In a letter to Father Joseph about this time, Father Ignatius says:—

"I proceed to say that I have two more moves fixed: for Sunday the 18th, to Port Glasgow; Thursday the 22nd, to Catholic Church, East Shaw Street, Greenock. During the week following I shall suspend missionary work, and make my visit to Mr. Monteith, and re-commence on Sunday morning, October 2nd. I have got two places to go to in Scotland, Leith and Portobello, and I wish to get one more to go to first."

This sentence we put in italics, as it seems to signify a clear foreknowledge of his death. This one other place he did get, and it was Coatbridge, his last mission. His letters, after this, are more confused about his future; it would seem his clear vision failed him. At all events, this much may be gathered from his words, that he knew for certain his dissolution was near, and very probably knew even the day. There is nothing whatever in his plans for the future to militate against this conclusion. The most definite is the following, which we quote from his last letter to Father Provincial, dated from Coatbridge, Sept. 28: "I am going on Saturday to Leith; on Thursday, Oct. 6, to Portobello; on Monday, Oct. 10, to Carstairs (Mr. Monteith's), for a visit and repose." Did he know that repose was to be eternal? He kept to his first arrangement about the visit; but we must hear something about his last little mission.

We subjoin two accounts of this mission. The first was sent us by a gentleman, Mr. M'Auley of Airdrie, who attended the mission, and the next by the Rev. Mr. O'Keefe, the priest.

Mr. M'Auley writes:

"I was witness to his missionary labours for the last five days of his life in this world. On Sunday, the 25th September, Rev. Michael O'Keefe, St. Patrick's Catholic Chapel, Coatbridge (a large village two miles from Airdrie, and eight from Glasgow), announced to his flock that Father Ignatius would open a mission there on the following Tuesday evening at eight o'clock, and close it on Saturday morning, 1st October. Accordingly, the beautiful little church was crowded on Tuesday at eight, when the saintly father made his appearance and addressed the people for upwards of an hour. He gave them a brief outline of his conversion, his different visits to Ireland and the Continent, the grand objects he had in view—namely, the conversion of his country to the Catholic faith, the faith of their fathers; as also, the conversion of Scotland and the sanctification of Ireland. He then showed the power of prayer, and said that the conversion of Great Britain could only be attained by prayer. He said the sanctification of Ireland should begin by rooting out the vices and disorders which prevail. These, he remarked, were drunkenness, cursing, and company-keeping, and that they would form the subjects of his discourses for the three following evenings.

"He then showed the utility of missions, and mentioned that this was his 245th; and closed, as he did on the subsequent evenings, by saying three Hail Marys for the conversion of England, one for the conversion of Scotland, and one for the sanctification of Ireland. Each of the first three was followed by, Help of Christians, pray for us; that for Scotland by, St. Margaret, pray for us; and that for Ireland by, St. Patrick, pray for us. He also mentioned that he had received from his Holiness, Pope Pius IX., an indulgence of 300 days for each Hail Mary said for the conversion of England. On the following four days he said mass every morning at seven o'clock, and, on the three first, heard confessions from six o'clock in the morning until eleven at night, with the exception of the time required for his devotions and meals. On Saturday morning he heard two confessions before mass. I was the last he heard, and I trust the fatherly advice he then gave me shall never be eradicated from my memory."

Father O'Keefe writes:—

"I am just in receipt of your letter, and beg to inform you that I have not words to express the sorrow I feel for the sudden death of the good and holy Father Ignatius. Deo gratias, there is one more added to the Church triumphant. He reached my house about five o'clock on the 27th ult., and left this on Saturday morning at a quarter-past nine o'clock, during which time he enjoyed excellent health. He told me that he was going direct to Leith, to open his little mission there on Saturday night; and thence to Portobello for the same purpose, after he had done at Leith. He also told me that, after finishing his mission at Portobello, he would return home to St. Anne's Retreat. He intended to pay a visit to Mr. Monteith this week. On Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights he had supper at half-past ten o'clock, and then returned to the confessional until about a quarter-past eleven. On Friday night he told me to defer supper till eleven; yet, late though it was, he returned after supper to the confessional, and remained there until a quarter-past twelve. When he came in, I said: 'I am afraid, Father Ignatius, you are over-exerting yourself, and that you must feel tired and fatigued.' He said, with a smile: 'No, no; I am not fatigued. There is no use in saying I am tired, for, you know, I must be at the same work to-night in Leith.' He retired to his room at half-past twelve o'clock, and was in the confessional again at six o'clock in the morning. He said mass at seven; breakfasted at half-past eight; and, as I have already said, left this at a quarter-past nine for the train. On seeing him, after breakfast, in his secular dress, I remarked that he looked much better and younger than in his religious habit. The remark caused him to laugh very heartily. It was the only time I saw him laugh. He said: 'I wish to tell you what Father Thomas Doyle said when he saw me in my secular dress: "Father Ignatius, you look like a {503 } broken-down old gentleman." And he enjoyed the remark very much.'"

