<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></SPAN>CHAPTER I</h2>
<p class="chapterHead">HIS MILITARY LIFE—HE IS WOUNDED AT THE SIEGE OF PAMPELUNA—HIS
CURE—SPIRITUAL READING—THE APPARITION—THE GIFT OF CHASTITY—HIS
LONGING FOR THE JOURNEY TO JERUSALEM AND FOR A HOLIER LIFE</p>
<p><span class="sc">Up</span> to his twenty-sixth year the heart of Ignatius was enthralled by
the vanities of the world. His special delight was in the military
life, and he seemed led by a strong and empty desire of gaining for
himself a great name. The citadel of Pampeluna was held in siege by
the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></SPAN></span> French. All the other soldiers were unanimous in wishing to
surrender on condition of freedom to leave, since it was impossible to
hold out any longer; but Ignatius so persuaded the commander, that,
against the views of all the other nobles, he decided to hold the
citadel against the enemy.</p>
<p>When the day of assault came, Ignatius made his confession to one of
the nobles, his companion in arms. The soldier also made his to
Ignatius. After the walls were destroyed, Ignatius stood fighting
bravely until a cannon ball of the enemy broke one of his legs and
seriously injured the other.</p>
<p>When he fell, the citadel was surrendered. When the French took
possession of the town, they showed great admiration for Ignatius.
After twelve or fifteen days at Pampeluna, where he received the best
care from the physicians <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></SPAN></span>of the French army, he was borne on a litter
to Loyola. His recovery was very slow, and doctors and surgeons were
summoned from all parts for a consultation. They decided that the leg
should be broken again, that the bones, which had knit badly, might be
properly reset; for they had not been properly set in the beginning,
or else had been so jostled on the journey that a cure was impossible.
He submitted to have his flesh cut again. During the operation, as in
all he suffered before and after, he uttered no word and gave no sign
of suffering save that of tightly clenching his fists.</p>
<p>In the meantime his strength was failing. He could take no food, and
showed other symptoms of approaching death. On the feast of St. John
the doctors gave up hope of his recovery, and he was advised to make
his confession. Having received the sacraments on the eve of <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></SPAN></span>the
feasts of Sts. Peter and Paul, toward evening the doctors said that if
by the middle of the night there were no change for the better, he
would surely die. He had great devotion to St. Peter, and it so
happened by the goodness of God that in the middle of the night he
began to grow better.</p>
<p>His recovery was so rapid that in a few days he was out of danger. As
the bones of his leg settled and pressed upon each other, one bone
protruded below the knee. The result was that one leg was shorter than
the other, and the bone causing a lump there, made the leg seem quite
deformed. As he could not bear this, since he intended to live a life
at court, he asked the doctors whether the bone could be cut away.
They replied that it could, but it would cause him more suffering than
all that had preceded, as everything was healed, <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></SPAN></span>and they would need
space in order to cut it. He determined, however, to undergo this
torture.</p>
<p>His elder brother looked on with astonishment and admiration. He said
he could never have had the fortitude to suffer the pain which the
sick man bore with his usual patience. When the flesh and the bone
that protruded were cut away, means were taken to prevent the leg from
becoming shorter than the other. For this purpose, in spite of sharp
and constant pain, the leg was kept stretched for many days. Finally
the Lord gave him health. He came out of the danger safe and strong
with the exception that he could not easily stand on his leg, but was
forced to lie in bed.</p>
<p>As Ignatius had a love for fiction, when he found himself out of
danger he asked for some romances to pass away <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></SPAN></span>the time. In that
house there was no book of the kind. They gave him, instead, "The Life
of Christ," by Rudolph, the Carthusian, and another book called the
"Flowers of the Saints," both in Spanish. By frequent reading of these
books he began to get some love for spiritual things. This reading led
his mind to meditate on holy things, yet sometimes it wandered to
thoughts which he had been accustomed to dwell upon before.</p>
<p>Among these there was one thought which, above the others, so filled
his heart that he became, as it were, immersed and absorbed in it.
Unconsciously, it engaged his attention for three and four hours at a
time. He pictured to himself what he should do in honor of an
illustrious lady, how he should journey to the city where she was, in
what words he would address <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></SPAN></span>her, and what bright and pleasant sayings
he would make use of, what manner of warlike exploits he should
perform to please her. He was so carried away by this thought that he
did not even perceive how far beyond his power it was to do what he
proposed, for she was a lady exceedingly illustrious and of the
highest nobility.</p>
<p>In the meantime the divine mercy was at work substituting for these
thoughts others suggested by his recent readings. While perusing the
life of Our Lord and the saints, he began to reflect, saying to
himself: "What if I should do what St. Francis did?" "What if I should
act like St. Dominic?" He pondered over these things in his mind, and
kept continually proposing to himself serious and difficult things. He
seemed to feel a certain readiness for doing them, with no other
reason except this thought:<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></SPAN></span> "St. Dominic did this; I, too, will do
it." "St. Francis did this; therefore I will do it." These heroic
resolutions remained for a time, and then other vain and worldly
thoughts followed. This succession of thoughts occupied him for a long
while, those about God alternating with those about the world. But in
these thoughts there was this difference. When he thought of worldly
things it gave him great pleasure, but afterward he found himself dry
and sad. But when he thought of journeying to Jerusalem, and of living
only on herbs, and practising austerities, he found pleasure not only
while thinking of them, but also when he had ceased.</p>
<p>This difference he did not notice or value, until one day the eyes of
his soul were opened and he began to inquire the reason of the
difference. He learned by experience that one train of thought left
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></SPAN></span>him sad, the other joyful. This was his first reasoning on spiritual
matters. Afterward, when he began the Spiritual Exercises, he was
enlightened, and understood what he afterward taught his children
about the discernment of spirits. When gradually he recognized the
different spirits by which he was moved, one, the spirit of God, the
other, the devil, and when he had gained no little spiritual light
from the reading of pious books, he began to think more seriously of
his past life, and how much penance he should do to expiate his past
sins.</p>
<p>Amid these thoughts the holy wish to imitate saintly men came to his
mind; his resolve was not more definite than to promise with the help
of divine grace that what they had done he also would do. After his
recovery his one wish was to make a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. He fasted
frequently and scourged himself to <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></SPAN></span>satisfy the desire of penance that
ruled in a soul filled with the spirit of God.</p>
<p>The vain thoughts were gradually lessened by means of these
desires—desires that were not a little strengthened by the following
vision. While watching one night he plainly saw the image of the
Blessed Mother of God with the Infant Jesus, at the sight of which,
for a considerable time, he received abundant consolation, and felt
such contrition for his past life that he thought of nothing else.
From that time until August, 1555, when this was written, he never
felt the least motion of concupiscence. This privilege we may suppose
from this fact to have been a divine gift, although we dare not state
it, nor say anything except confirm what has been already said. His
brother and all in the house recognized from what appeared externally
how great a change had taken place in his soul.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>He continued his reading meanwhile, and kept the holy resolution he
had made. At home his conversation was wholly devoted to divine
things, and helped much to the spiritual advancement of others.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></SPAN></span></p>
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