The Provincial once more sent Father Ignatius to beg on the Continent. He tried to do a double work, as he did not like to be "used up" for begging alone, and the plea of begging would find him access to those he intended to consult. This second work was a form into which he cast his ideas for the sanctification of the world. The way of carrying out these ideas, which has been detailed, was what he settled down to after long discussion and many corrections from authority. The pamphlet which he now wrote had been translated into German by a lady in Münster. In it he proposes a bringing back of Catholics to the infancy of the Church, when the faithful laid the price of their possessions at the feet of the Apostles. He proposed a kind of Theocracy, and the scheme creates about the same sensation as Utopia, when one reads it. Like Sir Thomas More, Father Ignatius gives us what he should consider a perfect state of Christian society; he goes into all the details of its working, and meets the objections that might arise as it proceeds. The pamphlet is entitled Reflectiones Propositionesque pro fidelium Sanctificatione."
On February 14, 1856, he leaves London, and halts in Paris only for a few hours, on his way to Marseilles. There he sees the Archbishop, and begs in the town; he returns then to Lyons, where he has several long conferences with Cardinal de Bonald. We find him in Paris in a few days, writing circulars to the French bishops, of whom the Bishop of Nancy seems to have been his greatest patron. He writes a letter to the Empress, and receives an answer that the Emperor would admit him to an audience. In a day or two Father Ignatius stands in the presence of Napoleon III., and it is a loss that he has not left us the particulars of the conference in writing, because he often reverted to it in conversation with a great deal of interest. He found at his lodgings, on returning from a quête a few days after, l,000f. sent to him as a donation by the Emperor.
His good success in the Tuileries gave him a hope of doing great things among the élite of Parisian society. He is, however, sadly disappointed, and the next day sets off to Belgium.
Arrived in Tournai, he sends a copy of the French circular to the Belgian bishops. This does not seem to be a petition for alms, as we find him the same evening travelling in a third-class carriage to Cologne, without waiting for their Lordships' answers.
During his begging in Cologne, he says mass every morning in St. Colomba's (Columb-Kille's) Church; perhaps the spirit of hospitality was bequeathed to the clergy of this Church by their Irish patron, for he appears to have experienced some coldness from the pfarren of Cologne.
In Münster he is very well received. The Bishop is particularly kind to him, and looks favourably on his Reflectiones; besides that, his lordship deputes a priest to be his guide in begging. Father Ignatius notes in his journal that he preached extempore in German to the Jesuit novices, and that one of the fathers revises and corrects the German translation of the Reflectiones. The priest deputed for guide by the Bishop of Münster was called away on business of importance, and Father Ignatius finds another. This Kaplan "lost his time smoking," and our good father gave up, and went off by Köln to Coblentz.
He finds the bishop here very kind, but is allowed to beg only of the clergy; the Jesuits give him hospitality. A cold reception in Mantz, and a lukewarm one in Augsburg, hurry him off to Munich. He submits the Reflectiones to Dr. Döllinger, who corrects them and gives them his approbation.
From Munich he proceeds to Vienna. A part of this journey, as far as Lintz, had to be performed by an eilwayen or post car. The driver of this vehicle was a tremendous smoker, and Father Ignatius did not at all enjoy the fumes of tobacco. He perceived that the driver forgot the pipe, which he laid down at a hoff on the way, while slaking his thirst, and never told him of it. He was exulting in the hope of being able to travel to the next shop for pipes without inhaling tobacco smoke, when, to his mortification, the driver perceived his loss, and shouted out like a man in despair, Mein pfeiffe! Mein pfeiffe!—My pipe! My pipe! To increase his passenger's disappointment, he actually turned back a full German league, and then smoked with a vengeance until he came to the next stage.
Father Ignatius sends a copy of the Reflectiones to Rome, on his arrival in Vienna, and presents it with an address at an assembly of Bishops that was then being held.
He has audiences with the Emperor and Archduke Maximilian, now Emperor of Mexico, as well as with the Nunzio, and all the notabilities, clerical and secular, in the city.
Immediately after, somehow, he gets notice to quit from the Superior of a religious community, where he had been staying, and all the other religious houses refuse to take him in. He was about to leave Vienna in consequence, as he did not like putting up in an hotel, when some Italian priests gave him hospitality, and welcomed him to stop with them as long as he pleased. As a set-off to his disappointment, the Bishop of Transylvania is very kind to him, and Cardinal Schwartzenberg even begs for him. He met the Most Rev. Father Jandel, General of the Dominicans, in the Cardinal's Palace, and showed him the Reflectiones. The good disciple of St. Thomas examined the document closely, and Father Ignatius records his opinion, "he gave my paper a kick." Notwithstanding this sentence, he went on distributing copies every where; but his tract-distribution was stopped in a few days by a letter he received from our General.
