gratias." The novice then went to his monitor (who should be in his cell in readiness), scratched the curtain, entered as soon as permission was given, and with downcast eyes said "Deo gratias." His monitor mentioned whatever he had observed amiss in his conduct; concluding with "Deo gratias," which was a dismissal, and then went to his own monitor: if he had not already received his admonition. This was a painful duty to perform; particularly if you had to admonish one considerably older than yourself, as was my case. I fulfilled the duty once, and I think but once. concentration of the heart and

I

took refuge in that mind which strives,

at least, to see no evil in others: a consummation to which all may in a great measure attain, if we anatomise our own heart and its suggestions. The novice, when admonished, was expected to receive the admonition with grateful humility, and resolve to avoid the fault admonished. Of course, no question was asked as to the when? or why? of the time and reason of the objected imperfection: you listened, but never rejoined.

If the monitor had observed nothing, he said " Deo gratias."

"To the greater glory of God !" was the end held forth to us, in all that we were taught to think, to feel, to do; and it was certainly not impossible to console our nettled self-love with "hanc veniam petimusque damusque vicissim"-"we give and take”— sanctifying the worldly motto with an aspiration in "the spirit of holy Father IGNATIUS."

In a state of primitive Christianity-or among the Jesuits if they could reproduce that golden age, how beautiful would be that reciprocal anxiety or rather solicitude for each other's spiritual welfare! But when one has felt, as I have, the fearful temptations of bitter thought which the practice multiplies for poor humanity already sufficiently tempted - it requires but little reasoning to convince us that it subserves the unalloyed selfishness of the Society, much more than the cause of religious amendment in the individual. "He who toucheth pitch," it is written, "shall be defiled therewith"-there are defiling things in our nature which not even the Jesuits can sanctify by the end of their application.

True, the novice is aware of this regulation before he enters into probation; but the previous knowledge of their existence does not diminish the pang or the poison of the sting of the musquitoes in the pestilential swamps of America, when the traveller feels their sting, or hears their sepulchral serenade: a thousand times more annoying than the silent sting.

To an honest man-to a generous heart, counsel, advice, a friendly admonition must always be acceptable: "a word to the wise" should be the motto of every man, because every man should strive to attain the perfection of his state; but by rendering such reprimands the result of a systematic espionage (I rejoice that there is no English word to express it), you open the way to unholy selfishness in its deadliest rancour, precisely because it can work unseen as the blast of pestilence.

Of what import will it bc, if I admit that all things may be endured for the sake of Him who endured all things for us? Let those things be endured as He endured them, namely, when they came upon Him as man-but let us not lead ourselves into temptation whilst we pray to be delivered from evil!

Perhaps my conclusions would have been different had I beheld better effects of the training than it was my misfortune to witness: had I seen a pure, mortified spirit in the Fathers generally—an honest consistency with the dazzling models of my daily meditations. But I looked around in vain: I waited in vain-my gorgeous dreams dissolved in the presence of the sad reality. I therefore am compelled to admit that I was constantly" tempted" to think the "Fathers" with whom I associated-whose looks, eyes and words I could study-as eminently selfseekers men of an association; not of the "Constitutions," where these described my model.

This impression was never thoroughly overcome; and the last interview with the Provincial, when I made known my determination to leave, engraved on my mind what had only been traced or sketched before it will be given in full in its proper place.

Training gives the Jesuit power to do what other men cannot do-as it does to the acrobat, the tumbler, the equestrian: what the latter effect in the brute muscle and limb, the former display in mind and morals. All have, doubtless, motives strong enough to rouse the most uncompromising exertion.

166

CHAPTER X.

GAMES.-RECREATION.-MISSIONARY DUTIES.

THIS is a strange combination of topics: it will not, however, appear so very strange at "the end of the chapter." The Jesuits do nothing in vain: at least without an object; and their " Philosophy in sport" is as admirably devised as it is, in the long run, perfectly successful. In effect their whole system is a gigantic speculation-a cunning stratagem—a splendid deceit a most bewitching artifice. And yet, like the conjurer, it is by natural means that they exhibit supernatural manifestations. Whatever be the mental deficiencies of the Jesuit, like IGNATIUS himself, he must have, he has, tact-such tact, precisely, as a tiger would acquire were its original cunning modified and trained by the patient, wise, discreet elephant. Such a result would evidently be a remarkable phenomenon in zoology; and such is the Jesuit-mind in psychology-nothing more, nothing less. The Jesuits are terrible because they are natural. We do not habitually fear the devil as much as we do a bad man-and a child can tell you the reason.

My admiration of the wonderful adaptability of the human mind has been so vastly increased by the study of these men and their system, that I have great pleasure in returning the favour, by enabling others to deal fairly with them: to do them justice, as honest Milton, in "Paradise Lost," seems to have intended by his gorgeous development of Satan and his awful theory. They are conscious of their "cleverness." Perhaps one of the best specimens of harmless Jesuits was my old friend the master of the novices at Hodder; and yet the following incident rather staggered my esteem of this gentleman—it suggested "temptations." The reader shall judge. One day I was ordered to mend a torn leaf of the missal. I required some india-rubber: there was none to be had. I suggested a piece of bread as a substitute. He accordingly led me to the kitchen, seized a loaf, and taking a knife in his hand he cut a slice, not in the usual way, towards the breast, but from him; observing, "Remember, Brother Steinmetz, le Jesuite coupe, mais il ne se coupe pas"-" the Jesuit cuts, but he takes care not to cut himself." He smiled-I did the same-but I certainly wished he had forgotten the maxim. At the end of my work, however, he partly did away with the bad impression by delicately praising my work; adding-" Qui dedit tibi pietatem, dedit et scientiam"-" He who gave thee piety, gave thee also skill." The latter anecdote certainly shows a delicate perception of the pleasant and beautiful, if the former does not point to an acknowledged and systematic craft: still it seemed to