SCHOOL DAYS
Vienna WAS a great city, even in those days, since for a long time
it had been the residence of the Roman Emperors of the West. It was
a Catholic city, though even in 1564, little more than forty years
after Luther's revolt, the Lutherans in the city had begun to be
quite numerous.
The Society of Jesus had been founded in 1540, only ten years before
Stanislaus was born. But it had spread quickly. For some years now
there had been a Jesuit house in Vienna. In i56o, four years before
Stanislaus came to Vienna, the Emperor Ferdinand I had loaned to the
Viennese Jesuits a large house next to their own, which they might
use as a college. The Fathers built a connection between the two
houses, so that they became practically one. Here they received
boys from the city, from the country round about, even from Hungary
and far Poland. Here Stanislaus took up his residence.
It was a simpler, less formal sort of school than we perhaps are
accustomed to. The Fathers and the boys lived together, almost as
one big family. They ate together in one large dining hall. There
were always some of the Fathers with the boys in their games, as
well as in their studies. It was a very pleasant place, and a very
good place.
In those early days of Protestantism, Catholics, even Catholic boys,
felt that they were in a fighting situation. The attacks upon the
old faith woke new courage and devotion in those who remained
faithful to the Church of the ages. And so, filled with that spirit
of loyalty, that new earnestness which the times called forth, and
living under the example of the simple manly piety of their Jesuit
teachers, it is no wonder that the boys in the College of Vienna
were an unusually good set of boys.
They had their regular classes, in languages, mathematics, and such
science as the age knew. Latin was then the language of all educated
people in Europe, the language of courts, the common meeting ground
of all nations. Many a time, both in those days and later; a noble
proved his rank and saved himself from mischance by the mere fact
that he spoke Latin. It was not a dead language then, as it is now.
It was in current use. Greek was comparatively new in Western
schools. And though from their beginnings the Jesuits were famous
teachers, we can hardly suppose that in their new and small college
at Vienna the boys were much troubled by the speech of Plato and
Demosthenes.
Of their games it is hard to know much at this late day. Sword-play
and bouts of a soldierly sort were common enough. These boys were
almost all of noble birth; most of them perhaps looked for-ward to
the army for their profession. So they held mimic tournaments and
played games in which they hurled lances through suspended rings;
they shot with bows and arrows; and of course they had matches in
running, jumping and wrestling.
We know that Stanislaus did uncommonly well in the schools. He was
quick, had a good memory, and was too sensible to be lazy. And
though the writers of his life say nothing about it, we are quite
sure that he excelled in games and sports also. For one thing, he as
a general favorite, esteemed by all his fellows; and that must mean
that he was one with them in their play. For another, he was
naturally no dreamer or moper, but the jolliest, cheeriest sort of
boy. And finally, the boy who walked twelve hundred miles in a few
weeks must have been well accustomed to using his legs. Try thirty
miles a day on foot, day after day, you football players and
baseball players, you trained athletes, and say whether it is the
work of a weakling or of a boy who never played.
But it takes more than success in studies and in games to account
for his great popularity with the other college boys. Such success
may win a certain admiration and respect, but it does not of itself
win friends. And Stanislaus had pretty nearly every one for his
friend. To do that requires other gifts, gifts of character.
Everybody liked him, because he had such gifts. He was pious, but
not merely pious; much more than pious, he was good. That means he
was unselfish. There is only one way to make people really love
you, and that is to love them. That is what Stanislaus did; he loved
the people he lived with. He was naturally good hearted, and big
hearted. He had kept away from petty meannesses. He had fought
down his natural selfishness. He had learned not to be always
seeking his own little advantage, not to put himself forward for
praise, not to insist on his " rights," not to boast and carry a
high hand with his comrades, not to talk a lot about himself.
He had learned to forgive little offenses, and big ones, too, for
that matter. He knew all about how our Lord had suffered and put up
with things and forgiven those who hurt Him. And he loved our Lord
so much, was so much at home with Him, that almost without effort he
acted as our Lord would want him to act. He had plenty of spirit,
and a whole world of pluck and daring; but he was not quarrelsome.
Then he was as cheerful as sunshine, and he made every one else
cheerful. Why, the boys could not help loving a boy like him.
Sodalities were rare in those days; but the college boys of Vienna
had a sodality, devoted to the honor of our Lady, and under the
patronage of Saint Barbara. At their meetings; the sodalists in turn
had to address their companions, give a little talk about the
Blessed Virgin, or on some virtue, or the like.
Whenever Stanislaus' turn came, the boys were all expectation. He
was no older than most of them; indeed, younger perhaps. But he had
an older head. He had done more thinking than they, and a deal more
praying. He had no false shame or babyish timidity. If he had
anything to say, he was not afraid to say it. And he certainly had
something to say. It had come to be as easy for him to talk about
our Lady and heaven as for other boys to talk about their mothers at
home. He had treasured up stories of the Blessed Virgin's help, with
which Catholic Poland was filled. He spoke simply, unaffectedly, of
our Lady's love for us, of her power, her willingness to aid us. And
from him, though simply their school mate, the boys heard these
things eagerly. He seemed well privileged to speak, as indeed he was.
To talk about pious things, and do it acceptably, is a mighty hard
matter. You have to know how. And the first part of knowing how is
to be at home with pious things, to have thought about them, often
and long, to have woven them into your life as Stanislaus had done.
The trouble with us is that we live so far removed from thoughts of
God, of His Mother, that they never cease to be strange to us. We go
blunderingly about mention of them, or we lack the courage to speak
at all. But why should they be strange or remote? We are destined
to live forever in heaven, we are the daily recipients of God's
favors, we are sheltered, protected, every way by our Lady's loving
care.
The things that touch us most nearly are the things of the spiritual
world; they are the most thrillingly important; they are the only
really important things. We are not afraid to talk baseball, or
politics, or business. Why be afraid to talk of God's power, His
dominion over us, His love for us, our duties to Him, the helps He
gives us, the reward He holds out to us? There is only one answer:
we don't think enough about these things. There is only one remedy:
do thing about them, as Saint Stanislaus did.