When he sent the little pamphlet to Rome it was handed for criticism to the Lector (or Professor) of Theology in our retreat, who was then Father Ignatius Paoli, the present Provincial in England. The critique was very long and quite unfavourable; it reached him, backed by a letter from the General, which forbade to speak about the counsels for the present. He records this sentence in his journal in these words:—"June 17. A letter from Padre Ignazio, by the General—Order to stop speaking of the counsels, &c. Stop her, back her. Deo gratias!" This was a favourite expression with him whenever a Superior thwarted any of his projects: it was borrowed from the steamboats that ply on the Thames, and Father Ignatius considered himself as in the position of the little boy who echoes the orders of the master to the engineers below. He used to say, "What a catastrophe might one expect if the boy undertook to give an order of his own!"
Whilst in Vienna he received a letter from Father Vincent, telling him of our having established a house of the order near Harold's Cross, Dublin. Father Ignatius accompanied Father Vincent when they were both in Dublin, before the German tour began, in his search for a position, and Rathmines was selected. The excellent parish priest, Monsignor Meagher, had just opened his new church, and laboured hard to have a religious community in his district. He therefore seconded the intentions of our people, and in a short time a house was taken in his parish, and every day cements the connexion between us and this venerable ecclesiastic. A splendid edifice has since been built during the Rectorship of Father Osmond, and chiefly through his exertions.
Father Ignatius went to two or three towns, where the police would not allow him to beg unless patronised by a native priest, and not being able to fulfil these conditions he was obliged to desist.
This was Father Ignatius's last visit to Germany; he had been there five times during his life. The first was a tour of pleasure, all the rest were for higher objects. He seems to have had a great regard for the Germans; he considered them related by blood to the English, and although he himself was of Norman descent, he appears to have a special liking for the Saxon element in character. He preferred to see it blended certainly, and would consider a vein of Celtic or Norman blood an improvement on the Teutonic.
There were other reasons. St. Boniface, the Apostle of Germany, was an Englishman; St. Columbanus and St. Gall might be said to have laboured more in Germany than in their native Ireland. The Germans owed something to England, and he wished to have them make a return. Besides, the Reformation began in Germany, and he would have the countrymen of Luther and of Cranmer work together to repair the injuries they had suffered from each other. This twofold plea was forced upon him by a German periodical, which advocated the cause of the "Crusade" even so far back as 1838. Father Ignatius also knew how German scholarship was tinging the intellect of England, and he thought a spread of devotion would be the best antidote to Rationalism. The reasons for working in France, which he styled "that generous Catholic nation," were somewhat different, but they have been detailed by himself in those portions of the correspondence respecting his crusade.
He visits Raal, Resburg, Baden, Ratisbonne, and Munich; hence he starts for London. Here he arrives on the 4th of October. He did not delay, but went straight to Dublin, and stayed for the first time in Blessed Paul's Retreat, Harold's Cross. This house became his head-quarters for some time, for we find him returning thither after a mission in Kenilworth, and one in Liverpool, as well as a retreat for nuns, which closes his labours for the year 1856.
Seven years, according to physiologists, make a total change in the human frame, such is the extent of the renewal; and although the laws of spirit do not follow those of matter, it may be a pleasing problem to find out how far there is an analogy. The chapter of 1850 was headed like this; let us see if the events of both tell differently upon Father Ignatius.
The first event he records in the Journal for this year is the reception of Mrs. O'Neill into the Church. This good lady had then one son a Passionist; she was what might be called a very strict and devoted Protestant, although all her children were brought up Catholics by her husband. She loved the son who first joined our order very tenderly, and felt his becoming a monk so much that she would never read one of his letters. The son was ordained priest in Monte-Argentaro, and the first news he heard after he had for the first time offered up the Holy Sacrifice, was that his mother had been received in our retreat in Dublin by Father Ignatius. She was induced by another son, who lived in Dublin, to attend benediction, and our Lord gave her the grace of conversion with His blessing. She is now a fervent Catholic, and another son and a daughter have since followed the example of their brother. The mother finds her greatest happiness in what once seemed her greatest affliction. Such is the power of grace, always leading to joy through the bitterness of the cross.
