CHAPTER XIX.
Trials And Crosses.
The days of the religious life of Father Ignatius might be numbered by his trials and crosses. It was not that a goodly share fell to him, as became his great holiness; but he happened to be so very keenly tried, that what generally assuages the bitterness of ordinary trials served, by a special disposition of Providence, to make his the more galling. His trials were multiplied in their infliction; the friends to whom he might unburthen himself were often their unconscious cause; and the remedies proposed for his comfort would be generally an aggravation of his sufferings. He had an abiding notion of his being alone and abandoned, which followed him like a shadow, even unto the grave. This feeling arose from his spirit of zeal. He burned to be doing more and more for God's glory every day, and sought to communicate to others some sparks of the flames that consumed himself. His projects for carrying out his ideas seldom met the cordial approval of superiors, and when he received such sanction, it was only after his schemes had been considerably toned down. This restraint he had always to bear.
When his plans were tolerated, or even approved, he could not find one to take them up as warmly as he wished. In fact, he found no second. Catholics have an instinctive aversion to anything that wears the appearance of novelty in their devotions. Father Ignatius's plans for the sanctification of Ireland, the conversion of England, and the perfection all should tend to, were very good things. No one could have the least objection to them; but, somehow, every one could not see his way to working them out. When Father Ignatius proposed the means he intended to adopt, the old Catholic shrugged his shoulders as if he had heard a temerarious proposition. It was new; the good old bishop that gave his life for his flock, or the saintly priest he had listened to from childhood, never proposed such a thing. He never read it in his books of piety, and though it seemed very good, it "did not go down with him." He listened to the holy Passionist, because he reverenced him; but he never encouraged his zeal with more than a cold assent.
Father Ignatius found this want of correspondence to his suggestions in every person even his own brethren in religion failed to be of accord with him. He was perpetually speaking upon his favourite topics, and never seemed satisfied with the work of his fellow-labourers if they did not take up his ideas. He often drew down upon himself severe animadversions on account of this state of mind. When fathers returned to the retreat, tired and wearied after a number of missions, they felt it rather hard to be told that they had done very little, because they had not set about their work in his way. He would be told very sharply that they should wish to see what he had done himself; that his chimerical notions looked well on paper, or sounded nicely in talk; that there was a surer way of guiding people to heaven than talking them into fancies beyond their comprehension. These remarks only served to bring out the virtue and humility of the saintly man. He became silent at once, or turned the conversation into another channel.
He had a still severer trial in this point. He very frequently attributed the caution of his superiors to want of zeal, and used to lecture them without human respect on what he thought to be their duty. On one occasion he went so far as to complain of this to Cardinal Wiseman; but the explanation was so satisfactory that he gave expression to different sentiments for the future. Whenever they spoke positively, he immediately acquiesced, and was most exact in carrying out their injunctions. His zeal was unbounded, and one of his superiors always said: "Father Ignatius will become a saint by the very thwarting of his plans." If he had not the virtue of submitting his judgment, it is hard to say into what extravagances he might rush. This one trial was the staple of his religious life for more than thirty years.
We shall now give a few instances from his letters, and from anecdotes recorded of him, to show the spirit with which he bore this and kindred trials and crosses.
In 1853 he received a very severe letter from one of our Belgian fathers, who is in high repute for learning and virtue. He forwarded the letter to Father Eugene, who was then Provincial, accompanied by these remarks:—
"I thought of answering the enclosed letter from Father —— at once, before sending it to your Paternity; but, on looking it over again, I have changed my mind. The rule which I make for myself is, to mind what my superiors say on this matter and the conversion of England, and to charge them to stop my proceedings if they disapprove of them. I shall take what they say as coming from God, who has a right to dispose of all souls, and who may judge that the time for grace in England is not come, or never has to come. Besides, they are the proper judges whether my proceedings are correct in toto or in part. Your Paternity has lately expressed your mind upon the matter, and I have no scruple on the subject; but it is well you should know what others feel. I beg you to take this letter from Father —— as kindly meant, and, with me, to be thankful for it."
Another to his Provincial:—
"With regard to the principal topic of your Paternity's letter, I will first thank you, and thank God that I am thought worthy to be spoken and written to, without dissimulation or reserve, of what people think of me. If I make use with diligence of their remarks, I shall be able to gain ground in the esteem of God, and, perhaps, also in men's esteem; but that is not of consequence. Now, I suppose it would be best not to have said so much in explanation of my intentions in time past; and certainly I have said things which were vexing in the course of these explanations. It is no justification of this to allege that your Paternity's style of writing admonitions and reproofs is more severe than that of some persons, because I ought to receive all with joy. But the cutting tone of some of your letters excites me to answer more or less in a cutting tone on my side, and I have given way to this temptation. It appears to me, it would be better if with me and others your tone was not so cutting. But God so appoints it for us, and so I had better prefer his judgment to my own, and persevere correcting myself, till I can answer cutting letters with the same gentle, affectionate language as I might the mildest ones. In this way I shall be the greatest gainer. So I will conclude with leaving it to your Paternity to decide in what tone you will correct me—only begging that you will not omit the correction when you see me in the wrong, and that you will inflict it, for charity's sake, at the risk even of suffering pain from my hasty and improper answers, which I cannot expect to correct at once, though I will try to do it. Will you let me meet you at the station when you pass through London, and accompany you to the station for the Dover Railway?"