The remainder of his life is easily told. He arrived at Carstairs Junction at 10.35 a.m.; came out of the train, and gave his luggage in charge of the station master. He then went towards Carstairs House, the residence of Mr. Monteith. There is a long avenue through the demesne for about half a mile from the station, crossed then at right angles by another, which leads to the grand entrance; this avenue Father Ignatius went by. He had just passed the "rectangle," and was coming straight to the grand entrance, when he turned off on a bye path. He perceived that he had lost his way, and asked a child which was the right one. He never spoke to mortal again.

On a little corner in the avenue, just within sight of the house, and about a hundred paces from the door, he fell suddenly and yielded up his spirit into the hands of his Creator. May we all die doing God's work, and as well prepared as Father Ignatius of St. Paul!

CHAPTER XXI.
The Obsequies Of Father Ignatius.

The divine attribute of Providence to which he was so fondly devoted during life guided him in his last moments. He did not intend to visit Carstairs before the 10th of October, but our Lord, who disposes all things sweetly, had ordained otherwise, by the circumstances. The train he came by was due at the junction at 10.35, and the train for Edinburgh would not start before 11.50. He had more than an hour to wait, and he thought perhaps he might as well spend part of that time at Mr. Monteith's as at the Railway Station; besides he could get a fast train to Edinburgh at 3.0, which would bring him to Leith a few minutes after six, and this would be time enough, as his mission was to commence on the next day, Sunday. Such seems to have been the simple combination of circumstances that directed his steps to Carstairs House, as far as human eye can see. We cannot but admire the dispositions of Providence; had he taken any other train, he might have died in the railway carriage, or at a station. How convenient that he died within the boundaries of the demesne of a friend by whom he was venerated, and to whose house he was always welcome!

And then how remarkable was that other circumstance of his being alone. Servants and workmen were passing up and down the place the whole morning, but at the moment God chose to call his servant, no human eye saw him, and no hand was ready to assist him. On measuring the respective distances from where he had turned off the avenue, to where his body was found, and to the house, it was seen that, had he gone on straight, he would have fallen just on the threshold. It was God's will that angels instead of men should surround his lonely bed of death.

He must have arrived at the spot where his body was discovered about 11 o'clock. A few minutes after, one of the retainers was passing by, and ran at once to the house to give the alarm that a priest lay dead at such a part of the avenue. Mr. Monteith, and Mr. Edmund Waterton, who was on a visit there at the time, were going out to shoot. They laid down their guns, and went in haste to the spot. Monteith did not recognize the features; they were drawn together by the death-stroke. They searched for something to identify him. What was the good man's surprise when he found among the papers of the deceased a letter he had written himself to Father Ignatius a few days before. The truth then flashed across him. It was no other than his own godfather, his constant friend and counsellor, the man whom he venerated so much, Father Ignatius the Passionist. Immediately, a doctor was sent for, the body, which all now recognized, was brought to the nearest shelter, and every available means tried to restore consciousness, but to no effect. Medical examination showed that he died of disease of the heart, and in an instant. The spot whereon he lay bore the impress of his knee, and the brim of his hat was broken by his sudden fall on the left side. As soon as they were certain of life being extinct, the body was brought into the house, the luggage was sent for, a coffin was provided, the secular dress was taken off, and the corpse robed in the religious habit. The sacristy was draped in black, and two flickering tapers showed the mortal remains of a pure and saintly soul, as they lay there in a kind of religious state for the greater part of three days.

Telegrams were sent immediately to our principal houses, and to members of the Spencer family by Mr. Monteith. The shock was great, and not knowing the manner of his death did not serve to make it the less felt. Fathers of the Order went from the different retreats to Carstairs, and arrived there, some on Sunday, and some on Monday morning. Those who went were struck by the appearance of the corpse; the marble countenance never looked so noble as in death, and we looked with silent wonder on all that now remained of one whom the world was not worthy of possessing longer.

About 10 o'clock a sad cortége was formed, and the coffin was carried by the most worthy persons present to the train that conveyed it to Button. Every one on hearing of his death appeared to have lost a special friend; no one could lament, for they felt that he was happy; few could pray for him, because they were more inclined to ask his intercession. The greatest respect and attention were shown by the railway officials all along the route, and special ordinances were made in deference to the respected burthen that was carried.

Letters were sent to the relatives of Father Ignatius by our Father Provincial, and they were told when the funeral would take place. No one came, and those who were sure to come were unavoidably prevented. Lord Lucan had not time to come from West Connaught, and Lord Spencer was just then in Copenhagen. His regard for his revered uncle, and his kindly spirit, will be seen from the following letter, which was published in the newspapers at the time, and is the most graceful tribute paid to the memory of Father Ignatius by any member of his noble family.

"Denmark, Oct. 16, 1864.