The next event is the death of Father Paul Mary of St. Michael. This saintly Passionist was the Honourable Charles Reginald Packenham, son of the Earl of Longford. He became a convert when captain in the Guards, and shortly after joined our Institute. He was the first rector of Blessed Paul's Retreat, and having edified his brethren by his humility and religious virtues for nearly six years, the term of his life as a Passionist, died in the odour of sanctity. He had been ailing for some time, but still able to do a little in the way of preaching and confessions. It was advertised that he would preach in Gardiner Street, Dublin, on Sunday, March 1. He died that day at one o'clock A.M., and Father Ignatius went to preach in his stead; it created a sensation when the good father began by asking prayers for the repose of the soul of him whose place he came to fill.
In a letter Father Ignatius wrote at this time we have his opinion of Father Paul Mary: ".... As to the Passionists, I do not think those who managed our coming here (to Dublin) which was all done during my absence in Germany, had any idea of serving England. I believe the prime instigator of the move was Father Paul Mary, who was born in Dublin, and was through and through an Irishman in his affections, though trained in England. He, to the last, had all the anti-English feelings, which prevail so much through Ireland, and never would give me the least hope of his being interested for England. I fall in, notwithstanding that, with all the notions of his great virtue and holiness which others have; and I think, moreover, that the best Catholics in Ireland are to be found among those who have been the most bitterly prejudiced against England. But I think there is in reserve for them another great step in advance when they lay down this aversion and turn it into divine charity in a heroic degree."
Father Ignatius always felt keenly Father Paul Mary's not taking up his ideas about England with more warmth. When he was on his death-bed, Father Ignatius spent many hours sitting by him. In one of their last conversations, Father Ignatius urged his pleas for England as strongly as he could; when he had done, and was waiting for the effect, Father Paul said, in a dry, cold manner: "I don't think Ireland has got anything to thank England for." These words were perpetually ringing in the ears of Father Ignatius; they were the last Father Paul ever said on the subject, and the other used to say: "Oh, I used to enjoy his beautiful conversation so much, but I never could hear one single kind word for England."
This year a general chapter of our Congregation was held in Rome. This is an important event, and only occurs every six years. It is here the head superiors are elected, points of rule explained, and regulations enacted for the better ordering of the different houses all over the world, according to circumstances of time and place. The Provincial and the two Consultors of each Province are obliged to attend. Father Ignatius was therefore called to travel abroad once more. When in Rome, he employed all the time that was left from capitular duties in holding conferences with our students, and trying to get some papers he brought with him approved. Among others, he brought the paper that was "kicked" by Father Jaudel, and condemned by one of our theologians. The only one in Rome who approved of it was the Abbate Passaglia. Cardinal Barnabò listened to all Father Ignatius had to urge in its favour; but did not approve of it. He had to return without gaining anything this time; except that the Roman Lector was become his Provincial. In a few years afterwards, when we read of Passaglia's fall, Father Ignatius was heard to say: "Passaglia and Döllinger were the only theologians who approved of my paper. I suppose I need not flatter myself much upon their imprimatur."
He was remarked to be often abstracted when he had many crosses to bear. One day he was going through Rome with one of our Religious, and passed by a fountain. He went over and put his hand so far into one of the jets, that he squirted the water over a number of poor persons who were basking in the sun a few steps beneath him. They made a stir, and uttered a few oaths as the water kept dashing down on them. The companion awoke Father Ignatius out of his reverie, and so unconscious did he seem of the disturbance he had unwittingly created, that he passed on without alluding to it.
On his return home now, as Second Consultor, he is sent to beg again in Ireland. He makes the circuit of Connaught this time. He took, in his journey, Roscommon, Castlerea, visits the O'Connor Don, Boyle, Sligo. Here he was received very kindly by the Bishop and clergy. He had for guide in Sligo, a Johnny Doogan, who seems to have amused him very much. This good man was chief respondent at the Rosary, which used to be said every evening in the church. One night the priest began, "Incline unto my aid, O Lord." No answer. "Where are you, Johnny Doogan?" asked the priest. Johnny, who was a little more than distracted in some corner of the church, replied, as if suddenly awoke: "Here I am, your Reverence, and 'my tongue shall announce thy praise.'" He next passes along through Easky and Cullinamore to Ballina. He gives a retreat to the Sisters of Mercy here, and during it, makes an excursion to Enniscrone. He went next to Ballycastle, Killala, Castlebar. Here he went to visit his cousin, Lord Lucan, and is very kindly received. During the course of conversation, he asked Lord Lucan if he had not heard of his conversion? "Oh yes," he replied, "I heard you were wavering some thirty years ago." "But I have not wavered since," replied Father Ignatius. He then went to Ballinrobe, Westport, Tuam, Athenry, and back to Dublin, by Mullingar. This tour took nearly two months. He gives a retreat in the beginning of September to the nuns of Gorey, and after it, begs through Wexford, and the southwest portion of Leinster. The only thing remarkable about these excursions is, that he notes once, "I am ashamed to think that I have not begged of any poor people to-day."
