EXCERPTS FROM THE LIFE OF JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE

Published 1845 in three volumes

Blanco White                      

In this image of Lucretia, the book she is holding is Blanco White's autobiography. She often spoke of White and how much she admired his long, tortured spiritual journey, even referring to him as "my pet author."  These excerpts will attempt to give the flavor of his story, and his reflections on Quakerism, which came late in his life.

Cadiz is a most striking town, and might well captivate an older and more experienced traveller than I was at that period. My stay, though short, was productive of great pleasure to me, and perfectly free from any irregularity. I returned home full of self-importance, though obliged to keep the sense of it to myself; yet to have sailed a few miles on the sea, to have been alongside of a line-of-battle ship, and lived a whole week at Cadiz, had raised me (so I conceived) in refinement and knowledge of the world, not a few degrees above my less fortunate friends.

But though no moral evil had been connected with my summer excursion, I did not feel so well disposed towards my intended profession as before. This growing dislike might have altered the whole course of my future life had it not been for the well-timed remedy of, what are called, the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola. You will find that curious practice described in Doblado’s Letters.

The system of these Spiritual Exercises is a masterpiece of church machinery. I do not mean that the Engineers, in whose hands I have seen it work, were acting in the full consciousness of deception. On the contrary, most of them partook of the delusion which they worked upon others. Yet they could not but be aware of the advantages which they derived from the system, and of the influence it gained to their party.

On an appointed day, late in the evening, forty or fifty men of different ages and professions, most of them from the higher and middle ranks, and sometimes a few of humble condition, who were either desirous of improving the effect of a former discipline, or were induced to try a regular course of that spiritual medicine for the first time, met at St. Philip Neri, and presented themselves to Father Vella, the head of the establishment, whose permission to attend the Exercises they had obtained some time before. This remarkable person had built an additional wing to the conventual house of St. Philip Neri, for the exclusive purpose of the Exercises, which were repeated at least six times a-year.

He was unquestionably a man of talent. But his extraordinary influence arose chiefly from a deep knowledge of mankind, great self-confidence, and a rough, yet impassioned eloquence, united, as it appeared, with the most ardent feelings of devotion. That he was sincere I have no doubt; but that he loved power, and sought it with the most consummate and successful policy, is equally clear to me. No eastern potentate could exceed him in that air of habitual command, which appals the most resolute minds when drawn within its sphere. During the period of six or seven years, when I frequented the establishment of St. Philip Neri, I have seen hundreds of persons presenting themselves to Father Vega. But even those who came against their will, and determined to remain unmoved (as was the case with many whom the Archbishop of Seville sent to prepare for orders), could not but feel awed in his presence.

There was, however, a surprising variety of tone, of phrase, and of manner in his address; which so perfectly suited the character and condition of the person to whom he spoke, that one might have guessed who and what they were, from Father Vega’s part of the dialogue. His countenance, besides, was very striking. It must be an interesting fact to physiognomists, and, perhaps, to phrenologists, that an excellent bust of Oliver Cromwell, which I had frequently before my eyes during two years of my residence in this country, forcibly reminded me of my old spiritual leader. That this was not a mere fancy, may be proved by the circumstance that a young Irishman, whom I knew intimately at Seville, and who, through my father’s influence, submitted to the Spiritual Exercises. told me that from the recollection he had of the portraits of Oliver Cromwell, he imagined he saw him alive when Father Vega stood before him.

