings several times already during his lifetime.100 From the Pope’s side, his choice of Iohannes de Tixanderie as one of the official preachers was possibly meant to emphasize the correct side of the Franciscan movement, which approved Thomas’s theology. Opposition to Thomas’s doctrines continued: for example, according to André Vauchez, the Franciscans tried to prevent Thomas’s canonization and the victory of Thomism even at the last moment.101 One mark of this opposition appears to be a miracle story according to which one especially intelligent friar opposed the canonization in Avignon with great authority, claiming that he would prefer to die before seeing the day when Thomas was canonized. According to the story, the night following the canonization, this Franciscan friar did in fact die. As the composer of the miracle describes it, this was an astonishing and terrifying work of God and Thomas.102 The amount of anti-Franciscan material connected with the canonization of 97 For rich descriptions on the canonization festivities in streets and churches of Avignon: Mandonnet, 1924; Walz, 1925. 98 Laurent, 1937, pp. 513-514; Horst, 2006, pp. 5-7; Kelly, 2004, p. 99 and passim. 99 The theme of the prayer was ‘Doctor gentium in fide et veritate’, 1 Tim 2:7. Giovanni de Tixanderie was in Avignon and able to give the speech because he was consecrated as the Bishop on 9 July 1323. John Stratfard was also consecrated on 26 June, and he too gave a speech at the canonization festivities. On the career of Tixanderie: Taurisano, 1924b, pp. 314-315. See also Fryde, 1971, an article on John Stratfard, Bishop of Winchester (1323-1333) and the beginning of his political career. 100 In general, on Thomist doctrine and the controversy with the Franciscans, see Horst, 2006. The special emphasis on the falseness of Thomas’s doctrinal legacy came out along with the condemnation of 1277 at Paris: for example Torrell, 1996, pp. 298-310. 101 Vauchez, 1977b, p. 760. 102 The miracle story survives in one manuscript from the Dominican Convent of Vienna: see the transcription of Grabmann, 1949. In the story the Franciscan friars were accused of opposing the canonization process by various malicious means because of their jealousy of Thomas in general.

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Thomas is notable. Vauchez stresses that John XXII continued the chosen line in the canonization bull, which was especially directed against Spirituals, Averroism, and Nominalism.103 Interestingly, the open attack seems to have strongly affected the Spiritual Franciscans and their followers. One mark of how Thomas’s canonization was perceived among them is a startling testimony of one Beguine, Donna Prous Boneta from Montpellier, given before the tribunal of the Inquisition at Carcassonne in 1325. She describes Peter Olivi and Thomas Aquinas as Abel and Cain, the brothers, and continues by saying that Cain, recently canonized, killed his brother spiritually.104 Pierre Torrell emphasizes that Prous Boneta’s testimony must be seen as representing the wider Spiritual-affected viewpoint, according to which Thomas and his writings were forcefully used against dissidents. The papal propaganda on Thomas as a fervent defender of orthodoxy appears to have been diffused deeply among those communities where the Spirituals found support.105 Besides papal politics and doctrinal questions, in the background of Thomas’s canonization may be noted Southern Italian actors and their connections to the larger current issues. It is vital to remember that the official initiative to begin the examination of Thomas’s sainthood was made in the names of the royal family, other nobles, and the University and Dominicans of Naples.106 Among these groups, the royal family and the Dominicans supported the project in a big way.107 Interestingly, both the cults of Thomas Aquinas and Louis of Toulouse are linked in Angevin royal ideology so as to emphasize the family’s sainthood.108 In Louis’s case this is self-evident, as he was King Charles II’s son and King Robert’s brother, but Aquinas seems to have become close without blood relationship.109 It appears that for Robert, Thomas’s ideas on good government formed a 103 Vauchez, 1977b, p. 761. 104 The case of Donna Prous Boneta is studied in several contexts, see, for example Burr, 2000, pp. 230-237. 105 Torrell, 1996, pp. 322-323. 106 Neapoli III. 107 On the Angevin activity, see Pellegrini, 2005, p. 408 and on the Southern Italian Dominicans: Vauchez, 1977b. 108 Klaniczay, 2000; Di Meglio, 2013, pp. 101-104. Anna Benvenuti stresses that the reason behind the canonization of both Louis and Thomas was the lord-vassal relationships between the Pope and the Angevin King of Naples, the matter which was usually in the background when sanctity was proclaimed during the Avignon papacy: Benvenuti, 2005, p. 195. On Robert’s and John’s close relationship before Thomas’s canonization: Kelly, 2003, pp. 74-81. 109 Charles II was King of Naples 1285-1309, his son Robert 1309-1343. On Angevin Holy kingship: Kelly, 2003; Vauchez, 1989, pp. 136-139, 192-193.

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basis for his self estimation as a king.110 In general, Thomas’s fame and his patriotism towards Naples were probably valued by the Angevins to such an extent that Thomas’s incorporation among the royal saints was natural to reinforce the legitimacy of Angevin rule—some aspects of this Angevin ideology and Thomas’s cult are discussed in a more comprehensive way in Chapter III. For the Dominicans, besides the internal reasons of the Order of Preachers and the Neapolitan convent—the internal themes are explored further in Chapter IV—Thomas’s promotion in Southern Italy and France may have been partly an attempt to acquire more influence at the royal court, as Charles II had been seen as becoming distinctively pro-Franciscan. In this goal, the Dominicans wanted to offer their own alternative to the already successful Saint Louis of Toulouse.111 In addition, it is worth noting that the Spiritual Franciscans and other heretical groups were constantly active in Southern Italy, something that was probably of concern to both the Dominican Order and the papacy; accordingly, there was need of a special protector of the Church in the Kingdom of Naples.112 The context of Thomas’s canonization was thus an eventful period of intense religious-political disputes, discussions, and actions. Indeed, the canonization appears to have formed an integral part of this context, a context which also formed the outlines for the Ystoria. The poverty issue, for example, can probably be detected in the Ystoria, as William avoided themes too closely linked to Franciscan spirituality and the spectacular elements popularly associated with the death of Saint Francis, poverello. However, if the anti-Franciscan elements in Thomas’s canonization were something that echoed the Pope’s attitude, it is surprising that William does not use these themes it the Ystoria. Somewhat later, Bernard Gui, possibly from the Inquisitor’s angle, was much more eager to manifest Thomas’s victory over the Franciscans, a good example being a miracle story told by Bernard: according to this story, a Franciscan friar ponders whether Thomas’s writings were correct. He then receives a vision in which Saint Francis and Saint Thomas appear, and Francis announces that Thomas’s writings contain the truth.113 110 Boyer, 1995, p. 217. 111 On Saint Louis’ success in medieval Europe: Vauchez, 1989, pp. 193-195; Gardner, 1976. 112 Grado Giovanni Merlo stresses the impact of the canonization of Louis of Toulouse on the message of the holiness of Angevin kingship and the Angevin patronage of the Franciscans, even the Order’s more radical wing: Merlo, 2012, p. 243. 113 De miraculis S. Thomae III, p. 98. William has included a similar miracle in his Miracula (the visionary is every friar, not indicated as a Franciscan) but his tone is much less polemic and no controversy between Thomas’s and the Franciscan doctrine can be detected: Miracula CXLVI.

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In sum, William appears to have been cautious on topical and political issues, while maintaining the original Dominican spirit. Finally, the Ystoria sancti Thome de Aquino was completed as a distinctively Dominican Life, without sustaining too strongly the papal or other fashionable visions. Its most important function was to offer a model for the perfect life for its members and strengthen their identity as Dominican friars.114 One important issue for the Order is the model of the scholar, although, as Carla Frova states, this is not as strong as one might expect.115 Interestingly enough, although William seems to differentiate Thomas’s death from the deaths of Francis or other Franciscan saints, he also links Thomas more to the tradition of the mystics like Francis than to scholarly saints. In the Ystoria, there is particular emphasis on aspects of Thomas’s life that are reminiscent of the lives of late medieval women mystics—for instance, when Thomas’s meditation reaches such a level that he rises on air (levitates).116 I would suggest that William intended his Thomas to outdo Saint Francis and his fellow saints, especially Saint Louis of Toulouse, the contemporary contender, or at least to offer a model of Dominican sanctity that would have appealed to a wider audience by offering relatively exciting and emotionally interesting stories.117 William most likely finished his Ystoria immediately after the canonization process was concluded, in July 1323.118 He then added a relatively long passage at the end of the final version of the manuscript. The very last words of the Ystoria brought it closer to the popular theme of wonderful light: ‘At night, the air above his tomb was often seen to shine with wonderful light. It indicates how much he had shone when he lived’.119 A couple of years after William, Bernard Gui connected the light more clearly to Thomas’s dead 114 Räsänen, 2010; Tilatti, 2003; Canetti, 1996, p. 398 and passim. 115 Frova, 1994, p. 211. See an opposing opinion in Dubreil-Arcin, 2011, p. 82. 116 Ystoria LII. According to Caroline Walker Bynum, numerous saintly women, among others, lived without eating and they could triumph over organic processes. The indications of the triumph were different miraculous signs in the body, including incorruptibility. Some women miraculously became lighter and levitated: Bynum, 1995, pp. 220-225. 117 There are narrative and allegorical similarities, for example, in the ways Francis and Thomas entered into their Orders: Räsänen, 2010, p. 204; they are depicted in San Francesco d’Assisi and Santa Maria Novella of Florence: Russo, 2011, pp. 86-87. 118 William completed the Ystoria with his last strength. He probably died in 1323 or 1324: le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, p. 16. 119 Ystoria LXX: ‘Nam frequenter super eius sepulcrum diffusus aer uisus est de nocte mira luce splendescere, et quantum splenduisset dum uiueret indicare’. Also at the end of Miracula (CXLIII) Thomas is described as having been perceived as a flame among the Neapolitan people at the time of the canonization.

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body.120 In his Legenda, Bernard describes Thomas’s corpse at the end of the funeral rite as a sort of a vessel of alabaster.121 Bernard thus connects Thomas’s body more closely to the image of the corpses of the dead saints, although his description is much more abstract than, for example, that of Thomas of Cantimpré above. Alabaster had a long tradition in medieval symbolism. Herbert Kessler refers to certain materials which were used in medieval art ‘because they seemed, in their very nature, to negotiate between the world of matter and the world of spirit, which were continuously being transformed in changing light’.122 Following Kessler’s idea, I read Bernard’s description as deeply material and symbolic at the same time: at the material level Thomas is the luminous vessel of virginal purity; he is like a white and transparent precious stone. As matter, it is able to reflect the beauty of Thomas’s body. At the symbolic level, Thomas is the vessel of God’s wisdom, and in its transparency it filters God’s light and his words in a way which was also understandable to normal humans. According to Bernard, Thomas’s corpse was the container of the sacred in its most literal meaning. In death, this body was transformed into an alabaster reliquary, containing bones that reflected the light of God. Bernard Gui shows much greater interest in Thomas’s death body than William before him. The passage described above is not the only sign of Bernard’s interests. Bernard’s Legenda is post-canonization, and it may be that the difference between it and William’s Ystoria is attributable to this lack of tight connection to Thomas’s canonization and its success. Bernard was also a more experienced hagiographer than William, and he may have had a better understanding of which themes struck a chord with the audience.123 I will analyse William’s and especially Bernard’s texts, as well as their differences, more deeply in the last chapter. As for William’s Ystoria in general and the episode of Thomas’s death in particular, the fact that the Dominicans did not possess Thomas’s remains determined, in my opinion, how William created Thomas’s memory in the hereafter without references to the earthly remains. William did not include Thomas’s dead body in the repertoire of meditative images. Bernard did, and at the same 120 There are slightly different opinions on the date (ranging between the years 1324 and 1326) when Bernard finished his Legenda: le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, pp. 16, 22; Colledge, 1974. 121 Legenda XL; Foster, 1959, p. 56. A vessel seems to have been a common allegory of a saint, see, for example The Life of Zita of Lucca: ‘she was an elected vessel of sanctification, adorned with multiple grace of the virtues and dedicated to sanctity’. On medieval allegories of a resurrected body as a vessel, jewel, temple etc: Bynum, 1995. 122 Kessler, 2004, p. 29; Schmitt, 1999, pp. 152-153. 123 For an insightful study on Bernard Gui as a hagiographer: Dubreil-Arcin, 2011.

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time he offered, at least in theory, the possibility of an imaginative perception of Thomas’s relics to the friars and his audience in general.124 I examined above the moment of Thomas’s last breath, seeking the physical signs which were never described in that context. The Cistercians who looked after the dying man did not describe the last breath at all. The Dominicans also avoided this theme, despite its previous use in Dominican hagiographical literature and its popularity in Franciscan hagiography, and presumably in the contemporary lay imagination. When death came, the traditional signs of sanctity did not appear in Thomas’s body but in different places to different people. It is to this theme that I turn next.

Visions of the last breath In his Ystoria, William of Tocco states: ‘The moment in which our Doctor left this life had to be announced by some new signs. Seeing the signs indicated that the death was blissful’. This indicates that William knew full well the importance of signs which appeared at the moment of a saint candidate’s death. In fact, William recollects a long list of signs, but none of them were connected to the body of the dying Thomas. The signs were seen far away from Fossanova and Thomas’s deathbed.125 I would argue that William and the Dominican audience concentrated on the non-physical aspects of Thomas’s death, and its observance was not connected to the place of his death. In Thomas’s canonization process they were concerned with Thomas’s soul, not the body, when they described his last breath. In the first round of the canonization hearings in 1319, some Dominican witnesses presented the tradition concerning Thomas’s death within the Order to the comissars. On Saturday 4 August Antonius de Brixia, a young Dominican student from the convent of Naples, testified about a vision described to him by Albertus de Brixia, the Dominican lector of the convent of Brescia.126 Albertus had told Antonius how Albert the Great, Thomas’s teacher in Paris (1245-1248) and Cologne (1248-1252), had suddenly begun to cry when they were eating in the refectory of the convent. Albert was asked why he cried and he answered that God had informed him that ‘Brother 124 On the Dominican saints and their corporeal presence in the Florentine imagination: Russo, 2012; and in the friars’ imagination: Gerbron, 2010. More generally, on the materiality of the language and meditation: Bynum, 2011, pp. 101-102. 125 Ystoria LIX. 126 Neapoli LXVI.

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Thomas Aquinas, my son in Christ, who was the light of the Church, has died’.127 Four days later it was the turn of an old Dominican friar from the convent of Gaeta, Leonardus de Gaeta, to testify. He told of a hermit who had seen a vision of three stars above the Monastery of Fossanova at the time of Thomas’s death. Leonardus had heard the story from another Dominican, Thomas de Fuscis, who had been Thomas Aquinas’s disciple.128 According to Leonardus, Thomas de Fuscis had heard about the vision from the hermit himself. Leonardus said the hermit had first seen a big star fall from the sky above the Monastery of Fossanova at the moment Thomas died. Then two other stars followed it, and lifted the first star back into the heavens.129 Both witnesses testified about the same moment, that of Thomas’s last breath. At this particular moment life and death were intertwined in an irrevocable way: the last breath was the moment when the soul was believed to transit from the body. Signs of the soul’s transit to heaven were often the most desired, sought, and narrated evidence of the death of a person regarded as saintly.130 Regardless of the seemingly indispensable nature of the description of the last breath, only Antonius and Leonardus gave testimony about it in the canonization hearings. The Cistercian eye-witnesses, as we noted above, simply mentioned Thomas’s death, but they mentioned no performance—if the last sacraments are not counted—whatsoever at the place of death. The later Dominican literature, on the other hand, went to some lengths to describe different visions received in several places at the moment of Thomas’s last breath. Both Antonius and Leonardus were third grade witnesses and as such they were an anomaly in the canonization hearings of Naples. All others who gave testimony in Naples seem to have been eye-witnesses to at least one of the events they referred to. In others they were the second grade witnesses. William, who apparently had the main responsibility for choosing the witnesses, had done his best to call trustworthy and good witnesses.131 Although William did not have total control over which witnesses appeared, 127 Neapoli LXVII: ‘Frater Thomas de Aquino, filius meus in Christo, qui fuit lumen ecclesie mortuus est’. On Thomas as Albert’s disciple: Torrell, 1996, pp. 18-35. 128 Thomas de Fuscis was elected as General Preacher of the Roman province in the Chapter of Rome in 1273. Thus, according to Taurisano, Thomas must have been Saint Thomas’s disciple already when the saint taught for the first time in Italy, probably in Anagni between 1259 and 1261: Taurisano, 1924a, p. 125 note 3. 129 Neapoli LXXV. 130 Delarun, 1991, p. 194. 131 On witnesses and their calling in the canonization processes, see Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 24-28, 48.

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especially those from Fossanova, he was probably glad to allow these two brethren of his to testify in front of the canonization committee: through Antonius Albert the Great’s authority was present in the canonization hearings.132 Leonardus was an important witness because he had personally known Thomas and because he knew of a miracle ante mortem, a rarity in Thomas’s miracle material.133 Additionally, the miracle regarding the vision of the hermit may already have been an important part of the narrative tradition of the Dominican culture in Southern Italy. It certainly seems that a vision of three stars became a part of Thomas’s commemoration among the Dominicans at a very early stage, possibly as early as 1274. Latinus de Malabranca, a Roman Dominican and future cardinal, composed verses on the ascending and descending star in his hymn for Thomas’s memory.134 The hymn is called Planctus de morte fr. Thomae [de Aquino]. A part of one verse reads: ‘The star was seen to descend from the summit of the sky / after which it ascended accompanied by two other stars’. The dating of the Planctus strongly suggests that the tradition of the vision of three stars originated in the period immediately after Thomas’s death. It appears that Latinus’s Planctus was recorded in several medieval manuscripts. It reinforces the idea that the oral memory of the star vision had been diffused widely by and among the Dominicans well before the canonization.135 After the star episode, Latinus’s verse continues: ‘the blind was given sight / the deaf, the dumb were restored to health; through these it became clear that Thomas would be glorified in the heavenly palace.136 These words also testify to the early existence of Thomas’s cult among the Dominicans of Southern Italy. The roots of the vision may be found in a deeper tradition of similar narratives. The themes of stars and other phenomena of light in the sky 132 Neapoli LXVI-LXVII. 133 Neapoli LXXV. Leonardus knew Thomas from the period Thomas lived at the convent of Naples in 1272-1273. Leonardus had heard the ante mortem miracle from Raynaldus de Piperno, Thomas’s socius. According to the testimony, a woman was cured from the haemorrhagic disease when she touched the hem of Thomas’s habit at Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome. An identical miracle is described by Mark 5:25-34. In this version the woman touches Jesus’s hem and she is cured. 134 On the dating of the Planctus, see for example Birkenmajer, 1922, p. 33. Birkenmajer did not yet attribute the Planctus to Latinus, nor did Laurent (1937, pp. 586-588). Especially on the attribution: Kaeppeli, 1980, p. 62. On Latinus de Malabranca Romanus: Vendittelli, 2006. 135 Kaeppeli, 1980, p. 62. 136 ‘Stella cadens demonstratur de celi fastigio / Que per duas elevatur stellas de discidio. / Ceco datur visio / Surdus, claudus reparatur, per quod fit ostensio, Quod Thomas glorificatur in regni palatio’: Laurent, 1937.

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derive from the hagiographical literature of Late Antiquity, possibly even earlier. Pope Damasus, for example, described Saint Peter and Saint Paul as the stars in his famous verses to the Roman martyrs. Later, a star which shines above a saint’s tomb became a common sign, connected particularly to the moment of death.137 From early Christian culture a more ‘dynamic’ version of the element of light was also derived, describing the transit of the soul. A good example comes from The Life of Saint Willibrord, composed by the famous eighth-century hagiographer Alcuin: ‘The death of the holy man was revealed to one of his religious disciples […] he saw the soul of his saintly father surrounded by a bright radiance as it was being carried by a host of angels towards the realms above, all singing his praises’.138 The similarities between Leonardus’s testimony, Latinus’s verses, and Alcuin’s narration are obvious. The tradition regarding Thomas’s death, which seems to recall the earliest Christian times, is also very interesting in that—according to Caroline Walker Bynum—from the thirteenth century onwards, the soul is almost always presented as an ‘individualized body’ in narratives of visions.139 It is interesting to note that William of Tocco remodelled Leonardus’s narration of the vision. In the Ystoria, the episode appears to differ from the presumably original one, in that William omitted the hermit and replaced him with a monk of Fossanova. According to William, the monk fell asleep while praying in the church of Fossanova. While sleeping he saw a vision in which a remarkable bright star descended. Two other stars followed it and after a moment all three ascended together, all equally large and brilliant. At the same moment the monk awoke to the bells of the Monastery, which rang out the message of Thomas’s death. William thus explains the meaning of the vision: the descending star was a mark of Thomas’s soul, which exited the body at the moment of death. Soon the soul ascended to heaven with two of its companions, that is, the souls of other saints.140 William’s alteration is interesting. The reason for it appears to have been practical and in part a matter of credibility. For Miracula, however, William probably saw challenges which the long chain of evidence may have caused to the story about the last breath. The replacement of the visionary hermit might appear small, but it may also have been a risk: in Southern Italian 137 Brown, 1983, pp. 69-85. William also added another vision to the Ystoria, in which there was a comet for three days above the monastery of Fossanova. Its disappearance was a sign of Thomas’s death: Ystoria LIX. 138 Alcuin, The Life of Saint Willibrord 26. 139 Bynum, 1995, pp. 294-317. 140 Ystoria LIX.

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culture hermits had been highly respected for their wisdom and sanctity for centuries, thanks to, among others, Saint Benedict of Nursia.141 There also exists a pictorial interpretation of Thomas’s last breath. It is a part of a fresco cycle in the Church of Santa Maria in Piano, in Loreto Aprutino. The commissioners of the work were the Aquino family, as the frescoes were painted in the family chapel of the counts of Aquino at the beginning of the fifteenth century.142 At that time the counts of Aquino, Thomas’s descendants, were the lords of Loreto Aprutino (1330-1575). One fresco from the cycle is dedicated to Thomas’s last breath. It depicts one friar or monk in the right corner of the fresco with another, smaller person. They are looking at the sky, where there are four figures in the air above some buildings. One of them is an ascending, tonsured, but otherwise child-like and naked figure, a representation of Thomas’s soul.143 The scene of the last breath of the fresco cycle has been intensively studied by Jérôme Baschet and Jean-Claude Bonne in their article ‘La chair de l’esprit. À propos d’une image insolite de Thomas d’Aquin’ (1998). They analyse Thomas’s soul, which is depicted as a naked, and according to them, rather realistic figure, which may be linked to a selection of texts on Thomas, most prominently William of Tocco’s Ystoria. According to Baschet and Bonne, the scene is a metaphor for Thomas’s sanctity and intellectual ascendancy, and as such the painting spiritualizes Thomas’s body.144 I would approach the message of the fresco from the opposite direction: the painting depicts Thomas’s soul-body and as such it made Thomas’s spirituality real and material to the audience. For medieval people, the corporeality of Thomas’s soul was a key to the meditation on and profound understanding of Thomas’s spirituality and sanctity, and not vice versa.145 At its most straightforward, the fresco is interpreted as the vision of Thomas’s death seen by a Dominican friar, Paulus de Aquila.146 Jérôme Baschet and Jean-Claude Bonne have traced two episodes which can be considered 141 On eremitism in Southern Lazio: Howe, 1997. 142 Datings of the fresco-cycle vary from the 1330s to the year 1428: Baschet and Bonne, 1998, 193; d’Isola, 1958, p. 153; Marighetto, 2001, p. 21. More generally on the research history of the fresco-cycle: Dell’Orso, 1988. See also: Kaftal, 1965, pp. 1089-1093. 143 In medieval theology there was a never-ending debate over the unity/plurality of body and soul. See the profound study of Bynum, 1995. Concerning medieval artists and how they often depicted an invisible soul as a miniature repetition of the human form: Camille, 1997, p. 70. 144 Baschet and Bonne, 1998. 145 On the allegorical and analogical reading of the Dominican themes: Russo, 2011; and on the Dominican corpses especially: Russo, 2012. 146 Marighetto, 2001, p. 48. Once the frescoes had explanatory verses written under the scenes, but unfortunately most of them are illegible today. On the verses, see d’Isola, 1958, p. 152.

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Illustration 2  The soul of Thomas Aquinas at the moment of his death

the inspiration for the painting. As they claim, two successive chapters of William of Tocco’s Ystoria are juxtaposed in the picture, which results in a new and in a certain sense independent, unique theme from a literary tradition.147 The first of these chapters gives us the narration of the three stars and the second describes the vision of Paulus de Aquila. The story of three stars in William’s Ystoria has been described above, so we can turn to Paulus’s vision. Paulus, a Dominican friar in the convent of Naples, received a vision in which Thomas was teaching when Saint Paul the Apostle and other saints entered the class. At the end of the lesson Paul first accepted Thomas’s lesson, then announced that he intended to lead him to a place where he would gain an even clearer understanding of everything. According to William, Paulus de Aquila, the visionary, realized immediately the meaning of his vision; he ran and cried to other friars that Thomas had passed away. Before we move on in the analysis of the mural painting, it is worth noting that the tradition regarding Paulus’s vision is wider than that presented in the Ystoria. Ptolemy of Lucca first published an account of the vision, and the most remarkable difference between his and William’s text is that the 147 Ystoria LIX and LX. Baschet and Bonne, 1998, p. 204.

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former identifies the persons who accompanied Paul the Apostle as Marinus, the Archbishop of Capua, and Matthaeus, the Archbishop of Salerno, both famous for their knowledge.148 According to Delarun, in the standard hagiographical form the vision of the last breath was often seen by a person who would become a successor to the dying person, and as such the vision had a great religious-political value.149 I consider Ptolemy’s version of the vision as indicating something similar. Ptolemy emphasizes the presence of remarkably authoritative persons who may have been interpreted as giving their blessing to Paulus, the visionary, for his future task as the first prior of the new Dominican Convent of Salerno (c. 1277-1279).150 In fact, Paulus was prospering in his career at the end of thirteenth century, and the vision may have been connected to these appointments as well. William, who omitted the presence of the archbishops, appears to have made the message more timeless, without any political ramifications. If we return to the painting, as stated, it unites different narratives: besides Paulus de Aquila’s vision, it represents three stars which have acquired the human and recognizable figures of the saints. The figures on each side of Thomas are easy to identify as traditional iconographic presentations of Saint Peter and Saint Paul. They are helping Thomas—or his soul—on its way to Jesus, who seems to be a part of the sun, and who takes Thomas in his arms as a father would a child. The explanation as to why two stars have gained the form of Peter and Paul can be found in another vision, that which Thomas received when he was stuck with a difficult passage of the Scripture and Peter and Paul appeared to help him.151 The visionary who sees the ‘stars’ is not a monk of Fossanova, as William described, nor the hermit Leonardus de Gaeta testified about, but Paulus de Aquila.152 There remains the question of why these two stories are conflated, and especially why Paulus was chosen in the important position of visionary in the fresco. In the Neapolitan context at the end of thirteenth century, for example, the choice of Paulus would have been unsurprising, given his nomination as 148 Historia eccl. XXIII, IX; Ystoria LX. According to Ptolemy, three days after the vision a messenger arrived in Naples to announce Thomas’s death. 149 Delarun, 1991, pp. 194-195. 150 According to Taurisano, Paulus was nominated the prior of the convent of Aquila in 1285, the general preacher in 1291 and then the prior of Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome. Taurisano, 1924a, pp. 123-124. 151 Neapoli XCIII; Ystoria XXXI. 152 Although the man does not wear the most prominent Dominican habit, the black cloak, he has a book with him. This is a common mark of the literate Dominicans, and in this particular case it could be a sign of Paulus’s inquisitorial status. The impression of the inquisitor is verified when one notices the dog, a famous emblem of the Dominicans, close to the man.

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the first Prior of Salerno—or his other nominations—but that was surely a rather distant memory at the Parish Church of Abbruzzo in the early fifteenth century. The history of Paulus is unclear and we can only guess that he was somehow related to the Aquino clan, who were linked by marriage to the counts dell’Aquila at the end of thirteenth century. Alternatively, he may have been connected to Thomas’s cult in Aquila, where it seems to have become established remarkably early.153 Thomas’s nudity in the picture is also a very interesting detail. Much more common is the pictorial depiction of the transitus in which the soul has human form, but is clothed.154 To this category belongs Dominic, whose last breath is described in a very similar way to Thomas’s in the fresco, both in hagiography and iconography. Jordanus of Saxony (d. 1237), who composed the Life of Saint Dominic, describes how a Dominican friar, Guala, a Prior of the convent of Brescia, saw a vision in which Dominic’s soul was taken to heaven by Christ and his mother. Heaven opened and golden ladder (scala aurea) appeared to enable Dominic to ascend.155 Jean de Mailly, a Dominican friar who had included the Life of Saint Dominic in his collection of saints’ lives about ten years later, changed very little of the earlier narration, except that the golden ladder is now two brilliantly white ladders. The narration is detailed and descriptive: The top of the one was being held by the Lord and the other by the Lord’s Mother. Between them, down below, there was a chair with someone sitting in it. This person was like a friar with his face hidden in his capuce, which is the normal way in the Order for dead brethren to be buried. As the Lord and his Mother gradually pulled the two ladders up, the chair was drawn up too, and the person sitting in it, until it reached heaven. Brother Guala woke up and went at once to Bologna, where he discovered that the holy soul of Saint Dominic had left his body on the same day at the very time of his vision.156

The figure of the description represents Dominic’s soul which was taken to heaven. More or less the identical scene is depicted in the fourteenth century altar panel in Pisa. In one scene of the panel we can see Saint Dominic lying 153 On Thomas’s cult in Aquila, see De Bartholomaeis, 1952, pp. 299-300; Paone, 2010, pp. 93-96. 154 Baschet and Bonne, 1998, pp. 195-196. More generally, on the corporeal form of soul, see Bynum, 1995. 155 Jordanus of Saxony, Vita 70. 156 Jean de Mailly, The Life of St. Dominic (c. 1243), p. 59.

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Illustration 3  The Transitus of St Dominic’s soul

on the ground. A pair of ladders is placed on him. The ladders come from heaven where Christ keeps the top of one ladder and Saint Mary the other as two angels guide Dominic’s soul, presented as a minuscule Dominic, up the ladders to heaven.157 In the decorations of books both media were combined, which can be seen for example in links between miniatures, depicting Saint Dominic sitting on ladders, and text concerning the vision.158 There is one more textual model, very important if we wish to understand the painting, and which was not discussed by Baschet and Bonne. This is Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis’s testimony, according to which Raynaldus, Thomas’s socius, gave a sermon after his death. In his sermon Raynaldus declared that when Thomas died, he was still as pure as a fiveyear old child.159 The fresco representation of Thomas’s soul is the child-like figure of Thomas, not just smaller out of respect for the hierarchical order, as Baschet and Bonne suggest.160 As a child-like naked figure, this depicts 157 The altar panel, the Miracles of Saint Dominic (1344-1345), painted by Francesco Traini, originally in the Dominican church of Santa Caterina of Pisa. 158 For example Biblioteca dei Domenicani, Ms. 12. The same theme, the last breath depicted as the transit from earth to heaven by ladders, seems to be adapted for other saints too, as shown in the very similar vision (with a silver ladder) narrated by Thomas of Cantimpré in The Life of Margaret of Ypres 51. 159 Neapoli XLIX; Ystoria LXIII. 160 Baschet and Bonne, 1998, p. 219.

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the very moment of Thomas’s last breath, that is, his death to the world and rebirth into a heavenly life (dies natalis). It appears only natural that Thomas’s body would be depicted nude as a new-born baby would be in this type of allegory. At the same time the nudity directs us to the Gospels and apostles who, according to the original mendicant ideology, followed the poor Christ as poor men (nudus nudum sequi Iesum Christum).161 As regards Thomas’s nudity, it is worth noting that in the frescoes of the church there is a special emphasis on nude bodies; there is a large fresco of the Last Judgement with countless resurrected nude bodies dancing and enjoying Paradise. In this context Thomas’s nudity is not as striking as it would be if it were depicted somewhere else. Nevertheless, as Baschet and Bonne have emphasized, the nudity of the soul in similar transition pictures is fairly rare. The corporeality and the nudity of the spirit in the picture were probably intended to open deeper analogical layers in the Dominican history and spirituality, connected both to early Christianity and to the end of time.162 The tradition regarding Thomas’s last breath connects in an imaginative way the different literary and pictorial narratives common in Christian sainthood. The first visions of the stars were strongly theological and they were probably rooted in a more intellectual tradition. The peculiar fresco presentation combines the different narratives, probably taking its inspiration from several traditions. It was most likely accommodated to the wishes of the commissioners of the frescoes. I interpret the picture in the Chapel of the Aquino family as a proof of the appeal of materiality. It was Thomas’s strong presence, his realistic corporeality, which opened up the routes to wider themes of meditation on Thomas’s life. Moreover Thomas’s life was represented as a continuity of the life of the apostles, and finally, of Christ. Christ is depicted as a part of the sun, and thus as the light of the world; Thomas, who was taken to the light, was perceived to reflect the light of Christ. The theme of Thomas’s birth (dies natalis) is likely to have been an important theme for the descendants of the Saint. The depiction symbolized the corporeal continuum of the family from Saint Thomas Aquinas in a space which was open to the laity under the government of the Aquino clan. The picture is also an allegory of virginity, which may have had a special significance if the commissioning of the frescoes was connected to the matrimony of Francesco d’Aquino and Giovannella Del Borgo as 161 The concept of nudity as an allegorical reference to the religious life in Christ appears to have been familiar in literature. The most famous example is surely Saint Francis: Thomas of Celano, Vita prima VI. 162 On reading of the Dominican iconography, see Russo, 2011 and 2012.

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suggested.163 Although there have been several valuable studies of it, I would emphasize that there is still need for further in-depth study of Thomas’s depiction in the Aquino Chapel and its perception by the Aquino family and their subjects. In the next section, I will continue to examine Thomas’s family, not in Abbruzzo, but at Fossanova, as some of the participants in the narrative scene of Thomas’s funeral.

The funeral In the canonization hearings in Naples only one eye-witness, Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis, gave a statement on the preparation of Thomas’s body after his last breath. Petrus also describes the funeral celebrations, albeit very briefly. In his Ystoria, William of Tocco expanded Petrus’s description, making the story more dramatic and at the same time more hagiographical. When Delarun analysed the deaths of the founding fathers, he did not include the funerals, yet the funeral constituted the final act in someone’s death, and so it was with Thomas, whose funeral was also a significant event in the neighbourhood of Fossanova. As a religious rite it was intended to remain in the memories of laypeople, as something that would influence their piety. The funeral also brings to the fore a new theme to add to those addressed above. The actual corpse appeared in public for the first time as the focus of the monks’ activities and the funeral rite would have made a visual and oral impression on the audience. Although the physical appearance of the body is still not described, the passion that the event aroused was recorded and passed on to influence others and for future generations. According to Aviad Kleinberg, the death was a saint candidate’s last opportunity to influence his or her own image as the saint.164 In my view, Thomas’s image was merely in the hands of the monks of Fossanova and the friars of the Dominican Order. Thus, the last breath and the funerals are both representations formed by the Cistercians and the Dominicans, perhaps with a little spice added by the Aquino clan. The funeral was particularly important for the members of those communities to which the dying person belonged.165 In Thomas’s case, the group who had a responsibility to prepare the body for the funeral were the Cistercians, not the Dominicans, the 163 On the Aquino family in Loreto Aprutino, see Marighetto, 2001, pp. 52-53. On Thomas’s cult in Loreto Aprutino, see d’Isola, 1958. 164 Kleinberg, 1992, pp. 141-142. 165 On funeral culture in medieval Italy: Lansing, 2008.

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brethren of Thomas’s own Order. Despite their duties regarding the dead, which the monks certainly carried out, it is notable that the silence of the Cistercian eye-witnesses continued. Their testimonies on the funeral rite and other preparations remained brief. Only Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis gives us important glimpses of Thomas’s death. The first step in the Cistercian funeral rite after the last breath was the washing of the dead body.166 When the monks were preparing to do this, Petrus explains how they first decided to say farewell to Thomas: they kissed the feet of the dead man in deference to his holiness. When the Sub-Prior of the monastery, Iohannes de Florentino (sic), who had lost his sight, was about to kiss the dead man’s feet, the others suggested to him that ‘he should lay his eyes against the eyes of a saintly man’. Iohannes followed this advice and according to Petrus, he at once fully recovered his sight.167 With this statement Petrus elevates Thomas to a new level: the body is described as an active agent because of the healing miracle, an instrument of God’s will and vehicle for His acts. Although we have not yet seen physical signs of holiness in Thomas’s body, the mark of sainthood was given through the body and materialized in another man, the Sub-Prior of Fossanova. The miracle is typical of the first miracles of new saints. The restoration of sight is commonly understood as a metaphor of spiritual enlightenment. Petrus evidently wanted to show the monks’ incipient devotion towards Thomas. Petrus’s reference to the washing of Thomas’s corpse shows that the monks were treating Thomas as a Cistercian monk. If a visitor died at a Cistercian Monastery, the corpse seems to have been handled in a much simpler way than the corpses of the Cistercian community—for instance, it was left unwashed.168 It is likely that the funeral rites continued as if Thomas had died as a Cistercian monk, although they are barely described in the source material. If this is so, after the washing of the corpse, the Abbot would have sprinkled the body with holy water and incense and recited the pater noster. The corpse would then have been ready to be moved in a solemn procession from the place of death to the church, were the funeral liturgy began. Presumably all the people who had accompanied Thomas on his last journey participated in the procession.169 At the choir of the monks 166 Ecclesiastica officia CXIIII, 21. On formal and ritualized practices towards dying people within the Cistercian world: Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 226-232. 167 Neapoli LI. 168 Ecclesiastica officia CI. 169 A reference to the solemn procession of Thomas’s corpse is in Ystoria LXII; Legenda XL. On the regulation of the Cistercian funeral procession, see Ecclesiastica officia CXIIII, p. 26; Cassidy-Welch, 2001, p. 227.

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in the church, the corpse was lit by candlelight and it was sprinkled with incense at the end of each collect.170 When the body was fully prepared by practices such as washing, oiling, dressing, and incensing, and after an appropriate number of prayers, chants, recites, and so on, it was buried.171 The handling of Thomas’s body according to Cistercian regulations and customs played an important part in modelling the memory of Thomas’s last days in such a way that it would be familiar to Cistercian monks. The use of customary practices had great importance for the introduction and adoption of Thomas’s cult at Fossanova and in the region around. Instead of the funeral proceedings, in the Ystoria William concentrates on the sermons and miracles, to emphasize Thomas’s sanctity. An important element in the funeral description seems to have been a statement that there were a great number of participants in the solemn rite. They naturally included the Cistercian community, but also numerous Dominicans and Franciscans, Bishop Francis of Terracina, Thomas’s relatives and their allies, and a great number of the Campanian nobility.172 Although the description is short, the grandiose solemnity of the event can be imagined. William heightens the atmosphere by narrating two miracles that occurred during the procession. He states that a healthy mule which had brought Thomas to Fossanova died suddenly when it saw Thomas’s corpse, and the same happened to a puppy which had kept watch on the room where Thomas had lain ill. According to William, the animals recognized Thomas’s sanctity and showed what a great loss Thomas’s death was for the Church.173 The story of the mule and the puppy is clearly William’s addition, intended to emphasize the spectacle of sainthood.174 It is nevertheless true that many other late medieval funeral scenes appear to have been greater spectacles than Thomas’.175 Several sources depict funerals crowded with people, some of whom might fall into ecstasy when they felt the presence of a saintly spirit. Often it was difficult to protect the body from the people, who wanted to touch something sacred, or have a 170 Ecclesiastica officia CXIIII; Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 227, 229. 171 On the practices of entombment: Ecclesiastica officia XCVIII. For a detailed overview of the burial customs: Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 228-237. 172 Ystoria LXII; Neapoli LI. 173 Ystoria LXII. See also Gui’s Legenda XL. The passage is very similar, even though not as detailed as Tocco’s. Bernard did not mention the death of the puppy, another ‘last moment addition’ to the final version of the Ystoria. 174 On the mule and its dramatic demise in the later historiography and local tradition: De Rossi, 2013, pp. 125-130. 175 Goodich, 1995, p. 21; Kleinberg, 1992.

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piece of the cloth, or worse, a piece of the body, as a memory of the saint. A good example is the case of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary. According to Gábor Klaniczay, the Libellus de dictis quatuor ancillarum depicts Elizabeth as dying in the odour of sanctity and her funeral was a mass demonstration, with devotees stealing whatever pieces of the body they could reach as relics. Klaniczay states that the explosion of Elizabeth’s cult was prepared by her confessor, Conrad of Marburg, who educated her to become a model of sanctity, a ‘living saint’.176 If this kind of mass demonstration was becoming typical, we have no clue that Thomas’s funeral made any particular impression on people outside clerical circles and his family. The first claims of religious exaltation in connection with Thomas’s funeral appear only at the beginning of the twentieth century in a text of the Dominican scholar Raimondo Diaccini, who states that before the entombment, the people did, indeed, try to cut pieces from Thomas’s clothes because of their devotional zeal for him. Diaccini, does not, however, give any evidence for his claim.177 Thomas’s funeral was evidently not attended by a mass of fanatical devotees assembled to say farewell to his corpse and perhaps also to seize a memento from it. On the other hand, it certainly did not go unnoticed and it was recorded widely in different medieval written documents.178 In the fresco cycle of the Aquino Chapel in Santa Maria in Piano, there is a scene depicting Thomas’s funeral. The picture represents the charged atmosphere of the funeral very clearly. In the fresco, the dead Thomas is in the foreground at the centre of any visitor’s gaze, in the funeral bed. There is an open book, with a passage from the Sacred Scripture probably written in ancient Syrian in his lap.179 At his bedside there is a bishop who is apparently reading the funeral mass from a book. He is helped by another priest and some monks. There also seems to be a cardinal attending the mass. In the forefront of the scene there are two Cistercian monks who have seemingly arrived at the place in a hurry and full of enthusiasm. One of them has a vessel of water which they have used to wash Thomas’s corpse. Both monks gesture strongly. They are clearly talking about the miracle which gave sight back to Sub-prior Iohannis. In addition to these main characters, there are other Cistercian monks, two Dominicans, and two (presumably) laymen attending the rite. Above the crowd of men rise three women, wearing the 176 Klaniczay, 2004, pp. 121-122. Other good examples of living saints would be Marie d’Oignies and Anthony of Padua. See also: Paul, 2002, p. 54. 177 Diaccini, 1934, p. 287. 178 See, for example: Wadding, 1732, p. 411 (Anno Christi 1274, XXXV). 179 Marighetto, 2001, p. 50. The text is a quotation from Acts 14:13.

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Illustration 4a  Thomas’s funeral

Illustration 4b Lamenting women wearing the habits of Dominican nuns

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habits of Dominican nuns. The women show their grief by facial expression and wringing their hands. This fresco scene, like the previous one, is mainly inspired by William of Tocco’s Ystoria. A new element in the composition is the three Dominican nuns. William mentions one laywoman in connection with the funeral rite, Francesca, Thomas’s niece from the Castle of Maenza. According to William, Francesca and some other ladies participated in Thomas’s last moments at the gate of the Monastery, because women could not enter a Cistercian house. Apparently, when the gatekeeper announced the death, Francesca asked that she be allowed to see her uncle and say farewell to him.180 Accordingly, the funeral procession made a detour to allow her to do so. William also tells us that when the women saw the body, ‘they began the funeral lamentation as was the convention’.181 William explains that by this lamentation the women showed their respect towards one who was both a relative and a venerable man. The Frenchman Bernard Gui approaches the description from a different angle and adds that the women’s acting is typical of Italians.182 It is possible that the three lamenting women of the fresco represent Francesca and her companions. But in this case, why do they wear the Dominican habits? I consider the women more of an emblem than a direct representation of Francesca and her companions. A model for the three mourning women clothed in religious habits derives from the Gospel narration of the three women at the tomb of Jesus.183 According to my interpretation, the women represent Thomas’s family, who participated actively in Thomas’s cult and the canonization process. More specifically, the women symbolized the archival memory of the Aquino family, the maintenance of which was customarily reserved for the women in the Middle Ages.184 Teodora, Thomas’s sister and Countess of Sanseverino, was one of the leading figures in Thomas’s early cult.185 William of Tocco dedicates one chapter 180 See also Cassidy-Welch, 2001, p. 229. 181 Ystoria LXII. 182 Legenda 40. 183 Mark 16:1-8; Luke 24:1-10. Carol Lansing has profoundly studied the mourning rite as a part of medieval religiosity and social life. According to her, in the Western tradition three grieving women were included in the scene of Christ’s death and the lamentation became a powerful devotional image: Lansing, 2008, pp. 140-148. The pictorial motif as a part of the liturgy is also noted by Kessler, 2004, p. 161. 184 On the role of women in conserving and transferring the family memory, for example to the younger generation: Geary, 1994b, pp. 51-73. 185 Teodora, for example, procured a hand as a relic from Thomas’s body from the Abbot of Fossanova. The hand presumably had a significant role in promoting Thomas’s cult in Southern Italy: Neapoli XX; Ystoria LXVIII.

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of the Ystoria to praising Teodora’s virtues; for example, she exercised penitential practices—whipping herself with a chain of iron—and performed acts of charity. The chapter ends with praise of Tommaso, Teodora’s son, who was almost as virtuous as his mother. Interestingly, he was entombed wearing a Dominican habit in the Dominican Convent of Naples. Teodora, for her part, was entombed in the Dominican Church of Salerno like her sister Maria before her.186 According to William, when Teodora’s corpse was moved from the first sepulchral site to Salerno, it was found to be uncorrupted and a pleasant scent emanated from it, testifying to her sanctity.187 One more important lady involved in Thomas’s cult was Caterina de Morra, Maria’s daughter. She played a role in preserving the family memory by giving much valuable information to William of Tocco, who collected material about Thomas’s youth for the canonization process.188 Then there was Francesca, also Thomas’s niece and countess of the da Ceccano, the person William mentions as present at Fossanova when Thomas died. According to Ptolemy of Lucca, it was Francesca who decided to send Thomas from Maenza to Fossanova when he became sick. Moreover, Ptolemy suggests that she would have kept Thomas’s corpse to herself: when ‘the [Dominican] brothers wanted to transfer the corpse, the lady did not permit this for love and devotion towards Thomas. With the help of the monks she hid the corpse because she could not have it at that time’.189 It seems probable that Francesca had a clear vision of maintaining a memory of Thomas and embedding his cult at the Monastery, whose patrons were presumably the family da Ceccano.190 Francesca’s plans to place Thomas’s memory in the care of the family Monastery almost certainly proceeded smoothly because the Abbot of the Monastery was Theobaldus da Ceccano, a kinsman of Francesca’s husband.191 186 Maria expressed her wish to be buried in the Dominican Church of Salerno in her final testament. She was apparently a great admirer of the Order. Laypeople, however, could not be interred in the Dominican Church, and Maria’s case was a precedent, for which special permission had been asked of the Church of Salerno (in 1279): Laurent, 1937, pp. 622-624; Portanova, 1977. 187 Ystoria XXXVII. 188 Neapoli LXXVI. 189 Annales (recensio A), Anno Domini XCCLXXIIII (the marking of the year contains an error; it should be MCCLXXIIII): ‘Voluerunt autem fratres eius corpus transferre, sed domina non permisit pro dilectione et devotione, quam ad ipsum gerebat; sicque fecit occultari per monachos, quod usque ad ista tempora habere non potuit’. 190 On familial commemoration and patronage in the Cistercian context, see Jamroziak, 2005, pp. 28-30, 205-207; Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 237-241. In a more general medieval context, see Westerhof, 2008, pp. 64-69. 191 Parziale, 2007, pp. 66-67.

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Why, then, did the three women wear Dominican habit? Their habits have a special impact in the Chapel because Thomas himself does not wear the black cloak which made the Preachers easily recognizable. Accordingly, it seems that in the mural paintings Thomas was not depicted primarily as a Dominican, but the representative of his family. The habit may be a demonstration of the immeasurable help the family gave to the Order for Thomas’s canonization. At the time of the canonization Tommaso di Sanseverino, Teodora’s son, was the real motivator in the process. Tommaso must have helped William of Tocco considerably, as the latter thanks him openly in the Ystoria.192 Tommaso, indeed, had already earned a panegyric, possibly at the end of the thirteenth century when he visited the Dominicans of Florence. He was given a welcome speech and honoured as the son of Friar Thomas’s niece.193 As noted, Teodora died in an odour of sanctity and when Tommaso passed away in the Dominican habit, he too must have approached the same ideal. Thus, in depicting the nuns, the Aquino commissioners of the fresco cycle probably intended to emphasize the holiness of its former—and hence contemporary—members, as well as indicating gratitude to former generations for their assistance in achieving Thomas’s canonization. The religious habit presumably helped visitors to grasp the biblical message behind the pictorial representation and William’s letter, as through the fresco, it was possible to perceive Christ’s death and the three women visiting his tomb; perhaps it was understood in a similar manner to the theme of Crucifixion, which represents the members of the Order who commissioned the painting together with biblical figures at the foot of the cross. Alternatively, the fresco might have been intended as a representation of the saintly history of the Aquino family and their wish for salvation.194 The last fresco of the cycle is also evocative. It depicts Thomas’s corpse at the centre of the scene, held by two monks; one holds him up by the shoulders and other by the ankles. The body is suspended in their hands. Two other men, oblates or servants of the Monastery, are opening or closing the heavy stone lid of the tomb with iron tools. If the titulus once explained the fresco, today the text is unreadable. The composition, however, would suggest William’s story of the hiding of Thomas’s corpse, rather than, as 192 Ystoria XXXVII. A concrete marker of this help was a magnif icent banquet, which he organized one night in Avignon during the canonization festivities, so that the citizens could celebrate Thomas, as was the custom in similar occasions: Laurent, 1937, p. 518. 193 Panella, 1984, p. 267. 194 On the different levels of the interpretation: Russo, 2011.

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Illustration 5  Thomas’s green corpse at Fossanova

proposed by several scholars, the funeral (see the next section).195 The countenance of four men with ugly faces, especially two in the background, is suggestive of their malicious intent. Moreover, there is nothing glorious in this presentation of the body. In contrast to the norm for saints, Thomas’s corpse is green. Its appearance appears to indicate, if not actually to prove, that Thomas was poisoned.196 Thomas’s niece Francesca, together with her husband and other members of the family who had been expelled from their lands on the Kingdom’s frontier with the Papal States, are said to have circulated a rumour suggesting that Charles of Anjou (1226-1285), King of Naples from 1266 to 1285, had poisoned Thomas. The lay tradition at the time of Thomas’s death seems to have held that the physician who came to take care of Thomas at the Castle of Maenza was the King’s collaborator and that he killed Thomas.197 The murder claims were kept alive by such famous Italian writers as Dante Alighieri and Giovanni 195 On the depiction interpreted as Thomas’s burial: Marighetto, 2001, p. 47. Silvia Dell’Orso names the scene as ‘Inumazione del corpo dell’aquinate’: Dell’Orso, 1988, p. 66. 196 On the stories of the poisoning of Thomas, d’Isola, 1958, pp. 153-154. 197 Valle 1637, p. 170.

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Villani.198 Later research has regarded them as unfounded.199 Charles acquired a reputation in many circles for hard-hearted ruthlessness, relentless ambition, and oppressive government even in his own lifetime, the sort of person these accusations would stick to.200 Scholars have seen political disagreements not only between the King and Thomas’s family but also between the King and the above-mentioned writers as the reason for the smear campaign.201 The theme of the scene in which Thomas is dead and appears green is most exceptional. It is also unusual as a final scene of a saint’s life, the theme of which is typically more glorious. As such its message as an analogy, of salvation for example, may have been difficult to perceive. The most likely reason for the selection of this theme for the cycle is personal. At the time of the painting of the Thomas fresco cycle the Lord of Loreto Aprutino was Francesco d’Aquino, Thomas’s distant relative and most likely the fresco cycle commissioner. It appears that he was a supporter of the royal house of Anjou in Naples and received numerous nominations to high positions in the Kingdom.202 For some reason, however, Francesco seems to have become a close partner of King Alfonso of Aragon, an opponent of the Angevins.203 Unearthing the reason for the anti-Angevin propaganda about the poisoning of Thomas may give a clue as to why Francesco abandoned the Angevin kings. Possibly he felt martyred, as Thomas was represented. The fresco cycle includes not only remarkable and varied emphases on Thomas’s life and death, derived from various surviving medieval narrations, but also expresses a part of the family history through Thomas. The three scenes that represent the dead Thomas are impressive, emotional, and at least to some degree, meditative. By the end of the day 7 March, the funeral was over. Thomas’s corpse was buried with respect, in all probability in front of the high altar of the main church.204 Participation in funerals was a common element in the construc198 Giovanni Villani, Nuova cronica, Lib. X, CCXVIII; Dante Alighieri, Divina commedia, Purgatorio, canto XX, v. 69. See also Anonimo Florentino, Commento alla Divina commedia, pp. 324-325. 199 Torrell, 1996. Before him, for example, see Petitot, 1924, p. 328. Many of the earlier historiographers supported the theory on the poisoning: for example Clemente, 1873, pp. 31-32. 200 Abulafia, 1997, pp. 80-81; Dunbabin, 1998, pp. 68-72, 76. 201 Arturo Bianchini explains that the rumours of the murder were based on a long political tradition in which the Aquino and da Ceccano families were allies of the Hohenstaufen: Bianchini, 1974, pp. 6-8. 202 Marighetto, 2001, pp. 52-53; Dell’Orso, 1988, p. 63; Baschet and Bonne, 1998, p. 198. 203 Dell’Orso, 1988, p. 63. 204 Neapoli VIII, X, XV, XLIX, LXXX. Regarding the location, only Petrus de castro Montis SanctiIohannis’s testimony remains vague. According to him, Thomas was simply buried in monasterio supradicto, in the Monastery of Fossanova: see Neapoli XLIX. On the increasing practice of

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tion of a sense of community in the Middle Ages. The memory of the rite probably functioned in the same way: the narrative, it was hoped, would attract a wide range of devotees, who would then participate in the saint’s cult. The presence of all the groups for whom it was hoped Thomas would become an object of devotion and cult was important. The place in front of the high altar was normally reserved for the patrons of the Monastery, whether saintly or not. In this chapter we have seen how the Cistercians took the memory of Thomas’s words, ‘This is my rest for ever and ever’, as the centre piece of their narrative tradition, interpreting it as a testament. In addition, it was important to the monks that they prepared Thomas’s dead body for burial in the Cistercian way. By emphasizing these aspects, the monks of Fossanova signalled Thomas’s status as a Cistercian, and his desire to remain with the Cistercian monks and be treated as a Cistercian monk. The Dominicans emphasized the memory they were able to take, the visions, without placing too much emphasis on the corpse, which they did not possess. Thomas’s family become involved in that part of the monastic death which was the most natural to them, the funeral, which was probably also the part most open to lay participation in general.205 The Cistercians, the Dominicans, and the laity all had their own interpretations and emphases with which to perceive Thomas’s presence, those that were important for their selfunderstanding and their understanding of the cult. The reasons why the physical signs of the body did not become objects of Thomas’s memory in connection to his death will become more evident in the next chapter.

burial in the Cistercian churches in general: Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 218, 232; Jamroziak, 2005, pp. 210-211, and in Fossanova, see Parziale, 2007, p. 48. For some reason, unknown to me, the excavations in Fossanova do not sustain the idea of an increasing number of burials in the church space or the location of Thomas’s tomb in front of the high altar of the Abbey. This statement is based on my discussions with an archaeologist and a historian, Stefano Coccia and Maria Teresa Caciorgna respectively, who have made intensive studies of the history of the Monastery. 205 On aristocratic funerals and monasteries, see Westerhof, 2008, pp. 69-73.

2

The Miraculous Body in Fossanova

In the late thirteenth and early fourteenth-century sources, there circulated several contradictory versions of the events which took place after the funeral at Fossanova. Their diversity reflects the different interests of various people and groups towards Thomas and his remains. In this chapter I shall focus on the questions of memory and practice in which Thomas’s corpse, entombed in Fossanova, had a central role. The chapter covers approximately the years 1274-1350, when the corpse and tomb were at the Monastery. Within these years Thomas’s body was relocated several times and it was also divided into pieces. Through these practices the monks promoted Thomas’s position in the choir of monastic saints on the one hand, while enabling access to the tomb for laypeople on the other. Thomas’s presence at Fossanova also enabled the use of the Saint’s authority in internal matters as well as problems relating to foreign policy. My main purpose is to show how Thomas’s body and individual bones were conserved, exposed, and handled, and how the situations in which they were used were remembered and interpreted by the monks themselves to be a part of Thomas’s cult at Fossanova. At the same time, I examine the possibilities for other people, mainly laity and Dominican friars, to interact with Thomas’s remains, and ask how they perceived the relic cult of Thomas while it was controlled by the Cistercians.

Hidden corpse, revealed sainthood In the canonization hearings of Naples, when the interrogation shifted from Thomas’s death to his posthumous life, the Cistercian eye-witnesses rediscovered their enthusiasm for describing the events at Fossanova. Nicolaus, the Abbot, as well as the monks Nicolaus de Fresolino and Octavianus de Babuco describe the relocation of Thomas’s body as having occurred immediately after the funeral.1 Octavianus dates the transfer precisely describing how Thomas was entombed in front of the high altar of the church of the Monastery. According to him, the corpse lay there only one day. The next night, it was removed by some monks and entombed in the Chapel of Saint Stephen in the same Monastery.2 In other words, Thomas’s 1 2

Neapoli VIII, X, XV. Neapoli XV.

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corpse had hardly been laid to rest in the first tomb when it was again laid out in the open and transferred from the choir of the church to another place. Abbot Nicolaus gives a more extensive testimony on the transfer than Octavianus: After Thomas’s death and after the corpse was entombed in front of the altar of the Monastery, the monks, who were worried that the corpse would be stolen from them, secretly transferred Thomas’s remains from this tomb to a Chapel of the Monastery which is called the Chapel of Saint Stephen.3

The Abbot does not explain why it was thought that the corpse might be stolen. Nicolaus de Fresolino does not give any reason for this fear either, but he does name the person in charge, frater Iacobus de Ferentino, at that time the Prior of Fossanova. He ordered to transfer Thomas’s body from its tomb to the Chapel of Saint Stephen because he feared, as did other monks, that the corpse might otherwise be removed from the Monastery. 4 Thus, according to Nicolaus, it was the Prior who had taken the decision to organize the transfer and hide the body. Interestingly, there were two Cistercian eye-witnesses who did not mention this transfer to the Chapel of Saint Stephen in their depositions. They are the monk Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis, and the converse Nicolaus de Piperno. Nor do they describe the grave in front of the high altar. If we read only their depositions, we would locate Thomas’s first tomb in the Chapel of Saint Stephen, not in front of the high altar of the abbey church.5 Despite the differences on the previous event and the said location of the tomb, all five Cistercian eye-witnesses are completely in agreement on the final outcome of this sequence of events: seven months after Thomas’s death, in the Chapel of Saint Stephen his body was found to emit a pleasant odour and to show an absence of marks of decay.6 Were the fears of theft expressed by the monks of Fossanova reasonable? First of all, it is certainly the case that theft of saints’ relics was regarded as

3 Neapoli VIII: ‘post mortem ipsius, dum corpus ipsius fratris Thome esset sepultum ante altare dicti monasterii, monachi eiusdem monasterii dubitantes, ne corpus ipsum raperetur, ab inde secreto transtulerunt ipsum corpus a dicto sepulcro ad quamdam cappellam que dicitur cappella sancti Stephani eiusdem monasterii’. 4 Neapoli X. 5 Neapoli XIX; LII. 6 Neapoli VIII, X, XV, XX, LII.

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a common occurrence in the Middle Ages.7 The Cistercians do not name the possible malefactors, but there were interested parties who might be regarded as potential thieves of Thomas’s remains. The biggest party were surely the Dominicans. For example, when Pope Innocent V, formerly the Dominican friar Petrus de Tarentasia, was elected in 1276, the Dominicans’ prospects of getting hold of the corpse must have seemed greater.8 Similarly, Thomas’s family, especially Francesca, seem to have been interested in taking control of the body.9 Perhaps the most serious threat, however, came from Thomas’s colleagues in Paris, who wrote a letter to the General Chapter of the Dominican Order, which gathered on May 1274. In the letter, as we have already seen at the beginning of this book, they asked if the University could have Thomas’s corpse to be venerated in Paris: ‘But now we beseech you, out of our gratitude and devout affection towards the memory of so great a cleric, so great a father, so great a master, in your generosity to grant us the bones of him now dead whom we could not recover alive […]’.10 It is significant that the letter was sent to the Dominicans and not to the Cistercians of Fossanova. The perspective of the letter is that not only the writer and his companions but contemporaries in general regarded Thomas first and foremost as a Dominican friar. Because Thomas was a Dominican through and through, his corpse was requested from his brethren and not from the Cistercians, who, however, had the deceased in their monastery. Unfortunately, no response to the petition survives to show how the Dominicans reacted to the letter. The Cistercians’ fears about theft stemmed from their knowledge that parties such as the Faculty of the Arts were eager to get their hands on Thomas’s body. The question of who had the right to Thomas’s body became acute. Canon law had no unequivocal answer. Objects (res sacrae) sacred to the Church might be said to belong to a particular church, but the patron saint (with the relics) was the patron of the church and not vice versa.11 Reading the medieval texts, it appears that according to medieval custom, 7 On the narrative genre of the theft, furtum sacrum, or as Patrick Geary has put it, kidnapping: Geary, 1994a, p. 173, and more profoundly 1990, pp. 108-109 and passim. About thefts and public demands over dead corpses in the Cistercian houses in particular: Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 230-231. A good example of a quarrel over a saint’s body is that over Bernardino di Siena: Bruni, 1999. Another good example is the theft of the saintly dead body of Pietro del Morrone: Bei, 2001. 8 Neapoli LXXX; Annales (recensio A), p. 373; Ystoria LXVI. On the short reign of Pope Innocent V in general terms: Vian, 2000. 9 Annales (recensio A), p. 373. 10 Laurent, 1937. For a longer citation from the letter, see the beginning of the Introduction. 11 Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, p. 329.

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the body of a saint belonged to the place and to the community where the saint died. Behind this belief was a conviction in the saint’s supernatural ability to foresee the moment of his or her death. Since he/she was fully aware of his or her approaching death, the saint could choose the place where he/she wanted to die and leave his or her dust.12 This was the tradition the Cistercians used to their advantage: not only had Thomas chosen Fossanova as his death place, but he had declared his will aloud, as we saw in the previous chapter. Seen in this light, the Cistercian possession of the precious body should have been quite secure, but the declared choice of death place was only one tradition among many. Medieval society also approved of theft when—according to the hagiographical texts—the saint let the theft happen. If a man was able to transfer a body that held supernatural power without dire consequences, it was seen as a sign of the Saint’s own will to be moved to a new place.13 The Cistercians tried to find an answer to the problem and secure the corpse for themselves by using the tradition of hiding and ‘finding’ it. According to Abbot Nicolaus and the monks Nicolaus de Fresolino and Octavianus de Babuco, Thomas’s body was exhumed and transferred to the Chapel of Saint Stephen without any difficulty. According to the Cistercian monks, when they transferred the body, it—or Thomas—was completely passive. There was no manifestation of divine displeasure in the corpse. The monks wanted to emphasize that Thomas had no objection to his transfer. Thomas let the monks take care of him, protect him, and control his remains. A turning point occurred, however, about seven months after the transfer, when Thomas became active. Abbot Nicolaus explains: About seven months [after the transfer], Thomas appeared in a dream to brother Iacobus—this dream was and still is commonly discussed at the Monastery—who was the Prior of the Monastery at the time, and said: ‘Take me back to where I was at first.’ And so it was done, with due solemnity, by the monks of the Monastery.14 12 See the well-attested case of Saint Anthony of Padua in Vita prima di S. Antonio o ‘Assidua’ (c. 1232), II parte; Saint Dominic’s case in Relatio Juridica 8. See also: Vauchez, 1989, p. 433. 13 Heinzelmann, 1979; Geary, 1990, pp. 113-118 and 1994a, pp. 172-174; Canetti, 2001. In narratives, the saint was able to arrange misfortunes for those who tried to move his or her relics against his or her own wish. For example, to become so heavy that it was impossible to move the relic casket by human power was common. 14 Neapoli VIII. ‘Et post spatium quasi septem menses apparuit in sompnis idem frater Thomas fratri Iacobo, tunc prior ipsius monasterii, sicut publice dicebatur in ipso monasterio, et adhuc

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According to the Abbot, the period when Thomas’s body was hidden in the Chapel of Saint Stephen was concluded by this vision. However, only the Abbot mentions the vision as the reason why Thomas’s corpse was returned to its previous place in front of the altar. Nicolaus de Fresolino and Octavianus de Babuco do not explain why the monks removed the corpse from the Chapel in their testimonies. They simply make a statement to the effect that the corpse remained there for seven months after which it was transported back to the previous place.15 Thus there is a discrepancy between their accounts and the Abbot’s, as he had made a point of saying that ‘this dream was and still is commonly discussed at the Monastery’. Their apparent omission is all the more curious as visions were important in medieval culture.16 I suggest that we should understand the vision as a sign of abbatial power, something that was in the Abbot’s interests to mention rather than the monks’. The Abbot meant Thomas’s apparition before the Prior to be interpreted as an important sign of confidence. The Prior was his chosen successor, in a similar position to the successor of a founding father of an Order.17 In 1274, Prior Iacobus did indeed become Abbot after Theobaldus da Ceccano.18 For Abbot Nicolaus, the vision seen by his predecessor was important. It is plausible that all the abbots who followed Iacobus enjoyed added authority at the Monastery as the chosen successors of one who had been visited by Thomas.19 By emphasizing the vision Abbot Nicolaus would thus have underlined his own role as one of them. Abbot Nicolaus’s testimony regarding the transfer, vision, and return of the body has a strong resemblance to many medieval legends of saints’ relics. An emotionally orientated history of relics typically begins with an event that endangers the relics. The community wants to protect its treasure from enemies—for example Saracens, rival communities, or other relic thieves—so it hides the relics during the night. The relics—or better, the saint—do not accept the situation, because this would deny him or her the publicity at a place where the relics would be venerated. According to dicitur, et dixit ei: “Reduc me ad locum pristinum.” Et sic factum est cum sollempnitate debita per monachos dicti monasterii’. 15 Neapoli X. 16 Keskiaho, 2015. 17 On the visions for successors see Chapter I. On the legacy of a founding father and politics inside his order, see Delarun, 1991. 18 Parziale, 2007, pp. 66-67. 19 The spiritual heritage of the power of previous bishops or abbots is widely discussed by scholars: for example Benvenuti Papi, 1988, pp. 127-176. The phenomena can be seen also in the material world: Os, 2000, p. 97. To compare the situation of Fossanova to that of Clairvaux after the death of Malachy, and for Bernard’s activity to establish his cult: Gajewski, 2005.