In December, 1857, his brother Frederick, Lord Spencer, died. This brother was Father Ignatius's companion at school, and it is remarkable that he was the only one of the family who used any kind of severity towards him. He says, in a letter written at this time, "I am twelve years an exile from Althorp." Shortly before the Earl died, he relented, and invited Father Ignatius to stay at the family seat a few days. The letter joyfully accepting the invitation was read by the brother on his bed of death. It is only right to observe that the present Earl has been the kindest of all, and treated his uncle with distinguished kindness for the few years he was left to him. He even gave him back the portion of his income which his father diverted to other uses.
Another letter he wrote in December, gives an idea of his spirit of resignation. It seems a Rev. Mother wrote to him in a state of alarm that some of the sisters were inclined to go away. Here is a part of his answer: "I will see what I can do with the sisters who are in the mood to kick, bite, or run away. If they take to running, never mind how many go, let them all go, with God bless them, and thank God they are gone, and we will hope their room will be worth as much as their company."
Lest the allusion to his exile from Althorp might be taken in a wrong sense, it is well to give a passage from a letter Father Ignatius wrote after the death of his brother. "I dare say you have not heard that just before my brother's death I had written to him about a case of distress, which he had before been acquainted with, telling him, at the same time, of what I was about, and among other things, that I was going to London to open a mission in Bermondsey on the 10th of January. He sent me £3 for the person I wrote about, and invited me to stop at Althorp a couple of nights on my way, not demanding any positive promise about religion as beforetime, but only saying that he thought I might come as a private friend without seeing it necessary to hold spiritual communications with the people in the neighbourhood. I answered that I would come with pleasure on these terms, and that even if he had said nothing, prudence would dictate to me to act as he wished. This was a most interesting prospect to me, after my twelve years' exile from that home, and I intended to come on the 7th of January. It was only a day or two before my leaving Dublin for this journey, that I was shown a notice in the paper of his death, and the next day had a letter about it from my sister. He must have received my letter on the very day that he was taken ill. These are remarkable circumstances. What will Providence bring out of them?" He felt the death of this brother very much, and was known to shed tears in abundance when relating the sad news to some of his friends. He said very sadly, "I gave myself up to three days' sorrowing for my dear brother Frederick, but I took care to thank God for the affliction."
On the 21st of June, 1858, Father Ignatius began to give short retreats, which he designated "little missions." This was his work the remaining six years of his life; anything else we find him doing was like an exception.
The work proposed in these missions was what has been already described in the chapter on the sanctification of the Irish people. He wanted to abolish all their vices, which he reduced to three capital sins, and sow the seeds of perfect virtue upon the ground of their deep and fertile faith. Since he took up the notion that Ireland was called to keep among the nations the title of Island of Saints, which had once been hers, he could never rest until he saw it effected. He seems to have been considering for a number of years the means by which this should be brought about, and he hit upon a happy thought in 1858.
This thought was the way of impregnating the minds of all the Irish people with his ideas. He found that missions were most powerful means of moving people in a body to reconciliation with God, and an amendment of life. He perceived that the words of the missionaries were treasured up, and that the advices they gave were followed with a scrupulous exactness. Missions were the moving power, but how were they to enter into all the corners of a kingdom? Missions could only be given in large parishes, and all priests did not set so high a value upon their importance as those who asked for them. If he could concentrate the missionary power into something less solemn, but of like efficacy, and succeed in carrying that out, he thought it would be just the thing. This train of deliberation resulted in the "little missions."
A "little mission" is a new mode of renewing fervour; Father Ignatius was the originator and only worker in it of whom we have any record. It was half a week of missionary work in every parish—that is, three days and a half of preaching and hearing confessions. Two sermons in the day were as much as ever Father Ignatius gave, and the hours in the confessional were as many as he could endure.
This kind of work had its difficulties. The whole course of subjects proper to a mission could not be got through, neither could all the penitents be heard. Father Ignatius met these objections. "The eternal truths," as such, he did not introduce. He confined himself to seven lectures, in which the crying evils, with their antidotes, were introduced. As far as the confessions were concerned, he followed the rule of moral theologians that a confessor is responsible only for the penitent kneeling before him, and not for those whose confession he has not begun. He heard all he could.
