When giving a retreat somewhere in midwinter, the shameful carelessness of his entertainers allowed him to sleep in a room where there was neither bed nor fire, and where the snow drifted in under the door. In the morning it occurred to some one that perhaps Father Ignatius had occupied this apartment. "A person ran down to see, and there was the old saint amusing himself by gathering up the snow that came into his room, and making little balls of it for kitten to run after. The kitten and himself seem to have become friends by having slept together in his rug the night before, and both were disappointed by the intrusion of the wandering visitor."
But though the good passionist was utterly forgetful of his "own rights," as the saying goes, he well knew how to administer a rebuke if justice demanded it:
"Once he was fiercely abused when begging, and as the reviler came to a full stop in his froward speech, Father Ignatius quietly retorted: 'Well, as you have been so generous to me personally, perhaps you would be so kind as to give me something now for my community.' This had a remarkable effect. It procured him a handsome offering then, as well as many others ever since."
On another occasion his knock was answered by a very superb footman. Father Ignatius gave his errand and religious name, with a request to see the lady or gentleman of the house. The servant returned in a moment with the information that the gentleman was out and the lady engaged and also unable to help him. "Perhaps she is not aware that I am the Honorable Mr. Spencer," said the mendicant. Mercury bowed courteously and retired. In a minute or two came a rustling of silks and the sound of quick steps tripping down stairs. The lady entered with blush and courtesy and apology. She had not known that it was he, and there were so many impostors. "But what will you take, my dear sir?" she exclaimed, ringing the bell, before he could accept or decline the proposal. Father Ignatius said that he did not stand in need of anything to eat, and that he never took wine; but that he was in need of money for a good purpose, and would be glad to accept anything that she could give him of that kind. The lady instantly handed him a five-pound note, with many regrets that she could not make it more. He took the note, and, folding it carefully away in his pocket, made his acknowledgments after this fashion: "Now, I am very sorry to have to tell you that the alms you have given me will do you very little good. If I had not been born of a noble family, you would have turned me away with coldness and contempt. I take the money because it will be as useful to me as if it were given from a good motive; but I would advise you for the future, if you have any regard for your soul, to let the love of God, and not human respect, prompt your almsgiving." Then taking his hat, he bade his amazed benefactress good morning, and left her to meditate upon purity of intention.
Notwithstanding his fortitude and independence of spirit, we may gather from the following extract from his letters that begging cost him some effo
rt: "My present life is pleasant when money comes kindly; but when I get refused or walk a long way and find everyone out, it is a bit mortifying. That is best gain for me I suppose, though not what I am travelling for. ... I should not have had the time this morning to write to you had it not been for a disappointment in meeting a young man, who was to have been my begging guide for part of the day; and so I had to come home and stay until it is time to go and try my fortune in the enormous market-house, where there are innumerable stalls with poultry, eggs, fruit, meat, etc., kept in great part by Irishmen and women, on whom I have to-day presently to go and dance attendance, as this is the great market-day. I feel when going out on a job like this, as a poor child going in a bathing machine to be dipped in the sea, frissonnant; but the Irish are so good-natured and generous that they generally make the work among them full of pleasure when once I am in it."
These expeditions extended not only through Great Britain, but even to the Continent sometimes. As he was passing through Cologne one day, he met his brother Frederick, then Earl Spencer. At first his lordship looked wonderingly at him, and then, recognizing his features, exclaimed: "Hilloa, George, what are you doing here?" "Begging," was the prompt reply, and then the two fell into a friendly chat about old times.
Strangely enough, the only member of the Spencer family who ever treated Father Ignatius with the least harshness was this favorite brother, who, on succeeding to the title, laid such conditions upon his visiting the family estate that priestly dignity forbade his going home. "Twelve years have I been an exile from Althorp," he said in 1857. But in that same year the earl relented and invited his brother to make him a visit. The letter joyfully accepting this tardy invitation was read by Lord Spencer upon his death-bed. This bereavement was a grievous blow to Father Ignatius.
In 1862 he visited Althorp. The present earl carried out his father's good resolutions to the utmost, and even restored a part of the annuity which had been diverted from Father Ignatius to other objects. Before leaving the community for this visit the religious saw him looking for a lock for one of his bags, and asked why he was so very particular all at once. "Why, don't you know," said he, "that the servant at the big house will open it, in order to put my shaving tackle, brush, and so forth, in their proper places? and I should not like to have a general stare at my beads, sandals, and habit." But fashions had changed at Althorp. When the company who had been invited, especially in his honor, went to dress for dinner, Father Ignatius remarked to the countess that his full dress would perhaps, not be quite in place at the table. "On the contrary," she answered, good-humoredly, "all his old friends would be delighted to see a specimen of the fashions he had adopted since his old days of whist and repartee in the same hall." The volunteers were entertained by the earl during his uncle's visit. The passionist appeared in full costume, and sat next Lord Spencer, whom nothing would satisfy but a speech from the old man's lips. A very patriotic speech it was too, and greeted by a cheer that gave pleasure to both uncle and nephew.