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—
"'Little Bopeep
Has lost her sheep,
And doesn't know where to find them.
Let them alone,
And they'll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.'
"There is great philosophy in the advice given to the heroine of these lines.