The Jesuits, 1534-1921. Thomas J. Campbell

He was fond of the world, its vanities, its amusements and its pleasures, and though there is nothing to show that there was ever any serious violation of the moral law in his conduct, neither was he the extraordinarily pious youth such as he is represented in the fantastic stories of Nieremberg, Nolarci, García, Henao and others. After the fashion of the hagiographers of the seventeenth century and later, they describe him as a sort of Aloysius who, under the tutelage of Doña María de Guevara, visited the sick in the hospitals, regarding them as the images of Christ, nursing them with tenderest charity, and so on. All that is pure imagination and an unwise attempt to make a saint of him before the time.

      Indeed, very little about the early life of Ignatius is known, except that when he was about twenty-six he gained some military distinction in an attack on the little town of Najara. Of course, he was conspicuous in the fight at Pampeluna, but whether he was in command of the fortress or had been merely sent to its rescue to hold it until the arrival of the Viceroy is a matter of conjecture. At all events, even after the inhabitants had agreed to surrender the town, he determined to continue the fight. He first made his confession to a fellow-knight, for there was no priest at hand, and then began what was, at best, a hopeless struggle. The enemy soon made a breach in the walls and while rallying his followers to repel the assault he was struck by a cannon-ball which shattered one leg and tore the flesh from the other. That ended the siege, and the flag of the citadel was hauled down. Admiring his courage, the French tenderly carried him to Loyola, where for some time his life was despaired of. The crisis came on the feast of St. Peter, to whom he had always a special devotion. From that day, he began to grow better. Loyalty to the Chair of Peter is one of the distinguishing traits of the Compañía which he founded.

      It is almost amusing to find these shattered limbs of Ignatius figuring in the diatribes of the elder Arnauld against the Society, sixty or seventy years after the siege. "The enmity of the Jesuits for France," he said, "is to be traced to the fact that Loyola took an oath on that occasion, as Hannibal did against Rome, to make France pay for his broken legs." An English Protestant prelate also bemoaned "the ravages that had been caused by the fanaticism of that lame soldier." Other examples might be cited. To beguile the tediousness of his convalescence, Ignatius asked for the romance "Amadis de Gaul," a favorite book with the young cavaliers of the period; but he had to content himself with the "Life of Christ" and "The Flowers of the Saints." These, however, proved to be of greater service than the story of the mythical Amadis; for the reading ended in a resolution which exerted a mighty influence in the history of humanity. Ignatius had made up his mind to do something for God. The "Life of Christ" which he read, appears to have been that of Ludolph of Saxony in which the name "Jesuit" occurs. It had been translated into Spanish and published at Alcalá as early as 1502. Thus, a book from the land of Martin Luther helped to make Ignatius Loyola a saint.

      When sufficiently restored to health he set out for the sanctuary of Montserrat where there is a Madonna whose thousandth anniversary was celebrated a few years ago. It is placed over the main altar of the church of a Benedictine monastery, which stands three thousand feet above the dark gorge, through which the river Llobregat rushes head-long to the Mediterranean. You can get a glimpse of the blue expanse of the sea in the distance, from the monastery windows. Before this statue, Ignatius kept his romantic Vigil of Arms, like the warriors of old on the eve of their knighthood; for he was about to enter upon a spiritual warfare for the King of Kings. He remained in prayer at the shrine all night long, not however in the apparel of a cavalier but in the common coarse garb of a poverty-stricken pilgrim. From there he betook himself to the little town of Manresa, about three miles to the north, on the outskirts of which is the famous cave where he wrote the "Spiritual Exercises." It is in the face of the rock, so low that you can touch the roof with your hand, and so narrow that there is room for only a little altar at one end. Possibly it had once been the repair of wild beasts. It is a mistake, however, to imagine that he passed all his time there. He lived either in the hospital or in the house of some friend, and resorted to the cave to meditate and do penance for his past sins. At present it is incorporated in a vast edifice which the Spanish Jesuits have built above and around it.