His routine of daily work on these little missions was to get up at five, and hear confessions all day until midnight, except whilst saying mass and office, giving his lecture and taking his meals. He took no recreation whatever, and if he chatted any time after dinner with the priest, the conversation might be considered a continuation of his sermon. At a very moderate calculation he must have spent at least twelve hours a day in the confessional. Some of these apostolic visits he prolonged to a week when circumstances required. He gave 245 of these missions from June, 1858, to September, 1864; he was on his way to the 246th when he died. A rough calculation will show us that he must have spent about twenty-two weeks every year in this employment. Let us just think of forty journeys, in cold and heat, from parish to parish, sometimes on foot, sometimes on conveyances, which chance put in his way. Let us follow him when he has strapped his bags upon his shoulder, after his mass, walking off nine or ten miles, in order to be in time to begin in another parish that evening. Let us see the poor man trying to prevent his feeling pain from his sore feet by walking a little faster, struggling, with umbrella broken, against rain and wind, dust, a bad road, and a way unknown to add to his difficulties. He arrives, he lays down his burden, puts on his habit, takes some dinner, finishes his office, preaches his first discourse, and sits in the confessional until half-past eleven o'clock. Let us try to realize what this work must have been, and we shall have an idea of the six last years of Father Ignatius Spencer's life.
We give a few extracts from his letters, as they will convey an idea of how he felt and wrought in this great work.
On the 10th of August, 1858, he writes from the convent in Kells, where he was helping the nuns through their retreat:—
"I have an hour and a half before my next sermon at 7; all the nuns' confessions are finished, and all my office said; I have therefore time for a letter. I have not had such an afternoon as this for many months. The people of this town seem to think the convent an impregnable fortress, and do not make an assault upon me in it. If I was just to show myself in the church I should be quickly surrounded. The reflections which come upon me this quiet afternoon are not so bright and joyous as you might expect, perhaps, from the tone of my letter to M ——, but rather of a heavy afflicting character; but all the better, all the better. This is wholesome, and another stage in my thoughts brings me to very great satisfaction out of this heaviness. I do not know whether I shall explain myself to you. I see myself here so alone, though the people come upon me so eagerly, so warmly, and, I may say, so lovingly; yet I have not one on whom I can think as sympathising with me. I see the necessity of a complete radical change in the spirit of the people, the necessity, I mean, in order to have some prospect of giving the cause of truth its victory in England, and making this Irish people permanently virtuous and happy. This is what I am preaching from place to place, and aiming at instilling into the people's minds in the confessional, at dinner-tables, in cars on the road, as well as in preaching; and, while I aim at it, the work is bright enough."
Oct. 11, 1860, he writes:
"I can hardly understand how I can go on for any long time more as I am doing, and not find some capable and willing to enter into them. Here I am through the 112th parish, with the same proposals which no one objects to, but no one enters into nor seems to understand."
May 6, 1861.—
"It seems my lot to be moving about as long as I can move. I am very happy in the work I am about when I am at it, but I have always to go through regret and sorrow before moving, particularly when leaving my home. ... I have now gone through 132 parishes. No movement yet, such as I am aiming at. It always goes on in the form of most interesting missionary work, and is a most agreeable way of doing my begging work. I have been through 123 of these parishes without asking a penny from any one, but they bring me on an average more than £21 a parish in Ireland. I have worked through eleven parishes in the diocese of Salford (England) out of that number, and these do not yield half the fruit of the Irish missions in point of money, but are otherwise very satisfactory.''
In a letter written in December of the same year:
"I am preparing for another year's work like the last, going from parish to parish through Ireland, collecting for our Order, and at the same time stirring the people to devote themselves to their sanctification. They give their money very generously, they listen kindly to my sermons, and I never have a minute idle in hearing confessions; but hitherto there is no attention such as I wish paid to my proposals. I have made these little missions now in 160 parishes in Ireland, and to eleven Irish congregations in England. I am, thank God, in as good plight as ever I was in my life for this kind of work, and this seems to give a hope that I may at length see the effect of it as I wish, or the fruit may spring up when I am dead and buried. If death comes upon me in this way, I will at least rejoice for myself that I am dying more like our Lord than if I finished my course crowned with the most brilliant successes; for when He died people would say He had utterly failed, but He was just then achieving His victory. Whatever way things take we cannot be disappointed if we keep faithful to God."