"Rev. Sir,—I was much shocked to hear of the death of my excellent uncle George. I received the sad intelligence last Sunday, and subsequently received the letter which you had the goodness to write to me. My absence from England prevented my doing what I should have much wished to have done, to have attended to the grave the remains of my uncle, if it had been so permitted by your Order.

"I assure you that, much as I may have differed from my uncle on points of doctrine, no one could have admired more than I did the beautiful simplicity, earnest religion, and faith of my uncle. For his God he renounced all the pleasures of the world; his death, sad as it is to us, was, as his life, apart from the world, but with God.

"His family will respect his memory as much as I am sure you and the brethren of his Order do.

"I should be much obliged to you if you let me know the particulars of the last days of his life, and also where he is buried, as I should like to place them among family records at Althorp.

"I venture to trouble you with these questions, as I suppose you will be able to furnish them better than any one else.

"Yours faithfully,
"SPENCER."

The evening before the funeral the coffin was opened, and the body was found to have already commenced to decompose. The tossing of the long journey from Scotland and the suddenness of the death caused this change to come on sooner than might be expected. A privileged few were allowed to take a last lingering look at the venerable remains, many touched the body with objects of devotion, and others cut off a few relics which their piety valued in proportion to their conception of his sanctity.

At 11 o'clock on Thursday, October 5th, the Office of the Dead commenced. A requiem mass was celebrated, and the funeral oration preached by the Right Rev. Dr. Ullathorne, Lord Bishop of Birmingham, and particular friend of the deceased. We give the following extracts from an account of the funeral as given by the Northern Press; the Bishop's sermon is taken from the Weekly Register.

At eleven o'clock the solemn ceremonies commenced. The church, which was crowded, was draped in black, and the coffin (on which were the stole and cap of the deceased nobleman) reclined on a raised catafalque immediately outside the sanctuary rails. On each side of the coffin were three wax-lights, and around were ranged seats for the clergy in attendance. Solemn Office for the Dead was first chanted, and amongst the assembled clerics were the following: The Right Rev. Dr. Ullathorne (Lord Bishop of Birmingham); Benedictines: Right Rev. Dr. Burchall (Lord Abbot of Westminster), Very Rev. R. B. Vaughan (Prior of St. Michael's, Hereford), Very Rev. T. Cuthbert Smith (Prior of St. George's, Downside), Very Rev. P. P. Anderson (Prior of St. Laurence's, Ampleforth); the Revds. P. A. Glassbrooke, R. A. Guy, J. P. Hall, and Bradshaw (Redemptorists); the Very Rev. Canon Wallwork, the Rev. Fathers Walmsley, Grimstone, Costello, Kernane (Rainhill), M. Duggan, M.R. (St. Joseph's, Liverpool), S. Walsh (of the new mission of St. John the Evangelist, Bootle); Father Dougall; Father Fisher, of Appleton; Father O'Flynn, of Blackbrook, near St. Helen's; and the priests and religious of the Order of Passionists, who were represented by members of the order from France, Ireland, and England. A number of nuns of the convent of the Holy Cross, Sutton, occupied seats beside the altar of the Blessed Virgin, and with them were about twenty young girls apparelled in white dresses and veils, with black bands round the head, and wearing also black scarfs. When the Office for the Dead had concluded, a solemn Requiem Mass was begun. His Lordship the Bishop of Birmingham occupied a seat on a raised dais at the Gospel side of the altar; and the priests who celebrated the Sacred Mysteries were:—Celebrant— the Very Rev. Father Ignatius (Paoli), Provincial of the Order of Passionists in England and Ireland; Deacon— the Very Rev. Father Eugene, First Provincial Consulter; Sub-deacon—the Very Rev. Father Bernard, Second Provincial Consulter; Master of the Ceremonies—the Very Rev. Father Salvian, rector of St. Saviour's Retreat, Broadway, Worcestershire. The mass sung was the Gregorian Requiem, and the choir was under the direction of the Rev. Father Bernardine (of Harold's Cross Retreat, Dublin, and formerly of Sutton). Immediately after the conclusion of the Holy Sacrifice, the Right Rev. Dr. Ullathorne ascended the pulpit (which was hung in black) and preached the funeral sermon.

His Lordship, who was deeply affected, said:— The wailings of the chant have gone into silence, the cry of prayer is hushed into secret aspiration, and stillness reigns, whilst I lift my solitary voice, feeling, nevertheless, that it would be better for me to weep over my own soul than to essay to speak the character of him who is gone from the midst of us. A certain oppression weighs upon my heart, and yet there rises through it a spring of consolation when I think upon that strength of holiness which has borne him to his end; who, if I am a Religious, was my brother; if a Priest, he was of the Holy Order of Priesthood; but he was also, what I am not, a mortified member of an institute devoted to the Passion of our Lord, who bore conspicuously upon him the character of the meekness and the sufferings of his Divine Master.

My text lies beneath that pall. For there is all that Death will ever claim of victory from him. The silver cord is broken, and the bowl of life is in fragments; and yet this death is but the rending of the mortal frame that through the open door the soul may go forth to its eternity; upon the brink of which we stand, gazing after with our faith, and trembling for ourselves whilst we gain a glimpse of the Throne of Majesty, on which sits the God of infinite purity, whose insufferable light searches our frailty through.