      Perhaps no book has ever been written that has evoked more ridiculous commentaries on its contents and its purpose than this very diminutive volume known as "The Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius." Its very simplicity excites suspicion; its apparent jejuneness suggest all sorts of mysterious and malignant designs. Yet, as a matter of fact, it is nothing but a guide to Christian piety and devotion. It begins with the consideration of the great fundamental truths of religion, such as our duty to God, the hideousness and heinousness of sin, hell, death, and judgment on which the exercitant is expected to meditate before asking himself if it is wise for a reasonable creature who must soon die to continue in rebellion against the Almighty. No recourse is had to rhetoric or oratory by those who direct others in these "Exercises," not even such as would be employed in the pulpit by the ordinary parish preacher. It is merely a matter of a man having a heart to heart talk with himself. If he makes up his mind to avoid mortal sin in the future, but to do no more, then his retreat is over as far as he is concerned. But to have even reached that point is to have accomplished much.

      There are, however, in the world a great many people who desire something more than the mere avoidance of mortal sin. To them the "Exercises" propose over and above the fundamental truths just mentioned the study of the life of Christ as outlined in the Gospels. This outline is not filled in by the director of the retreat, at least to any great extent. That is left to the exercitant; for the word exercise implies personal action. Hence he is told to ask himself: "Who is Christ? Why does He do this? Why does He avoid that? What do His commands and example suppose or suggest?" In other words, he is made to do some deep personal thinking, perhaps for the first time in his life, at least on such serious subjects. Inevitably his thoughts will be introspective and he will inquire why the patience, the humility, the meekness, the obedience and other virtues, which are so vivid in the personality of the Ideal Man, are so weak or perhaps non-existent in his own soul. This scrutiny of the conscience, which is nothing but self-knowledge, is one of the principal exercises, for it helps us to discover what perhaps never before struck us, namely that down deep in our natures there are tendencies, inclinations, likes, dislikes, affections, passions which most commonly are the controlling and deciding forces of nearly all of our acts; and that some of these tendencies or inclinations help, while others hinder, growth in virtue. Those that do not help, but on the contrary impede or prevent, our spiritual progress are called by St. Ignatius inordinate affections, that is tendencies, which are out of order, which do not go straight for the completeness and perfection of a man's character, but on the contrary, lead in the opposite direction. The well-balanced mind will fight against such tendencies, so as to be able to form its judgments and decide on its course of action both in the major and minor things of life without being moved by the pressure or strain or weight of the passions. It will look at facts in the cold light of reason and revealed truth, and will then bend every energy to carry out its purpose of spiritual advancement.

      Such is not the view of those who write about the "Exercises" without knowledge or who are carried away by prejudice, an exalted imagination, an overwhelming conceit or religious bias or perhaps because of a refusal to recognize the existence of any spiritual element in humanity. It is difficult to persuade such men that there are no "mysterious devices" resorted to in the Exercises; no "subterraneous caverns," no "orgies," no "emerging livid and haggard from the struggle," no "illuminism," no "monoideism" as William James in his cryptic English describes them; no "phantasmagoria or illusions;" no "plotting of assassinations" as the Parliament of Paris pretended to think when examining Jean Chastel, who had attempted the life of Henry IV; no "Mahommedanism" as Müller fancies in his "Origins of the Society of Jesus," nothing but a calm and quiet study of one's self, which even pagan philosophers and modern poets assure us is the best kind of worldly occupation.

      Even if some writers insist that "their excellence is very much exaggerated," that they are "dull and ordinary and not the dazzling masterpieces they are thought to be," or are "a Japanese culture of counterfeited dwarf trees," as Huysmans in his "En Route" describes them; yet on the other hand they have been praised without stint by such competent judges as Saints Philip Neri, Charles Borromeo, Francis de Sales, Alphonsus Liguori, Leonard of Port Maurice, and by Popes Paul III, Alexander VII, Clement XIII, Pius IX and Leo XIII. Camus, the friend of St. Francis of Sales, thought "they were of pure gold; more