"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.