I will not venture to recount a life which would ask days of speech or volumes of writing, but I will endeavour at least to point to some of those principles which animated that life, and were its stay as well as guidance. For principles are like the luminaries of Heaven, or like the eyes that cover the wings of the Cherubs that sustain the Chariot of God in the vision of Ezechiel. They are luminous points planted in the midst of our life, which enable us to see whatever we look upon in a new light, and to enhance the scene of our existence. Listen, then, dearly beloved, and hang your attention on my voice, whilst I speak of him who was once called in the world the Honourable and Rev. George Spencer, a scion of one of the noblest houses of the nobility of this land, but who himself preferred to be called Father Ignatius of St. Paul, of the Congregation of Regular Clerics of our most Holy Redeemer's Passion, a name by which he was loved by tens of thousands of the poor of these countries, and known to the Catholics of all lands.

Father Ignatius was born in the last month of the last year of the last century; at the time when his father was First Lord of the Admiralty. Brought up in the lap of luxury, and encircled with those social splendours that belong to our great families, he was educated as most of our noble youths are; sent early to Eton, and thence to Cambridge. I will not stay to trace his early life. In his twenty-second year he received Anglican orders, and was inducted into the living that adjoined the mansion of his fathers, where, for seven years, he toiled to disseminate to those around him what light of truth had entered his own mind. He himself has recorded that he had about 800 souls committed to his care. And here we begin to see the opening of that genuine purity and earnestness in his character which he developed with time to such perfection. His simplicity of soul and passionate love of truth enabled him to see some of the leading characteristics of truth in its objective nature. He saw that truth was one, and that the Church, which is the depository and the voice of truth, must of necessity be one. He found his parish divided by the presence of the sects of Unitarians, Anabaptists, and Wesleyans. These he sought out, conversed with them, and discussed with them the unity of truth and the authority of the Church. But the more he urged them with his arguments the more he found that they threw him back upon himself, forcing him to see, by the aid of his own sincerity and love of truth, that he stood upon something like the self-same grounds which he assailed in them. The very sincerity with which he read the Gospel; the sincerity with which he prayed; the sincerity with which he strove to penetrate into those duties and responsibilities which then appeared to him to be laid upon his conscience; and his sincere love of souls, drew his own soul gradually and gently towards the one broad horizon of truth and the one authority. He had already, from reading the Gospel, determined on leading a life of celibacy as the most pure and perfect, and to keep himself from the world for the service of his Divine Master. And what effect that resolve had in humbling his heart and bringing down the light and grace of God into his spirit, he himself has told us in that narrative of his conversion which he drew up at the request of a venerable Italian bishop, soon after his conversion. The results, I say, he has told us; he presumes not to point to any cause as in himself.

But whilst yet perplexed between the new light he was receiving, and the resistance of the old opinion which he had inherited, he received a letter from an unknown hand, inviting him to examine the foundations of his faith; this led to correspondence, and so to contact with members of the Church, and the errors which had encompassed him from his birth dispersed by degrees, until at last the daylight dawned upon him, and grew on even to mid-day, and he hesitated not, even for one week, but closed his ministry, and entered into the Church of God and the fulness of peace. Then it was he found that the correspondent who had awakened him to inquire was a lady, who, converted before himself, was then dying in a convent in Paris which she had but recently entered; and he hoped, as he said, to have an intercessor in heaven in one who had so fervently prayed for him on earth.

No sooner had Father Ignatius entered the Church than he put himself with all simplicity and obedience under the guidance of the venerable prelate, my predecessor, Bishop Walsh, who sent him to Rome, there to enter on a course of ecclesiastical studies. In 1830, there we find him in the holy city, imbibing that Apostolic light, and bending himself over the written laws of that truth which was to fit him, not only for the priesthood, but also for a singular call and an unprecedented vocation. Father Ignatius was marked out by the Providence of God for a special apostleship, and he had something about him of the spirit of the prophet and of the eye of the seer. He pierced in advance into the work to which God called him, and there were holy souls who instinctively looked to him as an instrument for the fulfilling of their own anticipations. There was in Italy a Passionist Father, who from his youth had had written in his heart the work of England's conversion. It had been the object of all his thoughts, and prayers, and hopes. Father Dominic had moved all the souls he could with kindred ardour for this work. And before they had ever beheld each other, the hearts of those two men were sweetly drawn together. Let us hear what Father Dominic writes to an English gentleman, himself a convert, ardent for the conversion of his country, on the day of Mr. Spencer's first sermon in Rome, after being ordained deacon:—"On this day," he writes, "on this day, the feast of the Most Holy Name of Jesus, Mr. Spencer begins in Rome his apostolic ministry; to-day, he makes his first sermon to the Roman people in the church of the English. Oh what a fortunate commencement! Certainly that ought to be salutary which commences in the name of the Saviour. Oh, how great are my expectations! God, without doubt, has not shed so many graces on that soul to serve for his own profit alone. I rather believe He has done it in order that he might carry the Holy Name of Jesus before kings, and nations, and the sons of Israel. Most sweet Name of Jesus, be thou in his mouth as oil poured out, which may softly and efficaciously penetrate the hardest marble."