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the medieval legends, in this kind of situation the saint is often frustrated and appears to someone able to help him or her. With the vision the saint approved the transfer of the relics, sometimes back to the old, but usually to a new place, possibly distant from the original one. By such narratives, relic thefts ( furta sacra) were sanctioned in medieval culture.20 The history of Thomas’s relics is full of similar tales in which Thomas appears to different persons expressing his wish to be in places that accord with the intentions of the writer in question. For example, when his corpse was in the hands of the Count of Fondi, Thomas showed very powerfully in visions where he wanted to be placed.21 During the Saint’s earlier entombment in Fossanova, his own will to be transferred back to the original place was similarly shown in a vision, through which Nicolaus emphasized Thomas’s cultic relationship with the Cistercian monks. Even in those testimonies that do not mention the vision of the Prior, the idea of Thomas’s will to be venerated by the monks is present implicitly: Thomas’s agreement to his placement in front of the high altar, as a figurehead of the congregation under God’s sight, is signalled by a pleasant scent which suddenly filled the air around his body, also a sign familiar from other tales of saintly relics. It may be asked why, if the purpose of the hiding and finding of Thomas’s corpse were to cement its place in Fossanova, Petrus did not testify about the secret transfer.22 As we have already seen, Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis had referred to Thomas’s sanctity in various ways in his testimony.23 Given his other testimony, it seems strange that Petrus 20 On translations and their functions, see Geary, 1990; Golinelli, 2000; Canetti, 2002, pp. 148163. On the function of emotional relic narratives: Rigon, 1995, p. 66; Stelladoro, 2006, p. 81. The saint’s orders in regard to her/his relics given in the dream are a widely discussed topic among medievalists: for example Geary, 1990, pp. 118-124; Canetti, 2001; Keskiaho, 2015, pp. 28-35; Heinzelmann, 1979. For a Cistercian case involving the use of a translation, see Birkett, 2010, pp. 201-250. 21 See Jacquin, 1923; Historia translationis; Alia historia translationis. For my preliminary considerations on the secret transfer and its symbolic value for the Cistercians of Fossanova: Räsänen, 2005. 22 Here I do not discuss the testimony of Nicolaus de Piperno, the converse. Judging by the records of the hearings, his opportunity to give a free testimony seems to have been more limited than others’. On the status of a converse, see Rapetti, 2005, pp. 43-47. Also, on their liminal position as a part of the Cistercian monastic community, see Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 169-175 and passim; Leclercq, 1965. 23 Petrus’s testimony is exceptionally long compared to the others. For example, he tells of several events of Thomas’s life and gives clear importance to the description of Thomas’s afterlife. The testimony is full of details and it is hard to believe that the notary would not write down this particular argument when he seems otherwise to have copied Petrus’s testimony faithfully. See Neapoli XLIX-LIV. The fragment of the hearings in the Vatican archives includes Petrus’s

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did not mention the front of the high altar, one of the most holy places of the church, as the first burial place of Thomas’s corpse. It is equally strange that he did not mention the transfer, which seems to underline the unity between Thomas and the Monastery. Perhaps Petrus viewed the transportation of Thomas’s corpse as inappropriate or irrelevant for his testimony. He probably considered the secret transfer negative, or thought it unwise to repeat the tale of it to the canonization committee—for instance, if he suspected that a night-time transfer of a saint candidate in obscure circumstances would meet disapproval from the papal officials.24 Petrus himself had once been accused of malpractices in front of an inquisition when he was the Abbot of Fossanova. Among other things, he had been charged with having relationships with several women in different villages, with murdering a converse of Fossanova, and with conspiring against the King and the Pope.25 The echoes of these accusations may be heard in his testimony. Fears of misinterpretation or misrepresentation of his evidence were not far-fetched, given the ways in which the Dominicans interpreted the Cistercian story of the secret transportation. At the time of the canonization, the Dominican writers—first William of Tocco and then Bernard Gui—began to emphasize the dishonesty of the Cistercians’ activity. The culmination of this dishonesty was the secret transportation of Thomas’s body. Their accusations were based on the contradictions between the Cistercian testimonies: the Abbot’s testimony gave the impression that the transfer was carried out by the whole community of monks, but William sought to suggest otherwise, using testimony more suitable for the Dominican propaganda. Nicolaus de Fresolino’s testimony, for example, emphasized the role of the Prior, which William represented as a kind of individualism that was itself a symbol of evil. William emphasized the individual’s bad choices, compounding the effect by saying that this person was the Abbot of the Abbey, not the Prior. While the monks attempted to show Thomas’s own will to be moved, which the glorious body revealed surprisingly and without any planning by them, William interprets the whole situation differently. According to him, the Abbot who had first secretly transferred Thomas’s corpse to the Chapel of Saint Stephen received a dream: testimony and I have noticed no particular differences between these two copies either. See ASV, Cam. Ap., Collectorie 434B. 24 The canonization bull expresses these events discreetly: Redemptionem misit V. 25 Ciammaruconi, 2002.

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Thomas appeared and vigorously accused the Abbot of not venerating his corpse enough, stating that the friars of his order were misguided because they did not really know in which place they could venerate him. He threatened him with a curse if he did not return the corpse immediately to its original place. This way, nobody who came to his tomb could be in error.26

Accordingly, William, through Thomas’s voice, accused the Abbot of secretiveness. By hiding the corpse, the Abbot restricted the veneration of Thomas, the interaction between him and his devotees. William also accentuates Thomas’s will to be located in a place that was easy for the friars of the Dominican Order to approach. Summa summarum, according to William, the corpse had been abandoned, unquestionably disrespectful treatment.27 In the pages of the Ystoria, the Abbot seems to have no regrets at all about the unpleasant situation he had put Thomas in. He was, however, afraid of divine revenge and decided to organize again a secret transfer: He got the key of the Chapel from the Reverend Blasius and with two foreign monks and some oblates he entered the Chapel in which the corpse of the Saint Doctor was exhumed. When they opened the grave with iron instruments, long after his exhumation, in which his corpse was placed from his tomb in the church, such a perfume diffused that it seemed there was opened the tomb containing the rest of a man but a coffin full of aromas. The perfume was so strong and it was all around in the air, so that the monks without any other signal came to the direction of Thomas’s corpse.28 26 Ystoria LXVI: ‘De quo cum predictus doctor in sompnis apparens prefato abbati ipsum grauiter arguisset, quia erat suo corpori indebita reuerentia derogatum et quod fratres sui ordinis essent decepti, qui locum in quo ei reuerentiam redderent in ueritate nescirent, comminatus est ei, nisi corpus suum ad priorem locum cito reduceret, in quo nullus qui uisitaturus eius sepulcrum ueniret erraret’. 27 It is worth noting that in William’s and Bernard’s texts the former Dominican tradition, that is Ptolemy of Lucca’s information, according to which it was merely Thomas’s family and Lady Francesca whose calculations caused the choosing of Thomas’s death place and the hiding of the body, has completely disappeared: cf. Annales (recensio A). The same theme, to keep Thomas’s corpse in a secret place—in the bell tower in this time—and separated from devotional as well as liturgical commemoration, is repeated in Historia translationis, pp. 86-87 and passim. With this text, the Dominicans again seem to have emphasized the Cistercian unsuitability to be the guardians of Thomas’s remains. 28 Ystoria LXVI: ‘acceptis predicte capelle clauibus a dompno Blasio, et assumptis duobus monachis extraneis et aliquibus oblatis, accessit ad capellam, in qua corpus sancti doctoris erat humatum. Et patefacto ferreis instrumentis sepulcro post longum tempus a die sue

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This part of William’s text was again close to Nicolaus’s testimony. Typically for hagiography, it emphasized the good odour as an ‘odour of sanctity’.29 The divine source of the perfume is emphasized by describing the special effort required to open the grave. The use of the iron implements tells us that the tomb could not have been opened beforehand, nor were artificial scents applied to the corpse.30 Thus, according to the narrative, everything that appeared in the body was a divine sign. The ambiguities that had already appeared in the Cistercian testimonies when they emphasized the first transfer of the body as a secret act, carried out with the aim of protecting the body, were used by the Dominicans to underline the dishonesty and sacrilegious behaviour of the monks of Fossanova. It seems that the Dominicans used this passage of the transportations of Thomas’s body to propagate their viewpoints widely, thus emphasizing the unsuitability of the Cistercians as guardians of the corpse. The Dominican liturgy for Thomas’s feast day also brought attention to the divine punishment that threatened the Cistercians for their dishonesty when they hid Thomas’s body. The adoption of the passage of divine punishment into the Dominican liturgical canon demonstrates the importance which the Dominicans attached to the matter. The message that the Cistercians had behaved sacrilegiously—and were therefore unfit to be the guardians of the body—could become widely known, at least among the social groups that actively received Dominican pastoral care after Thomas’s canonization. I would argue that both lines of testimony followed by the Cistercians, one involving the transportation of Thomas’s corpse to the new tomb right after the burial, and the other without this, are well thought out choices. It must be remembered that the witnesses were personally present at the funeral and the burial. In addition to their personal presence and memory regarding the events, the narrative of the transfer was established in the Monastery.31 It is probable that during the canonization proceedings and the exhumationis, quo fuerat de ecclesie sepultura translatum, tantus odor de sepultura subito exalauit ut non uideretur patuisse defuncti humani corporis sepultura sed multorum aromatum apotheca. Qui odor tantus fuit et sic per totum monasterium se diffudit quod ad ipsum, nullo alio indicante, diuinitus excitati monachi conuenerunt’. 29 On recent scholarship about the odour of sanctity, see Roch, 2010. 30 Mentioning the use of the iron equipment is common in medieval narration about saints’ graves when it is necessary to emphasize that nobody could not have exchanged the body in question or manipulated it to fake the signs of sanctity. A good example is the case of Saint Dominic in Relatio Juridica 10, 34, 40. 31 Martinus de Pastina, who was not present at the events themselves, testifies, for example, that he was informed about the translation by the teacher of the novices, Blasius. This refers to

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period immediately before it, the debates about the rightful location were increasing. In this situation, old narratives may receive new interpretations or additions by the Cistercian monks. It seems that the monks, however, were not of the same mind as to what was a suitable or advantageous interpretation. They arrived in Naples, presumably in two different groups as the dates of the given testimonies suggest (see Chapter I), and testified according to their personal view. This situation would be exceptional, but, bearing in mind Petrus’s personal history as Abbot of the Monastery, it is possible. The monks, as already mentioned, give an unequivocal testimony on how Thomas’s tomb was opened and the body revealed his sanctity in an unquestionable way, as the uncorrupted flesh emitted a pleasant odour. The good fragrance drew the monks to the place. Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis gives a full description of what happened in the Chapel: […] with the opening of the tomb the air of the Chapel and even the cloister was filled with the fragrance. The clothes in which the corpse was wrapped were intact and undamaged, as was the corpse itself, except for the tip of the nose in which there was a moderate deterioration. And several monks of the Monastery who wanted to be sure whence the redolence flowed approached and placed their nose over his corpse. They noticed that the perfume emanated from the corpse and the clothes. Because the monks felt even greater devotion, the Prior of the Monastery and two other priests dressed in silken vestments and adornments. And thus prepared themselves, they, in procession together with the entire congregation, translated the corpse from its present tomb to another one in front of the previously mentioned altar.32

an actively nourished oral memory which possibly formed a part of the education of newcomers regarding the history and the cultic life of the place: Neapoli XII. 32 Neapoli LII: ‘in apertura ipsius sepulcri tanta manavit inde fragrantia odoris quod replevit totam ipsam cappellam et etiam claustrum; et vestimenta ipsius cum quibus sepultus fuerat adhuc erant sana et integra, et etiam totum corpus ipsius erat integrum et inlesum excepto quod modica ruptura apparebat in puncta nasi eius. Et nonnulli ex monachis dicti monasterii, volentes certiorari unde manabat tantus odor, appropinquaverunt et posuerunt nasum eorum super corpus ipsius et odorantes senserunt in ipso odoratu dictam suavitatem odoris prodire de corpore et vestimentis ipsius, propter quod assumpta maiori devotione per monachos dicti monasterii, prior dicti monasterii et duo alii ministri ex dictis monachis paraverunt se paramentis seu vestimentis sericis, et ipsi sic parati et totus conventus processionaliter transtulerunt ipsum corpus de ipsa sepultura in qua erat ad quamdam sepulturam aliam que est ante altare predictum’.

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The feast began with a procession from the Chapel to the high altar of the abbey church. The atmosphere became increasingly solemn as the monks testified and depicted how all the congregation celebrated the mass dedicated to Thomas as was the custom for the saint confessor, chanting Os iusti meditabitur sapientiam. They thought it was inappropriate to chant the mass of the dead when the body was that of a saintly man.33 A seven-month period was long enough to demonstrate miraculous incorruptibility, and hence sanctity and continuity of life in Christ.34 An uncorrupted body was a great miracle in the Middle Ages. From Late Antiquity onwards, in ecclesiastical as well as lay circles, the corpse was believed to reflect the destiny of the dead person in the afterlife.35 A body would normally show signs of decomposition within a few hours of death. Danielle Westerhof describes how ‘discolouration of tissue occurs, noxious gases and fluids escape from the body, and insects and larvae eventually appear—all very clear that there is no longer inherent control over bodily process’. The saintly body defied these processes, appearing ‘without signs of rigor mortis and sometimes surrounded by a fragrant odour’.36 As if to emphasize this, Bartholomaeus de Capua, the lay-witness, recollects that Thomas’s body was in perfect condition when it was exhumed eight—instead of seven—months after his death, although the soil under the church was very humid.37 The purpose of mentioning the water in the tomb was to emphasize that the corpse could resist even this ultimate test, as the connection between fluids and decomposition was well known.38 Whoever had possessed such a body in earthly life had overcome the mundane processes of degeneration and was revealed as a true follower of Christ, one who was with Him after death. The most remarkable sign of living in Christ was the body, which had triumphed over a biological process, at the time testifying to the possibility of redemption.39 Accordingly, I suggest that the testimonies of the Cistercian monks be given the interpretation that has now become established in medieval research: the sweet redolence, which allured the monks to Thomas’s tomb 33 Neapoli VIII, X, XV, XIX, LII. 34 According to Luigi Canetti, opening the tombs of kings, princes and prelates within one year was a habitual practice in Europe up to the Renaissance. The ritual revealed signs of sanctity or enabled the new entombment of a corpse, often in several places: Canetti, 2002, p. 85. 35 Canetti, 2002, p. 26. 36 Westerhof, 2008, pp. 21, 28. 37 Neapoli LXXX. 38 See, for example, Saint Dominic’s case: Relatio Juridica 15. 39 Bynum, 1995, pp. 220-221 and passim; Canetti, 2002, p. 85; Stelladoro, 2006, 74; Angenendt, 1991.

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in a location unknown to them beforehand, initiates an adventus (or ‘rediscovery’) of the Saint. After the prelude, by a solemn translation, the monks performed a local confirmation of Thomas’s sainthood, in the manner that was common before the papacy monopolized the canonization process. 40 The new burial of Thomas’s glorious body in the front of the high altar, at the focal point of the church, emphasized the position and value the Cistercians gave to their reborn saint and his relics. The memory which apparently existed about the transfer of Thomas’s body to the Chapel of Saint Stephen and the revelation of Thomas’s power in Fossanova was aimed first at the congregation of the Monastery and second at the outside community. To both groups this narration emphasized that it was Thomas’s own will to be transferred, and to be next to the high altar of the abbey church. 41 Thus, the message was directed ‘inside’ the community of Fossanova, signifying that Thomas wanted to be with the monks at the very heart of the Monastery, at its spiritual focal point. With the new placement, we should understand that Thomas took his place among the saints of the Monastery. When the Cistercian witnesses testified about the supernatural signs in Thomas’s physical appearance at the moment they opened the tomb in the Chapel of Saint Stephen, they differentiated him from the earthly patrons and protectors who would also have been entombed in front of the high altar. 42 The idea of the ‘new-born saint’ in front of the high altar makes the motive for the previous placement in the Chapel of Saint Stephen—up to here obscure—significant. If we consider the high altar of Fossanova as the place of Thomas’s first exhumation, it is hard to imagine any other place than the chapter house which would have been better or safer: only the choir monks of the Monastery were allowed to approach the high altar, whereas the conversi and others, for example, were divided from this space by a rood-screen. 43 Today it is not certain where the Chapel of Saint Stephen 40 Vauchez, 1989; Golinelli, 2000, pp. 258-259. For an example of similar methods of proof of sainthood in the Cistercian context in England, see Waltheof in Birkett, 2012, pp. 207-211. On the Cistercian official and unofficial saints: Lenssen, 1939. For analyses of adventus and translation: Canetti, 2002, pp. 152-153 and passim. 41 On a saint’s capability to communicate: Geary, 1990, pp. 108-128 and 1994a, p. 173; Heinzelmann, 1979, pp. 33-42; Sbardella, 2007. 42 On burials in Fossanova: Parziale, 2007, p. 48. On burials in the Cistercian monasteries more generally: Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 218, 232; Jamroziak, 2005, pp. 210-211; Gejewski, 2005; Hall, 2005. 43 On spatial division of Cistercian spaces in general: Lekai, 1977, p. 265; Cassidy-Welch, 2001. The placement of the rood-screen of Fossanova was discovered during the excavations at the beginning of the twenty-first century.

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was at the end of the thirteenth century, which means that it is difficult to say anything about its safety. Giovanni Maria de Rossi situates the Chapel in the wing of the lay brothers, using the depositions of the canonization process and topography of the present Monastery as his evidence. 44 These sources, however, do not suffice to identify the original location of Saint Stephen, which seems to have been changed several times in recent decades. Moreover, if the Chapel was in the place De Rossi suggests and consequently freely frequented by the lay brothers and novices, it would not have been particularly safe. The dedication, however, indicates that the Chapel was important, as Saint Stephen was one of the original patron saints of Fossanova.45 As I see it, the Chapel played an important part in making Thomas meaningful for the Cistercians, as his stay there of seven months ensured that he became blessed among the saints of the Monastery. He was possibly perceived to have gained the approval of the ancient protector-saint Stephen, and during those months at the Chapel and by Stephen’s authority he was elevated to take his place among the saints of the Abbey. 46 The purpose of the narration to those ‘outside’ the monastic community was to convince them that the Cistercians’ ownership of Thomas’s relics was justified at the time of canonization: since Thomas had stated his own will to remain in Fossanova, it would be better not to move him. The message was especially directed at the Dominicans, whose pressure on Fossanova increased as the canonization was drawing closer. After the canonization, the Dominicans responded to the Cistercian claims by presenting the placement of Thomas’s corpse in the Chapel as a failed interaction between the saint and the Cistercians. At the time of the canonization the testimonies and written sources were filled with signs of Thomas’s sanctity, interpreted in as advantageous a light as possible. When we remember the silence of the monks regarding the details of Thomas’s death and his funeral in their abbey, it appears that by 44 De Rossi, 2013, pp. 34-38 and 2002, pp. 96-97. 45 The Monastery appears for the first time in documents under the name of Saint Stephen in the eleventh century. When the Cistercian community settled at the site, they dedicated the Church to Saint Mary and Saint Stephen: Parziale, 2007; Bianchini, 1974, p. 12. 46 In Fossanova, several signs of interweaving of the local memory of Saint Stephen and Saint Thomas possibly refer to the authority Thomas gained from the protomartyr. The material representations of the connections are the chapel aside of the apsis, dedicated to Saint Stephen and Saint Thomas Aquinas, possibly in the eighteenth century, and an altar panel mentioned in an inventory from the end of the eighteenth century: De Rossi, 2013, pp. 96-99. There is also earlier evidence of links between Saint Thomas’s and Saint Stephen’s cults in Fossanova: according to Teodoro Valle, the room where Thomas died became a place of pilgrimage and was visited especially on 7 March and 26 December, the feast day of Saint Stephen: Valle 1637, p. 175.

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being quiet the Cistercians wanted to emphasize the revelation of Thomas’s divinity and the power on his corpse at the tranquillity of the Monastery. The glorious nature of the corpse was revealed again and again through the various translation or elevation acts, but solely among his own people of Fossanova. 47 By doing this, the Cistercians made masterly use of the narrative tradition of translationes and adventus of the relics to emphasize that Thomas’s body belonged at the Monastery and among the community he himself had chosen. As head of the congregation, the Abbot had great responsibility at the canonization hearings. He fulfilled his role perfectly, describing all the events that occurred around Thomas and his corpse and its treatment in Fossanova in a positive light for the Monastery. The Abbot knew full well how important the presence of Thomas as the canonized saint would be to the Monastery, and he was equally aware of the danger of losing the officially canonized relics. The complicated manoeuvres involving Thomas’s body immediately after his death reveal the immense significance and the strong imperative to attach it to the Abbey permanently. As a whole, these rituals were meant to manifest Thomas’s sanctity and the community’s acceptance of his offer to become the patron of their Monastery.

The tomb at the centre of liturgical practices The monks of Fossanova had prepared for a proper liturgical commemoration of the Saint for the first time when they organized a solemn and public translatio in accordance with Cistercian legislation in the Chapel of Saint Stephen in 1274. 48 The following placing of Thomas’s tomb in front of the high altar was the most significant act for the promotion of the cult. The location served to create and consolidate devotion towards a new and non-Cistercian saint. Thomas had belonged to a different Order than the community around him. 49 According to the sources, the tomb remained 47 Luigi Canetti has discussed the processes of recognition of glorious corpses (corpi gloriosi) in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages in depth: Canetti, 2002, pp. 23-75. See Sbardella, 2007, pp. 146-149 and passim; Geary, 1990, pp. 3-5. 48 As Patrick Geary has defined translation, ‘it was normally a solemn, public event, not a covert operation’, Geary, 1990, p. 109. On the Cistercian rites of the commemoration in general, see Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 237-241. 49 On different practices used to experience and reveal a saint candidate’s sanctity among the Cistercians, see Roisin, 1947, pp. 124-137. For the Cistercians as an Order, the adaptation of ‘foreign saints’ was not a problem as such; for example, one of most popular canonized saints

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in front of the high altar during the period 1274-1281/82 and then it was transferred to the apse. In this section I will concentrate on how Thomas’s material presence was exposed by both his remains and his tomb and how other objects or material imprints, architectural settings, liturgy, and other practices were used to enforce the perception of Thomas’s praesentia at the Monastery until the mid-fourteenth century. The location (ante altare magnum) at the presbytery is interesting when one considers the practices of the commemoration and memory of Thomas among the monks. The physical presence of the tomb at the heart of the monks’ area had had a powerful influence on their perception of Thomas. As part of their observance they gathered around the tomb ten times a day,50 which must have increased their devotion towards him. Since he was physically at the centre of the monks’ daily liturgy, Thomas’s views may have been easily assimilated into doctrinal or devotional questions raised by the liturgy. Adriaan Bredero has analysed the similar process of assimilation of doctrine and sanctity in the case of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, the Cistercian ringside saint.51 As a whole, saints were perceived as mediators between heavenly and mundane things, and according to the tradition regarding Thomas, he had an especially powerful image as an interpreter of Scripture to others. The significance of Thomas’s writings and his tomb and the link between them is also clearly attested in the letter of the Faculty of the Arts requesting that Thomas’s body be sent to Paris: ‘He, whose fame among us perpetuates by his writings, may also, by the remembered presence of his tomb in our city, live on forever in the hearts of our successors’.52 The physical presence is intertwined with the intellectual heritage and the combination of the two would model the memory and its survival. The corpse, however, did not remain at the heart of the monks’ area for long, as already mentioned. It was again exhumed and transferred around among the Cistercians in medieval Italy, alongside Bernard of Clairvaux, appears to have been Thomas Becket. He was not Cistercian in origin; he died as the Archbishop of Canterbury. The background to his popularity among the Cistercians was presumably his two-year exile in a French Cistercian abbey, Pontigny: Bredero, 1975, pp. 35-36. 50 On the places of the commemoration and memory, as well as the presence at the deaths at the Cistercian monastery, see Cassidy-Welch, 2001, especially the chapter ‘Sites of Death and Spaces of memory’. 51 Bredero, 1975, pp. 30-31. For more on Saint Bernard’s cult among the Cistercians: Gejewski, 2005. For an interesting study on the connection of Saint Antoninus’s tomb, liturgy, and cult in the fifteenth century Florence, see Cornelison, 2012. 52 Laurent, 1937. See the wider quotation of the letter in the beginning of introduction of this book.

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the beginning of the 1280s. The Abbot at the time, Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis, testified that: After seven years buried in the last grave, when the witness himself had been appointed the Abbot of the Monastery, he organized the exhumation and a new transfer of the corpse to another, a more honourable place, aboveground grave at the left side of the altar. When the sepulchre was opened, the corpse emitted a similar odour as in the first translation. The corpse as well as the vestments were uncorrupted, as it was told on the first occasion when the tomb was opened. Only a part of the tip of the thumb of the right hand was missing. And similarly, as in the first also in the second translation, the monks of the Monastery chanted the mass for the confessor because they considered brother Thomas to be a saint. In that situation it would not have been appropriate to chant Requiem eternam as for a dead man.53

According to Petrus, the corpse again showed miraculous signs, revealing incorruptibility and giving off the sweet odour. The monks responded to these manifestations of sanctity, and honoured Thomas with the mass of a confessor saint and a new tomb. Similar narrations of translations or elevations in which the signs and rituals of preceding translations recurred have been interpreted as renewals or re-emphases of a quiescent cult. I consider Thomas’s case as slightly different, more as common usage involving the transference of the saintly body to the church apsis at an appropriate time than as reflecting a particular need to refresh the cult.54 As there are various, albeit short, remarks about activity around Thomas’s corpse in the sources from the very moment of Thomas’s death, I regard the translation seven years after his death as a step in his veneration. 53 Neapoli LII: ‘De quo quidem sepulcro post annos septem, cum ipse testis esset assumptus in abbatem dicti monasterii, iterato fecit ipsum corpus exumari et transferri in alium locum honorabiliorem: videlicet ad sinistram partem altaris, cum itur ad illud, in sepulcro lapideo super terram. In cuius aperture sepulcri, similis odor emanabat ex ipso corpore, sicut in prima translatione iam dicta; et tam corpus ipsum quam etiam vestimenta sua predicta erant integra et illesa, ut supra in prima apertura predicta, excepto quod deficiebat modicum de puncta policis manus destre. Et tam in dicta prima translatione quam in secunda fuit cantata missa de uno confessore per monachos ipsius monasterii, pro eo quod reputabant ipsum fratrem Thomam sanctum, nec reputabant congruum et bene agere si cantarent missam ”Requiem etemam”, tanquam pro defuncto’. 54 Thomas’s remains were transferred behind the high altar, to the area which was commonly used for relocating saints’ relics in the Middle Ages. See, for example: Lamia, 2002, p. 39; Snoek, 1995, p. 16. In Cîteuax, Saint Bernard and Saint Malachy were translated to the apse, behind the high altar in 1178, 25 years after Bernard’s death: Gejewski, 2005, p. 77.

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With the secret translation as well as the first liturgical one, Thomas’s cult was firmly established among the monks of the Monastery. The devotional relationship between the Saint and the laity was probably more difficult to stabilize. Lay accessibility was not a common model within Cistercian churches.55 This was something that was evidently discussed among the monks, resulting in a steady change in habit.56 I suggest that when Thomas’s cult began to attract pilgrims to the tomb, the needs for arrangements for public access were already understood. Although the transfer of Thomas’s body was influenced by certain medieval customs related to the placing of the saint’s tomb within the church space, the location of the tomb in the presbytery had become problematical (the pilgrimage disturbed the daily service).57 The final impulse to transfer Thomas’s tomb is likely to have come from a newly-elected Abbot, Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis, who most probably exhibited both his new power and his personal devotion through the new sepulchre of Thomas.58 The transfer had many significant results for the devotional life of the Monastery. The new, monumentalized sepulchre was perceived as more suitable for the saint and as such it represented an investment in the future of the Monastery. The translation to a tomb worthier of the saint was always regarded as sending a positive message to him or her from the devotees. The translation created a more profound relationship between the saint and the community which venerated him or her.59 I consider the sepulchre the central element in the memorialization of Thomas, especially in the early stages of his cult. It was important to make Thomas’s presence clear, tangible, and dynamic, and this was achieved with the tomb and the practices connected to it.60 How accurately the tomb at the apse represented Thomas we cannot know, as it was subsequently destroyed. However, a rough impression can be gained of the sepulchre monument from surviving fragmentary information. The reconstruction helps us to understand 55 Birkett, 2010, p. 206. The pilgrimage from outside the Cistercian monasteries was not originally encouraged by the Cistercian communities themselves or the General Chapter because of the potential problems. Cf. Cassidy-Welch, 2001. 56 Birkett, 2010, pp. 202-203; Roisin, 1947, p. 137. 57 For an example of a discussion on how to organize pilgrims’ visits in way that would not unduly disturb the Cistercian monastery, see Birkett, 2010, pp. 206-207. On pilgrimage and other possibly disturbing practices in the medieval church space, see Hayes, 2003, pp. 53-69. 58 Ciammaruconi, 2002. 59 Stelladoro, 2006, p. 80. 60 Luigi Canetti has emphasized the significance of the tomb, the centrality of which was largely constructed on the Roman tradition: Canetti, 2002, p. 85. On the sepulchre construction and memory: Lamia, 2002.

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better the contemporary perception of Thomas’s corpse in thirteenth- and fourteenth-century Fossanova. The sepulchre was most likely carved from white marble, a common if luxury material used in similar contexts in medieval Italy.61 As the testimony of Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis shows, Thomas’s corpse was relocated on the left side of the apse of the church (from the main door). Near the corner of the apse, there is still today a stone plaque on the wall with the Early Modern inscription ‘HIC REQVIEVIT CORPUS DIVI THOME AQVINATIS A. D. 1[?]74’.62 Today the high altar is situated in the centre of the apse, approximately in the place where the medieval altar probably was.63 In practice, the sepulchre remained behind the high altar, which probably resulted in some kind of stand construction, such as a podium, to be seen from the monks’ choir.64 A document dictated by Petrus de Tardo, a Cistercian monk and visitator (a kind of inspector) to Fossanova from Cîteaux, mentions an altar dedicated to Thomas in the mid-fourteenth century. It is probable that the so-called altar was Thomas’s shrine-tomb.65 In practice a saint’s shrine and the sepulchre was often the same thing in the Middle Ages.66 According to the document, this memorial site of Thomas was decorated by precious tablets or slabs, meaning panel paintings or marble reliefs. Interestingly enough, the document describes an ivory casket as containing Thomas’s corpse, which would mean that Thomas’s body was no longer situated in the tomb-sarcophagus to which Abbot Petrus had translated it in the 1280s, but in a smaller and luxurious relic casket, probably of the common type

61 Ystoria LXVI; Legenda XLVI; Valle, 1646, p. 229. 62 Dating of the inscription executed in an old fashioned way is difficult. Giovanni Maria De Rossi dates the inscription to the year 1674 as he argues that the rather worn number is a six. Thus, according to him, the inscription demonstrates the date of its realization and was not memorizing Thomas’s year of death, as usually thought: De Rossi, 2013, pp. 94-96. 63 The medieval altar is the same consecrated by Pope Innocent III in 1208. The documents describing the consecration mention the relics of martyrs above it are discussed in Pagliaroli, 2011a, pp. 137-140. On high altars in the Cistercian churches of Yorkshire, see Cassidy-Welch, 2001; on Cistercian high altars in general, see Kinder, 2002, p. 172. 64 Lamia, 2002, p. 39; Kinder, 2002, p. 172. 65 An Early Modern source also refers to the shrine-tomb construction: Pagliaroli, 2012, p. 280-281. 66 The saint’s shrine and the sepulchre may also have been so similar in appearance that it was difficult to distinguish the construction as a tomb or an altar. For an interesting survey of the tombs and shrines of saints, see Lamia and Valdez del Álamo, 2002. On shrines and cultic practices, see Nilson, 2001.

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Illustration 6 The placement of the tomb-shrine of Thomas Aquinas in the apse of the main church of Fossanova

which was illustrated by reliefs of the saint’s life.67 This reliquary was most likely placed on the top of the tomb/shrine, above the sarcophagus. A similar sepulchre construction is depicted on a medallion which decorates a fragment of a coral with a part of the liturgy for Thomas’s feast day.68 On the medallion there is a sick man at Thomas’s tomb, which consists of a larger sarcophagus with a reliquary on top. A gothic style baldachin with four legs stands over it (Fig. 7). The tomb of the medallion is unlikely to have any real connection to the tomb at Fossanova, but the picture does show a typical way of arranging the sepulchre-shrine so that it would make 67 Jacquin, 1923, p. 292. According to Louis Lekai, the Cistercian reliquaries and shrines were already richly decorated at the end of the thirteenth century: Lekai, 1977, p. 269. A good example from Italy is the reliquary of Saint Galganus: Greens, 2005. On practices to conserve relics within tombs, shrines and altars, see Nilson, 2001. 68 Fondazione Cini, Cas. 32-35, fol. 33; Mariani Canova, 1978, p. 7; Toesca, 1968, p. 17.

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Illustration 7  One of four medallions representing Thomas’s shrine

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an emotionally powerful impact. Thomas’s memorial site was probably imposing in a way that suited the contemporary Cistercian Monastery in Southern Italy. In contrast to the original Cistercian churches, from the thirteenth century onwards the tombs were often richly decorated.69 Thomas’s shrine at Fossanova would have reflected the established liturgical practices and active pilgrimage, conveying more information and creating a much more powerful impression than the tomb itself would do. Alongside the general outline referred to above, an inscription was recorded in the Early Modern period, probably from the medieval marble surface of Thomas’s tomb: Thomas died here that he might became a greater light for the world, and Fossanova its candelabra, the celebrated place created by the burning, unhidden light. Who would deny that this Fossa is Nova.70

The composer of the inscription plays on the name of the Monastery, Fossanova. The name derives from the early days of the place.71 The wordplay is delightful in itself, but the verse has other significant elements too. The spirit of the beginning of the inscription is the same as that of the sermon which King Robert gave in Avignon during the festivities for Thomas’s canonization (Ille erat lucerna ardens et lucens). The sermon emphasizes Thomas as a bearer of light which enlightens the world. From the King’s sermon, or perhaps earlier, the metaphor was transmitted to Thomas’s legends.72 The inscription of the tomb points to Fossanova as an undeniable new fount of light, the place where Thomas’s sanctity shone. It seems to claim that Thomas belonged to the Monastery, the place which he, according to the verses, re-founded when he died there. It seems clear that the Abbey of Fossanova was a proud carrier of Thomas’s legacy.

69 Lekai, 1977, p. 269. 70 ‘Occidit hic Thomas, lux ut foret amplior orbi / Et candelabrum sic Nova Fossa foret / Editus ardenti locus est, non fossa lucerna / Hanc igitur Fossam quis neget esse Novam?’: Ughelli, 1717, p. 1297. The original Italia sacra by Ughelli was published in Rome in 1642-1648. The edition I have used is that enlarged and updated by Nicola Coleti in 1717. 71 Stefano Pagliaroli emphasizes that the name originated at least as early as 1089, when it appeared in a document: Pagliaroli, 2011b, pp. 13-14. The name is often wrongly connected to the Cistercian monks who are first supposed to have drained the swampy land, perhaps by digging a large channel or trench ( fosso). 72 For example, see Legenda V. The words derive from John 5:35.

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There is still one more source that demonstrates the importance of the visibility and monumentality of Thomas’s tomb. On the wall, above the inscription ‘HIC REQVIEVIT CORPUS […]’, there are fragments of a large painting. Although the colours of the fresco have vanished, the figure is clear: it depicts Saint Thomas holding a monstrance73 in one hand and a book in the other (see Fig. 6). The subject of Thomas presenting the monstrance is not common in medieval iconography. The most common attributes are an open book in the lap or hand and a shining gem or sun on the breast.74 The date of the painting is unclear: recently Emma Mola Caniglia has attributed it to Pietro Coleberti, who was active in the area at the beginning of the fifteenth century.75 Mola Caniglia’s reasoning is not particularly convincing, as she uses only the stylistic features to analyse the damaged fresco and badly confuses the historical background connected to Thomas.76 To my mind, the historical context should be better taken into account, and used to identify possible situations in which the monks were likely to have executed the painting. An appropriate time to realize the painting of Thomas on this wall would have been after Thomas’s tomb was transferred there (c. 1281), or at some point afterwards when there was a need to create more tangible presence of the saint in the apsis. Taking into account the style of the painting, it seems probable that a fresco of Thomas would have been executed either when the Saint’s relics still remained at the Monastery, or soon after their removal: in the latter case the fresco would have made Thomas’s presence more tangible together with the empty sarcophagus.77 Aliénor Cambournac has studied the iconography of Thomas Aquinas in the years 1567-1700, and claims that the theme Thomas with the chalice or monstrance appeared in Thomas’s iconography only after the Council of Trent.78 However, besides that in Fossanova, other representations of the theme from the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries have survived as well.79 The theme, Thomas with 73 The monstrance is the vessel used to display the consecrated Eucharistic Host. 74 The prototype of Thomas’s iconography is often seen as Simone Martini’s panel painting from the year 1319 (originally in Santa Caterina of Pisa, now in Museo nazionale di Pisa, San Matteo): for example, Cambournac, 2009, pp. 23-24. Chiara Mercuri lists other quite typical iconographical themes connectable to Thomas: Mercuri, 2003, pp. 199. 75 Mola Caniglia, 2003, p. 202. On Coleberti, see Cavallaro, 1999. 76 Mola Caniglia, 2003, p. 202. Also Angelini, 1998, pp. 206, 426; Serafini, 1924. 77 On the sarcophagus and other representative relics at Fossanova, see De Rossi, 2013, pp. 6671. Unfortunately, De Rossi’s argumentation lacks clarity and it is diff icult to say on which grounds he basis his justification; the sarcophagus is one of these cases. 78 Cambournac, 2009, p. 28. 79 I have found several other representations in which Thomas Aquinas is depicted with the monstrance especially from the Book of Hours. Examples of the panel paintings are in the Royal

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a monstrance, refers to Thomas’s own activity, studying and writing about the Eucharist. A connection between Thomas and Eucharistic writings was a popular theme, especially in fifteenth-century iconography. At that time, the theme was normally represented by Thomas praying in front of a crucifix, often with an open book or books by his side. This iconography derives from Thomas’s Ystoria, which says that he asked for approval from God for his writings on the Eucharist.80 In Fossanova, the theme of the Eucharist had very special meanings. The Eucharistic mystery had been an important aspect of Cistercian spirituality from the twelfth century onwards.81 The Cistercian Order, like the Dominican Order, began to promote the Corpus Christi feast strongly after the year 1317, when Pope John XXII re-established it.82 At the beginning of the fourteenth century, Thomas was widely praised as a composer of a new liturgy for the Corpus Christi feast at the request of Pope Urban IV.83 Bernard of Clairvaux, for his part, had shown his special devotion towards Christ in his Sermons on the Song of Songs, and later a rich iconography on him embracing Christ’s crucified body became popular.84 Thomas Aquinas was tightly linked to the Cistercian devotional tradition, as I have already indicated: by the words regarding the eternal dwelling place, cultivated in abundance in the Cistercian culture, the monks appear to have signalled Monastery of Saint Thomas, Ávila, Spain (c. 1482), and other so-called triptych of three Thomases in Wismar (c. 1500). On the triptych, see Albrecht and Albrecht, 1998, pp. 63-72. Moreover, it is probable that some medieval paintings on Thomas with the monstrance, are lost: one interesting example is the central panel of so-called Arte della Lana altarpiece from Siena by Sassetti from the beginning of the fifteenth century. In addition, Vincenzo Perrotta describes a panel painting on Thomas with the monstrance from the fourteenth century in the Chapel of San Domenico Maggiore in Naples: Perrotta, 1828, pp. 135-136. 80 Ystoria XXXIV, LII. 81 Roisin, 1947, pp. 108-112; Birkett, 2010, pp. 260-268. See also Morin, 1910, pp. 236-246. The importance may be echoed in the canonization testimonies of the monks, in which the Eucharist took a central place when they described how Thomas prepared for his death: Neapoli XLIX, LXXX. On the fama, see Neapoli XXVII, XXXV. 82 Statuta capitulorum generalium ordinis cisterciensis, for example the years 1317 and 1318. On the activity of the Pope, see Rubin, 1996, pp. 176-180; Walters, Corrigan, and Ricketts, 2006, pp. 25-36. 83 The Corpus Christi festivities are mentioned for the first time in the Dominican Acts in 1304. In 1318, the General Chapter gave orders and advice on how to celebrate the feast of Corpus Christi in Dominican houses. However, it was only in 1322 that the liturgy of Corpus Christi was attributed to Thomas: Acta capitulorum generalium, pp. 3, 109, and 138. On Thomas’s authorship: Historia eccl. XXII, XXIV. There are Dominican breviaries from the fourteenth century, which emphasize Thomas’s authorship in the rubrics of the Corpus Christi liturgy, for example BAV, Barb. lat. 400. 84 Muir, 2012, pp. 91-115.

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Thomas’s imitatio Christi in the Bernardine spirit. The mural painting of Fossanova connects Thomas directly to his knowledge of Christ’s body and his Eucharistic writings, both important to the Cistercian monks. Indeed, I suggest that the fresco representing Thomas was a personification of the knowledge of the Eucharist, an allegory of imitatio Christi. As Thomas was materially present in the presbytery, in the vicinity of the high altar, the monks were able to perceive Thomas together with the Eucharist and understand the true presence of Christ through him.85 Essentially, when Thomas’s status among the circle of the saints of the Monastery was confirmed, his memory was connected in one way or other to the daily as well as the annual liturgical rhythm of Fossanova. The liturgy and ritual acts were important to maintain Thomas’s memory and presence at the Monastery.86 The unique reference to Thomas’s daily memory comes from Petrus de Tardo’s document. Although a late source as evidence of Thomas’s position in Cistercian houses, led by Fossanova, and their sphere of interest, it is very important. Thomas’s primary position among the saints of the Cistercian houses of the region is mirrored by the reference to everyday life and liturgy at the Cistercian Monastery of Santo Spirito di Zannone, not far away from Fossanova. The document tells us that Thomas’s memory was a part of the daily office, in the services of vespers and lauds.87 Santo Spirito was possibly, or had been, Fossanova’s daughter house. In that case it would have followed the liturgy of its mother house, thus providing direct evidence that Fossanova had similar routines.88 As tempting as it would be to take Petrus’s statements at state value, some caution is necessary, as the document was produced to authenticate a relic donation and it contains hagiographical elements designed to emphasize the importance of a finger given as a relic-gift. Nevertheless, bearing in mind the picture of Thomas’s cult at Fossanova that we have so far studied, it is more than likely that Thomas was included in the daily liturgy of Fossanova. His inclusion in the litanies would have had a remarkable effect on the interaction between him, the saint, and the monks at the Abbey Church of Fossanova. The first reference to the annual celebration of Thomas’s feast day comes from the testimony of Manuel de Piperno, a converse monk of Fossanova, at the hearings in 1321. He testifies that his arm was paralysed and he had promised 85 The monks break bread only on Sundays and feast days, the celebrants of the mass every day: Kinder, 2002, p. 175. 86 On the role of liturgy and ritual for remembering, see Geary, 1999, pp. 684-689. 87 Jacquin, 1923, p. 293. 88 Viola, 2003.

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a donation worth ‘XX solidorum’ every year on Thomas’s feast day to the Monastery if the arm would be cured.89 The miracle did indeed occur, in 1317 according to Manuel. It is plausible that the annual feast had been celebrated long before that, possibly even since the first solemn translation. After the canonization, if not before, the feast day was written down in the calendar of the Abbey. Luckily, there exists a direct remark on this in a martyrology from the twelfth century. The martyrology is supposedly a unique example of what was once a wide collection of medieval manuscripts and documents from Fossanova.90 In the martyrology, in the margin opposite 7 March, the day of the martyr Saints Perpetua and Felicitas, there is a later addition from the beginning of fourteenth century. The addition says: ‘Item monasterio / noue: deposi / sancti thome de / aquino confesso / et doctor / clarissim /’.91 Unfortunately, the edge of the folio was cut off, probably when the codex was rebound in the Early Modern period, and the remainder of the added lines have disappeared. However, from the surviving words it is possible to reconstruct the whole phrase as follows: ‘At the Monastery of Fossanova there was buried Saint Thomas Aquinas, the confessor and the most illustrious Doctor’.92 On the basis of the terminology (sanctus, confessor), it seems that the addition was made after the canonization. The addition to the martyrology of Fossanova is an important record of the Cistercian community’s wish that Thomas achieve permanent memorialization there.93 Thomas’s feast day was most likely celebrated with all possible solemnity at Fossanova. Unfortunately, information regarding the practices is rather limited, as the martyrology is the sole surviving notice of the feast day. It is worth noting that in 1329, the Cistercian General Chapter gave instructions that Thomas’s feast be adopted in the liturgy of the whole Order with twelve lections: This is what the General Chapter orders, establishes, and defines, that for the Blessed Thomas Aquinas from the Order of Preachers, who through the sanctity of his life and conversion decorated the firmament of the 89 Fossanova IX. 90 Little of the medieval archives and library of Fossanova remains: Viti, 1981. The manuscript in question is BAV, Ottob. lat. 176, traditionally connected to the Abbey of Fossanova. 91 BAV, Ottob. lat. 176, fol. 15r. 92 There is another Cistercian martyrology in the Vatican Library, Ottob. lat. 575, where the same kind of text is better conserved, fol. 15v: ‘In campanie monasterii fosse noue deposicio beati thome de aquino viri preclarissime virtutis et santitatis’. 93 On the importance of including saints’ feasts in the martyrology or calendar, see Lemaitre, 2005, pp. 57-77.

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militant Church and who, through his writings and beneficial teaching shone, in many ways as its brightest star, on 7 March a feast with twelve lections should be given, just as for the blessed Dominic, throughout the whole Order. Because the friars of Preachers asked for some relics of his most holy corpse, which is entombed among our Order, and their increasing venerations distributed with perseverance, the General Chapter enjoying favour granted to them an arm from elbow to hand, commanded to be indulgently submitted.94

This decree is interesting and important in many ways. It shows the respect of the Cistercian Order towards the Doctor, who had dedicated his life to the service of the Church through his intellectual work, and also the Cistercian veneration of Thomas who, by twelve lections, was elevated to the highest category of the saints’ feasts of the Cistercian Order.95 The quotation shows that the General Chapter considered Thomas the person and saint as a ‘foreigner’, a member of the Dominican Order, but his body as belonging to the Cistercian house where it was devoutly venerated. Without doubt, Fossanova was proud of its treasure and tried to follow the decree given by the Chapter verbatim. In Fossanova, the celebrations of the feast day took place in different locations, such as the high altar, presbytery, monks’ choir, chapter house, refectory, and cloister, following the Cistercian regulation of saints’ feasts. The most important part of the feast liturgy occurred in the church and especially at the high altar. Thomas’s tomb-shrine next to the high altar necessarily had some role in the festivities. On that day, it most likely had some special decoration—at least extra light. The high altar may have been decorated with some special vessels, a reliquary containing Thomas’s 94 Statuta capitulorum generalium ordinis cisterciensis, 385: ‘hinc est quod generale Capitulum ordinat et statuit et diffinit, quod de beato Thoma de Aquino Ordinis Praedicatorum, qui vitae et conversationis sanctimonia firmamentum militantis Ecclesiae decoravit, et suis scriptis et salutaribus documentis multipliciter, et stella lucidissima, praelustravit, septimo die mensis martii f iat festum duodecim lectionum, sicut de beato domenico, per ordinem universum, et quoniam fratres dicti Ordinis aliquas reliquias suo corpore sacratissimo, quod existit in nostro Ordine tumulatum, petunt ad eiusdem venerationis augmentum sibi cum instantia elargiri, generale Capitulum eisdem gratiose annuens brachium a cubito usque ad manum duxit favorabiliter concedendum’. 95 The order seems to have been respected, as there are several extant Cistercian calendars with directions on the ranking of the feast. For example, in a Cistercian missal, there is an addition in the calendar on 7 March: ‘Thomas de aquino, confessoris, xij lectione m. ij’, see BAV, Vat. lat. 6378, fol. 5v. See also a Cistercian breviary with an early addition of a prayer for Thomas’s feast day, see BAV, Barb. lat. 625, fol. 227. Cf. Lenssen, 1939, on Cistercian liturgy for saints.

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bodily relics, or his picture.96 There are several signs that Thomas’s body was divided into relics and that single relics were used in different situations (see especially the two following sections). If Thomas’s corpse was enclosed in the ivory reliquary casket described above, it may have been transported in the feast day procession and placed on the high altar for the offices and mass of the day.97 In the choir of Fossanova, the twelve lections on which the General Chapter gave the order were read during the matins, grouped in f irst, second, and third nocturns. Between the lections, responsories were sung.98 There is Benedictine and Franciscan manuscript evidence on Thomas’s lections, but unfortunately I have been unable to f ind them among the Cistercian manuscripts.99 Nevertheless, the text of a Cistercian missal for the mass of Thomas’s feast day has survived, most likely originating from northern Italy.100 Those parts of the lyrics of the mass which refer directly to Thomas are based on late medieval Dominican missals, and a similar mass was probably chanted at Fossanova. It is, however, good to notice that the references to Thomas are on a rather general level. For example, the prayer after the communion says: ‘As the Eucharist enriches us, likewise the glorious virtues of Saint Thomas, your confessors, will be sustained to increase inner and external acts in the right way’.101 The sentence may have been experienced in a particular way in the space where the blood and flesh of Christ were present in the vicinity of Thomas’s tomb. In addition to uttering the words with the Eucharist, through the large fresco Thomas with the monstrance, the moment of the communion became particular; it was Thomas himself who, by his exceptionally tangible presence, offered the Eucharistic meal to eat, to perceive, and to meditate on.

96 According to the regulation, there had to be two lit candles on the high altar on saints’ feast days: Ecclesiastica officia LIII, LXVII. From Fossanova, only a few liturgical objects survive, and nothing specifically connected to Thomas’s medieval cult. See Angelini, 1998, p. 205. 97 Cf. Belting, 1996 (1990), p. 380. 98 Twelfth-century statutes, pp. 33-35. 99 After the canonization Thomas’s lections seem to have been included in the liturgical books of Montecassino, its dependants and the Neapolitan Franciscans: Montecassino, Ms. 466 (Benedictine ms); BNN, Cod.VIII.AA.7 (Benedictine ms.); BAV, Vat. lat. 12981 (Franciscan ms.). These lections follow the Dominican ones, although rather freely. 100 BAV, Vat. lat. 6378. 101 BAV, Vat. lat. 6378, fol. 4v: ‘Haec nos quis divine communio sacra letif icat, quam beati Thome confexoris tui suffragiis virtutibus roboretur interius et actus exterius pie operationis excrescat’.

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Of the cultic context in which Thomas’s presence was created and perceived, we know very little. The ancient patron saints of the Monastery were Saint Mary and Saint Stephen, both of whom undoubtedly had an important role in its devotional life.102 There are no records or remains of saints’ relics or tombs that could tell us about the special position of other saints in the Monastery.103 On the other hand, the martyrology of Fossanova does indicate that numerous ancient and contemporary saints had a special memory at the Monastery.104 Adopting their feast days, however, was against the regulations of the original Cistercian calendar, but Fossanova was definitely not a special case in the Order.105 The Order rapidly introduced a number of the lowest category of feasts, commemoration of saints, to the calendar. As the new feasts were introduced, the older ones increased in importance.106 A good example of this development is the feast day for Felicitas and Perpetua on 7 March in Fossanova. That feast day was included in the Roman martyrology but not in the primitive Cistercian calendar.107 The martyrology of Fossanova includes Felicitas and Perpetua, as well as Thomas, whose feast day was 7 March. The recognition given to Thomas among the Cistercians is remarkable, albeit not unique. As already mentioned, in the early days of the Cistercian Order a feast with twelve lections was a rarity. In the later Cistercian manuscripts there are Saint Dominic and Saint Peter Martyr from the Dominican saints, as well as Saint Francis and Saint Bernardino of Siena from the Franciscan Order, who are occasionally in the highest category, but their ranking also varies considerably. Thomas is either in the highest category, or not included in the liturgy at all. For example, in a calendar of a Cistercian breviary from fifteenth-century Perugia, Saints Dominic and Francis both have twelve lections, but Peter has no ranking. These three are, however, included in the original calendar, whereas Thomas is a later

102 The original Cistercian liturgy pursued simplicity; even the first saints of the order were introduced into the calendar officially in the Early Modern period, except Saint Bernard who was celebrated for the first time in 1174, a year after his canonization: Lekai, 1977, p. 255. 103 There presumably were relics of martyrs under the high altar but no names of them have survived in the documents: Pagliaroli, 2011a, pp. 137-140; Magnoni Valenti, 1772, p. 45. 104 Unfortunately, an extensive part of the additions to the manuscript remains an unsolved problem because part of the margins has been cut off. The additions of saints’ dies natalis are from the twelfth to the seventeenth century, evidence of the long-term active use of the book. 105 Originally, the Cistercians tried to reduce the number of the saints’ feasts to make the daily liturgy simpler: Waddell, 2007, pp. 60-61, 89-102, and passim; Lekai, 1977, pp. 248-256. 106 Lekai, 1977, p. 255; Waddell, 2007, pp. 60-61. 107 Waddell, 2007, p. 91.

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addition with twelve lections.108 The primitive Cistercian breviary from Berlin State Library does not include Dominic or Peter in its later additions. Saint Francis was added, but with only nine lections.109 Although the ranking of Thomas and other mendicant saints is more or less equal, one specific detail in the martyrology of Fossanova indicates that Thomas had a special position among the Cistercians, namely a particularly detailed description of the location of Thomas’s resting place (Item monasterio fosse noue: deposicio sancti thome de aquino confessoris et doctoris clarissime).110 The impression is reinforced by notices from other houses: for example, a thirteenth-century chapter house book from the Monastery of Santa Maria di Matina, Calabria, has an addition: ‘In Campania, at the Monastery of Fossanova, there is the resting place of Saint Thomas Aquinas, a man of the most exceptional virtue and sanctity’111 Another Italian Cistercian chapter house book has an almost illegible addition in the margin of the day of Perpetua and Felicitas, and it also emphasizes the location of Fossanova in Campania. In the same manuscripts the other mendicant saints, as well as other saints or deceased abbots or bishops, are not listed with such specific locations, but only with the town or the Monastery. For example, the martyrology of Fossanova includes Saint Dominic, ‘ciuitate bono – deposicio – sancti Dominici confessoris’, and Saint Peter Martyr, ‘Mediolano in passio Petri martiris’. There are two more easily recognizable saints: Saint Louis, King of France, ‘. sancti Ludovici – Francie’, and Saint Francis of Assisi, ‘apud Assium deposici sancti Francisci confessoris’. The chapter house book from Santa Maria di Matina lists the saints and other important persons in the following way: Saint Peter Martyr, ‘Mediolano deposicio sancti Petri Martiri’; Saint Dominic, ‘Ciuitate bononie deposicio sancti Dominici confessoris’; and a certain Abbot John, ‘Obiit bone memorie abbatis Joh – monasterii Casemarij’.112 As we can see, the ‘memorial writing’ for Thomas is more extensive and detailed than the other inscriptions. In a variety of contexts in the Middle Ages, 108 BAV, Vat. lat. 6244, fols. 31v-37r. Salmon locates the manuscript in the Monastery of San Fiorenzo of Perugia and dates it to the f ifteenth century: see Salmon, 1968. It can probably be dated to the period before 1445, when the Servite Order took it into their possession. The manuscript powerfully emphasizes the cult of San Galgano, a Cistercian saint who died in the Monastery of San Galgano in Tuscany, not far from Perugia. 109 Waddell, 2007, p. 98. 110 BAV, Ottob. lat. 176, fol. 15r. 111 BAV, Ottob. lat. 575, fol. 15v. ‘In campanie monasterii fosse noue deposicio beati thome de aquino viri preclarissime virtutis et sanctitatis’. On the manuscript, see Salmon, 1968. 112 BAV, Ottob. lat. 575, fols. 34r, 69v, 105r.

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more precise information on geographical and community locations was attached to persons as a method of distinguishing them from others: it is therefore likely that the strong emphasis on the location of Thomas’s tomb reflects the importance that possession of Thomas’s body and his tomb had for the Cistercians. Although it is difficult to get a representative picture of Thomas’s annual feast and its liturgy, as well as its importance relative to other feasts, there are clues to Thomas’s status in the Abbey of Fossanova. Thomas with the monstrance is not the only mural painting of Thomas at the Monastery, as there is one from the fourteenth century in the lunette above the door of the refectory depicting him together with Saint Anthony the hermit and Saint Mary (see Fig. 8).113 Nowadays, this painting is only a shadow of its former beauty and quality, but it nevertheless reveals the importance of Thomas next to Mary. The composition is interesting as Saint Mary is the original patron saint of the Abbey and Anthony the Hermit was an important model for the original Cistercian spirituality. The painting appears to present Thomas in an elevated position as the model and protector of the community of monks at Fossanova. It has been noted that apart from the fresco of Saint Thomas, Saint Anthony, and Saint Mary, few fragments of other representational art survive from the medieval Monastery.114 Assuming that these remaining examples are representative of the original corpus of frescoes, the Thomas, Anthony, and Mary painting suggests that Thomas had a primary position among the saints of Fossanova. As already indicated, the grave was a constant visible and attainable reminder of Thomas. The location of the grave, its size, the materials it was constructed from, and its design represented its incumbent. The grave sustained the memory of the dead man or woman, telling who the dead person was and who he or she would be in the future. The task of the monastic congregation, to keep the saint’s memory alive during the liturgical year, was considered very important in the Middle Ages. The importance of the person’s memory was powerfully present, for example, in the abovementioned case of Santo Spirito in Zannone, where the monks considered 113 Mola Caniglia, 2003, p. 202. 114 Pictures of the Virgin and the child, angels and possibly prophets are known from the thirteenth-century cloister. In the abbey church today only a few frescoes or fresco-fragments remain, Thomas with the monstrance being unique in the apsis. On the decoration and architecture of Fossanova, see De Rossi, 2002, pp. 46-48, 53; Parziale, 2007, pp. 73-91. According to the original rules of the Order, the Cistercian church had to remain austere, without pictorial decoration. Despite the legislation, decorative wall-paintings covered the walls of monasteries. A good example is Valvisciolo near Sermoneta: Mihályi, 1999.

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Illustration 8 The lunette above the door of the refectory depicting St Thomas Aquinas, the Virgin Mary and child and St Anthony the Hermit

removing mention of Thomas from the vesper and laudes. According to the letter of Petrus de Tardo, Thomas appeared immediately to the Abbot and forbade the community from doing this.115 In Fossanova, Thomas was also present daily through other media, in iconography and thaumaturgic works. In addition to the quotidian memory, the union between the place, tomb, and monastic congregation reached its culmination annually on the day when the Monastery celebrated the anniversary of Thomas’s death. The annual feast was important, as it was a solemn renewal of the relationship between the Saint and the congregation. Although the existing sources for Thomas’s memory in Fossanova are rather fragmentary, they attest to the Saint’s great importance and the importance the Cistercians attached to their task as the guardians of Thomas’s remains from the end of the thirteenth far into the fourteenth century and beyond. The quarrel between the monks and the Dominican friars over the body may have continued at Fossanova, but the Cistercian hierarchy considered its control of Thomas’s relics as well-established and secure.

115 Jacquin, 1923, p. 293.

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‘Blessed Thomas, the saint corpse, release me from this fever’ According to the canonization material, a stream of people began to arrive at Thomas’s tomb soon after the funeral. For example, Petrus Branchatius— a Neapolitan nobleman—testifies in Naples in 1319 to the origin of the pilgrimage to Fossanova: ‘he had heard that after Thomas’s death there were many who arrived in Fossanova where Friar Thomas’s corpse lay, that God had done and still performed many miracles due to Thomas’s merits’.116 The King’s Chamberlain, Batholomaeus de Capua, admits that he had been a regular visitor at Thomas’s tomb from the time when Thomas died there, as he travelled between Naples and Rome on the King’s business. 117 In the Ystoria, William of Tocco gives the impression that Dominican friars constantly visited Fossanova to pray at Thomas’s tomb.118 The testimonies of the hearings tell us that in addition to the visitors, Cistercian monks and other inhabitants of the Monastery crowded round the tomb whenever they needed saintly intervention.119 Despite the evidence of the above, it is often claimed that Thomas’s cult flourished only during the period of the canonization. Possibly because of these claims, Thomas’s tomb as a pilgrimage place and healing centre has received only minor attention in research. Angelo Walz, a Dominican historian, attaches great importance to the tomb as a pilgrimage place but only as a consequence of the opening of the canonization process in 1317. According to Walz, the moment inspired the people of Lazio and Campania to flock to Thomas’s tomb, asking for cures and help for various problems, or bringing gifts after a miraculous intervention by the saint. Walz concludes that the sepulchre at the Cistercian church became the spiritual meeting point where the faithful of different social groups, ages, or sex could communicate with Thomas.120 Walz’s comments are interesting, but his summary is far too generalized and simplified as regards the beginning and practices of the pilgrimage, while he is incorrect in asserting 116 Neapoli XCIII: ‘dixit se audivisse post mortem dicti fratris Thome a multis qui venerunt ad monasterium Fosse-Nove ubi corpus dicti fratris Thome iacet, quod Deus fecerat et faciebat multa miracula meritis dicti fratris Thome’. 117 Neapoli LXXX. 118 Ystoria LXVI. 119 For example, Neapoli XLVIII. 120 Walz, 1961b, p. 120. For a quite different opinion, see André Vauchez, who has emphasized that a local cult of Thomas the Saint flourished long before the beginning of the official canonization process. Unfortunately, the article is short and Vauchez’s argument is too cursory: Vauchez, 1977b, p. 757.

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that women were regularly present at the tomb. The matter deserves more study, as the canonization sources contain a wealth of information and detail about visitors and their behaviour at Thomas’s tomb if one reads them carefully. Here my aim is to investigate the interaction between the saint, the Fossanova community, and lay devotees and the ways in which Thomas’s sainthood was experienced at the tomb. The experiences of contact with Thomas’s corporeal presence at the Monastery greatly affected the future development of the relic cult as well as the discussion over possession of the relics between the Cistercians and Dominicans, as we will see in the following sections. Any discussion of public interest in Thomas’s tomb must begin with its location and the practicalities of visiting it. First of all, the Cistercian monastic space did not offer particularly good possibilities for outsiders to interact at any tomb situated within its walls. The east end of the church (where Thomas’s tomb was located) was, according to the original Cistercian regulation, accessible exclusively to monks. Even conversi of the Monastery were excluded from the east end, except on Good Friday, when they could enter to clean it.121 The west end was provided for the lay brothers. For common people there was no specific space, as Cistercian communities did not welcome the laity into their churches.122 This remarkably hierarchical and closed church space was a result of the Cistercian worldview, which required the monks to concentrate on spiritual work within their own community.123 Ideally, the Cistercians left the responsibility of cura animarum, saving the souls of the laity, to the secular clergy in the parish churches.124 Thus there was no need to organize lay access to a Cistercian church. From the very beginning of the movement, however, exceptions were made for patron families who had several privileges in regard to Cistercian religious houses and their churches.125 If the local laity was not welcomed to the Cistercian church, it would have been surprising if pilgrims were admitted. The Cistercian abbey church 121 Cassidy-Welch, 2001, p. 173; Newman, 1996, p. 102. At the same time when the converses were cleaning the apsis, transept and monks’ choir area, the choir monks were in the cloister chanting the Psalter. 122 Lekai, 1977, p. 265. 123 Newman, 1996, passim. 124 Newman, 1996, p. 141. On changing ideals and practical choices in daily life of the Cistercian communities in northern Italy: Grillo, 2008. Elisa Parziale gives good examples of how, especially in the second half of the thirteenth century, the monks of Fossanova accepted different tasks in regard to the spiritual care of the laity: Parziale, 2007, pp. 32-33. 125 Jamroziak, 2005, p. 210.

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was not a pilgrimage site. The Cistercian saints were mostly former abbots whose cults thrived within the congregation of the monks. In consequence, the tombs—the main cultic sites—of the abbot-saints were in the chapter houses.126 In her study on Jocelin of Furness, a Cistercian hagiographer from the turn of the twelfth and thirteenth century, Helen Birkett describes a dispute between the monks of Melrose Abbey about whether they should bury Waltheof, their former Abbot who died in an odour of sanctity, in the presbytery, although it was against the rule. One group of monks justified the choice of the presbytery by suggesting that pilgrims would probably flock to the place. The final choice as a burial place was, however, the chapter house, which was also Waltheof’s own wish.127 About a hundred years later in Fossanova, the Cistercian community chose a different, pilgrimage friendly, strategy. When Thomas’s tomb began to attract people soon after his death, as we saw at the beginning of this section, the monks were ready for the arrival of the pilgrims: they had resettled and monumentalized the sepulchre in the apse of the abbey church at the beginning of the 1280s. I suggest that the pilgrimage was one of the most important reasons for the relocation of the tomb to a place which was less central to the community—and therefore not as likely to disrupt its services. As such, it was also easier for the common folk to access it. As for the sepulchre, which was more representative, imposing, accessible and even in a holier place, it was hoped that this would attract more pilgrims to the Monastery. Easy access was essential once the monks became interested in increasing veneration among the laity. Creating pilgrimage shrines—and consequently opening the church space for the pilgrims—did not happen only at Fossanova, but was a general development throughout the Cistercian Order.128 Indeed, in Thomas’s case the difference between practice and theory with regard to the accessibility of the tomb is remarkable. It seems that for those who were a part of the Cistercian community—be they monks, converses, novices, oblates, famuli, or apprentices—nothing hindered them from going to the very east end of the church and venerating Thomas at his tomb. In addition to the Cistercians, members of other male 126 Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 217-222; Birkett, 2010, p. 203. 127 Birkett, 2010, p. 203. Waltheof died in the Cistercian house at Melrose in 1159. Jocelin of Furness was commissioned to write the Vita of Waltheof in 1206-1207. According to Helen Birkett, the main motivation behind the commission was a wish to have the Saint officially canonized: Birkett, 2010, pp. 201-202. 128 Lekai, 1977, 269. As a matter of fact, from the Cistercian regulation regarding the role of the gatekeeper, one can see how restrictive the rules regarding entrance or visits to the Cistercian monasteries were: Ecclesiastica Officia LXXXVII, CXX.

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religious orders, secular priests, and laymen had access to Thomas’s grave. Even children, especially boys, seem to have had no problem in visiting the tomb and touching it.129 As regards women and girls, Fossanova seems to have followed the original rule quite strictly. From the early days of the Cistercian Order, the main church was closed to women: ‘they are not allowed to step through the gate of the Monastery’.130 It appears that the regulation was soon loosened slightly: women were allowed to enter the area of the main court, the guesthouse, and the guesthouse church, but not the Monastery proper.131 In Fossanova, however, the strict attitude towards women seems to have remained unchanged from the early regulation, the Instituta. For example, Petrus Francisci de Piperno, first a shoemaker and later a converse of the Monastery, testifies to how he was cured at Thomas’s tomb while his mother was waiting for him at the gate, because ‘no woman should enter inside’.132 When women came to pray for Thomas’s help for their ill children, the situation was even more problematic: they worried on behalf of the children but, according to the regulation, neither they nor their children could approach the tomb. In a few cases, however, the monks appear to have been merciful and allowed a mother and child to go to the tomb.133 Thus the miracle testimonies of the inquiries tell us about easy access to Thomas’s tomb for men. A good example of such ease of access can be found in the testimony of Petrus Grassus, a Neapolitan knight in the King’s service, who arrived at Fossanova at the end of the 1310s. Petrus makes no mention of any difficulties, or even formalities, at the gate.134 Once in the courtyard, he describes how they sought a monk and asked him to show them the way to the place where Thomas’s corpse was laid. The monk in question directed them into the Church, where he pointed out the tomb from some distance.135 Petrus’s testimony gives the impression that pilgrims 129 Ecclesiastica Officia CXX, prohibited children from entering the main church; CassidyWelch, 2001, p. 31. Small boys are, however, occasionally mentioned as having been at Thomas’s tomb. More often the petition was presented at home and healings happened there: Fossanova XXII, LXXII, LXXVII. 130 Instituta VII, p. 172. 131 Ecclesiastica Officia CXX, also prohibits men from entering the main church if they were accompanied by women; Cassidy-Welch, 2001, p. 31. 132 Neapoli XXII. 133 Fossanova LXXIII, XCVIII, C, CI, CXXXI; Miracula CXL. For an in-depth study on the devotional practices of women, especially their involvement in miracles in late medieval Europe, see Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009. 134 Ecclesiastica Officia LXXXVII, CXX; Cassidy-Welch, 2001, pp. 30-31. 135 Neapoli VII.