His voice was harsh and nasal; but in the private chapel, fitted up on purpose for the Exercitants, he could modulate its tones with a wonderful effect. During the performance of mass, he was daily affected to such a degree that a flood of tears gushed from his eyes, especially at the time of consecration. This may convey to some people the idea of perfect acting; but I knew the man very well, and having often reconsidered his character, I feel bound, in candour, to acquit him of that charge. The modifications of enthusiasm are, indeed, innumerable, and the manner in which the thoughts of things invisible, constantly dwelt upon with vehemence, can affect the nervous system, has never been thoroughly investigated. In Roman Catholic countries, the tendency to produce this hysterica passio (as I have before mentioned) is a fact perfectly familiar. Nor is this affection necessarily connected with what we call nervousness. The person in question was entirely free from that kind of weakness. Indeed, in sternness and boldness, he might be compared to Knox, the Scotch Reformer. It was on him -~ that the pack of cowled bloodhounds, (less staunch than himself,) who attended the unfortunate woman, put to death by the Inquisition, within my memory, shifted the task of hearing her confession, when already bound to the stake. I need not, indeed I must not, repeat that horrible story. But you will probably recollect, that fear and exhaustion made the poor wretch recant, when it was too late to save her life. But it is time to return to the Spiritual Exercises.

As the persons, previously admitted, arrived, in the evening when the Exercises were to begin, they humbly kissed Father Vega’s hand, and after the exchange of a few words, each was sent to the room which lie was to inhabit. These rooms were generally double-bedded. Into them, the whole company were distributed, generally in couples. But, according to the rules of the house, all conversation, except on indispensable subjects (which was allowed in whispers) was forbidden between the inhabitants of the same room, technically called compaidons. Soon after this domestic arrangement was over, a large bell announced the first meeting in the chapel. That place was kept nearly dark. A lantern, closed on all sides but one, threw its light on a statue of Christ expiring on the Cross. As the object of the sculptor was to strike the senses, without any regard to taste, the statue was as large as life, with glass eyes, and the body so coloured as to represent flesh sprinkled here and there with blood.

After the congregation had taken their seats, in profound silence, one of Father Vega’s assistant priests read the subject of Meditation for that evening. This reading generally lasted half an hour. At the end of it, all knelt. For about a quarter of an hour nothing was heard but the pendulum of the clock which was to measure a full hour for Meditation. Aware, however, that most of his spiritual patients would lose themselves in reverie, if left entirely to their own thoughts, Father Vega assisted them, with what, in the language of ascetism, are called ejaculations. It seemed as if his thoughts, growing too big and vehement to be contained in his breast, broke out in spite of himself.

At first, these ejaculations were short and came at long intervals but they gradually grew more frequent and longer; till, near the end of the hour, and just before the congregation were allowed to rise from their knees, the monotonous chant of the ejaculations was changed into agonizing screams, accompanied with a loud smiting of the breast, in which the congregation joined, as they were moved; most of them repeating the words of the Director, and loudly calling for mercy.

But the effects of Father Vega’s art were not seen in full force at the first meeting. He knew the human mind too well to attempt the application of a sudden impulse which might produce recoiling. As the same congregation were to remain under the operation of his spells till the tenth day after their entrance, he could operate at leisure. During that time, the Exercitants were not allowed to go out of the house~ nor to see their nearest relations except for a few minutes, once or twice during the whole time. The time of rising was five o’clock in the morning. The employment of the day consisted of three hours of Meditation, at different times: one hour of reading the life of a saint, to which all attended in chapel: and, lastly, just before supper and retiring to sleep, an extempore sermon by Father Vega, which lasted about an hour and a half.

Nor was this strict and uninterrupted discipline the only means employed to agitate and subdue the mind. There was a graduated scale of spiritual terrors, which, when raised to a certain pitch, gave way to a gleam of affecting joy. The third day of the Exercises was known to be the most terrific. Our subject appointed for that day was the eternity of punishment. I cannot give an idea of the ingenuity employed in striking the imagination by means of this awful subject. Whatever can be conceived to torture the body and agonize the soul, all was described in the most vivid colours.

In the morning, the reading and meditation turned upon the consignment of a wicked soul to hell. The howlings of the evil spirits, as they celebrated their triumph; the first plunging of the wretched being into the flames its cries of despair, its blasphemies against heaven the applause with which the most horrible expressions were received by the devil and his angels—all were given with shocking minuteness. The ejacu1ations of the Director added touches of lurid light to the picture; and yet he would not conclude by imploring mercy. That word could not pass his lips. His voice gradually sunk, while sighs and sobs grew louder and louder around him.

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