This was written by a man who had never stepped on English soil, about one whom he had never seen in the flesh, but whom he felt to have one common object in one common spirit with himself. But it was written by a man in whose heart God had written in grace the words—England's Conversion.

It was whilst yet a Deacon, that Father Ignatius was visited at the Roman College by a Bishop who had come to Rome from the farthest corner of Italy, who on his soul had also the impression that great conversions were in store for England, and who asked that his eyes might be blessed with so rare a spectacle as that of a converted Anglican minister; and it was at the request of the Bishop of Oppido, for the edification of his flock, to whom the news had reached, that Father Ignatius wrote the narrative of his conversion; the translation of which brings us in view of another of those remarkable men who were then preparing themselves for entering on the work of the English mission, for that translation was done in Rome by Dr. Gentili.

It was under the direction of Cardinal Wiseman, then President of the English College, that Father Ignatius was pursuing his studies, when, at the end of two years, he broke a blood-vessel, and was summoned, in consequence, by Bishop Walsh, to hasten his ordination and return to England. Cardinal Wiseman arranged that he should receive the order of priesthood from the Cardinal Vicar in that very Church of St. Gregory, from which the Apostles of England had been sent to our shores, and that he should say his first mass on the Feast of that Venerable Bede, whose name is so intimately entwined with the literature, the religion, and the history of England. How Father Ignatius himself viewed these signs and his approaching ordination, he himself expressed in a letter to Father Dominic, in these terms: "Ten days ago I received orders from my Bishop, Dr. Walsh, to proceed to England without delay. You know the value and security of obedience, and will agree with me that I ought not to doubt of anything. The first festival day that presented itself for ordination was that of St. Philip Neri. Judge, then, what was my joy when, after that day had been fixed upon, I discovered that it was also the Feast of St. Augustine, the first Apostle of England, sent by St. Gregory. It seems to me that Providence wishes to give me some good omens. It is enough, if I have faith and humility."

Of the grace of humility, that virtue of the heroic virtues which had already taken possession of his heart, I cannot give you better proof than his own communing with the heart of Father Dominic, who had hinted rumours of his rising to ecclesiastical dignities. He writes in reply: "I can assure you it would give me the greatest displeasure. My prayer is that God would grant me a life like that of His Son and the Apostles, in poverty and tribulations for the Gospel. I must submit, if it be His will to raise me to any high worldly dignity; but it would be to me the same as to say that I am unworthy of the heavenly state, which I long for upon earth. Jesus Christ sent the Apostles in poverty. St. Francis Xavier, St. Dominic, and so many other great missionaries, preached in poverty, and I wish to do the same, if it be the will of God."

Here you behold the heart of this ecclesiastic, so young as yet in the Church, yet so mature in spiritual sense. On his return home, he meets his dear friend Father Dominic face to face for the first time, in the diocese of Lucca, and the latter writes to his friend in England:—

"How willingly would I go to England along with dear Mr. Spencer; but the time destined by the Divine mercy for this has not yet arrived. I hope, however, that it will arrive. I hope one day to see with my own eyes that kingdom, which for so many years I have borne engraven on my heart. May God be merciful to us both, that so we may meet together in the company of all our dear Englishmen above in heaven, to praise and bless the Divine Majesty throughout all ages."

I have lingered upon the first communing together of these two men, because it is so instructive to see how it was not merely in the schools, even where religion was studied under the shadow of the successor of St. Peter, but still more by drawing fire from the hearts of saintly men, that Father Ignatius was prepared for his future work. Returned to England, he has left it on record how affectionately he was received by his venerable father and his noble brother, Lord Althorp, then in the midst of his official career as a chief leader of the destinies of his country. Who that remembers those days does not recall the amenities of a character of humanity so gentle and true, that even in the midst of the most intense political strife he embittered no one, and drew on him no personal attack. By his noble relatives, Father Ignatius was received with the old affection, and their entire conduct towards him was an exception indeed to the treatment which so many members of other families have experienced in reward for their fidelity to God and to their conscience. For fifteen years Father Ignatius toiled in the work of the mission in the diocese of Birmingham, generously expending both himself and the private funds allowed him by his family in the service of souls. He founded the mission of Westbromwich, and the mission of Dudley; he raised there churches and schools, and preached and conversed with the poor unceasingly. He was called to Oscott, and a new office was created for him, that of Spiritual Dean, that he might inspire those young men who were preparing for the ministry with his own missionary ardours. The office began with him, and ended when he left the establishment, although unquestionably one of the greatest functions which could be exerted in our colleges would be the office of enkindling in youthful hearts that fire of charity for souls which is the true creator of the missioner. But the time was coming when he was to pass from the ordinary life of a missioner, led in an extraordinary manner, and to pass into that religious congregation where he was to carry out his special mission, his Apostleship of prayer. During those fifteen past years he had not lost sight of Father Dominic. In 1840, that holy man, with the name of England written on his heart, reached Boulogne with a community of his brethren. In the same year he visited Oscott, where those two men of God embraced each other anew; and in the following year the desire and prayer of so many years was realized. The Passionist Fathers were established at Aston, in Staffordshire, with Father Dominic as their head and founder; and whoever will look over the correspondence, so deeply interesting at this moment, which is printed as an appendix to the life of the Blessed Paul of the Cross, will see how great a part the Rev. George Spencer had in the work of bringing the Passionists into England.

