I know that there is no lack of affection on your part; quite the contrary, you have a great deal for me. You don't know of the hardships and privations of my life at the University-I am without even the necessaries—or you, with your abundance of everything at home, would feel them as much as I do. I put up with my troubles, because I am sure that, when you learn about them, your generosity will provide an end to them.

I have met here lately Rev. Father Fray Vear who told me all about the grievances you held against me. From what he said I can see that you have been deeply pained. Nothing could prove more clearly the tenderness of your affection for me. My worst regret is that you have suffered so much from the stories of good-for-nothing rascals. I wish I knew just who they are, so that I could pay them back as richly as they deserve. But it is hard to discover them, for everybody here has behaved in a most friendly way. God knows how vexed I am by being obliged to defer the punishment they deserve. My one comfort is that "quod differtur non aufertur."

Now, in order that you may know beyond a doubt how great a benefit God has conferred on me by making me acquainted with Master Iñigo, I give you my word that never in all my life shall I be able to pay my debt to him. Over and over again, both with his purse and his friends, he has succoured my necessities; and, thanks to him, I have withdrawn from bad company which, owing to my lack of experience, I did not recognize. But now that these heresies have got about Paris, I would not have been of their fellowship for all the riches in the world. If this were the only service Master Iñigo had done for me, I don't know when I could repay him. I repeat, it was he that prevented me from consorting with people, who on the outside appeared good, but whose hearts were full of heresies, as the event proved. And, therefore, since his good deeds have laid me under so great an obligation, I beg you to give to him the same reception you would give to me. Remember that if he were what they reported him to be, he would not go to your house and deliver himself into your hands. No wrong

doer puts himself into the power of the man he has wronged. By this one fact you can see clearly the falsity of all that has been said to you about Master Iñigo.

And now, I entreat with all my heart, do not fail to get to know Master Iñigo, and to talk to him. Believe everything he says. He is so God-fearing and of such high character that you will derive great benefit from his conversation and counsels. Once more, I beg you for mercy's sake, do this. As for whatever Master Iñigo shall say to you from me, please believe him as you would me. You can learn of my needs and hardships from him better than from anybody else, for he knows them better than anybody else. And if you wish to relieve my poverty, you may hand over to Master Iñigo (the bearer of this letter) whatever you may choose to give me. He is obliged to go to Almazan [Old Castile] with letters from one of my friends [Diego Lainez] who comes from Almazan and is a student here. This friend of mine, who is well off, receives his remittances by a sure channel, and he is writing to his father, that if Señor Iñigo shall give him funds for students here in Paris, to send them on together with his, by the same method. And since there is so secure a way, I beg you to remember me.

I have no further news to tell you, since our dear nephew ran away from the University. I followed him as far as Notre-Dame de Cléry, thirty-four leagues from Paris. Please let me know whether he arrived in Navarre; I fear that he will never be good for much. As to what has happened here in the way of heresy, Master Iñigo will tell you all I could by writing. So I conclude, and kiss your hands and my Lady's a thousand times. And may God prosper your noble lives for all the years you may desire. Your very faithful servant and younger brother, FRANCIS XAVIER.

Without doubt Ignatius delivered the letter. From Obaños he went to Almazan to see the parents of Diego Lainez, thence to Siguenza, to Toledo, from there to Valencia, and up toward Segovia, near which was situated

the Carthusian monastery where his old disciple, Juan de Castro, was living. He returned to Valencia and there took ship for Genoa. The voyage had a spice of danger, for Mohammedan pirates infested the sea. According to report, the Turkish admiral, Barbarossa, master of Algiers, had recently raided a town of Minorca, impaled a thousand Christians and taken prisoners four thousand more, while his right hand corsair, Cacciadiavolo, or a third, El Judeo, had laid waste the coasts of Sardinia and Minorca, and might well be lying off Valencia on the lookout for prizes. However, as it turned out, the Emperor's expedition against Tunis at this time kept the pirates busy at home, and the worst misadventure was a terrible tempest, in which the rudder broke and many on board gave the ship up for lost. Loyola says that during the storm he prepared to meet death and examined his conscience, and found no fear of death, nor of damnation, but great trouble and sorrow because he had not put to good use the gifts and mercies that God had vouchsafed him,

CHAPTER XVII

VENICE (1536)

FROM Genoa Loyola went on foot to Bologna, across the Apennines. In his Memoirs he recalls one or two mishaps. At one point he lost the high-road and found himself on so difficult a path, between a rugged mountain side and a river far below, that he had to go on hands and feet for a long distance, and suffered great bodily exhaustion. This may have happened at Bismantova, a precipitous hill in Emilia, which stands almost on a line, as the crow flies, between Genoa and Bologna. Bismantova is an out of the way spot, but of immortal though pale renown, because Dante refers to it as an instance of a most difficult path, in order to help his reader imagine how hard his climb, as he goes crawling up the Mount of Purgatory on hands and feet,

e piedi e man voleva il suol di sotto.

Loyola, at this time, was a poor Italian scholar, and there is no record that he ever heard of Dante, but he may well have thought of Purgatory.

And when he was reaching Bologna the poor pilgrim tumbled off a bridge into water and mud, to the delight of the bystanders; and finally when he begged in the streets no one would give him a penny. Luckily he came upon the Spanish College and received its hospitality. At first he proposed to stay and study at the university until his comrades should come from Paris; but he fell ill and could do no work, so he changed his mind and went on to Venice about January 1st, where he lived for a whole year awaiting the tryst. A letter written not very long after his arrival speaks of his circumstances:

To Jaime Cazador, at Barcelona

VENICE, Feb. 12, 1536.

May the Grace and love of Christ, our Saviour, bless us and help us always.

[I omit the beginning.] You say that you will not fail in sending the usual remittance; I am merely to advise you as to when. Isabel Roser has written me that by next April she will provide me with what is necessary to finish my studies. That will be a very good arrangement for me, because I shall then be able to make provision for the whole year, both as to books and other necessaries. Meanwhile, though this city is very dear, and my health does not at present let me undergo privation or bodily labor (more than my studies lay on me), I am sufficiently supplied, because she has sent me twelve crowns, in addition to the alms that, out of love and service to Christ, you have sent me. I hope that I shall repay you in good coin, not only for what you do for me, but for the great solicitude you show for my needs; I don't believe that fathers show more for their own children.

About fifteen days before Christmas I was in Bologna, of those I spent seven in bed with chills and fever and pains of the stomach; so I decided to come to Venice (that is about six weeks ago), and my health is much better. It seems to me that I could not be better off in all these respects.

De bondad pobre (Poor in goodness),

IÑIGO.

Of Venice, then in her glory, Loyola never speaks. His eyes lacked speculation for corporeal things. There stood the Basilica of Saint Mark's, with its domes, its bronze horses, its gorgeous mosaics, and the nobly austere Campanile; there stood the Ducal Palace, the Clock Tower, the Procuratie Vecchie, then new and fresh, San Giovanni e Paolo, the Frari, Santa Maria dei Miracoli. The bronze