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were a common sight in the Abbey’s courtyard; nobody questioned them or tried in any manner to control their access. Finally, this picture of visits to Thomas’s tomb as common occurrences is partly a result of the canonization process. The officers of the canonization were interested in the number of miracles, and if someone did describe, for example, procedures for entry at the gate of the Monastery, the commissars would probably have omitted it from their records. Although the closed Cistercian church space was becoming a mere memory and pilgrims crowded into the presbytery, there is no reason to assume that entry into the east end of the Church would not have been a special moment for a layman. The east end was separated from the rest of the Church by a heavy rood-screen, high enough to limit its visibility from the west end. Consequently, everything that took place at the east end, for example the Eucharistic mystery, the liturgy, the presence of saints in their relics, and the congregation of the monks themselves, expressed God’s powerful presence. The space had a special aura of mystery and holiness, which must also have contributed to the experience of Thomas’s sainthood and the presence at his tomb in the lay imagination.136 Although the descriptions of the testimonies focus on the tomb itself, we can catch some glimpses of the lay perspective of the space around it. For example, according to one story, a father arrived at the Monastery with his dying daughter and received permission from the Abbot to access Thomas’s tomb because the east end was empty. He placed his daughter on the tomb while the monks were eating in the refectory. When the father heard that the monks were returning, chanting as it was their custom, he wanted to lift up the girl. The daughter, however, forbade him to touch her as she was having a vision. The monks returned to the choir in prayer. After a while, to everyone’s great surprise and joy, the girl woke up totally cured.137 The father was probably aware of the restrictions on taking females to the holy space, but what apparently concerned him most was that he and his daughter might have disturbed the holy monks during their services. Further evidence of the widespread understanding that Thomas, and through his intervention, God, could be successfully approached at the presbytery of Fossanova is provided by another miracle story. Because of his illness, Petrus Letus could not move or speak. Thus he had a document drawn up, which described in detail how he should be taken to the Monastery and 136 The similar approach to the special nature of the space for lay devotion in Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 139-140. 137 Miracula CXL.

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placed on the tomb. He also ordered a payment for a mass that should be chanted by the main altar while he was lying on the sepulchre.138 Petrus evidently thought that the celebration of the holy mass where he prayed silently while in bodily contact with Thomas’s tomb would enable closer interaction between him, Thomas, and God. Simultaneous interaction with and contact to the holy through the material world, specifically the tomb, and spiritual communication such as prayers and the mass were possible only at the presbytery of Fossanova. As the examples above attest, it was important to reach the tomb and to be in physical contact with it—or with the relics, the subject under discussion in the following section. In other words, one of my central arguments is that the material aspects were central to the perception of how interaction with Thomas should be conducted. In fact, the stimuli given by Thomas’s presence in Fossanova emerge through all the senses: taste, sight, hearing, odour, and touch in a remarkably vivid way in all the sources.139 Taste is described less frequently than feeling, but it was probably experienced by the monks. As I concluded in the previous section, the Eucharist and Thomas’s presence in the presbytery of Fossanova were complementary. It is quite probable that when the monks received the Eucharist they experienced it to some degree through Thomas and his writings on the topic.140 Moreover, kissing of a Thomas relic is mentioned once in the sources, suggesting that tasting through kissing of the tomb occasionally occurred in the medieval West.141 The most commonly described sensory experience was physical touch, an indication that this was also the most sought after. The ways of touching of Thomas’s tomb and their importance are explored further below, after a discussion of the role of the other three senses in interaction with Thomas’s body. The holiness of the east end was entrenched well-established, but different sounds, light, and scents as well as visual settings must have intensified the atmosphere as a pilgrim approached the holy tomb. There are, for example, mentions that the monks covered the sepulchre with a carpet that was removed when a pilgrim arrived. This concealment and unveiling of the tomb was probably done to create tension and affect the emotions of the devotees.142 The devotees themselves, whether monks or laypeople, 138 Fossanova CXXIII, see also CXVIII. 139 The similar ideas in Sánchez Ameijeiras, 2002; Lamia, 2002, p. 50. 140 Rocío Sánchez Ameijeiras emphasizes the symbolism of tasting the Eucharist and saints’ tombs: Sánchez Ameijeiras, 2002, pp. 30-31. 141 Neapoli XLVI. See also Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, p. 142. 142 Miracula LXXVIII.

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participated in the spectacle and added to the charged atmosphere by approaching the tomb barefoot or with an albatross around their necks, or by carrying small golden or large wax gifts under their arms. In Fossanova there were numerous visible reminders of the illnesses and the miracle cures at Thomas’s tomb. The gifts left at the tomb (multa vota supersunt supra sepulturam ipsius appensa) were mostly wax figures of the visiting men, that is the petitioners, or wax candles, regardless of the type of illness.143 Besides these common wax figures, there were similar silver figures. In addition, a variety of wax or silver models of body parts represented those cured through Thomas’s mediation.144 The gifts manifested Thomas’s miraculous power in the most material way for the pilgrims in Fossanova.145 The monks used lights as well as chants and bells to intensify the experience of the miracles at the tomb. When we consider that many miracles occurred during the canonical hours, incenses may have become a part of the experience of the holy at Thomas’s tomb in the vicinity of the high altar. Candles probably emitted strong scents, as well as illuminating the interior of the church. The sound would have been particularly intense. The air around the tomb was presumably full of tearful prayer, song, and chant: for example, Misere mei has been mentioned as intoned when a cure occurred.146 Witnesses testified to having heard the bells toll in the bell-tower of Fossanova after several of the reported miracles. One miracle story is particularly interesting: Bartholomaeus de Sompnino, presbyter of the Church of Santi Angeli, explained that his relative Iacoba was on her way to the doctor at Priverno when she heard the bell of Fossanova tolling (nolarum sonum campanile). Immediately she remembered Thomas and his tomb in the Church. While standing near Fossanova she prayed to Thomas to help her and thereafter she did indeed recover from the tumour in her throat.147 The bells of churches seem to have been very important in advertising saints or at least reminding those who could hear them tolling of the saints’ presence.148 The clanging of the bells surely intensified the experience of the devotees at the tomb, but it also carried to a wider audience throughout the neighbourhood. 143 Neapoli XXI. 144 Neapoli XXIII, XXXIV, XXXVI. 145 See also Lamia, 2002, p. 45. 146 Fossanova VII, VIII. On English shrines: Finucane, 1977, p. 156. On music and experience of sacred place in the Middle Ages, see Tortoreto, 1990. The acoustic space of the church was not necessarily always agreeable but merely rather cacophonous: Hayes, 2003, pp. 53-69. 147 Fossanova XVII. 148 Cf. Bacci, 2003, pp. 12-13; Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, p. 23; Finucane, 1977, p. 156.

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In the drama at the tomb, the most effective proof of Thomas’s presence was, however, the miracles themselves. The monks were willing to advertise and reinforce the reputation of Thomas’s thaumaturgic power by narrating miracle stories. This process may have begun inside the Monastery, but naturally the tales also began to circulate beyond the Abbey precincts. While advertising the miracles, the monks provided a model for the correct ways of acting at the tomb. The model was followed and the actions of the devotees contributed to the creation of a special sensorial world at the tomb.149 A complex example is a miracle which happened to Raynaldys de sancti Laurentii de Valle, medicus cirurgicus, at the turn of the 1270s and the 1280s.150 This healing miracle is the earliest widely testified to by eye-witnesses, the older generation of the monks of Fossanova.151 While the testimonies differ over details, the basic story is the same: The medicus’ legs were paralyzed, and he was cured by Thomas’s merits on his tomb around the year 1280 (1279-1282). Some of the testimonies emphasized that Raynaldus could not walk without help and he was carried to the tomb, on which he was laid to pray. The time he lay there varies from one to two hours, depending on the testimony.152 The interrogators were interested in knowing the words that Raynaldus used when he was at the tomb, but most of the witnesses gave the disappointing reply that they could not hear because Raynaldus prayed in secret. However, Octavianus de Babuco responded as the officials had no doubt hoped: ‘He [Raynaldus] said that among other [things] he had heard the sick man saying: “I vow to God and Saint Thomas Aquinas that I shall have a waxen image made for him if he releases me [from the sickness].”’153 Curiously enough, the same question that was posed to Octavianus was subsequently put to Petrus de Fundis, another monk of Fossanova. Petrus tells us that Raynaldus had, among other things, vowed that if he was cured by Thomas he would return to the Order of Minors, in which he had formerly been a friar.154 Finally, Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis also claimed to have remembered Raynaldus’s 149 On advertising miracles in general: Finucane, 1977, pp. 156-160. 150 San Lorenzo, the modern Amaseno, situated not far away from the Monastery. 151 Neapoli IX, XI, XIII, XVI, XXI, XXXVII, LIII. The miracle is carefully analysed by Paolo Mariani from the viewpoint of collective memory in the Middle Ages: Mariani, 1996,pp. 259-319. 152 For a detailed analysis of the similarities and differences of the testimonies: Mariani, 1996, pp. 280-291. 153 Neapoli XVI: ‘Interrogatus quibus verbis usus fuit in oratione sua, dixit quod inter alia audivit ipsum infirmum dicentem: “Ego voveo Deo et sancto Thome de Aquino si me liberaverit facere sibi fieri unam ymaginem de cera.”’ 154 Neapoli XXXVIII.

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words after the miracle: ‘By the merits of Saint Thomas Aquinas, I am cured!’ The enthusiasm of Raynaldus spread to the whole monastic congregation, who praised Thomas by tolling the bells of the Monastery and chanting the hymn Te Deum laudamus, as the monks testify.155 I presume that the miracle story was actively propagated among the laity in association with the translation of Thomas’s body, which occurred at more or less the same time as the miracle. The events were remembered together: for example, the testimony of Octavianus de Babuco dates the miracle by saying that ‘it occurred after the translation’.156 The events were important in themselves, but the larger drama of which they were a part sent a powerful message: the translation and the miracle together were a consequence of the successful interaction between Thomas and the monastic community. Through the solemn translation to a more honourable position the Monastery glorified Thomas’s memory. The Saint, for his part, showed that he was content with the translation and manifested his presence at the Monastery through the miracle. It was in the monks’ interest to advertise the glory of Thomas’s thaumaturgic power, celebrating it solemnly by chants and bells, and finally by narrating the miracle stories. By giving a specific formula to the miracle story the monks offered practical advice to pilgrims on how to interact with the saint in such a way that this would bring the desired results. The practices which derived from Raynaldus’s miracle story or which the monks encouraged pilgrims to engage in are many. A high proportion of the illnesses said to have been cured through Thomas’s meditation were forms of paralysis (legs, arms, or both) and other diseases of the limbs.157 Even before Raynaldus’s case, as early as 1277, it was testified that a father brought a paralysed boy to be cured.158 Blindness was another impairment reported to have been cured early on.159 Paralysis and blindness were regularly cured by the intervention of saints, as the model came from Christ’s miracles in the Gospel.160 Nevertheless, the type of miracles performed did change as the 155 Neapoli LIII, also see XIII, XVI. 156 Neapoli XVI. 157 Claire le Brun-Gouanvic has collected the miracles in tables with different variables: le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, pp. 48-60. 158 Neapoli XXXVI. 159 The first cure occurred at Thomas’s death bed, as we have seen in the previous chapter. On cures of eye diseases: Neapoli LI, LXV. 160 In addition to giving an overall picture of illness, Jean-Claude Schmitt provides an interesting discussion of the symbolism of sickness: Schmitt, 2000, pp. 287-307. See also Sigal, 1969, pp. 1527-1528.

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Middle Ages progressed.161 For example, Michael Goodich states that in the fourteenth century, a large number of miracles were related to the insecurity and hardship caused by numerous natural catastrophes and wars. Thus, protection and help in surviving were requested of saints more often.162 All but one of the miracles occurring in Thomas’s miracle stories recorded in the canonization hearings are healings of illnesses. The differences between these miracles and those in Goodich’s research are notable. It appears that the people around Fossanova were not especially concerned about safety, but visited Thomas’s tomb because of accidents that occurred in everyday life. Most were craftsmen like blacksmiths, or field workers, who needed the Saint to intervene and assist with problems common to their way of life: dislocations, aches, and muscle pains. It is likely that Thomas’s early reputation for miracles of the type listed above was decisive in establishing his reputation as a thaumaturge. According to Latinus de Malabranca—the Roman Dominican who wrote a panegyric for Thomas, as noted earlier—among Thomas’s first healing miracles were cures of blindness, deafness, and dumbness (‘the blind saw, the deaf, the dumb were restored to health’).163 The elements of this praise sound typical, but that is not the point, as it is argued here that reports of these kinds of miracles led to the wide diffusion of Thomas’s reputation. Those who suffered from the same diseases, or knew people who suffered from them, would have been impressed with Thomas’s reputed effectiveness in curing them, and would have been encouraged to go to his tomb and ask for help. According to the canonization material, it was not unusual—as at other saints’ tombs—to lie on the lid of the sepulchre.164 Raynaldus, presumably because of his paralysed legs, was placed on Thomas’s tomb for one to two hours. Another widely attested miracle involved Petrus Francisci de Piperno, a shoemaker of the Monastery. He lost the ability to move his limbs, and had himself carried to the tomb and placed on it. After about an hour, he was completely cured.165 The practice of lying on the tomb in Fossanova also became common for those cases in which a sick man might normally have genuflected next to the tomb and touched it with the diseased part of the body. For example, Manuel de Piperno—a converse of Fossanova—had 161 Ronald Finucane has categorized illnesses in medieval England according to the symptoms: Finucane, 1977, pp. 103-111. 162 Goodich, 1995. 163 Laurent, 1937, pp. 586-588. 164 On the practice, see Redon and Gélis, 1984, pp. 567-568; Schmitt, 2000, p. 298. 165 Neapoli XXII, XXIV, XXX, XXXI, LV.

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an afflicted arm, which he hoped would be cured when he laid down himself on the tomb. He was found there by Iacobus de Piperno, the sub-sacristan, who seems to have been irritated that Manuel was sleeping on the tomb.166 Another interesting example is Petrus Grassus, a Neapolitan nobleman, who had a diseased arm. In the canonization hearings he describes how he first genuflected in front of Thomas’s tomb and then stretched himself out on it for an hour.167 Petrus had arrived at the Monastery with several noble companions from Naples, who all appear to have been excited about Petrus’s cure at the tomb. Petrus is said to have declared: ‘Hear a great miracle how I suffered from a great pain in my arm, and how I prayed on top of this sepulchre and was soon cured’.168 Iacobus Capuanus, from the same company, prayed in a similar way on Thomas’s sepulchre as Petrus had, and requested a cure for his afflicted eyes, which he apparently also received.169 An examination of the canonization hearings makes it evident that the practice of lying on Thomas’s tomb was popular among the converses and laymen in Fossanova. There are several examples in which paralysed people were helped onto the top of the tomb by the monks.170 The monks’ help implies an encouragement of the practice, which was in any case quite common in the Middle Ages. According to Jean-Claude Schmitt, lying on the tomb over the corpse of a saint was an important part of the ritualized cure: through this ritual it was believed that when the two bodies were brought into contact in this way, the miraculous power of an eternally living body was transmitted to another, mundane and corruptible.171 From this viewpoint, the monks’ encouragement of the ritualized practice appears very natural: only Fossanova could offer the opportunity to make ‘body to body contact’ with Thomas. The promotion of the possibility to make contact with Thomas’s body at Fossanova was almost certainly a great attraction to the laity.172 At the same time, it is worth noting Odile Redon’s and Jacques Gélis’s claim that the attitude of the Church was hardening 166 Fossanova IX, XXXIV. 167 Neapoli VII, XLIII, XLIV. 168 Neapoli XLIII: ‘Audite magnum miraculum, quia ego patiebar magnum dolorem in brachio et modo super isto sepulcro, postquam oravi, sum sanatus’. 169 Neapoli XLIV. 170 For example, Neapoli XXIV. 171 Schmitt, 2000, p. 298. 172 The enthusiasm of the monks to advertise Thomas’s tomb and the Saint’s thaumaturgical power can be sensed also from the testimony of Iohannes de Neapoli, a Dominican friar. He testifies that the Cistercian monks had presented Thomas’s tomb as a medicine for every misfortune they may have suffered to another Neapolitan Dominican, Landulfus de Neapoli: Neapoli XLVIII.

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towards this habit, as it was increasingly seen as superstitious.173 Iacobus de Piperno’s annoyance at Manuel lying on the tomb and sleeping there may be a reflection of this, as he considered the action inappropriate.174 On the other hand, Manuel’s case is the only one in Thomas’s canonization material where there is any sign of disapproval of the practice. Thus, even if there were attempts to discourage the inconvenient practice among the converses, there is no sign that the monks tried to prevent the laity from continuing to lie on the tomb—quite the contrary. The men who lay on the tomb appear to have been deeply affected by the experience and the resulting miracle. In some cases, this was such a powerful experience that it seems to have caused the beneficiary to enter into the Order as a lay brother or monk. There are several examples of successful recruitment after a miracle on the tomb, one of them apparently the already mentioned case of the medicus Raynaldus. Among the monks of Fossanova, Petrus de Fundis testifies that Raynaldus promised to return to the Franciscan Order as a reciprocal gift for a successful cure. This tells us that he had formerly been a member of the Order, but no-one, including Petrus, mentions that Raynaldus actually fulfilled his promise and returned to it: Petrus, for one, says that he has never seen Raynaldus again.175 In the hearings of the year 1319 Raynaldus’s full name is Raynaldus de sancto Laurentio de Valle, and it is interesting to note that an inquisitorial source from 20 April 1284 already lists a monk of Fossanova with the same name: Raynaldus de sancto Laurenzio de la Valle.176 The cursory entry in the 1284 document gives us no further information, so we can only speculate on the case. Raynaldus was a fairly common name in the area, so they may well have been two different Raynalduses, both connectable to Fossanova. However, no other Raynaldus appears in the sources I have used. It is worth remembering that Raynaldus’s miracle occurred at the latest in 1282, and the inquisition took place in 1284. It is possible that Raynaldus, once a Franciscan friar, entered the Cistercian Order first as a novice and then became a monk, all this before the interrogation in 1284. If this did occur, why did the monks not make more of it? Entering the Order after the miracle would have been an excellent opportunity to propagate Thomas’s power. Without other documentation, the question remains unsolvable. 173 Redon and Gélis, 1984, pp. 567-568. 174 According to Sari Katajala-Peltomaa, it was a common habit to sleep at the shrines of Saints Thomas of Cantilupe and Nicholas of Tolentino. She also discusses the long history of the curative power of sleep at the holy place: Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 142-145. 175 Neapoli XXXVII. 176 Ciammaruconi, 2002.

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One reason for silence, of course, may have the delicate issue of recruiting a former member of a different Order.177 This would be especially so if it was known that Raynaldus had sworn to return to the Franciscans if the cure was successful, but actually became a Cistercian. There are several other cases in which the beneficiaries entered into the order after a miracle. For example, the small paralysed boy, Iacobus, who laid on Thomas’s tomb in the year 1277, was a converse at the time of the canonization. Petrus de Fundis, who testified about the miracle, does not mention the miracle as a cause for joining the Order, but it is possible that the event turned the course of the life of a little boy.178 Another case concerns Petrus Francisci, the shoemaker of the Monastery. According to several witnesses, including Petrus himself, one day he was working at the Monastery and sat down for a while to rest.179 While sitting there he was practically paralysed after accepting a cup of water from an unknown man. The man was clearly a demon. After a couple of days, he was placed on top of Thomas’s tomb, where he was completely cured. Petrus states in his testimony that after the miracle he continued as a shoemaker for a year and then entered the Cistercian Order as a lay brother.180 Several miracle stories demonstrate the use of Thomas’s tomb, and presence, for recruitment at the Monastery. The miracle stories reveal Thomas’s efficiency as a protector of the monastic community.181 The message of the miracles is often connected to the benefits of belonging to the community: Thomas was the protector of the Monastery, who looked after minor and disobedient members of Fossanova as well as serving others and guiding them to humility.182 These miracle stories are good examples of Thomas’s power and active participation in the life of the Monastery. At the centre of the perception of Thomas in Fossanova was the physical monument, the tomb. It was the tomb, and to a much lesser extent the body, which caught the attention of the devotees when they visited the Monastery. Generally speaking, the sources claim that people arrived at Thomas’s tomb because of their devotion towards him (deuotione concepta S. Thomam).183 Only rarely does anyone mention a wish to be in contact with the body, which, naturally, was inside the tomb. A prayer of Iacobus de Fresolino, a 177 On the topic from the Dominican viewpoint, see Hinnebusch, 1965, pp. 321-326. 178 Neapoli XXXVI. 179 Neapoli XIV, XXVII, XXX, XXXI, XXXVIII, LV, and LVII. 180 Neapoli XXII. 181 Neapoli XXII, XXIX, XXXII, XXXIV, XXXIX, and LVII. 182 For further analysis of the miracle, see Räsänen, 2013. 183 Miracula CXX, CXXVI; De miraculis S. Thomae Lib. II, pars II, p. 25.

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monk of Fossanova, is rather impressive: ‘Blessed Thomas, the sacred corpse, release me from this fever and I promise to make for you a wax gift if only I will be released from the said fever’. He was cured of high fever by Thomas’s merits.184 Petrus Grassus, the earlier mentioned Neapolitan nobleman, also gave an exceptional statement, saying that he went to Fossanova to see Thomas’s corpse (attendere de beato corpore dicti fratris Thome), not the tomb as the other devotees did.185 Petrus adds that when he expressed his wish to his companions, they stated that it was also their great desire to visit the place.186 One of Petrus’s companion, Henricus de Caracchulis, again, explains specifically in his own testimony that he went with others to Fossanova because of his devotion and because he wanted to see Thomas’s sepulchre (causa videndi sepulcrum).187 To emphasize Thomas, and not the corpse or the relics as the mediator of miracles, was probably also a doctrinal matter. The miracles occurred because of God, and saints were only His advocates. Thus, some formulations used in Thomas’s canonization material may also be signposts to the notarial and doctrinal language of the time.188 Although the possible corruption of the evidence, these different testimonies illustrate my point that people generally perceived the tomb as the embodiment of Thomas’s presence and miraculous power, or even the place, rather than the body or the relics directly—despite the fact that from the doctrinal viewpoint, the tomb was not more correct target of veneration than the relics. It is interesting that as a rule the witnesses describe Thomas’s tomb, and not so much his corpse inside it, as a focal point of the devotional practices in the apsis. The phenomenon is even more interesting if we compare it to similar cases studied by Sari Katajala-Peltomaa. According to her, referring to the miracle collections of Saint Thomas of Cantilupe and Saint Nicholas of Tolentino, ‘the supplicants rushed to the sacred space, claiming occasionally that they were going to Saint Nicholas or to Saint Thomas—not to the shrine or to the vicinity of the relics, but to these particular persons’.189 In Thomas Aquinas’s case, then, the tomb had a much more significant role than in the cases of his colleagues. It is likely that most of Thomas’s devotees, especially lay brothers and laymen, needed a material representation of the Saint’s 184 Neapoli XXXIII: ‘Beate Thoma, corpus sanctum, libera me ab ista febre et ego promitto tibi facere unum votum de cera si liberabor a dicta febre’. 185 Neapoli VII. 186 Neapoli VII. 187 Neapoli XL. 188 Robyn Malo has registered the same phenomenon, the centrality of the shrine and reliquary rather than the relics themselves, in texts from medieval England: Malo, 2013, pp. 21, 27-56. 189 Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, p. 139.

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power on which to focus their attention, even though they underwent a spiritual experience. This was perhaps less so among the monks. The tomb was visible and tangible; its presence could be seen, heard—from bells tolling and other sounds—and smelt. Thomas’s body remained unseen inside the tomb. As such it was more difficult, even impossible, to describe, see, or touch, which meant that it was a far more difficult object to perceive or focus on than its tomb. The powerful experience of the tomb and sepulchre may also be a consequence of their monumental setting, the probable appearance of which was discussed in the previous section. The extent to which the tomb dominated the popular perception of Thomas appears to have been so great that the origin of its power, the Saint himself, may have vanished from the public consciousness to some extent. Although the faithful seem to have perceived saints’ tombs as the places where the eternal body of the saint could transmit power to the body of a living person, the currently scholarly view is that the practice of lying on the tomb was disappearing in the Late Middle Ages. Often simply touching the tomb was enough to gain the cure.190 Redon and Gélis have argued against the prevailing view: according to them, the Church no longer favoured the practice, which caused it to disappear from the official sources and any material directed to the Church authorities. Unofficially, they suggest that lying on the tomb was popular long after the Middle Ages.191 In Thomas’s case, pilgrims climbed onto the tomb as well as knelt before it—there was no practice that was favoured above others in the fourteenth century. A change seems to have happened, but somewhat later. Interestingly, when Thomas’s miracle stories were rewritten alongside new ones in the legendaries of the Early Modern period, the scene of the miracle shifted from the top of the tomb to beside it. For example, in the rewritten story of Petrus Grassus, he did not climb onto the tomb, but was cured by touching the sepulchre with his crippled arm. Similarly, Iacobus ‘touched it’ with his infected eyes. According to a miracle that was not yet included in the canonization material, Cocchio da Terracina suffered terrible pains in his stomach and decided to visit Thomas’s sepulchre. There he lay on the ground, devoutly hoping for a cure.192 At the time of the canonization, Cocchio most probably 190 Jansen, 1984, p. 143. Examples from the beginning of the fourteenth century cited by Katajala-Peltomaa suggest the same (petitioners slept at the shrine but not on it), although she does not explicate the case: Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 141-145. 191 Redon and Gélis, 1984, pp. 567-568. They claim that the magical character of this habit, especially in connection to the bones, was one reason why the Church propagated miracle collections in which the significance of saints’ tombs was diminished. 192 Castiglio 1589, p. 426.

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would have been placed on the tomb to pray for a cure, as suggested by a very similar miracle story in which Landulfus de Neapoli, a Neapolitan Dominican, was cured from colic on Thomas’s tomb.193 The practice of lying on the tomb appears to have caused disapproval to such an extent at the end of the sixteenth century that the old stories sustaining the habit were rewritten to exclude it. What we know of Thomas’s cult gives clear evidence of the importance of saints’ cults along with relics to medieval people, and the importance of their monuments, in Thomas’s case the tomb, in those cults. In previous studies, scholars have often understated the significance of the saints’ tombs and relics in late medieval culture. They have justified these opinions by citing the increasing number of miracles that occurred at a distance from saints’ sepulchres.194 The statistics may well give an accurate impression of reality, but the numbers alone constitute insufficient evidence of attitudes and practice in the Late Middle Ages. A more profound analysis of the social and ecclesiastical background to miracles and the context of cultic practices is needed.195 Thomas’s case, which demonstrates a powerful desire for tangibility, is a good example. Among the sensual experiences in the canonization material, contact between the whole body and the sacred stands out. It may be assumed that sounds, odours, and whatever a petitioner could see on and around tomb also played an important part in creating his perception at the tomb. All were part of the materially orientated experience of sainthood.

Divided body, fragmented sanctity As we have seen in the previous section, Thomas’s sepulchre became central to the devotional life of the Monastery and its visitors around the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The people perceived the interaction 193 Neapoli XLVIII. 194 Vauchez has emphasized that images took the place of relics as a focus of devotional life of the laity: Vauchez, 1989, pp. 456-457 and 2003, p. 228. On the increasing number of miracles occurring at a distance from the tombs: Krötzl, 2000, pp. 557-576; Schmitt, 2000, p. 299; Sigal, 1969, p. 1533. Sari Katajala-Peltomaa, although she stresses the importance the images received in the cults of saints in the fourteenth century, justifiably remarks that the images did not reduce the importance of the relics in any way: Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 138-139. 195 Odile Redon and Jacques Gélis is a good example of socio-ecclesiastical consideration regarding the nature of sicknesses and the ways in which, and where, people sought a cure in medieval and early modern cultures: Redon and Gélis, p. 1984.

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with the Saint at his tomb as consoling and useful. Thomas’s material presence was highly respected and people wanted to participate in it, especially by touching the stone slab, but there was still a need for a material presence of Thomas beyond the church space, which resulted in the dividing of the corpse into parts. Dividing a saint’s body was a natural way to enable the saint’s presence in many places during the Middle Ages. In this section, I study the significance and meaning given to Thomas’s body parts by the monks, the Dominican friars, and the laity, as well as the utility of the body parts, particularly in Fossanova. Thomas’s body was reduced to pieces in 1274-1368. According to a document that was made when a papal official was organizing the transportation of Thomas’s corpse to Toulouse in 1368, the relic casket contained only fifty bones, considerably fewer than those in a complete skeleton (c. 200 bones).196 If this was the case, then only a fourth of Thomas’s body was on its way to France. We know only a little of the location of the rest of the bones.197 One of the most discussed topics in the historiography of Thomas’s relic cult, from the Middle Ages to our day, has been the fragmentation of Thomas’s body. The information on how and when Thomas’s body was divided up was given by different people and contains many contradictions. Chronologically, the first observations concerning the fragmentation of Thomas’s body are dated soon after Thomas’s death. Bartholomaeus de Capua, the Neapolitan nobleman and King’s Chamberlain, mentions the separation of Thomas’s head from the corpse in the canonization hearings: About eight months after [the entombment] there began to circulate a rumour that frater Petrus de Tarentasia from the Order of Preachers had been elected Pope, and he wanted Thomas’s corpse to be transferred to a more worthy place of the Dominicans. For this reason the monks of Fossanova feared that they would lose the corpse, they tied Thomas to themselves by the three following acts: during the night they exhumed Thomas’s corpse from the place where it was. They separated the head from the body for themselves. The head was located in a secret place in the corner of the Chapel, which was behind the choir. The witness saw it 196 Douais, 1903, pp. 65-75. This is a transliteration from an original document from the Archives of Haute-Garonne. The document addresses the change of the relics from the Dominicans of Fondi to the envoy of the Pope, Guillelmus de Lordato. 197 One example of the history of Thomas’s body parts: The monks of Fossanova gave a finger relic to Petrus de Tardo, who visited at the monastery in 1354: Jacquin, 1923. Petrus, however, gave the relic to the Dominicans of Langres. The relic is mentioned in the inventory in 1459: AGOP, Liber Hhh., f. 352. By 1790 it had disappeared: Jacquin, 1923, p, 289.

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there several times; idea being that, should they lose the aforesaid body, at least the head would remain in Fossanova.198

Bartholomaeus dates the division to eight months after Aquinas’s death, in 1274. But he also connects the fragmentation to the election of a new Pope, Peter of Tarentasia, a Dominican friar who took the name Innocent V, and who reigned from January to June 1276, which implies a slightly different date.199 Later in his testimony, Bartholomaeus implies that at the time of the division the corpse was integral, with the exception of the arm which the monks had given to Thomas’s sister. In another testimony, the hand donation is dated to 1288. According to Bartholomaeus, the reason for the separation of the corpse and the head was the Cistercian monks’ fear of losing Thomas’s body. The separation of the head and its concealment was a way of keeping a precious part, the head, at the Monastery. Dividing saintly bodies was a common practice from Late Antiquity onwards, but there was increasing criticism of it in the High Middle Ages. At the University of Paris, arguments against the evisceration and dismemberment of bodies were made in the 1280s and 1290s. Pope Boniface VIII made the ultimate pronouncement on the matter in 1299 in his bull Detestande feritatis, which condemned evisceration, dismemberment, and boiling of the cadaver. Although the bull was authoritative and it became a part of Canon law, it did not eradicate the habit totally. It was, for example, possible to have a dispensation from the Pope if the disengaging of bones was necessary. Later, during the fourteenth century, the usage seems once again to become more acceptable in the Papal Curia.200 The fragmentation of a saintly corpse was a slightly different problem than dismemberment of ordinary bodies in the Middle Ages. First of all, it 198 Neapoli LXXX: ‘Postea vero elapsis VIII mensibus vel circa, insonuit rumor quod frater Petrus de Tarentasia, de ordine fratrum Predicatorum, factus erat papa et volebat quod corpus prefati fratris Thome transferretur in aliquem locum honorabiliorem fratrum Predicatorum, propter quod monachi dicti monasterii Fosse-Nove timentes perdere corpus prefati fratris Thome restrinserunt se ad tres, et quadam nocte exhumaverunt corpus dicti fratris Thome de loco ubi erat, et amputaverunt sibi caput et posuerunt illud in quodam loco secreto in angulo cuiusdam capelle, que est post chorum, quam vidit idem testis pluries, illa consideratione quod si dictum corpus perderent, caput saltem remaneret eisdem’. 199 On Pope Innocent V, see Vian, 2000. 200 Detestande feritatis can be found in Liber sextus. VI 3.7.2., edited in Friedberg, 1959, pp. 10371038. Benedict XI, a former Dominican friar and Boniface’s immediate successor, seems to have shared his predecessor’s wish to end the custom and he did not nullify the bull. Brown, 1981 and 1990, passim. On the cultural atmosphere: Bynum, 1991, pp. 265-297; Vauchez, 2003, pp. 244-245; Westerhof, 2008, pp. 75-95. On the theological discussions: Santi, 1987.

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must be remembered that the importance of the body parts of saints, that is their relics, was based on the belief that saints, having already lived a heavenly life before their death, were present in every single piece of their remains on earth. As every piece, independently of the others, was perceived as a saint, it followed that dividing a powerful body into pieces was often regarded as advantageous. As Caroline Walker Bynum and Paula Gerson explain, ‘fragments of martyrs had come to be revered as loci of power and of special access to the divine’.201 The body of the saint, however, could be divided only when it had decayed or turned to dust. In theological discussion, the dismembering of the saint’s body before it had decayed naturally was considered reprehensible.202 Incorruptibility was also an important sign of sainthood. From this viewpoint, Bartholomaeus’s testimony appears problematic to the monks of Fossanova. The Cistercians might have been judged on the grounds of mishandling the corpse of the famous theologian and saint candidate: if the corpse was divided eight months after death, when it was still rather fresh, the act was indefensible. Similarly, if it was divided years later and it was still incorrupt, the act would still have been reprehensible. Did Bartholomaeus’s intend to scandalize the commissioners of the canonization process by his testimony? Perhaps not. At least, in the documentation surviving from the canonization there are no signs that the Cistercians were criticized for their acts, macabre or not. Bartholomaeus’s testimony appears to be a sort of synthesis of all that happened to Thomas’s corpse during its sojourn at Fossanova, a shorter and less detailed version than the narrations of the Cistercian monks. Besides the elements that make his testimony look like a summary, the reasoning within it makes it more real than the narrations of the monks, with more topical emphases. As a matter of fact, the abbreviated version may have been a long-lived story among the laity, as Bartholomaeus himself states in his testimony in Naples.203 201 Bynum and Gerson, 1997, p. 3; Bynum, 1991, p. 183. 202 It appears to have been common opinion that in the case of the saints, as in other cases, the flesh and other perishable parts should be allowed to turn to dust by a natural process of decay before the body could be divided up: Brown, 1981, p. 243; Westerhof, 2008, p. 94. It was also believed that if a saint wanted to become fragmented, he or she was capable of advancing the process of the decay: Westerhof, 2008, p. 94; Birkett, 2010, p. 215. Thomas’s corpse was, however, said to have been still in a perfect state twelve years after the death. For more about the philosophical discussions of the end of the fourteenth century: Santi, 1987. On general attitudes towards dying and the corpse in the thirteenth century: Vauchez, 2003, pp. 240-245. 203 Neapoli LXXX. There are several features which imply a local tradition of Thomas’s relics in Bartholomaeus’s testimony, see Chapter I.

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A local narrative tradition may have functioned as a model for rather more serious criticism than Bartholomaeus’s of Cistercian handling of Thomas’s corpse at the time of the canonization. At the end of the fourteenth century, Raymundus Hugonis, a Dominican friar, claimed in his Historia translationis corporis s. Thome de Aquino that the Cistercians boiled Thomas corpse and separated the head from the body, when Benedict XI (reign 1303-1304) was Pope. Pope Benedict, born Nicola Boccasini, was also from the Dominican Order. According to Raymundus, this explained the monks growing fear of losing the remains. A Dominican pope was the greatest threat to the Cistercians of Fossanova, as the Pope had authority to order the monks to hand Thomas’s corpse over to the Dominicans.204 Thus, according to Raymundus, the monks reacted to the threat by boiling the body, which would make it easier to hide or move if necessary.205 As we can see, Bartholomaeus’s testimony and Raymundus’s text are similar in all but two respects: first, the practice of dismembering was different (in the first case the body was divided in two parts and in the second it was completely reduced to bones) and second, the date is changed from the 1270s to the beginning of the fourteenth century. Significantly, both were times when a Dominican pope reigned. Let us f irst consider the difference in dismembering practices, and especially the claims that Thomas’s body was boiled. I suggest that the Dominican claims were time-related. As mentioned, Pope Boniface VIII was very alarmed at the practice. If not from other examples, he was probably aware of it from the boiling of King Louis in 1270. The Pope forbade the custom in his constitution Detestande feritatis, describing it in the following way: ‘the bodies were cruelly disemboweled and monstrously cut into pieces, which were cast into boiling water. Then, when the bones were loosened from the flesh, they were sent or carried to the place reserved for interment’.206 The Dominicans made exceptionally good use of the Pope’s judgement, as they dated the boiling of Thomas’s body to the period 204 Cf. Brown, 1981, p. 234. 205 Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, fols. 113v-114; Historia translationis, p. 84. 206 The citation is from Brown, 1981, p. 221, the original from VI 3.7.2. The practice, however, was commonly performed among the nobility if someone died abroad. In these cases, the custom was practical, as bones were easier and more hygienic to carry home from far-off lands. A Florentine chronicler, Boncompagno, having seen German knights boiled in water, and apparently also in wine, and brought back home from Italy, called the custom mos teutonicus, the name which remained in use: Westerhof, 2008, pp. 78-79. It is sometimes claimed that Thomas was boiled in wine. See, for example: Gerulaitis, 1967, p. 44. The medieval sources, however, do not mention wine in this context.

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immediately after the bull, 1303-1304 when, as chance would have it, there was also a Dominican pope. Before I conclude the episode regarding Thomas’s dismemberment, I will briefly consider two similar cases, both of future saints. Both Thomas of Cantilupe (d. 1282) and Birgitta of Sweden (d. 1373) died in Italy, which was not their homeland, and it is very likely that their corpses were boiled immediately after death to make the trip home more pleasant for the escort. The description of the practice in Thomas of Cantilupe’s case is simple: after his death ‘the bones were separated from the flesh and transported in England’.207 The Life of Birgitta only mentions that after her death, the bones were translated from Rome to Sweden.208 In the extant sources, there is no account of how the body was taken apart, presumably because this was considered either unnecessary or distasteful. The description of the dismemberment of Thomas Aquinas’s corpse, on the other hand, tells us precisely why it was done: the boiling made it easier to separate the bones from the flesh. The Dominican story of the boiling is a part of the Historia translationis text genre from the turn of the 1360s and 1370s. The story is most likely older, having arisen from the same South Italian narrative root as Bartholomaeus’s testimony.209 It exploited the earlier philosophical and scholarly discussions and amplified the elements liable to create a sense of disapproval: the corpulent, saintly body had been perfectly preserved for years before it was despoiled by horrible customs, as the Pope himself had called them only a few years before the alleged boiling happened.210 Thus the tale of the boiling became an important justification for the Dominican claim that Thomas’s corpse belonged to them, and indeed also for Pope Urban V’s command that Thomas’s remains must be moved to the Dominican church in Toulouse. Of all the contradictory material in the sources concerning the fragmentation of Thomas’s body, the question of the timing of the act has become the most discussed topic in Italian scholarship during the last two centuries. 207 Compendium vitae II, p. 35: ‘ejusdem domini Thomae defuncti ossa a carne separata fuerunt in Angliam apportata’. For a brief discussion of the boiling of Thomas’s corpse, see Finucane, 1977, p. 174. 208 Vita S. Birgittae III, p. 33. 209 I discuss the Southern Italian origins of the first section of the draft version of the Historia translationis text in more detail in the next chapter. On Bartholomaeus and his cultural background, see Neapoli LXXIX; Mandonnet, 1923, pp. 16-17. Pelster has studied Thomas’s youth and family and regards Bartholomaeus as very trustworthy on these matters: Pelster, 1923, pp. 299-313, 385-400, 400-410. 210 For an example of the disapproval of the practice, and the Mendicant orders’ involvement in it, see Brown, 1990, p. 812.

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Early scholars followed the sources, so that much of the discussion took the form of a debate on whether the boiling happened and when.211 At the end of the nineteenth century, for example, Pio-Tommaso Masetti, a Dominican friar, published an article in which he pondered different opinions on the year of the division of Thomas’s body. Masetti thought that the separation took place in 1303-1304.212 Domenico Clemente dated both the separation of the hand and the head to 1288.213 Raimondo Diaccini identified the following successive dismemberments: the thumb at the funeral in 1274, the hand in 1288, and the head in 1303, after which they boiled the rest of the corpse in 1304.214 Mandonnet supposes that the head was cut off the corpse in 1276 or around the years 1303-1304. He also argued that in the canonization hearings the Cistercians would not have confessed to removing the head in 1276, or even later.215 Most recently, Edmondo Angelini suggests that almost all the dates are possible for the division of the body. Similarly, he considers the possibility that the final separation of the corpse into parts might have occurred as part of the natural course of degeneration during the first half of the fourteenth century.216 I concur with Pierre Mandonnet that the Cistercians would have concealed such a deed from the canonization committee had they dismembered Thomas’s body deliberately. The committee would probably not have regarded the forcible separation of body parts very favourably.217 I would argue, however, that more important than any concealment of a fragmentation by the Cistercians was their idea of the integrity of Thomas’s corpse. As we have seen in the previous section, the integrity of Thomas’s body was extremely 211 It is interesting that the Cistercian monks do not mention when and how the detaching of Thomas’s head from the rest of the corpse had happened. They do, however, give descriptions of the state of the corpse in various translations and mention relics separated from Thomas’s body on various occasions. According to Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis the body was integral in c. 1281, when it was transferred to the new tomb: Neapoli LII. Later he mentions the separated head: Neapoli LIV. Nicolaus the converse says that Thomas’s hand was separated from the corpse in 1288 at the petition of Thomas’s sister Teodora, the countess of Sanseverino: Neapoli XX; XLVI. 212 Masetti, 1874, p. 36. 213 Clemente, 1873, p. 41. Raffaele Carnevali seems to have been confused: he dates both the separation of the hand and the head to 1288, but he also mentions claims that the corpse was boiled and the head separated as occurring in 1303-1304: Carnevali, 1882, pp. 353-354. 214 Diaccini, 1934, p. 288. 215 Mandonnet, 1923, p. 17. According to Mandonnet, the reigns of the Dominican popes were the most critical years regarding the Cistercian possession over Thomas’s remains. 216 Angelini, 1998, pp. 218-223. 217 It is worth noting that in Italy the custom of boiling was perhaps more widely condemned than elsewhere: Brown, 1981, p. 234.

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important to them. This importance, however, was symbolical, and this is a strong reason not to read the Cistercian testimonies as literally as the scholars of previous centuries have done. The monks interpreted the appearance of the corpse symbolically, which means that the body they described was not the real one. It was an idealized, saintly thing, and as such integral and emitting a pleasant odour. On the other hand, although the discourse was largely symbolical, it would be unwise to regard the sources as worthless in regard to the history of the fragmentation of Thomas’s body. I regard the testimony of Bartholomaeus of Capua on the date of the dismemberment of Thomas’s body as more convincing than the others, although the source has inner inconsistencies. It is very likely that the monks separated the head from the corpse quite early, only a few years after Thomas’s death, and conserved it separately. The separation of the head, as well as other body parts, was done for specific reasons, which we can now look at. Lay devotion provided the motivation for the separation of Thomas’s relics and their conservation in the sacristy. For women especially, as they had no access to Thomas’s tomb because of the rules of the Cistercian monasteries, the portable relics offered an opportunity to be in contact with the Saint.218 A miracle that occurred to Margarita de Piperno is a good example of a case at the gate of Fossanova. Petrus de Piperno, Margarita’s brother, tells how his sister, full of devotion, arrived in Fossanova with him and their mother. She suffered from scrofula and because of her sickness she could not marry. Witnesses recount that Margarita, her mother, and other women who accompanied her begged the monks to bring Thomas’s relics to the gate and place them on Margarita’s swollen throat. Petrus de castro Montis SanctiIohannis testifies that he asked the sacristan to bring Thomas’s head from the sacristy. The sacristan did what Petrus asked and Margarita was cured.219 In the canonization material there are several thaumaturgic miracles that occurred with the help of various relics of Thomas. The majority of these miracles happened at Fossanova, more precisely at the gate of the Monastery.220 From the testimonies it appears that the reputation of Thomas’s separate relics spread continually, and the monks were always ready to carry them to the gate. For example, a twelve-year-old girl named Adelasia with a throat infection (una infirmitas in gutture que vocatur squilentia) travelled to Fossanova with her mother. At the gate they asked the monks 218 At the Cistercian house of Pontigny, the arms of Saint Edmund Rich were separated from the corpse in c. 1249, and they were taken out to the gate when needed: Finucane, 1977, pp. 87, 139. 219 Neapoli LIV, LVI. 220 For example, Fossanova LXIII; Miracula CXX.

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to show them some of Thomas Aquinas’s relics. A relic box was placed on Adelasia’s head and she was cured.221 It seems that the reputation of Thomas’s relics grew to such an extent that men, who could easily have visited Thomas’s corpse at his tomb, preferred to be touched with a single relic. For example, according to the testimony of Riccardus de Fundis, a sacristan, Iacobus Martellutii de Piperno arrived at the Monastery with a badly swollen throat and prayed to Riccardus to show him Thomas’s relics, which were kept at the sacristy, and place them against his throat. The sacristan did so and the throat was healed. The miracle is said to have occurred at the sacristy, the place where the relics were conserved.222 As the examples above attest, Thomas’s body parts were perceived to be effective with diseases of swelling or tumour on throat, neck, or head.223 The first miracle which occurred by touch of Thomas’s body part may have functioned as a model for the future practice to use the single relics for certain diseases. The miracle in question took place around 1312 at the Castle of Sanseverino. There, at the Chapel of the Castle, Thomas’s sister Teodora conserved Thomas’s hand as a relic. A visiting priest, Thomas de Marchia, refused to venerate the hand of a man who had not been canonized, ergo, not ‘a saint, although he could easily be called a preacher’. He received a heavenly punishment. The witness says: Immediately he was seized by an intemperate tremor and his head was seen to become large as if it was an immense, heavy cyst. Thomas [de Marchia] soon understood the reason for the swelling and went to the chaplain to get Thomas’s relic again so that he could repent. Having obtained the hand, Thomas approached it, praying and kissing it. At the very same moment he was relieved of the tremor and swelling. He also smelt powerful perfume coming from the hand and from the touch of the hand in his cowl. He and his cowl smelt so strongly for such a long time that people with whom he spoke asked if he carried musk with him.224 221 Fossanova CVII, CVIII, CIX. 222 Neapoli LXXIV. William of Tocco tells of the same miracle. The miracle occurred after touching the relics but the place was Thomas’s tomb, not the sacristy: Miracula XXXVI. 223 Gutta, gout, was a widely reported infirmity in medieval miracle collections. The terms gout and dropsy both seem to have implied a general swelling: cf. Finucane, 1977, p. 104. 224 Neapoli XLVI: ‘Qui testis […] incontinenti eum arripuit quidam tremor et videbatur ei quod haberet caput grossum ad modum unius magne ciste et valde ponderosum. Qua obtenta, accessit cum devotione ad orandum et osculandum manum predictam; in cuius manus osculatione et adoratione fuit dictus testis a tremore et inflatione capitis subito liberatus et sanus factus et

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Thomas de Marchia was punished for his disrespectful attitude to Thomas Aquinas’s sanctity, albeit still an unofficial sanctity. In the Middle Ages, these kinds of miracle stories were common in connection to saint candidates. The idea of them was to convince sceptics and persuade them to recognize a candidate’s sainthood. Doubting persons normally received a punishment such as a sudden disease, as did Thomas de Marcia with his tremor and cyst. The miracle at Sanseverino was highly significant for two reasons: first, the miracle makes a reference to a probably nascent cult of Thomas’s single relics, and second, the story became an authentication of Thomas’s sanctity and as such it encouraged the veneration of Thomas’s body part relics as well as giving a model for further devotional practices. Many of the people healed by the touch of a body part relic suffered from ailments of the throat and neck. It would be easy to conclude that this was only natural, as the relics were easily placed on the affected spot. That is not, however, a totally correct explanation. There is a case to be made for disease-specific use of the bodily relics, which can be attested especially by comparing the body parts to the representative relics, such as pieces of clothes and robes that had touched Thomas’s tomb and had become holy objects as a result. These secondary relics would have been as suitable as the head-relic or small bones to place directly on an injured area of throat, neck, or head. The representative relics were used for similar diseases as the bodily relics but also for various other problems from delivery pains to arm, leg, and chin-ache.225 This use of secondary relics attests to the specialized use of body part relics for a narrower range of diseases. Thus, as regards Thomas’s case, the reputation of the relics seems to have rested on more than their functionality: Thomas’s devotees appear to have sought remedies for their problems from a particular type of relics, or bones or other objects, those which they knew to be effective for the specific problem they suffered from. Thus, the type and location of the disease affected the perception of the body part relics greatly. In addition, certitude of the authenticity of sainthood affected the perception, as we have seen in the miracle story of Thomas de Marchia. Yet, the question of authenticity and the perception of sentiit odorem maximum ex dicta manu progredientem et ex tactu manus predicte in caputio suo quod tenebat in collo, ipse et caputium adeo redolebant quod per magnum tempus videbatur illis inter quos conversabatur quod ipse secum portaret muscum’. 225 The practice of making secondary relics was common in the Middle Ages: Hermann-Marcard, 1977, pp. 45-49; Snoek, 1995. On Thomas’s secondary relics (and making the secondary relics) at Fossanova: Ystoria LXVI; Miracula XXXIX, XLIII, LXXVIII; De miraculis S. Thomae II, pars III, p. 79.

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the body part relics was also related to a specific space. In the canonization material there are a few references to individual body parts conserved outside the Monastery of Fossanova. The rare examples that were mentioned were invariably inside the sacred buildings. The secondary relics, on the other hand, were apparently conserved in the homes of devotees. After the canonization the situation changed and Thomas’s corpse was conserved in a secular building, the Castle of Fondi. Around the mid-fourteenth century, Count Honoratus of Fondi located Thomas’s corpse in his room and seemingly used the relics to emphasize his own power and the family connection to the Saint (this is discussed at greater length in the next chapter). Countess Teodora received Thomas’s hand in 1288. She also kept the hand in her castle, in this case in the Chapel. Without doubt Teodora, too, wanted to make her kinship with Thomas visible, but her opportunities to do so were restricted. In the 1280s it would have been very difficult to present Thomas as a saint and the hand as a relic had it been placed in a part of the Castle devoted to secular uses. The unique solution for Teodora was to place Thomas’s hand with other relics already accepted as genuine, in the Chapel of the Castle. In this case the hand was sanctified by the place and the existing relic collection.226 By the 1350s Thomas had been canonized and his sanctity could not easily be questioned, regardless of the location of his relics. At the Castle of Count Honoratus, the location or presentation no longer defined the remains as sacred or mundane. What can we say about the sensorial perception of Thomas’s body parts among the faithful? In Fossanova the pilgrims had the opportunity to see, touch, smell, and perhaps even taste the relics (by kissing). Seeing and touching were the most common methods of making contact with the bones. In several miracle stories Thomas’s bone or several bones are mentioned as such, without any reference to the container of the relics. One exception is ‘a relic box’, mentioned above in Adelasia’s case. Iacobus Martellutii de Piperno’s case, also related above, included a scene in which three of Thomas’s bones were placed against Iacobus’s throat. Despite the lack of mentions, it would have been very odd to conserve Thomas’s body parts without any container, and especially to allow the laity to touch them directly. According to Nicole Herrmann-Mascard, maintenance of relics without any cover was forbidden in Canon law.227 The container not only protected the bones from the mundane, but also from dirt and wear. Indeed, 226 Neapoli XLVI. 227 Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, p. 214. See also Liber extra: X 3.45.2., edited in Friedberg, 1959, p. 650.

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it is likely that all the bones of Thomas preserved individually in Fossanova were inside a pouch at the very least.228 The pouch as a container would not have given any specific form to the relic, but the monks presumably told devotees what the pouch contained, or possibly even exposed the contents before enclosing the relics in their container again and placing it or them on the affected body part of a petitioner. The relic container became a significant part of the relic’s identity: it was actually the reliquary that gave it colour, material, shape, and a tangible surface.229 Both the description of Thomas’s hand-relic at the Castle of Sanseverino and the above cited testimony of Thomas de Marchia give the impression of contact with the bone itself. For example, ‘He saw [the hand] with skin, flesh, bones, nerves, and nails, all integral, just the thumb missing’.230 The description is impressive, lively and anatomical, but in all probability symbolic. There is a source from a considerably later period which mentions that the hand-bone was conserved in a reliquary shaped like a hand.231 Numerous studies emphasize the role of reliquaries that looked like body parts when defining the bone which was inside. Often the reliquary had nothing to do with the shape of the bone. If the bone was, for example, a finger, but the reliquary had the shape of a leg, the relic was conceived of as the leg.232 In Thomas’s case the hand-bone seems to have been enclosed inside a hand-shaped reliquary. The relic and the reliquary may have become one and the same in the public consciousness and it is probable that when Thomas de Marchia ‘devotionally approached the hand, praying and kissing it’, he actually saw, touched, and tasted the reliquary.233 When the same hand-relic was at the Dominican Convent of Salerno, Antoninus of Florence (1389-1459), a famous Dominican reformer and later the Archbishop of Florence, is reported to have seen the hand still in an uncorrupted state as it had been before.234

228 For example, some pieces of bone as relics in Turku Cathedral (Finland) have remained inside small pouches. The pouches may have been inside a common reliquary. See an example of a portable altar of Saint Gertrude and pouches in Klein, 2011, catalogue no. 43. 229 On the materiality of relics inside a reliquary, see Montgomery, 2005, p. 2; Hahn, 1997, p. 28; Schmitt, 1999; Kessler, 2004, p. 34 and passim. 230 Neapoli XLVI: ‘dixit quod vidit eam cum pelle, carne, ossibus, nervis et unguibus integram, police tam carente’. 231 AGOP, Liber GGG, pars II, fol. 717v. 232 Hahn, 1997; Bynum, 2011, pp. 70-71. 233 Neapoli XLVI. 234 Antonino de Florencia, Tertia pars historiarum CXCIIIIv. Antoninus stayed as Prior of the Dominican house, San Pietro Martire, in Naples in 1420s.

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Of Thomas’s body parts, the hand-relic has received most attention. This was a consequence of two factors: first, the hand was donated to the Dominican Church of Salerno quite early, when the Order did not have other significant relics of Thomas. In addition, the donator, Tommaso di Sanseverino, was an important supporter of the Order. Secondly, for the Dominicans the relic was a perfect instrument to present as evidence that Thomas’s corpse had been incorruptible until the monks of Fossanova destroyed it by boiling it. The miraculous state of the hand-relic—its perfume and lack of corruption—is described again and again. For example, at Christmas in 1317 the relic was seen in Salerno by Thomas de Adversa, who wanted to smell it. Thomas explains that when he first saw the hand, he could not detect any odour. Despite this disappointment, he continued to venerate the hand. He was rewarded, as the hand began to diffuse the odour, which he could not describe properly, although it was very sweet and delicious (multum suavis et delectabilis).235 The importance of the odour is especially noteworthy in the papal bull which testifies of all three translations and of the wonderful scent which fulfilled the air when the tomb was opened. According to the bull, Thomas’s flesh was innocent, which resulted in good scent. Here, the delicious scent had profound, theological meaning: the odour was the most obvious and spectacular proof of Thomas’s virginity. The bull, however, does not make any reference to the appearance of the body, or to its uncorrupted state, contrary to the testimonies of the eye-witnesses.236 This may be because the uncorrupted appearance was not at the centre of doctrinal discussions when the odour was a more important topic as regards the substance of sanctity.237 Interestingly, when Raymundus Hugonis described Thomas’s remains in his draft version of the Historia translationis, he emphasized that the body was boiled and reduced to red-stained and bloody bones.238 In the final version, he was more explicit about the look of the relics and the cause of their red colour: it was a mark of the boiling and the violent separation of the flesh from the bones.239 Despite their appearance, evidence of the violence done to the corpse, the bones continued to emit the most delicate perfume. Repeating the stories of incorruptability and odour can be read as a confirmation of the saint’s continuing activity and his place in eternity. 235 Neapoli XCV. 236 Redemptionem misit V. 237 Cf. Cohn, 2000, p. 54. For a profound discussion on medieval consepts of sin, and stink as a reveling element of sin, see Linkinen, 2015, pp. 150-203 and passim. 238 Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, 113v. 239 Historia translationis, p. 85.

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These repeatedly emphasized features were important for the devotees when they sought a saint who could answer their needs. Thomas’s body lost its uncorrupted appearance, one sign of sanctity, but kept the odour, which referred constantly to Thomas’s virginity, and further to his sanctity. Thomas’s case suggests that the sense of smell had a primary position among the senses. The good perfume, as a bad smell would have been, appears to have been the most difficult sign to remove by earthly forces. The proof of this was the boiling, which made the odour the most trustworthy evidence of holiness. In sum, the individual relics became active, visible, and recognizable through miracles. Thomas’s body part relics were important to the everyday life of the laity. All bone relics, regardless of what part of Thomas’s body they were, cured illnesses from the same head and shoulder area. This suggests that for the laity contact with a bone-relic was important, but the name or shape of the relic was perhaps of secondary importance. In theory, a body part relic was as valuable and powerful as a whole corpse of a saint. 240 As such, the relics would have merited similar veneration and handling practices as the relic-corpse. Petitioners are described as having insisted that portable relics were brought to them, although it is worth noting that according to medieval theology a remedy was possible through veneration without the cultic object. 241 The benef iciaries of the miracles enacted through Thomas’s representative relics are mainly women, evidence that women needed the body part or secondary relics as a substitute for the access to Thomas’s tomb that was denied to them. Women specifically insisted on having contact with the relics. One of the petitioners, Petruccia, even asked to touch the relics because of the devotion she felt towards them (concepta deuotione ad sacras reliquias dicti sancti), rather than Thomas (his corpse) himself.242 Often the place of interaction between Thomas and women was the gate to the precinct of Fossanova. The conservation of the relics at the sacristy was functional: it was easy to take a relic to wherever it was needed. The reputation of an individual relic was not, however, connected to any specific location. Similar miracles through Thomas’s relics occurred at Fossanova, Sanseverino, Naples, and Salerno.

240 In practice, this was not the case as Robyn Malo shows through some English texts which place more value on entire bodies than on body part relics: Malo, 2013, pp. 27-56. 241 Krueger, 2011, p. 5. 242 Miracula CXX.

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Regarding Thomas’s relic cult, we can conclude that Thomas’s body parts attracted great reverence from clerics, friars, and laity. Both the whole body and the body parts were respected, but they were certainly perceived rather differently, as the experience of the relics was more direct than that of the corpse, which was out of sight inside the sarcophagus. In the lay imagination, Thomas’s tomb and the body part relics (or reliquaries) were probably associated because of their tangibility. The corpse itself remained a more abstract entity. This chapter has concentrated on the Cistercian monks and the description of the various practices that were decisive in making Thomas the Saint of Fossanova. Thomas’s tomb-shrine symbolized the centrality of his character to both the monks and the laity. For the monks, Thomas’s corporeal presence most probably functioned as the bridge to his thoughts and the scale in the meditation of the Divine Off ice. For the laity, the tomb was similarly a visible and tangible proof of Thomas’s presence at the monastery and the people of surrounding areas, as well as the monks themselves, sought Thomas’s help from the sepulchre. For the Monastery, Thomas’s presence was seemingly an important link in the larger Cistercian narrative tradition of the history of redemption; the monks possibly perceived the corpse as the treasure which most clearly indicated the presence of the Heavenly Jerusalem in Fossanova. The treasure value of Thomas’s dust for the monks is apparent from the body part donations, a matter which is studied further in the next chapter. Combining oral and literal tradition of the events and using the narrative elements for different aims formed colourful, layered stories on Thomas’s presence at the Monastery of Fossanova. The traditions also show how the Dominicans interpreted the Cistercian activity as disrespectful behaviour and denied that positive interaction between Thomas and the monastic family of Fossanova occurred. The narrative tradition of the dwelling place of Thomas’s corpse enables a researcher to interpret the meanings which were given to the relics, although not to find out exactly what had happened to the remains between 1274 and 1350.

3

Thomas’s Land—Praesentia among the Faithful

At the end of the thirteenth and during the first half of the fourteenth century, Thomas’s corpse was in the lands of the respectable Cistercian Monastery of Fossanova. The reputation of its thaumaturgic power had spread quickly around the neighbourhood, especially to towns and villages such as Priverno, Sonnino, Sezze, and Sermoneta. During the course of the fourteenth century, the cult spread throughout Europe, in particular among the Dominicans and university people. The lay cultic centre remained, however, in Southern Italy, in the area which I define as ‘Saint Thomas’s land’ or ‘Terra sancti Thomae’. The boundary of this area can be roughly drawn between Rome and Salerno along the Ernici Mountain chain.1 The most active centre of Thomas’s lay cult, however, was much smaller: it remained within a 10-kilometre radius of Thomas’s tomb in Fossanova (radius Priverno—Fossanova—Sonnino; see the Map). In this chapter, I study the interaction between Saint Thomas Aquinas and his devotees in the core of his cult area, as well as in devotional centres on the edge of the cultic zone. The focus is on the possibility to experience the Saint’s presence in a lay community and the practices that created it. The Saint’s material presence, that is, the relic or the whole body, was always at the centre of attention: in a monastery nearby, the presence was tangible and immediate. It is worth noting that when the Cistercians had Thomas’s corpse at their monastery they guided or even determined the form of the experience and chose those who were to be allowed contact with the corpse. The lay perception beyond the Monastery walls was not controllable in this way and different methods of experiencing and creating the praesentia outside the Monastery can be analysed from the source material. In some places studied in this section Thomas’s presence was material—that is, there were relics or other objects located there which reminded people of him. In some other places, the sources do not support the presence of a relic in the local community, but Thomas’s praesentia was nevertheless perceived strongly. It appears that narratives and prayers were effective in creating a presence that was also strongly connected to the corporeal themes. 1 In the Middle Ages, as well as in Italian scholarship today, more or less the same area is rather generally called Campania and Maritima: for more information, see Caciorgna, 1999, pp. 49-50.

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One of the main arguments of this chapter is that both memory and practices related to Thomas’s relics varied remarkably among the laity, even within a narrow area: Priverno, for example, is a special case, as Thomas became the Patron Saint of the town. From Sonnino and Sermoneta, I have traced some peculiar features that are not common to the other places where Thomas’s cult thrived.2 Besides their thaumaturgic powers, Thomas’s relics had a remarkable symbolic power in Southern Italian culture. There were also other means than relics to create symbols of Thomas’s presence in different places. Regardless of this, the desire for genuine relics is evident: laymen were ready to sell, buy, and guard them, even to cheat people out of them or steal them. The study of the localities makes it possible to assess the significance of the Saint’s remains in small villages and the everyday life of the common folk, as well as in the courts of the barons, the higher clergy and the King, where they functioned both as objects of devotion and as tools in their political strategies.3

Becoming the Patron Saint of Priverno Teodoro Valle, a Dominican friar originating from Priverno, wrote an extensive history of the town in the seventeenth century. At one point in the book, Valle describes the great joy which seized the people of Priverno and the monks of Fossanova when Thomas Aquinas was canonized. 4 It is interesting that the author portrays the laity and the monks as equally involved in the sustaining of Thomas’s memory. The description was written long after the event, but it is worth considering as a source that includes older documentary material as well as oral tradition about the history of Priverno. Here, it offers an interesting view of a shared, even bicentric, relic cult between Priverno and Fossanova. The canonization material gives the firm impression that Thomas’s tomb achieved immediate success as the place to go and ask for help among the people of Priverno. The witnesses of the canonization hearings describe numerous miracles that benefited the inhabitants of the nearby town, only five kilometres from the Monastery.5 Many of them testified. It seems likely 2 For a similar view on images of saints and their locally connected messages, Belting, 1996, p. 14. 3 On the socio-political structure of thirteenth- and fourteenth-century Southern Lazio and northern Campania see especially the studies of Maria Teresa Caciorgna and Sandro Carocci. 4 Valle 1646, p. 263. 5 The first miracles are reported as having occurred in the 1270s: Neapoli XXXVI, LXV. Altogether half of those who personally benefitted or testified to miracles mediated by Thomas were residents of Priverno.

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that there was a special relationship between Thomas, the Privernesi, that is, the dwellers of Priverno, and Fossanova from the very moment of Thomas’s death. Step by step, Thomas rose in stature in the town, first to become a civic saint whose cult was authorized by the commune, and then the Patron Saint of the Town after the official canonization.6 The importance of Thomas in Priverno is detectable from the ways that the town-dwellers created, experienced and handled his presence among themselves. The special relationship between Thomas Aquinas’s dead body and the people of Priveno was founded on the connection that Thomas had already had with the town when he was alive. For years Thomas’s secretary had been Raynaldus, who came from Priverno.7 It is also known that Thomas had a family and intellectual relationship with the monks of Fossanova, and he is likely to have visited the Monastery several times.8 At the beginning of the draft version of Historia translationis there is, indeed, a curious reference, which we have glimpsed already, to Thomas as a frequent sight in Priverno: [He] was very large; he was so mighty that due to the magnificence of his body he was called the ox of Sicily. And that is why the mother of his socius Raynaldus said that when people in the fields saw him, they forgot their work and came to him, not because of his nobility and sanctity, but because of an admiration of the impressiveness of his frame and human beauty.9

The text offers an insight into the lay view of Thomas before his death. In this lay culture, according to the quoted text, Raynaldus’s mother performed an important role as the repository of Thomas’s saintly memory.10 The Southern Italian tradition informs us that Thomas had a reputation among the laity of Priverno that could function as a basis for his cult in the town. The emphasis on the role of Raynaldus’s mother in the memory tradition is no 6 On the terminology and the whole phenomenon of civic saints, see a pioneering study which offers a general view of the patron saints of Italian city-states: Vauchez, 1993, p. 166 and passim. 7 Torrell, 1996; Weisheipl, 1983. 8 Neapoli XLIX, L; Ciammaruconi, 2002, pp. 15, 20-22. 9 Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, fol. 113v: ‘ex eo quod erat valde magnus dum vivebat, et adeo magnus quod propter sui corporis magnitudinem vocabatur bos Sicilie. Ideoque mater fratris Roginaldi socii sui dicebat quod vulgus dum esset in agriculturis dimittebat agriculturam ut videret eum, et occurrebat sibi obviam, tam magnam corporis quantitatem et pulchritudinem in humana specie admirantes, quia plus obviabant propter pulchritudinem quam propter sanctitatem, nec etiam nobilitatem’. Transcribed by Constant Mews. 10 I have discussed women—and Thomas’s kinswomen in particular—as memory repositories in Chapter I.