It was in the year 1846, that, making a retreat under the Fathers of the Society of Jesus, God revealed to his heart his vocation to join the Passionists, and become the companion and fellow worker with Father Dominic. He cast himself at the feet of that holy man, and petitioned for the singular grace of being admitted to the Order. Their joint aspirations for England had brought them together, and their love of the Cross made them of one mind, and after the first ironic rebuff with which the spirit of the petitioner was tested, I can imagine the smile with which that man of God, so austere to himself whilst so loving to his neighbour, recalled the time, long past, when they wondered if ever they should meet in the flesh face to face. There before him was the man drawn by his prayers into his very bosom, of whom he had predicted, sixteen years ago, that he would carry the name of Jesus for the conversion of England before the kings and nations of the earth. In the Order he was distinguished by his simplicity, his humility, his self-mortification, his patience in suffering, and his obedience. I would gladly dwell on the traits of those virtues which formed his personal character, but time urges me to proceed. He filled successively the office of Consultor, of Novice-master, and of Rector, and it was to him that Father Dominic provisionally consigned his authority at his death. But his great and singular work was his Apostleship of prayer for England. Many had been the questionings in many hearts, as to whether this country would ever in any serious numbers return to the faith or not. And many had been the speculations as to how this could be accomplished; some dreamt it must come by missions; others, by learned writings; others, by the preaching of the Gospel; some had one scheme, some another, but in each there was something defective, something not altogether divine; something that was human, and resting more or less on the will of man. But Father Ignatius consulted the light and grace of his own soul, he penetrated to the true principle, he recalled his own history, he saw that conversion is the work of God, that the work itself is the work of grace, and that all that man can do, is to invoke God to put forth His power. Prayer that is pure, sincere, earnest, and of many souls, God always hears and inclines to grant. There are many ways of approaching to God, but there is one which He loves for its tender alliance with the Divine Humanity, for its humility and its beautiful faith, and that is the approach through her who is at once the Virgin Mother of God and ours. Let us plead to God through the Mother of God, and let her plead for her sons on earth to her Son in Heaven, and behold our prayer is tripled in its strength. So Ignatius looked to God through the eyes of Mary, prayed to God through the heart of Mary, and appealed through the purity of Mary, for a people who had forgotten her. And he went forth on his Apostleship of prayer over Italy and France, and Hungary and Austria, and the rest of Germany; and over Belgium and England, and Ireland and Scotland, and he corresponded with the other kingdoms of Christendom. He went before emperors and kings, and before ministers of state, and asked them to pray for the conversion of his country. He sought the Bishops in their dioceses, and the priests in their parishes, and holy religious in their convents, and devout lay persons in their houses, and prayed them to pray to God, and to set other souls to pray for the conversion of England. His faith was strong that from her conversion a great radiation of truth would spread forth in the world, and that all that was needed was the general prayer of believing souls, that God might grant so great a grace to the world. And so the name of Father Ignatius grew familiar on the lips of Christendom. Prayer arose in many countries; the Bishops issued pastorals, a day in the week was appointed for prayer for England. Prelates spoke of it in synods, and the clergy discussed it in their conferences. And all pious souls added on new prayers to their habitual devotions for the conversion of England. And as for the apostle of this prayer, he went on nourishing the flame which he had enkindled, and stirring the zeal of his brethren until, to use his own words, often repeated to his superior, this prayer, and the preaching of this prayer to God through Mary, had become a part of his nature, an element inseparable from his existence. He had but recently recommenced the work of this mission in a somewhat altered form, basing the conversion of the English upon the sanctification of the Irish people, but still his cry was—Pray for England. There can be no doubt, as sundry facts point out, but that he had a strong impression of late that his end was drawing near. And not long before his death he called the brethren individually to his room, and exhorted each with solemn earnestness to be instant in the mission of prayer for England.