The lovingness described as subsisting between himself and his dear Irish people gave rise to many incidents, amongst which the following is rather peculiar. At one place, where he had just concluded a little mission, the people gathered round him when he was about to go away. He heard many say, "What will we do when he is gone?" and several other exclamations betokening their affliction at having to part from him. He turned round and asked all he saw to accompany him to the railway station. When they arrived there he addressed them again in something like these words: "Now, stand here until you see the train start, and when it is out of sight, I want you all to say, 'Thank God, he is gone.'"
He met a great many refusals and cold receptions on these missionary tours, but in general he was very well received. The exceptions were dear to him, as they were profitable to himself, and he seldom spoke of them unless there was some special lesson they were calculated to convey.
The work of the little missions kept Father Ignatius very much away from the community. His visits at home were like meteor flashes, bright and beautiful, and always made us regret we could not enjoy his edifying company for a longer time. Those who are much away on the external duties of the Order find the rule a little severe when they return; to Father Ignatius it seemed a small heaven of refreshing satisfaction. His coming home was usually announced to the community a day or two before, and all were promising themselves rare treats from his presence amongst them. It was cheering to see the porter run in, beaming with joy, as he announced the glad tidings, "Father Ignatius is come." The exuberance of his own delight as he greeted, first one, and then another of his companions, added to our own joy. In fact, the day Father Ignatius came home almost became a holiday by custom. Those days were; and we feel inclined to tire our readers by expatiating on them, as if writing brought them back.
Whenever he arrived at one of our houses, and had a day or two to stay, it was usual for the younger religious, such as novices and students, to go to him, one by one, for conference. He liked this very much, and would write to higher Superiors for permission to turn off to Broadway, for instance, on his way to London, in order to make acquaintance with the young religious. His counsels had often a lasting effect; many who were inclined to leave the life they had chosen remained steadfast, after a conference with him. He did not give common-place solutions to difficulties, but he had some peculiar phrase, some quaint axiom, some droll piece of spirituality, to apply to every little trouble that came before him. He was specially happy in his fund of anecdote, and could tell one, it was believed, on any subject that came before him. This extraordinary gift of conversational power made the Conferences delightful. The novices, when they assembled in recreation, and gave their opinions on Father Ignatius, whom many had spoken to for the first time in their life, nearly all would conclude, "If there ever was a saint, he's one."
It was amusing to observe how they prepared themselves for forming their opinion. They all heard of his being a great saint, and some fancied he would eat nothing at all for one day, and might attempt a little vegetables on the next. One novice, in particular, had made up his mind to this, and, to his great surprise, he saw Father Ignatius eat an extra good breakfast; and, when about to settle into a rash judgment, he saw the old man preparing to walk seven miles to a railway station on the strength of his meal. Another novice thought such a saint would never laugh nor make anybody else laugh; to his agreeable disappointment, he found that Father Ignatius brought more cheerfulness into the recreation than had been there for some time.
In one thing Father Ignatius did not go against anticipation; he was most exact in the observance of our rules. He would be always the first in for the midnight office. Many a time the younger portion of the community used to make arrangements overnight to be in before him, but it was no use. Once, indeed, a student arrived in choir before him, and Father Ignatius appeared so crestfallen at being beaten that the student would never be in before him again, and might delay on the way if he thought Father Ignatius had not yet passed. He seemed particularly happy when he could light the lamps or gas for matins. He was childlike in his obedience. He would not transgress the most trifling regulation. It was usual with him to say, "I cannot understand persons who say, 'Oh, I am all right if I get to Purgatory.' We should be more generous with Almighty God. I don't intend to go to Purgatory, and if I do, I must know what for." "But, Father Ignatius," a father would say, "we fall into so many imperfections that it seems presumption to attempt to escape scot free." "Well," he would reply, "nothing can send us to Purgatory but a wilful venial sin, and may the Lord preserve us from such a thing as that; a religious ought to die before being guilty of the least wilful fault." We saw from this that he could scarcely imagine how a religious could do so, or, at least, that he was very far from the like himself.
One time we were speaking about the Italian way of pronouncing Latin, which we have adopted; he noticed some imperfections, and one of the Italian Fathers present remarked a few points in which Father Ignatius himself failed. One of them was, that he did not pronounce the letter r strong enough; and another, that he did not give a its full sound when it came in the middle of a word. For some time it was observed that he made a most burring sound when he pronounced an r, and went so far in correcting himself in the other particular as to sin against prosody. Sometimes he would forget little rubrics, but if any one told him of a mistake, he was scarcely ever seen to commit it again.
