And so one of the crosses of his life was gently removed, leaving many others, however, to be endured. For a heart so tender, a conscience so sensitive, a temperament so vivid and excitable as his, the world had many trials. His simplicity was mistaken for egotism; his zeal looked to many persons like unbridled impetuosity; his broad sympathies again seemed like indifferentism, and even calumny dared to attack his spotless character.
All this he bore very patiently, but the suffering was often acute. A deep abstraction of manner would come over him at such times, making him quite unconscious of his own actions and of the impression they made upon those around him. One day when he was going through the streets of Rome with a brother religious, they passed a fountain. "He went over and put his hand so far into one of the jets that he squirted the water over a number of poor persons who were basking in in the sun a few steps beneath him. They made a stir, and uttered a few oaths as the water kept dashing down on them. The companion awoke Father Ignatius out of his reverie, and so unconscious did he seem of the disturbance he had unwittingly created, that he passed on without alluding to it."
But whoever might blame Father Ignatius for his projects and his peculiar pertinacity in carrying them into execution, one consoler never failed him. The Holy Father was ever ready to speak with him of the conversion of England, merely requesting him to endeavor to interest persons to pray also for all those separated from the faith in all countries. His Holiness has granted an indulgence of three hundred days to any one who shall say a devout prayer for the conversion of England. The preaching of Father Ignatius was peculiar to himself; he could not be said to possess the gifts of human eloquence in the highest degree, but there was something like inspiration in his most commonplace discourse. He put the point of his sermon clearly before his audience, and he proved it most admirably. His acquaintance with the Scriptures was something marvellous; not only could he quote texts in support of doctrines, but be applied the facts of the sacred volume in such a happy why, with such a flood of new ideas, that one would imagine he lived in the midst of them, or had been told by the sacred writers what they were intended for. Besides this, he brought a fund of illustrations to carry conviction through the mind. His illustrations were taken from every phase of life and every kind of employment; persons listening to him always found the peculiar gist of his discourse carried into their very homestead; nay, the objections they themselves were prepared to advance against it were answered before they could have been thought out. To add to this, there was an earnestness in his manner that made you see his whole soul, as it were, bent upon your spiritual good. His holiness of life, which report published before him—and one look was enough to convince you of its being true—compelled you to set a value on what he said far above the dicta of ordinary priests.
His style was formed on the gospel. He loved the parables and the similes of our Lord, and rightly judged that the style of his divine Master was the most worthy of imitation. So far as the matter of his discourses was concerned, he was inimitable; his manner was peculiar to himself, deeply earnest and touching. He abstained from the rousing, thundering style, and his attempts that way to suit the taste and thus work upon the convictions of certain congregations, showed him that his forte did not lie there. The consequence was, that when the words of what he jocosely termed a "crack" preacher would die with the sound of his own voice or the exclamations of the multitude, Father Ignatius's words lived with their lives, and helped them to bear trials that came thirty years after they had heard him. Toward the end of his life he became rather tiresome to those who knew not his spirit; but it was the tiresomeness of St. John the Evangelist. We are told that "the disciple whom Jesus loved" used to be carried in his old age before the people, and that his only sermon was "My little children, love one another." He preached no more and no less, but kept perpetually repeating these few words. Father Ignatius, in like manner, was continually repeating "the conversion of England." No matter what the subject of his sermon was he brought this in. He told us often that it became a second nature with him; that he could not quit thinking or speaking of it even if he tried, and believed he could speak for ten days consecutively on the conversion of England without having to repeat an idea.
"He got on very well in the missions: he took all the different parts as they were assigned him; but he was more successful in the lectures than in the great sermons of the evening. His confessional was always besieged with penitents, and he never spared himself."
His last mission was given in the beautiful little church of St. Patrick, Coatbridge (eight miles from Glasgow). Crowds came to hear the saintly old father plead for the conversion of England and the sanctification of Ireland. The first two days he heard confessions from six A.M. to eleven P.M., excepting the time needed for devotions and meals. On the third day he remained in the confessional until after midnight. When he came into the house, his host said: "I am afraid, Father Ignatius, you are overexerting yourself, and that you must feel tired and fatigued:' "No, no," he answered with a smile, "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 was in the confessional again at six o'clock in the morning, said mass at seven; breakfasted at half-past eight, and left Coatbridge about nine o'clock. Father O'Keefe remarked to him that he looked much better and younger in secular dress than in his habit. This made him laugh heartily. "When Father Thomas Doyle," he replied, "saw me in secular dress, he said, 'Father Ignatius, you look like a broken-down old gentleman.'" And the frankness of the observation seemed to amuse him immensely.
The rest is easily told. He reached Carstairs Junction at half-past ten, and, leaving his luggage with the station-master, walked toward Carstairs House, the residence of his friend and godson, Mr. Monteith. Half a mile from the entrance to the estate, the long avenue is crossed at right angles by a second, which leads to the grand entrance of the house. Father Ignatius had just passed the "rectangle," when he turned off into a by-path. Then seeing he had lost his way, he asked a child which was the right road. 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! "It was God's will that angels instead of men should surround his lonely bed of death." It was simply by an after-thought that he had gone to Carstairs House to pass the time between the arrival and departure of two trains, and thus died at the threshold of an old friend's door, instead of in the station.
Very tenderly did Mr. Monteith receive the weary burden that the grand old missionary laid down at his gates. The remains lay in religious state at Carstairs House for the greater part of three days. Fathers came from various retreats to look once more upon his beloved face, never so noble as in its last repose; and looked with silent wonder on all that now remained of one whom the world was not worthy of possessing longer. Everyone, 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 burden that was carried.
Lord Spencer's letter with regard to his uncle's death is so pleasing that we transcribe it entire. He was in Denmark, and could not reach England for the obsequies:
Denmark, Oct. 16th, 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 wished to have done, to have attended to the grave the remains of my uncle, if it had been so permitted by your order.