had resolved on resistance. As he could not single-handed defend the town, on account of the disposition of the inhabitants, he tried to persuade the Commandant of the fortress at least to stand on the defensive, and gave him such good reasons for it that he brought him completely over to his side, and, in opposition to the advice of all the other gentlemen present, it was resolved to hold out against the French, although the want of resources afforded but little hope, and had given rise to the adverse opinion. The enemy having got possession of the town itself without opposition, then summoned the citadel to surrender, and prepared to assault it with vigour. The Commandant decided upon a parley, and went to the quarters of the French General, accompanied by three others, one of whom was Ignatius. The besiegers, knowing that the fortress could not hold out long, and wishing to strike more terror into their enemies, laid upon them the hardest conditions. Even these, however, the Spaniards would have accepted had it not been for the vehement remonstrances of Ignatius. The conditions were refused, and they had to prepare themselves for a fierce assault from the enemy, all the more enraged at the rejection of the terms proposed. Upon the commencement of the siege, Ignatius, as was often done by the brave knights of the middle ages when in danger of death, made a confession, as he himself tells us, to one of his companions in arms—a gentleman like himself, with whom he had often engaged in combat, probably in tournaments. This confession, made to a layman in default of a Priest, was an act of penance and humiliation, and shows that the warriors of those times did not consider it a weakness to think of their soul in the hour of danger.

The attack and the defence were both alike hotly contested. The French endeavoured to open a breach with their cannon, and then mount and take the place by storm. The wall was already crumbling, and about to fall under the fire of their artillery, at the very spot where Ignatius stood fighting with the courage of a lion and with no intention of retreat, when* a ball of the enemy passing between his legs broke the front bone of the right leg and severely wounded him in the flesh of the left one. He fell, and * Gonzalez does not speak of a spent ball as Bartoli does.

with him fell the courage of the defenders of the citadel, so that the French quickly made themselves masters of it. But the valour with which he had fought in defence of his post won for him the admiration of his enemies, and instead of treating him as a prisoner they carried him to his quarters in the town, where he remained some twelve or fifteen days, attended by the French physicians.

The date of an event so important in its consequences was the 20th of May, the second day in Pentecost week, not the 19th, as was believed before the time of the Bollandists, for in the year 1521 Easter Day fell upon the 31st of March. The fortress which St. Ignatius had so gallantly defended was afterwards demolished, but in remembrance of this action a chapel, dedicated to St. Ignatius, was subsequently built upon the site, as may be seen by an inscription on the wall, showing that, in place of the chapel, there had been previously a memorial of another form, and that the chapel could not have been erected prior to the year 1606.

The state of Ignatius' wound required more exact care than he could receive at Pampeluna in the midst of strangers. He had reason a second time for gratitude to his captors, as they gave him permission to retire to his own country, and had him conveyed thither in a litter. Whether it was that his journey was undertaken too soon, or that the bandages had not been well put on, it was found on examination that the parts of the broken bone were not adhering straight together, and the surgeons declared that the bone must be broken again before the parts could be replaced in their natural position. Ignatius consented, and endured this terrible operation without any other sign of pain than that of clenching his hands. But his health, instead of mending, grew worse; fever followed, along with such weakness and loss of appetite that he was reduced to great extremity. Made acquainted with the danger in which he lay, he wished to prepare himself for death by receiving the last Sacraments. On the eve of the Feast of SS. Peter and Paul the physicians declared that there was no hope unless a change for the better took place that night. The crisis, in fact, occurred at midnight, and by the aid of St. Peter, to whom he always had special devotion, and who, as

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all the historians of his life assert, appeared to him promising that he should recover, his cure began. From that moment a sensible change for the better showed itself, and the wound healed up. Still, it was afterwards found that, from the mismanagement of the physicians, one of the reunited bones. overlapped the other, so that the right leg was shorter than the left, while he could not walk without halting, nor even stand straight up on both feet. A disfigurement so painful to a man of the world, and one who wished to cut a figure in it, was deemed insupportable by the ardent temperament of Ignatius. He inquired of the surgeons whether any remedy could be found. They replied that they knew of no other than to cut away the protruding bone, but that the operation would be exceedingly painful. As, however, he feared nothing so much as to appear in his deformed state before the eyes of the world, he submitted with unheard-of constancy to the martyrdom he had determined to endure, not even allowing himself to be tied, and held his leg without wincing under the saw, so that his brother, Don Martin, who was present, declared in astonishment that he himself could never have had the courage to undergo such pain. This operation took away, it is true, the crookedness of the limb, but could not prevent one leg from being shorter than the other, and though Ignatius put himself for a long time to the torture of having it stretched out by machinery, yet, in spite of everything, he remained a little lame all his life.

