Text: C. F. Briggs (?), Literary, Broadway Journal (New York), January 25, 1845, vol. 1, no. 4, p. ??

[page 52, continued:]

ST. IGNATIUS AND HIS FIRST COMPANIONS. By the Rev. Charles Constantine Pise, D.D. Edward Dunigan, 151 Fulton street, 1545.

AMONG the nine first companions of Ignatius, four preceded him to the tomb, namely, Peter Faber, St. Francis Xavier, Claudius Jaius, and John Cordurius. The lives of these are given to the conclusion; of the others, James Layner,

Alphonsus Salmeron, Nicholas Bobadilla, Simon Rodriguez, and Paschasius Broetus, the author has only given their lives down to the time when their chief was taken from them. “The principal object I had in view,” says the author, “in not carrying out their history after the death of St. Ignatius, was, to exhibit the spirit which he, in person, diffused throughout the body, and thereby confute, by evidence, the vain calumny, that he was a fanatic, and his first disciples were intriguers and impostors.”

The author manifests an unbecoming fear of the term “fanatic”: it is only another word for earnestness. His patron would never have become a saint, if he had not first been a fanatic. We protestants are so much used to speak of Ignatius Loyala in no very devout terms, that perhaps some will be a little startled to hear him spoken of as Saint Ignatius; but Dr. Pise is, himself, of the order which Loyala founded: he was educated by its brethren. His work is, of course, the labor of a loving and reverent heart, and will commend itself by its sincerity even to those who may differ with its author about the merits of his patron.

As an example of the style in which the work is written, we give the following extract from the chapter on Saint Ignatius: —

“Wearied and much agitated from a strange and recent apparition, a noble looking cavalier, robed in the plain guise of a pilgrim, sat down to repose him on the banks of a gentle stream, not far from the village of Manreza. The deep shadows were now falling from the neighboring hills: over the brow of Mount Serat, the dusk of the evening seemed already wreathing its sombre twilight, the waters of the lonely river rippled beneath the breath of the solitude's breeze. There, in profound contemplation, with his dark-gray eyes fixed intently upon the river, sat that wondrous stranger. His elegant mien, his broad, high forehead, his aquiline nose, his beautiful yet manly features, bespoke the high rank to which he belonged, and the magnanimous character with which he was adorned. He had recently fought, at the head of a chivalrous army, for the liberties of Spain, and had been wounded in her glorious cause, on the walls of Pampeluna. He had been confined to his bed, suffering intense pain from the extraction of the ball which had entered his leg, and the amputation of a bone which protruded from the wound. During this period of lingering and solitary illness, he had sought to relieve his tedium, and engage his mind with reading. No works of fancy or books of chivalry being within his reach, he had recourse to a volume of the Lives of the Saints, in which he beheld depicted, for the imitation of great souls, their heroic virtues, and sublime sanctity. The transition, in such a mind as his, from one species of chivalry to another, was very easy and natural; he had been trained up to that of arms and martial enthusiasm; he could without difficulty, appreciate that of peace and religious glory. As he read on, his heart opened as it were, to the divine influences of Christian heroism; his soul insensibly began to glow with an ardour more ennobling than he had before experienced; a desire to emulate the splendid moral achievements of the examples before him, an irresisitible admiration of their victories over themselves and their triumphs over the world, urged forward his generous ambition; and the grace of God co-operating, meanwhile, with his natural dispositions, he determined to change the standard of war for the ensign of the cross. He had laid aside from his towering person the in-sigma of knight, and taken upon himself those of an humble penitent, making a pilgrimage from shrine to shrine. Over the altar of the ever-blessed Virgin he had hung the sword which was still gleaming [column 2:] with the lustre of valour — a bright, a splendid trophy of the grace of God. For that brave spirit that knew not how to cower before the terrors of the cannon, was stricken down in profound subjection — not to any human power — and lain prostrate, by the “violence” of the love of God. Sweet violence, indeed, that gives no pain but contrition, and demands no subjection but a calm submission to the will of Heaven. Violence which, it is true, storms the citadel of the heart, but renders it, at the same time, a voluntary captive: which sometimes achieves its object by forcing the deep and silent tear from the fountains of some Magdalen's soul, and, at other times, by casting down headlong — blind and terror-stricken — on the sward, some Saul of Tarsus. That extraordinary personage, meditating, at this twilight hour, on the banks of the Rubricato, is the immortal founder of the Society of Jesus — Ignatius of Loyola.