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coincidence: it demonstrates the longevity of the connection between the saint and the Privernese people.11 When tracing the historical background to Thomas’s special position in Priverno, the diversity in the relationship is notable. Priverno and Fossanova were connected not only through pastoral counselling but also through shared political, economic, and cultural experiences from the time of the foundation of the Monastery.12 It should also be borne in mind that the town and the Monastery did not always enjoy a warm relationship. They had been rivals in many political and economic matters after the foundation of Fossanova.13 It seems that the positive collaboration between Priverno and Fossanova was consolidated to some extent at the beginning of the fourteenth century. Thomas’s cult may have been an important factor in this. The picture which emerges from Thomas’s canonization hearings is that of a peaceful landscape where everyday communication was easy. The cult also appears to have been a catalyst for successful recruitment of personnel into the Monastery, and in a special way from Priverno (see the previous chapter). When communication in its different forms was augmented between Priverno and Fossanova, the recruits being a good example, detailed information about the events at Thomas’s tomb arrived in the town quickly and frequently. The monks and converses originating from Priverno, as well as workers or apprentices of the Monastery, promoted Thomas to their relatives and friends in the nearby villages.14 In addition to the personal network, the lay brothers of the Abbey met inhabitants of neighbouring villages when they worked in the fields of the Abbey. In these encounters they exchanged their knowledge on many things, not least about the miraculous events seen or heard at the Monastery.15 11 The memory of the connection between Raynaldus and Thomas seems to have been important for the people of Priverno. The best example is the tradition, probably both oral and literal, which emphasizes the foundation of the Dominican Church not only for the honour of Saint Thomas but also for the love of their co-citizens, Thomas’s socius, Raynaldus (Reginald), in 1331: Valle 1646, p. 264. 12 On cultural communication, see de Sanctis, 1990; Villetti, 1993. The Monastery offered education for local boys (for example apprentices), which benefited both the Monastery and a lay community: Neapoli XXVI; Fossanova XIV. 13 The lands of the Abbey were surrounded by the dominions of Priverno, and there were constant quarrels about the rights to graze sheep and to fish, as well as over the use of bridges, roads or waterways: Caciorgna, 2004. 14 To get a good picture of a large variety of different groups of medieval society, connected in one way or another to the Monastery, see the canonization hearings, Neapoli and Fossanova, and Ciammaruconi, 2002, pp. 47-60. 15 Miracula XLVII.

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The point here is that the existing relations between Priverno and Fossanova provided the communication channels for information about Thomas’s cult to spread. The personal connection between the people of Priverno and the Saint enabled the cult to achieve the popularity that it did among the laity. But even more important for the citizens was the location of Thomas’s tomb. Its closeness made it special among the holy places of the neighbourhood.16 To go deeper into the lay perception of these relics, we can consult the canonization hearings and ask who in Priverno vowed to Thomas, when, how, and in what circumstances they made the vow, and what their attitude to his corpse was. In the previous chapter, I contextualized the pilgrimage to the church space and control of the monastic community, but the focus here will be on Thomas’s presence in the Privernese imagination, actualized more by lay prerequisites. Thomas’s lay petitioners among the Privernesi were men, women, and children. They came from different professions and social backgrounds. A notable group of witnesses, for example, were specialists in medicine. 17 They testified about illnesses and cures of the people of Priverno, together with the petitioners themselves. The illnesses were typical of those cured by Thomas, especially blindness, fever, paralysis, and tumours. A great number of miracles occurred at Thomas’s tomb, although many cures also took place in Priverno. It appears that women benefited from the majority of the cures made at a distance from the tomb. This is unsurprising as we know that the access to Thomas’s tomb at Fossanova was denied to women. Likewise, there is a clear correlation between the place of cure and the time: most early miracles occurred at the tomb, but later the variety of places increased. Having read Thomas’s canonization processes, his Miracula, and some other miracle collections of saints, the suggestion that novelty was a significant reason for people to flock to a tomb of a recently died saint candidate is plausible. In addition to the novelty, there may have been doubts about the saint’s power and willingness to help without physical contact.18 After a while, the charm of the novelty wore off. A deep confidence in the saint’s capacities replaced it. At the same time the number of miracles at a distance from the tomb increased. However, this did not necessarily mean that the relics lost their significance in the lay devotion and imagination. 16 For example, when a life-threatening epidemic struck their community, the privernesi are said to have arrived in numbers at Thomas’s tomb, see Neapoli LXXXI. Boesch Gajano, 2003. 17 For the roles of doctors and surgeons in miracle stories, see Finucane, 1977, pp. 66-69. 18 For interesting collections of miracles performed by a recently deceased saint, see I miracoli di Antonio il Pellegrino di Padova. On the charm of novelty regarding the pilgrimage to saints’ tombs: Krötzl, 1994, pp. 21-22; Sigal, 1966, p. 1533.

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I agree with Odile Redon and Jacques Gélis that the need for a material presence of saints did not disappear in the Late Middle Ages.19 There were simply different degrees of materiality. For example, the people of Priverno already had an existing consciousness of the proximity of Thomas’s body as a form of material presence, and this may have given them confidence to pray to Thomas in their homes. The canonization material indicates that Thomas’s presence could be created by prayer, which was expressed at least sotto voce, wherever needed, not just in Priverno. The prayers were practically calling the saints by name and addressing them directly, a mechanism that was probably intended to create an almost tangible presence of the saint in the mind.20 There are also examples in other contexts in which naming the relics of saints was a part of a ritual to activate their praesentia and potentia.21 One example indicating the power of prayer to create a tangible, even physical connection to the saint may be the miracle story of Petrus Letus that we have already examined in the previous chapter. As we remember, Petrus, a notary from Priverno, was not able to speak and he wrote instructions that he should be carried to the tomb where a mass was also to be paid for at the high altar. The mass was chanted while he stayed and he was cured at the sepulchre next to the altar.22 Petrus could not use his voice to call and pray, presumably a compelling reason why he felt obliged to go to the tomb and make contact with Thomas. At Fossanova he was in bodily contact with the saint, lying on the tomb while the mass paid for by him compensated for his own inability to activate the saint by calling on him. Through prayer, a meditative practice, it seems it was possible to sense the saint’s presence and perceive his or her corpse in a similar way as through certain actions at the tomb. Moreover, several miracle stories attest to petitioners who called on Thomas to help them in the presence of his representative relics. In these situations, the secondary relics, like rosaries which had touched Thomas’s tomb, had an instrumental role in creating the bodily presence of the saint and a physical connection between the 19 Recently, a famous advocate of this and materiality has been Caroline Walker Bynum, see especially Bynum, 2011. 20 See for example Fossanova LXXVII. As for women mystics, it was possible and desirable to achieve a mystical union with the body of Christ (see for example Vauchez, 1982), we could perhaps approach the lay imagination and its capacity to create the connection to the saintly body from the same premise. For the capacity to use imaginative pictures in medieval lay and clerical culture and associated practices: Bynum, 2011, pp. 101-112; Carruthers, 2000, pp. 72-77 and passim. On bodily postures of prayer to achieve Christ’s presence in the lay culture of medieval Italy: Lehmijoki-Gardner, 2005, pp. 16-18. 21 Cordez, 2006. 22 Fossanova LXXXI, CXXIII, CXXVIII.

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petitioner and the saint during the invocation.23 In Privernesi cases it seems, however, that increasingly widespread devotional activities—petitions made at home, prayers, and the like, performed without representative relics or images—were strong enough to make Thomas’s presence more intense, tangible, and real throughout the town. The intensity of Thomas’s presence in Priverno, the image of which appears in the numerous petitions made in homes, is testimony to his increased status there. My suggestion is that as Thomas’s immaterial presence intensified through the devotional practices in Priverno, the desire for his relics also increased among the people. Thus, the need for a material presence can be seen as a circular process: in the cult’s early stages, lay devotion was firmly connected to the Saint’s tomb. Under certain conditions the devotion spread and the saint’s thaumaturgic power was possible to reach from a distance. If the devotion then became intense enough in a certain place, it may have given rise to a feeling that such a powerful cult required the physical presence of a relic within the devotional community, as happened in Priverno. At the same time, as devotion of Thomas intensified, he probably rose spontaneously to become a special protector of Priverno. Very likely, on an unknown date before the official canonization, he was accepted as a civic saint of Priverno by the town-dwellers without official ecclesiastical approval. Thomas’s ability and willingness to help the people of Priverno regardless of their status, age, or sex, as well as the many forms of interaction between him and the laity, gives confirmation of this claim. The experience in many other Italian towns where the phenomenon has been studied was similar.24 In previous scholarship and historiography opinions about the date of Thomas’s nomination as the Civic Saint or Patron Saint of Priverno vary considerably. The early option was favoured by Chiara Mercuri, although she did not specify the date when discussing Thomas’s status there.25 Much early historiography supports the idea that Thomas’s achievement of this rank was connected to a new Dominican convent founded in Priverno at the beginning of the 1330s.26 Edmondo Angelini dates the nomination as late as the sixteenth century.27 His view may be based on the first surviving source 23 24 25 26 27

Neapoli XVIII; Miracula XXXIX. Vauchez, 1993. Mercuri, 2003, pp. 197-199. Valle, 1646, p. 204. Angelini, 1998, p. 224.

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that relates the orders to celebrate Thomas in Priverno.28 Today, Italian scholars examining the religious culture of South Lazio decry Angelini’s opinion as far too rigid.29 Contemporary scholarship gives more space for other types of sources and information than was previously the case. For example, the hagiography and the oral tradition regarding devotional practices are taken more seriously. Both source types emphasize the position Thomas achieved in Priverno at the end of the thirteenth century. The change of government that occurred in Priverno in the 1270s may well have been significant as far as Thomas’s patronage was concerned.30 Priverno was dominated by the counts of Ceccano until then.31 The influence of the family remained strong, but the new freedom the town achieved was remarkable in many ways. Saint Peter was the old Patron Saint of the Town, and it is likely that the new government instigated his replacement. At the same time that the commune was removing a symbol of the old regime, it seems plausible that the da Ceccano family was promoting Thomas’s cult at the Monastery, as we have learned previously from the acts of Francesca, Thomas’s niece, and possibly also in Priverno, the aim possibly being the protection and promotion of family interests in both places.32 The changing of the patron saint in Priverno was, however, not merely ‘a local question’. Culturally and politically South Lazio, the area where Priverno was located, was traditionally under the dominion of Rome. This can be seen, for example, in its cultic life; the patron of most of towns and villages was Saint Peter.33 From the twelfth century onwards, the popes also exerted strong political control over the frontier regions of the Papal States. In this development, Fossanova had a central role: it was a spiritual and political guardian and acted as papal adjudicator in the quarrels and 28 A statute of the town from 1573: Floridi, 1985, p. 236. 29 Cf. Caciorgna, 2000, p. 359; Barone, 2000, p. 168. 30 Boesch Gajano, 2003. According to André Vauchez, in the Late Middle Ages it was common for towns, especially small ones, to look for new saints: Vauchez, 1993, p. 168. 31 Floridi, 1985, pp. 228-229. The town again lost its independence in the 1380s to Count Honoratus of Fondi: Angelini, 1998, p. 173. 32 On the symbolical meaning of the patron saint for institutional identity, as well as in the foreign policy of medieval communes: Caciorgna, 1996, pp. 295-297. A good example of the political role of the patron saints can be found in a peace treaty between Priverno and Sezze, a nearby town, in the year 1275. In the statues of Sezze, it explains how four men of Priverno represented the commune every year in the festivities of the feast day of the patron saint of Sezze, Saint Lidano, in Sezze. Correspondingly, Sezze sent four representatives of the commune to Priverno when the day of its patron saint, Peter, was celebrated. On the relationship between the two towns, see Caciorgna, 2000, p. 353. 33 On the cultic development of South Lazio, see Caciorgna, 2000. On the mendicant orders especially, see Pellegrini, 1986; Vitolo, 2000 and 1998; Barone, 2000 and 2004.

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alliances of local lords. It is also plausible that both Priverno and Fossanova were connected to the Holy See through the da Ceccano family, who acted as faithful servants of the papacy. The family had a firm position in both places and their influence on such an important issue as changing the town protector sounds probable. The earliest written documentation of Thomas as the Civic Saint of Priverno can be found from the Dominican Historia translationis corporis s. Thome de Aquino text genre (written around 1370). According to the Dominican writers, as we have already learned, the monks of Fossanova separated Thomas’s head from the body around the years 1303-1304. An unedited manuscript version of Raymundus Hugonis’s Historia translationis offers interesting information as it explains that after the separation the head was translated to Priverno, where it was celebrated with the solemnities apposite to a civic saint.34 Following Constant Mews’ suggestion, I regard this unedited text as a draft version of Historia translationis corporis sancti Thome de Aquino (often shortened as ‘the draft version’). The naming is based on Mews’ studies of the manuscripts in Bologna and Toulouse, as well as the edited version in Acta sanctorum and Douais. These two manuscripts are the only known manuscript versions of Historia translationis. Mews has convincingly shown that the manuscript of Bologna is an earlier version of the Toulouse manuscript, that used for the edition.35 It is quite clear that the draft follows the South Italian tradition, as Raymundus names Thomas de Sulmona, a socius of Philippus de Theate, the Provincial of the Province of the Kingdom of Sicily, as his informant on the events that happened before the translation of the relics to France in 1368-1369, the main topic of Historia translationis text. In the draft version the paragraph on Priverno reads as follows: The monks separated the sacred head from the corpse and gave it into the hands of the town-dwellers of Priverno. Their town, Priverno, was two miles from Fossanova. There the head was placed in the Abbot’s house, 34 Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A. On the manuscript as a whole: Laurent, 1940b. The manuscript has been studied by several scholars with regard to individual saints’ lives, including Maria of Venice, Margaret of Hungary, Margherita of Città di Castello, and Venturino of Bergamo: Sorelli, 1984; Klaniczay, 1995; Laurent, 1940b; Grion, 1956. 35 I am indebted to Professor Mews for sharing his information regarding the manuscripts of the Ms. A in Bologna and the Ms. 610 in Toulouse. He has kindly shared his notes and transcription of the as-yet unedited text of Ms. A. My citations are from this transcription, unless otherwise mentioned. If I refer to the edited version, I call it Historia translationis. I use the edition of Douais, which is a more exact transliteration from the Toulouse manuscript than the version in AASS or Percin 1693. For more detailed information on the editions, see the Bibliography.

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which belonged to the possessions of the Monastery in Priverno. The Abbot had one key, the cellarer another, and three meliores of the town had one key each, thus there were five keys in total. Among the town-dwellers the possessor of the key was changed every month. The possessors were chosen with diligence. The head was not displayed without at least forty armed men present. That place was strong and it was protected by 3000 armed infantrymen.36

Let us first analyse the role of the three men of Priverno, each of whom kept one key to the place where Thomas’s head was located. Every month, the custodians of the keys were changed. On a literal level, the arrangement seems to refer to the security of the head-relic, as five persons had to be present to open the place where the relic was. Such arrangements are common in medieval literature.37 However, the passage also gives information about the government of the commune of Priverno. The tres meliores de villa is a reference to the ruling system of the commune and to the choosing of the key-holders from among the ruling group.38 The later version of the text, Toulouse Ms. 610, provides an even clearer reference to the government of the commune, who kept one key: ‘the other [key was kept] by the podestà of Priverno or the council’ (aliam potestas de piperno vel consilium).39 This system of shared keys was not 36 Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, fols. 113v-114r: ‘monachi separaverunt sacrum capud a corpore et posuerunt ipsum in manibus civium Pipernentium, quorum civitas scilicet Pipernum distat a Fossa nova per duo milaria, et ibi fuit positum in camera abbatis quia locus de Piperno quasi erat de abbatia. Abbas tenebat unam clavem, selararius aliam et tres meliores de villa tenebant similiter quilibet suam, cum essent quinque in numero. Tamen isti tres de villa omni mense mutabantur, cum maxima diligentia eligebantur a populo communi; nec caput ostendebatur quin essent ad minus quadraginta homines armorum de villa presentes. Ille locus erat bene potens, et adhuc possent exire tria milia hominum peditum armorum’. In the version of Toulouse Raymundus omits the whole story about Priverno, from the beginning of the text: Bibliothèque municipale, Ms. 610, p. 2. Later, however, he provides information on the new location and the custodians of the head relic. 37 Typical are descriptions in which the security of saintly corpses in their tombs is emphasized by describing the iron tools which were necessary for opening the sepulchre. The description can be found in the material relating both to Saint Dominic and Saint Thomas: Relatio Juridica 34; Ystoria LXVI. 38 Benedetto Vetere defines the term ‘meliores’ on the basis of the classical term ‘àristos’. This means better capacity, and in this particular context, better capacity to take care of collective matters, thus to govern a commune. It seems that three to five meliores were often chosen, or in some other way named officials of the commune, for special tasks: Vetere, 1997, pp. 72-74. For a classic study of the government of the Italian medium-sized city-republics: Waley, 1978. 39 Bibliothèque municipal, Ms. 610, p. 18. The references show that Priverno was governed on the model developed by the towns in Central and Northern Italy when they became

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unique in the commune of Priverno; for example, the three keys of the town archives were also distributed between the men of the town. 40 Both cases tell of a powerful sense of identity of a young commune, sustained by the local and civic saint as well as the archival memory of the town. The draft version even emphasizes the cohesion and freedom with the words: ‘They gave [the head] into the hands of the citizens of Priverno’. 41 The use of the most distinguished representatives of the town as the possessors of the keys to the place where Thomas’s head reliquary was kept gives unequivocal testimony to Thomas’s role as the Civic/Patron Saint of the Town. The information about the transportation of Thomas’s head to Priverno is, in general terms, contradictory. 42 The Dominicans insist on 1303-1304, but according to many witnesses in the canonization process, including monks and laypeople of both sexes, Thomas’s head was still located in the sacristy of Fossanova in 1319. For example, in 1319 Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis stated clearly in front of the papal inquisitors that the head was separated from Thomas’s corpse, but added that it was still safe in the sacristy of the Monastery. 43 As regards medieval relic donations and translations, and especially the head-relics, it is possible that only a part of Thomas’s head was transported to the church of San Benedetto in Priverno, owned by Fossanova (it was not the Abbot’s house, as the draft version would suggest). 44 On the other hand, in her consideration of the place in Priverno where the head was transported, Elisa Parziale suggests that the church, though owned by the Abbey, was maintained by regular clerics until 1331-1333. Only after this date are there signs of a monastic congregation

free communes earlier in the High Middle Ages. Unfortunately, the medieval statute of the commune of Priverno has not survived, and any more accurate picture of its government is diff icult. 40 Floridi, 1985, p. 236. On the importance of archives and documentary practices to collective identity in the Middle Ages, see Bedos-Rezak, 1994, pp. 45-46. Sharing keys of reliquaries also seems to have been a common habit, or topos, without doubt a method of emphasizing the security and authencity of relics. Moreover, the key holder had control over the relics and their display, which had great importance for establishing civic cults: Kerbrat, 1995, 166; Golinelli, 2000, pp. 255-256. 41 Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, fol. 113: ‘posuerunt ipsum in manibus civium Pipernentium’. 42 According to Teodoro Valle, for example, Thomas’s head relic was transferred to Priverno as early as 1288: Valle 1646, p. 230. Elisa Parziale has followed Valle’s dating: Parziale, 2007, p. 131. 43 Neapoli LIV. 44 On head-relics and duplicates: Nilson, 2001, pp. 54-56. On the separation of Saint Andrew’s head into two pieces by Pope Pius II: May 2012, pp. 112-113.

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living there. 45 It is probable that these monks brought Thomas’s head-relic with them when they arrived.46 After the canonization, the Monastery of Fossanova was certainly not willing to surrender Thomas. It was the guardian of an officially canonized saint, something that not every monastery could boast of. The monks had also worked hard to achieve this canonization. Yet, despite their probable objection, the monks were forced into a relic donation. Women in particular were probably displeased with the initial arrangement whereby all Thomas’s relics were held at Fossanova, as it will be recalled that they were denied access to Thomas’s tomb. The canonization reports reflect a situation in which the Privernesi women crowded around the main gate of the Monastery. Some of them waited for portable relics to be carried to them, while others, in the company of female relatives and friends, waited for their husbands and children to return from the tomb where they had been praying for a miraculous cure. As a result of Privernese pressure, or because Fossanova wanted to promote Thomas’s presence in the city, the monks seem to have donated Thomas’s relics to the town during the period leading up to the canonization. According to a witness of Fossanova, Lea Pennazola, some of Thomas’s relics were placed on the high altar of the church of Santa Maria of Piperno, the Cathedral of the city, around the year 1320. 47 The description is, unfortunately, rather vague; it does not, for example, specify whether the relics were body parts or not. Nevertheless, it is indicative of the great importance attached to Thomas in Priverno. This can be read from the location, the most important church of the city, the Cathedral, and its holiest place, the high altar. 48 This location at the main altar of the duomo also gives a hint that the relics were not secondary, but more valuable body parts. The transfer of the relics to Priverno may mark the sealing of a long existing interactive relationship between the town and Thomas by his elevation to the rank of the civic saints. 45 Parziale has focused on the adjustments to the building complex, and dates the work in the area of the presbytery to 1288. The dating follows Teodoro Valle’s opinion that the translation of Thomas’s head relic to the place occurred in 1288. Parziale states that the purpose of the work was twofold: to secure the valuable relic, and to provide the pilgrims with access to it. She is undoubtedly correct in her analysis of the restructuring of the church, but the dating based on Valle is erroneous. It is more likely that the adjustment works were organized to respond to the needs of the monks of Fossanova when they took the building into their use in 1331-1333: Parziale, 2007, pp. 126-132. 46 Angelini, 1998, p. 218-219. 47 Fossanova CII, XCIX, LXXXIII. 48 On the significance of the cathedral in the medieval religious experience, see Vauchez, 2003, pp. 193-209.

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After Thomas was canonized and became patron of the town, a far more valuable relic than those nameless pieces which were allegedly placed on the high altar of the Cathedral was needed. The draft version of the Historia translation text offers a glimpse of the difficult situation: on the one hand, it says that the head-relic was given to the people of Priverno, but on the other, it makes it clear that ‘There the head was placed in the Abbot’s house, which belonged to the possessions of the Monastery in Priverno’. 49 The pressure to make this new arrangement presumably came from two directions, from the officials of the commune, and especially from the people of Priverno, who sustained Thomas’s open and material presence among them as necessary for their devotional practices.50 Fossanova did not, however, surrender control over Thomas’s head-relic, or the relic cult, entirely to the town. A sign of the Abbey’s partial control is the placement of the head-relic at the church, which was in the possession of Fossanova, and to which the Abbot and cellarer had keys alongside the town-dwellers. This arrangement appears to be a compromise between Priverno and Fossanova. How Thomas’s head was observed at San Benedetto is an interesting question. In the local context in Priverno, the strong connection between the head, transported to the town, and Fossanova, was expressed through visible media, such as architecture and the reliquary. With recent renovations San Benedetto became the home of the relic, a sort of reliquary.51 The church-reliquary, then, guarded its treasure efficiently, in addition to emphasizing its value. In all probability, the church served the devotional practices of the inhabitants of the town as well as pilgrims from elsewhere.52 The architectural settings were organized to protect the head but not to block the flow of devotees who wished to venerate the relic. The Historia translationis texts emphasized, as we have seen, the inaccessibility of the relic, which is clear from the key arrangements. At first glance the keys give the impression that the place where the relic was hidden was locked for most of the time. However, other functions of the keys should be considered: the shared responsibility for Thomas’s cult in Priverno and their symbolic value. According to Valle, San Benedetto, together with four other churches, functioned as a parish church and a place for pastoral counselling of the laity in Priverno.53 There is an interesting, albeit late, description of para49 Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, fol. 113v. 50 For an interesting article about lay devotion of saints’ relics, see Bozoky, 2005, pp. 397-417. 51 Parziale, 2007, pp. 126-132. 52 Valle also describes San Benedetto as a famous pilgrimage site for Thomas’s devotees: Valle 1646, p. 233. More recently: Mercuri, 2003. 53 Valle 1646, p. 233.

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liturgical and communal activities performed in San Benedetto in Valle’s book. Valle describes how in situations of emergency different relics from the rich collection of the church were placed on the high altar. The relics were exposed in fine crystal bowls, and all the people of Priverno arrived in procession at the church to venerate them. Among the relics, there was one of Saint Thomas Aquinas. According to Valle, potentially disastrous situations were resolved with the help of these saints. Valle’s text is late, but not to be totally disregarded when it comes to models of communicating with saints and experiencing them.54 The monks of San Benedetto probably hoped to retain the Cistercian association with the veneration of Thomas’s head-relic. The most efficient means to this purpose were the Cistercian liturgy and other devotional forms practiced in the church, as the street viewing was reserved for civic festivities. A reliquary that contained Thomas’s head probably had a great symbolical role in emphasizing Thomas’s Cistercian nature. After all, it was the container, the reliquary, which gave an image and an identity to the body parts.55 The Cistercians had presumably commissioned the silver reliquary for the head at the time when the relic was lodged in the sacristy of the Monastery.56 The relic was then translated to Priverno in the very same reliquary. The Privernese laity may have seen the reliquary already if they had asked for Thomas’s relics to be present when they went to Fossanova to petition Thomas’s help for their problems. Although the object was probably familiar and it may have radiated the Cistercian spirit, the Privernese devotees perceived it differently once it was in its new place.57 The Cistercian Order was in a state of profound change from the end of the thirteenth century onwards, and it is plausible that the mission of the monastic community in San Benedetto was largely the maintenance of Thomas’s relic cult among the laity.58 Possibly, in an era when the Cistercian Order was losing respect, the mother house of Fossanova hoped to prevent a continuing diminution of the once leading spiritual role that the Cistercian Order had enjoyed. 54 Valle 1646, pp. 35-38. 55 For a reliquary which constitutes the identity and the power of the relic, see Hahn, 1997, pp. 20-31. 56 Douais, 1903, pp. 79-81. 57 As I discussed in the previous chapter, a reliquary gave a shape and identity to a relic, but a new community gave it significance and meaning, as Patrick Geary has claimed when discussing the translations of saints’ relics: Geary, 1990. The connectivity of place and object for the interpretation of image, for example, has emphasized Belting, 1996, p. 353. 58 Paolo Grillo has studied a similar phenomenon, the Cistercian house as a home of civic cults in Milan and its consequences in the religious life of the Town: Grillo, 2008, p. 217-223.

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It is likely that in the fourteenth century, the commune would organize primarily outdoor festivities to celebrate their civic saint Thomas with the head-relic.59 The draft of the Historia translationis offers a glimpse of the festive atmosphere in the streets of Priverno on those days when Thomas’s head-relic was taken out from the church. This mass celebration happened at least once a year, on Thomas’s feast day on 7 March. A later source, a statute from the year 1573, tells that Thomas’s festivities lasted for five days, from 5 to 9 March. In that period there were no juridical processes and collection of customs tolls, taxes, and similar payments (gabelle) was forbidden.60 It is very possible that the people of fourteenth-century Priverno celebrated the (then) new patron saint with a similar enthusiasm and solemnity as their successors in the sixteenth century.61 When Priverno was released from the dominion of the da Ceccano family, the celebration of the feast days of saints probably became a symbol of the independence of the town, as happened elsewhere in the same area.62 The symbolic language of the festivities and their narrative clearly emphasized civic power through the armed guardians which the commune had appointed to safeguard the relic. The purpose of the feast in the streets was to assemble the whole town without exception. The feast would have resonated with the sense of community of the people and strengthened the civic identity of Priverno.63 Thomas Aquinas became a special protector of the town of Priverno. Thomas’s ability to offer help with different kinds of problems as well as his popularity in the different layers of the community indicates his importance in Priverno. The fact that in the canonization hearings the great majority of beneficiaries and witnesses were from Priverno tell us of the special significance that Thomas’s canonization gave to the town. In addition to the surviving traces of Thomas’s cult, it may be assumed that the 59 Vauchez, 1993, p. 157. On the space of the festivities, Webb, 1996, pp. 205. 60 Floridi, 1985, p. 236. In Florence, Thomas’s feast day was a public holiday from 1325 onwards, by order of Robert of Naples: Webb, 1996, p. 110. It was common to organize processions, fairs, markets, races and other entertainments on the most important feast days: Webb, 1996, pp. 25, 111; Wilson, 1983, p. 24; Goodich, 1995, p. 123. 61 For similar examples from fourteenth-century Lucca, see Webb, 1996, p. 96. 62 Scholars have emphasized the strictness with which the barons of the Papal States ruled their lands and subordinates. This has been seen as affecting the religious life of the laity, which had no spiritual space or free time to celebrate feast days of saints: for example, Barone, 2000, p. 169. 63 Francesco Bruni emphasizes the roles of relics in the ways that an Italian community represented itself officially and publicly. He reminds us of the significance of the narratives concerning the patron saint and the civic identity: Bruni, 1999, p. 267. See also Webb, 1996, pp. 135-140; Goodich, 1995, p. 123.

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hearings represent only a sample of the devotional activity around his tomb in the thirteenth century. Many of the early memories were already lost at the time of canonization. The seventeenth-century description of Teodoro Valle, which I mentioned earlier in this section, proves to have preserved memories of the early stage of Thomas’s cult when he claims that there was equal joy about Thomas’s canonization in Priverno and Fossanova. Thomas’s cult became bicentric, both Priverno and Fossanova sustaining it. In retrospect, we can see that step by step, Fossanova was losing out in the competition for Thomas’s remains and cult, the translation of the symbolically important head-relic to Priverno being the first step.64 Priverno has remained Thomas’s city, just as Thomas Aquinas is still the patron of the town. The Cathedral has an important collection of Thomas’s relics: one head (another head is in Toulouse), and three ampullas of Thomas’s fat and blood.65 The head and ampullas were found at Fossanova in 1585 and 1772, and transported to Priverno in 1810.66Another tale and a topic for further research would be Thomas’s continuing presence in Priverno and Fossanova after the translation of Thomas’s relic casket to Toulouse in 1368-1369.

Rays of sainthood around Fossanova Besides Priverno, Thomas became popular in other towns and villages surrounding Fossanova, the most prominent being Sonnino, Terracina, Sermoneta, and Sezze (see the map). This emerges from two processes of the canonization hearings. The hearings reveal that more than half the people (c. 56 per cent) who testified or benefited from Thomas’s miracle, or were simply mentioned as eye-witnesses to the miracles, originated from Priverno. The next largest group, about one fifth, consisted of people from Sonnino. Then came Neapolitans, and inhabitants of Terracina, Sermoneta, and Sezze. Priverno, to the north, and Sonnino, to the southeast, are the nearest villages to Fossanova, both five kilometres from the Monastery. In the next circle out after Priverno and Sonnino we find Sezze, some twenty kilometres from Fossanova, and Sermoneta, approximately thirty kilometres to the north-west of Fossanova. In the opposite direction, 64 According to Angelini, 1998, p. 224, this period was prosperous for the town of Priverno. Regarding Fossanova, scholars are in agreement that a period of decadence began in the early fourteenth century: Parziale, 2007, pp. 53-56. 65 Magnoni Valenti, 1772. Among other things, Valenti reports that Thomas’s head was found in Fossanova in the sixteenth century and explains that the one sent to Toulouse was false. 66 Caliò, 2005, p. 84.

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Terracina is some twenty kilometres from the Monastery. Naples is in the same direction as Terracina, but is situated some five days’ travel from Fossanova. Apart from those from this area, the centre of Thomas’s cult, there were isolated witnesses or beneficiaries of miracles (more than one person) from Aversa, Brescia, Capua, Castro Iuliano (probably Giuliano di Roma), Ferentino, Fondi, Gaeta, Lucca, Montesangiovanni (today Monte san Giovanni Campano), Naples, Piperno (today Priverno), Roccasecca, Rome, Salerno, S. Lorenzo della Valle (today Amaseno), Sanseverino (today Mercato di Sanseverino), and Teano. Then there are mentions of individuals from such villages as Carpineto, Frosinone, Rieti, and Sora. Thus, the most active region of the cult was clearly around Fossanova, following the course of the Via Pedemontana.67 In the previous section about Priverno, I argued that the material presence of a saint was important in late medieval culture. Among the crucial factors for the translation of Thomas’s relics to Priverno were the requirements of lay devotion. Keeping these arguments in mind, I can now turn to Thomas’s material or immaterial presence in the light of lay devotion in the other communities close to Fossanova. Thomas’s cult was successful in these places, and especially in Sonnino. Nevertheless, the communities did not receive body parts from Thomas’s corpse to venerate in the local churches. The question is whether a location in close geographical proximity to the tomb was sufficient for a strong lay perception of Thomas to develop. Moreover, did the devotional spirit, clearly intense, make Thomas’s presence in Sonnono or Sermoneta, for example, as powerful as a material symbol would have done? Or were there some types of para-relics, a form of materiality, that were essential for lay devotion? What we do know is that many laypeople from the towns and villages close to Fossanova chose Thomas as the saint whose help they needed and were not disappointed, as shown by the large number of lay witnesses at the hearings. From the numbers, it might be concluded that Thomas became progressively less popular as the distance from Fossanova increased. It is undeniable that Priverno and Sonnino are the villages closest to Fossanova and that the majority of witnessed miracles occurred in or very close to these places. On the other hand, it should be remembered that the second process was held at the Monastery of Fossanova, which without doubt encouraged the people from Priverno and Sonnino to show up and give their testimonies. 67 It is important to note that the course of Via Appia of this area in South Lazio (Pontine march) was impassable at the end of the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth century. See the map for more detail.

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There are also other villages (mostly castra) almost as close to Fossanova as Priverno and Sonnino (for example Maenza, Amaseno, Fondi), and definitely closer than Sermoneta or Terracina (to mention just a few), so distance alone cannot provide the explanation for Thomas’s greater success in some villages than in others. As noted above, the feature that the ‘Thomas villages’ have in common is their location on or near the Via Pedemontana, one of two main roads between Rome and Naples in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The road was frequented by officials of different polities and communities—ecclesiastical sees, kingdoms, religious orders, and so on—not to mention merchants and pilgrims. Among the above-mentioned villages, those travelling south from Rome reached Sermoneta, Sezze, Priverno, Fossanova, Terracina, and finally Naples. Sonnino was some kilometres away from the road. Often a final destination of a group of pilgrims was another holy place or shrine, for example Santiago de Compostela in one direction, and Jerusalem in the other.68 Other travellers would also pass Priverno, and many were interested in stopping at Thomas’s shrine at Fossanova.69 As the result of the movements of these travellers, the information on Thomas’s miracles spread easily from one of these places to the next. If we can judge by the canonization reports, the impact of Thomas’s tomb does not seem to have been as significant in other villages or castra as it was in those along the Pedemontana. Nevertheless, the general cultural impact of Fossanova diffused around a much wider area.70 The influence of the Cistercian Monastery is easily recognizable in the architecture of Sant’Angeli of Sermoneta (today San Michele Arcangelo) and the Cathedrals of Sermoneta and Sora, Santa Maria in Fulmine, San Nicola of Ceccano, and San Pietro of Fondi, to mention but a few structures.71 The powerful influence of the Cistercian and Fossanova style has widely been interpreted as a clear mark of reciprocal communication between Fossanova and its neighbourhood.72 68 Coste, 1999; Bozzoni, 1999. 69 Theodoro Valle refers to the large group of pilgrims who visited San Benedetto to see Thomas’s head-relic: Valle 1646, p. 234. There are no surviving lists of miracles from Fossanova that were remembered as performed on passers-by, typical near some medieval shrines: cf. Finucane, 1977. Nor have the excavations in Fossanova revealed proper gifts for Thomas which could tell more about the extent of the pilgrimage. The gifts, according to written sources, were mainly in silver or wax, both of which were recycled. Alternatively, wax objects may have decomposed. A reconstruction of Thomas’s tomb with the offerings: De Rossi, 2013, p. 50. 70 Barone, 1999, p. 81. 71 De Sanctis, 1990. According to de Sanctis, especially the above mentioned cathedrals follow the architectural models of Valviscolo, the daughter-house of Fossanova. 72 Mihályi, 1999, p. 473.

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Besides the impact on architecture, Fossanova had extensive estates in South Italy. It had daughter-houses, granges, parish churches, houses, and other dependents on its lands.73 Among the daughter-houses Santo Spirito di Zannone, near Gaeta, and Maria di Corazzo in Calabria have already been mentioned. From both places, information on Thomas’s cult and liturgy has survived, even in the everyday life of the monks.74 Although we know of the interaction between the monks and the laity and we have knowledge of Cistercian activity to promote Thomas’s cult, it is difficult to find signs of Thomas’s cult in South Lazio beyond the route of the Via Pedemontana. Recruitment of monastic personnel is one factor that can be used to gauge the impact of Thomas’s presence, and that of his tomb, in towns and villages close to the Pedemontana. Previously in this work, I have argued that Thomas’s cult in Fossanova and Priverno brought a considerable increase in recruitment of monks from Priverno. However, although Thomas seems to have been popular in several nearby villages and towns—such as Sonnino, Terracina, and Sermoneta—there is no evidence that Fossanova gained a significant number of recruits from them in the early fourteenth century. Clemente Ciammaruconi has come up with some numbers based on the material from three inquisitorial hearings: there were two monks from Sonnino in 1284, and none in 1319 or 1321.75 From Sezze and Sermoneta, there were no monks, converses, or oblates mentioned in 1284.76 There was one monk originally from Terracina in 1284, and still one in 1319-1321. Ciammaruconi considers the low number of recruits from the near villages surprising, especially from Sezze. He relates this to the work of Caciorgna, who has calculated that Sezze was a relatively large town in 1279 with c. 4000 inhabitants. Ciammaruconi assumes that the Monastery of Valviscolo near to Sermoneta, the affiliate of Fossanova, affected recruitment to the mother house.77 It is not impossible that some of Thomas’s devotees joined Cistercian houses other than Fossanova, as Thomas presumably belonged in the liturgy of all of the nearby houses. If that were the case, the tomb 73 Parziale, 2007. 74 See the previous chapter. On the history of Santo Spirito, see Fasolo, 1966. 75 Ciammaruconi, 2002, p. 50. Leo de Sompnino, a monk, is, however, mentioned in the hearings, Fossanova XLVII, as well as Iacobus de Sompnino, an apprentice of a blacksmith, Neapoli XXVI. 76 Ciammaruconi, 2002, pp. 50-51. Nicolaus de Sectia, from Sezze is, in fact, mentioned in Neapoli XXIV. 77 It is difficult to analyse further the area of recruitment of Valviscolo, because there are no sources whatsoever: Ciammaruconi, 2002, p. 51. See also: Ciammaruconi, 1991; de Sanctis, 1990; Ployer Mione, 1999.

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itself could not have been attracting recruits, which in turn would call into question its power as a focus of devotion. Even more surprising than the lack of recruits is the complete lack of lay witnesses from Sezze in Thomas’s canonization hearings.78 Sezze was sufficiently close—c. fifteen kilometres from Fossanova—for the impact of Thomas’s tomb to be perceivable, and the journey would not have been difficult for any witnesses. Besides, the contacts between Sezze, Fossanova, and Priverno were, in general, versatile.79 At the same time, interaction between two free communes was not always positive or friendly.80 From the viewpoint of Priverno, Sezze may have seemed a rival, and it is therefore possible that Priverno discouraged pilgrimage from Sezze to Fossanova. Since Priverno was situated between Sezze and Fossanova, it would have been easy to obstruct the route to the Monastery if it so wanted, even by physical means. This would not have been a novelty: for example, at the beginning of the thirteenth century, Priverno tried to prevent the entry of the signori of Sonnino to the Via Pedemontana, the public route. At that time, Pope Honorius III had prohibited the acts of Priverno.81 In addition to the political and economic factors at the beginning of the fourteenth century, Sezze had its own patron saint, then at the height of his popularity.82 The town-dwellers may have had neither the need nor the will to turn to Thomas, labelled as Priverno’s saint. Sonnino Unlike Sezze, Sonnino and Sermoneta were dominated by their overlords, who controlled lay religious life and probably prevented purely local cults from growing for fear of an extension of commune influence. In Sonnino and Sermoneta, however, Thomas’s cult did find an audience. The question of the importance of Thomas’s corpse and tomb for the people of Sonnino is interesting. Thomas’s cult seems to have been quite successful in this small 78 There are some Dominican friars originating from Sezze in the hearings of Naples. 79 Among the signs of this interaction is, for example, the Church of San Bartolomeo (founded 1136) in Sezze. According to Maria Letizia de Sanctis, Pope Eugenius III gave it to the Cistercians of Fossanova: de Sanctis, 1990, pp. 270-271. Later, according to the peace stipulation, the officials of Priverno and Sezze visited each other every year on the feast day of the patron saint. In Thomas’s canonization hearings there is one witness, Petrus Boccasius de Piperno, who implies that in the autumn of 1321 the podestà of Priverno was from Sezze: Fossanova VI. 80 Angelini, 1998, pp. 100, 123. 81 Caciorgna, 1999, p. 50. 82 Caciorgna, 1996, p. 298.

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castrum. People from different social backgrounds petitioned Thomas with their health problems. The selection of illnesses was also wide and according to the canonization testimonies, Thomas responded to all the requests made by the people of Sonnino. The closeness of Fossanova, Sonnino, and Priverno—together with their cultural impact on each other—is probably the main factor that created similar interaction between the people and the saint as regards the variety of the miracles, the devotees, and their devotional practices.83 Nevertheless, it seems that no recruitment of new monks was made in Sonnino at the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Recruits to Fossanova were acquired almost solely from Priverno. Another factor which may have affected Thomas’s cult in Sonnino, both in a general as well as in a specific way, is the Cistercian nunnery in Sonnino, which functioned under the guidance of the Abbot of Fossanova.84 The monks of Fossanova visited the Monastery—Santa Maria delle Canne—when needed, and they most likely brought information about Thomas’s sainthood and miraculous power with them.85 Santa Maria delle Canne is likely to have had good connections with the surrounding society from which its sisters, donators, and economic supporters came. The church of a Cistercian nunnery was relatively open to visits of male and female converses as well as visitors, and possibly also to the wider public of Sonnino.86 Because the Monastery was a dependent of Fossanova, it mostly shared the same principles of cultic life as the mother house, which means that Thomas’s cult was promoted in the liturgy of the church by the time of the canonization at the latest.87 Thus the Monastery probably offered a place for monks, nuns, converses of both monasteries, and laity to exchange information about Thomas’s thaumaturgic power. A close study of the interaction between Thomas and the people of Sonnino in the canonization hearings can reveal some unusual features of religious practices. William of Tocco’s role in the devotional culture of the village is notable. For example, he testified about the first two miracles 83 Previous scholarship has interpreted the architecture as well as the recruits to find evidence of the active connections between Fossanova and Sonnino and Priverno. See, for example: Parziale, 2007, pp. 126-137, 188-229. 84 Cardosi, 1981, pp. 169-170. The Nunnery was originally Benedictine, but for a certain period of unknown length the nuns followed the Cistercian observances. On the history of the nunnery: Parziale, 2007, pp. 148-169; Pagliaroli, 2011, pp. 21-28. 85 For example, a couple of the Cistercian monks of Fossanova went to Sonnino to celebrate the funeral of one nun in c. 1316. Fossanova XXXV; Parziale, 2007, pp. 148-157. 86 Jäggi and Lobbedey, 2005, pp. 96-97; Lekai, 1977, pp. 347-363. 87 Unfortunately, there are no surviving sources from Santa Maria delle Canne that might tell us of its role in promoting Thomas’s existence in more detail.

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to benefit inhabitants of Sonnino. These happened in 1319, when William stayed at Fossanova to collect material for Thomas’s canonization process. At that time, he saw a woman from Sonnino—Stephania de Rocca—arrive at the Monastery. Like all women, she had to remain at the gate, where she asked to have Thomas’s relics brought to her so that they could be placed in contact with a tumour in her throat.88 Similarly, William was present when Nicolaus de Leone de Sompnino arrived in Fossanova to show his gratitude to Thomas for healing him. Nicolaus told William that he had been working in the fields when he had suddenly felt a terrible pain in his hip. Nicolaus had made a vow to Thomas that, if he were cured, he would go to Thomas’s tomb barefoot and with a stone hanging round his neck.89 These miracles occurred when the petitioner was not in immediate contact with Thomas’s tomb and body. Stephania’s miracle is a classic example of the use of relics to perceive the Saint’s presence when the petitioner prayed for help. Nor did Nicolaus have any contact with any body part of Thomas. William’s dictation does, however, give the impression that Nicolaus, on seeing the Monastery, remembered how Thomas had performed numerous miracles at his tomb, which helped him to feel Thomas’s presence powerfully in the proximity of the Monastery. We have already studied the case in which Iacoba, the woman from Sonnino, was passing Fossanova some distance away and heard the bells of the Monastery. For her, the tolling of bells was a sign of Thomas’s presence at the Monastery. In both Nicolaus’s and Iacoba’s cases, to perceive Thomas’s tomb by seeing or hearing it was an experience powerful enough to encourage them to make a petition to Thomas.90 It is remarkable that there was no need to be in physical contact with the corpse, although some material transmission in the process still appears to have been vital. Not only direct contact with the remains was sufficient to transmit power, but all sensorial experiences, even sight and hearing from a considerable distance. The sight and sound of the Abbey Church of Fossanova alone appear to have functioned as important stimuli to an experience of Thomas’s presence in the neighbourhood of the Abbey.91 The above two miracles seem to have been models for many similar cures reported in the canonization hearings. We have already studied 88 Neapoli LXIII. 89 Neapoli LXIV. 90 Fossanova XVII. 91 On the elements and processes that activate the presence of the holy, see Palazzo, 2010a, pp. 31-32.

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several miracles that occurred by contact with Thomas’s relics. The monks of Fossanova carried the relics to the gate of Fossanova, as in Stephania’s case, when requested. According to William’s testimony, Nicolaus’ miracle occurred before others reported to have occurred at a distance from the Monastery. Similarly, Stephania’s miracle is the first recorded at the gate of Fossanova in the canonization material. They are especially significant in that William selected them from a large number of healings he saw at the tomb.92 William chose them intentionally and their reputation presumably spread. The model they offered seems to have become popular, as more and more often petitioners made a vow at their homes or other convenient places, and did not come to Thomas’s tomb at Fossanova.93 The Church of Sant’Angelo appears to have become a regular place for the people of Sonnino to invoke Thomas Aquinas.94 It appears also that William of Tocco, the Dominican procurator of Thomas’s cause, had a significant role in the practice of using Sant’Angelo as the place to vow and pray to Thomas. For example, Iulianessa Iacobi, a resident of Sonnino, testifies in the hearings of Fossanova that Nicholutius Petri, her grandson, had had haemorrhage. In 1320 Nicholutius had suffered from the disease for a year, and his grandmother was sure he would eventually have died. Luckily, Iulinessa met William of Tocco, the Dominican friar, in Sonnino. William had probably come to Sonnino to collect miracle material and prepare the second round of hearings for Thomas’s canonization process in Fossanova. Iulianessa is reported to have quoted her own words as she met the Dominican friar to the commissioners: ‘Brother William, if the blessed Thomas restored to us the son, it would be a great miracle’. According to Iulianessa, William responded: ‘Bring him to me at the Church of Sant’Angeli of Sonnino and let us pray to the blessed Thomas Aquinas’. Iulianessa did what William suggested, and her grandson was cured.95 Witnesses of Sonnino testify that other miracles occurred at the same church. Floria Nicolai de castro Sompnino testifies how Leo, her threeyear-old grandson, was very sick and was expected to die. On May 1321, she vowed to God and Thomas, and after her vow, in order to enforce it, she 92 For the power of the proctor to influence the miracles collected in the canonization process, see Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 23-28, 48-53. On the proctor in general, see Toynbee, 1929, pp. 157-164. 93 For an example of a miracle at home, see Fossanova XXVI, XXVII. 94 On Michele Arcangelo a Sonnino, see Parziale, 2007, pp. 200-229. 95 Fossanova XLVI: ‘Frater Guillelme, si beatus Thomas redderet nobis istum puerum, esset unum magnum miraculum’.; ‘Porta eum ad me ad ecclesiam sancti Angeli istius castri, et recomendabimus eum beato Thome de Aquino’.

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went to the Church of Sant’Angeli to listen to the mass. When she returned home, she realized that Leo was completely cured.96 The testimony does not specify whether Floria prayed to Thomas specifically, or just followed the normal rite of the mass. Either way, the holy rite enabled Floria to have a more substantive connection to Thomas, perhaps even feel his presence in the church through the divine words, and have her petition noticed. Floria may have heard that Nicholutious had benefited from a miracle earlier at the same church, and consequently believed that this specific church had a particular role in the cure. There is one more miracle reported from the Church of Sant’Angeli. It occurred on September 1321. In this case the beneficiary was Maria Landulphi, a seven-year-old girl, who had been taken by demons. Maria was a daughter of Landulfus and his wife Sophia Leonardi, who was the daughter of the Count of Sonnino. According to the mother, the family had accompanied Maria to the Church of Sant’Angeli, where the parents asked Iacobus, the presbyter of the Church, to read the Book of John to Maria. The presbyter did as asked, and holy water was sprinkled on the girl, but there was no sign of improvement. Seeing this, Iulianessa—Maria’s grandmother and Sophia’s mother—turned to look at her daughter, and according to Sophia, said: ‘My daughter, do recommend her to the blessed Thomas Aquinas, and she will be liberated’. Sophia did what her mother asked. She also promised to lead Maria to Thomas’s tomb, and offer one wax candle and a gift to the sepulchre if she was cured. Maria immediately felt better and during the night she was completely cured. Next day she played with the other children of the village.97 When Presbyter Iacobus saw the girl cured on the same day, her mother Sophia said: ‘Can you see what a favour our blessed Thomas did when he cured this girl, when we vowed to him’.98 The above-mentioned miracles have several features in common. One is a visible participation of women, and especially elderly women. In all three miracle stories, it is the grandmother who makes the vow or advises others to turn to Thomas. These situations are not uncommon among the canonization testimonies in the Late Middle Ages. For example, Sari Katajala-Peltomaa has stressed gender roles and the involvement of women in invocations of saints in cases of children’s illnesses. According to her, the 96 Fossanova XXII, XLIV. 97 Fossanova XLII. 98 The presbyter Iacobus Bartholomaei de Sonnino himself testified about this sentence of Sophia: ‘Videte quanta bona fecit nobis beatus Thomas de Aquino qui istam puellam liberavit quam sibi recommendavimus’. Fossanova XVIII; XLIII.

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sole involvement of women as petitioners for cures in the Mediterranean countries is especially striking.99 Although the role of women is emphasized in the above miracles, I doubt whether the invocation was solely the women’s activity, as in Thomas’s case there are also numerous fathers praying help to their children. There is a difficulty in assessing gender roles, however, as Thomas’s tomb was inside the Cistercian Monastery, which women were not allowed to enter: if the tomb was to be approached as part of the cure, men had to do it. In other words, there is an inherent gender bias if all miracle cures are taken into account. On the other hand, men were not without a role in ‘home-cures’ either. To me it seems that the gender restrictions on accessibility to Fossanova were certainly an important reason why women were the main actors in Sant’Angeli. They had no hope of access to Thomas’s tomb, so the local church was probably seen as the second best option to encounter the Saint. The cases in which the grandmothers were especially worried about children are probably a consequence of an agricultural environment like that at Sonnino.100 There both men and women of working age were needed in the fields, especially at harvest time, and the children were left in the care of their grandmothers. In addition to the gender and social explanations, the grandmothers of Sonnino have a more specific significance regarding Thomas’s cult. All the witness testimonies that include old ladies give the impression that they knew of Thomas and his power before they asked for his help. Especially convincing is Maria’s case. Maria was a member of a noble family, so it was not because of her working hours that the grandmother became involved in curing the child. The old lady Iulianessa pressed her daughter Sophia to turn to Thomas instead of simply reading the Gospels. Apparently Thomas’s fame had been known to Iulianessa for some time. Thus, although the miracles told of by the people of Sonnino occurred at a relatively late period (mainly between 1319-1321), the knowledge of the elderly women indicates that Thomas had long had a part in the religious life of the castrum. Another common feature in the testimonies is the central role of the local Church of Sant’Angeli. The f irst miracles at the church probably functioned as the models for subsequent cases. The knowledge of previous cures gave people faith that Thomas’s would most likely also intervene to help them. The repetitive rituals—as well as connectivity to a known place or object—were basic elements of the Christian faith, and in particular of 99 Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 115-116. 100 On the socio-economics of the area, see Caciorgna, 1999 and 1996.

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the lay religiosity.101 From this viewpoint, Sant’Angeli was an important place where the faithful could connect with Thomas through the invocation or mass.102 Interestingly, Sant’Angeli is the only church in the area where the miracles are reported to have occurred without mention of Thomas’s relics. Therefore, this lay use of Sant’Angeli of Sonnino to mediate their interaction with Thomas is unusual. The activity of William of Tocco described above is worth closer examination, because of his involvement in Sant’Angeli and its links to Thomas Aquinas. As William was certainly known as the proctor of Thomas’s case, as well as his spiritual brother in the area, he most probably quickly achieved a high reputation among the laity of Sonnino when he arrived in the castrum. There, William publicly advised Iulianessa Iacobi to go to Sant’Angeli to ask for Thomas’s help. At the Church William himself assisted in the ritual of invocation. This event, and all the power that William symbolized, may have had a powerful influence on how the inhabitants perceived Thomas’s presence at Sant’Angeli.103 Although there is clear evidence of Thomas’s popularity in Sonnino, it appears that not all the beneficiaries of his miracles came to testify about them to the Fossanova canonization hearings of 1321. William of Tocco’s Miracula includes far more miracle cases involving people of Sonnino than the hearings. As we have seen, William visited and perhaps stayed for several days in Sonnino to collect Thomas’s miracles. His intention was presumably to present them in the second round of hearings. There are several indications that the hearings did not progress exactly as William had hoped. For example, it appears that not all the witnesses from Sonnino turned up at Fossanova. In any case, William added a lot of miracle stories from Sonnino to the Miracula, and he even included some under a special title, Infrascripta miracula facta in castro Sompnini et inventa.104 The importance of this part of the Miracula is clear, as there is only one other title in the whole opus, Miracula facta in monasterio Fosse nove meritis sancti Thome, 101 Stelladoro, 2006, p. 65; Vauchez, 1993, p. 91. For a more general overview of the rituals in the Christian faith, see Kertzer, 1988. 102 On activation of the holy through liturgy and how the liturgy creates a special space, see Palazzo, 2010a, pp. 30-32. 103 Sant’Angeli, however, was not the only place to seek a cure. For men of Sonnino, Thomas’s tomb was accessible and a frequented place, according to the testimonies: Fossanova XIX, XX, XXIII, XLVII, XXVI, XXVII. 104 In total, he has sixty-seven miracles, most of which did not, however, concern the people of Sonnino. Claire le Brun-Gouanvic says that only the first seventeen miracles are addressed the people of the castrum, contrary to what the title suggests. All together, the Miracula contains 146 miracles: le Brun-Gouanvic, 2005, esp. p. 177, and, 1996.

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in thertia inqvisitione inventa.105 In addition to the large number of miracles added to the Miracula, the other main difference between William’s text and the canonization reports is that in most of his miracle stories William emphasizes the visits of the petitioners to Thomas’s tomb to give their gratitude after they were cured of their sickness. The people also brought gifts to the grave. In many testimonies these people are not mentioned. There is at least one miracle story which did not entirely please William: in this case he changed the illness of the petitioner rather drastically, but kept the same gift offering, which betrays the nature of the original illness.106 William clearly wanted to prove the miracle cases of Sonnino in a way acceptable to him. To reiterate, Sonnino was close to Thomas’s tomb, the probably reason why William emphasized the miracles that occurred there. Given the significance of the witnesses and petitioners of Sonnino to William, it might seem strange that these people were not more involved in the canonization process. Why was this? One possibility is that Priverno wanted a monopoly over Thomas’s memory, and it may even have made access to Fossanova difficult for people from elsewhere, just as it prevented access to the public road Via Pedemontana for them.107 Attempts to maintain ‘exclusive possession’ of a saint, especially if he or she was considered a civic or patron saint, were not unknown among the communes and city-states of Italy.108 Even what we know of the recruitment to the Abbey may indicate a monopoly of the commune of Priverno. The alarm that the Privernese people may have felt about a possible division of Thomas’s cult into two, with Sonnino sharing it, was not felt without reason. As already mentioned, many people from the different social strata of Sonnino trusted in Thomas. Floria Nicholai stressed that the fame of Thomas’s merits was commonly known (vulgaris fama habetur) in the village.109 The most eminent people of Sonnino, however, were the counts and their kin. Sofia Landulfi, the wife of the Count, was cited as emphasizing her devotion to the presbyter of Sant’Angeli with the words: ‘[…] what a favour our blessed Thomas did […]’. The testimony suggests that Thomas was perceived as a saint of a certain group, or possibly the whole of Sonnino, as the conversation was between the countess and the priest of the village. 105 The title is followed by eight miracles. 106 The illness was first reported as a swollen testis, but William changed it into a broken bone: Fossanova XXI; Miracula LXXXI. See more detail of the stories later in this section. 107 Caciorgna, 1996, p. 298, and previously in this section. 108 Vauchez, 1993, pp. 165-166. 109 Fossanova XXIII.

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Sermoneta Another interesting series of miracles reported in the canonization hearings comes from Sermoneta. Sermoneta was in a far corner of the area I have defined as the heart or centre of Thomas’s cult—some thirty kilometres from Fossanova. It was a castrum like Sonnino, but bigger and wealthier.110 In Sermoneta, Thomas seems to have excelled as a saint-protector of men who clearly had problems with excessive drinking and perhaps eating too. Bartholomaeus Petri Bennicasse is a prime example. In Fossanova, Bartholomaeus testified that he had suffered from a trembling of the limbs for four years. Some half a year earlier he had also contracted a fever, after which he made a vow to Thomas. Bartholomaeus told to the commissioners how, on the next night, a person in the Dominican habit appeared to him. This person looked big and his face was agreeable—just as Bartholomaeus had thought Thomas would be (vidit unum in habitu Predicatorum, statura procerum et vultu venustum, quem firmiter dictum beatum Thomam de Aquino extimat extitisse). The person touched Bartholomaeus’s chest and limbs, and when he woke up, he realized he was cured.111 The same miracle is testified to by Leonardus Palumbus, a notary from the castrum of Sermoneta. According to Leonardus, the beneficiary was a heavy drinker. It seems that Leonardus did not approve of Bartholomaeus’s drinking habits, and advised him to drink less if he wanted to be cured of the tremble. Leonardus says that Bartholomaeus did not take his advice, and instead drank even more. Despite his habit, and to Leonardus’s surprise, Bartholomaeus was nevertheless cured. According to Leonardus, Bartholomaeus gave all the credit for the cure to Thomas, his benefactor and healer. It seems that Bartholomaeus did not express any sign of repentance for his bad habits before the miracle, nor after it. To the disgust of Leonardus, Bartholomaeus drank more than ever after the cure.112 The above miracle is interesting in many ways. First, we may be curious why an apparently heavy drinker vowed to Thomas. Was it just because he had heard about Thomas’s healing miracles in the surrounding villages, and thought that the Saint was worth trying? Or did Bartholomaeus 110 The castrum seems to have been in the hands of the Caetani family from 1297 onwards: Carocci, 1999, p. 30; Vendittelli, 1999. On the dominion of the Caetani family: Partner, 1999. Sermoneta managed to achieve relatively high economic prosperity. The wealth of the castrum was probably sufficient to attract people from the surrounding countryside, as it grew significantly under the Caetani: Vendittelli, 1999, p. 46. 111 Fossanova LVIII. 112 Fossanova LX.

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have particular hopes of Thomas? After all, Saint Thomas himself had been famed for his abstemiousness with both alcohol and food.113 At the same time, a variety of the witnesses from Cistercian, Dominican, and lay circles described Thomas as a big man, even fat.114 Was it perhaps this reputed corpulence that led Bartholomaeus to make a petition to Thomas? Or was it a certain miracle story at the Castle of Maenza which gave him the reputation of being a gourmet?115 Thomas did not favour asceticism in his writings, which may have been known among the countryside laity too. In my opinion, the question of whether Thomas was known as a protector of those who became ill because of excessive drinking or eating must be studied in the context of the associations of the Eucharistic meal. The connections between the secular and spiritual meal and beverage have been discussed by Miri Rubin and Caroline Walker Bynum.116 Bynum has described well the associative meaning of the medieval meal, ‘the prototypical meal, the Eucharist, which seemed to hover in the background of any banquet’.117 If we then look more closely at Thomas’s image in the light of medieval eating and drinking culture, it is not too far-fetched to see him as a kind of specialist in that field: Thomas was known to have composed the office of Corpus Christi at the demand of Pope Urban IV in 1264. The connection was emphasized by the Dominicans from 1318 onwards.118 Thomas was therefore famous for his writings on bread/flesh and wine/ blood. Although we can be sure that priests and prayers of medieval Italy explained the sacred meaning of this food, perhaps even the principle of transubstantiation, we cannot know how common people understood, or wanted to understand, their message. Miri Rubin describes this system of creating lay understanding by instructions as follows: The aim […] was to build a horizon of images, a vocabulary of associations, which would conjure each other, a train of symbols which followed from recurrent visual stimuli created by ritual or by private reading. 113 Neapoli XLVII, XLIX, LXX, LXXV, LXXXVIII, LXXXIX, XCII. 114 Neapoli XV, XIX, XLII, XLV; Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, fol. 113v. 115 Neapoli L. 116 Especially Rubin, 1991 and 2011; Bynum, 1987. 117 Bynum, 1987, p. 3. 118 Historia eccl. XXII, XXIV. In the Acts of the General Chapter, the liturgy of Corpus Christi is attributed to Thomas Aquinas, as late as in the chapter of Vienna in 1322: Acta capitulorum generalium, p. 138. For more analysis of Thomas’s memory in connection to Corpus Christi, see my article on Thomas’s cult in Orvieto.

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[…] a large area of Rezeption was bound to be undetermined, open to fantasy, imagination, extrapolation, creating new and reproducing old interpretations.119

We cannot exclude the possibility that in the lay mind Thomas’s poetic and allegorical writings about bread and wine were taken literally as praise of bread and wine, and even food and wine in general. Besides Thomas’s fame as the writer of the mass and office for the Corpus Christi feast, he was also remembered as one of the greatest devotees of the Eucharist. At the time of the canonization, several witnesses refer to how Thomas received the Eucharistic meal. At this point, the language used in these descriptions needs examination. For example, William of Tocco wrote in the Miracula that a certain Nicolas ‘had a marvellous vision in which he saw the Saint when he was celebrating the office of Corpus Christi at one church in Naples, the very same which was written by the Saint Thomas Aquinas’. The miracle story finishes with laudatory words on Thomas’s writings and his deep understanding of the mystery of the incarnation and the Virgin Mary, first as a living person, and then as a saint in heaven: how he could foretaste joy in his way, and now at home he saw with the complete taste (cuius gaudium frequenter pregustauit in uia, et pleno gustu nunc uidet in patria).120 Here, the vocabulary of tasting is prominent; the divine knowledge is described as being received by taste. Bynum points out that as the language of eating and drinking was used widely in different contexts in Late Middle Ages, it may have been confusing in several situations and practices that involved drinking and eating.121 See in this light, it is no surprise that Bartholomaeus chose Thomas as a mediator of his petition. Thomas was well known in the area for healing miracles, and he probably had a remarkable reputation as a specialist in the Eucharistic meal as well. The Cistercian emphasis on Thomas’s role in the Eucharistic feast may have been well known in the village, nor did it come only from Fossanova, but also from Valviscolo, the affiliate of Fossanova which was located in Sermoneta, and Casamari, another strong Cistercian mother house in South Lazio.122 It cannot be excluded that Thomas’s presence became real for Bartholomaeus and other laypeople through similar practices to those of the choir of the monks of Fossanova 119 Rubin, 1991, p. 105. 120 Miracula XVI. 121 Bynum, 1987, pp. 56 and 327 note 102. 122 Barone, 1999, p. 78; Ciammaruconi, 1991; Calogero Bellanca, 1999, pp. 407-411.

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(see Chapter II).123 Thomas’s presence may have been perceived from the Eucharistic vessels and the church in which the presence of the holy was materialized in the rituals and ritual objects of the liturgy.124 Moreover, the materiality of Bartholomaeus’s experience is almost palpable in his description of Thomas’s appearance in his vision.125 The material realism of the vision reached its height when Bartholomaeus actually felt Thomas touch his body.126 The miracles performed for Bartholomaeus are a good example of the ways in which Thomas’s fama diffused among the laity: when Bartholomaeus was cured, he attributed the miracle to Thomas. He caused a snowball effect in Sermoneta, as others who had similar problems prayed to Thomas to be cured. Petrus Craparius de Sermineto, for example, testified in Fossanova that he had had problems with his liver: he had yellowish skin and his limbs were heavy. Once, when he was passing the village gate to go to his field, he heard Bartholomaeus telling others about the miraculous cure of his trembling and fever. Petrus decided to try Thomas and after a vow he was indeed cured.127 Iohannes Rubeus, fisicus de Sermineto, confirmed Petrus Craparium’s disease as hepatitis. Iohannes is said to have given some assistance which he believed would reduce the inflammation. About a week later, he saw Petrus completely recovered and was astonished, because the medicine could not cure hepatitis so quickly.128 Nicolaus Grassone was also cured from a disease of the liver. Nicolaus, whose epithet can be taken as a clue to his obesity, prayed to Thomas after he had heard about the cures Thomas had enacted on Barholomaeus Cambelle Marescalci and Petrus Craparius de Sermineto, who had also suffered from liver disease.129 As 123 Cf. Bynum, 2011, p. 129. Bynum argues that ‘the laity absorbed a good deal of religious knowledge from sermons and the liturgy’. 124 On the role of liturgy, see Palazzo, 2010a, 2010b and 2014. Similar images as Thomas with the monstrance ought to have inspired images connecting the presence of the Eucharistic vessels to Thomas but, as I mentioned in the previous chapter, such images are rare and the mural painting in Fossanova is probably late, given the context in which Bartholomaeus lived. 125 Bynum, 2011, pp. 102-104. On tangibility and visio: Heinonen, 2007, pp. 120-121. On the tangibility and veracity of the visio, see Keskiaho, 2015, pp. 35-46. 126 The vision or dream was, according to Jean-Claude Schmitt, a total experience; it was physical and spiritual at one and the same time, just as in Bartholomaeus’s case: Schmitt, 2000, p. 245. On a similarly vivid vision and subsequent healing miracle: Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, pp. 108-109. She also remarks that these kinds of visions were fairly common. Among miracles collected in the canonization process of Thomas Aquinas, the case is unique. On visions in medieval culture: Keskiaho, 2015. 127 Fossanova LXI, LXII, LXIII. 128 Fossanova LXIV. 129 Fossanova LXXXIV, CXIII.

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well as these possible alcoholics or gluttons, the canonization documents include one woman from Sermoneta, whose illness was not caused by a large amount of wine or food.130 William of Tocco probably foresaw the danger to Thomas’s reputation if it became connected too strongly to excessive eating and drinking. He did not include the miracles of Bartholomaeus Petri Bennicasse, Petrus Craparius, Nicolaus Grassone, or Barholomaeus Cambelle Marescalci in his Miracula. Nor did he include a miracle story told by Iohannes de Neapoli (John of Regina)—one of Thomas’s most famous disciples—about another Dominican friar, Leonardus de Neapoli, who suffered from a stomach upset, named as colic (yliaci), at Thomas’s tomb.131 As we know, the luxurious life of friars and monks had awakened criticism of various kinds; among the most famous critics in Italy were Boccaccio and Dante. Thus, in the Miracula, the Dominican official memory of Thomas concealed negative and unpleasant features of the lay cult. There is one interesting example of a miracle, very different from those discussed above, but which may nonetheless involve a similar unwillingness to handle inconvenient cases: Amatus Bruni de Sonnino testified at Fossanova that he had had an abscess/swollen testis (probably orchitis) in the right side of his groin. At first, the abscess was the size of the egg, later it was the size of the hen. Amatus wore a special belt which was commonly used with similar diseases—apparently with some kind of supporting structure. Andreas de Iulgiano, an expert on the disease, had advised him to use the belt. Amatus, however, did not see the belt as sufficient help, and decided to make a vow to Thomas. He promised to make an exact replica of the belt, but in silver, and bring it to Thomas’s tomb if he was cured. When Amatus finished his testimony and stated that he was cured, the inquisitors and other officials wanted to check that Amatus did not have the abscess, nor wear the belt any more. William of Tocco seems to have been unenthusiastic about this miracle as he changed the story radically: according to the Miracula, Amatus had suffered from a broken bone for six years! The gift he promised to Thomas was nevertheless a silver belt.132 As we can see, in William’s Miracula there is no connection between the illness and the gift, and in this form the story reads oddly given that in general and in other cases the gifts have a clear correlation to the illness. 130 The petitioner of the miracle was Maria Egidii, who had had a dry cough for a year, Fossanova LXV, LXVII, LXVI. 131 Neapoli XLVIII. 132 Fossanova XXI, XXIV; Miracula LXXXI.

