The Jesuits, 1534-1921. Thomas J. Campbell

of getting ready for the course of philosophy which he proposed to follow at Alcalá. At this latter place, he had the happiness of meeting Laínez, Salmerón and Bobadilla, but he also made the acquaintance of the jails of the Inquisition, where he was held prisoner for forty-two days, on suspicion of heresy, besides being kept under surveillance, from November, 1526, till June of the year following. It happened, also, that as he was being dragged through the streets to jail, a brilliant cavalcade met the mob, and inquiries were made as to what it was all about, and who the prisoner was. The cavalier who put the question was one who was to be later a devoted follower of Ignatius; he was no less a personage than Francis Borgia. Six years after the establishment of the Society, Ignatius repaid Alcalá for its harsh treatment, by founding a famous college there, whose chairs were filled by such teachers as Vásquez and Suárez.

      Ignatius had no better luck at Salamanca. There he was not even allowed to study, but was kept in chains for three weeks while being examined as to his orthodoxy. But as with Alcalá, so with Salamanca. Later on he founded a college in that university also, and made it illustrious by giving it de Lugo, Suárez, Valencia, Maldonado, Ribera and a host of other distinguished teachers. Leaving Salamanca, Ignatius began his journey to Paris, travelling on foot, behind a little burro whose only burden were the books of the driver. It was mid-winter; war had been declared between France and Spain, and he had to beg for food on the way; but nothing could stop him, and he arrived at Paris safe and sound, in the beginning of February, 1528. In 1535 he received the degree of Master of Arts, after "the stony trial," as it was called, namely the most rigorous examination. For some time previously he had devoted himself to the study of theology, but ill health prevented him from presenting himself for the doctorate. He lived at the College of Ste Barbe where his room-mates were Peter Faber and Francis Xavier. Singularly enough and almost prophetic of the future, Calvin had studied at the same college. The names of Loyola and Calvin are cut on the walls of the building to-day. In 1533 Calvin, it is said, came back to induce the rector of the college, a Doctor Kopp, to embrace the new doctrines. He succeeded, and, before the whole university, Kopp declared himself a Calvinist. Calvin had prepared the way by having the city placarded with a blasphemous denunciation of the Blessed Eucharist. A popular uprising followed and Calvin fled. In reparation a solemn procession of reparation was organized on January 21, 1535. There is some doubt, however, about the authenticity of this story.

      Ignatius encountered trouble in France as he had in Spain. On one occasion he was sentenced to be flogged in presence of all the students; but the rector of the college, after examining the charge against him, publicly apologized. There was also a delation to the Inquisition, but when he demanded an immediate trial he was told that the indictment had been quashed. Previous to these humiliations and exculpations he had gathered around him a number of brilliant young men, all of whom have made their mark on history. They afford excellent material for an exhaustive study of the psychology of the Saints.

      Most conspicuous among them was Francis Xavier, who will ever be the wonder of history. With him were Laínez and Salmerón, soon to be the luminaries of the Council of Trent, the former of whom barely escaped being elevated to the chair of St. Peter, and then only by fleeing Rome. There was also Bobadilla, the future favorite of kings and princes and prelates, the idol of the armies of Austria, the tireless apostle who evangelised seventy-seven dioceses of Europe, but who unfortunately alienated Charles V from the Society by imprudently telling him what should have come from another source or in another way. There was Rodriguez who was to hold Portugal, Brazil and India in his hands, ecclesiastically; and Faber who was to precede Canisius in the salvation of Germany.

