Quam sine fictione didici, et sine invidia communico, et honestatem illius non abscondo; infinitus enim thesaurus est hominibus.—’ The lessons she taught me are lessons honestly won, shared without stint, openly proclaimed; a treasure men will find inexhaustible ‘(Wis. vii).
At any time during the early years of this century, if you consulted Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, and turned up the reference under ‘Angelic Doctor,’ you would read this : ‘Angelic Doctor, The, Thomas of Aquino, so called because he discussed how many angels could dance on the point of a pin.’ Whether, in fact, any schoolmen did devote attention to this rather specialised subject, I have often tried to discover, but have never managed to trace the legend further back than Tristram Shandy, where I strongly suspect that it originated. I only use that quotation here to draw your attention to a singular fact; namely that in the last twenty-five years or so the great saint whom we commemorate to-day has, in a way, come into his own—even in these days of loose thought, and of unlaborious reading. To-day, even Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable has been, corrected, and wherever you meet a man who professes interest in things of the mind, you will find that St. Thomas means something to him. Possibly he will use the name ‘Aquinas,’ to indicate that this is not an author with whom he is on friendly terms; almost certainly he will admit that he has never tried to read ‘Aquinas.’ But there will be respect in his voice; he will know that he is referring, not to a medieval quibbler, but to an author whose works are one of the milestones in the history of human thought.