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As regards Thomas’s reputation as a friend of good wine and food, there was nothing to stop the laity asking Thomas for help with illnesses caused by drinking and eating. If William did not accept these kinds of miracles in his Miracula, Bernard Gui was more open-minded, and included the eating-drinking related miracles from Sermoneta in his legend.133 Later, Ferdinando del Castiglio (1529-1595) added numerous miracles relating to the theme of eating and drinking to Thomas’s miracula. For example: A man had had pains in the liver and stomach, as well as continuing fever, for seven weeks. One Friday he felt much worse and recommended himself to the glorious Saint because he had heard about his other miracles. On Saturday evening he prayed with his wife and entrusted himself devoutly to the care of the Saint. The following day he was completely cured.134

Another interesting example is a miracle of magister Matheus Iohannis Leonis de Piperno, an oblate of Fossanova. Petrus Francisci de Piperno, the monk of Fossanova, had testified in the hearings of Naples that Matheus—a very old oblate—suffered from a bad cough, but was cured after he made a vow to Thomas. The miracle that benefited Matheus had changed completely by the sixteenth century. In Ferdinando del Castiglio’s story, one evening Matheus went to sleep, contented after a good dinner. In the middle of the night, his stomach became very painful and his throat became so badly swollen that he could hardly respire. He realized he was dying. He prayed in his heart that Thomas would cure him—as he did.135 The later legends of the Early Modern period indicate that Thomas was increasingly perceived as a saint who specialized in the pleasures of the table, but the beginning of the trend is already detectable in the medieval canonization material. Thomas seems to have been a saint that drinkers and gluttons felt they could turn to for several centuries. The fama of the patron saint of gourmands was not limited to Sermoneta or other nearby communities, but even spread to the Renaissance Florentine court as Ferdinando’s text suggests. Once Thomas’s fama spread to various dispersed localities, it appears that 133 De miraculis S. Thome II, pp. 48, 49, 59. 134 Castiglio 1589, p. 422: ‘Vn’altro era stato sette settimane infermo di fegato & di stomaco, con febre continua & vn venerdi trovandosi stare assai peggio di quel dolore, si raccommando a questo glorioso santo, hauendo sentito dire d’altri miracoli, che per la inuocatione sua erano fatti. Et subito la sera di sabbato dinanzia la propria Donna & da lei pregato & ricerco, si raccomando diuotamente a questo Santo & altro giorno si trouò sano d’ogni sua indisposizione’. Originally Ferdinando del Castiglio wrote in Castilian dialect. I have used the Italian translation. 135 Castiglio 1589, p. 425.

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neither the Cistercians nor the Dominicans could control Thomas’s image or even keep it uniform any more. Bartholomaeus Petri Bennicasse’s case is a prime example of a lay construction of Thomas as curer and saint. Bartholomaeus’s interpretation on Thomas’s thaumaturgic interests and capabilities was, however, only one among many. The following section shows how in different communities Thomas’s presence was constructed in different ways and manifested in different objects or places. The key point here is how central the material manifestations of the cult appear to have been to the perception of the laity.

The strongholds of Thomas’s cult in Southern Italy Among all the laypeople interested in Thomas’s cult, Thomas’s relatives and allies concentrated their interest on the relics, which they were particularly keen to possess. Members of the different family branches and their vassals probably saw Thomas’s relics as excellent tools to gain more power in both the spiritual and the political sphere in Southern Italy. Among noble people Thomas’s cult appears to have diffused around a much wider area than its heartland as I defined it above. In focus here are such castles and towns as Sanseverino, Salerno, Roccasecca, and Anagni (see Illustration 1, p. 26). Thomas’s relatives and their allies either controlled or had a strong influence in these places. How did Thomas’s relatives and other noble supporters of the cult organize communion with the saint at their fortresses, with or without the relics, and how did they exploit Thomas’s presence? Reconstructing the interests and usages of Thomas by the local baronial families is not easy. Regardless of the missing pieces, it is nevertheless important to attempt an understanding of the richness and depth of Thomas’s cult in all its forms in late medieval Southern Italy. From Sanseverino to Salerno As far as we know the first fortress to possess any Thomas’s relics was the Castle of Sanseverino, south of Naples. The political-devotional context of the relic transfer is interesting. In the canonization hearings it was said that Teodora, Thomas’s sister, asked and procured (procuravit) Thomas’s hand from the Abbot of Fossanova, because of the devotion and love she felt towards Thomas.136 From what we know of medieval relic cults, this does 136 Neapoli XLVI, XX.

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not appear to be a complete explanation. The hand was a precious relic donation, which would not have been made without a return gift or other compensation.137 If we could trace a possible act of exchange, it would tell us more about the significance and memory of the hand when it created a bond between the two ‘donators’. There is an interesting source from Fossanova, dating to the period a little before the relic donation, which may shed light on the background to the event. The source is an inquisition process against Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis, who was the Abbot of Fossanova in the 1280s and probably afterwards. Papal officers accused Petrus of various crimes between April 1284 and January 1285. The inquiry was organized at Fossanova, where forty monks of the Monastery were interrogated. Most of them supported the accusations. Petrus was, for example, accused of having kept several women in different villages and even murdered a converse of Fossanova. The most important of Petrus’s crimes were, however, his contacts with the enemy of the Kingdom of Naples and of the Papal See, the Aragonese royal house in Sicily and its partisans in the Kingdom. After the Sicilian Vespers (1282), important possessions of Fossanova had remained on ‘the wrong side’ of the divided Kingdom, in Sicily under the rule of King Peter III of Aragon. Petrus tried to hold on to the estates and justified his contacts with the enemies of the Pope and the King of Naples by his preoccupation with the benefits of the Monastery.138 The War of the Sicilian Vespers lasted many years. Petrus asked for the help of Tommaso of Sanseverino, Teodora’s son, in an attempt to save the estates of Fossanova in Sicily.139 Petrus very likely thought that Tommaso was the right person to help, since he had taken the daughter of Peter of Aragon’s chamberlain as a hostage. The hostage would have been an advantage in negotiations, and Petrus apparently hoped that Tommaso would use the girl to the advantage of the Monastery.140 There seems to have been some existing bond between Petrus and Tommaso of Sanseverino, perhaps of kinship, which 137 Sbardella, 2007, p. 123 and passim. Sbardella discusses gift giving culture in the light of anthropological and historical studies. See also: Geary, 1994a, pp. 194-218; Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, p. 72. On gift-giving culture in a Cistercian monastery, see Jamroziak, 2005, pp. 213-218. 138 Clemente Ciammaruconi has published a detailed study as well as a meticulous edition of the acts in, 2002. The Kingdom of Naples/Sicily was divided into two parts, the cause of this being the famous (or infamous) Sicilian Vespers in 1282. The Island of Sicily came under the rule of Peter III of Aragon, whereas the south part of the Peninsula remained in the hands of the Angevins. On the Sicilian Vespers, see Runciman, 1958. 139 Tommaso inherited the title of Count from his father Ruggero II (reigned 1254-1285) and was the Count of Sanseverino from 1285 to 1324: Corolla, 2008; Portanova, 1977. 140 Ciammaruconi, 2002, pp. 81 and 39.

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facilitated this assistance. At any rate, Petrus had visited the Castle several times and they knew each other well.141 In addition, Tommaso di Sanseverino was one of the confidants of the Angevin King of Naples, and one of the most powerful barons in the Kingdom.142 Tommaso was probably the best advocate Petrus could have hoped for to win over the King and the Pope. Although the accusations against Petrus were serious, he emerged from the battle victorious, as he was unseated in circa 1284, but was again the Abbot of Fossanova in 1288.143 Officially Petrus’s case was closed by 29 September 1290, when Pope Nicholas IV confirmed Fossanova’s possession of Piazza Adriano.144 In the light of the above information, it is plausible that when Petrus returned to the position of abbot, he was obliged to show his gratitude to Tommaso of Sanseverino. The precious relic donation would have been a perfect way to do so. Gregorio Portanova has briefly discussed the relic donation in his article about the politics of Ruggero and Tommaso, the Counts of Sanseverino (father and son). Portanova does not mention the hand-relic in connection with any specific political actions, but he notes that the relic donation was a sign of the close relationship between Abbot Petrus and the family of Sanseverino.145 Transfer of relics from one possessor to another in similar situations was common in the Middle Ages: a relic was often used as a special payment or recompense for a special favour or help, or as a seal of a mutual assistance treaty.146 The chronological link between the resolving of Petrus’ difficulties and the relic donation gives reason to think that transfer of the relic to Sanseverino was more than just a sign of friendship.147 It was probably one result of the political machinations in Southern Italy in the 1280s. Countess Teodora is reported to have carried Thomas’s hand to a chapel in the Castle of Sanseverino. The Castle was a mighty fortress, strategically one of the most important in the Kingdom of Naples. As the family’s power 141 Neapoli XLIX; Ciammaruconi, 2002, pp. 15-16, 39; Portanova, 1977, p. 66. 142 On the relations between the royal house of Anjou (Naples) and the house of Sanseverino, see Portanova, 1977. For a general history of the medieval family of Sanseverino at the castle in Mercato San Severino, as it is known today, see Corolla, 2008. 143 Neapoli XX. 144 Ciammaruconi, 2002, pp. 44-45. 145 Portanova, 1977, p. 66. 146 Among the extensive literature on the topic, the most significant are Patrick Geary’s studies, especially Geary, 1994a, pp. 194-218. See also Klein, 2011, pp. 55-67. For an interesting article on Christian gift-giving and counter-gift culture between theology and practice, see Canetti, 2014. 147 On the rationality of gift-giving culture among the Cistercians, see Jamroziak, 2005, pp. 216-218.

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grew during the fourteenth century, it acquired the characteristics of a residential palace too. The Palatine Chapel, where Teodora seems to have carried the relic, is nowadays known as Santa Maria a Castello.148 It is situated at the top of the hill of the castrum, as part of the Count’s Palace. Its basic outlines are still visible, although both the Castle and the Chapel lie in ruins today. The building was once a small, single nave church (c. 17m x 6m) with a crypt.149 At the end of the thirteenth century, judging from the reports of the canonization hearings, the Chapel safeguarded a remarkable relic collection.150 At the Castle, Thomas’s hand was material proof of the blood relationship between its lords and Thomas Aquinas, who had a saintly reputation even before the papal approval for his canonization. Military power, political weight, and the presence of the saints in their bones gave the Castle an aura of spiritual power, which augmented its position as a political and strategic centre of the Kingdom and of Southern Italy.151 Interestingly, Tommaso, Teodora’s son, renounced Thomas’s hand despite the benefits it probably brought for his family at the Castle of Sanseverino. Tommaso donated the hand to the Dominican house in Salerno in the 1310s. There are several clues that the transportation of the hand to Salerno was made by bilateral agreement between Count Tommaso and the Dominicans of the town. First of all, both the family and the Dominicans of Salerno wished to see Thomas canonized. In the Dominican Church, the hand could play a more active role in public and devotional life than it could in a private chapel at Sanseverino. As a location for a holy relic, the private Chapel was probably also regarded as unconventional. Fourteenth-century popes certainly aimed to restrict lay ownership of such relics.152 Thus, in Thomas’s case the publicity and fitting reputation were probably seen as an important prerequisite for papal approval of the cult.153 The Dominicans received the desired relic of their brother, which presumably comforted 148 Corolla, 2008, pp. 42-46. 149 For a description of the Church, see Corolla, 2008, p. 51. The difference between the words chapel and church in medieval usage were connected more to the functions of the space than the construction itself: see for example Bacci, 2003. 150 Neapoli XLVI. 151 Michael Goodich has, albeit very cursorily, dealt with Thomas’s relic at the castle of Sanseverino, and parallels it to other contemporary relics and their uses in war and peace. Goodich states that often in these situations the relics symbolized state power and expressed unity: Goodich, 1995, pp. 121-123. On the collecting of relics by kings and nobles: Klein, 2011, pp. 55-67. 152 Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, p. 327. 153 André Vauchez claims that one of the basic elements to begin a canonization process was a relatively wide reputation of a saint candidate and his or her miracles: Vauchez, 1989, pp. 78-79, 304-305, and passim.

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them and offered spiritual support to them in their project to have Thomas canonized. It seems that the Sanseverino family received several advantages as a counter gift. Teodora, Count Tommaso’s mother; Maria, the aunt; and Tommasino, presumably an uncle, were buried in one of the chapels of the Dominican Church of Salerno. According to Gregorio Portanova, Count Ruggero II—Teodora’s husband—began to construct the funerary Chapel for the family there after Maria, his sister-in-law, was entombed in 1279. Portanova considers it natural that the hand-relic would be located in the family Chapel, thus creating a clear association between Thomas’s assistance and the souls of dead family members. 154 It also seems that William of Tocco compensated the Sanseverino family for their desire to co-operate by including them as the blessed family in the Ystoria, as already discussed in Chapter II. William makes a point of singing the praises of Teodora, the Saint’s sister, who was well known for her devotion, charity and penitent acts—for example, undergoing flagellation. According to William, Count Tommaso was so virtuous that there was an aura of goodness about him already as living person. Of the corpse of Teodora, William says that, ‘translated to be venerated in another place, the corpse was found intact and emitting a pleasant perfume, which testifies with certainty to her sainthood’.155 It appears that Teodora was initially buried in the Palatine Church and later transported to Salerno—unfortunately, we have no further information about the case. Although many questions remain open, we cannot underestimate the significance of Thomas Aquinas’s hand at the Dominican Church of Salerno for the Sanseverino family. At the time of the War of the Sicilian Vespers, the Count of Sanseverino, for example, was given the land around Salerno by the King.156 The placing of the hand in the family Chapel of the Sanseverino signalled Thomas’s position as the special protector-saint of his family, and the transfer to Salerno was no doubt intended to assist the family in establishing itself in the city by reinforcing its religious and political reputation.

154 Portanova, 1977, pp. 63-65. The medieval sources do not explicate the exact place of the relocation of the hand, or whether it ended up in the chapel of Sansevernino or not. In the Early Modern period the relic was conserved in the sacristy, which was a common place for such treasures: AGOP, Liber GGG, pars II, fol. 717v. 155 Ystoria XXXVII: ‘ad locum alium pro sua ueneratione translatum, inuentum est integrum et magnum odorem astantibus reddidit, qui sanctitati sue certum testimonium fidem dedit’. 156 Portanova, 1977.

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Roccasecca Although Thomas’s large family was interested in promoting his cult, not all the family branches had a relic to help them in their task. The branch of Roccasecca is a good example. At the beginning of the fourteenth century Roccasecca was owned by the Aquino clan.157 Interestingly, probably the earliest church dedication to Thomas is from this castrum. The church already existed in 1325.158 Today the small building (19.5m x 10.30m) known as San Tommaso d’Aquino is still situated between the medieval village and the Castle, both in ruins. According to Michelangelo Cagiano de Azevedo, who studied the site before the area was devastated in World War II, the church was originally an integral part of the rampart of the Castle. He excludes the possibility that the building might have been a parish church of the Castle. Cagiano de Azevedo cautiously dates the building to the beginning of the fourteenth century on the basis of its style of construction, admitting that he has found no documents related to the structure.159 In spite of the sparse information on the building, the dedication is significant as it is evidence of a relatively early and established cult. Thomas’s family is known to have had an interest in his cult and they are likely be behind the dedication: as overlords of Roccasecca they probably had exclusive power to promote Thomas’s cult there.160 The Church of San Tommaso was probably not exclusively for the use of the extended Aquino family living at the Castle, as it was situated outside the walls. Also the plan reconstructed by Cagiano de Azevedo suggests a division of the interior between the presbytery and an open space for the laity.161 Although the Church was small, it was considerably larger than the Palatine Church of Sanseverino, which was a similar castrum to Roccasecca but had more inhabitants.162 There were likely significant differences in the nature of the saint’s presence in these two places, although the promoters of the cult were probably the same. In Sanseverino, Thomas’s memory was material in the sense that a part of his body was there. On the other hand, 157 In general, on the history of Roccasecca and the Aquino family there: Walz, 1961b, pp. 21-28. 158 Rationes decimarum, p 35. 159 Cagiano de Azevedo, 1963, pp. 32-33. 160 On the religious power of the barons in Southern Lazio: Barone, 2000, p. 169. It is worth noting that the Dominican influence, at least the permanent influence in Roccasecca, seems to have begun considerably later: the first Dominican house is known to have been founded in the year 1478. The Dominican church seems to have had Thomas’s finger relic: AGOP, Liber GGG, pars II, fol. 711r. 161 Cagiano de Azevedo, 1963, p. 32. 162 This is how the situation can be perceived on the archeological sites today.

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Illustration 9  San Tommaso Church, Roccasecca

for the larger audience his presence was symbolic because the relic was inside the Palatine Church with restricted access. Nevertheless, because the location of the hand-relic was known it still had the role of status symbol for the family of Sanseverino. In Roccasecca, it was probably the Church building itself that represented Thomas. Roccasecca was the place where, according to William of Tocco, a hermit named Bonus appeared to Thomas’s mother and predicted the birth of her son, a future Dominican friar.163 It seems that at the beginning of the nineteenth century, a local tradition sustained the idea that the Church stood at the place where Bonus would have lived.164 There are strong indications that Thomas’s birthplace became an important part of his remembrance among the Dominicans: as attested, for example, in a late fifteenth-century manuscript that is now in the archives of the Cathedral of Orvieto. The manuscript originates from the convent of the Preachers of Orvieto and the first folio for the liturgy of Thomas’s dies natalis presents the famous scene in which the hermit is approaching the Castle of Roccasecca. Thomas’s mother is evidently waiting for him at the gate with some other women. In this version of the tale the church building, which may be either the imagined hermit’s home or a representation of the contemporary local friary, is on the top of the next hill.165 163 For a description of Bonus and his prophecy at Roccasecca, see both of William’s contributions, his testimony in Neapoli LXII and Ystoria II. 164 Cagiano de Azevedo, 1963, pp. 32-33. 165 Archivio del Duomo, Ms. 190, fol. 120r. The manuscript used to be thought to derive from the medieval collection of the liturgical manuscripts of the Cathedral. The content of the manuscript clearly connects it, however, to the local Dominican friary. The text of Thomas’s feast ends: ‘Iste

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Illustration 10 The opening of Thomas’s liturgical feast, ms. 190 at the Archivio del Duomo, Orvieto

© Opera del Duomo di Orvieto

liber illuminatus est per me fratrem Valentinum de Ungaria ordinis predicatorum 1499’. For a brief introduction to the illuminated manuscripts of the archives of the Cathedral: Tammato Conti, 1952. In her list she gives the number four to this manuscript.

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As well as influencing the Dominican tradition, the legend of Thomas’s birth and his (more plausible) childhood at the Castle very likely affected his local cult. In Roccasecca, at the time when the legend was developing, the cult was also emerging. This presumably occurred among people who had personal links to him or, probably the majority of cases, links to places Thomas had once frequented and in that sense still belonged.166 Thomas’s cult also appears to have developed around another place associated with his early life, a second Aquino castrum, Sangiovanni Campano. In that castle Thomas was imprisoned when his family tried to prevent him from joining the Order of Preachers. There the cult centre is the Chapel of the Castle, traditionally taken as the room where Thomas was imprisoned. Thomas Aquinas was probably the Patron Saint of Sangiovanni Campano from an unknown date until 1839.167 Thomas’s living presence had sanctified numerous places in medieval Southern Italy. Rooms where he had once lived were transformed into chapels in the Early Modern period, if not before. Churches dedicated to Thomas represented his sanctity and his theology. They were especially effective manifestations of Thomas’s continuous presence in medieval communities, and as places where his presence was experienced they attracted Thomas’s devotees. Anagni After the canonization, Thomas’s relics became officially ‘presentable at court’. At the same time, they naturally became more sought after. The Historia translationis texts give an excellent example of this. According to Raymundus Hugonis, around the middle of the fourteenth century, 166 According to a local legend, the people of Roccasecca fervently hoped for Thomas’s canonization. They wanted it so badly that they did an ex-voto to Saint Peter Martyr and promised to elevate him to Patron Saint of the castrum if Thomas’s canonization succeeded. According to Maria Grazia Corradini, the f irst documents regarding the festivities of Peter Martyr in Roccasecca are dated 18 July 1323, the exact date of Thomas’s canonization: Corradini, 2006, pp. 161-162. The claims of Corradini are quite hard to accept when the only source material she presents in support of her theory are recently collected interviews about local oral tradition. In older material the reason for naming Saint Peter Martyr as the Patron Saint is much less clear: AGOP Liber GGG, pars II, fol. 711r. Tommaso Caliò is soberer in his interpretation of the oral tradition: Caliò, 2006, p. 158. 167 Thomas is still a co-patron of the town and his cult is still thriving: Caliò, 2006, pp. 7-10; Walz, 1961b, pp. 41-52; Robino, 1980, pp. 252-253. On the tradition of the imprisonment, see Räsänen, 2010, pp. 201-218. It may surprise the reader that there are no traces of the Thomas cult from Aquino that appear earlier than the twentieth century, despite it giving its name to the Saint. The City received a rib from Toulouse in, 1964, and Thomas was elevated to become co-patron, next to the antique San Costanzo, as late as 1974: Caliò, 2005, p. 84; Riganati, 2005, p. 85.

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Louis—the King of Naples—was ready to pay an enormous amount of money, 15,000 golden florins, if he could have the whole body.168 As far as is known, the King did not acquire a piece of Thomas, but some others were luckier. An altar panel, now in the Cathedral Museum of Anagni, tells us about one relic donation. The panel (167 cm x 85 cm) shows Madonna with child on the Throne. A commissioner kneels before them (See fig. 11). On the leg of the Throne of Madonna is also the following inscription: This work is commissioned by Raynaldus, presbyter and cleric of this church in May of the Lord’s year 1325. Here are the relics of the Saints Thomas Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Aquinas, and Peter the Bishop of Anagni.169

The inscription states that Saint Thomas Aquinas’s relic was placed in the Cathedral of Anagni on May 1325. Before it ended up in the Cathedral Museum, the altar panel was in the Caetani Chapel of the Cathedral. If the placement was original, as it probably was, we can state that one of Thomas’s bones was located at that chapel.170 The inscription gives a relatively large amount of information, even telling who ordered and paid for it.171 However, it does not explain how and why Thomas Aquinas’s relic ended up in Anagni. Is it possible to find out more about the history and significance of this relic in the most important papal city in Italy after Rome? Pascal Montaubin has studied the chapter of Anagni. Although his focus is on the thirteenth century, his research extends into the early fourteenth century. One of these excursions is the re-establishment of the cult of Peter 168 Historia translationis, p. 85. See also Alia historia translationis 2. 169 ‘HOC OP(US) FIERI FECIT DO(MI)N(US) RAYNALD(US) PRE(S)BITER ET CL(ER)IC(US) ISTI(US) ECCL(ES)IE SUB AN(N)O D(OMI)NI MCCCXXV MENSE MADII IBI SUNT D(E) RELIQ(U)IS S(AN)C(T)O(RUM) THOM(AE) ARCHIEPI(SCOPI) CANT(UARIENSIS), THOM(AE) D(E) AQ(UI)NO ET PET(RI) EPI(SCOPI) ANAGNINI’. According to Paola della Pergola, the inscription has been re-inscribed at some stage, but undoubtedly over the original letters. See della Pergola, 1945, p. 201 note 1. 170 At the end of the thirteenth century the Chapel, originally dedicated to and called San Giovanni Evangelista, was taken into the use of the Caetani family. After this, it soon became known as the family chapel of Caetani, and this name remained in use thereafter: Montaubin, 1997, p. 346. A more exact location for the relic is hard to find: in the literature concerning the altar panel there is no mentions of a possible relic contained in the panel itself. Thus, in all probability, the panel was situated above one altar of the Chapel and the relics were conserved either inside or on the altar, or even in the wall-closet next to the altar panel. 171 In the studies of the history of the Cathedral or its clergy, I have not managed to find any mention of Raynaldus. On the wealth of the clergy of the Cathedral in general, see Sibilia, 1964, pp. 39-109; Montaubin, 1997.

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Illustration 11 The altar panel depicting the Madonna and child and its commissioner, Museo del Duomo di Anagni

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of Anagni, the Bishop of Anagni. Montaubin states that on 15 January 1325 the Bishop of the City, Petrus Ferri and his chapter, decided to elevate the feast of Peter of Anagni to the highest category of the saints of the Cathedral and to the same solemn position as the patron saints of the city, Saints Magno and Secondina.172 What caught my attention was the date and the role of Bishop Petrus Ferri in the elevation of Saint Peter’s feast. Petrus Ferri was one of the commissioners Pope John XXII instructed to lead the second round of canonization hearings for Thomas Aquinas at the Monastery of Fossanova in 1321. According to the acts of the process, the Bishop was also present at the Monastery. Another appointed commissioner who was also present during the hearings was Pandulfus Savelli, a papal notary from Rome.173 My suggestion is, and I give my reasons below, that at the end of the hearings the monks donated one Thomas’s bone-relic to each of the commissioners as a sign of gratitude for their work towards his canonization. It seems evident that both Petrus and Pandulfus carried the relics to their home-towns. As a result, there is an altar in Anagni and a church dedication in Rome. When Mariano Armellini wrote his study on the Roman churches, he claimed to have found a new document from the Vatican archives, which mentions the church dedicated to Saint Thomas Aquinas in Rome. The document was dated 24 May 1368, and it was claimed that the church was on the estates of the Savelli family in Monte Savello.174 The rarity of the dedication to Thomas alone would make the church worth investigating, but its connection to the Savelli family makes it even more interesting. Angelo Walz accepts the dedication of the church as a memory of the passage of Thomas’s relics through Rome in 1368 on their route from Priverno and Fondi.175 The interpretation is implausible and the hypothesis that Thomas’s relics were donated to Petrus Ferri and Pandulfus Savelli in 1321 is more likely. Vladimir Koudelka has claimed that the founding of the Chapel was connected to the activity of Pandulfus Savelli in Thomas Aquinas’s canonization process. According to Koudelka, Pandulfus was inspired by the process and requested papal approval for a theological collegium and a Chapel for the use of the priest students, which he founded on the Aventine Hill, in the complex of the Savelli Palace, next to the Dominican Convent of Santa 172 The feast was ranked in totum duplex with octava: Montaubin, 1997, p. 340. 173 Fossanova CXXXIV; Koudelka, 1962, pp. 141-142. 174 Armellini, 1891, p. 622. See also: Zucchi, 1940, p. 232; Mercati, 1952, pp. 317-320. Vladimir Koudelka (1962) has given a more specific location than Monte Savello for the Church in the fortress of the Savelli family: he convincingly locates it on the Aventine Hill. 175 Walz, 1961a, p. 65.

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Sabina. Pope John XXII gave a confirmation letter on 21 August 1322.176 The theological school and the Chapel dedicated to Thomas would have been a perfect way to promote Aquinas’s memory in the Eternal City: it was Thomas himself who had organized a studium for friars in Santa Sabina in 1265.177 I would go further than Koudelka and add that the real impetus for the construction and dedication of the Chapel was the relic-gift which Pandulfus received at Fossanova, rather than his devotion alone. More in-depth studies on Thomas’s cult in Rome are certainly needed in the future if we are to assess O’Malley’s studies, for example, those in which he argues that Thomas’s cult did not achieve success even in the Roman Curia before the end of the fifteenth century.178 The existence of a 1339 legendary that contains the lessons for Thomas’s feast day from the chapter of Saint Peter alone suggests otherwise.179 It seems highly improbable that Thomas’s relic cult, which was in the care of the Savelli family—an important Roman baronial dynasty who also had strong connections to the Order of Preachers, or the celebrations of Thomas’s feast at Saint Peter—had little or no effect on the development of Thomas’s veneration in Rome.180 If we return to the altar panel itself for a momen—hereafter referred to as the Caetani panel—it is important to note the quality of the artwork. Angelo Tartuferi, among others, made a convincing argument that the panel was the work of Pietro Cavallini, a famous Roman artist from the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, although opinion on the matter is far from unanimous.181 At the beginning of the 1970s, Ilaria Toesca attributed an altar panel from the choir of the Cathedral of Anagni, very similar to the Caetani panel, to the school of Cavallini. Based on an inscription on a column and a piece of parchment found in a pouch of relics fastened 176 Koudelka, 1962, 138, pp. 141-142. 177 For more on Thomas’s stay at Santa Sabina, see Torrell, 1996, pp. 142-178; Walz, 1961b, pp. 57-69. 178 O’Malley, 1981. 179 See these Thomas lessons in BAV, ArchCap. San Pietro A. 9, fols. 88ra-89vb. There is also a later copy of this manuscript, nowadays with the shelfmark ArchCap. San Pietro A. 8, which is dated to the end of the fourteenth or the beginning of fifteenth century. At the beginning of the manuscript there is a reference that the lessons were designed to be read at the service of matins at Saint Peter’s Basilica. On the manuscripts, see Poncelet, 1910; Salmon, 1968. 180 Pandulfus had a strong relationship with the Kingdom of Naples, active in promoting Thomas’s cult: Koudelka, 1962, pp. 141-142. The family of Savelli had a personal link to Thomas’s memory in the sense that Honorius IV—the Pope who supposedly ordered the Corpus Christi liturgy from Thomas—was Pandulfus’s uncle. On Thomas’s memory in Renaissance Rome, see O’Malley, 1981; Geiger, 1981; Zucchi, 1938, pp. 93-96. 181 Tartuferi, 2004, pp. 82-83.

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behind the panel, Toesca dates the painting to the year 1316.182 This panel also represents Madonna cradling the child and a commissioner kneeling at the foot of the Throne. The subject of the panel is therefore the same as that of the Caetani panel. The attitudes and positions of the people depicted in the two panels are almost identical. Both panels certainly have cavalliniano features, but I cannot judge the attributions made by previous scholars.183 The most notable difference between the panels is their location: the Caetani panel was in the (papal) family Chapel, which was separated from the right nave of the Church space by a door or a gate if we look from the high altar. The second was in the choir of the canons. It is interesting that there were (at least) two almost identical altarpieces in the Cathedral, and both of them were dedicated to the relics of saints. The similarity in their composition, dedication, and function is witness to continuity in perception and presentation of the saints of the Cathedral by the canons of the chapter. Alongside the earlier altar panel the following saints and their relics were glorified, according to the inscriptions: pieces of the Holy Cross, Stephen, Lawrence, Gordianus, Hippolitus, Victor, Cesarius, Julianus, Sebastian, Epimachus, Paternianus, and Pancratius, as well as fragments of the crosses of Peter and Andrew, and stones on which Christ stood when he was baptized and when he ascended to heaven.184 We do not know how and when this relic collection ended up in the Cathedral. Presumably, the relics arrived separately, but who combined these pieces into a collection, when it was done, and why are open questions. Someone, however, invested in their cults, as the once beautiful and remarkable altar panel, with its golden parts and jewels, was painted to glorify them.185 Aside from the panel and the inscription of the column, nothing else that could tell us about the veneration of these saints survives in the chapter of the Cathedral.186 The Caetani Panel seems to be an updated version of the older one. The new version, however, presented just three saints, Thomas Becket, Thomas Aquinas, and Peter of Anagni. Thomas Becket was an archbishop of Canterbury, who defended the rights of the Church against King Henry II of England. He was murdered by four of the King’s knights in 1170, after which he became an even more famous advocate of the Church. Pope Alexander 182 According to the inscriptions, in 1316 the panel was renovated, which tells us that the original painting was older: Toesca, 1971-1972, pp. 145-163. Also Montaubin, 1997, p. 340. 183 For an interesting recent study of Pietro Cavallino is Fleck, 2010. Fleck def ines certain stylistic features as cavalliniani: Fleck, 2010, p. 115. 184 Toesca, 1971-1972, pp. 146-147. Cf. Belting, 1996, pp. 301-303. 185 Toesca, 1971-1972, pp. 145-163. 186 Montaubin, 1997, p. 340.

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III canonized him rapidly in Segni, not far from Anagni, in 1173. Thomas Becket’s cult became established in the papal city of Anagni, where it served to legitimize papal power in the southern parts of the Papal States. Despite its promotion by faithful lords of the Papal See, or perhaps because they promoted his cult, Thomas Becket was not venerated widely among the laity.187 According to his Vita, Peter of Anagni was appointed as the Bishop of Anagni to execute the Gregorian reform in the Bishopric. The later history of the Cathedral of Anagni indicates that Peter carried out his task very well.188 Peter died in 1105, and Pope Pascal II canonized him in 1109. The Pope asked the bishops in Southern Italy to include Peter’s cult in the liturgy of their bishoprics, but this had poor results. Thus, despite Peter’s acclaimed success in life, his cult was not particularly popular in the chapter of Anagni after his death.189 There are several indications that at the beginning of the 1320s, the chapter of Anagni began to promote Peter’s cult forcefully. First, Jacobus de Guerra, a canon of the Cathedral, organized an altar and dedicated it to Saint Peter on 11 February 1324. The altar was situated in the Chapel of Saint Magno, the Patron Saint of the City. On the wall behind the altar, Jacobus commissioned new frescoes which depicted Saint Peter of Anagni on the Throne, and the martyr Saints Aurelia and Neomisia on each side of the Throne. Then, in 1325, as we have already seen, Saint Peter was elevated liturgically and in other ways to the same glory as Saints Magno and Secondina, the patron and the co-patron of the City.190 On this occasion, Saint Peter also received an appropriate new liturgy, added to the sacramental and the lectionary of the Cathedral.191 The new Madonna and child altar panel—the Caetani Panel—praised Saints Thomas Becket, Thomas Aquinas, and Peter of Anagni and made their presence at the Chapel and the Cathedral more obvious. Although the panel was new, its composition, materials, and style emphasized the 187 An eager supporter of the cult was Giovanni da Ceccano. Giovanni was probably also involved in the chapel dedicated to Becket, which has a significant fresco-cycle from his life, in the Cathedral of Anagni. The Count of da Ceccano had brought Thomas’s relics from England and deposited them in some of the churches in his lands. It even seems plausible that he donated one to the Cathedral of Anagni or the family of Caetani: Caciorgna, 2000, pp. 350-351; Urciuoli, 2006, p. 271; Montaubin, 1997, p. 340. On Thomas Becket’s cult in general, see Farmer, 1969, pp. 598-601. 188 Montaubin, 1997, passim. 189 Caciorgna, 2000, p. 347; Montaubin, 1997, p. 340. According to Montaubin, the main reason for his unpopularity in Anagni was the fact that the corpse had been left in Segni after the death. 190 Montaubin, 1997, p. 340; Fenicchia, 1968, p. 664; Caciorgna, 2000, p. 347. 191 BAV, Chigi C.VI.174, C.VIII.235. See also Montaubin, 1997, pp. 307, 340.

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continuum of the artistic language of the Cathedral.192 It may also tell us something about the identity of the Cathedral, although it is not easy to be certain with just these two examples. In any case, it appears that the panel was consciously executed in the spirit of Cavallini. The Caetani panel represented and named the relics; not only that, it was an impressive relic in itself, which activated the saints every time anyone read the text or looked at the image.193 The presence of Thomas Becket, Thomas Aquinas, and Peter merged into the sacred circle of more traditional saints, the apostles and martyrs. Through their relics Thomas Becket and Peter of Anagni had long been present at the Cathedral of Anagni by the 1320s. On May 1325, when the altar panel was finished, Thomas Aquinas was a new saint, canonized only two years earlier. Among the reasons for the commissioning of the new panel may have been Thomas’s canonization and the presence of his bone-relic in the Cathedral, although the final impetus may have been the new ranking of Saint Peter of Anagni. The order in which the relics appear in the inscription of the altar panel is revealing, since it normally reflected the hierarchy of the medieval world. In this case, the relics presumably appeared in order of importance. The first in the list is Saint Thomas Becket. Thomas may have been elevated to a special position by the end of the thirteenth century, a sort of saintly patron of the Caetani family. At that time, Pope Boniface VIII—the most famous and powerful representative of the family—who had also been the canon of the Cathedral of Anagni and kept the papal residence in the city, constructed the new funeral chapel for his family in the Cathedral. This is the Caetani Chapel. Saverio Urciuoli states that the Chapel was consecrated in 1299, when the funeral monument with its decoration was finished. According to Urciuoli, in the eighteenth century Alessandro de Magistris investigated the funerary monument and claimed that the saints represented in the fresco above the sarcophagus were Thomas Becket and the protomartyr Stephen. Thomas Becket presents one representative of the Caetani family to Madonna, who was at the centre of the painting, and Stephen presents another.194 The fresco we see nowadays has been extensively renovated, so that is difficult to identify the people represented by using purely iconographic criteria. 192 According to Belting, it was a common usage to prepare new copies from older images to emphasize and legitimize their value: Belting, 1996, p. 14. 193 On ideas regarding an image which gained power and status from the relics it held and ways in which this kind of image was perceived: Belting, 1996, pp. 301-302. For images of the Virgin Mary and their tangibility as an aspect of meditation practices, see Heinonen, 2007, pp. 121-123. 194 Urciuoli, 2006, p. 266.

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Thomas Becket’s primary position in the inscription listing the relics of the Chapel would confirm the iconography of the fresco. Thus it was possibly Boniface VIII himself who had made Becket the heavenly protector of the Caetani family at the end of the thirteenth century.195 Thomas Aquinas’s relic is in the second position on the panel. The altar panel probably functioned as one introductory element in the veneration of Aquinas’s relic. Interestingly, the new funerary Chapel of the Caetani family, according to Urciuoli, was connected for the wedding of Roffredo III Caetani (d. 1335/36) and Giovanna Aquila (d. 1312/16), the only heir of the county of Fondi in 1299.196 Giovanna Aquila was a niece of Thomas’s sister Adelasia.197 It is certainly plausible that Roffredo or the children of their marriage enthusiastically took the bone of their relative to their funerary Chapel, and thereby promoted the cult. One promoter was Raynaldus, the commissioner, who was probably connected to the Caetani family. It seems that the family had great hopes for Thomas Aquinas’s cult. Affinity was not the only reason for interest in the relic—the power it offered and the reputation of Thomas as a defender of the Catholic Church must have appealed to Boniface VIII. Saint Thomas Becket had also been a cornerstone of papal authority, so the two Thomases made a good pair.198 According to Gregory VII, the third member of the trinity, Peter of Anagni, was also a faithful reformer, so the choice of him as the third, whose relic received special attention at the Caetani Chapel, seems natural. The altar panel helped to elevate Peter of Anagni’s value in Anagni. Montaubin has pointed out that at the beginning of the fourteenth century, the Cathedral had certain status as the family church of the Caetani clan, and the spirit of Boniface lived on powerfully there, just as still it lived in the city and 195 Montaubin mentions some other objects that represent Thomas Becket, in the possession of Pope Boniface VIII at the Cathedral: Montaubin, 1997, p. 340. Thomas Becket’s cult and his significance to Pope Boniface VIII and the Caetani family have not received any specific attention from Italian scholars lately. For example, Maria Teresa Caciorgna has studied Giovanni da Ceccano’s unsuccessful attempt to spread Thomas’s cult, but the acts of the Caetani clan in that same field have remained unnoticed: Caciorgna, 2000, p. 351. 196 Urciuoli, 2006, p. 265. The need for the Chapel was merely representative as the family already had a funerary chapel at the Cathedral. The matrimony was enthusiastically encouraged and organized by Pope Boniface. On this theme, see Caetani, 1927, pp. 94-95; Forte, 1972, pp. 179-191; Waley, 1973. 197 Caetani, 1927, p. 99; Forte, 1972, pp. 178-179. 198 The connection between the two Thomases was their services for the good of the Church and of Christ. Probably because they were namesakes, they have also been depicted together elsewhere, and the Apostle Thomas has reunited them. Perhaps the most famous example is the triptych of the three Thomases in Wismar: Albrecht and Albrecht, 1998, pp. 63-72.

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in the large dominions of the family.199 The new altar panel tells us of this spirit, just as it also tells us about the Caetani saints. The altar panel of the Caetani Chapel, the relics of the saints to whom the panel was dedicated, the other decoration of the space, the objects of worship, and finally, the whole Chapel manifested the power of the Caetani family in the southern part of the Papal States and beyond.200 Anagni was the centre of their realm. It appears that Pope Boniface VIII began to construct a twin city of Rome in Anagni.201 There has been some speculation that Arnolfo di Cambio was the sculptor of the funeral monument in Anagni, as he had done several works for the Caetani Pope in Rome. Arnolfo di Cambio and Pietro Cavallini were the most famous artists in Italy at the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Both did much work in the Eternal City and several artworks in Anagni are also attributed to them. Unfortunately, Anagni declined in the middle of the fourteenth century.202 Caetani power, however, did not die. In the next section we will see how the Caetani perceived their family saints, especially Thomas Aquinas, and used his dust in the construction of their family dominion.

The treasure in Fondi Thomas’s family was active in promoting his cult. Several members were personally devoted to him, as we have already seen. An example of the utility of the Saint to a family-member is the case of Saint Thomas and Honoratus I, the Count of Fondi. This is extensively documented in the Dominican Historia translationis text, but some other literature and iconography has survived as well. What was Thomas’s significance to Honoratus, and how was the relationship between the Saint and the Count presented in sources from different traditions and genres? Honoratus I Caetani became one of the leading figures in South Italian politics in the fourteenth century. He is especially famous because of his participation in the Western Schism on the side of Pope Clement VII at the end of the century.203 Honoratus was the first son of Nicola I Caetani and 199 Montaubin, 1997, p. 346. 200 Urciuoli, 2006, p. 269. The whole Chapel has been covered by the frescoes, the oldest of them dated to 1300. Unfortunately, today only fragments of the paintings on the walls of the Chapel remain: Bruni and Malatesta, 2006, pp. 283-284. 201 Urciuoli, 2006, p. 265. 202 Montaubin, 1997. 203 Ermini, 1938; Allegrezza, 1998, pp. 110-113; Negri Arnoldi, Pacia and Vasco Rocca, 1981, pp. 9-11.

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Giacoma Orsini, born at the Castle of Fondi c. 1336. Nicola and Giacoma were descendants of significant families in the politics of Southern Lazio and Honoratus benefited from their heritage.204 Honoratus’s father died around 1348, and the son inherited the county of Fondi. As he was a minor, and his mother Giacoma ruled until he came of age.205 Honoratus’s inheritance and title of Count was confirmed by Queen Joanna I of Naples in 1352. From this date, he began to acquire new dominions in the northern areas of the Kingdom of Naples as well as in the southern parts of the Papal States (southern Lazio).206 Honoratus’s expansionist politics have eclipsed other aspects of his life. Among scholars, Mario Forte has given some attention to his devotional activities, but without much detail.207 For example, the Dominican writers gave Honoratus a major role in the translation of Thomas’s remains into the Order’s possession and to their church in Toulouse, but the spiritual and political implications of this have been largely ignored by scholars. It was Honoratus who handed over Thomas’s remains to the Dominicans. Before that, according to the surviving documentation, he transported them twice to his castle in Fondi. The first time was presumably in 1349 or 1354. The Dominican tradition gives the first date, the Cistercian tradition the second. The earlier date is too early, as will become clear from several details discussed below. More convincing is 1354, although even this may be incorrect. The Dominican tradition adopted 1349 as the turning point in the history of Thomas’s remains, because it enabled them to reinterpret the prophesy Thomas pronounced when he entered Fossanova (examined in the first chapter).208 The Dominican texts claim that Honoratus returned the corpse to Fossanova, but after a while he again saw his chance to take the relics back to the Castle. The second time, he kept the corpse for ten years before he gave it to the Dominicans.209 The earliest text that describes Count Honoratus’s handling of Thomas’s remains is a document compiled from a dictation of Petrus de Tardo, a Cistercian monk who visited Fossanova as the official visitator of Cîteaux in 1358.210 In the document he describes how, while he was staying at the Monastery, he was told about events that had occurred in Fossanova about four years before: 204 Allegrezza, 1998; Caetani, 1927. 205 Regesta chartarum 1350.VII.16; Caetani, 1927. 206 Ermini, 1938, p. 1; Allegrezza, 1998, pp. 111-112; Forte, 1972, pp. 219-220; Labande, 1973. 207 Forte, 1972, pp. 235-236; Caetani, 1927, p. 287. 208 Alia historia translationis 1. 209 Historia translationis, pp. 85-90. 210 Jacquin, 1923; Parziale, 2007, p. 37.

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Because of the disturbance caused by wars, a great number of monks had left the Monastery, leaving just two or three old monks to watch over the place for the duration of the raging wars. Having knowledge of this, the Count of Fondi, whose parents and ancestors had been the founders of the Abbey, went wisely to the Monastery and when he found the place where Thomas’s body was hidden, he took it with its ivory coffin and two valuable plates from his altar from the aforesaid Monastery and carried them to the Castle of Fondi. In the castle he placed the corpse in his own room.211

In this way, Petrus narrates the disasters the Monastery had suffered in the middle of the fourteenth century. The description of abasement is rather general.212 The Dominican writers give us more information on the wars in the local area. In his Historia translationis, Raymonus Hugonis explains that the Count of Fondi was in war with another nobleman in 1349, which he presumed to have been the Lord of Priverno.213 The ‘Lord of Priverno’ was most probably Tommaso II da Ceccano.214 Although Priverno was officially a free commune, the counts of Ceccano traditionally had great influence there. We know, for example, that around the year 1350, the question of hegemony over the other free town nearby, Sezze, was acute between the families of Caetani and da Ceccano. At some stage before summer 1350, Tommaso II da Ceccano persuaded Cardinal Annibaldo da Ceccano, his brother, to threaten Giacoma, Honoratus’s mother, with excommunication if she did not withdraw from Sezze. Giacoma with her infant sons sought the protection of the Pope himself via Leonardus Tacconi, the Bishop of Fondi. Giacoma seems to have won the battle.215 Finally, the town of Priverno 211 Jacquin, 1923, p. 292: ‘propter guerrarum disturbia, plures monachi illam abbaciam relinquerant, dimissis ibidem duobus vel tribus antiquis fratribus qui locum, durante guerrarum rabie, custodirent. Quod intelligens nobilis dominus comes Fundorum, cuius parentes et antecessores fuerunt illius abbacie fundatores, ad eamdem accessit et, comperto ubi sacrum corpus beati Thome erat in ecclesia absconditum, ipsum cum capsa eburnea in qua erat reclusum, cum duabus tabulis preciosissimis ad altare sancti Thome pertinentibus, de dicta abbacia Fundis transtulit et in camera propria collocavit’. 212 Parziale presents the wars between Louis IV the Bavarian (1328-1346) and John XXII (13161334) as the background to the described decline of Fossanova: Parziale, 2007, p. 37. 213 Historia translationis, p. 85. 214 Paravicini Bagliani, 1979. I am grateful to Professor Maria Teresa Cagiorgna for sharing her thoughts with me on several occasions with regard to Honoratus’s involvement with Thomas’s relic case. 215 Regesta chartarum C-1350.VII.16; Caetani, 1927, pp. 279-280. On Leonardus Tacconi, see Forte, 1972, p. 546.

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rebelled against Tommaso da Ceccano, and a destructive war followed c. 1354-1355, exactly the years of which Petrus speaks.216 Petrus de Tardo does not, however, blame either of the Counts Honoratus or Tommaso or their wars for the decay. Petrus describes Honoratus’s visit to the Monastery in such a way that he leaves open the question of whether Honoratus saved the remains by taking them from an unsafe place to the security of his Castle, or simply seized the opportunity to plunder Fossanova and acquire the remains for himself. However, Petrus emphasizes that the Count took Thomas’s remains and some valuable objects from the shrine but mentions no other theft, subtly suggesting that the Count was devoted to Thomas and wished to protect his relics. By specifying that Honoratus carried the objects to his room Petrus implies that the Count wanted them for personal devotion. Once again, the Dominican writers are more specific. In several of their texts, the friars explain why the Count took the relics. Raymundus, for example, writes: The Lord [of Priverno] would receive Thomas’s corpse from the monks in order to sell it to Louis, King of Naples, who was the most sincere protector of the Dominican Order. With this money the Lord would have armed more men and defeated his adversary, the Count of Fondi.217

Thus, the Dominicans emphasize that Honoratus took the relics from the Monastery because he was aware that the Lord of Priverno wanted to sell 216 Falco, 1988, p. 635; Paravicini Bagliani, 1979. The peace stipulation was in 1357. On the continuous wars between da Ceccano and Caetani in the fourteenth century, see Caetani, 1927, pp. 241-280. 217 Historia translationis, p. 85. ‘reciperet sive auferret a monachis sacrum corpus beati Thome ut ipsum postea venderet regi Cecilie nomine Ludovico, ordinis Predicatorum sincerissimo dilectori, et quod haberet inde pecuniam, cum qua faceret homines armorum, et sic cum illis vinceret adversarium suum Comitem Fundorum’. The role given to Louis in the Dominican texts is interesting. First of all, in 1349 he was not yet officially crowned as the King of Naples. Defining him as such in the contemporary documentation does not, however, seem to have been unusual: see, for example, Regesta chartarum C-1351.XII.10. A suspicion arises in regard to the nature of the story when one considers first Honoratus’s young age in 1349, and then his education at the court of Joanna I and Louis in Naples. It may be that the story is more literary than real when it comes to the role of the King. Honoratus does seem to have enjoyed the favours of the regent couple, as his paternal heritage and vast patronage over the lands around Fondi were confirmed at the court in 1352. At the same time, he was entitled Chamberlain of the Court, a title which was a mark of special favour as well as involving a long sojourn in Naples while he was educated for this position: Ermini, 1938, p. 1; Forte, 1972, pp. 219-220.

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Thomas’s body to Louis of Naples.218 Louis would have bought the remains of the Dominican saint because of his fervent devotion towards the Order, and the Lord of Priverno would have financed his war against Honoratus. How should we interpret the texts: did Honoratus steal the relics from Fossanova? According to Petrus de Tardo, the Count simply arrived in the Monastery and took what he wanted without negotiating with anybody. If Petrus implied that the act was a relic robbery, it would have been a serious offence. Both parties involved, the Count as well as the monastery that allowed it, could have been punished by papal excommunication.219 Apart from the lack of open condemnation noted above, however, Petrus also emphasizes the debt that the Monastery owed to Honoratus’s ancestors, its founders. By implication Thomas, the Saint of Fossanova, also had a link with them. It seems that Petrus not only explains and justifies Honoratus’s acts, but implies that in the battle over the territory, the advantage lay with him. This justification of Honoratus’s act was remarkable in late medieval culture. Without the kin relationship, the Count’s initiative would have been perceived as reprehensible by contemporaries. 220 It was no longer acceptable for lay patrons to interfere in the ways monasteries handled their relics without a very good reason. Moreover, permission for the translation should have come from the local bishop or the pope.221 Petrus ends his description by explaining how Honoratus submitted Thomas’s body and all the other valuable objects with a great solemnity and large company to the Monastery of Fossanova, where they first had laid. Honoratus transported the sacred corpse of blessed Thomas with the deepest devotion and swore to protect the Monastery with all his strength from that day on.222 Eventually, according to Petrus de Tardo, the process had a happy ending. A magnificent banquet was organized at the Monastery to honour the Count as well as Thomas’s body.223 As a final result, Petrus makes it clear that the restoration 218 On the selling of relics, see Geary, 1994a, pp. 177-218; Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, pp. 339-354. According to Herrmann-Mascard, the Lateran Council of 1215 forbade the selling of relics, but this did not prevent the practice from continuing. 219 Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, pp. 332-334. On controlling local nobility in similar cases: Bozóky, 1999, p. 283. 220 On the rights, duties and benefits of the lay patrons in the Cistercian monastic community, see Jamroziak, 2005, pp. 28-31. On the rights of nobility to protect the property, and also the religious entities and their objects, see Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, p. 332. 221 On the legality of the transportation of relics in the Late Middle Ages, see HerrmannMascard, 1975, pp. 329-339. 222 Jacquin, 1923, pp. 293-294. 223 Jacquin, 1923, p. 294.

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of Thomas’s remains, once the situation had calmed down, was the Count’s duty, as he was the protector of the Abbey. Strictly speaking, Honoratus’s ancestors were not the founders of the Monastery of Fossanova. The da Ceccano family, the family of Tommaso II, Honoratus’s main adversary, and the family into which Francesca, Thomas Aquinas’s niece, was married, had taken the major role in its foundation.224 Naming of the lay patrons was no minor detail, and Honoratus cannot have been mistakenly identified as a descendant of the secular founders of Fossanova. In all monastic communities, the lay patrons had a central role in the commemoration rites of the Abbey.225 In Petrus’s text, the claim that the Caetani family were the patrons of Fossanova is so explicit that there has to be a suspicion that the story was rewritten in its entirety. Count Honoratus had taken control of the lands around the Monastery and the Abbey as well. To gain control of the religious community and its patron saint was not, however, as simple as gaining political dominion.226 More important than the action itself was probably a story about the transportation-translation of Thomas’s corpse. The story seems to have become a part of the monastic, and hence presumably the lay narrative tradition of the area. Finally, the public translatio of Thomas’s relics to Fossanova was an act which stabilized the position of the Count of Fondi as the lay master of the place, and as its supporter and protector.227 It is interesting how differently writers and genres can present the same event. The descriptions of the Dominican writers differ substantially from Petrus’, the Cistercian writer. Perhaps more surprising is that there are also notable differences in interpretation within the Dominican tradition. The longest, and presumably the oldest, Dominican text, written by Raymundus Hugonis by the order of Elias Raymundus of Toulouse, the Master of the Order, represents the most literal tradition of the Historia translationis. It is a rather long legend and more chronicle-like than the others. In the Dominican texts, the translation does not function as a legitimation of Honoratus’s dominion over the Monastery, but the Dominicans authorized him to move 224 Parziale, 2007, pp. 22-27. See also Annales Ceccanenses. 225 Jamroziak, 2005, p. 28. Emilia Jamroziak also gives interesting examples of politically charged cases in which a secular patron was changed in Cistercian houses. There are notable similarities between her cases and this one. See Jamroziak, 2005, pp. 71, 123-130. 226 On how political battles of power were masked behind the translations of saints’ relics in High Middle Ages: Bozóky, 1999, pp. 271-272. 227 It is worth noting that the count willed a notable sum of money, 1,000 golden florins, to the Monastery of Fossanova in his testament in 1363, when other local churches had to be content with much smaller amounts, c. 20-100 silver carlins (a small silver coin current in Naples and Sicily, see OED), Regesta chartarum C-1363.III.26.

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and protect Thomas’s corpse in the first place. Ultimately the main purpose of the Dominicans was undoubtedly to express the legitimacy of the Order’s possession of Thomas’s body through the Historia translationis text genre. Hence, Raymundus does not make any judgement on Honoratus’s action, but he depicts Honoratus’s acts as justifiable to protect himself from his rival’s attacks: the Count had heard about the plans of the Lord of Priverno from a monk of Fossanova. With the monk’s help he and some associates succeeded in appropriating Thomas’s remains.228 Raymundus does not give any hint of despoliation of the Monastery either. From Raymundus’s viewpoint, the justification of Honoratus’s seizure of the relics from Fossanova was perhaps the medieval idea that nobles had the rights to protect their interests. This self-protection was usually seen as a sufficient explanation even of relic robbery, or better still, it transformed robbery into semi-legal translation.229 Another Dominican text about the same events has been written for liturgical purposes. It contains nine lections for the feast day of Thomas’s translation to Toulouse (28 January), to be read during the matins. The text, however, is edited without the lesson division and named as Alia historia translationis in Acta sanctorum, which can be misleading from the viewpoint of its function in liturgy.230 This is why I prefer to call the text lessons or liturgical readings rather than ‘the other story of the translation’. The lections are much shorter but probably inspired by Raymundus’s already finished text. In all probability, the composer is not Raymundus, given that there are so many differences in detail between these two texts. Here the writer of this text is referred to as the Anonymous. The Anonymous starts by describing the plans to steal Thomas’s remains, but ‘this sacrilegious plan did not remain secret to the famous Count of Fondi, honoured both for his virtues and his name’.231 The text judges the adversary of the Count, but Honoratus himself was merely a pious person, acting as God’s agent. Unconsciously, Honoratus fulfilled God’s will when he took Thomas’s body from the Monastery.232 This manner of representation, the praising not only of Thomas and his relics, but also their defender, should not surprise us if we remember the function of the text as a part of the liturgical reading. In other words, the Anonymous gives a perfect description of furtum

228 Historia translationis, p. 85. 229 Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, p. 332. 230 The division in the lections is, however, in existing breviaries, in manuscripts as well as in incunables. 231 Alia historia translationis 1: ‘Non latuit tamen tam seua profanitas virum inclytum, de Fundorum Comitibus, virtutibus Honoratum & nomine’. 232 Alia historia translationis 1.

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sacrum, a robbery that was willed by God and the Saint himself.233 Although Anonymous strongly emphasizes the sacred nature of the transportation, he does not forget the mundane justifications: according to him, with Honoratus in the translation was Leonardus Tacconi, the Bishop of Fondi.234 The presence of the local bishop is an indication that the transportation of the relics was legal.235 This small but important detail gives a much a more powerful justification of Honoratus’s act than the previous narrations. The transportation of Thomas’s body and the reasoning and justifications of the sources indicates the high value of the remains. Honoratus’s act and his overbearing attitude were probably seen as suspect, but emphasis on the negative side of his behaviour would have served neither the needs of the Cistercians’ nor those of the Dominicans. The writers find aspects of the act that they could interpret in a positive light, as righteous or even legal. The motivation for this kind of description for both the Cistercians and the Dominicans was their perception and understanding of Thomas’s corpse. The handling of the relics had to be acceptable, preferably respectful. If it was not, the value or authenticity of them would have been called into question. Neither the Cistercians nor the Dominicans had any urge to challenge the sacrality of Thomas’s corpse, or open the way for anyone else to challenge it. It would be a mistake to consider the texts described above simply as Cistercian or Dominican propaganda designed to highlight the sacral power of Thomas’s earthly remains. The texts have links to Honoratus’s political actions and devotion, just as the Historia translationis genre is usually interpreted to have.236 I have already argued that the Cistercian narrative gave Honoratus a new role as the protector of the Monastery of Fossanova, and probably also as the overlord of the surrounding area. Both the Cistercian and the Dominican traditions depict Honoratus using Thomas’s remains consciously as a central weapon in his power politics. As we have already seen, the Caetani of Fondi had even greater interests in the Fossanova region than the da Ceccano. Thomas’s relics were close to being a pawn in the political battle for dominion of the Priverno-Fondi district. Honoratus I and Tommaso II da Ceccano had the same goal: to become overlords of the area. They both trusted in Saint Thomas, who had become popular in the localities surrounding Fossanova and Priverno. Both of them also had a biological kinship to Thomas. 233 For a classic study on furtum sacrum, see Geary, 1990; also Geary, 1994a; Canetti, 2001. 234 Alia historia translationis 1. 235 Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, pp. 329-332. 236 See especially Geary, 1990.

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The relic casket was not just a valuable pawn for Honoratus, as he was Thomas’s devotee. Presumably Honoratus had grown up surrounded by tales of Saint Thomas and his links to the family.237 Thomas’s tomb was not far away, and the miracles that happened there may have been repeated often in Fondi, as well as in other nearby villages. Giacoma, Honoratus’s mother, appears to have been Thomas’s fervent devotee.238 Honoratus and Giacoma were close.239 Another person close to Honoratus was Leonardus Tacconi, the Bishop of Fondi. He was Honoratus’s tutor, together with Giacoma, after the death of Count Nicola, the father. It would be natural for a young man surrounded by veneration of Thomas to grow up believing in him. The sources offer some insights into the devotional side of Honoratus’s life. First of all, according to both the Cistercian and the Dominican literal traditions, Honoratus placed the relics in his own room (in camera propria) at the Castle of Fondi.240 The room seems to have been a sort of ‘all activity space’: First, it presumably functioned as his bedroom. Secondly, it had a place for writing, as we know that the Count’s testament was compiled in his own room. On that occasion, there were several men attending.241 Thirdly, it appears that the Count constructed a shrine for the relics in this room. As noted, according to Petrus de Tardo, the Count transported Thomas’s remains in their ivory coffin together with precious plates, presumably art works, from Thomas’s altar (shrine/tomb) in Fossanova to Fondi. The Count probably reconstructed the shrine with the objects and the relics he had brought from the abbey church. The idea of the domestic shrine receives more support from the text of the Anonymous Dominican, who depicts two ladies—Giacoma (or Giovanna), Honoratus’s mother, and the mother of the Bishop of Fondi—in vigil and praying by the coffin of the sacred corpse in the Count’s room.242 According to the sources presented above, the space was open for the Count’s extended family and his circle of 237 Neapoli LXXVII; Forte, 1972, pp. 178-179. 238 The anonymous writer as well as Petrus de Natalibus depicted the mother as venerating Thomas’s relics by the relic coffin: Alia historia translationis 2; Catalogus sanctorum, fol. 70r; Historia translationis, p. 87. 239 See, for example, Honoratus’s testament, in which he orders that he be entombed at the foot of the sarcophagus of his mother: Regesta chartarum C-1363.III.26; Caetani, 1927, p. 285. 240 Jacquin, 1923, p. 292. Historia translationis, p. 87. 241 Regesta chartarum C-1363.III.26. As we know, the relics’ presence had juridical aspects, especially in the early Middle Ages. However, the testament, compiled in 1363, does not make any reference to the relics. The division of the lord’s room as a space which contained both a bed and a desk seems to have been normal, at least among Tuscan nobility: de La Ronciére, 1987, pp. 178-180. 242 Alia historia translationis 2.

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acquaintances. For the family members, Thomas’s imposing presence in the Count’s room may have been a sign of fatherhood and protection, as well as of self-definition. For allies and servants, the shrine in the Count’s room may have served as a sign of Thomas’s mandate to Honoratus to possess power and patronage.243 Regardless of the profound respect in which Honoratus is said to have held Thomas, it is somewhat surprising to find a proper home altar with relics in the Count’s room. The custom of keeping relics, installing altars, or decorating one’s bedroom with an icon or other image of a saint was common, although towards the end of the Middle Ages one can sense that secular spaces were seen as inadequate for relics.244 As for altars and images, they became much more frequent in bedrooms, as well as in domestic space in general.245 John XXII was the first Pope to order that a saint’s relics had to be located in ‘a sacred place’, in 1317.246 Thus Honoratus, who conserved Thomas’s relic casket in his room, was theoretically defying papal wishes. The texts do not express any disapproval of his actions in locating the relics in the bedroom, however. Quite the contrary: all the writers, Cistercian as well as Dominican, indicate that the reason for the location was Honoratus’ deep veneration of Thomas. When the Count transported the relics from the Abbey to his castle for the second time, Saint Thomas himself showed his dissatisfaction. He appeared to Giacoma, Honoratus’s mother, and complained about practices disrespectful to his remains, as they were not constantly illuminated with candles. Giacoma understood that Thomas wanted his relics to be transferred to the Chapel of the Castle, which was done immediately. The Dominican writers describe the series of transportations as a phased transfer to their possession, the message being that the time was right for the final translation.247 Count Honoratus was shortly to understand this message.248 The presence of Thomas’s relics in the Count’s room was not only important to Honoratus as a devout man, but enabled him to express his kinship 243 Cf. Duby, 1987, pp. 51-53; de La Roncière, 1987, pp. 148-153. 244 Bynum, 1991, p. 271; Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, pp. 316-328. 245 On devotional life in domestic space, see Giovanni Dominici, Regola del governo, pp. 131133. Also, see Bornstein, 1998, pp. 188, 191; Belting, 1996, pp. 410-411; Lehmijoki-Gardner, 1999, pp. 64-65 and passim; Katajala-Peltomaa, 2009, p. 135; de La Roncière, 1987, pp. 179-180, 246-247. 246 Hermann-Mascard, 1975, pp. 313-339. 247 The message arrived through visions; Thomas appeared several times to Honoratus’s mother. The messages of Thomas’s apparitions were, as Jesse Keskiaho has pointed out in regard to early medieval visions in general, connected to the questions of authentication of the relics, confirmation of the saint’s status and presence and also his or her messages: Keskiaho, 2015. 248 Historia translationis, p. 87.

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with the Saint. With regard to the genealogy, there is one very interesting miracle recounted in Petrus de Tardo’s document. As noted above, when Honoratus took Thomas’s body from the Monastery in 1354 (according to Petrus de Tardo), he was still young—about eighteen years old. He had married Caterina del Balzo (died c. 1400) some two years earlier.249 Caterina was younger than Honoratus who, according to the Cistercian tradition, was very sad because he could not know his wife for a long time because of her young age. However, he desired offspring.250 Seeing his master’s sadness growing every day, the Count’s housekeeper, a Cistercian monk, predicted that if Honoratus returned the corpse to Fossanova, as that was Thomas’s own wish, he would be happier.251 The Count solemnly promised to do what the monk advised, and surprisingly, after the noble prince had approached his wife as was the custom, he learned that he had conceived a child.252 Honoratus and Caterina had a daughter, Giacobella, who, according to the document, would have been born around 1355 (d. 1412). The father appears to have been full of joy because of the new-born daughter, and organized a feast, possibly with a tournament. There, Honoratus’s beloved brother fell off his horse and injured himself: ‘Hence it happened that grief replaced extreme joy, and the feast of the Count completely turned into lamentation’.253 Honoratus again made an ex voto to Thomas, and swore to return the corpse to Fossanova within a few days if his brother was cured, which he was, and according to Petrus de Tardo, the Count fulfilled his promise.254 In late medieval and Renaissance Italy, the bedroom was regarded as the centre of married life, and the place where the future of the family could be assured in the shape of descendants. The choice of the bedroom as a location for the relics could thus be interpreted as a sign of Honoratus’s wish that the next generation of his family would be under Thomas’s protection.255 In this respect, Thomas was not a bad choice among the saints, as he had 249 Caterina was the sister of Francesco del Balzo, who was married to Margerita, the sister of King Louis. 250 Jacquin, 1923, p. 292. 251 With this statement the monk referred to Thomas’s own words ‘Hec requies mea in seculum seculi’, repeating them to the Count: Jacquin, 1923, p. 292. 252 Jacquin, 1923, p. 293. 253 Jacquin, 1923, p. 293: ‘Unde factum est quod luctus extrema gaudii occupavit et festum comitis versum est totaliter in lamentum’. 254 Jacquin, 1923, p. 293. The brother in question was in all probability Giacomo, with whom Honoratus closely cooperated until the Great Schism, when the brothers chose to support different popes. Cf. Ermini, 1938; Forte, 1972. 255 Cf. Strocchia, 1998, pp. 43-47; Duby, 1987, p. 54.

