At the age of five, S. Thomas was sent to Monte Cassino, his parents hoping, in spite of the prophecy, if the prophecy had ever been really uttered, that he would eventually join the order, and become master of those vast possessions which were under the dominion of its abbots. The monastery in the early days of S. Thomas was the most distinguished school of letters in the land. The little child was doubtless dedicated to God, as others were; he was brought into the sanctuary in the arms of his parents, he spoke by their mouth, as at the font, he put out his tiny hand for the sacred corporal to be wrapped round it, and thus vowed himself to God. The education of the child was committed to a large-hearted and God-fearing man, whose chief object was to fill his soul with God. As a result of this training it came to pass that S. Thomas's constant question to his teachers was, "What is God?" Doubtless, they answered him in the apostle's words, "God is love." The personal appearance of the young S. Thomas indicated the presence of a governing spirit; not the command of brute force, but the command of intellect. He possessed that rare class of spiritual beauty which tells of gentleness, purity, and power. His massive head betokened strength; his broad tranquil brow, his meditative eyes, produced the impression, not so much of quickness and vivacity, as of breadth and command. He seemed to live in a sort of spiritual light,--as the sunbeam striking upon a landscape naturally beautiful invests it with a kind of transfiguration. Though he seldom spoke, when he did speak, he set hearts beating faster; and often, whilst thus conversing with his companions, the monks would approach the little gathering by stealth, to listen to the precocious wisdom of this extraordinary child. After seven years quiet study, S. Thomas was forced to take refuge with his family from the violence of the imperial soldiers, who had sacked the abbey, and made a prey of all its wealth in plate and gems, the legacies of emperors, kings, and knights. The change to the feudal castle of Loreto must have been a violent one for the young saint. The tramp of armed men, the free carousing, the shouts and songs of mirth, must have been sources of temptation to a boy of twelve, whose life had hitherto been passed in the silence of the cloister, or amid the sacred songs of the monks, but the holy impressions already made on his soul shielded it from corruption.