And what has been the result of this Apostleship? That result Father Ignatius himself summed up but a few days before his death. On the 8th of September, he addressed a letter to an Italian periodical, from which I translate the following passage as the fit conclusion of this subject. He says:—

"It is more than thirty-four years since a worthy Bishop of a Neapolitan diocese came to seek me in the English College at Rome, wishing to look with his own eyes upon a converted Anglican clergyman; a sight so grateful to a noble Catholic heart, and in those days so rare. On what proof he spoke, I know not, but he assured me that the first Carmelite Scapular ever given, and given by that English Saint, Simon Stock, was secretly kept in England, and that he looked on this as a pledge that our country would one day come back to the faith. Be this assertion well or ill founded, the memory of him who made it is dear to me as is the memory of the presence of every one who bespeaks hope and peace for England.

"What have we seen in our days? Conversions to the faith so numerous and so important that the whole world speaks of them. And this movement towards Catholicism is of a character so remarkable, that the history of the Church presents nothing like it.

"It is true that other nations have been converted, whilst England has stood to her Protestantism; but a first step has been made in this country, which, as far as I know, has no parallel. In other cases, it was the sovereign who made the first movement, having had no learned opposition or persecution from his subjects; and, as in the instance of St. Stephen, of Hungary, the conversions which followed came easily, and as it were naturally; or conversion began with the poor, who, though it cost them persecution and privation, had yet but little to lose. But this has not been the case in England. Here the work of conversion grew conspicuous among the ministers of the Protestant Church, of whom hundreds of the most esteemed and learned have been received into the bosom of the Church, and also among the noble and the gentle families of the kingdom; so that it may be said that scarcely is there a family that is not touched by conversion, in some near or more distant member of it. I say that this order of conversion is new, this operation of grace is most singular. Great numbers of those clergymen had prospects before them by remaining in Protestantism, flattering enough, of earthly felicity, wealth, and honour; and by their conversion they fell upon poverty, distress, and contempt, especially those men who, by reason of their families, could not embrace the clerical state. The sacrifices of the lay gentry have not always been so great; but even here how many have closed against themselves the path of honours and distinctions; how many have been discarded by their kindred and friends; how many of the gentle sex have abandoned the prospect of a settlement in life befitting their rank and station; while all have turned from the world to obey the voice of God; and that, in a country like this, where the world holds out allurements so specious and so attractive in every kind.

"But these great results can neither be attributed to the force, the eloquence, or the industry of man. Man has positively had no part in the work, except by prayer, and this praying has been professedly offered to God through Mary; through whom all the heresies of the world are destroyed."

I have no time to dwell upon this summary of results so beautifully told and so remarkably timed. But it is impossible not to notice that the great tide of conversion that has flowed so unusually, has passed through the two classes to which Father Ignatius himself belonged, that of the clergy and that of the gentry. It is a wonderful result following a most unprecedented combination of the voices of Catholic souls of many nations in prayer, set in motion by the very man who is summing up the result of the work, before he goes to his reward; nor do I believe, although his tongue is silent, and his features settled into cold obstruction, as we looked on them last night, that the prayer of his soul has ceased; no, his work goes on, his Apostleship is not dead. Purged by the sacrifice, I seem to see his spirit all this time. For you know that when a holy man quits this life, and has not loved it as he has loved God, he goes away no further than God, and God is very near to us. Have you never lost a dear parent or a child, and have you not found that when freed from the body the spirit of that one had more power over you; seemed to be freer to be with you at all solemn times, and to impress you with its purely spiritual qualities and virtues, all gross things having ceased though the purification of death and the final grace? and so I conceive his spirit standing by my side and saying still, at each interval of my voice,—"Pray for England: pray for her conversion." To you, fathers of the rude frieze, brethren of his Order, with the name of Christ on your breast, and the love of His passion in your heart, he says—"Pray for England: pray for her conversion." Superiors of the Benedictine Order, whom a special circumstance has brought here to-day, Father President-General, representative of St. Benedict, as of St. Augustine, and monastic successor of that first Apostle of England, to you, and to you, Priors of the Order, he says— "Fail not from the work of your forefathers, pray for England: pray for her conversion." To you, brethren of the priesthood, men consecrated to this mission, who know his voice familiarly, to you he says with the burning desire of his heart,—"Pray for England: pray for her conversion." Daughters of the virginal veil, who are his children, whilst in the inferior soul you suffer the grief of loss, in your superior soul you rejoice that he is with God; to you also he says:—"Pray for England: pray for her conversion." Dearly beloved brethren, how often in his missions and his ministries has he written those words upon your hearts. Let them not die out. Let them live on with something of his flame of charity. Be you as his missioners; carry these words to your children and your brethren. He prays yet, and will ever pray until the work be finished. Even in the presence of his God, neither the awe nor the majesty of that unspeakable presence can I conceive as interrupting the prayer which has become a portion of his nature—"God, have mercy on England. Turn, O Jesus, Thy meek eyes upon that people. Let pity drop from Thy glorious wounds, and mercy from Thy heart. In what she is blind, in what she sins, forgive her, for she knows not what she does. Have mercy on England." When joined to his beloved Dominic, and with blessed Paul, and meeting Gregory, and Augustine, and Bede, I conceive him urging them to join yet more earnestly with the prayers he left ascending from the earth, following his mission still in the heavens; nay, even pressing to be heard in the circles of the angels, whose meekness and purity he loved so well, and still his cry is: "Pray for England: pray for her conversion."