“Between the epoch of the birth of this defender of the ancient faith, and that of Martin Luther, its pest and scourge, a space of nine years occurred: the former having been born in 1491, the latter in 1482. God, whose providence could but prepare a barrier against the calamities which he foresaw were about to desolate his Church, raised up Ignatius, as a host in the company which he was destined to establish, for her defence and edification. Guipuzcoa, a province in Cantabria, was the place of his nativity. His family was noble and renowned. His father and mother were both of illustrious origin. His youthful disposition tended to the study and the teats of arms: and, having, at a maturer age, embraced the military profession, he won the applause of his country and reaped no little glory on the field. This soldier-like character he impressed on the company which he instituted. It appears in the celerity of obedience on the part of its members, in the enduring of labour, and the missionary exercises — all modeled on the exemplar of the camp. His soul, from early childhood, burned with inextinguishable ardour for renown, and human praise: which natural impetuosity, changed and chastened under holier influences, he carried with him into the ranks of religion, and infused into the breasts of his disciples. He was distinguished by grace, ease, and majesty of manners, and a singular love of elegance of dress; which qualities he afterwards hallowed, and transferred to sacred things, and made auxiliary to the discipline and spirit of his order. He possessed a sublime magnanimity in pardoning an offence, as well as in conferring a favour: an innate detestation of avarice, and — the germ of all vices — cupidity. He exhibited a lofty daring in dangerous and difficult exertions; a singular prudence in the transaction of business, and an unwearied and patient perseverance and constancy of character. In the flower of youth he displayed the maturity of age; and in the first impulse of his conversion was raised, on a sudden, to the highest grade of perfection.

“Hence the sublime ascetic character of his book of ‘Spiritual Exercises,’ written so soon after his retreat to Mount Serat, and his austere and penitential musings at Maureza. Hence his marvellous ecstasy, in which, wrapt in the contemplation of heavenly things, during eight days, he seemed dead to those of earth. And hence, too, that solemn vow of chastity by which he devoted himself forever to the service of God, ‘following the Lamb whithersoever he went.’ This perfection displayed itself in all his actions. Whether we trace him to the isle of Cyprus, on his pilgrimage to the Holy Land; whether we view him, entering — an humble palmer — upon the consecrated soil of Palestine, prostrate, in tears, at the tomb of Christ partaking of the Redeemer's agony on the mount of Olives; whether we behold him favoured with celestial visions, or wrecked on the shoals near the coast of Cyprus, or, on his return to Europe, seized upon and contumaciously treated as a spy in France; — under all circumstances, and in every condition, there was a grandeur of soul, a sanctity of motive, and an enthusiasm of virtue, which stamped him, at once, with that transcendant [[transcendent]] character, which was wonderfully developed in the course of his subsequent career.

“The ‘Company’ he established, was destined to labour for the salvation of men, and to propagate the greater glory of Jesus Christ. Hence the motive for his styling it the ‘Society of Jesus:’ deriving its name from him, who is the only true salvatien of the human race, and who promised to be ‘propitious to him at Rome.’ ”

It is among the handsomest specimens of printing that we have seen from the New York press; but the frontispiece of portraits is altogether unworthy, in point of execution, to rank with the other parts of the book.

[The following footnote appears at the bottom of page 52, column 1:]

* The singular vision here alluded to is thus described by Ortandinus, in his History of the Society of Jesus: “A very comely image appeared to him in the air, the figure of which he could not clearly discern. It was lengthy, like the form of a serpent, bright, and of various hues, and glittering with many eyes, like stars which, while it appeared rendered him happy, and when It vanished left him sorrowful.” Lib. i. 22, p. 7. The conversion of Ignatius happened In 1621. He was in his thirty-first year.