      Each one of these remarkable men differed in character from the rest. Bobadilla, Salmerón, Laínez and Xavier were Spaniards; but the blue-blooded and somewhat "haughty" Xavier must have been tempted to look with disdain on a man with a Jewish strain like Laínez. Salmerón was only a boy of about nineteen, but already marvelously learned; and Bobadilla was an impecunious professor whom Ignatius had helped to gain a livelihood in Paris, but whose ebulliency of temper was a continued source of anxiety; Rodriguez was a man of velleities rather than of action, and his ideas of asceticism were in conflict with those of Ignatius. The most docile of all was the Savoyard Peter Faber, who began life as a shepherd boy and was already far advanced in sanctity when he met St. Ignatius. In spite, however, of all this divergency of traits and antecedent environment, the wonderful personality of their leader exerted its undisputed sway over them all, not by a rigid uniformity of direction, but by an adaptation to the idiosyncrasies of each. His profound knowledge of their character, coupled as it was with an intense personal affection for them, was so effective that the proud aloofness of Xavier, the explosiveness of Bobadilla, the latent persistency of Laínez, the imaginativeness and hesitancy of Rodriguez, the enthusiasm of the boyish Salmerón, and the sweetness of Faber, all paid him the tribute of the sincerest attachment and an eagerness to follow his least suggestion. Rodriguez was the sole exception in the latter respect, but he failed only twice. Two other groups of young men had previously gathered around Ignatius, but, one by one, they deserted him. All of the last mentioned persevered, and became the foundation-stones of the Society of Jesus.

      On August 15, 1534, Ignatius led his companions to a little church on the hill of Montmartre, then a league outside the city, but now on the Rue Antoinette, below the present great basilica of the Sacred Heart. In its crypt which they apparently had all to themselves that morning, they pronounced their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. Faber, the only priest among them, said Mass and gave them communion. Such was the beginning of the new Order in the Church. A brass plate on the wall of the chapel proclaims it to be the "cradle of the Society of Jesus." It is almost startling to recall that while in the University of Paris, not only Ignatius but also Francis Xavier and Peter Faber, who were to be so prominent in the world in a short time, were in destitute circumstances. They had no money even to pay for their lodging, and they occupied a single room which had been given them, out of charity, in one of the towers of Ste Barbe. It was providential, however, for in the same college, but paying his way, was a former schoolmate of Faber and like him a native of Savoy. This was Claude Le Jay, or Jay, as he is sometimes called. Of course he had noticed Ignatius and the group of brilliant young Spaniards, but he had little or nothing to do with them until once, when Ignatius was absent in Spain, Faber let him into the secret of their great plan of converting the Turks. The result was that when next year the associates went out to Montmartre to renew their vows, Le Jay was with them as were also two other university men: Jean Codure from Dauphiné and the Picard, Pasquier Brouet, who was already a priest.

      It had been arranged that in 1536 when their courses of study were finished and their degrees and certificates secured, they were to meet at Venice to embark for the Holy Land. They were to make the journey to Venice on foot. They set out, therefore, in two bands, a priest with each, taking the route that passed by Meaux and then through Lorraine, across Switzerland to Venice. It was a daring journey of fifty-two days in the dead of winter, over mountain passes, without money to pay their way or to purchase food; with poor and insufficient clothing, across countries filled with soldiers preparing for war, or angry fanatics who scoffed at the rosaries around their necks, and who might have ill-treated them or put them to death; they bore it all, however, not only patiently but light-heartedly, and on January 6, 1537, arrived in Venice, where Ignatius was waiting for them. To them was added a new member of the association, Diego Hozes, who had known Ignatius at Alcalá and now came to him at Venice.

      After a brief rest, which they took by waiting on the poor and sick in the worst hospital of the city, they were told to go down to Rome to ask the Pope's permission to carry out their plans. This journey was not as long or as dangerous as the one they had just made, but the bad weather, the long fasts, the sickness of some of them, the rebuffs and abusive language which they received when they asked for alms, made it hard enough for flesh and blood to bear; however their devotion to the end they had in view, or what the world might call their Quixotic enthusiasm bore them onward. They were apprehensive, however, about their reception in Rome, not it is true, from the Father of the Faithful himself, but from a certain great Spanish canonist, a Doctor Ortiz, who happened to be just then at the papal court, making an appeal to the Sovereign Pontiff in behalf of Catherine of Aragon against Henry VIII.

      Ortiz had met Ignatius in Paris and was bitterly prejudiced against him. That, indeed, was the reason why the little band appeared in the Holy City without their leader, but neither he