Whilst remaining so long an invalid time hung heavily on his hands, and he sought for some amusement suitable to the disposition of his mind. He regarded the apparition of St. Peter and the cure which followed it as an especial favour from Heaven, intended rather to enable him to continue the life which he had hitherto pursued than to suggest his changing it for another. This view filled him with new hopes, and he was very far from suspecting the true designs of Providence with regard to him, even at the moment when they were on the point of being actually begun in him. He, on the contrary, gave himself up for whole hours to the reveries of his imagination, and to the dreams of happiness with which it supplied him. He says of himself that the thought of the lady of his affections incessantly occupied his mind, and that for three or four

hours together he represented to himself how he would soon go to see her, how he would address her, and what mots* or pleasantries he would discourse of with her, and the feats of arms he would perform in her presence. In order to entertain more fully these agreeable fancies he asked for books of knight-erranty, but as none were to be found in the Castle of Loyola, they gave him instead the Life of Jesus Christ and of the Saints.†

We may easily suppose that this style of reading would not be very agreeable to one who was thinking only of diverting himself, since the lives set before him could only recall lessons of mortification and self-abnegation. St. Ignatius tells us little of this important period of his life, nor explains at all how the thought of changing his life. and of imitating the Saints, whose histories he read, was suggested to his mind. He only speaks of the difference he found between thoughts of the world and those suggested by faith. He says that when the hopes and pictures of the world had charmed his phantasy for a while, upon their disappearance they left behind them a certain void, a trouble and an interior discontent which he did not find when he thought of the imitation of the Saints, for that then, on the contrary, he felt an unspeakable calm and peace; that during a considerable time he did not remark this difference, but having one day observed it he gave it his deep attention. From the effects he proceeded to examine the causes, and thus learned to distinguish the different spirits that acted upon his soul.

It seems certain that, after this, the reading of these books speedily made an impression on the mind of Ignatius, for he very soon began to think of renouncing the world, notwithstanding all the ties and strong inclinations which bound him to it. Although the accounts of his life give us very few precise dates of the rise and progress of this interior change leading him on to a supernatural life, yet we may endeavour in the following way to trace how it was brought about. He is in love with a lady whom he cannot hope to espouse. The affection is a pure one, which inspires noble

* A mot is a saying with a double or hidden meaning.

The title of the book was The Lives of the Saints in Romaunt, that is to say, in the old Castilian tongue.

thoughts, and high desires to distinguish himself by actions of renown; it preserves him from many falls, at an age which is liable to be led astray by its passions. In the midst of his plans and his hopes he is struck by a cannonball, which leaves his life, but disfigures him. With his heart still full of his former inclinations, he tries every means to be rid of the deformity, and indures intolerable pains that he may realize his prospects of earthly happiness. But all these incidents come to him from a supporting hand above which he does not yet recognize, and which is guiding him, though his will is tending in quite an opposite direction. It is in the midst of this very struggle between the wishes of his heart and the exterior circumstances which prevent their accomplishment that a new life wakens within him from the perusal of a book. But with the dawn of this life commences also within him an intestine war.

Those who have experienced it know what sufferings it causes and what a sacrifice it requires, simply to give up hopes, for does not the happiness of man in this world consist in a great measure in hopes? Ignatius had sought an earthly happiness, which had fled before him, enticing him on anew by treacherous illusions of which he never saw the realization. The lives of the Saints made him acquainted with another kind of happiness that gives all that it promises, which makes us rich by foregoing all superfluities, and happy by renouncing ourselves. He had hitherto dreamed only of battles, love, and earthly glory. Suddenly the hand of God arrests him in his career, and discovers to him a new world which he had not so much as thought of. He is introduced into the new lore of the high deeds of the warriors of God. There also he finds love, but a love pure and disinterested, the imperishable love of God, which raises its sweetest songs amid those pains and sorrows that prove it, and which, kindling its heavenly spark in the hearts of these holy men, and inflaming them with celestial fire, drives them to the solitude of the desert, there to cultivate their souls and make them a garden of virtues; while the world, with its selfishness and egotism, renders the soul a wilderness.

But here too there is war of another kind-the spiritual combat; a struggle not between two forces which if equal