he could not the punishment was meted
out by a powerful boy known as the "Brother Corrector." Under such
perpetual supervision was Paul brought up, and at the same time
educated in spying others. He was never allowed to enter into
conversation, without also listening to what his neighbour was saying,
and under no circumstance could he keep to himself anything that had
come to his knowledge. In this manner the superiors obtained an
information concerning their pupils which left nothing to be desired.
With one ear the confessions and self-made acknowledgments of the
pupil, with the other the reports and tale-bearings against his
school-mates being considered, each character lay exposed before them
to its very roots. The pupils however learnt, to use Ignatius' own
expression, as they grew older "the difficult art of watching over the
portals of the senses" and in this way only did they preserve a scrap
of freedom, of self-dependent reflection, of private conscience, a
little of the individuality which the inner man always demands,
whenever they succeeded in rendering themselves as impenetrable as
possible both to teachers and companions. Paul was naturally of a frank
chivalrous disposition, but these good qualities shrivelled up in the
glow of ambition, fanned by his teachers. In perpetual contest to
preserve the first place against his fellow-pupils, he had opponents
who were dangerous to him, and it was natural that this ambitious child
judged them more harshly and represented them in darker colors than
those who acknowledged his superiority without jealousy, and whose
mediocrity was to him a foil to be wished for. If he unsparingly, in
his sinister ascetic humor, denounced his crimes, should therefore his
rivals make themselves out to be better than they were? Eagerly did he
watch, listen, spy, denounce, and if one of the rivals was once again
through a lucky tale-bearing brought to the "bench of misfortune" or
the "corner of disgrace" he felt a detestable contentment. He was
therefore anything but loved by his colleagues, and the nickname "the
Censor" which they had bestowed on him, expressed the mixture of
respect and distrust they felt for him. It was only with time that the
young zealot perceived how that he, by every romantic confession he
made concerning the devilish abysses in his inner self, had fashioned
so many chains which fettered him to the Society of Jesus; for based on
these confessions the Rector drew up