It remains for us to turn one last look upon his mortal remains, to consider our own mortality, and to prepare us for our approaching end. How beautiful, how sublime was his departure. Father Ignatius had often wished and prayed that, like his Divine Lord, like St. Francis Xavier, and like his dear friend and master in the spiritual life, Father Dominic, he might die at his post, yet deserted and alone. God granted him that prayer. He had just closed one mission and was proceeding to another; he turned aside for an hour on his way to converse with a dear friend and godson; he was seen ten minutes before conversing with children. Was he only inquiring his way, or did he utter the last words of his earthly mission to those young hearts? And here alone, unseen but of God and His angels, he fell down, and that heart which had beaten so long for the love and conversion of England stopped in his bosom. Crucified was he in his death as in his life to this world, that he might live to God.

When his lordship, the Bishop, descended from the pulpit, the procession to the place of burial was formed, and issued from the church in the following order, the choir singing the Miserere:—

The Children of the Schools of the Convent of the Holy Child.

The Rev. Father Bernard (Superior of the Order of Passionists, Paris), carrying a Cross, and having on each side an Acolyte, bearing a lighted candle.

The Thurifer.

Boys two abreast.

The Regular Clergy.

The Secular Clergy.

THE COFFIN.

The Lord Bishop of Birmingham.

The Laity.

As the melancholy cortége moved along, the clergy chanted the Miserere, and when the procession arrived at the vault, the coffin (which was of deal) was placed inside a leaden one, which was again enclosed in an outer shell of oak. Upon this was a black plate, bearing the following inscription:—

FATHER IGNATIUS OF ST. PAUL

(THE HON. AND REV. GEORGE SPENCER)

DIED OCT. 1, 1864, AGED 65 YEARS.

R. I. P.

Placed inside the coffin was a leaden tablet, on which the following was engraved:—

"MORTALES EXUVIAE

"Patris Ignatii a S. Paulo, Congregationis Passionis, de Comitibus Spencer. Minister Anglicanus primum; dein, ad Ecclesiam Catholicam conversus, sacerdotio Romae insignitus est anno 1832. Mirum, qua animi constantia per triginta et amplius annos pro conversione patriae laboraverat. Inter alumnos Passionis anno 1847 adscriptus, omnium virtutum exemplar confratribus semper extitit. Angliam, Hiberniam, Scotiam, necnon Italiam, Germaniam, et Galliam peragravit, populum exhortans ad propriam sanctificationem, et ut, veluti sacro agmine inito, preces fundant pro conversione Anglise. Dum perjucundum opus in Scotia prosequeretur, calendis Octobris anni 1864, sacrificio missae peracto, ad invisendum antiquae consuetudinis amicum (Dom. Robertum Monteith) pergens, ante januam amici repentino morbo correptus, a Deo cujus gloriam semper quesierat et ab angelis quorum puritatem imitaverat, opitulatus, supremam diem clausit, aetatis suae anno 65to. Requiescat in pace."

TRANSLATION.

The mortal remains of Father Ignatius of St. Paul, belonging to the Congregation of the Passion, and of the noble family of Spencer. He was at first an Anglican minister; then, having been converted to the Catholic Church, was ordained into the priesthood at Rome in the year 1832. It is wonderful with what constancy of mind for more than thirty years he laboured for the conversion of his country. He was numbered among the sons of the Passion in the year 1847, and always presented an example of all virtues to his brethren. He travelled through England, Ireland, Scotland, and even Italy, Germany, and France, exhorting the people to their own sanctification, and forming themselves, as it were, into a sacred army, to pour forth prayers for the conversion of England. While he was prosecuting his pleasing work in Scotland, on the 1st of October, 1864, and, having offered up the sacrifice of the mass, he was going on a visit to a friend he had long been acquainted with (Mr. Robert Monteith), when he was carried off by sudden death in front of his friend's door, being assisted by God, whose glory he had ever sought, and by the angels whose purity he had imitated. He closed his life in the 65th year of his age. May he rest in peace."

When all the arrangements were completed, the coffin was placed upon the tier appropriated for its reception, and the bishop and clergy retired.

Thus has ended the life of one who for fifteen years pursued his missionary work, as a priest of the Order of the Passion, with an ardour that has seldom been surpassed. Truly may it be said of him, "Dying, he lives."

Favours are said to have been obtained from heaven through his intercession, since his death; and it is even recorded that miracles have been performed by his relics. These facts have not been, as yet, sufficiently authenticated for publication; and, therefore, it is judged better not to insert them. We confidently hope that a few years will see him enrolled in the catalogue of saints, as the first English Confessor since the Reformation.

Every step we make, as we recede from this last scene, brings us nearer to the moment when the requiescat ought to be heard over ourselves. For