Whenever he had half an hour to spare he wrote letters. We may form an idea of his achievements in this point, when he tells us in the Journal that on two days which remained free to him once he wrote seventy-eight. A great number of his letters are preserved. They are very entertaining and instructive; a nice vein of humour runs through all those he wrote to his familiar friends.
These two letters may be looked upon as the extremes of the sober and humorous style in his letter-writing:—
"When I used to call on you, you seemed to be tottering, as one might say, on your last legs. Here you are, after so many years, without having ever seen health or prosperity, and with about as much life in you as then, to all appearance. All has been, all is, and all will be, exactly as it pleases God. This is the truth, the grand truth, I would almost say the whole and only truth. There may be, and are, plenty of things besides, which may be truly affirmed, yet this is the whole of what it concerns us each to know. For if this is once well understood, of course it follows that we have but one affair to attend to, that is, to please God; because then, to a certainty, all the past, present, and future will be found to be perfectly and absolutely ordered for our own greatest good. If this one point be well studied, I think we can steer people easily enough out of all low spirits and melancholy. Many people can see the hand of God over them in wonderful mercy in their past history, and so be brought to a knowledge that their anxieties, and afflictions, and groans, in those bygone days were unreasonable then. "Why do they not learn to leave off groaning over the present troubles? Because they do not trust God to manage anything right till they have examined His work, and understood all about it. But He, will be more honoured if we agree with Him, and approve of what He does before we see what the good is which is to come of it. In your case, if we go back to the days when I first saw you at ——, when your father was in a good way of work, and you were in health, there was the prospect then, I suppose, before you of getting well settled in the world; and if all had continued smooth and prosperous, you might now be a rich merchant's wife in Birmingham, London, or New York, reckoned the ornament of a large circle of wealthy friends, &c. But might there not, perhaps, have been written over you as your motto? Wo to you rich, for you have received your consolation. Wo to you that laugh now for you shall mourn and weep. You may be disposed to answer, you do not think you would have been spoiled by prosperity. But if you are more or less troubled or anxious at being in poverty, sickness, or adversity, it shows that you would be, just in the same measure, unable to bear prosperity and health unhurt. Wealth and prosperity are dangerous to those only who love them and trust in them. If, when you are in adversity, you are sorry for it, and wish for prosperity, it shows love for this world's goods, more or less. And if a person loves them when he has them not, is it likely he would despise them if he had them? God saves multitudes by poverty and afflictions in spite of themselves. The same poverty and afflictions, if the persons corresponded with God's providence and rejoiced in them, would make them first-rate saints. The same may be said, with as great truth, of interior afflictions, scruples, temptations, darkness, dryness, and the rest of the catalogue of such miseries. A person who is disquieted and anxious on account of these, either does not understand that God's gifts are not God, or if they do understand it, they love the gifts of God independently of the giver. And so I add that such a one, if he enjoyed uninterrupted peace and serenity of soul, would stop very short indeed of the perfection of love to which God intends to lead him if he will be docile. Now, as to your case, if you are still alive and still serving God, and desiring to do so better and better, it is clear that your afflictions, exterior and interior, have not spoiled or ruined you. And as God loves our peace and happiness, we may conclude that he would not have kept you down and low, if it had not been necessary for your good. What have you to do at last? Begin again to thank, praise, bless, adore, and glorify God for all the tribulations, past and future, and he may yet strengthen and preserve you to do abundance of good, and lay up a great treasure in heaven."
The next letter is to a nun about a book which was supposed to be lost:—
"The second perpetual calendar has been found. I had no thought it would; but took my chance to ask, and somebody had seen it, and it was looked for again and found. It has been a clumsy bit of business on our part; but it ends right. It gives another example of the wisdom of a certain young shepherdess celebrated in the nursery in my early days—
"There is great philosophy in the advice given to the heroine of these lines.
"It seems by what you said the other day, that you expected a long tail to this sheep, but I don't think the tail ever grew. Any way, it never brought a tail so far as this house. However, if there does exist a tail to it, I recommend to you the calm philosophy of little Bo-peep, and it will, I dare say, follow in time."
The little rhyme given above was a favourite with Father Ignatius. When he saw any one looking for a thing with anxiety he generally rhymed it out with peculiar emphasis. It might be safely said that he never wrote a letter, preached a sermon, or held a conversation without introducing resignation to the will of God, the desire of perfection, or the conversion of England.
