And he tried so desperately hard to be honest with himself and with his God that he must first reduce every question to certain fundamental principles of faith and doctrine before he dared to expose it to the touchstone of human sentiment. When Pope Pius IV heard of his death, he remarked, “The power of that heretic lay in the fact that he was indifferent to money.” If His Holiness meant to pay his enemy the compliment of absolute personal disinterestedness, he was right. Calvin lived and died a poor man and refused to accept his last quarterly salary because “illness had made it impossible for him to earn that money as he should have done.” But his strength lay elsewhere. He was a man of one idea, his life centered around one all-overpowering impulse; the desire to find the truth of God as revealed in the Scriptures. When he finally had reached a conclusion that seemed proof against every possible form of argument and objection, then at last he incorporated it into his own code of life. And thereafter he went his way with such utter disregard for the consequences of his decision that he became both invincible and irresistible. This quality, however, was not to make itself manifest until many years later. During the first decade after his conversion he was obliged to direct all his energies toward the very commonplace problem of keeping alive. A short triumph of the “new learning” in the University of Paris, an orgy of Greek declensions, Hebrew irregular verbs and other forbidden intellectual fruit had been followed by the usual reaction. When it appeared that even the rector of that famous seat of learning had been contaminated with the pernicious new German doctrines, steps were taken to purge the institution of all those who in terms of our modern medical science might be considered “idea carriers.” Calvin, who, ’twas said, had given the rector the material for several of his most objectionable speeches, was among those whose names appeared at the top of the list of suspects. His rooms were searched. His papers were confiscated and an order was issued for his arrest. He heard of it and hid himself in the house of a friend. But storms in an academic tea-pot never last very long. All the same, a career in the Church of Rome had become an impossibility. The moment had arrived for a definite choice. In the year 1534 Calvin broke away from the old faith. Almost at the same moment, on the hills of Montmartre, high above the French capital, Loyola and a handful of his fellow students were taking that solemn vow which shortly afterwards was to be incorporated into the constitution of the Society of Jesus. Thereupon they both left Paris. Ignatius set his face towards the east, but remembering the unfortunate outcome of his first assault upon the Holy Land, he retraced his steps, went to Rome and there began those activities which were to carry his fame (or otherwise) to every nook and corner of our planet.