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used his thaumaturgic powers to assist other families. For instance, he helped with women’s labour problems and with marriage contracts, as the canonization reports testify.256 The later tradition of Thomas’s miracles emphasizes his reputation as the saint of marital problems. There is a lovely miracle story in the Renaissance style in Ferdinando del Castiglio’s work. According to Ferdinando, a young and recently married nobleman had no particular feelings towards his newlywed and avoided going home. He was unhappy about the situation and prayed for Thomas’s help. The young man promised a Mass to be chanted at Thomas’s altar if he was cured. The miracle happened, and he fell deeply in love with his wife.257 Although the case is slightly different from Honoratus’s, the underlying purpose of the miracles was the same—both noblemen desired a successful marriage, which implied successful production of heirs. The narrative tradition includes one more very interesting claim about Thomas’s kinship. The first source for this is the draft version of the Historia translationis. The first chapter—the same that describes the festivities around Thomas’s head-relic in Priverno (see Chapter 3, Becoming the Patron Saint of Priverno)—includes a very peculiar description of Thomas’s family. The beginning of the text emphasizes Thomas’s virtues, among them his size and nobility, then, according to Raymundus, the text continues: ‘[…] as it is told in histories, King Louis of Sicily, he [Thomas Aquinas], and King Peter of Aragon were the sons of three sisters’.258 The description is vague in that it does not name the sisters or specify whose mother each of them was. In any case, it is incorrect, since Thomas had no blood relationship to the queens whose sons reigned over the Kingdoms of Naples and Sicily.259 However, the claim that Thomas had royal blood was not an isolated occurrence. The same legend mentions elsewhere that Louis was Thomas’s relative.260 The claims of the draft version that Thomas had kinship with 256 Neapoli XVIII; De miraculis de s. Thomae III, pp. 79, 86. On healing of infertility, difficult labour and similar troubles, for example, see Park, 1998, pp. 129-132. 257 Castiglio 1589, p. 427. 258 Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, fol. 113v: ‘cum tamen, ut habetur in hystoriis, rex Ludovicus Sicilie, ipse et rex Petrus Aragonus essent filii trium sororum’. 259 The first king named Ludovicus on the throne of Naples was Louis of Taranto (crowned in 1352), the spouse of Jeanne I. The Petrus mentioned in the quote is probably Peter III of Aragon, the conqueror of the Island of Sicily during the War of the Sicilian Vespers (r. 1282-1285). As regards the age, Peter (b. 1239, d. 1285) could be Thomas’s approximately same age cousin, but Louis could not. The contemporary King of Naples was Charles of Anjou (b. 1226, d. 1285; r. from 1266). Here it should be remembered that the sovereign of Naples was also called the King of Sicily. 260 Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, fol. 114; Catalogus sanctorum, fol. 69v.

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the royal houses of Southern Italy are dramatic, but lack any foundation.261 In the later version of the Historia translationis, Raymundus omits the information that Louis or other royalty were Thomas’s first cousins. As I stated previously when discussing Priverno, the first chapter bears the local Southern Italian tradition. In the final version, the tradition has been ignored, probably to give more cohesion to the text and because it did not support or relate to its main message. The Master of the Dominican Order, together with his secretary Raymundus, may also have had serious doubts about including a bogus genealogy that was far too easy to disprove, and which would therefore have discredited the Historia translationis as a whole. The South Italian tradition did not, however, perish completely. A vestige seems to have survived in one edition of a Venetian Dominican Petrus de Natalibus’s Catalogus sanctorum from the year 1516.262 The work is organized following the liturgical year and the feast days of the saints. In January, Thomas’s translation feast is included. In it, Thomas’s genealogy is similar to Raymundus’s draft version, although here Thomas’s mother is not explicitly shown as one of the queens but she had two biological sisters who were queens. One was queen in Aragon and another in Naples.263 The Catalogus was successful, and several prints of the work were made in different presses and places, both before and after 1516 and long into the sixteenth century. However, only the 1516 copy, printed in Venice, includes the text for Thomas’s translation day. Its inclusion here, but absence from other editions, indicates that there were different manuscript versions circulating in Europe at the beginning of the sixteenth century. The Venetian copy may be significant in terms of the translation act, and the storing of its memory in the late fourteenth century; it is worth noticing that a unity which includes a copy of the draft version, the lections, and miracula of the translation are surviving uniquely from Venice. Originally the South Italian, probably oral, narrative tradition of Thomas’s royal family seems to have gained written and approved form only in Venice. However, an echo of it may have spread, as the Anonymous Dominican emphasizes that King Louis and Thomas were relatives in the lections. Anonymous, however, is careful when referring to Thomas’s ancestors; he did not claim the queens as his aunts, nor does he tell us what (if 261 In general, previous scholars have rejected any possibility of a blood relationship between these three people: Torrell, 1996, p. 3; Weisheipl, 1983, pp. 17-18. 262 Petrus’s collection is dated to the turn of the 1370s, but no medieval manuscript of the Catalogus sanctorum survives. 263 Catalogus sanctorum, fol. 104v.

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any) relationship he had to them. The document does nevertheless give an impressive account of the magnificent rituals and offerings the King made in an attempt to acquire the remains of his relative.264 Although the story of Thomas’s ‘royal family’ is false, there must be some reason for it. It probably has its origin in the period before the canonization, before the memory was standardized during that process, and especially by William of Tocco’s Ystoria. The roots of the belief that Thomas had royal blood can be found in a much older tradition, that of kings with thaumaturgic powers, called Les rois thaumaturges by Marc Bloch.265 This was a widely held belief, particularly in France and England. In the period when Thomas’s fame as a saint began to grow, his tales no doubt absorbed elements of old and established tradition connected to the miraculous power of healing. It is interesting to note that in the text of Ptolemy of Lucca, Thomas Aquinas’s disciple, the Angevin kings of Naples appeared for the first time on the Italian peninsula as thaumaturgs in the 1280s.266 According to Samantha Kelly, the strategy of the Angevins of Naples was to emphasize the sacrality of the ruling dynasty to attract followers and create an identity for them as followers of the Holy King.267 In the ambience in which the tradition of the thaumaturgic kings and the sacral royal family flourished, the same abilities may easily have been attributed to a new local saint. Interestingly, the old tradition of thaumaturgic powers had permanent consequences for Thomas’s fama sanctitatis. Thomas, rather atypically for his age—if we agree with Michael Goodich about fourteenth-century sanctity—remained purely a thaumaturgic saint. 268 According to his canonization processes and the Miracula, Thomas was involved in only a few non-healing miracles.269 Moreover, as a thaumaturgic saint Thomas specialized in diseases or infections of certain parts of the body—for example, the neck-throat area. As noted above, in the canonization process of Naples there was even testimony of a miracle in which Thomas’s touch cured scrofula.270 According to March Bloch, it was first scrofula and later 264 Alia historia translationis 2. 265 Bloch, 1989, p. 5. 266 Bloch, 1989, pp. 99-101. 267 Samantha Kelly also argues that the way in which the Angevins of Naples used their dynastic saint cult provided a model for other European dynasties and their allies to create an image and identity under the ruling family: Kelly, 2003, pp. 100-101, 119-13; also Jansen, 2001, pp. 303-332. 268 Goodich, 1995. Goodich has seen the sainthood of the fourteenth century as reflecting the disasters of the period: protective miracles increased notably. 269 See some statistics in le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, pp. 51, 55. 270 Neapoli LIV, LVI.

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other illnesses of the neck-throat area that were understood to be especially within the power of the sacred kings to cure.271 There are several biblical models for the choice of three kings or three queens, but a more interesting question than the origin of this model is the problem of why two kings of rival dynasties—and later kingdoms—were connected with Thomas in the saintly family portrait in the Dominican narrative tradition. The answer appears to be the wish of the Order to unite two separate parts of the Dominican Provincia Regni. Soon after the Province was created, the Southern Italian Dominicans began to dream of Thomas’s canonization. They wanted him to be nominated as the patron saint of the new Province. However, as the Province was divided between Angevin and Aragonese rulers after the War of the Sicilian Vespers, new methods of creating a common identity for the Province and its members needed to be found. I suggest that the story of the three princely cousins was an attempt to establish a sense of unity and identity among the friars of the Province. Nor were the Dominicans alone in creating links between the two halves of the former Kingdom of Sicily: Thomas’s relatives did not hesitate to use their connections to both royal families and their servants and emphasized their descent from the Saint to that purpose. Kin relationship was an important factor when the lords of Southern Italy tried to expand and control their lands. Its importance can be clearly seen in Teodora’s request to the monks of Fossanova that she receive Thomas’s hand-relic: she was able to do this as his sister. Similarly, according to the Dominican legends, King Louis referred to his kinship with Thomas when he claimed his right to possess the body—although he failed to obtain it. Despite all the benefits possession of Thomas’s body had for Honoratus Caetani, he gave the treasure away. It cannot have been an easy decision. The Dominican writers describe how several miracles and pressure from Honoratus’s mother, the King, the Cistercian monks and the Dominican friars were needed before Honoratus yielded. Anonymous, for example, claims that the Count refused to sell the relics to the King because they belonged to the patria, which I interpret here to mean more or less the lands that were the heart of Thomas’s cult.272 Among several possible recipients of the body, the Count finally chose the Dominican Order. The remains were initially transferred to the local Dominican Church of Fondi, and some months later they travelled to Toulouse. The sources tell of Honoratus’s wish that the relics would remain close to him at Fondi, but he had probably 271 Bloch, 1989, pp. 15-34, 206, and passim. 272 Alia historia translationis 2.

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known that he risked losing them once and for all when he decided to part with them. The Count’s renunciation of his treasure may well have originated in the political situation in the Papal States in the mid-1360s. At that time, Pope Urban V desired to return to Rome, and he had enemies among the Roman nobility. He needed allies to counter them, and found one in Honoratus I Caetani. In return for his collaboration with the Pope, he gained extraordinary power in Southern Italy.273 It is possible that the Dominicans somehow acted as mediators between these two powerful men. In any case, it was Urban V who decided which Dominican church would house Thomas’s remains. His choice fell on Toulouse, where he had previously done works for the benefit of the University and the surrounding city.274 In other words, the translation of Thomas’s remains from Italy to France was probably a result of an agreement between Honoratus Caetani, Pope Urban V, and Elias Raymundus of Toulouse, the Master of the Dominican Order.275 Two mural paintings in Santa Maria Maggiore of Ninfa can be interpreted as evidence of the translation that was organized by Honoratus, Pope Urban V, and the Dominican Order.276 The paintings, today in a very bad condition, are in the apsis of the Church, directly behind the altar. Of the frescoes that once adorned the apse, only two remain: the one representing Urban V sitting on the Papal Throne, the other Saint Thomas Aquinas, also on a throne.277 The identification of the Pope as Urban V is certain because he holds in his hands portrayals of the heads of Saints Peter and Paul, which Urban V had had translated from the Sancta Sanctorum to the Church of 273 Ermini, 1938, pp. 3-8. It seems that Honoratus had had long-term interests in Rome; in his testament in 1363 he willed considerable sums of money to the greatest churches of Rome and to two chapels of Saint Peter’s Basilica. In one of them was the tomb of Pope Boniface, a key figure in making the Caetani family wealthy and powerful: Regesta chartarum C-1363.III.26. He was appointed as a rector, a leading figure of South Italy, by the Pope: Forte, 1972, p. 221. 274 Delaruelle, 1955; Vones, 2004. 275 Lydie Hadermann-Misguich has claimed that the execution of the mural paintings of Ninfa was related to Count Honoratus’s personality (see the following paragraph of the text on the paintings). She vaguely connects the acts of the Count, Thomas’s relics and Pope Urban’s decision to transfer the remains to Toulouse, but does not come to any clear conclusion about their relationship: Hadermann-Misguich, 1989, pp. 305-306. 276 Ninfa is close to Sermoneta, in the dominions of the Caetani family. 277 Pope Urban has been depicted in several Dominican churches in Italy. Claudia Bolgia gives a list of mural paintings still surviving in Italian churches, and of panel paintings from Italian contexts: Bolgia, 2002, pp. 563-564. According to Osborne, the images of Urban V appeared across Europe in the 1370s and 1380s, when the campaign for his canonization peaked: Osborne, 1991, pp. 28-29.

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Saint John Lateran in Rome in 1368.278 The fresco of Thomas is more damaged than that of Urban, but portrays a man clothed in (presumably) the Dominican habit with an open book in his hand. The composition is similar to that in many other representations of Thomas.279 It is, however, rare to find such images side by side on the wall.280 The combination of the two paintings may indeed reflect Honoratus’s gratitude for his position of power in Southern Italy, which he received from the Pope with Saint Thomas’s help. The mural paintings are reminiscent of similar panel paintings and typical votive offerings.281 The offering might even refer to a specific occurrence: Count Honoratus’ purchase of Ninfa with the help of Urban V on 19 May 1369.282 It seems evident that Honoratus used the frescoes commissioned in Santa Maria Maggiore of Ninfa to display the foundation of his power at the time and his gratitude to those behind it, Pope Urban and Saint Thomas, his earthly and heavenly patrons. Thomas’s relics served his family as its members acquired some of the authority of the Saint. Thomas’s remains had a great impact on practical power politics, as saints’ relics had throughout the Middle Ages. From the family’s point of view, Thomas’s thaumaturgic powers had a minor importance. Petrus de Tardo’s document gives a picture of the precious body in an empty monastery without guardians. In addition, the document propagates Thomas through the acts of the Count: Fossanova and Honoratus may have had shared interests in helping the Abbey to flourish again by organizing the new translation of the relics. The Monastery received protection from the 278 According to Gelasio Caetani, there was once (probably at the time when Caetani did his study) an inscription in gothic letters over the fresco of the Pope, ‘Beatus Urbanus’. He claims that the purpose of the fresco was to honour the translation of Peter’s and Paul’s heads. He does not even mention the other fresco, representing Thomas: Caetani, 1927, p. 118. Cf. HadermannMisguich, 1989, pp. 299-300; Osborne, 1991. 279 Hadermann-Misguich, 1989, pp. 302-304. 280 In Italy, Ninfa is, as far as I know, the only place where Urban V and Thomas are depicted side by side. 281 Claudia Bolgia argues that pictures of Pope Urban V were commissioned as an act of gratitude by people or clergy for cures that they had benefited from or heard of as occurring through his meditation: Bolgia, 2002, p. 562. 282 Caetani, 1927, p. 287; Ermini, 1938, pp. 4-5. The f irst actions Pope Urban V took to help Count Honoratus appear in sources from 1368: the Pope helps the Count against his rebellious family, in June 1368. Evidently Urban V removed the excommunication on Count Honoratus and his wife Caterina, which had been in force since 28 October 1368: Caetani, 1927, 286. It is no coincidence that at the beginning of August, Urban V had received Thomas’s corpse and head at Montefiascone after their transfer from Fondi and Priverno. Lydie Hadermann-Misguich has dated the painting of the murals to c. 1380, whereas the traditional dating has been 1372-1382: Hadermann-Misguich, 1989, p. 302.

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Count and the newly activated patron saint. The Saint himself, as a member of the lordly family, was a logical choice as the saint of the Castle and its habitants. The source material used here offers a picture of a man—Honoratus—to whom the family and its welfare was important, and who valued Thomas as an important member of the family. Petrus de Tardo’s document suggests that in the local tradition, Thomas was also perceived as a founder of the future lordly dynasty. Other information and sources on Thomas’s relatives suggest that the transportation of Thomas’s corpse was linked to the Count’s desire for local hegemony in and around Fossanova. This does not, of course, mean that he was not also deeply devoted to Thomas’s relics. The awareness of Thomas’s tomb and his presence was widespread in the frontier area of Lazio and Campania at the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The Saint had achieved a deep cultural significance, which can be seen especially in the rise of Thomas, unusual for a mendicant saint, to the position of patron saint and co-patron of Priverno, replacing its traditional patron. First and foremost, Thomas’s significance was based on his well-known thaumaturgic powers and his local connections. As the descendant of an esteemed noble family, Thomas’s sanctity and his relics were efficiently utilized in political discourse as well as in the more traditional activities of saints.

4

Written Remembrance of the Remains Oh, why does Fossanova keep these bones of the venerable Thomas? I beg that they could be moved from there and be kept by the Dominicans.1

With these words, the famous Dominican preacher Remigio de’ Girolami (c. 1240-1319) expressed what must have been the prevalent Dominican opinion regarding Thomas’s body: it would have been both justified and natural to place the spiritual brother and praised saint of the Dominican Order in one of its own churches. However, complaints, demands, and explanations to that effect fell on deaf ears at the beginning of the fourteenth century. It is significant that the corpse did not belong to the Dominicans, who formulated the official image of the Saint and played the greatest role in promoting Thomas’s cult, especially after his canonization in 1323. The Cistercians of Fossanova kept the corpse to themselves till the middle of the fourteenth century, when the Count of Fondi, Honoratus I, took Thomas’s remains to his castle, as we have seen in the previous chapter. The determination of the Dominicans to gain custody of Thomas’s body is reflected in the fervour with which they pursued this end. In the process, they produced a lot of material about Thomas’s death and his corpse, which either directly or indirectly broached the subject of its location. In this chapter I will examine the Order of Preachers’ management of Thomas’s relic cult in a situation in which they—and in particular the Southern Italian convents—did not hold his relics. Despite their failure to gain custody of the relics, the Dominicans nevertheless venerated them and promoted the relic cult through their activities. I will trace the ways in which they created the presence of the body among themselves and the lay audience, especially through literature and liturgy, but to a lesser extent also objects. How did they or the non-Dominican audience perceive this body created by performance? In this broad discussion the question of ownership of the corpse functions as the thread for my analysis. The canonization of Thomas Aquinas was celebrated with all the pertinent festivities in Avignon in Southern France in July 1323. The canonization signified that a saint, who was first locally accepted and venerated, possibly in different communities, and whose memory varied from place to place, became 1 ‘Heu nova cur Fossa / tenet hec venerabilis ossa? / Obsecro tollantur, / a fratribus hec teneantur’: Salvadori, 1901, p. 505.

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universally recognized by the Pope, who also confirmed her or his official Life. Although the canonization might be thought to have contributed to a standardization of the cult, memories and interpretations of Thomas’s corpse continued to be multi-layered and varied, even among the Dominicans.

A problematic possession in the hagiography After Thomas’s canonization, the General Chapter of the Order of Preachers gathered in 1324. The record of the assembly begins with an announcement of Thomas’s official sanctity and his new position in the Order. Rubrics about Saint Thomas’s veneration were given: first, the venerable Doctor had to be celebrated among the Dominican saints of the highest rank. Secondly, he had to be called immediately after Saint Dominic, the father of the Order, in the saints’ litanies. Thirdly, his feast day had to be celebrated according to the Office from the Common of a Confessor until a proper office for Thomas’s feast day could be composed.2 Although the Acts of the General Chapter mention only the standardization of the liturgy proper, official texts and iconography congruent with the texts were designed to keep Thomas’s memory alive. Thus, the Dominicans began to remodel the perception of Thomas’s life, standardizing the old models, and emphasizing those of his characteristics that were seen as suitable and doctrinally correct. The image of the Saint that began to form was aimed first and foremost at the friars, but also at the laity. There follows an examination of the Dominican textual tradition related to Thomas’s corpse, using such works as William of Tocco’s Ystoria and Bernard Gui’s Legenda and Speculum sanctorale. These texts were composed for use among the Dominicans, and anyone else who may have been interested in them throughout Europe. They inform us of the Order’s opinion about the location of Thomas’s corpse in Southern Italy. Like hagiography in general, they first describe a situation in which an oral tradition of sainthood grew up, raising the prospect of future canonization. From the oral tradition was created an extraordinary person of flesh and blood. Finally, the narratives related Thomas’s bodily presence to his activity as a friar, thus making an unequivocal statement that the corpse was Dominican property. It is this last aspect of the tradition that makes Thomas’s case special; in the Dominican legends Thomas’s ‘corporeal history’ functioned as testimony that his remains belonged to the Order. 2

Acta capitulorum generalium, p. 151.

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William of Tocco wrote his Ystoria sancti Thome de Aquino while the canonization process was in progress. As mentioned in the first chapter of this book, William gave the first version of the Ystoria to Pope John XXII with the petition to begin the process in 1318. Claire le Brun-Gouanvic states that the last (fourth) version was finished immediately after the canonization process was concluded in July 1323.3 I consider the Ystoria Thomas’s ‘official’ biography in the sense that the impetus to compose the work emerged in the Dominican Provincial Chapter of Gaeta, alongside the decision to promote Thomas’s canonization. Moreover, it was examined with other canonization material at the Papal Curia. In other words, because the Ystoria is the first proper biography, it enjoys an important position in the hagiography of Thomas. It is worth noting that William, the writer, was South Italian himself and we can presume that his text in some way strongly reflects the culture from which he came. In the Ystoria, William explaines thoroughly why and how Thomas was a Dominican friar. By emphasizing Thomas’s life as well as his afterlife, William implicitly justifies the Order’s claim to Thomas and his corpse. The Ystoria begins before Thomas’s birth. In the second chapter of the legend, William tells us how a hermit visited Thomas’s pregnant mother Theodora. The hermit prophesied the baby’s future, announcing that he would be a boy, who should be named Thomas. Later, the hermit said, the boy would enter the Order of Preachers and enlighten the world with his knowledge and sanctity. 4 William thus argues that the fate of Thomas’s body was already sealed before his birth. The prophesy was a new element, not found in the earlier literary tradition of Thomas’s youth.5 After William, the pre-birth prophesy became a fixed part of the Dominican textual tradition, and received iconographic expressions too, as discussed in the previous chapter in connection to Roccasecca. An abundant processing of the theme attests to the importance of the prophesy for Thomas’s cult and its definition for the Dominicans. The prophesy began to be realized, according to William, when Thomas entered the Order of Preachers in c. 1244.6 The textual tradition gives the impression that Thomas entered the Dominican Order without the permission of his family. In fact, the legends describe how Thomas’s relatives 3 Le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, p. 16. 4 Ystoria XCVII. Different types of announcements in connection to the birth are the norm in hagiography: Penco, 1988, pp. 81-97. 5 Before William’s, a brief description of Thomas’s childhood, i.e. noble birth and early education, is given by Ptolemy of Lucca, Historia eccl. XXII, XX. 6 Ystoria VII.

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tried to bring him home by capturing him when he attempted to escape to Paris. They kept him in custody in the family castle, hoping that he would renounce the habit of the Order into which he had entered. Despite this pressure, Thomas stuck to his decision. In the end, it was Thomas’s family, especially his mother, who renounced all rights to the son. From that point on Thomas had only one family, the Dominican Order. The story of Thomas’s entry into the Order of Preachers had already become a constant theme in Dominican literature in the 1250s, when Thomas himself was still alive.7 For William, entering the Order seems to have become a cornerstone for everything. He creates a new interpretation, a certain rite of transition, to demonstrate Thomas’s maturity, the firmness of his decision, and especially his sainthood by the first steps that he made as a Dominican, as a good, obedient, and exemplary member of the Order.8 In the Middle Ages, a habit often functioned as both a real and a symbolic sign that the wearer had renounced the world and joined the Order.9 It is therefore surprising that William used the symbolism of the habit only in the last version of the Ystoria. Before William, Ptolemy of Lucca had made use of it in his Historia ecclesiastica nova, which he finished c. 1316.10 Even the addition that William eventually made appears more as a simple description of events than anything symbolic: ‘friar Thomas of Lentini, a man of excellent reputation, who was the Prior of the Neapolitan convent, clothed Thomas with the habit of the Order’.11 These words form the last sentence of the chapter. Several other additions in William’s last version are connected to Naples, and the Neapolitan wishes regarding the canonization. This makes it likely that William completed the Ystoria in the convent of the City. Thomas’s joining of the Order in San Domenico Maggiore defined him 7 Thomas’s youth has received special treatment in some studies: the classic one of Mandonnet, 1924-1925. Recently, the theme has been studied especially by Tilatti, 2003; Räsänen, 2010. According to Vauchez, the emphasis on belonging to a religious Order, that is the spiritual family, became central in Mendicant hagiography from the end of the thirteenth century onwards: Vauchez, 1977a, pp. 404-405. On textual tradition, see Canetti, 1996, p. 444, note 409; Kaeppeli, 1975, pp. 35-38 and 1993, pp. 344-355. 8 Tilatti, 2003, pp. 353-355. On the biblical model of the transitional rite, see Penco, 1988, p. 85. 9 The renunciation of the worldly habit was often a part of the transitional rite: Penco, 1988, p. 85. One of the most famous examples of renunciation of secular clothes comes from the Life of Saint Francis. 10 Historia eccl. XXII, XX. Generally, on the difference between the Historia eccl. and the Ystoria: Dubreil-Arcin, 2011, p. 82. 11 Ystoria VII: ‘Quem predicti ordinis habitum induit frater Thomas de Lentino, tunc prior Neapolis, uir celebris opinionis et fame’. See also the comments of the editor on the same page.

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as a Neapolitan friar and the Neapolitan convent as his home, something that was clearly important to the local friars in 1323 and which they tried also to emphasize throughout William’s text.12 Shortly after the canonization, however, Thomas’s connection with Naples became a sensitive issue, an issue I will look at in the last section of this chapter. As noted, William was the first to produce a systematic narrative of Thomas’s life among the Order of Preachers. Nevertheless, when William described Thomas’s death, he did not place any particular emphasis on Thomas’s Dominican status. As we have already seen in Chapter I, his explanation of the words, ‘This is my rest for ever and ever’—which for the Cistercians were important evidence that Thomas belonged to Fossanova—carried no particular weight, and were unlikely to persuade anybody that they simply constituted an announcement of approaching death. In medieval ambience, similar sentences were commonly attributed to saints when they ordered their final resting place. Normally they were interpreted literally.13 Contemporaries would have recognized the commonplace of the narration and William’s interpretation did nothing to persuade them that the words had no relevance to Thomas’s resting place. William’s rather bland description of Thomas’s last days, his death, the miraculous story of the pre-birth, and spectacular capture and release of the young man who wanted to join the Order of Preachers were undoubtedly meant to convince the reader or listener of the Ystoria that there was no room for dispute over Thomas’s corpse: for William himself, and possibly other Dominican friars like him, it was self-evident that it belonged to the Order of Preachers from the very moment of the conception. The charged narrative of the beginning of Thomas’s life is possibly the explanation for the understated narrative thereafter. Treating the Dominican ownership of Thomas’s remains as self-evident and perhaps hoping to convince the reader of the Dominican right to them in the first chapters of the Ystoria, William continues his understated narration by describing what happened after the funeral: After this [funeral] the Abbot thought that as the burial place of the Doctor was commonly known, his corpse would have been transferred away by the friars of Thomas’s Order using the permission of the Pope, who had ordered that the Monastery be a temporary depositary of the 12 On the concept of ‘home convent’, see Hinnebusch, 1965, p. 218. 13 A good example of a saint who was moved by order to another funeral place is Anthony of Padua: Vita prima di S. Antonio, as noted already in Chapter II.

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remains. For this reason, the Abbot organized a transport of the corpse to the Chapel of Saint Stephen, next to the cloister, in secret.14

William practically states that according to the Pope, Thomas’s corpse belonged to the Dominican Order, but he had ordered that it remained at the Monastery temporarily until the friars were ready to move it. No such papal comment appears in any source other than the Dominican legends, but the Pope had supreme authority regarding placements and translations of saints’ relics. He had a power to order one community to give up a saintly body to another, but if he intervened in Thomas’s case, it was merely because the quarrel, not yet the sanctity of the corpse.15 William’s reference to the impermanence of Thomas’s stay at Fossanova may reflect the need to bury the body there while it underwent a normal process of decay, as discussed in Chapter II. Such a procedure would have been necessary if the journey to the closest Dominican convent had been longer, but Gaeta was reachable in two days, and a transfer there in early March should not have involved any risk to potential saintly reputation or general health. It is more likely that William is making an oblique reference to the Fossanova community’s refusal to give the body to the friars. Such a reference to the impermanence of the arrangement was practical, as the reader of the text would probably have understood that the time was not yet opportune for the transfer of the corpse, but that the transfer would eventually be made: William’s avoidance of any specific conditions for transfer left the possibility—or perhaps inevitability—open. The Dominicans may have seen their moment coming twice when Dominican popes were elected: first Innocent V in 1276, and then Benedict XI in 1303-1304.16 If these popes tried to transfer Thomas’s remains to the Dominican Order, they were unsuccessful. In any case, there was little time for any such plans to be fulfilled, as both popes reigned for less than a year. Nor is there any evidence that John XXII supported William’s ideas of the Dominican possession of Thomas’s corpse at the time of the canonization. 14 Ystoria LXVI: ‘Post hec autem cogitans praedictus abbas quod notus erat locus in quo corpus doctoris erat humatum et quod posset eis auferri, procurantibus sui Ordinis fratribus per mandatum summi pontificis, quia erat loco depositi corporis eius dicto monasterio commendatum, occulte ipsum de ecclesia transferri fecit capellam sancti Stephani iuxta claustrum’. 15 On the legislation of the transfers: Herrmann-Mascard, 1975, pp. 334-339. 16 We have already seen how, according to the Dominican writers, the Cistercians reacted to the elections of the Dominican popes because they were afraid for their position as the guardians of Thomas’s relics, see Chapter II. For a general overview on the popes: Vian, 2000 and Walter, 2000.

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During the festivities of Avignon, the Pope indirectly addressed the corpse issue when he praised its odour. In the canonization bull, he mentions the fears of the Cistercian monks that they might lose the body, but gives no reason for the sentiment. If anything, John XXII consolidated the tie between Thomas’s corpse, his tomb, and Fossanova by his bull granting indulgences to those who annually visited Thomas’s tomb.17 It is thus hard to find any mark of criticism against the Cistercians and Fossanova or any reference to the impermanence of the entombment in their abbey in the papal sources from the end of the thirteenth or the beginning of the fourteenth century. All told, as expressed in his text, William’s view of the Dominican right to Thomas’s corpse comes across as optimistic rather than convincing. Stronger justifications were needed. Bernard Gui (1261/62-1331)—a French Dominican friar and famous Inquisitor—updated Thomas’s Life in c. 1326.18 Scholars accept that Bernard’s Legend, like the later Dominican textual tradition in general, was mainly based on William’s older text.19 There is little doubt of this, but a comparison of their texts reveals Bernard’s argumentation as far more direct and clear than William’s more elaborate but also more ambiguous prose. Although Bernard’s model is clearly William, there are also differences in the detail. Bernard’s most original idea is related to the very same episode referred to above. Bernard did not simply imply the Dominican possession of the Saint’s relics by describing Thomas’s youth, nor did he wait to see if a pope would openly support the Dominican cause: he took the law in his own hands, emphasizing that the Dominicans had had a clear right to Thomas’s body all along and the evidence was to be seen in black and white: After Saint Thomas was buried, the Abbot and monks were afraid that the Dominicans might carry the Saint’s corpse away against their will by the permission of the Pope, who had entrusted the corpse to them. Brother Raynaldus, the companion of Thomas, had made a public instrument and the Doctor himself had asked his corpse to be transferred to his confraternity in Naples when the time was suitable. Thus, in the secret of the night with a few witnesses the corpse was transferred from the 17 Redemptionem misit. For the Pope’s speeches during the canonization festivities, see the reports of friar Bentius and an anonymous Dominican in Laurent, 1937, pp. 513-518. 18 I follow le Brun-Gouanvic’s convincing argumentation regarding the dating: le BrunGouanvic, 1996, pp. 16, 22, and passim. For a different dating, for example, see Colledge, 1974. 19 Cf. Foster, 1959, p. 12.

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Church to the Chapel of Saint Stephen next to the cloister, that it should be the site of his grave, unknown to others.20

Bernard’s new evidence was ‘an instrument’ (publicum instrumentum) which, according to him, was composed by Raynaldus to preserve Thomas’s own will. William, as we have seen, gives no hint of this instrument, and his knowledge of Thomas’s last days and his will should have been excellent. William knew Raynaldus personally, and he had talked to him and other Neapolitan Dominicans about Thomas’s death while it was still fresh in their memories. William was a South Italian Dominican himself, he had studied at Naples, and had an important career in different offices of the Province.21 If the public instrument claimed by Bernard existed, it is highly improbable that William would not have mentioned it. Bernard Gui was a versatile man. He became a Dominican friar in 1279. He was clearly talented, as he occupied several high positions in the Order of Preachers and also frequently served Pope John XXII in special capacities. Bernard was appointed as Bishop of Limoges in 1324. Even though Bernard as a writer is best known for his authorship of the standard manual for inquisitors, he was also a productive hagiographer. Besides Thomas’s Life, the list includes such works as The Life of Pope Benedict XI and Nomina discipulorum Domini Jhesu Christi, which tells of seventy-two disciples of Jesus who were missionaries in France.22 The basic opinion on Bernard and his work as a writer is quite consistent; he is considered an uninventive writer who faithfully reproduced the text of his sources but did not add ‘flesh’ to the stories.23 Grover A. Zinn states, for example, that ‘[Bernard] was a diligent compiler and accurate researcher, keen to taste the truth from contradictory 20 Legenda XXXXV: ‘Post sepulturam sancti thome cogitantes abbas et monachi et timentes ne forsan in posterum corpus sancti doctoris ipsis invitis auferretur et transferretur a dicto monasterio, procurantibus fratribus sui ordinis per mandatum summi pontificis, presertim quod sub deposito ibidem fuerat commendatum et frater raynaldus socius ejus fecerat inde recipi publicum instrumentum et idem doctor mandaverat corpus suum ad fratres sui ordinis apud neapolim congruo tempore deportari, de nocte secretissime cum paucis arbitris transtulerunt ipsum de ecclesia ad capellam sancti stephani juxta claustrum ut sepulture ejus ignotis ceteris esset locus’. 21 Taurisano, 1924a, pp. 145-155. 22 Bernard’s life and literary production is quite well known, thanks to his anonymous biographer and a vast number of surviving manuscripts of his works. The most extensive study on Bernard is Dubreil-Arcin, 2011: on his biography, see pp. 153-165; on his hagiographical production, especially Speculum sanctorale, see from p. 157 onwards. See also: Delisle, 1879; Thomas, 1920; Tugwell, 1998, pp. 17-18. 23 Tugwell, 1998; Bultot-Verleysen, 2005, pp. 367-398.

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sources. Travelling from monastery to monastery, Bernard assembled evidence, interviewed witnesses and verified his sources at every step’.24 It is also important to note that in the case of Legenda sancti Thome, Bernard is more accurate than William in many details. To mention two, William made the Abbot the main actor in the secret transportation, although all witnesses had spoken about the Prior. Bernard gave the main role back to the Prior. William had also reduced the number of translations—he does not mention the elevation of the 1280s—but Bernard included them all in the Legenda. These details reveal that Bernard had studied independently the material of the canonization hearings, probably the protocols, and not just repeated William’s production.25 More importantly, the difference relating to the translation also highlights the centrality of Thomas’s corpse in every corner of Bernard’s text. Is it possible that Bernard found the above-mentioned instrument lying in some Dominican house when he travelled—for example, as the papal legate in Italy in 1317-1321? Or when he studied the testimonies and other documents collected for the canonization? Or did he simply invent the mysterious instrument himself? Although the third possibility might appear surprising given his fame as a trustworthy historian, this seems the most likely explanation. Bernard himself provides some clues to the mysteries of his Legenda, as he used this work as a basis for his next extensive and important summary of Thomas’s life, which was included in his grandiose legendary of saints, Speculum sanctorale (1312/18 and 1329). The Speculum consists of four weighty parts, including the lives of apostles, martyrs, saintly bishops, confessors, and virgins, the majority of them still unedited, including Thomas’s life.26 A surprising aspect of the Speculum version of Thomas’s life is that in its account of Thomas’s death and the following events there is no sign of the familiar claims about the public instrument. Bernard’s new version of the moment of Thomas’s death is rather typological: he mentions the visions of 24 Zinn, 1995, p. 111. 25 It is worth noting that all three translations of the body are not testified by any one monk, so Bernard had to find information about them from the different documents of the hearings. 26 I have consulted this extensive work at the Bibliothèque municipale of Toulouse. Thomas’s Life is in the fourth part of the Speculum sanctorale, Ms. 481, fols. XXXVIva-XLIIIvb. We know that Bernard finished the fourth and last part of the Speculum, concerning confessors and virgins, among which we find also Thomas, in 1329. On the Speculum sanctorale, see Dubreil-Arcin, 2011 and also 2002; Delisle, 1879, pp. 273-292; Thomas, 1921, pp. 160-162; Tugwell, 1998, pp. 22-23. There also exists a kind of chronological table of Thomas’s life, called Cronica brevis de progressu temporis sancti Thomae (or Epilogus brevis), written by Bernard, an example of which is edited by Prümmer [1911], pp. 256-259.

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transitus, and the miracle enacted on the Sub-Prior, concluding by saying that after the funeral there occurred numerous miracles at Thomas tomb, miracles which were collected during the canonization process. Bernard makes only a brief reference to the monks’ fears of losing the body, when he mentions that the corpse was transferred to the Chapel of Saint Stephen. He does not explain why the corpse was relocated to the front of the high altar, and merely moves on describe the sweetness of the perfume which diffused around the Monastery.27 Thus, despite the importance of the instrument as Thomas’s own will as it appears in the Legenda, it is not mentioned at all in the Speculum sanctorale. In the Speculum, Bernard’s aim was to present a clear, moral story, respecting previous sources, but also trying to correct corrupted interpretations of predecessors. According to Anne-Marie Bultot-Verleysen, in the Speculum sanctorale Bernard was once again the conscientious and faithful historian.28 Why, then, did Bernard leave the mysterious instrument out of the Speculum? If it had existed, I cannot see any reason why Bernard should have omitted it. The public instrument would have been precious testimony of the Dominican Order’s right to own Thomas’s body. Its inclusion in the Speculum sanctorale would have brought it to the attention of the whole of Christendom, which would naturally have increased pressure on Fossanova to renounce the corpse. The omission of the instrument may be an indication that the Speculum sanctorale was aimed at a worldwide audience, including those outside Dominican circles.29 Since, as I would argue, the Speculum was a project which had universal aims, it is more than likely that Bernard paid less regard to more contemporary, political, and even local concerns, such as the wish to have Thomas’s corpse moved to the custody of the Neapolitan Dominicans. In addition to the redundancy of the usage of the instrument in the Speculum, I propose that Thomas’s statement on his deathbed was indeed Bernard’s invention, and also one reason why it was not repeated in his compendium of saints’ lives. The question remains: can we establish a motive for Bernard’s invention, and could it throw some extra light on Thomas’s relic cult? The first thing to note is that Bernard was an obedient friar, no matter how faithful his history writing was. There are some 27 Bibliothèque municipal, Ms. 481, fols. XLIIvb-XLIIIra. 28 Bultot-Verleysen, 2005, p. 368. 29 Contrary to what many researchers have assumed, the Speculum was not a project with merely local aims, but it was aimed at a Europe-wide readership. Cf. Bultot-Verleysen, 2005, p. 369. On Bernard’s audience, see Dubreil-Arcin, 2011.

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indications from Bernard’s works that he conveniently ‘forgot’ to mention some sources when it suited his purposes.30 If he had received an order from his superior to reinforce the Dominican case for ownership of Thomas’s body, he probably did so even at the expense of abandoning his normal rigorous handling of the evidence. Whether he had instructions from above or not, Bernard was no doubt interested in Thomas’s cult and corpse himself. He may have obeyed his own calling to give a more secure foundation to the Dominican claim to Thomas’s remains. One probable sign of Bernard’s personal interest is in a manuscript now located at the Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies in Toronto. The manuscript is a copy of Bernard Gui’s history of the popes and emperors, a copy that Bernard himself ordered and donated to Pope John XXII in the late 1320s. In the manuscript—the entry concerning the year 1323—the twelfth year of the pontificate of John XXII, begins with a mention of Thomas’s canonization in August. In addition to the regular text in two columns, there is an addition in the margin of the folio that is probably in Bernard’s own hand: de canonizatione sancti Thome de Aquino. There follows a report of a declaration of an edict, namely the papal bull Cum inter nonnullos, in November. The bull was directed against a viewpoint regarded by the Pope and Bernard Gui, among others, as heretical. The heretical idea was that Christ and his apostles did not possess anything either individually or in common.31 According to Patrick Nold, Bernard had treated the error in several writings, for example in Liber sententiarum (1320). Nold considers the question of renunciation of individual and common property as the central problem within the Beguine doctrine for Bernard, as the Inquisitor has listed the matter in the first position in his section devoted to the subject in The Inquisitor’s Manual.32 The Toronto manuscript indicates that Thomas was especially important to Bernard, as he emphasized by his extra marking in the marginalia that Thomas was present in the copy of his text. As the manuscript was Bernard’s gift to the Pope, Bernard may also have thought that Thomas’s canonization was something that John XXII wanted to be remembered in a special way. The linking of Thomas’s canonization and the summary of the bull Cum inter nonnullos as two facets of the twelfth year of the John XXII’s papacy is interesting.

30 Biller, 2003, pp. 137-140. 31 PIMS, Bergendal MS 1: ‘Christus et eius apostoli nihil habuerunt in speciali nec etiam in comune hereticum sit censendum’. 32 Nold, 2009, pp. 153-154.

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Thomas’s importance for Bernard’s worldview as an inquisitor, possibly even his function as a model for Bernard, is strongly hinted at in a reference in connection to Summa contra Gentiles in the Legend, even more so if the latter is compared to the corresponding passage in the Ystoria. In the Legenda, Bernard briefly praises Thomas’s work against heretics in the following way: ‘This is not the place to describe at length the errors which the razor edge of Thomas’s mind has cut off at their root; enough to say that the errors and follies of unbelievers have never, to this day, met with so terrible an adversary as the author of the Summa contra Gentiles’.33 In the Ystoria, William simply refrains from commenting on Summa contra Gentiles as a work which contains new arguments, and which shows both Thomas’s natural intelligence and wisdom obtained through prayers and meditation. The impact of Thomas’s writings on Bernard’s texts seems largely to have escaped scholarly attention, and it is not my intention to explore it further here.34 However, Bernard’s activity suggests that he was deeply involved in propagating Thomas’s cult and tried to use it for his own and the Order’s more ambitious plans. The Summa contra Gentiles is one of Thomas’s major works, which was initially composed to explain the errors of the infidels against the Catholic Church. The reference in the Legenda may well be a clue that Bernard saw both Thomas and himself as on the same level, both terrible adversaries to heresy. If so, Bernard must have felt a very personal relationship to Thomas the Saint. Following the example of Bernard Gui, the mysterious instrument mentioned in the Legenda lived on in some hagiographical works, the most successful of which were the lections for Thomas’s feast day. As a part of these lections, knowledge of the instrument diffused widely during the fourteenth century—the theme of the next section. Nevertheless, the Italian Dominican hagiographers were not consistent in their use of the document. In the 1330s Petrus Calo, a friar from Chioggia near Venice, wrote a Legendarium, a collection of saints’ lives similar to Bernard’s Speculum. However, Petrus returned to a narrative similar to that of William, in that he did not mention the instrument.35 Around 1370, another Venetian, Petrus de Natalibus, stated that it was Thomas’s own will to be buried in Naples, but made no reference to any instrument.36 The first legend on 33 Legenda XIII. The translation is from Foster, 1959, p. 35. 34 For some consideration of Thomas’s doctrine in inquisitors’ texts: Ames, 2009, pp. 201-203. 35 Petrus Calo, Vita 31. On Petrus and his original features to Thomas’s life, see Jansen, 1924, p. 470. For short biographical notes and list of works, see Kaeppeli, 1980, pp. 220-221. 36 Catalogus sanctorum, fol. 69v.

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Thomas written in Italian is a compilation of both William’s and Bernard’s texts. With regard to our problem, it follows Bernard’s model more closely, presenting the instrument as testimony that Thomas’s body belonged to the Dominicans.37 A Milan humanist, Bonino Mombritius, was the first editor of Thomas’s life at the end of the fifteenth century; he edited Bernard Gui’s Legenda, omitting, however, some chapters. The edition includes Bernard’s text on the instrument.38 Taken as a whole, at first glance these hagiographical works on Thomas give little clue as to which version of the evidence that Thomas belonged to the Order was more successful in the Late Middle Ages. It is important to note that the lections, and along with them the tale of the instrument, reached a far wider audience than the hagiographies ever would. The success of the tale regarding the instrument can be grasped by reading modern historiography and research in connection to Thomas’s death at Fossanova. The existence of the document is often taken as a fact. This is the case, for example, with the recent study by Giovanni Maria de Rossi. He neither questions the reality of the instrument, nor notes the different Dominican traditions around it. According to De Rossi, the valuable instrument was known only to a few, possibly only the Abbot, but he nevertheless considers it such a threat that it was the primary reason for the monks to hide Thomas’s corpse secretly.39 The logic is interesting: if nobody knew of the document except the Abbot, why hide the corpse? Ultimately, having considered all the different tales, the best we can say is that whether the instrument was real or invented, it became a powerful weapon in the quarrel over Thomas’s body immediately after his canonization. What of the remains themselves: during the battle over the body, how did the Dominican writers perceive it, given that they wrote about it from some physical distance, neither seeing nor experiencing it constantly? In fact, the Dominican lives emphasize the redolence as well as the physical outlook and incorruptibility of Thomas corpse. Although they mainly follow the information given in the canonization hearings, there is nevertheless a slight difference if they are compared to the Cistercian testimonies. The latter give more weight to the physical appearance of the corpse, whereas the Dominican writers describe the odour more frequently. In the Ystoria, 37 Archivio dei Domenicani, Ms. Cas. 3. 38 Sanctuarium seu vitae Sanctorum; On Mombritius (Mombrizio) and other humanist writers who rewrote Thomas’s Life, see Frazier, 2005: Janssens, 1924, p. 212. 39 De Rossi, 2013.

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William of Tocco admires the corpse, the perfume it emitted, indeed ‘it seemed that they were not opening a tomb where human remains lay, but an armoire of scents full of aromatics’. 40 This difference makes sense, as the perfume was easier to describe repeatedly in liturgical performance when the relic itself was absent, as we will see in the next section. Another interesting emphasis in the Dominican texts, and especially in William’s, is on Thomas’s hand-relic. According to William, the hand was entire except for the thumb, which had been given to satisfy someone’s devotion; it was entirely dried and had not lost its wheaten colour. Bernard is more detailed, and his account suggests that he had actually seen the hand: ‘the skin, the flesh, the bones, and the nails were dried up, the colour of wheat was not changed’. 41 William concludes that it was not only the hand which manifested the miracle of the odour, but also all the other relics of the Saint. 42 It seems natural that both writers emphasized the hand, the most significant body part relic of Thomas that the Order had its possession—at the Convent of Salerno. William in particular appears to have comforted the friars with what they had as he articulates the significance of this relic for the Dominicans through Thomas’s writing activity. According to William, the hand and finger of intelligence were material and symbolical signs of Thomas’s intellectual heritage. The depiction of the hand was designed to offer an emblem of the Doctor for the friars’ veneration and meditation as well as to intensify Thomas’s relic cult. Since the narration of the event was also added to the Historia of the famous Dominican reformer—Antoninus of Florence—and as he actually animated the description with his own eye-witness account of how he venerated and perceived the hand-relic in Salerno in the 1420s, we can assume that the relic remained as an important testimony of Thomas’s presence among the South Italian Dominicans for the following centuries, and even to the present day. To summarize, the Dominicans used Thomas’s life extensively and in a comprehensive way to justify their right to the Saint’s body. Perhaps the stress of the canonization affected William, and caused him to be less than forceful in making claims on the corpse, whereas not long afterwards Bernard felt free to state definitively that the corpse belonged to the Neapolitan 40 Ystoria LXVI: ‘non uideretur patuisse defuncti humani corporis sepultura sed multorum aromatum apotheca’. 41 Legenda 121: ‘[...] pelle, carne, ossibus et unguibus licet ex siccata a suo tamen colore quasi triticeo non mutata’. 42 Ystoria LXX.

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Illustration 12  Thomas’s altar at the Dominican Church of Salerno

Dominicans by introducing the written instrument as evidence. If we can judge by the surviving manuscripts, both William’s and Bernard’s legends of Thomas seem to have diffused in equal measure. 43 If this is the case, both justifications for the Order’s ownership of Thomas’s corpse would have been equally familiar to the friars. However, the use of these legends proper probably remained largely within the Order. It was the liturgy and other devotional practices of Thomas’s feast day which most affected the understanding of Thomas’s body outside the Order. Thomas’s memory in the feast day practices is my topic in the next section.

Memorial practices of the body on Thomas’s Feast Day Thomas’s canonization bull is dated on 18 July 1323. The information it contained was spread throughout Christendom by oral and written messages. In the bull, the Pope ordered all who received the letter to celebrate Thomas’s feast day annually and universally, and with great solemnity, 43 Kaeppeli, 1970, pp. 205-226 and 1975, pp. 165-167; le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, pp. 61-67.

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on 7 March. 44 According to the Pope, the celebrations were profitable for everybody, because Thomas would protect those faithful to him. The Dominicans, naturally, reacted to the Pope’s call: as mentioned above, the General Chapter gave its first orders regarding Thomas’s new position and feast day in the first meeting after the canonization in 1324. The feast was then fully accepted in the Chapter in 1326. 45 In practice, this meant that Thomas had to be respected as the second most important saint of the Dominicans, following Father Dominic. 46 Thomas’s feast day should have been celebrated in every single convent in Europe, and the festivities had to be adopted into the most solemn liturgy everywhere. 47 The body of Thomas, both living and dead, receives such attention in the Divine Office of the Day that it is arguable that it is precisely its absence which led the Dominican Order to give it such a central position in liturgical life. As the liturgy had a great capacity to touch and affect the sensorial experience, the perception of Thomas’s presence, and even of a very real presence of the body, was intense within a church during the services. 48 Because Dominican churches were open also to the laity, even if the main focus was the attending friars, I will also refer to the lay experience of Thomas’s presence through the liturgical practices. Besides the liturgy in the Church, Thomas’s feast day was also celebrated with different practices in the town streets or piazzas. After taking a brief look at the history of the liturgical memory of Thomas, I will analyse the texts composed for the services of the matins, as this was the most important service of the day in medieval monastic and mendicant religious communities. 49 However, besides the liturgy, other situations in which 44 The papal bull seems to have diffused in certain, but presumably narrow, circles: Mandonnet, 1924, pp. 40-41. We know, for example, that the Pope sent the letter to the Queen of France on 30 July. There are numerous copies of the bull in the Dominican manuscripts and additions of Thomas’s feast day in the calendars of religious orders and short descriptions of the canonization in city chronicles. 45 Planzer, 1931, p. 346. According to the Dominican regulation, the feast needed approval from three consecutive General Chapters to be accepted as part of the annual liturgy of the Order: Boyle, 1958. 46 As regards the liturgy, Thomas’s constant memory as a part of litanies brought him closer to the Dominican friars and made his presence more active among the community daily. 47 Signs of the early diffusion of Thomas’s feast outside the cultic centre in Italy are the Dominican breviaries BAV, Ottob. lat. 137, which were presumably used in Bohemia, and National Library of Finland, C.IV.10, presumably used in London at the beginning of the fourteenth century. For more about the provenance of the manuscript in Helsinki: Keskiaho, 2008, p. 233. See Mews, 2009, for a consideration of a relatively late diffusion of Thomas’s feast in Germany. 48 Leclercq, 1982, pp. 75-76; Palazzo, 2010a, pp. 25-56. 49 Reames, 2005, p. 220.

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Thomas’s remains were the focus of attention in feast day festivities will also be examined. When Thomas was elevated to second place in the daily liturgy among the saints of the Order, he surpassed Peter Martyr, the successful Dominican saint who had been canonized in the mid-thirteenth century.50 Despite Thomas’s significance among the saints of the Order, his liturgy has not attracted much attention among medievalists and several details of it remain obscure.51 We know that the first official mass for Saint Thomas was celebrated on 18 July 1323 in the solemn atmosphere of the Church of Saint Mary of Avignon.52 The mass was performed according to the Common for the Confessors as was customary before the liturgy proper was composed. The canonization festivities, which lasted several days, were recorded vividly by two Dominican friars—one of them an Italian friar known by the name Bentius, and another anonymous friar.53 Bentius, as an eye-witness, offers us a good picture of the content of the mass: The f irst collation was recited by the Pope: Magnus es tu et faciens mirabilia,54 invoked Spiritus Sanctus. Then Veni creator spiritus was chanted. The Pope sat down and intoned Redde quod debes,55 declaring that if God glorified him in heaven, the Church would glorify him on earth. With the authority of Saint Peter and Saint Paul the Pope publicly added the aforesaid glorious Doctor to the catalogue of the saints. Then the Te deum laudamus was chanted in a loud voice. Finishing the chant, the Pope celebrated a mass of the confessor, giving an entrance, In medio ecclesie, a prayer, Deus qui ecclesiam tuam beati Thome, an epistle, Optavi, a response, Os iusti, the most beautiful new and long alleluja and the Gospel Vos estis sal terre, sicut de beato Dominico. The Church was full of big candles and the joy of the long desired day was complete.56

The prayers of the Pope on the day of Thomas’s canonization had great importance for Thomas’s future office and the memory of him. The role of 50 On the cult and canonization of Saint Peter, see Prudlo, 2008. 51 For an interesting article about Thomas’s feast in Renaissance Rome, see O’Malley, 1981. The theme has recently gained more attention: Mews, 2009; Räsänen, 2012. 52 There are several mentions, as we have already seen, of the masses for Thomas chanted at Fossanova before Thomas’s canonization. 53 The reports are edited by Laurent, 1937, pp. 513-518. 54 ‘For thou art great and dost wonderful things: thou art God alone’, Ps. 85:10. 55 ‘Pay what thou owest’, Matth. 18:28. 56 Laurent, 1937, p. 516.

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the prayers also explains why Bentius copied them faithfully in his letter and the anonymous Dominican did not: after the description of the Mass, Bentius asked that this office would be followed by the recipients until the Dominican Order could order something else.57 Bentius wrote his letter to Aymeric of Piacenza, a former Master of the Order of Preachers (1304-1311), and Benvenuto dei Borghesini, the Prior Provincial of Lombardy, as well as to the community of the Dominican Convent of Bologna. Innocenzo Taurisano seems to have concluded that Bentius would have sent an office for Thomas’s feast day to the Bolognese friars together with the letter. This interpretation is probably incorrect. It is more likely that Bentius wanted Thomas to be celebrated according to the Common for the Confessors with the additional sermons and prayers from the Pope’s mass to give some special character to the office. The General Chapter of the Dominican Order ordered the composition of a proper feast for Thomas in 1324.58 In the Acts of the General Chapter, there is no mention of a confirmation of the proper liturgy, which may indicate that the Chapter left the matter to the Master of the Order.59 However, the liturgy was certainly composed and confirmed before 1328, when the Acts gives instructions for the festivities of Thomas’s octava.60 The octava was celebrated a week after Thomas’s proper feast day. Among the earliest examples of the office proper, I include texts from manuscripts in Italy, such as Barberinus latinus 400 (hereafter Barb. lat.), probably originally from Rieti, but now lodged at the Vatican Library, and codex VI.F.6, originally from San Domenico Maggiore of Naples, and now in the Biblioteca Nazionale di Napoli.61 Both are breviaries. In different European libraries, I have mapped all kinds of Dominican liturgical manuscripts: the missals, graduals, antiphonaries, and hymnaries from the fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries including chants and texts to Thomas’s feast day.62 As regards the South Italian material—or Italian in general—the situation is more complicated than it often is elsewhere: 57 Laurent, 1937, p. 518. 58 Acta capitulorum generalium, p. 151. 59 Acta capitulorum generalium, p. 164. Sometimes the lections for the feast were also presented in the confirmatory chapter, but this did not happen in Thomas’s case. 60 Acta capitulorum generalium, p. 177. The office is generally considered to have been composed by a Dominican, William Adam, although the composer’s identity is far from certain due to a lack of documents. Cf. Creytens, 1960, p. 267. See also: Kaeppeli, 1975, p. 81-82; Bonniwell, 1945, p. 234; Olmot, 1921, pp. 277-284. 61 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fols. 429vb-436rb; BNN, codex VI.F.6, fols. 85va-90vb. On the provenience of the Vatican manuscript, see Salmon, 1968; of Naples: Kaeppeli, 1966. 62 There is a beautiful and early example of lections in the manuscript of the Bibliothèque Mazarine ms. 356, fols. 418va-423rb. Interesting collections are, for example, at the Vatican

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the catalogued material is limited, and thus selection of the reference manuscripts more challenging. Moreover, the provenance and dating of manuscripts is rarely as clear as in the case of the two breviaries mentioned above, the reason why I have chosen them in preference to many others. In this section, then, I use the manuscript Barb. lat. 400 as my first level reference text for the chants for Thomas’s feast day in a Dominican church (the codex VI.F.6 will be studied in the last section regarding Naples).63 In the manuscript in question, Thomas’s feast is added both in the calendar and at the end of the manuscript, originally empty folios. Given the handwriting and other gatherings in the codex, Thomas’s feast can be dated to the period immediately after its final approval in 1326. The presence of the office for the Corpus Christi feast in the original part of the manuscript gives us good grounds to date the original part of the manuscript between the years 1323-1326, as the office for Corpus Christi was approved for the Dominican liturgy in 1323, and the addition for Thomas’s feast was probably made almost immediately given its stylistic similarity to the original part of the codex. Another early reference text for Thomas’s feast day chants to which I have compared the breviary is the antiphonary Vat. lat. 10771 from Saint Catharine of Dissenhofen. Thomas’s feast in this manuscript is an additional own gathering and it has been ordered together with the gathering of the Office for Corpus Christi—or at least, they are stylistically identical—but the Corpus Christi is added to a different manuscript.64 As regards the lections of the matins, my reference text is from a lectionary, Vaticanus latinus 10153 (hereafter Vat. lat.), originally from the Dominican Convent of Orvieto. The medieval lections are not edited or included in the collections of liturgical or hagiographical medieval texts. For this reason, a short overview of their content is given below, and an unabridged Latin transcription of the lections from manuscript Vat. lat. 10153 is also provided in Appendix. It is worth emphasizing that the Dominican liturgical books in Italy from the beginning of the fourteenth to the end of the fifteenth century, both lectionaries and breviaries, include very similar lections, with only a very small variation in the vocabulary. As a part of the matins, I give special attention to the lections, as they are quite long and give abundant information about the saint. Despite Library (from Saint Catherine of Dissenhofen, BAV, Vat. lat. 10771, 10772, 10773, 10774, 10775), at the Bibliothèque municipal of Colmar, and at the Stadtbibliothek Nürnberg. 63 As regards the response and versicles of the Office in the medieval breviaries, they vary a little, but this is something that needs further study. 64 The Corpus Christi feast is in BAV, Vat. lat. 10775.

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this, and their role in disseminating Dominican propaganda through the liturgy, scholars have not paid much attention to them.65 At the beginning of the twentieth century, Franz Pelster noted that the lections derived from the Legenda of Bernard Gui, something that is now indisputable.66 As mentioned earlier, it is interesting that Thomas’s memory as a part of the Dominican liturgy was based on the Legenda rather than William’s Ystoria. The lections are particularly useful as evidence of the ways in which the presence of Thomas’s body was created and how this image was perceived in the Dominican church on his feast day, 7 March. As Thomas’s feast was celebrated in the highest category of the saints in the Dominican Order, the annual festivities began already on the eve of the dies natalis. The friars of the Dominican communities should have celebrated Thomas similarly in every convent and their churches, but the participation of the laity will have varied according to the status Thomas had gained among them. As we learned in the previous chapter, Thomas became the Patron Saint of Priverno, where a procession with Thomas’s head-relic took place in the streets on the eve of the feast of dies natalis, as was customary. In the canonization celebrations at Avignon, King Robert of Naples declared that Thomas’s feast day become a public holiday and the order was presumably followed throughout the Kingdom. Thomas’s feast day was also elevated to become an important saints’ day in Padua (1324) and Florence (1325), where it was a common holiday.67 Even on the European periphery, Thomas’s feast day became a public holiday, as in the medieval diocese of Turku in Finland.68 In the above-mentioned Italian city-states, as Thomas’s feast day was confirmed as a public holiday and thus belonged to the highest category of feasts, it would have been celebrated with different civic rituals, games, markets, banquets, processions, and so on. The representatives of the communities as well as the general laity are also likely to have participated in the liturgical services at the Dominican 65 The importance of the matins was a medieval norm: Reames, 2005, p. 220; Heffernan, 2005, pp. 79-80. In general, on the Divine Office and its history, and especially on the lections for the Office, see Salmon, 1959, pp. 135-191. 66 Pelster could not date the lections. I would add that, in all probability, they were an abbreviation of the long legend: Pelster, 1923, pp. 385-400. 67 Regarding Padua, see Kristeller, 1967, pp. 74-75; Florence: Webb, 1996, p. 110. 68 In some surviving calendars from parish churches of the diocese there is an addition ‘festum terre’ in Thomas’s feast day. See the calendars in National Library, fol. m. VII.14 and C IV.21. The additions are from the turn of the fifteenth and the sixteenth century. I have found that only Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Birgitta of Sweden, and Saint Dionysius have gained the festum terre status for their feast days. See also Malin, 1925. Thomas’s feast was a holiday also in the Roman curia: Salonen, 2012, p. 325.

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churches.69 In Southern and Central Italian towns, especially in those where the Dominican community was already well-established by the time of Thomas’s canonization, the friars certainly would have encouraged the laypeople to participate in different events of the feast day. Early sermon collections containing sermons for Thomas are surviving from the important Dominican convents, such as Naples, Orvieto, Siena, and Florence, evidence that Thomas’s sainthood was familiar for people who attended the sermons.70 Through the celebrations, like sermons presented in the piazzas, and the services of the liturgical hours at the church, the commune or the friars promoted their viewpoints on Thomas. The question of lay participation in saints’ feast days has proved troublesome for scholars. Frequently, only the source material about patron saints contains enough detail for researchers to argue for substantial participation in all parts of the feast day by the laity. However, the indulgences granted by Pope Clemens VI in the year 1344 offer a profitable avenue of inquiry into lay participation in Thomas’s feast day. In that year, the Pope received a petition from the Master of the Dominican Order for indulgences to all good Christians who would visit any Dominican church on Thomas’s feast day or its octava. The Pope granted indulgences of one year and forty days.71 The petition expresses, to my mind, the Dominican wish to attract more pilgrims to their churches and to create and control Thomas’s memory among the laity. For the purposes of the pilgrimage, the Dominicans necessarily tried to create Thomas’s presence at the Dominican churches in all sensory and perhaps tangible forms, understandable to the laity so that pilgrims would arrive in numbers. Besides the King, the Pope, and the Dominicans, I regard the role of confraternities as central in promoting Thomas’s feast day and understanding his presence among the laity during his festivities. One of the earliest marks of Thomas’s confraternity comes from Aquila. According to Vincenzo de Bartholomaeis, Compagnia de’Disciplinanti di San Tommaso 69 On the festivities of the patron and other important saints in the Italian city-states, see Webb, 1996. 70 Among the first Dominican preachers who added sermons to Thomas’s feast day in their collections, sermones de sanctis, are Iohannes de san Gimignano, Iacopo Scalza de Urbeveteri, Fridericus Franconus de Neapoli, and Iohannes de Neapoli. Surviving manuscripts are BAV, Barb. lat. 476; BNCF, Conv. sopp. J.1.41 and G.1.516; BSB, Clm 2981. See Pellegrini, 1999; Dondaine, 1939, pp. 128-183. Some considerations on the sermons of Iohannes de san Gimignano are presented in the following section. 71 This was the first time that the Dominicans received privileges for Thomas’s feast. On the petition and the bull, see Laurent, 1935.

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d’Aquino was founded in June 1306. The statutes are from 1338 and they instruct the members to participate in celebration preparations and the liturgical festivities on certain feast days in the local Dominican church; in primary position among these feasts were Saint Dominic, Saint Peter Martyr, and Saint Thomas Aquinas.72 De Bartholomaeis has also found a play for Thomas’s feast day which was performed by the Compagnia de’Disciplinanti di San Tommaso d’Aquino of Aquila. The play is rather long, and the performance is designed to last for several days. It begins with a discussion between Saint Dominic, Virgin Mary, Christ, and an angel. The Angel’s task is to go to the hermit and tell him how he should announce Thomas’s future birth to his mother. To judge from the surviving text, the spectacle concentrated on Thomas’s pre-existence, his birth, and childhood, presumably on the things which interested the lay audience most and resonated with their own lives. True to form, the play ends with the spectacular healings and exclamations of divine power at Thomas’s tomb.73 Unfortunately, Thomas’s confraternities have not received much attention from scholars, apart from that of Aquila and Perugia where the Compania di San Tommaso d’Aquino was founded in the mid-fifteenth century.74 These lay associations existed, however, and they should be seen as performing a central role in mediating the Dominican message about Thomas’s sanctity and his relics to the laity. What, then, happened in a Dominican church on Thomas’s feast day, and how was Thomas’s presence realized there through the liturgical readings, chants, and other rites? At dusk on the eve of the feast day, the congregation of the Dominican house gathered under candlelight for the solemn vespers at the choir of the church. According to the medieval liturgical manuscripts, at the choir the commemoration began with the antiphone: ‘Blessed Thomas, the Doctor of the church, was the light of the world, the splendour of Italy […]’.75 The metaphorical illumination seems to have been the leading theme 72 De Bartholomaeis, 1952, pp. 299-300. See also Paone, 2010, pp. 93-96. 73 De Bartholomaeis, 1924, pp. 77-113: Comenza la legenda de sancto tomascio. 74 Marinelli, 1960. For example, Gilles G. Meersseman has broadly studed the early Dominican confraternities up to the year 1323: Meersseman, 1977, Pt. III. On the outlines of the study, see the Introduction. 75 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 429vb. Also the reconstruction of the liturgical feast for S. Thomae de Aquino, la Trobe University, Medieval Music Database; Dreves, 1889, pp. 230-233. Douais has edited the texts of the chants from the manuscript of Bibliothèque municipal, ms. 610. This feast is called officium extravagans and it seemingly derives from the period when Berengarius de Saltellis was a Prior of the Province of Aragon, 1333-1342. Instead of the beginning Felix Thomas, Doctor Ecclesie, it begins Thomas fons sapientie and seems to be completely different from the so called normal office: Douais, 1903, pp. 228-238. Chants for Thomas’s dies natalis and

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of the vesper rite, enhanced by the actual flickering lights of the candles. The hymn included the commonly used metaphors related to Thomas and medieval saints in general. Among the doctors of the Church Thomas was a new sun, a font of light and knowledge. Like the sun, Thomas shone with heavenly light, helping man to understand better the divine Scriptures and the rules of truth. Thomas’s three main achievements, the same which were emphasized in the lead-up to the canonization, are clarified lyrically in the following way: ‘The effulgent rays of his wisdom, the light of his spotless life, and the splendour of his miracles, have filled the universe with joy’.76 These words summarize Thomas’s spectacular intellectual and enlightening abilities, both in life and in death. The first vesper service ended with the prayer, Deus qui ecclesiam tuam, which we have encountered already in Bentius’s description of the canonization festivities. It can be seen from this that the vesper depiction of Thomas is a summary of the typical eulogies on him, from his hagiographies, panegyrics, and hymns; it is the praise of Thomas’s heavenly wisdom. As noted, the candlelight and the verses together probably had a powerful effect on the imagination of those attending the vesper, both friars and laity. The procession preceded the vesper and it is possible that in many cases the friars carried some concrete mark of Thomas’s presence in it, perhaps an image of the Saint, an object like a book connected to him or in some cases, as in Salerno, a body part relic.77 This material form was then displayed on the high altar at the beginning or during the vesper rite. If there was a material representation of Thomas at the high altar the words of the liturgy became even more meaningful, with Thomas’s material presence revealed in the light of the candles. Even without the object, the words were presumably powerful enough to create a meditative picture of Thomas’s presence during the service.78 Especially for the friars, the metaphor of the enlightening rays spoke of Thomas’s wisdom and his works, from which the friars hoped to seek guidance for their lives.79 Thomas brought the light into the night in a very real way as well. The words of the vesper may also have translation feasts can be heard from the CD Felix Thomas, lumen mundi by Vox Silentii, recorded and published in Finland in 2016. For more information on the record, see www.ossagloriosa.org 76 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 420ra. 77 Cf. Belting, 1996, p. 13. On representing Thomas in art: Kaftal, 1965, 1978 and 1986. 78 On the monk’s capacity to use his imagination, see Leclercq, 1982, pp. 75-76; Carruthers, 2000, pp. 72-77. 79 A similar message at the beginning of the sermon for Thomas’s feast, written by Iohannes de san Gimignano, BNCF, Conv. sopp. J.1.41, fol. 356r. Rays of light are an also important element in Thomas’s iconography.