As he was always a Superior, the religious could come to him and speak whenever they pleased. He was ever ready to receive them, he laid down his pen, or whatever else he might be at, directly he saw a brother or father wished to speak to him, and he listened and spoke as if this conversation was the only duty he had to discharge.
In recreation he was a treasure. We gathered round him by a kind of instinct, and so entertaining was he that one felt it a mortification to be called away from the recreation-room while Father Ignatius was in it. He used to recount with peculiar grace and fascinating wit, scenes he went through in his life. There is scarcely an incident in this volume that we have not heard him relate. He was most ingenuous. Ask him what question you pleased, he would answer it, if he knew it. In relating an anecdote he often spoke in five or six different tones of voice; he imitated the manner and action of those he knew to such perfection, that laughter had to pass into admiration. He seldom laughed outright, and even when he did, he would very soon stop. If he came across a number of Punch, he ran over some of the sketches at once and then he would be observed to stop, laugh, and lay it down directly, as if to deny himself further enjoyment. It is needless to say there was nothing rollicking, or off-handed in his wit—never; it was subdued, sweet, delicate, and lively. He would introduce very often amusing puzzles, such as passing the poker around, or the game of "He can do little who cannot do that, that, that." Then to see his glee when some one thought he had found out the secret by his keenness of observation, and was far from it; and how he laughed at the denouement of the mystery, when all was over, was really delightful. He often made us try "Theophilus Thistlethwick," and "Peter Piper," and used to enjoy the blunders immensely. In fact, a recreation, presided over by Father Ignatius, was the most innocent and gladsome one could imagine.
He had a few seasons of illness in the closing years of his life; in 1861 he was laid up for several days with a sore foot, in Highgate. When one of us is ill, it is customary for the members of the house to take turn about in staying with him, and we are allowed to go at all times to visit an invalid. Whenever Father Ignatius was asked how his foot was, he would say it was "very well," because it brought him some pain, and that was a valuable thing if we only knew how to turn it to good account. He felt very grateful for the smallest service done him in sickness. It is supposed that he wrote more letters during his illness, and held more "profitable" conversations than in any other equal period of his life. No one ever found him idle. He read, or he wrote, or he talked, or he prayed, or he slept. Lying awake and listless in bed, even when suffering from acute pain, seemed an imperfection to him. Complaint was like a language he had forgotten, or knew not, except as one knows sin by the contrary virtue.
He suffered greatly from drowsiness. When he went to meditation he would nod asleep, and the exertions he made to keep himself awake made us pity him. He would stand up, even sometimes on one foot, extend his arms in the form of a cross, and do everything he could possibly think of in order to keep awake. During his rectorship in Button, after returning from a sick call on a cold winter's evening, he was obliged to walk about saying his office. He dared not sit down, or he would go off asleep, and had to avoid going near a fire, or no effort could keep him awake. Notwithstanding this, he was the first to matins, and seldom went to bed again before prime. When others were ill, Father Ignatius was all charity; he would make sure first that they took their sickness in a right spirit, and thanked God for it, then he would see that all kinds of attention were paid to them. As for sick calls, no matter at what hour of the day or night they came, he would be the first to go out and attend them. He liked assisting at death-beds; he felt particular pleasure in helping people to heaven.
He received all kinds of visitors. He went immediately to see any one that wanted to speak to him, and never kept them a moment waiting if he could possibly help it. When distinguished visitors were coming he did not make the least preparation, but just treated them like any one else. His sister promised to visit him in Highgate in December, 1859. Neither she nor any member of his family had ever been in one of our monasteries; he therefore looked upon this as a kind of event. Father Ignatius had a wretched old mantle, and one of the students went to him to offer him his, which was quite new, for the day. He would not at all accept of it, and lectured the other upon human respect for his pains.
He was very fond of conducting the walk the students take every week. He brought the London students often through the City, and wonderful was his knowledge and reminiscences of the different places they passed by. He took them once to the Zoological Gardens. They went about looking at the different beasts, and he had his comments to make on each. He drew a moral reflection from the voraciousness of the lion, the fierceness of the hyaena, the vanity of the seal, and the stupor of the sloth. When he saw the flamingo, he stayed full ten minutes wondering what might be the use of its long, thin legs. The hippopotamus amused him beyond all. "Look at his big mouth," he would say; "what in the world does he want it for? Couldn't he eat enough with a smaller one?" During their walks, a lord, perhaps, would turn up, and address him as, "Ho, Spencer! is this you? How d'ye do? It is some years since I saw you?" After a few words they would part, and then he'd tell his companions about their college days, or field sports.