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had a symbolical meaning related to the passing of the seasons, particularly to the lay audience, as the daylight lengthened in spring. However, in the general darkness of the night of March, the light, which was real as well as envisioned through the chant, created a suggestive atmosphere for the beginning of the feast day. Some hours later the matins began in the choir of the Dominican church with an invitation to celebrate Thomas. The matins office was divided into the inventory and the first, second, and third nocturns. Every nocturn began with antiphones which referred to the message of the forthcoming three lections. Every lection ended in a respond and a verse. For example, the first nocturn for Thomas’s feast as a whole concentrated on Thomas’s birth, his entry into the Order, his capture and release by his family, and finally on Thomas’s ability in the meditative prayer. In practice the system can be crystalized so that the antiphons anticipated the core of the message of the lections, the lections themselves giving a wider view of the life of the Saint, and the respond and verse repeating the most essential content of the reading. For example, if we look at Thomas’s first nocturn and its first lection, it is anticipated by the antiphon, which refers to a prophesy of Thomas’s forthcoming birth.80 Then it was the turn of a reader to read aloud the lection from a lectern, situated in the centre of the choir.81 The first lection tells of Thomas’s origin and the prophesy of his forthcoming birth to his mother. As they did after every lection, the choir sang a response and the cantor a verse. The respond and verse reinforce the prophecy announcing the coming glory to be achieved by Thomas.82 The other two lections of the first nocturn discuss Thomas’s birth, his entrance into the Order of Preachers, and the reactions of Thomas’s family, just as we have seen that William of Tocco did in the previous section. His family, for example, tried to make Thomas change his mind and to renounce the Order by sending a girl to his room to seduce him. According to the text, Thomas immediately chased the girl out and received a reward from God: two angels announced to him that he had proved himself worthy of the belt of chastity and that his chastity would be safe forever, as he had prayed.83 The respond and verse emphasize the main points of the lection: Thomas’s resistance to seduction and the miraculous gift that he received from God.84 80 81 82 83 84

BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 430va; Dreves, 1889, p. 231. Heffernan, 2005, p. 82. See Thomas’s lections in the Appendix. BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fols. 430va-431ra. Cf. also Dreves, 1889, p. 231. On Thomas’s chastity belt, see Karras, 2008, pp. 62-63. BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 431ra-va; Dreves, 1889, p. 231.

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Considering the lyrics and the meditative function of the respond, Thomas’s role as a primary example of chastity for the Dominican friars becomes evident here. In the third lection Thomas’s mother realized the firmness of Thomas’s will, and she decided to return her son to the Dominicans. The largest part of this lection, however, is given over to a more profound description of Thomas’s own devotion and fervent contemplation. The story moves from Thomas’s studies to his contemplation, which, according to the following lections, gradually becomes of central importance in his life. This lection includes the first description of how Thomas’s body was lifted off the ground while he was contemplating. The response and versicle praise the levitation, that is, the profound spiritual state of mind which could be reached through the practice of meditation and spiritual growth.85 Thus, all the parts of the first nocturn, in other words, the content of the antiphons, lections, responds, and versicles, tell of Thomas’s rite of transition from worldly life, having passed through the studies in theology, and his arrival at the meditative state in which he was already very close to God, literally lifted above the secular world. Accordingly, in the description of the rite of transition, the body was actually an indispensable instrument. The idea of the depiction of Thomas’s bodily activity was to show the way in which Thomas in flesh, and not only in spirit—which was of course equally important—became a Dominican friar and a man of God.86 The depiction was a display about the steps of Thomas’s spiritual growth. During the first nocturn the audience was supposed to direct their thoughts to Thomas’s living body and bodily actions in the physical world and meditate on them. During the second nocturn the audience was guided through Thomas’s life, dealing exclusively with his divine wisdom, to the time of his death. Structurally the second nocturn is similar to the first, as it is also to the third. Through a relatively detailed argumentation, lections four and five state that Thomas’s knowledge was not human, but a gift from God. The fifth lection in particular describes the peak of mysticism and contemplation that Thomas reached: it praises Thomas as one who has achieved heavenly citizenship while still living in flesh. As evidence of the state he had attained, the lection describes Thomas’s levitation and a crucifix that 85 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 431va; Dreves, 1889, p. 231. 86 André Vauchez has studied legends of saints with growing emphasis on their belonging to the spiritual family, but he has not given any attention to the description of physical body: Vauchez, 1977a.

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spoke to Thomas and praised his interpretations of Sacred Scripture.87 The cantor repeated the point, chanting the verse: ‘It is discerned that he was lifted up from the earth when the Crucifix spoke to him’.88 The sixth lection returns to a stricter chronological presentation, describing Thomas’s last days, his death, and the first signs of his sanctity. The lection ends with a comparison between the moment of Thomas’s death (dies natalis), that is, his rebirth into heavenly life, and Jesus’s birth: there was a star which shone like a comet for three days above Fossanova. The same idea is repeated in the response, and to conclude the second nocturn the cantor recited: ‘Oh how lofty is he whom the heavens preach; oh how bright is he whom the stars indicate!’89 As we can see in the second nocturn, Thomas’s body was important in two different ways; the living body was an instrument with which to reach God and the dead body was a sign of this achievement. Interestingly, Thomas’s state of soul is made clear through bodily acts, in particular the levitation the second time in the lections. In much shorter lections than the proper lives, the repetition of the levitation emphasizes in a remarkable way this state of Thomas’s spirituality. The levitation in front of the Crucifix offers a powerful meditative image, similar in many ways to a description of Saint Francis as he receives stigmas from a Seraph. Like the image of the stigmata in the Franciscan context, Thomas’s levitation or prayer in front of crucifix became a popular subject in Dominican art.90 The theme is depicted, for example, in the Chapel of the Corporeal in Orvieto Cathedral. This location was chosen because of Thomas’s participation in the creation of the new Corpus Christi Office in the town. The theme offered a meditative image of Thomas’s heavenly wisdom for the friars and probably resonated with the laity as well.91 The use of sensorial effects increases towards the end of the matins. This dramaturgy was most probably a result of diligent planning. The beginning of the third and last nocturn and its antiphons immediately emphasize Thomas’s instant transition to the Kingdom of Heaven. The 87 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fols. 431vb-432vb. 88 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 423vb: ‘Elevatus a terra cernitur, crucifixus ei alloquitur’. Cf. Dreves, 1889, p. 231. 89 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 433rb: ‘Quam excelsus quem celi praedicant, quam preclarus quem stellae indicant’. Cf. Dreves, 1889, p. 231. 90 On Thomas’s iconography, see Kaftal’s series on iconography of the saints in Italian Art, which, however, is far from complete concerning Thomas. 91 Saint Dominic was an ideal example of a prayer in front of the crucifix. On texts, images and devotion in Dominican art, see Cannon, 2013, pp. 53-56.

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seventh lection then begins with an announcement of Thomas’s death in Fossanova, before moving on to the funeral and a vision received by a devout Dominican—known already from other sources, such as Paulus de Aquila: see Chapter I. The last sentence of the lection, as well as the response and verse, return explicitly to the theme of the opening antiphons, namely to Thomas’s death and his transportation to heaven.92 The eighth lection is particularly important regarding the question of the perception of Thomas’s body through the liturgy of the matins. The lection describes the situation in which the monks of Fossanova feared to lose Thomas’s body, and carried out the secret transportation to hide and protect the corpse: in other words, to keep the corpse at Fossanova. The versicle ‘Three times the lament of the friars rises, our Doctor is taken away from us’93 conducts us to lection eight, which describes a story already familiar to us in the following way: After Saint Thomas was buried, the monks were afraid that the Dominicans might carry the saint’s corpse away against their will. The Holy Doctor [Thomas] had in fact asked for his body to be sent within a decent time to the friars of his own Order in Naples. And because he had been buried, the order was given in the public instrument.94

As we can see, lection eight includes the same arguments regarding the Dominican ownership of Thomas’s corpse that Bernard had presented in his Legend. The versicle and the lection can be interpreted in two ways: the versicle refers to Thomas’s passing away, i.e. his death and the friars’ sorrow, or it refers to the Cistercians’ determination to maintain a grip on the corpse, although Thomas himself had bequeathed it to the Dominicans. In the latter case the message of the lection could be interpreted as a counter-attack by the Dominicans, a way of demonstrating their right to the corpse. Judging by the fact that it was Bernard’s version of Thomas’s life which was taken as the basis for the lections of the liturgy, Dominican feelings must have been running high immediately after the canonization. In that situation, the versicle and the lection were most probably intended to be interpretable in both ways—as referring to Thomas’s death and to the unfairness of the corpse remaining in Cistercian hands. 92 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fols. 433va-434ra; Dreves, 1889, p. 231. 93 BAV, Barb. lat 400, fol. 434ra: ‘V. Clamor fratris trinus emittitur doctor noster a nobis tollitur’. Cf. Dreves, 1889, p. 232. 94 BAV, Vat. lat. 10153, fol. 34ra; Appendix, lectio VIII.

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Besides its emphasis on the Dominican right to Thomas’s corpse, the lection describes the exhumation of the corpse and its pleasant scent and uncorrupted state. The lection ends with the translatio, carried out seven years after Thomas’s death and, once again emphasizing its sweet redolence and uncorrupted condition. The respond and verse continued this praise of the miraculous appearance of the body. At the end of the lection, the choir sang ‘the glory of blessed Thomas shone with a divine miracle when the fragrant sweet odour flowed from the tomb. This happened because he lived the life of chastity and atonement’.95 The good perfume thus functioned as evidence of the non-contamination of the flesh. The perfume was the ultimate proof that Thomas had maintained his virginity until his death. In the church the incenses, the words of the lection, the chants repeating the message of the lection and the candlelight created a memorable experience for the audience. At the same time, when the reader or the choir intoned the redolence of Thomas’s dead corpse, sweet incenses were probably used, their scent strengthening the perception of Thomas’s praesentia.96 If the Dominican community owned a relic, the reliquary symbolized the tomb whence the attendants could sense the redolence of the body part. Possibly they could also see the uncorrupted body part and meditate on the wholeness of Thomas’s presence. It is possible that other objects which reminded the assembled of Thomas in one way or another were also used in this part of the liturgy, functioning in a similar way to the body parts. It is very likely that this suggestive moment was repeatedly used by the friars—and perhaps others—during the year, enabling them to recall the words, the music, and the scents as a meditative focus, not just so they could venerate Thomas, but to strengthen their own commitment to chastity and purity from sin. This kind of reminiscence is suggested in the Ystoria, in which it is related that a Dominican friar was able to avoid sin when he meditated on the redolence he had once experienced when he venerated Thomas’s hand-relic.97 The memory of the material presence of Thomas’s relic was powerful enough to recreate a similar ‘perfuming’ effect to avoid

95 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 434vb: ‘Beate Thome gloria diuino fulsit miraculo dum odoris fragrantia mira fluxit ex tumulo. Quia uita pudicitia uixit absque piaculo’. 96 On liturgy, senses and the saint’s presence, see Palazzo, 2010a. The praise of the miraculous odour is a constant theme over the whole Office of Thomas’s feast day, as for example during the lauds sung by the choir: ‘Manens doctrine ueritas et funeris integritas mira fragrans suauitas egris collate sanitas’: BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fols. 435vb-436ra. 97 Ystoria LXIX.

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sin, and the memory of the meditative locus too possibly helped to achieve the same result. The odour was a central element in Thomas’s cult, as has been pointed out several times. There is one more interesting example of the Dominican use of odour and its symbolism. Johannes de sancto Gimignano’s sermons were presumably preached in the piazzas of several Tuscan towns and villages.98 The sermon for Thomas’s feast day recalled in a detailed manner the numerous translations of Thomas’s corpse. The text, however, does not refer to the solid rationalizations of the Dominican right to the corpse that William of Tocco or Bernard Gui had presented in connection to the first transportation, that is, the Pope’s or Thomas’s own order to be moved to the custody of the friars Preachers.99 Thomas’s canonization, as well as the translations, are, however, very clearly integrated into the continuity of the saints of the Order in the sermon. Thomas is depicted as the third canonized Dominican after Saints Dominic and Peter Martyr and, like their corpses, Thomas’s was found to be uncorrupted and emitting a pleasant perfume when it was translated.100 Johannes emphasizes the exceptional nature of Thomas’s corpse in a way that would be clear to a casual lay audience in the piazzas of the towns. As an example, the Abbruzzese play of Thomas’s confraternity includes a scene in which a casual town dweller—in theory a Privernese—praises the marvellous odour, impossible to describe, ending with the accolade: ‘It is Thomas’s corpse which emits this sweetness’.101 Moreover, in its emphasis of the miraculous state of Thomas’s corpse, Johannes’s sermon highlights interestingly its similarity with the corpses of other Dominican saints, all pleasant-smelling, all belonging to the same spiritual family. In all likelihood, the majority of the people who participated in the festivities of Thomas’s feast day had no idea of the quarrel over Thomas’s remains between the Dominican Order and the Cistercians of Fossanova, a matter to which Johannes also refers, albeit implicitly. What the laity certainly did gain from the sermon was a clear conception of Thomas’s sanctity. Let us return to the Dominican church and study the last of the lections. This, the ninth and last lection of the matins, spectacularly creates Thomas’s presence through recitation and chants among the audience. The lection illustrates a vision in which two beautiful persons, one dressed in 98 According to Letizia Pellegrini, there are five manuscripts of Johannes’s collection surviving: three in Florence, one in Siena and in Rome: Pellegrini, 1999. 99 BNCF, Conv. sopp. J.I.41, fol. 360va; G. I. 516, fol. 45rb (modern foliation, 49rb). 100 BNCF, Conv. sopp. J.I.41, fol. 358vb. 101 De Bartholomaieis, 1924, pp. 77-113. ‘Ch’el corpo de Tomascy rende questa dolcecza’.

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the pontifical vestments and other in the habit of the Order of Preachers, speak to the Dominican friar Albert of Brescia. The person in the habit of the Order had a crown ornamented with precious jewels, two halos, and a great jewel on his chest, the splendour of which illuminated the Church.102 His vestments were also ornamented with precious stones. The two were Saint Augustine and Thomas, and according to the visionary, Saint Augustine presented Thomas and praised him as equal to himself in glory. The luxurious image of Thomas in heaven was repeated by the choir which repeated the content of the lection on the two halos and the jewels. The cantor finished the service, repeating the message of the lections by using the words of Augustine: ‘Thomas is equal with me in the glory, but better in his virginal purity’.103 Although the depiction of Thomas in the above text lends itself to iconographic representation, perhaps surprisingly it is not copied on the altar panels of the Dominican churches. In Dominican iconography only a splendid gem said to have been worn on Thomas’s chest became a typical attribute. The gem symbolizes divine wisdom and truthful doctrine, which Thomas had found through meditation. Abundantly jewelled vestments and halos are, however, typical in pictorial images of saint bishops and Madonna in medieval Italian art. The jewels of the saints refer to the heavenly life and the Heavenly Jerusalem, whose walls, according to the biblical texts, were built on layers of jasper, sapphire, and other precious stones.104 Interestingly, in a sermon for Thomas’s feast day Johannes de sancto Gimignano describes Thomas as the source of divine light and wisdom, but also as a sapphire. This gem, according to Johannes, had capacities to cure several diseases like fever or haemorrhagic disease, both of which belonged to Thomas’s repertory of curable illnesses, as we have seen from other sources.105 Paradoxically, although the lection refers to Thomas’s heavenly life, its detailed depiction of his material appearance makes him more understandable in the mundane world.106 The image of Thomas presented in the last lection can also be interpreted as a symbol of the Saint’s body, which was inside a splendidly decorated reliquary. The reliquary reappears as a representation of the body of Thomas at the beginning of the lauds: ‘Fossanova received a chest of the 102 On haloes in the Dominican iconography, see Saffrey, 1982. 103 Appendix, lectio IX; BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 435va: ‘Thomas mihi par est in gloria virginali prestans munditia’. 104 For example, Revelation 21:19-20. 105 BNCF, Conv. sopp. J.I.41, fol. 356rb. 106 On the material splendour and effects of the presence, see Kessler, 2004; Schmitt, 1999, pp. 152-153.

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treasure of grace when Christ made Thomas an heir of the glory of Heavenly Kingdom’.107 As we can see, the repetition of the most essential issues of the liturgy continues through the services of the day, a repetition that must have left an indelible image of Thomas in the minds of those present. The presence of Thomas’s body—first living, and then dead—was powerfully created by the liturgical language and drama of his feast day. Among Thomas’s virtues, his wisdom is one of the central themes of the liturgy. This wisdom, however, is always presented in relation to mysticism—levitations, prayers, visions, and so on—and hailed as a Divine gift in the lections. The hymn of the lauds makes an even clearer reference to the equality of this wisdom with other miraculous gifts merited by God: ‘He has left us the fruits of truth; he has left us his glorious relics which breathe forth a heavenly fragrance, and work cures for the suffering sick’.108 Thomas’s body was indeed an instrument of the divine will. This picture partly served the Dominican friars as a model for imitation. Thomas’s image as a scholar and mystic was so exceptional, however, that the picture of the liturgy of Thomas functioned more like a devotional image: the friars as well as the laity concentrated on the veneration of Thomas’s body, but not so intensely on imitation of his corporeal practices. This emphasis on the activity of Thomas, in which the living body played an important role, leads us to another central theme of the liturgy, Thomas’s corpse. In the next section, I will examine more closely the centrality of Thomas’s body for Dominican self-understanding.

Promoting the rightful ownership of Thomas’s corpse The Dominican medieval liturgy repeats the hagiographical emphasis on the importance of Thomas’s body. The question of the ownership of Thomas’s corpse has recurred throughout this work for good reason: it was of absolutely central importance to the Dominicans. If the sensitivity of the matter was apparent in the hagiography, it becomes still more so in the liturgical sources, to the extent that it even appears in non-Dominican material. It has already been mentioned that the Dominicans made use of the liturgy as a medium to spread their message about their right to the 107 BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fol. 435vb-436ra: ‘Fossa nova tunc suscipit tecam thesauri gratie cum christus thomam efficit heredem regni glorie’. If the texts for matins are remarkable standardized, there are notable differences in lauds in different manuscripts. 108 ‘Manens doctrine ueritas et funeris integritas mira fragrans suauitas egris collata sanitas’: BAV, Barb. lat. 400, fols. 435vb-436ra. The translation is by Gueranger, 1870, p. 482.

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corpse; here I intend to explore more fully the theme of Thomas’s corporeal presence as created among the faithful in the everyday life of some Dominican communities. The Dominicans did not simply produce laments for the absence of Thomas from their midst and justifications of their right to own the body, but works that compensated for their loss, works which created the presence of the body in other ways. The breviary was one medium to create this presence effectively by the texts and chants. Although a breviary as a liturgical book was first and foremost an aid for the personal attendance of the liturgical hours when a friar was not with his community, I do not consider the texts of the Dominican breviaries to be marginal or personal viewpoints on Thomas’s corpse. They are the fruits of the communities in which they were produced, probably for common use—albeit by individual friars. Moreover, the breviaries had to be produced following the general standards of the Dominican Order and the local liturgy.109 The breviaries form, to my mind, an important group of sources to understand Thomas’s significance among the Dominicans and I consider them highly relevant to my argument about the centrality of Thomas’s body for the community of the Preachers. Thomas Heffernan has strongly suggested that close attention should be paid to the ‘length, arrangement, and overall structure’ of the lections in order to understand their messages, something with which I wholeheartedly agree.110 In the previous section I presented the lections I would call the normal or standardized set, stabilized early in the fourteenth century. This set presents several central issues regarding Thomas’s sanctity through his living body. These lections also concentrate heavily on Thomas’s last days and his post mortem life: four lectures out of nine are dedicated to his arrival in Fossanova, his death there, and the events and the visions that occurred after his death. The comparison with the general practice in medieval saints’ liturgy is interesting, as the death of the protagonist is usually handled in one sentence, such as ‘the corpse was buried after death’.111 In this respect, the seventh and eighth lections of Thomas’s liturgy are quite unusual. Moreover, in Thomas’s lections there is far more about the corpse. As for the different versions of Thomas’s lections, although 109 The Dominican liturgical texts were in theory highly standardized from the time of Humbert of Romans: see Bonniwell, 1945; Dubreil-Aucin, 2011, pp. 91-113. Although the idea of a wholly standardized Dominican liturgy was an ideal, the breviaries normally included local variations—feasts of local saints venerated, for example, in certain dioceses. 110 Heffernan, 2005, pp. 84-85. 111 Heffernan, 2005, p. 87.

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there were few differences, one exception awakes great interest. This is in the manuscript Barb. lat. 496.112 The nine lections of the Dominican breviary Barb. lat. 496 are shortened from the standard text, taken entirely from the standard lections 7-9. In other words, the normal lections 1-6 are omitted completely, thus leaving only the theme of Thomas’s death and post mortem life. Pierre Salmon, who has catalogued the manuscript, notes that the handwriting and decoration of the manuscript refer to Italy but the saints are French. He argues that the manuscript was produced in the region of Emilia, in central Italy, in the fourteenth century.113 I agree with Salmon on the provenance of the manuscript, but I think it can be dated more precisely to between 1301 and 1307, based on the approval of the feasts of Saints Louis and Alexius in those years.114 The text for Thomas’s office is at the end of the manuscript Barb. lat. 496 with other later gatherings. The first group of additional gatherings (ff. 423vb-433ra) seems to be from the beginning of the fourteenth century. The feasts are added in the following order: Saint Alexius, Corpus Christi, Saint Thomas, Leonardus confessor, Saint Iulius confessor, Philippus and Iacobus, and some other apostles. The Dominican General Chapter confirmed the feast of Alexius in 1307, the feast of Corpus Christi in 1323, and the feast of Saint Thomas in 1326. The second group of additional gatherings (ff. 433r466va) begins with some prayers, clearly written in a different hand. The first feast in this gathering is dedicated to Saint Mary’s conception, which was confirmed in the Dominican Order by the Roman Obedience in 1394. Other feasts are for different ancient saints of lower status in the ranking of Dominican feasts.115 The feasts for Saint Mary—conceptio, approved in 1394, visitatio, approved in 1401—and Saint Michael—apparatio, approved in 1423—make an exception; they are celebrated in the highest rank.116 It 112 BAV, Barb. lat. 496. For comparing the text of this manuscript to the standardized set, see Appendix. 113 Salmon, 1968. 114 The feast for Saint Peter Martyr, to my mind, reinforces Salmon’s judgement on the Italian origin of the manuscript. Saint Peter’s cult was especially important in central Italy in the second half of the thirteenth century. In BAV, Barb. lat. 496, the feast stands out from the other feasts because of a beautiful historical miniature of Saint Peter himself. Saint Louis and Saint Alexius are French in origin, but accepted as celebrated universally in the Dominican Order. In Barb. lat. 496, the feast of Alexius is an addition from the same period as Thomas’s feast. On the Dominican calendar, see Leroquais, 1934, CI; Bonniwell, 1945, pp. 239-242. 115 These feasts are mainly celebrated with three lections. 116 The approval dates of the feasts are based on the study of Leroquais, 1934, CI. See also: Bonniwell, 1945, pp. 252-258.

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appears that Thomas’s feast was added to the breviary together with Corpus Christi very soon after its approval in 1326. The office for Thomas’s feast day is, as already mentioned, very peculiar: the first thing to catch the eye is the omission of the antiphons, psalms, and all the other chanted parts of the feast. There is only a prayer at the beginning, which is followed by the nine lections.117 The first lection begins with the words ‘The happy end came to him in the year of Lord 1274, in the forty-ninth year of his life’.118 The beginning is the same as the beginning of the seventh lection in the normal Dominican breviary. The first four lections of the manuscript Barb. lat. 496 derive directly from the seventh lection of the Dominican standardized breviary. Lections five, six, seven, and eight are the normal lection eight divided into four. The last sentence of the eighth lection is borrowed from the normal ninth lection, and the last lection is formed from the first half of the standard lection nine. In other words, the lections of Barb. lat. 496 are considerably abbreviated from the normal set of lections for Thomas’s feast day, and concentrate purely on the dead Thomas. The difference between the standard set of lections and those of Barb. lat. 496 is huge, and the lections of the latter are unique among the dozens of Dominican breviaries that I have studied. The lections of Barb. lat. 496 reflect a particular, rather radical view of Saint Thomas, handling only the death, the sanctity of the body, and its transportations, incorruptibility, and glory in the Kingdom of Heaven. The difference is not accidental: any doubt that the choice of material for the lections was accidental dissipates when it is observed that the three standard lections were reorganized into a new set of nine lections in a meticulous way. Even if it is suspected that the main reason for the abbreviated lections was a lack of space, this does not alter the fact that the parts copied were those considered the most important content of Thomas’s feast day office. This concentration on the dead body refers to the powerful relic cult. It was the dead body which was present in the eyes of those who read and used the text. Unfortunately, we have no means of knowing from which Dominican convent the manuscript was passed down. Whichever convent it was, it probably represents the wider cultural atmosphere among the Dominicans, a culture that would encourage such changes. The lections 117 The prayer is the famous ‘Deus qui ecclesiam tuam beati Thome confessoris’: BAV, Barb. lat. 496, fols. 429vb-430ra. 118 BAV, Barb. lat. 496, fol. 430ra: ‘Fuit autem felix transitus eius anno domini MCCLXXIIIJ uite uero sue anno quinquagesimo inchoante’.

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for Thomas’s feast day in manuscript Barb. lat. 496 may be taken as proof of a growing devotion towards Thomas’s corpse. The liturgy produced an association between Thomas’s presence and the objects used and present in the liturgical act. I have already discussed this theme, the connection between Thomas and Eucharist from the Cistercian viewpoint, in Chapter II. There is no need to repeat what has already been written, but it is necessary to study the materiality of the Corpus Christi and the Eucharist from the friars’ viewpoint, as there are interesting extant Dominican sources that allude to Christ’s body as a representation of Thomas’s corpse. It was possible to create this connection between two corpses daily in the mass and the Eucharistic meal, as I suggested that the Cistercians also did, but with the help of the Dominican material we can study the matter further and identify Thomas’s tangible presence from different material representations of Christ. The manuscript Barb. lat. 496 is one example of unifying two bodies as one: Thomas’s and Christ’s. In this particular manuscript, the lections speak solely about the dead bodies, although the corpse of Christ is allegorically present in the consecrated bread and wine. The lection of Thomas follows that of Corpus Christi, which reinforces the effect of the praise of the bodies. Here the physical connection—two successive texts—is probably also a consequence of the fact that both feasts were approved around the 1320s and copied one after another into the additional gathering part of the older breviary. There is, however, another manuscript—Vat. lat. 10153—which indicates that the placing of the lections on the bodies together in Barb. lat. 496 was not simply an accident of chronology. The manuscript Vat. lat. 10153 is from the Dominican Convent of Orvieto, and it was produced in two parts at the end of the fourteenth and the beginning of the fifteenth century.119 The older part contains the following texts: the Ystoria sancti Thome de Aquino of William of Tocco, the bull of canonization of Thomas, the lections for his feast day on 7 March (dies natalis), and the lections for the feast of the translation of Thomas’s body to Toulouse on 28 January.120 This part also contains the lections for the feast of Corpus Christi, the Ystoria de corpore Christi, the sermon for the feast of Corpus Christi, and a part of the Office of Corpus Christi. The first part seems to make up a kind of lectionary which glorifies Saint Thomas and his corpse, the corpse of Christ, and Thomas as the composer of Corpus Christi liturgy. There is also a second part which contains some lections for the annual cycles of de tempore and de sanctis 119 See more in Räsänen, 2016. 120 The lections for the translation feast are named as Alia historia translationis in AASS.

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and a life of Saint Euphrasia. In contrast to the first part of the manuscript, which gives the impression of a lectionary, the second part is more like a supplementary breviary.121 Thus, the older part of the manuscript must be seen as a special work containing considerable information on only two subjects, Saint Thomas Aquinas and the body of Christ. I consider the connection between Thomas’s and Christ’s dead bodies in Barb. lat. 496 and in Vat. lat. 10153 to be carefully thought out. In his lifetime, Thomas had followed in the footsteps of Christ, and more importantly, he had written about Christ’s body. Possibly the intimacy which Thomas’s had with God when he wrote the texts on the Corpus Christi—according to the Dominican writers—brought the image of Thomas next to Christ to mind. A fresco fragment from the Dominican Church of Fondi also reinforces the identification of Thomas’s corpse with Christ’s corpse. The theme of this mural painting is Man of Sorrow, and it decorates a kind of apsidal side altar which was once dedicated to Thomas.122 It was to this church that Thomas’s corpse was moved before the long transportation to Toulouse. I suggest that the altar was dedicated to Thomas in memory of the stay of his relics at the Church.123 The image, Man of Sorrow, most likely from the end of the fourteenth century, may refer to the altar as the place where the monstrance with the consecrated bread was conserved. At the same time, the picture and monstrance may have been instruments to create Thomas’s praesentia, as well as to keep the memory of the relics fresh in the Dominican Church of Fondi. Moreover, I suggest that the image of the Crucifix was exploited in the liturgy and Thomas’s cult to realise Thomas’s presence inside the Dominican church. There is an interesting narration that supports this idea in the lection of Thomas’s translation feast from the end of the fourteenth century. According to the lection, Raymundus Hugonis received a vision in front of the Crucifix of the Dominican church of Fondi that verified the content of the relic box as Thomas’s real corpse. It is reported that one night Raymundus 121 The Life of Saint Euphrasia (BHL 2719). The lections of the second part do not respect the order of the liturgical year. They are mainly lections for feasts which had already been added to the Dominican calendar in the thirteenth century, but they too do not necessarily follow the order of their acceptance. 122 De Filippis, 2005, 74-78. On the Chapel of Thomas Aquinas at the Church, see Martellucci [s.a.], pp. 78-112. 123 The altar may have even been the place where Thomas’s corpse was awaiting the further move to Toulouse. The sources do not offer any hint of the precise location of the relics: they just say that the relics were lodged at the convent for four months and that the placement was secret: Alia historia translationis 3; Historia translationis, pp. 90-91.

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searched for the truth from the church of the convent in front of the Crucifix: ‘And then, as a sudden joy was overwhelming his mind, he raised his eyes to the image of the Crucifix and saw in the air, between him and the aformentioned Crucifix, a beautiful appearance clothed in the Dominican habit’.124 According to the lections, Thomas himself, through the vision and the Crucifix, as the highest possible witness, authenticated his remains. The depicted scene of the incident at the church of Fondi appears to offer a meditative image in which Thomas and the crucified Christ were identified as parts of the same reality. The narration links Thomas’s corpse to the Crucifix. Without the bodily relics the Crucifix, the symbol of the suffering of Christ which Thomas had dedicated his life to understanding and of which he had received knowledge that was not possible for a normal human being, was a perfect object to realize Thomas’s presence for the faithful. I would argue, therefore, that Thomas’s corporeal presence became a visible and tangible materiality in Christ’s body and its representations in the Eucharist, Eucharistic vessels, and books which referred to them, as well as in the Crucifix. This means that Thomas’s presence was no longer connected only to the liturgical performance, as discussed above, but was continuously present in material form in the church space, for example, if the Eucharist was left inside a monstrance in the presbytery. Similarly, a book of the community could have become Thomas’s body, as it did in Orvieto. This particular book, Vat. lat 10153, was a unification of Thomas’s and Christ’s bodies, the presence of which was surely activated during liturgical readings. The book contained their bodies continuously, as five nails in the cover of the manuscript attest.125 Although the Vatican manuscripts Barb. lat. 496 and Vat. lat. 10153 are special cases among those texts I have managed to trace, and they tell of Thomas’s special veneration in their particular communities, it is unlikely that their liturgical or devotional functions were exceptional in the fourteenth century. Like them, there probably were several other manuscripts and objects which were perceived to represent Thomas’s bodily presence according to the needs and desires of late medieval people.126 124 Alia historia translationis 4: ‘Et ecce subito inoppinato mentis insurgente letitia, elevans oculos ad ymaginem crucif ixi uidit inter se et ymaginem prefatam pulcra faciem vultuque decoro in predicatorum habitu elevatum in aere’. 125 Five metal fittings on the cover of a medieval book was by no means a rarity. In this case, however, their symbolism was used to perfection. On liturgical books as a corpse (‘livre-corps’) in general in medieval context, see Palazzo, 2010b. 126 For example, a pulpitarium from the second half of the fourteenth century, probably from the Dominican women’s convent, Unterlinden, contains later additions. In this additional part

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I consider a legendary from a non-Dominican context an interesting proof regarding the Dominican propaganda which was included in the lections about their legacy of Thomas’s corpse. At the same time, it attests to the Dominicans’ desire to perceive the presence of Thomas’s body through the liturgy and the materiality of its language. The legendary was used by the canons of the papal basilica of Saint Peter in Rome. It was copied in the year 1339 and tells of the early adoption of Thomas’s cult among the canons, as noted already in Chapter III. In this legendary, Thomas’s lections are organized differently from those of the breviaries or lectionaries in Dominican use. First, the lections of the lectionary follow the content of the Dominican lections quite faithfully, but in shorter form. Lections eight and nine are formed from the Dominican lection seven. This means that the information of the original Dominican lection seven is still included in the Saint Peter’s lectionary, but the two last lections, eight and nine, are completely omitted. The omission of these lections removes the information regarding the fears of the Cistercian monks about losing Thomas’s body, the justification of Dominican rights to the body, the translations, and the sweet redolence of the corpse in Fossanova, not to mention the vision of Saint Thomas and Saint Augustine of Hippo.127 The Saint Peter’s lectionary finishes with Thomas’s death and Raynaldus’s words on Thomas’s confessions and virginity. With the part which emphasized that the corpse belonged to the friars omitted, Saint Peter’s lectionary was much less of a propaganda work than the Dominican books, and it seems very likely that the lections were remodelled in the non-Dominican context precisely to achieve this end. Either the corpse—or the discussion of its legal ownership—did not interest the canons of Saint Peter’s, or they did not want to take sides in the dispute between the Dominicans and the Cistercians. Interestingly, even the Dominicans reformulated the lection eight. There is one lectionary, the manuscript Vat. lat. 7592, which does not include the lection with the Dominican claims about their rights to Thomas’s body at all.128 Otherwise, the lections for Thomas follow the standardized set of lections. The background of the manuscript is uncertain but certain signs, such as the appearance of Peter Martyr without the clarification ‘from the Order of different feasts are seemingly organized rather randomly, but the office for Thomas’s translation with its normal emphasizing of the corpse and Corpus Christi are together: Colmar, ms. 303, fols. 177r-180r. In a hymn-book from the same convent different hymns for Corpus Christi and Thomas Aquinas are all grouped together after the institution of Thomas’s translation feast: Colmar, ms. 404; Meyer, 2006, pp. 23-24 and 57-59. 127 BAV, ArchCap. San Pietro A. 9, fols. 88ra-89vb. 128 BAV, Vat. lat. 7592.

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Preachers’, or the addition of Thomas’s canonization bull among the lections, refer to the Dominican use of the lectionary. It seems to have been prepared in the fifteenth century. The omission of lection eight may be a consequence of a situation in which the Order already possessed Thomas’s corpse in Toulouse, so that the lection lost some of its importance after the fourteenth century. It is worth bearing in mind that at the end of the fourteenth century, after the Order received Thomas’s corpse, a new liturgy was composed, which was entirely dedicated to the praise of the body of the Doctor. This liturgy was for the feast day of the translation of the relics to Toulouse on 28 January. Besides the precious corpse itself, the overall message of the new lections was the Dominican Order’s rightful position as its possessors. It seems that the new feast and the lections did not diffuse as rapidly and widely as one might expect given the diffusion of the normal feast (dies natalis), especially in Italy but also in different parts of Europe.129 One possible reason for the relatively low interest in the feast may be the general trying situation for the whole of Christendom at the end of the fourteenth century. First, the Pope’s attempts to restore the Papal See to Rome caused some instability, and some years later the Western Schism divided the whole Church into two camps, including the Dominican Order, which complicated the promotion of the translatio feast in different parts of Europe. There are, however, early copies of the translation feast, for example in liturgical manuscripts from the Dominican male convent of Colmar and the female convents of Poissy and Saint Catherine of Dissenhofen. This evidence suggests that the feast found even less acceptance in Italy than elsewhere and that local conditions determined whether or not the feast was adopted. The lack of success of the translation feast in Italy can be explained chiefly by the fact that Thomas’s corpse was transported away from the Peninsula to France, an act that was not fully accepted among the Italians. As far as the dies natalis feast is concerned, during the fifteenth century we can find several Dominican liturgical books in which the lections of dies natalis are abbreviated considerably. It is probable that the purpose of the abbreviated lections—the beginning of every lection was given—was 129 The opinion is based on the manuscripts I have managed to trace regarding the translation feast in Italy: the lections are included in Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. A, BNCF, Conv. sopp. 2.D.76, BAV, Vat. lat. 10153, and Vat. lat. 1218. The draft version of the long legend is also in Ms. A. An abbreviated version of the legend in Italian, in Archivio dei Predicatori, Ms. Cas. 3. Other liturgical material from the end of the fourteenth and the beginning of the fifteenth century is almost not-existent: I have found a hymn for Thomas’s translation feast in Archiginnasio, A. 179, and coral fragments in Fondazione Cini, cas. 32-35 and 49. On the manuscript of Florence, see Pomaro, 1980, pp. 378-379; on the legend in Italian: Delarun, 2003; in French: Tylus, 2007, pp. 336-337. On the coral fragments, see Toesca, 1968.

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to offer a memory aid to the reader who could recite the rest of the lection by heart. The correct use of the lections was probable in the Dominican communities, in which Thomas’s lections were repeated for almost two hundred years.130 Although the lections were familiar and their correct repetition was probably not a problem, I suggest that the main reason behind the change was not so much the familiarity of the lections as the fact that the Dominicans now possessed Thomas’s corpse, so that the claims and justifications for their ownership of the remains were no longer as important as they had been during the fourteenth century.131 The centrality of Thomas’s corpse had become deeply ingrained in the Dominican self-understanding. The desire for the relics did not vanish instantly when one community of the Order received the relics. As the community was in Toulouse in France, there were still those in Italy who regretted its ‘loss’ at the turn of the fourteenth and fifteenth century. This can be seen especially well in Orvieto and Naples, cases which I consider in the next section.

Thomas’s Neapolitan memory The Neapolitan memory of Thomas is a special case. Spiritually, Naples was Thomas’s home town, but his real birth place was in the frontier area of the Kingdom. The complex nature of Thomas’s citizenship seems to come out from the thoughts of Count Honoratus of Fondi who, according to the Dominican tradition, initially hesitated to give up Thomas’s corpse to the King of Naples because it would have been a wrong to Thomas’s patria.132 Thomas Aquinas was born in the family castle of Roccasecca near Aquino and Fondi as the youngest son of Landulfus de Aquino, from an esteemed noble family of the area. Thomas joined the Order in Naples, which in a certain sense made him a Neapolitan.133 He took the vows and went through 130 An early Venetian print of Breviarium secundum ordinem sancti Dominici by Johannes de Colonia in 1481. 131 Agnès Dubreil-Arcin has stressed the centrality of the liturgical texts for the Dominican inner coherence and identity, which means that enforced standardization was necessary so that the liturgy could fulfil its task: Dubreil-Arcin, 2011, pp. 421-422, and passim. From this viewpoint, the omitting of one lection is remarkable and it must tell about the change in the Dominican Order in general as well as the significance of Thomas’s feast day in particular. 132 Alia historia translationis 2. 133 Cf. Hinnebusch, 1965, p. 218. The definition ‘Sicilian ox’ which is familiar to us from Chapter III, refers to Thomas’s identity as a ‘citizen’ of the Kingdom of Naples / Sicily.

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the required rites surrounded by the Neapolitan friars. The same friars supported Thomas when he negotiated his way through the obstacles his family placed in the way of his future as a mendicant. Finally, after being held captive for one to two years in his home castle, Thomas received permission from his family to continue his vocation and his Dominican life. Accordingly, the winners of the competition over the ‘body and soul’ of the gifted boy were the Dominicans.134 Although Thomas did not stay for long in Naples at that time, but made a career especially as a teacher of the University of Paris, he returned to Naples several times. For example, at the request of the Provincial Chapter of the Roman Province he established a new Studium generale in 1272. He seems to have chosen Naples as its natural location. He was also a teacher at the University of Naples when he departed on his last journey from Naples to the Council of Lyons in 1274.135 Thomas’s spiritual heritage seems to have been immense for the whole city of Naples. At the end of the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth century, even the architectural settings of the City spoke Thomas’s theological language, according to Caroline Bruzelius.136 My focus in this section is the memory of Thomas’s body at his home convent, San Domenico Maggiore, and in the city of Naples. The case of Naples offers us particularly good possibilities to study the passions which Thomas and his earthly remains roused, and further, the living memory of his relics during the decades following his death and succeeding centuries. Thomas’s decision to join the Order was probably a remarkable victory for the local Dominicans. That occasion, as well as the events that followed, soon became a part of the Dominican narrative and written tradition. By the 1250s, the story had become a constant theme in Dominican literature. First, Gerard of Frachet included the episode of the young nobleman who took the habit of the Order in his Vitae fratrum.137 Vitae fratrum was created at the invitation of the General Chapter and the Master of the Order, Humbert of Romans, in 1255. It was compiled to conserve the historical and hagiographical memory of the friars, and as such it constituted the 134 Räsänen, 2010. 135 Porro, 2012, p. 455. It is worth noting that the King paid Thomas’s salary for teaching at the University of Naples. As regards Thomas’s popularity in thirteenth-century Naples, it is also stated that he was a popular preacher in the city: for example, see Walz, 1961a, p. 290. 136 According to Bruzelius, the architectural commissions of Bartholomaeus da Capua had a great role in changing the atmosphere of Naples. Bartholomaeus’s ally in several building projects was Filippo Minutolo, the Archbishop of Naples: Bruzelius, 2005, p. 142. 137 Gerard of Frachet, Vitae fratrum, p. 201. The identification is certain, although Gerard did not mention Thomas by name. For further reading on the episode, see Räsänen, 2010.

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friars self-understanding as a part of the Order.138 For the Neapolitan Dominicans in particular, Thomas’s story was of great importance: their famous member seems to have become an emblem in constructing their community identity.139 The most important Dominican f igures to conserve and promote Thomas’s saintly fame in Naples were Raynaldus de Piperno, William of Tocco, and John of Naples.140 In addition to them, the layman Batholomaeus of Capua had an important role. The canonization material reveals that these four men had their own personal memories of Thomas, as well as collecting the reminiscences of others and recycling them to anyone willing to hear or read them. In the canonization hearings there are several men, both religious and lay, who attest to having heard about Thomas’s saintly life from his socius Raynaldus, who, after Thomas’s death, apparently stayed and taught in Naples, as well as touring the Dominican convents in Southern Italy.141 William of Tocco’s activity is already familiar to us. He played the most important part in collecting and writing down stories of Thomas’s life and his miracles.142 William’s strength was apparently fading before the final decision about the canonization came. John of Naples took his position as the procurator of the process. John was a member of the noble Neapolitan Regina family and one of the most gifted students at the University of Naples at that time. John became a faithful Thomist, working forcefully to resolve disagreements on Thomas’s doctrine before the canonization: for example, he defended the doctrine openly in Paris in 1316.143 In the canonization hear138 Acta Capitulorum Generalium, III, p. 76. On the evolution of the text, see Tugwell, 2001, pp. 415-418. 139 Räsänen, 2010. 140 Besides these three men, there were certainly such personalities as Friar Troianus, Eufranone della Porta of Salerno, Matteo della Porta, and John of Giuliano. They were among the most efficient promoters of Thomas’s cult. For some basic information about these friars, see Taurisano, 1924a; Foster, 1959. More extensively, on the support of the Southern Italians for Thomas’s canonization process, see Walz, 1925b. 141 Raynaldus de Piperno, called as socius carissimus of Thomas. He is considered the immediate follower and propagandist for Thomas’s intellectual work. For the testimonies in which Raynaldus is mentioned as an informant of miracle stories, see Neapoli: VI, XL, LIX, LXXXIX. Also see Walz, 1925. 142 Presumably William collected the material connected to Thomas’s saintly life long before the official canonization process began: Foster, 1959, p. 6. Besides collecting memories, he is often mentioned as an informant on the stories for which the witnesses were not present themselves: Neapoli XL; Walz, 1925. 143 See Walz, 1925, p. 121. John was born c. 1270 in Naples. He began his studies with the Neapolitan Dominicans, the first generation of Thomas’s pupils. He completed his studies in Paris: Taurisano, 1924a, p. 160; Kaeppeli, 1940, pp. 48-76.

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ings, perhaps a little surprisingly, John emphasized solely Thomas’s sanctity and not his theological work and general importance to the Church.144 It is quite natural that memories of Thomas, his sanctity, and the developing cult were effectively diffused among the Dominicans and noble devotees, who travelled widely to and from Naples for different reasons—studies, preaching, teaching, and administrative tasks, and so on. An impressive example is the testimony of Anthony of Brescia, who was studying at the convent of Naples. Anthony testifies to a story he had heard from Nicholas of Marsillac, who was a Dominican friar and former chaplain and counsellor to the King of Cyprus. The story itself is not remarkable in the context of this study; Anthony says that Nicholas had studied under Thomas’s guidance in Paris and seen that ‘brother Thomas was a holy and upright man, and in particular a lover of poverty; for example, he wrote the Summa contra gentiles on small bits of scribbling paper, since he had no other writing material’.145 However, the way Anthony became aware of the tale is revealing: he says he met Nicholas in the Dominican school at Nicosia, that is, far away from the cultic centre of Southern Italy on the island of Cyprus in 1306.146 At the time when the cult diffused to the Dominican convents around Europe, the South Italian friars were the most fervent supporters of the Saint’s veneration. Innocenzo Taurisano has speculated that the South Italian Dominicans and Thomas’s disciples, who had risen to high positions in the Order as well as in the administration of the Kingdom, wished to begin a canonization process as early as the 1280s. Taurisano has seen Iohannes de Caiazzo and the Provincial Chapter organized in Gaeta in 1286 as especially important on the way to cementing Thomas’s position among the blessed of the Order.147 He suggests, for example, that Remigio de’ Girolami found inspiration and composed at that meeting his famous verses including the sentence: ‘Oh, why does Fossanova keep the bones of 144 Neapoli XLVIII. According to Innocenzo Taurisano, John prepared several sermons for Thomas. A Neapolitan manuscript once conserved ten of them: two for the canonization festivities and eight to pronounce during the Saint’s feast day. Unfortunately, today only one of these exists: Taurisano, 1924a, pp. 162, 181-182. 145 Neapoli LXVI. For the translation and information regarding Nicholas of Marsillac, see Foster, 1959, pp. 103, 122, notes 52, 53. 146 Neapoli LXVII. There were other Dominicans—like Petrus de Mantua—present in Nicosia, but Anthony did not remember their names. On the diffusion of Thomas’s cult in the Dominican Provinces, see Walz, 1925b, pp. 109-110. 147 Iohannes de Caiazzo, the Definitor of the General Chapter in 1280, the General Preacher in 1284 and the Prior Provincial in 1285. Taurisano believes that Iohannes organized a trip from the Provincial Chapter of Gaeta to Thomas’s tomb in Fossanova. Iohannes died soon after 1294: Taurisano, 1924a, pp. 124-125, and note 3.

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the venerable Thomas? I beg that they could be moved from there and be kept by the Dominicans’.148 Angelo Walz, for his part, regards Thomas’s cult as sufficiently strong among the South Italian Dominicans at the beginning of 1290s for the desire to have Thomas canonized to arise then. An additional impulse to ideas of Thomas’s canonization, according to Walz, was given by the division of the old Dominican Roman Province into two parts in 1294.149 A new province, Provincia regni, included the mainland south of the Papal States and the Island of Sicily. Walz claims that the Dominicans of Southern Italy wanted Thomas Aquinas as their own canonized saint, and as such, a symbol of the area.150 An important promoter of the early provincial cult was Nicholas Brunacci, the first Provincial of the new Province.151 The mother convent of the Provincia regni was San Domenico Maggiore in Naples, as it was once the mother convent of Thomas Aquinas. In this kind of situation, in all probability, the local Dominicans would have seen San Domenico Maggiore as Thomas’s most natural entombment place and hoped that the corpse would be transferred there. If there were hopes for Thomas’s canonization in 1280s and 1290s, they were not realized at that time. Hopes rose again when it was decided that the canonization project would begin in the Dominican Provincial Chapter of the Provincia regni in 1317, held in Gaeta. The Dominicans who bore witness at the canonization hearings were largely local friars. William had also collected numerous miracles that had occurred to Neapolitan clerics and other local men personally involved to the process of Naples.152 The official petition for Thomas’s canonization came from Queen Mary of Naples and her sons, the masters and students of the University of Naples, the Dominicans, and the city.153 As Rosalba Di Meglio points out, this kind of broad support from different communities was far from normal, and gives an interesting approach to Thomas’s cult in Naples, although one should probably read the petition as partly rhetorical.154 148 Taurisano, 1924a, pp. 125-126, 142. 149 Walz, 1961. The separation was caused by the intervention of King Charles II of Naples. The new province was confirmed by a bull of Pope Celestine V, Clara ordinis: Hinnebuch, 1965, p. 174; Cioffari and Miele, 1993, p. 36. On the close relationship between Charles II and the newly elected pope, see Gigli, 2001. 150 Walz, 1961. 151 Foster, 1959, p. 5. 152 Miracula XVI, LIV, LVI, CXLV. 153 Neapoli III. On the promoters: le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996; Torrell, 1996, pp. 317-324; Walz, 1925, p. 125; Vauchez, 1977b, pp. 753-767, esp. 758. From 1309 onwards Mary was a widow queen and the queen mother, while her son Robert was King. 154 Di Meglio, 2013, p. 104.

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Thus, it seems that Thomas’s cult was successfully exported from the Neapolitan convent to the rest of the city, and it gained a strong foothold especially within the nobility in the turn of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. King Robert of Naples’ personal enthusiasm for Thomas’s canonization is emphasized in reports written by eye-witnesses from the canonization festivities of Avignon in 1323. During the festivities, King Robert gave a speech in Thomas’s honour. He chose as his starting point the theme of Thomas as the light and giver of light: Ille erat lucerna ardens et lucens (He was a burning and shining light).155 According to the reports, at the end of the speech the King fell on his knees, and asked John XXII to canonize Thomas. The King and Queen were the honorary guests at the City Cathedral when the Pope declared Thomas a saint; they were also honorary guests on the next day at the Dominican Church, where the festivities continued.156 An anonymous reports that when the Dominicans thanked the King for the faithful work he had done for the successful canonization of Thomas, the King responded with emphasized humbleness: ‘when we want something for ourselves from the Pope we will write to him, but when we desire something for this saint, if possible, we will come personally to the Pope’.157 As the King favoured Thomas’s canonization it should come as no surprise that Thomas was highly regarded in the King’s court. Batholomaeus of Capua was an especially important lay promoter of Thomas’s cult in these circles. He was profoundly influenced by Thomas’s thought, and he continued to follow his Dominican disciples.158 This deeply devout man was close to the royal family of Naples for decades, and enjoyed several high positions in the court and government of the Kingdom. From this position at the court, Bartholomaeus had great influence on the cultural and presumably also the religious life of Naples.159 Furthermore, I believe 155 John 5:35. Gross, 2009, p. 78. 156 The programme of the festivities was, roughly speaking, divided into speeches in the streets, masses and other divine rites at the churches and banquets, again in the streets. The eye-witness descriptions are in Laurent, 1937. 157 ‘Quod quum volumus aliquid pro persona nostra a sanctissimo patre nostro, significamus ei per cedulam; et per [lege: pro] isto sancto libenter, quando oportuit, accesimus personaliter ad beatitudinem suam’: Laurent, 1937, p. 517. Robert lived in Avignon, and frequently met the Pope in 1319-1324: Kelly, 2003, p. 78. 158 For Thomas’s followers, see Bartholomaeus’s testimony Neapoli LXXVI, LXXVIII. Bartholomaeus’s personal devotion can be seen particularly well in a dedication of one chapel to Thomas in his home town, Capua, not far from Naples. Cf. Walter and Piaccialuti, 1964. 159 Bruzelius, 2005, p. 180; Vitolo, 2000. In general, on Bartholomaeus: Walter and Piccialuti, 1964. On Angevin household and government of the Kingdom: Kelly, 2003, pp. 54-72. On Mendicants and the Neapolitan political culture: Di Meglio, 2013.

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that with the assistance of Bartholomaeus and other similar lay promoters of Thomas’s sainthood, the cult penetrated Neapolitan religiosity both deeply and widely. I suggest that at the beginning of the fourteenth century, the atmosphere was sufficiently favourable for Thomas’s cult to obtain some popularity among ordinary Neapolitans.160 It is often argued that Thomas Aquinas was adopted among the royal cults under Anjou protection and promotion but did not gain wider popularity in Neapolitan society. Without any detailed analysis of individual saints, for example, Samatha Kelly states that not one of the royal cults achieved success among the ordinary citizens, largely because they were seen as representative of royal supremacy.161 Rosalba Di Meglio has a similar idea of Thomas’s poor success among the larger community of Neapolitans.162 In my opinion, these arguments have been made about the general success of the cult without sufficient investigation into different types of local sources for popular religiosity. There are, for example, strong reasons to presume that the great popularity of the Corpus Christi cult also positively affected Thomas’s cult in Naples, something that has yet to be researched. In the new Dominican church building started in 1283 was a large Chapel dedicated to the Crucifix, namely Capellone del Crocifisso. The Chapel housed the Crucifix which, according to the Dominican tradition, had spoken to Thomas when he stayed at the convent. Different activities in connection to the Chapel attest the importance and success of explicit and implicit cults of the place. I would argue that the success of Thomas Aquinas’s cult cannot simply be measured by direct evidence of it such as number of images and surviving legends, or translations of the legends into Italian. There are numerous references to the fact that Thomas’s saintly image assimilated with his writings on the Eucharist and that consequently his fame was associated with the Corpus Christi cult, albeit probably in a minor role, in late medieval and Early Modern Europe.

160 At the canonization hearings of Naples, there were several local noblemen who gave their most sincere testimony about their devotion towards Thomas: Neapoli VI, XL. There are some more miracles in Miracula: CXLI, CXLIII. 161 The saints of royal protégée were especially Louis of Toulouse (d. 1297), Robert’s brother, Mary Magdalen, Maria of Hungary, Nicholas of Tolentino, and Thomas Aquinas. Kelly, 2003, pp. 96-104. On Louis of Toulouse’s cult in Naples: Toynbee, 1929, pp. 205-208. 162 Di Meglio, 2013, p. 104.

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The importance of the matter Given the Dominican and Neapolitan memory of Thomas as presented above and as detected in the edited sources, a manuscript breviary—namely codex VI.F.6—offers a surprise. The breviary was used at San Domenico Maggiore in Naples in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. At first glance, there is nothing uncommon or surprising in the breviary. Thomas’s feast was added to the end of the first part of the manuscript soon after 1326.163 The content of the breviary shows clearly how readily the local Dominicans adopted the feast into the liturgical cycle of the convent. If we examine the text for Thomas’s feast day more closely, it can be seen that in general the lections faithfully follow the standard set of the lections: In the first seven lections, there is nothing unexpected. It is in the lection eight that the striking exception from the standard occurs. Two words are omitted: apud Neapolim (i.e. at the Napolitan convent). As the omission is from the book which was used in the Neapolitan convent, this must have been a conscious choice. The omission means that whereas in general the lections emphasize Thomas’s body as Dominican property, and that it should have been transported to Naples—probably to San Domenico Maggiore—the Neapolitan breviary does not mention this. Thus the lection for Thomas’s feast day leaves out precisely those words which one would have expected to have been the most important to the local friars. How should we interpret this? I have studied numerous Dominican liturgical manuscripts and especially breviaries in order to understand better Thomas’s significance to the Italian Dominicans as a canonized saint. In the previous section the standardized form of the Dominican lections for Thomas’s feast day in the fourteenth century were noted. Besides the Neapolitan codex VI.F.6, I have found one other set of lections which similarly omits the words apud Neapolim. This manuscript is Rossiani 80. It is of Italian origin and, like the lections of Naples, these lections can be dated to a time close to the approval of the feast day.164 The breviary Barb. lat. 496 also omits the words apud Neapolim, but in it the whole lection eight is in a non-standard form. I have also come across some Dominican breviaries in which the whole of lection eight is omitted, but these are later texts from the fifteenth century. The fact that there are only a few exceptions from the standardized set of the lections speaks for the importance of the text to the Dominicans in general. 163 The breviary from the Dominican convent of San Domenico Maggiore is now lodged in the BNN, with the shelf mark VI.F.6; Kaeppeli, 1966, p. 42. 164 BAV, Rossiani 80, fols. 380vb-387ra; Salmon, 1968.

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To my mind, the omission of the words apud Neapolim manifests the special relationship between Saint Thomas and the community who used the text. In the case of Naples, this special relationship concerns Thomas’s corpse, which had huge importance for the convent of San Domenico Maggiore. As the provenience of the manuscript Rossiani 80 is uncertain, it does not allow any deeper analysis in regard to the significance of Thomas’s corpse to the community that produced the manuscript. The Neapolitan Dominicans certainly desired Thomas’s body, but why they did not use the possibility the lections offered to them to claim their rights to the body is a challenging question. I suggest that one reason for the omission was a combination of realism and the friars’ disappointment. The Neapolitan Dominicans did not receive Thomas’s corpse after the canonization. As a result of the canonization, the flow of pilgrims to Fossanova presumably grew. In consequence, the corpse was even more safely ensconced at the Monastery than before. Looked at from a longer perspective, the local Dominicans knew the realities of the situation: it was clear that the Cistercians would not easily give up Thomas’s body. Nonetheless, the Neapolitan breviary codex VI.F.6 repeats the content of the standard breviaries and Gui’s Legenda about the existence of the public instrument. Here, it is suggested that the manuscript reflects the immense disappointment of the Neapolitan Dominicans at their failure to get Thomas’s corpse. They felt the lack of the relics so deeply that they could not sustain the tradition according to which Thomas’s corpse belonged to Naples. In consequence, it seems that the local friars exercised a certain damnatio memoriae, omitting the words apud Neapolim from the memory of Thomas’s relics. The disappointment of the friars had long-term consequences in Naples: it seems that the cult of Thomas’s relics was omitted from the local tradition for centuries. In fact, the Neapolitan Dominicans received the relic of Thomas’s ‘entire bone of arm from node to node’ in 1372. The donation was made by decision of the General Chapter of the Order, which gathered in Toulouse in May 1372, without doubt in festive mood as they could finally gather in the presence of Thomas Aquinas’s remains. The Prior as well as the friars of the convent of the town agreed with the Chapter on the donation.165 The hand-relic looks like a consolation prize for Naples, which had presumably desired the whole body when the Pope turned it over to the Preachers. Sadly, the consolation seems to have arrived in Naples too late. According to the donation letter, a solemn feast was organized at San 165 For the document, see Douais, 1903, pp. 164-165.

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Domenico Maggiore to honour the arrival in 1372. However, there is no other evidence of any particular devotion of this relic after the welcome party in Naples. The relic cult linked to the hand seems to have emerged only when Thomas was promoted to become one of the patron saints of Naples in 1605.166 Instead of a bone-relic cult, the Neapolitan Dominicans concentrated on remembering Thomas-related matters that they could consider their own, such as his youth and his entry into the Order in the Neapolitan convent of San Domenico Maggiore around the year 1244.167 A Neapolitan legendary of San Domenico Maggiore from the early fifteenth century depicts the memory of Thomas at that time: the text of his life is abbreviated and concentrates merely on his birth, youth, and miracles, which took place mainly in Southern Italy. The collection reveals how important the memory of Thomas’s entry into the Order in Naples was and how little the standardized Dominican memory interested people there. It erases all Bernard’s addition, such as the document and the transport of the corpse to Naples.168 Considering the breviary and the legendary together, I would argue that the Neapolitan tradition, whether by accident or design, took into account local disappointment at the failure to obtain Thomas’s body. The final blow was Thomas’s transfer to Toulouse instead of Naples when the Pope finally awarded the corpse to the Dominicans in 1368. Although neither the Dominicans nor the city of Naples gained possession of Thomas’s corpse at the beginning of the fourteenth century, the veneration of the Saint spread throughout the different communities of the town. This veneration, however, concentrated on material memories of Thomas other than the bodily remains. A good example of Thomas’s importance to the Neapolitans is that he was adopted among the saints that were celebrated in the Franciscan environment of the city. According to a breviary, namely Vat. lat. 12981, Thomas’s feast day was introduced among the lower feasts with three lections.169 Although the ranking is low, it is nevertheless worthy of note that Thomas’s memory was included in the Franciscan liturgy in Naples itself and, as it seems, not particularly enthusiastically elsewhere.170 On a general level, the adopting and exchange 166 Douais, 1903, pp. 164-165; also Clemente 1873, pp. 42-50; Masetti 1874, p. 60; Galasso, 1982. 167 Nevertheless, there were some unspecified Thomas relics at the convent: Neapoli XCV. 168 BNN, Cod. VIII.B.9, fols. 101vb-102ra. 169 BAV, Vat. lat. 12981, fols. 275va-275vb. In the calendar there is no marking indicating the ranking of the feast. 170 The Franciscan manuscript Harley 3368 of the British Library is very interesting from this viewpoint. It contains texts for Thomas’s dies natalis and translatio, both abbreviated additions

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of liturgical feasts between Orders was rather common in the Late Middle Ages. Rosalba Di Meglio states that the Mendicant Orders possession of altars for saints from the rival Orders was a Neapolitan speciality. 171 The controversies between the Franciscans and Dominicans regarding Thomas’s doctrine and his canonization were mentioned in Chapter I. It is more than possible that these controversies were mirrored in Thomas’s later cult and that this is why his feast was not generally adopted in the Franciscan Order. The case of Naples was presumably different to the extent that the Franciscan friars of the town acknowledged Thomas’s success there. Besides Thomas’s personal success, the existing peculiar tradition of taking care of the saints of rivals may also be grasped in the Franciscan breviary of Naples. Thomas’s importance beyond the Dominican Order in Naples and the larger area in Southern Italy can be perceived from Montecassinese manuscripts. The Benedictine Mother Abbey and its dependants included Thomas’s among the feasts they celebrated annually. The ranking varies from the highest category to lower categories, not always specified. There are, for example, lections for Thomas’s office in the Cassinese Monastery of Santissimi Severino e Sossio in Naples from the middle of the sixteenth century. Once again, the lections faithfully follow the Dominican standard lections until the seventh lection. The normal seventh lection is already remarkably condensed, and lections eight and nine are omitted completely.172 From Montecassino itself, there are several examples. Presumably an early addition to manuscript 419 with twelve lections may indicate that in the beginning Thomas’s feast was warmly welcomed into the highest category of saints’ feasts, celebrated at the main basilica of the Monastery.173 A breviary from the turn of the fourteenth and the fifteenth century contains only three lections, but they are remarkably broad in content, with almost the same information as the standardized Dominican lections for Thomas’s from the lections. Otherwise the codex, from North Italy and the second half of the fifteenth century, contains a sermon collection De commendatione virtutum et reprobatione vitiorum of Michael de Carcanis de Mediolano (1427-1486). I am indebted to Professor Stefano Pagliaroli, who has shared the information regarding this manuscript. 171 De Meglio, 2013, p. 73 172 BNN, Cod. VIII.AA.7, fols. 79v-81. 173 In a breviary from the thirteenth century, Montecassino, Ms. 419, there is an addition to the calendar: ‘Thome de Aquino : do : xij l’. The last sign refers to his ranking in the highest category of saints. Montecassino, Ms. 128, is a missal with the calendar: On 7 March there is an original marking for Thomas’s feast day. It simply says ‘Thome de Aquino’, without the ranking. This codex is from the first half of the fourteenth century.

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feast day.174 It seems that in Montecassinese liturgical life, Thomas was presented in a similar way as among the Dominicans. The Montecassinese breviary from Naples does not include the information that Thomas belonged to the Neapolitan Dominican Convent, but the breviary that was used in the Mother Abbey does.175 Thomas had a firm position in the memory of Montecassino,176 probably in part because of his family’s relations with the Abbey, Thomas’s own connections to it, and simply because his cult became an important part of South Italian culture. On the basis of medieval and Early Modern manuscripts from San Domenico Maggiore, as well as edited medieval material of Thomas’s cult in general, we can say that Thomas’s memory in Naples was chiefly tied to his living person, his life as a Dominican friar, and he was remembered through his mystical experiences, many of which occurred in San Domenico, as well as through his teaching and founding the Studium generale in connection to the convent. San Domenico was also Thomas’s last real dwelling place before his death. To put it simply, for the Neapolitan Dominicans the most important relics of Thomas were not his bodily remains, but rather the places where he lived and worked and the objects he had been in contact with. A special secondary relic in Naples with a powerful connection to the Saint was his cell. There exists one miracle story which defines the origin of the cell as Thomas’s cultic place.177 According to the miracle, a beautiful and vain countess lived in Naples. She took perfumed baths, changed clothes three times a day, organized splendid banquets, and slept in three sumptuous beds during one night. Her lifestyle, naturally, was punished by God and an abundance of worms began to consume her flesh. The miracle story attests that the Dominicans visited the countess and because she seemed ready for penitence they advised her to pray to Thomas Aquinas for the newly canonized saint’s protection. The countess prayed and saw a vision in which Thomas promised to cure her if she would renovate his old cell at the convent of Naples as his chapel. These works she should finance by selling

174 Montecassino, Ms. 466, fols. 152b-160a. The codex is copied by Iohannes Hungarus, a priest of the Monastery, who, according to the codex Casinensis 47, fol. 214, died on 23 April 1462. 175 Montecassino, Ms. 466, fol. 158a. 176 A martyrology of Montecassino also conserves Thomas’s memory in a margin of one folio ‘Apud fossam nouam natale. Sancti Thome confessoris viri erudissimi’, Montecassino, Ms. 47, fol. 48. 177 The miracle is published by Innocenzo Taurisano from a manuscript of Taegio. Unfortunately, Taurisano is rather vague on the source: Taurisano, 1924b, p. 319.

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all the jewels from her richly stocked jewel case. The countess promised this, and was cured, after which she fulfilled her promise.178 A reorganization of Thomas’s cell was a perfect way to make the Saint more visible and present in Naples. The miracle story has functioned as an excellent myth of origin of Thomas’s cult place, which was subsequently named after him. With Thomas’s acceptance the place became a relic of his presence. The friars presumably tried to convince the devotees of Thomas’s constant presence there by retelling the miracle story and use of other memories, stories and objects which testified that Thomas had lived there before his death. In the seventeenth century at the latest, the cell and its immediate surrounds were monumentalized. The whole site offered an impression of a reliquary which enclosed the true relic, the cell.179 A profitable comparison can be made between the situation of Naples and that in another city where Thomas’s cult had strong roots, Orvieto. The latter town is in the frontier area of Lazio and Toscana. We already know the manuscript Vat. lat. 10153, from the Dominican Convent of Orvieto. The Orvietan memory of Thomas’s relics in this manuscript emphasizes the Order’s rights to the body and the fulfilment of that right at the time of the translatio. The Dominican right to possess Thomas’s corpse is once again presented in lection eight. It is worth noting that the manuscript also contains William’s Ystoria, albeit an ‘abridged version’ lacking the last five chapters. Their absence is unusual.180 The first of the chapters, included in the standard version but omitted from the Orvietan manuscript, would have included William’s rather tentative rationalization of the case for Dominican ownership of Thomas’s corpse. As we have already seen, Bernard Gui’s lection eight presented a much more convincing case for Dominican ownership than the Ystoria. In addition, the Orvietan manuscript gives a fresh history of Thomas’s body in a new set of lections for the translation feast, and a narrative of how Thomas’s corpse was finally transferred to 178 Taurisano, 1924b, pp. 319-320, 323. 179 Perrotta 1828. The same happened in Fossanova with the room where Thomas died. Teodoro Valle explains how Thomas’s cell in Fossanova became a pilgrimage place: Valle, 1637, p. 175. The room was decorated in the seventeenth century (if not earlier) by art works and texts celebrating Thomas’s last days and death at the monastery: Pagliaroli, 2012, pp. 275-297. In Sangiovanni in Campano, the room where Thomas was imprisoned was, according to the legends, also changed into ‘Thomas’s chapel’. 180 Claire le Brun-Gouanvic has collected and analysed the existing manuscripts of the Ystoria of William of Tocco. From her list of the manuscripts we can see that the version of Orvieto is the only one in which the five last chapters are lacking: le Brun-Gouanvic, 1996, pp. 61-67.

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the Dominicans and to Toulouse and how it was glorified there. Thomas’s body was in the possession of the Order and this vitally important fact was emphasized in the manuscript by the standard narration of the translatio. In addition to the emphases which were important for the whole Order, the manuscript also reflects local emotions. There are matters which are evidently deliberately omitted from the manuscript, and at the same time form the memory of the Orvietan Dominicans. Among them are the description of the post mortem life of Thomas’s relics in Fossanova, the devotion of the body, and the single relic donations. The relic donation to the Salernitan Dominicans is also omitted. This is noteworthy when we remember how William praised the hand-relic of Salerno in the last chapter of the Ystoria. Previously I suggested that William concentrated on the hand because the Order did not have the corpse. Now, at the time when the Orvietan manuscript was written, the Order had the corpse but the Orvietan convent did not have the relic. Thus, omitting the early memory of the relics can be explained by local factors, that is, the Orvietan Dominicans’ failure to obtain a relic of their own, although the escort with the relics stopped in Orvieto. Thomas’s relics remained for some days in the convent.181 Several other communities on the route of the translation, however, received a relic as a physical memory of Thomas. Despite the Orvietan Dominicans’ want of a relic, or perhaps precisely because of this, they prepared a new manuscript to honour the memory of Thomas’s corpse. This manuscript, Vat. lat. 10153, became a powerful symbol of Thomas’s body, possibly even creating a form of presence, as I have discussed above. Besides the legendary, some liturgical manuscripts that belonged to the friars have survived, including one with the office for Thomas’s dies natalis. The office is a beautiful copy from the year 1499. The illumination emphasizes once again Thomas’s important role for the western Church (see fig. 10).182 It is clear that Thomas had had a significant function in the devotional life of the city from the beginning of the fourteenth century onwards, and that he was venerated as a composer of the Corpus Christi liturgy among the people of Orvieto. I suggest that this tradition gave the opportunity for the friars to shape the Orvietan consciousness of Thomas successfully, even without a relic.183

181 Jean Mactei Caccia, Chronique, pp. 29-30. 182 Archivio del Duomo, Ms. 190, fol. 120r. For more information on this manuscript, see the previous chapter, on Roccasecca. 183 The topic is examined more extensively in my forthcoming article on Thomas’s cult in Orvieto.

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Italy, especially Southern Italy and Naples, was left to mourn the loss of Saint Thomas Aquinas’s corpse when it was moved to France. Historia translationis, for example, tells us that the Bishop of Gaeta made a generous offer to the Master of the Dominican Order in 1368, if Thomas’s remains would remain in the Dominican Convent of the City: the town would make offerings for Thomas’s cult and maintain a large congregation of friars and a master of theology with his baccalaureate at the Dominican Convent. The offer also included a valuable new reliquary for Thomas’s head to replace the old Cistercian one that was also used in Priverno.184 Clearly, the Southern Italians regarded Thomas as one of their own. Despite the petitions of the Bishop and people of Gaeta, Thomas’s corpse was transported to France. In some Italian towns, a bone-relic was left as a memory of Thomas’s presence, while in other places like Orvieto the presence was created without bodily objects. In Naples the disappointment of not possessing the corpse was huge, but the Neapolitans found other material mementoes like his cell to venerate, around which they could create cultic practices. As a conclusion regarding Thomas and the Dominican Order in Southern Italy, the cultic heart was becoming Naples, although Thomas also appears to have been successful in other towns where the Dominicans had permanent houses. William of Tocco, to my mind, had written Thomas’s legend from the Southern Italian viewpoint. This was hardly a surprise, as he was himself a Southern Italian. More surprising is that the Frenchman Bernard Gui consciously emphasized Thomas’s origins, more so than William, who tried to write his Ystoria with the wider European readership in mind. William added more local characters only in his last version of the Ystoria. I suggest that Bernard, who left Italy with a career as one of administrators of the Order, realized Thomas’s importance for the people of Southern Italy. He probably wrote his legend with the Capitol of the still young Province in mind. He offered the legend as a means of uniting the Province, which was not easy to govern. It encompassed two kingdoms, Naples and Sicily. Moreover, the friars and the royal house of Naples may have propagated Thomas’s presence in collaboration with the Neapolitan kings, as Thomas’s saintly status was also an important buttress of their kingship. The need to create unifying identities for politically divided Southern Italy may have inspired Bernard to write about the instrument in which Thomas had ordered his corpse to be moved to Naples. Nevertheless, if Bernard’s invention was difficult to handle in the Dominican hagiographical and liturgical tradition in general, it proved to be even more of a problem among 184 Historia translationis, p. 93.

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the Neapolitan Dominicans. They chose to turn their eyes away from the corpse and concentrate on Thomas’s lifetime legacy in Naples. There Thomas was strongly, even corporeally present through the relics of his ‘lifestyle’, for example, his former cell and his autographed texts. In addition, his presence was perhaps possible to perceive in the architectural structures of the city, inspired by his thoughts on state and good government.



Conclusion: The Endless Story

Thomas Aquinas’s corpse became the target of admiration and veneration—but also dispute—in Late Middle Ages. When Thomas died in Fossanova, his corpse did not find eternal rest and peace there. We have seen that this holds true of both the physical resting place, and the more abstract aspects of stability, such as the def inition, authentication, identif ication, and valuation of the body during the period when the casket with Thomas’s remains was moved inside and outside the Monastery of Fossanova several times, and the corpse was divided and distributed as relics to various places in Southern Italy. The transportation of the holy dust from Italy to France in 1369—and from the Cistercians to the Dominicans—ended almost a hundred years of dispute between Fossanova and the friars, as well as ending one episode in the history of Thomas Aquinas’s corpse. A description which was intended to stabilize Thomas’s material presence in its new home in the Dominican (Jacobin) Church of Toulouse crystallizes the idea of the mobility of Thomas’s dust. It was Raymundus Hugonis who described the sumptuous festivities that were organized to honour the arrival of Thomas’s corpse in 1369.1 The text shows that there was something very special happening in the City; in the reception committee were Duke Louis of Anjou, the brother of King Charles V of France, and a great number of nobles and ecclesiastics who carried relics of other saints. The author himself was present, and he claimed that there were some 150,000 religious and laypeople in Toulouse that day. There were many prelates, such as the archbishops of Toulouse and Narbonne, the bishops of Lavaur, Bezier, and Andorra, and the abbots of Saint Saturin and Symorra, all of them dressed in the vestments and regalia that marked their status. Many more prelates would have come had it not been for the widespread insecurity and destruction of the ongoing war in France; they wrote and regretted their absence. The Archbishop of Narbonne preached. There may have been 10,000 torches. Together with other noblemen, Duke Louis carried the baldachin that he had donated, constructed from three golden cloths patterned in the golden arms of the King, and the standards of Thomas’s family, the Pope, and the City of Toulouse. The Duke donated fifty golden francs, and promised to give one thousand more for a reliquary of Thomas’s head. Raymundus says 1 The year given in the text is 1368, but the writer follows the calendar in which the year changes at the beginning of March, not January.

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that the feast was so beautiful and solemn that nothing comparable had been seen during the last hundred years.2 After his arrival at Toulouse, Thomas and his body were again under reconsideration and redefinition. Indeed, the purpose of the laudatory text as well as the feast itself was to introduce the new saint to the people, and convince them of the newcomer’s sanctity and efficacy. In general, the intention of the Historia translationis genre was, as Patrick Geary has shown, to enable the hoped for assimilation between a new saint and his or her flock. Apparently the purpose of Historia translationis corporis sancti Thomae was just this; the Dominicans as well as the Church and the government of the city hoped that the people would accept Thomas as a Toulousan saint, a protector against heresy and a symbol of wisdom for the University. Thus Thomas received new identifications again, this time important to the people of Toulouse. As Thomas Aquinas’s post mortem story attests, the perception of the Saint’s identity is a complicated matter. The premise was that Thomas was one of the Aquino family, born in Roccasecca, in the Kingdom of Naples. On the threshold of his maturity, he had entered the Order of the Preachers in the convent of San Domenico Maggiore in Naples. He died in the Cistercian Monastery of Fossanova, not far from his home castle. In the chapters of this book, we have learned how various interested groups, whether his kin, the Dominicans, his spiritual brothers, or the Cistercians, his valuable companions during his last moments, wanted to identify with him. Identification with Thomas occurred both by cherishing his body and emphasizing that Thomas’s own wish had been to stay at Fossanova for ever, and through more conceptual means, such as those employed by the Dominicans, who claimed in their writings that Thomas had been reborn as one of the friars. We can grasp, however, that during the period addressed in this research one characteristic of Thomas remained unchanged, no matter who was defining Thomas: his South Italian status. There is no doubt that Thomas was South Italian; among other things, he was born there and he died there. Thus it is natural that his relic cult was also born and flourished in connection to his place of death and the place that conserved his remains. In Southern Italy, Saint Thomas seems to become particularly popular among the laity, both high nobility and the inhabitants of different villages. His cult spread in religious congregations, including local Dominican houses, Fossanova and its daughter-houses, and even Montecassino and its dependants. It is my contention that in the 2

Historia traslationis, pp. 115-116.

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first place, the reconstruction of Thomas’s land, Terra sancti Thomae, that is his cult area, and the different spots within the area as well as the places outside the cultic heart where he or his relics were venerated, is important to reveal the saint’s genuine significance. I detected the variety of Thomas’s saintly images related to his glorious bones by careful contextualizing. These images, as we have seen, served different purposes in varied forms. For example, the Cistercians of Fossanova connected Thomas corporeally and spiritually to the history of their Order, making him a special protector of the Monastery and an inhabitant of Heavenly Jerusalem in the Bernardine style. For the outside world, the monks built a reputation for themselves through Thomas’s sepulchre and body part relics, which performed a variety of tasks of pastoral counselling and welfare in the vicinity. For the Dominicans, Thomas was a brother and saint, and at the same time a holy corpse that they desired to possess but which was out of their reach. During this phase, the friars perceived Thomas’s body as miraculously uncorrupted, emitting a fragrant perfume, capable of miracles, and willing to be moved to the custody of the Preachers. The Dominicans, and the Southern Italian friars in particular, formulated Thomas’s image to enable the creation of unity and communal identity throughout the new Dominican Province, which encompassed a territory divided as the outcome of war. In Northern Italy Thomas may have been perceived more as a defender of the Holy Church: this, at least, is what surviving iconographical evidence such as The Triumph of St Thomas Aquinas suggests, a theme represented in Florence, Pisa, and Milan in the fourteenth century. The sources, however fragmentary, offer glimpses of Thomas’s extended family, who, it seems, did not hesitate to use the mundane dust of their relative to further their devotional and political interests, emphasizing Thomas’s image as an advocate or plaintiff of the kingship. Thomas was popular among the Southern Italian laity in general. Thomas the saint was able to answer the needs of the agricultural communities surrounding his tomb. In studying this interaction, it is possible to obtain a unique glimpse of the devotional life of the small villages around Fossanova, as Chapters II and III of the book attest. Further, and more importantly, the placing of Thomas’s relics or relic cults in their surroundings has given us a valuable insight into the relationship of medieval people with the material or imagined world around them. It is safe to say that the relics—their presence, and their tangibility—were important to everyone. At the end of the fourteenth century, by the translation act and the writing of the Historia translationis texts, Thomas’s South Italian identification was radically changed. The Historia translationis texts suggest that the

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campaign to naturalize Thomas in Toulouse and in France was carried out forcefully in the Late Middle Ages and the Early Modern period. At the same time, Thomas’s South Italian identity seems to have diminished. Along with the Historia translationis, which is a detailed justification of the city of Toulouse as the correct place for the location of Thomas’s corpse, the project had the energetic support of Pope Urban V. It was Urban who first ordered that Thomas’s corpse and head should be transported to Toulouse. Subsequently, he granted remarkable indulgences to pilgrims who visited Thomas’s tomb in the Dominican church of Toulouse, as did other high prelates of the French Church. These texts and acts contributed to the ways in which later generations perceived Thomas’s identity, not only in Italy or France, but throughout Europe. Thomas’s change in status from Italian to French saint reinforces one of my main arguments. The fluidity and diversity of the Saint’s image are among the most important of his aspects. They are particularly apparent in relation to the Saints’ relics. The extraordinary importance of the relics arises from several things, not least from their material presence among the people who venerated them and the saints they represented. The tangibility of the relics and the sepulchre made the saint in question more real and the growth of intimacy between him or her and the surrounding community easier than it would have been with purely abstract concepts of sainthood. Every community that had a relic in its custody perceived it differently. In the Middle Ages, every single body part was understood as a whole saint, but at the same time every piece of bone was perceived from its own context, creating, for example, different thaumaturgic or political images of the saint. The perception of wholeness is visible in cases in which the people prayed by Thomas’s relics. While praying they often received visions of Thomas, an imposing character of large size, with a face that radiated beauty, and wearing the Dominican habit. The devotees described their visions of Thomas in remarkably lively and similar ways. With the possible exception of the size, this was also a generic perception of Thomas as any Dominican saint. This may indicate that the superficial devotional image of Thomas was more or less the same whether presented through relic, picture, or text. Studying the activity in connection to the listed objects and readings can get below the canonical representation and reveal the diversity of the Saint. By close reading and ‘local reading’ of the sources on Thomas’s dust, we have learned that simple definitions of the character and functions of the canonized Thomas—for instance as ‘the scholar saint’—conceal many of his facets, among them the thaumaturge whose bones were an excellent cure of illnesses of the throat, or the highly regarded alleviator of gastronomic problems. Moreover, at the

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tomb, Thomas appeared as a saint willing and able to cure all kinds of illnesses. Scholars have constantly understated Thomas’s medieval significance as a saintly thaumaturge. For example, André Vauchez and Jean-Claude Schmitt proclaim Thomas as the scholar saint without making the connection with wider devotional culture.3 The examination of Thomas’s cultic images in the Southern Italian Dominican Province and the Kingdom of Naples, as well as in smaller contexts such as villages, castles, towns, monasteries, and their churches or chapels, makes it clear that the devotional culture permitted various interpretations and definitions of Thomas’s relics and his presence. The canonization did not truly create a single tradition out of many, although there was sufficient standardization to make my task of unearthing the layers of the Thomas cult difficult. Finally, we can say that there was only one Saint Thomas Aquinas for each of his devotees, but countless experiences of him and countless associations with him. The second important argument, which is related to the first of fluidity and diversity, is the efficiency of literature, liturgy, and devotional practices in moulding the perception of Thomas’s image and his tangible presence. The chapter on Thomas’s cult within the Dominican Order demonstrates extremely well the impetus and power of the liturgy and liturgical texts that were used to create Thomas’s presence corporeally, when the real corpse was not present and even a bodily relic was lacking. In Naples the liturgy changed the nature of Thomas’s presence by shifting the emphasis from his remains: the local Dominicans’ omission of the words apud Neapolim, referring to the corpse as belonging to the convent of the City, shifted their interest from Thomas’s dead body to the places associated with his life. These places represented the continuity of Thomas’s presence among the friars and they became highly respected relics in Naples. Another prominent example of the liturgy and its effective use to promote the required messages of sainthood is that which made Thomas a French saint after his transportation to Toulouse. As we remember, to celebrate Thomas’s arrival in Toulouse, the French Dominicans composed an antiphon for the translation feast: ‘Oh, how happy is mother Italy, having sent out the ray of a new sun, and equally happy has Gaul become, having acquired the mantle of this sun’. 4 As Constant Mews observes, the opening 3 Vauchez, 1989; Schmitt, 1984, p. 291. These opinions are still repeated, for example, in Dubreil-Arcin, 2011, p. 82. There seems to have been a similar tendency to categorize Thomas the Saint from a modern viewpoint in theological studies, the danger of which Mark D. Jordan discusses widely: Jordan, 2006. 4 ‘O quam felix mater Ytalia / Novi solis enixa radium / Eque felix effecta Gallia / Solis hujus adepta pallium’. For the information about the citation, see also the introduction of the book.

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antiphon for the vespers carefully balances the joy of France and Italy. Later a revised version of the same antiphon changes the phrase ‘equally happy’ to ‘O how rich’ (O quam dives).5 The new message of the antiphon appears to be that Italy was happy because it had created the new sun, but France, when it gained the corpse, became richer than Italy.6 It seems that losing the body pleased neither the Dominicans nor the laity of Italy: there are only a few remarks celebrating Thomas’s translation feast among the Italian Dominicans from the turn of the fourteenth and fifteenth century, their rarity suggesting that the transportation did not gain full acceptance there. Moreover, the Historia translationis claims that in 1368 there was anger in Florence towards the Dominicans who were carrying Thomas’s body away.7 Thomas’s translation from Italy to France and the memory of the event, however, cannot be explained simply in terms of French joy and prosperity or the disappointment of the Italians. Complex matters of European political and religious policy were at play. This theme needs more profound study in the future. In this book, I have concentrated on Italy and specifically on the area around Thomas’s tomb where the most popular and varying cult flourished from the end of the thirteenth to the late fourteenth century. However, the cult spread with and without the relics, especially within the Dominican Order, all around Christendom. The friars were keen to introduce the cult in local lay communities and they appear to have been relatively successful: in addition to Italy and France, it spread to Spain and Germany and made an impact in the universities and episcopal courts.8 The purpose of my book has not simply been to examine all aspects of Thomas’s cult, but to use the evidence of it to explore the comprehensive importance of a saint’s body in late medieval religious culture. Despite the capability of the liturgy to create Thomas’s presence, the material world seems to have been central to the perception of Thomas. The materiality which spoke of Thomas or could relay his presence made it possible to have both a tangible and a meditative connection to Thomas’s corpse. 5 Dreves 1889, p. 233: ‘O quam felix mater Italia / Novi solis enixa radium, / O quam dives effecta Gallia / Solis hujus adepta pallium’. See the translation and consideration by Constant Mews, 2016. Also Mews, 2009, pp. 241-245. 6 For similar uses (and phraseology) of liturgy in Saint Louis of Toulouse’s case when he was made the patron of Marseille, see Coulet, 1995, pp. 128-129. 7 Historia translationis, p. 113. 8 Piotr Tylus has studied Thomas’s popularity in lay medieval devotional life and argues for the relative popularity of an addition to Thomas’s Life in its French version of Legenda aurea, Légende dorée, of the fourteenth and the early fifteenth century. The argument is very interesting, as the common view among scholars addressing the hagiography is that Thomas was of minor significance as a saint in medieval lay culture: Tylus, 2007, pp. 221-224.

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The connective materiality had various forms, from the shrine-tomb and reliquaries to the places where he had lived. Yet Thomas’s saintly aura encompassed a wide area around Fossanova. The reconstruction of the sacred topography of Thomas’s presence reveals that even the Southern Italian architectural landscape could convey an experience of Thomas’s holy body, as several examples have attested, including those from Sonnino and other places close to Fossanova. Similarly, liturgical and other suitable objects related to the performance space of liturgy were efficiently used to refer to Thomas’s corporeal presence in devotional situations. These situations indicate a liturgical practice of remembering Thomas’s and Christ’s corpses together, and possibly also through the Eucharistic vessels or the Crucifix. Although the body could be perceived through different media, both it and the relics were in the primary position in the interaction between a saint and his or her devotees and their experience of the sacred. My use of Thomas’s cult to explicate contemporary saints’ cults in general might be criticized on the grounds that his case was atypical: in particular, the sometimes acrimonious discussion about the right resting place for the corpse and its rightful custodians surely affected and def ined the understanding of the centrality of the corpse. Did not this centrality arise from the dispute in which the Cistercians, Thomas’s extended mundane family, and the Dominicans, occasionally also popes and kings, took an active part? Even if we regarded Thomas’s corpse as a special case, it would not, however, alter the fact that the interest of late medieval people in the body grew. The need for a material presence of the saints—through their relics if possible—was a part of the late medieval (and Early Modern) reality.9 The Dominicans were forced to create alternative ways to experience Thomas’s presence, as they did not have the corpse. As Thomas’s body/ corpse is one central theme in the Dominican liturgy for his feast day of 7 March, and as the liturgy is a connective feature of the whole Order. For the friars, Thomas’s corpse was present in their choir through the liturgical reading and chants. I would argue that the presence, although not necessarily tangible, was still powerful and real through the liturgy and meditation, the experience reinforced by the use of careful staging and incenses, and probably by representative artefacts for the friars. The study of the devotional practices of the laity also attests to the corpse’s 9 For similar discussions in connection to the possession of the relics of the saint, see, for example, Saint Anthony of Padua’s case, Vita prima di s. Antonio o ‘Assidua’; Golinelli, 2000, 256-257; Rigon, 1995.

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centrality. Besides the miracle collections, lay interest in the relics can be identified in plays, sermons, and vernacular legends. The post mortem history of Thomas’s body shows us that the perception of saintly corpses was very much connected to the experience of their materiality—seeing, touching, smelling, tasting, and hearing them or their reliquaries. The perception of a corpse was possible not only through contact with the body parts and their tombs or reliquaries, but also through other representative media, tangible or intangible—reading, chanting, devotional practices, and allegorical representations. This perception could be no less powerful for the lack of a body part. Finally, the question of the perception of Thomas’s body reveals one very interesting aspect of the definition of the ‘corpse’ versus the ‘relic’. Such narratives as Historia translationis, when they mention the corpse (corpus S. Thome), transmit a picture of the entire body. Nevertheless, we know from other contemporary sources that the corpse in question was just a pile of bones: Guillelmus de Lordato, the Pope’s Vicar, counted fifty bones when he received the casket containing Thomas’s corpse in 1368.10 Later, when a small escort of Dominicans carried the casket with Thomas’s fifty bones from Fondi and Priverno towards the North and Toulouse, it was claimed that the friars had donated several relics to Dominican convents along the route.11 From Toulouse, the Dominicans sent bone relics to different points of the compass, to such places as Paris, Montpellier, Naples, and Aragon.12 Thus, the skeleton diminished in size considerably, but the coffin was still perceived as containing Thomas, and not a jumble of assorted relics.13 However, in other similar cases—and even on occasions when we can presume that most of the corpse or skeleton was intact—the sources speak about relics, not the corpse. The definition of ‘relic’ was a normal consequence of the recognized sanctity. A holy body changed to a glorious relic at a certain point of the recognition process.14 Enlightening examples are the cases of Saint Thomas of Cantilupe and Saint Birgitta of Sweden. Both saints’ bodies were probably boiled after their death to make the handling and transportation of their remains to their homes easier. In 10 Douais, 1903, pp. 65-75. 11 One relic to Bologna, another to Milan: see AGOP, Liber M, pp. 337, 361. 12 Masetti 1874, pp. 60-62. 13 For example, Jean Mactei Caccia, Chronique, 30: ‘Fuit per plures dies corpus sancti Thome in nostro Urbevetano conventu et portatum est Tholosam, et ibi, in tumulo sumptuoso, claret multis miraculis’. Historia translationis, 115: ‘Die Dominica, que fuit xxviij die ianuarii, sacrum corpus fuit positum circa auroram in parva capella prenominata del Feretra extra Tolosam’. 14 Boesch Gajano, 1999b, p. 260.

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both cases, after the boiling, the sources speak about ‘relics’ rather than a ‘corpse’.15 Interestingly, Thomas’s remains seem always to have been explicitly defined in the sources as a corpse, not relics, although they were surely understood as glorious bones, that is, the relics, and the corpse was claimed to have been boiled just like Thomas of Cantilupe’s and Birgitta’s. I think this is again one mark of the special importance of Thomas’s dust: the Dominicans desired it, and when they finally received the fifty bones of the corpse in 1368, the casket was symbolically pronounced as the whole body. The casket represented the fulfilment of something they had struggled to achieve for almost a century; in this sense at least, Thomas in his mundane entirety had finally come home.

15 Compendium vitae II, p. 35; Vita Birgittae III, p. 33.



Appendix 1: DE SANCTO Thome de Aquino

Transcription from the manuscript Vat. lat. 10153.1 33ra [Lectio prima] BEATUS Thomas de Aquino ordinis fratrum predicatorum doctor egregius de illustri prosapia comitum Aquinorum in confinibus Campanie & regni Sicilie originem claram duxit. Huius sancti ortus et vite progressus antequam ex utero nasceretur fuit divinitus premostratus. Erat enim vir quidam in Campanie partibus re bonus et nomine qui cum pluribus aliis anachoriticam vitam ducens opinione celebris habebatur. Hic spiritu Dei afflatus nuntiavit matri sue cum gaudio quod filium conceperat. Cum illa se fore gravidam ignoraret, dicens ei: ‘Gaude domina quia tu paries filium et Thomas vocabitur nomen eius. Hic erit magnus in toto orbe, in scientia et in vita, eritque frater ordinis predicatorum’. Que omnia sicut predixerat sunt completa. Lectio secunda Natus itaque puer nobilis Thomasque vocatus spreta seculi vanitate predicatorum ordinem est ingressus. Qui postea a fratribus carnalibus rapitur et quasi per biennium turris custodie mancipatur. Cumque nec minis nec blanditiis posset ab ordinis proposito revocari, per speciem puelle ad eum introducte sub virtute querunt animam innocentis; qui mox de ignetitionem arripiens suggestricem ignite libidinis extra cameram effugavit. Et sancto signo crucis in oratione humiliter se prosternens cum lacrimis a Deo sibi dari petiit perpetue continentie castitatem. Mirum in modum mox oranti duo angeli affuerunt dicentes ipsum a Deo fore clementius exauditum. Sed etiam ipsum (f. 33rb) circa renes stringentes hec dixerunt: ‘Ex parte Dei te cingimus cingulo castitatis quod nullatenus de cetero dissolvetur’. Cuius muneris fuit a Deo efficax gloria: ut ex tunc nullum penitus stimulum senserit venene voluptatis. 1 I have slightly modernized the orthography of the text. The use of the capital letters is according to the modern conventions. I have opened the abbreviations and used the letters v and u as in standard Latin. The punctuation is also generally done according to modern conventions.

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Lectio tertia Tandem cogitante provide matre sua quod deberet impleri in filio quod sibi fuerat divinitus premostratum ne videretur non tam iuvenis constantiam quam Dei providentiam inpugnare ipsa permittente per fratres ordinis ad ordinem est reductus. Restitutus itaque ordini, cepit non segniter studio intendere. Velud apis argumentosa spiritualia mella colligens ut suo tempore mellita effunderet eloquia doctrinarum. Tantoque gaudio in contemplando replebatur mens eius quod pluries dum in secreto loco ad orandum deum totum spiritum suum collegisset visus est stare totaliter elevatus a terra nullo prorsus innixus corporeo fulcimento. Felix doctor qui sic liber in Deum elevatione mentis conscendit quasi nullum pondus carnis sustineret. Lectio iiij Quotiens autem sanctus disputare, legere, scribere, vel dictare voluit, prius ad orationis secretum accessit. Et inde surgens sic inveniebat, quod scriberet vel dictaret quasi in libro aliquo didicisset. Nam ut socio suo fratri Raynaldo secreto revelavit et secretum quamdiu vixit servari voluit scientiam suam non tam humano ingenio et studio, quam orationis suffragio divinitus impetravit. Unde quasi alter Moyses merito dici potest, qui de aquis mundane vanitatis et proprie nativitatis eductus quia de Aquinorum nobilium progenie spectabili genitus miro modo (f. 33va) quasi per pharaonis filiam matri ecclesie redditur et uberibus ecclesiastice discipline ac luce divine sapientie enutritur. Hic est Moyses cui Deus dum mentaliter loquitur ad fratres suos mittitur et non sine signis et mirandis prodigiis ductor et doctor populi delegatur. Lectio v Hic doctor cum quadam nocte orationi insisteret sancti apostoli Petrus et Paulus ipsum de textu dubio scripture prophetice plenissime instruxerunt. O felix doctor cui divine scripture celi clavicularius aperuit hostium et ascensor celi Paulus mirabilis docuit in veritate secretum. O felix doctor hospes mundi et celi civis, qui cum celestibus civibus locuitur, dum adhuc peregrinatur in corpore. Altera quoque vice cum apud Neapolim in ecclesia devotius oraret, visus est sanctus pater a terra quasi duobus cubitis elevari. Super quo frater hoc videns diu admirans, subito audivit ab ymagine crucifixi, ad quam conversus doctor orabat, prolatam clarius istam vocem:

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‘Bene scripsisti de me Thoma. Quam ergo recipies pro tuo labore mercedem’. Et respondit Thomas: ‘Domine non aliam mercedem recipiam nisi te ipsum’. Lectio vj Et quia a domino facta fuit questio de mercede dabatur intelligi de propinquo labori suo fore terminum inponendum. Cum enim ex mandato domini pape Gregorii decimi iret ad concilium generale, transiens per Campaniam cepit languere ut pene perderet totaliter appetitum. Transiensque per monasterium (f. 33vb) Fosse nove cistersiensis ordinis invitatus devote ad predictum monasterium declinavit. Cepit autem de die in diem languor increscere nec tamen sanctus doctor a doctrina fluentis sapientie se poterat continere. Rogatus nempe a monacis exposuit eis cantica canticorum, ut ad canticum celestis glorie transiret studium ecclesiastice discipline. Accidit autem ut quaedam stella ad modum comete tribus diebus ante doctoris obitum super monasterium videretur. Que cum ignoraretur quid significaret cum apparuit, ostendit prefati doctoris obitum dum cessavit. Nam sancto Thoma deficiente, stella defecit. Lectio septima Fuit autem felix transitus eius anno domini millesimo duecentesimo septuagesimo quarto vite vero sue quintogesimo incoante. Tunc frater Raynaldus predicans tale perhibuit testimonium veritati: ‘Ego sancti istius frequenter et nunc confessionem eius generalem audivi, et cum sic semper purum inveni sicut puerum quinque annorum, quia numquam sue carnis sensit contagium nec habuit alicuius criminis mortali in voluntate consensum’. Non defuerunt autem signa miranda, quae sancti doctoris indicarent exitum et eterne felicitatis presignarent in ingressum. Nam frater devotus vidit in hora exitus sui sanctum doctorem in scolis legentem et beatum Paulum apostolum ad ipsum intrantem. A quo dum sanctus Thomas peteret, anime pluris suis verum habuisset intellectum, respondit sibi quod sic, quantum quis (f. 34ra) vivens in corpore potest habere. Et addit: ‘Volo ut venias mecum et ducam te ad locum in quo clariorem habebis de omnibus intellectum’. Videbaturque ipsum per capam extra scolam secum adducere. Tunc predictus frater fortiter cepit clamare dicens: ‘Succurrite fratres, succurrite, quia frater Thomas tollitur a nobis’. Ad cuius clamorem fratres excitati ab eodem fratre seriem visionis audientes, invenerunt, quod eadem hora quasi dicta visio facta fuit, sanctus doctor ex hac vita migravit.

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Et sic quem meruit habere scientie istructorem, dum ex hac vita transiret, habuit ad celestem gloriam conductorem. Lectio viij Post sepulturam sancti Thome timuerunt monaci ne sancti corpus ipsis invitis per fratres predicatores ab eis afferretur presertimque sanctus doctor mandaverat corpus suum ad fratres sui ordinis apud Neapolim congruo tempore deportari. Et quia sub deposito ibi fuerat commendatum sicut publicum docuit instrumentum. Post lapsum igitur temporis de nocte ad locum alium transtulerunt. Super quo prior dicti monasterii a sancto Thoma graviter reprehensus metuens divine ultionis iudicium, mandavit sacrum corpus in loco pristino collocari. Aperto itaque sepulcro tanta fragrantis odoris suavitas emanavit quod totum claustrum mira suavitate replevit, ut jam non videretur patuisse defuncti corporis sepultura sed multorum aromatum apotheca. Monstratoque doctoris corpore viderunt ipsum integrum in omnibus membris habitumque sui ordinis in capa vel scapulari et tunica penitus incorruptum (f. 34rb) et ex odore corporis odoriferi redolentem. Simile probatur evidenti testimonio mirum prodigium de integritate corporis et habitus suavique odoris fragrantia post septennium ab eius obitu contigisse. Lectio ix Multis mirisque prodigiis sanctum suum dominus decoravit. Si quidem suscitantur mortui, liberantur demoniaci, aliique diversis detenti langoribus optata beneficia receperunt meritis sancti sui. Nec est silentio transeundum quod cum devotus et religiosus vir frater Albertus de Brixia quadam vice ad altare beate virginis cum lacrimis oraret vigilanti in oratione apparuerunt due reverende persone splendore mirabili adornate. Una in pontificali habitu, alia in habitu ordinis predicatorum coronam habens in capite in auream textam lapidibus pretiosis. Habebatque circa collum duas aureolas quasi torques, unam argenteam et aliam auream. In pectore vero gestabat magnum lapidem qui splendore mirabili plures ex se emittens radios totam ecclesiam illustrabat. In capa qua vero inserti erant per totum lapides pretiosi. Tunica vero et scapulare candore niveo splendescebant. Que frater admirans audivit illum in pontificali habitu dicentem sibi: ‘Ego sum Augustinus missus ad te, ut indicarem tibi gloriam fratris Thome de Aquino, qui hic mecum est. Ipse enim mihi in gloria est equalis, secundum uirginitatis gloria me percellit, et ego ipsum in pontificali ordinis dignitate’.

Abbreviations AASS AFP AGOP Alia historia transationis Annales Archiginnasio ASV BAV BHL BLE BNCF BnF BNN BS BSB Catalogus sanctorum Chronica DBI De miraculis S. Thomae Ecclesiastica officia Fossanova Historia eccl. Historia translationis Instituta Legenda MEFRM MGH Miracula

Acta Sanctorum Archivum Fratrum Praedicatorum Archivio Generale dell’Ordine dei Predicatori Alia historia transationis corporis S. Thomae de Aquinatis Ptolemy of Lucca, Annales Bologna, Biblioteca comunale dell’Archiginnasio Archivio Segreto Vaticano Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina Bulletin de Literature Ecclésiastique Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze Bibliothèque nationale de France Biblioteca Nazionale di Napoli Bibliotheca sanctorum Die Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Petrus de Natalibus, Catalogus sanctorum et gestorum eorumque ex diversis voluminibus collectus La Cronaca di S. Domenico di Perugia Dizionario Biogafico degli Italiani Bernard Gui, De miraculis S. Thomae Les ecclesiastica officia cisterciens du XIIeme siècle. La Documentation Cistercienne Processus canonizationis S. Thomae, Fossanova Ptolemy of Lucca, Historia ecclesiastica nova Raymundus Hugonis, Historia translationis corporis S. Thomae de Aquino Instituta generalis capituli apud cistercium Bernard Gui, Legenda S. Thomae Aquinatis Les Mélanges de l’École Française de Rome – Moyen Âge Monumenta Germaniae Historica William of Tocco, Miracula S. Thomae Aquinatis

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Montecassino MOPH Neapoli OED PIMS Vitae fratrum Ystoria

Archivio di Montecassino Monumenta Ordinis fratrum Praedicatorum Historica Processus canonizationis S. Thomae, Neapoli Oxford English Dictionary Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies Gerard of Frachet O.P., Vitae fratrum ordinis praedicatorum William of Tocco, Ystoria sancti Thome de Aquino de Guillaume de Tocco

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Index Abbots 63, 77, 101, 106; see also Fossanova, Abbots of Of Saint Saturin and Symorra 259 Of Santo Spirito di Zannone 36 Abbruzzo 59, 62 Abel and Cain 48 Adelasia 126-127, 129 Adventus 84, 86 Alabaster 51 Albert the Great 52-54 Albertus de Brixia 52, 232 Alcoholics 166 Alcuin 55 Alexander III, Pope 181-182 Alexander of Lincoln, Bishop 34 Alfonso of Aragon 71 Altar panels 59-60, 95, 177-178, 180-185, 232 Altars 16-17, 28, 71-74, 77-79, 82-88, 90-91, 96, 98-100, 109-110, 130, 140, 146-148, 177, 179, 181-182, 187, 193-194, 196, 200, 212, 217, 225, 238, 252; see also Shrines Amaseno see San Lorenzo della Valle River 28 Amatus Bruni de Sonnino 166 Anagni 53, 168, 177, 179, 182, 184-185 Cathedral of 177, 180, 182-183 Chapter of 177, 179, 181-182 Cathedral Museum of 177-178, 182 Andreas de Iulgiano 166 Angels 41, 44, 55, 60, 103, 224, 226 Anjou 248 Royal house of 71, 170 Annibaldo da Ceccano, Cardinal 187 Anonymous writer of Alia historia 191-193, 197, 199 Anti-Thomism 47 Antiphonaries 220-221 Antiphons 13, 224, 226-229, 236, 263-264 Antoninus of Florence 87, 130, 216 Antonius de Brixia 52, 245 Apostles 61, 183, 211, 213, 235; see also Saints Apsis / apse 85, 87-91, 94, 102, 105-106, 117, 200 Aquila 59, 223-224 Aquino 12, 242 Counts of 12, 23, 56, 59, 67, 69, 173, 242, 260 Family Chapel of 23, 61-62, 65 Aragon 197, 224, 266 Arnolfo di Cambio 185 Aromatics 216 Aventine Hill 179 Averroism 48 Aversa 151 Avignon 45-48, 69, 93, 203, 209, 222, 247 Aymeric of Piacenza 220

Baldachins 91, 259 Banquets 69, 163, 189, 222, 247, 253 Barefoot 110, 156 Bartholomaeus Cambelle Marescalci 165-166 Bartholomaeus de Capua 30-32, 83, 120-124, 126, 243, 247-248 Bartholomaeus de Sompnino, presbyter 110 Bartholomaeus Petri Bennicasse 43, 162-166, 168 Bedrooms 17, 44, 129, 187-188, 193-195 Beguines 48, 213 Belcastro 12 Benedict XI, pope 121, 123, 208 The Life of Pope Benedict XI 210 Benedict of Nursia 34, 56 Bentius, Dominican friar 47, 209, 219-220, 225 Benvenuto dei Borghesini 220 Bernard of Clairvaux 34-35, 38, 77, 87-88, 95-96, 261 Bernard Qui 23-24, 34, 46, 49-51, 64, 67, 79-80, 167, 209-217, 222, 229, 231, 251, 254, 256 Bernardino of Siena 75, 100 Bible 34, 44 Birgitta of Sweden 124, 222, 266-267 Bishops 58, 77, 101, 182, 211, 232, 259 Blasius 80-81 Bologna 35, 59, 143, 220, 266 Boniface VIII, Pope 121, 123, 183-185, 200 Bonus, Hermit 174 Brescia 52, 59, 151 Breviaries 95, 98, 100-101, 191, 218, 220-221, 234-238, 240, 249-253 Bulls, papal 223 Clara ordinis 246 Cum inter nonnullos 213 Detestande feritatis 121, 124 Redemptionem misit see Thomas Aquinas, canonization Burials 64, 70, 72, 81, 84 Places of 35-37, 79, 106, 207 Caetani Chapel 177, 180-183 Family 162, 182-185, 187-188, 190, 192, 200 Panel 177, 180-183 Calabria 12, 101, 153 Calendars 97-98, 100, 218, 221-222, 235, 238, 251-252, 259 Campania 37, 101, 104, 135-136, 202 Candles 99, 110, 194, 219, 225 Canon law 10, 21, 75, 121, 129 Canonization processes 17, 20-22, 24, 30, 35, 41, 45, 48-49, 53, 84, 100, 157-158, 200; see also Thomas Aquinas, canonization Cantica canticorum 40

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Capellone de Crocifisso 248 Capua 12, 32, 58, 151, 247 Carcassonne 48 Carpineto 151 Casamari 164 Castro Iuliano 151 Catastrophes, natural 16, 113 Caterina de Morra 68 Caterina del Balzo 195, 201 Celestine V 75, 246 Charles of Anjou, King of Naples 70-71, 196 Charles II, King of Naples 49, 246 Charles V, King of France 259 Chioggia 214 Church Councils Lateran 189 Lyons 27, 29, 243 Trent 94 Churches Basilica of Saint Peter, Rome 180, 200, 240 Cathedral of Sermoneta 152 Cathedral of Sora 152 Dedications of 173, 179-180, 247 Saint John Lateran 201 Saint Mary, Avignon 219 San Benedetto in Priverno 145, 147-148, 152 San Francesco d’Assisi 50 San Nicola, Ceccano 152 San Pietro, Fondi 152 San Tommaso d’Aquino, Roccasecca 173-174 Sancta Sanctorum, Chapel of Lateran Palace 200 Sant’Angeli, Sermoneta (today San Michele Arcangelo) 152, 157 Santa Maria, Priverno 146 Santa Maria in Fulmine 152 Santa Maria in Piano 56-57, 65 Santa Maria Maggiore, Ninfa 200-201 Churches and monasteries, Benedictine Montecassino 13, 99, 252-253, 260 Santa Maria del Monte 35 Santissimi Severino e Sossio, Naples 252 Churches and monasteries, Cistercians Casamari 164 Cîteaux 36, 90, 186 Clairvaux 34-35, 77 Fossanova see Fossanova Pontigny 87, 126 Santa Maria delle Canne 155 Santa Maria di Corazzo 153 Santa Maria di Matina 101 Santo Spirito di Zannone (or Senona) 36-37, 96, 102, 153 Valviscolo 152-153, 164 Churches and Convents, Dominican 33, 95, 203, 207-208, 211, 218, 222, 224, 236, 244-245, 256, 260, 266 Aquila 58 Avignon 247

Bologna 220 Brescia 52, 59 Colmar 24, 240-241 Fondi 44, 199, 238-239 Gaeta 53, 208, 256 Orvieto 174, 221, 223, 237, 254-255, 266 Poissy 241 Priverno 141 Roccasecca 173 Salerno 58, 130, 171, 216 San Nicola, Bologna 35 Saint Catherine, Dissenhofen 221, 241 Saint Catherine, Nuremberg 25 San Domenico Maggiore, Naples 27, 49, 52, 54, 57, 68, 206-207, 223, 243, 245-251, 253, 260, 263 San Pietro Martire, Naples 130 Santa Caterina, Pisa 60, 94 Santa Maria Novella, Florence 50, 223 Santa Sabina, Rome 179-180 Siena 223 Toulouse 14, 124, 186, 200, 262 Vienna 47 Cistercian community 9-10, 12, 19-23, 27-33, 35-40, 52-53, 62-64, 68, 72-87, 89-90, 93, 95-98, 100-107, 115-116, 121-123, 125-126, 133, 135, 148, 153-155, 163-164, 168, 170, 186, 189-190, 192-195, 199, 203, 207-209, 215, 229, 231, 237, 240, 250, 259-261, 265 Chapter houses of 84, 98, 106 General Chapters of 89, 97-99 Spiritual life of 28, 95, 102 Clement VII, Pope 185 Cologne 52 Commemoration 54, 68, 80, 86-87, 100, 190, 224 Common of a Confessor, Mass and Office for 83, 88, 204, 219-220 Conrad of Marburg 65 Corporeality 17, 43, 56, 61 Corpus Christi 95, 163-164, 180, 221, 228, 235-238, 240, 248, 255 Crucifix 95, 227-228, 238-239, 248, 265 Crucifixion 69 Cycles of de tempore and de sanctis 237 Da Ceccano family 33, 68, 71, 142-143, 149, 187, 190, 192 Francesca, Thomas’s niece 32-33, 67-68, 70, 75, 80, 142, 190 Damasus, Pope 55 Dante Alighieri 70, 166 Death 9-11, 19, 23, 27, 29, 31-35, 38-44, 49-58, 60-64, 67, 69-74, 76-77, 83, 85-88, 90, 95, 103-104, 106, 120-122, 126, 137, 182, 193, 203, 207, 210-211, 215, 225, 227-230, 234-236, 240, 243-244, 253-254, 260, 266 Dies natalis 61, 100, 174, 222, 224, 228, 237, 241, 251, 255 Diseases see Illnesses

Index 

Dismemberments 121-126 Dissidents see Heretics Divine Office, also Service 35, 89, 96, 99, 106, 108, 133, 163-164, 180, 204, 218-226, 228, 230, 232-233, 235-237, 240, 252, 255 Dominican community, also Preachers 24-25, 27, 29-30, 32, 34, 37-41, 44-54, 56-59, 62, 64-69, 72-73, 75, 79-81, 85, 95, 98, 103-105, 113114, 119-121, 123, 130-131, 133, 135, 143, 145, 154, 157, 163, 166, 168, 171, 174, 186-188, 190-192, 194, 197, 199-200, 203-257, 259-261, 263-267 General Chapters of 9, 75, 95, 163, 204, 218, 220, 235, 243, 245, 250 Acts of 95, 163, 204, 220 Habits, also vestments of 43-44, 54, 58, 66-69, 162, 201, 206, 232, 239, 243, 262 Priors Provincial of 220, 224, 245 Provincia Regni 199, 246 Provincial Chapters of 10, 53, 205, 243, 245-246 Scriptoria of 18 Studium generale 243, 253, 271 Drinkers 167 Elevation 86, 146, 179, 211 Elias Raymundus of Toulouse 190, 200 Emilia 235 Ernici Mountain 135 Eucharist 40, 94-96, 99, 108-109, 163-165, 237, 239, 248, 265 Excommunication 187, 189, 201 Faces 41, 43-44, 59, 70, 162, 262 Feast days 12-13, 24-25, 37, 81, 83, 85, 91, 95-100, 102-103, 142, 149, 154, 164, 174-175, 179-180, 191, 195, 197, 204, 214, 217-226, 230-238, 240-242, 245, 249-254, 260, 263-265 Ferdinando del Castiglio 167, 196 Ferentino 29, 151 Filippo Minutolo 243 Finland 130, 218, 222, 225 Flagellation 172 Florence 69, 87, 130, 149, 222-223, 231, 241, 261, 264 Floria Nicolai de castro Sompnino 157-158, 161 Fondi 151-152, 179, 188, 192-193, 199, 201, 242, 266 Castle of 14, 44, 129, 186-187, 193 Count of 22, 36, 44, 78, 187-188, 190-191, 203; see also Honoratus I Caetani and Nicola I Caetani County of 184, 186 Fossanova, Cistercian monastery (also Abbey) of 9, 11-12, 14, 19, 21-22, 27-39, 43, 52-55, 58, 62-64, 67-68, 70-79, 81, 84-86, 90-91, 93-111, 113-117, 120-123, 126, 128-133, 135-140, 142-143, 145-148, 150-157, 159-162, 164-167, 169-170, 179-180, 186-193, 195, 199, 201-203, 208-209, 212, 215, 219, 228-229, 231-232, 234, 240, 245, 250, 254-255, 259-261, 265

303 And Abbot’s house 143, 145, 147 Abbots of 67, 108, 147, 155, 168-170, 208209, 215; see also Nicolaus, Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis, Theobaldus da Ceccano And recruitment 115-116, 138, 153, 155, 161 Apprentices of 106, 138, 153 Bell tower of 80, 110 Bells of 55, 110, 112, 118, 156 Gate of 67, 107-108, 126, 132, 146, 156-157 Guesthouse 107 Patrons of 32-33, 68, 72, 84, 190 Rood-screen 84, 108 Sacristy of 126-127, 132, 145, 148 Saint Stephen, Chapel of 73-74, 76-77, 79, 84-86, 100, 208, 210, 212 Fragmentation 120-121, 125-126 France 9, 15, 36, 45, 49, 120, 143, 198, 200, 203, 210, 241-242, 256, 259, 262, 264 Francesco d’Aquino 61, 71 Francis of Terracina 64 Franciscans, also Minors 29, 39, 46-49, 64, 100, 115-116, 251-252 Frosinone 151 Funerals 51, 62-67, 70-73, 81, 85, 104, 125, 155, 207, 212, 229 Furta sacra 75, 78, 191-192 Gaeta 20, 45, 151, 153, 208, 245-246, 256 Bishop of 256 Gaul 14, 263 Gerard of Frachet 243 Giacobella 195 Giacoma Orsini (also Giovanna) 186-187, 193-194 Gifts, votive, also Ex-voto 104, 110, 115, 117, 152, 158, 161, 166, 176, 201 Silver belt 116 Giovanna Aquila 184 Giovannella Del Borgo 61 Giovanni da Ceccano 182, 184; see also Da Ceccano family Giovanni Villani 70-71 Giuliano di Roma 151 Gluttons 166-167 Good Friday 105 Good government 32, 48, 257 Gospels 61, 159 Graduals 220 Grandmothers 157-159 Graves 9, 11, 13, 17, 22, 37, 50, 55, 67, 69, 72-74, 80-84, 86-94, 98-100, 102-111, 113-120, 125-128, 131-133, 135-136, 138-141, 144, 146, 150-154, 156-161, 166, 183, 193, 200, 202, 209-210, 212, 216, 224, 230, 245, 261-266 Great Western Schism 185, 195, 241 Gregory VII, Pope 184 Gregory X, Pope 27 Guala 59 Guillelmus de Lordato 120, 266

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Hagiographies 15-16, 18, 23-25, 27, 35, 40-42, 44, 52, 55, 58-59, 62, 76, 81, 96, 142, 204-206, 214-215, 221, 225, 233, 243, 256, 264 Henry II of England 181 Heresies 45, 49, 213-214, 260 Heretics 45-48, 214 Historiography 64, 120, 141, 215 Honoratus I Caetani, count of Fondi 22, 36, 129, 142, 185-196, 199-201, 203, 242 Ancestors 187, 189-190 Brother of 195 Honorius III, Pope 154 Humbert of Romans 234, 243

Jerusalem 34, 152 Heavenly 34-35, 38, 133, 232, 261 Jesus 34, 38, 54, 58, 67, 210, 228 Jewels 181, 232, 254 Jocelin of Furness 106 Joanna I, Queen of Naples 186, 188 Johannes de sancto Gimignano 231-232 John XXII, Pope 45, 49, 95, 179-180, 187, 194, 205, 208-210, 213, 247 John, Abbot 101 John of Naples (Regina) 114, 166, 223, 244-245 Jordanus of Saxony 59 Jubilee 37-38

Iacobus Capuanus 114 Iacobus de Fresolino 116-117 Iacobus de Piperno 114-115 Iacobus Martellutii de Piperno 127, 129 Iconography 10-11, 18, 27, 41, 58-59, 61, 94-95, 103, 183-184, 204-205, 225, 228, 232, 261 Illnesses Abscesses 166 Aches, also pains 113-114, 118, 128, 156, 167 Blindness 54, 112-113, 139 Broken bones 161, 166 Colic 119, 129 Dislocations 113 Deafness 54, 113 Dumbness 54, 113 Fever 117, 139, 162, 165, 167, 232 Haemorrhage 54, 157, 232 Hepatitis 165 Infections 126, 198 Muscle pains 113 Orchitis 166 Paralysis 96-97, 108-109, 112-116, 139 Scrofula 126, 198 Swelling, also dropsy, also gout 126-127, 161, 166-167 Tumours 110, 127, 139, 156 Imitatio Christi 96 Incarnation 164 Incenses 11, 63-64, 110, 230, 265 Incorruptibility 50, 88, 122, 131, 215, 236 Indulgences 209, 223, 262 Innocent II, Pope 28 Innocent III, Pope 90 Innocent V, Pope 75, 120-121, 208 Inquisitors 21, 30, 45-46, 145, 166, 210, 214 Iohannes Caiazzo 245 Iohannes de Florentino 63 Iohannes de Tixanderie, Bishop of Lodève 47 Iohannes Rubeus 165 Iulianessa 158-159 Iulianessa Iacobi 157, 160 Ivory 90, 99, 187, 193

King of Cyprus 245 Kingdom of Heaven 228, 233, 236

Jacobus de Guerra 182 Jean de Mailly 59

Landulfus de Aquino 242 Landulfus de Neapoli 114, 119 Landulfus Leonardi 158 Last Judgement 37-38, 61 Latinus de Malabranca 54-55, 113 Lauds, services of 96, 103, 230, 232-233 Lazio 29, 56, 104, 136, 142, 151, 153, 164, 173, 186, 202, 254 Lections, also lessons 12, 24, 37, 97-101, 180, 191, 197, 214-215, 220-222, 224, 226-242, 249-252, 254 Lea Pennazola 146 Legendaries 118, 180, 211, 214, 240, 251, 255 Leo 157-158 Leonardus de Gaeta 53-55, 58 Leonardus de Neapoli 166 Leonardus Palumbus 162 Leonardus Tacconi 187, 192-193 Life of Lutgard of Aywières 31, 37, 41-42, 44 Life of Saint Willibrord 55 Litanies 96, 204, 218 Loreto Aprutino 23, 56, 62, 71 Louis IV the Bavarian 187 Louis of Anjou 259 Louis of Taranto, King of Naples 188-189, 195-199 Lucca 149, 151 Maenza 27, 29, 31-33, 67-68, 70, 152, 163 Man of Sorrow 238 Manuel de Piperno 96-97, 113-115 Margarita de Piperno 126 Maria Egidii 166 Maria Landulphi 158-159 Marinus, Archbishop of Capua 58 Mary of Naples, Queen 246 Mass of the dead 83 Materiality 11, 16-17, 41, 43, 52, 61, 130, 140, 151, 165, 237, 239-240, 264-266 Matheus Iohannis Leonis de Piperno 107 Matins, services of 36, 99, 180, 191, 218, 221-222, 226, 228-229, 231, 233 Matthaeus, Archbishop of Salerno 58

Index 

Melrose Abbey 106 Mercato di Sanseverino see Sanseverino Milan 148, 261, 266 Miracles ante mortem 54 Missals 98-99, 220, 252 Monstrances 238-239 Montesangiovanni / Monte san Giovanni Campano see Sangiovanni in Campano Montpellier 48, 266 Naples 13, 17, 21-22, 25, 27, 29-30, 32, 34, 39, 42, 49, 53, 58, 62, 73, 82, 104, 114, 122, 130, 132, 151-152, 154, 164, 167-168, 188, 190, 197, 206-207, 209-210, 214, 223, 229, 242-246, 248-257, 263, 266 Kingdom of 12, 18, 31, 49, 70-71, 143, 169-171, 180, 199, 222, 242, 245, 247, 256, 260, 263 Royal family / house of 32, 71, 73, 198, 247, 256 University of 48, 243-244, 246 Nicholas Brunacci 246 Nicholas IV, Pope 170 Nicholas of Marsillac 245 Nicholutius Petri 157 Nicola Boccasini see Benedict XI Nicola I Caetani 185-186, 193 Nicolas 164 Nicolas Trivet 46 Nicolaus, Abbot of Fossanova 29-30, 39, 73-74, 76-81, 86, 103, 211 Nicolaus de Fréauville 46 Nicolaus de Fresolino 29-30, 73-74, 76-77 Nicolaus de Leone de Sompnino 156-157 Nicolaus de Piperno 29-30, 74, 79, 125 Nicolaus de Sectia 153 Nicolaus de Prato 46 Nicolaus Grassone 165-166 Nicosia 245 Nocturns, services of 99, 226-228 Nomina discipulorum Domini Jhesu Christi 210 Nudity 59, 61 Obedience, Roman 235 Octava, service of 179, 220, 223 Octavianus de Babuco 29-30, 73-74, 76-77, 111-112 Odour (good) see perfume Odour of sanctity 65, 69, 81, 106 Orders, Mendicant 25, 29, 124, 142, 252 Orvieto 13, 17, 163, 175, 223, 239, 242, 254-256 Cathedral of 174, 228 Padua 222 Pandulfus Savelli 179-180 Papacy 48-49, 84, 143 Holy / Papal See 143, 169, 182, 241 Papal Curia 21, 45, 121 Papal States 28, 70, 142, 149, 182, 185, 200, 246

305 Para-relics 151 Paradise 61 Paris 9, 13, 21, 47, 52, 75, 87, 206 University of 9, 121, 243-245, 266 Parish churches 59, 105, 147, 153, 173, 222 Pascal II, Pope 182 Pater noster 63 Patronage 49, 142 Paulus de Aquila 56-59, 229 Perfume 74, 80-83, 88, 109-110, 119, 126-127, 131-132, 172, 209, 212, 215-216, 230-231, 240, 253, 261 Perugia 100-101, 224 Peter III of Aragon, King 169, 196 Peter Olivi 48 Petitioners 110, 118-119, 130, 132, 139-141, 156-157, 159, 161, 166 Petruccia 132 Petrus Boccasius de Piperno 154 Petrus Branchatius 104 Petrus Calo 214 Petrus Craparius de Sermineto 165-166 Petrus de castro Montis Sancti-Iohannis 29-30, 39-40, 60, 62-63, 71, 74, 78-79, 82, 88-90, 111, 125-126, 145, 169-170 Petrus de Piperno 30, 126 Petrus de Fundis 111, 115-116 Petrus de Natalibus 193, 197, 204 Petrus de Tardo 22, 36, 90, 96, 103, 120, 186-190, 193, 195, 201-202 Petrus de Tarentasia see Innocent V Petrus Ferri, Bishop of Anagni 179 Petrus Francisci de Piperno 107, 113, 116, 167 Petrus Grassus 30, 107, 114, 117-118 Petrus Letus 108-109, 140 Philip, Canon 34-35 Philippus de Theate 143 Piazza Adriano 170 Pietro Cavallini 180, 185 And his style 180-181, 183 Pietro Coloberti 94 Pietro del Morrone see Celestine V Pilgrimage 34, 89, 93, 104, 106, 139, 152, 154, 223 Place / site of 11, 85, 104, 106, 147, 254 Pilgrims 89, 105-110, 112, 118, 129, 146-147, 152, 223, 250, 262 Piperno see Priverno Pisa 59, 261 Museo nazionale, San Matteo 94 Poverty 46, 49, 245 Praesentiae 10-11, 14, 16, 87, 135, 140, 230, 238 Prayers 40, 47, 64, 98-99, 108-110, 116, 135, 140-141, 163, 214, 219-220, 225-226, 228, 233, 235-236 Presbytery 87, 89, 96, 98, 106, 108-109, 146, 173, 239 Priverno 43, 110, 135-155, 161, 179, 187, 192, 196-197, 201, 256, 266 Cathedral of 146, 147, 150

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Lord of 187-189, 191 Prophesies 31, 37-38, 186, 205, 226 Prous Boneta 48 Ptolemy of Lucca 24, 32-33, 46, 57-58, 68, 80, 198, 205-206 Queens 196-197, 199, 218; see also Joanna I of Naples, Mary of Naples Raymundus Hugonis 14, 123, 131, 143, 176, 188, 190-191, 196-197, 238, 259 Raynaldus, Presbyter 177, 184 Raynaldus de Piperno 34, 54, 60, 137-138, 209-210, 240, 244 Raynaldus de sancti Laurentii de Valle 111-113, 115-116 Readings see lections Redemption 83, 133 Redolence see Perfume Refectory 52, 98, 102-103, 108 Reform, Gregorian 182 Reformation 14 Relics And their containers 76, 90, 99, 120, 127, 129-130, 148, 150, 193-194, 238, 259, 266-267; see also reliquaries Bones and other body parts 10-11, 14, 17-18, 73, 99, 117, 120-123, 125-133, 146, 148, 151, 156, 173, 216, 225, 230, 261-262, 265-266 Arms 98, 121, 126, 250 Hands 67, 98, 125, 127, 129-131, 168-172, 174, 199, 216, 230, 250-251, 255 Heads 14, 120-121, 123, 125-126, 128, 143-150, 152, 196, 200-201, 222, 256, 259, 262 Fingers 96, 120, 130, 173, 216 Legs 130 Thumbs 88, 125, 130, 216 Collections of 129, 148, 150, 171, 181 Donations of 133, 145, 255 Of Holy Cross 181 Of Cesarius 181 Of crosses of Peter and Andrew 181 Of Epimachus 181 Of Gordianus 181 Of Hippolitus 181 Of Julianus 181 Of Lawrence 181 Of Pancratius 181 Of Paternianus 181 Of Sebastian 181 Of Stephen 181 Of stones on which Christ stood 181 Of Victor 181 Portable 126, 132, 146 Representative / secondary 94, 128-129, 132, 140-141, 146, 253 Robberies / thefts; see also furta sacra 74-76, 78, 188-189, 191-192 Tesaurizzazione of 16

Reliquaries 16-17, 51, 91, 98-99, 117, 130, 133, 147-148, 230, 232, 254, 256, 259, 265-266; see also Relics and their containers Remigio de’ Girolami 12, 203, 245 Riccardus de Fundis 127 Rieti 151, 220 Robert of Naples, King 30, 48, 93, 149, 222, 246-247 Roccasecca 12, 151, 168, 173-174, 176, 205, 260 Castle of 174, 242 Roffredo III Caetani 184 Rome 13, 16, 32-33, 45, 104, 124, 135, 142, 151-152, 177, 179-180, 185, 200, 219, 231, 240-241 Rudolph of Faenza 35 Ruggero II, Count of Sanseverino 169-170, 172 Saints Alexius 235 Anthony of Padua 65, 76, 207, 265 Anthony the Hermit 102-103 As Patrons 17, 85-86, 100, 102, 136-137, 142, 149, 179, 182, 190, 201-202, 222-223, 251 Augustine of Hippo 232, 240 Aurelia 182 Catherine of Siena, Saint 15 Dominic, Saint 15, 35, 41, 44, 59-60, 76, 81, 83, 98, 100-101, 144 Life of Saint Dominic 59 Elizabeth of Hungary 65 Euphrasia 238 Francis of Assisi 15, 41, 49-50, 61, 100-101, 206, 222, 228 Iulius 235 Leonardus 235 Louis (King of France) 101, 123, 235 Louis of Toulouse 45-46, 48-50, 248, 264 Lutgard of Aywières 31, 41-43 Magno 179, 182 Michael 235 Neomisia 182 Nicholas of Tolentino 115, 117, 248 Paul, Apostle 55, 58, 200-201, 219 Perpetua and Felicitas, Saints 97, 100-101 Peter, Apostle 55, 58, 142, 181, 219 Peter Martyr, Saint 15, 44, 100-101, 176, 219, 224, 231, 235, 240 Peter of Anagni 177, 179, 182-184 Philippus and Iacobus 235 Secondina 179, 182 Stephen, Saint 85, 100, 183 Thomas Becket 87, 181-184 Salvation San Lorenzo della Valle 111, 151-152 Sangiovanni Campano 151, 176, 254 Sanseverino 128, 168, 170, 173 Castle of 127, 130, 168 Church / chapel of (Santa Maria a Castello) 171-173 Family of 170, 172, 174

307

Index 

Santiago de Compostela 152 Sarcophagus see Graves Savelli see also Pandulfus Savelli Family 179-180 Palace 179 Scala aurea 59 Scents see Perfume Segni 182 Senses 11, 109, 132, 230 Sepulchres see Graves Sermoneta 102, 135-136, 150-154, 164-167, 200 Sermons 64, 93, 165, 220, 223, 225, 231-232, 237, 245, 252, 266 Sermons on the Song of Songs 38 Sezze 135, 142, 150, 152-154, 187 Shrines 17, 90-93, 98, 106, 110, 115, 117-118, 133, 152, 188, 193-194, 265; see also Altars Sicilian Vespers 169, 172, 196, 199 Sicily 25, 169, 190 Aragonese royal house of 169, 199 Kingdom of 143, 169, 196, 199, 256 Siena 95, 223, 231 Skin 41-43, 130, 165, 216 Sonnino 135-136, 150-157, 159-162, 265 Counts of 158 Sophia Leonardi 158 Sora 151-152 Souls 42-44, 52-61, 105, 172, 228, 243 Speculum sanctorale 204, 210-212, 214 Spirituals 46, 48 Stabilitas 34-35 Stars 53-55, 57-58, 61, 98, 228 Stephania de Rocca 156-157 Stigmas 41, 228 Switzerland 25 Teano 151 Teodora, Countess of Sanseverino 25, 67-69, 125, 127, 129, 168-172, 199 Terracina 37, 150-153 Testament 36, 40, 68, 72, 190, 193, 200 Theobaldus da Ceccano 68, 77 Theodoricus de Appoldia 41 Thomas Aquinas Adelasia, sister of 184 Attributes 94 Belt of chastity 226 Birth 13, 174, 176, 205, 207, 224, 226, 242, 251 Birthplace 12, 174 Canonization 18-24, 29-32, 40, 43, 45-54, 62, 67-69, 73, 79, 81, 85-86, 93, 95, 97, 99, 104-105, 108, 113-120, 122-123, 125-126, 129, 136-141, 145-146, 149-150, 152, 154-157, 160-162, 164-168, 171, 176, 179, 183, 196, 198-199, 203-206, 208-209, 211-213, 215-216, 218-219, 222-223, 225, 229, 231, 244-248, 250, 252, 263 Articuli interrogatorii 20-21

Bull Redemptionem misit 45, 48, 131, 209, 217-218, 237, 241 Capture 207, 226 Childhood 176, 205, 224 Civic / patron saint 86, 136-137, 141, 143, 145-147, 149-150, 154, 161, 167, 176, 199, 201-202, 222, 251 Comet 55, 228 Confraternities Compagnia de’ Disciplinanti 223-224, 231 Entry into the Order 13, 206, 226, 251 Family of 9-10, 12-13, 27, 62, 65, 67-72, 75, 80, 168, 173, 176, 185, 196-199, 201-202, 205-206, 226, 243, 252, 259-261, 265; see also Aquino, Caetani, de Ceccano and Sanseverino families Genealogy of 195, 197 Levitation 227-228, 233 Maria, sister of 68, 172 Ox of Sicily 137, 242 Theodora, mother of 25, 174, 197, 205-206, 224, 226-227 Thomas with a chalice or monstrance 94-95, 99, 102, 165 Writings Adoro te 40 Summa contra gentiles 214, 245 Youth 9, 68, 124, 205-206, 209, 251 Thomas de Fuscis 53 Thomas de Marchia 127-128, 130 Thomas de Sulmona 143 Thomas of Cantilupe 35, 115, 117, 124, 266-267 Thomas of Cantimpré 31, 37, 41-42, 51, 60 Thomism 32 Throat 110, 126-129, 156, 167, 198, 199, 262 Tombs see Graves Tommasino 172 Tommaso II da Ceccano 187-188, 190, 192 Tommaso di Sanseverino 68-69, 131-132, 169-172 Toulouse 13, 17, 120, 143, 150, 176, 191, 199-200, 211, 237-238, 241-242, 250-251, 255, 260, 262-263, 266 Transitus 59-60, 212 Treasure 12, 77, 98, 133, 147, 172, 199-200, 233 Triumph of St Thomas Aquinas 261 Turku 130, 222 Urban IV, Pope 95, 163 Urban V, Pope 13, 124, 200-201, 262 Venice 197, 214 Ventura of Verona 35 Vespers, services of 13, 96, 103, 224-225, 264 Vessels 51, 98, 165, 239, 265 Via Pedemontana 151-154, 161 Virgin Mary 102, 164, 183, 224 Virgin Mary with child 103 Virtus 42

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Vision 17, 43-44, 49-61, 68, 72, 77-78, 108, 164-165, 194, 211, 229, 231, 233-234, 238-240, 253, 262, 271 Vita apostolica 47 Viterbo 13

William of Tocco 20, 23-24, 29, 33-35, 38, 40-45, 49-58, 62, 64, 67-69, 79-81, 104, 127, 155-157, 160-161, 164, 166-167, 172, 174, 198, 204-211, 214-217, 222, 226, 231, 237, 244, 246, 254-256 World War II 173

Waltheof, Abbot 84, 106 Wars 16, 113, 187-188

Ystoria de corpore Christi 237