The war against the Jesuits in France was approaching its crisis, and the ordinance which deprived them of the liberty of teaching and shut up all their colleges was promulgated just about the time of Father de Ravignan's ordination. Cut off from the privilege of secular instruction, the society resolved to devote itself more zealously than ever to the theological training of its own members. Father de Ravignan was assigned a chair of theology at Saint Acheul, near Amiens; for he was not only a thorough scholar, but he possessed a rare talent for teaching, and according to the testimony of his pupil, Father Rubillon, fully realized "the idea of a professor of theology such as is depicted by St. Ignatius." The poor fathers, however, were not to be left here in peace. In 1829, they received notice to suspend their classes; but Father de Ravignan hastened to Paris, saw the Minister of Public Instruction, and caused the order to be set aside. The next year came the revolution of July. Late in the evening of the 29th, a mob, led by an expelled pupil, attacked the college, burst in gates, and with cries for "The King and the Charter!" "The Emperor!" "Liberty!" and "Down with the priests!" and "Death to the Jesuits!" proceeded to sack the building. While some of the fathers took refuge in the chapel, and others, expecting death, were busy hearing one another's confessions, Father de Ravignan went upon a balcony, and tried to make himself heard by the rioters. He persisted until a stone struck him on the temple, and he was led away bleeding. To what lengths the fury of the mob would have gone it is impossible to say; but fortunately, in the course of their devastation they stumbled into the wine-cellar, and all got drunk. The arrival of a troop of cavalry dispersed the reeling crowd in the twinkling of an eye, and the Jesuits were left to mourn over the ruins. The next day it seemed certain that the attack would be renewed. The college was deserted, and its inmates scattered in different directions, Father de Ravignan being sent to Brigue in Switzerland to resume his courses of theological instruction.
It was not until the close of 1834 that he came back to France. Then we find him once more at Saint Acheul, where, since classes were prohibited, a house had been opened for fathers in their third year of probation. Three years later, he was appointed superior of a new house at Bordeaux. There he remained until 1842.
In the mean time he had entered, imperceptibly, so to speak, upon the great work of his life. He had preached many retreats at different times to his own brethren, and to other religious communities, but had rarely been heard in a public pulpit until, during the Lent of 1835, while he was living at Saint Acheul, he was selected to preach a series of conferences in the cathedral of Amiens. He was forty years of age when he began this apostleship, and he had been withdrawn from the world ever since he was twenty-seven; yet he had not been forgotten. There was a lively curiosity among his old friends to hear him; the members of the bar in particular were constant in their attendance; and the impression produced in Amiens was not only deep, but rich in spiritual fruit. In Advent, he was appointed to preach a similar course at the same place; and in Lent of the next year, we find him preaching in the church of St. Thomas Aquinas, in Paris. Nothing exactly like these conferences and courses of sermons, so common in France, has ever been known to our country, and some of our readers may find it difficult to appreciate the magnitude and importance of the labor in which Father de Ravignan was now engaged. The audiences whom he had to address were not only poor, unlettered sinners, whose consciences needed arousing; to these of course he must speak, but with them came hundreds of the most cultivated and critical listeners, who studied the speaker's language and manner as they would a literary essay or an exercise in elocution. The court, the army, the learned professions, and the leaders of fashionable society crowded around the Lent and Advent pulpits. The appearance of a new preacher was the sensation of the metropolis. The newspapers criticised the performance as they would criticise a play at the theatre. To satisfy the exactions of such an audience as this, and yet to preserve that unction without which preaching is a waste of breath—to please the critical ear, and yet to move the callous heart, required qualifications which few men combined. The most famous of all the series of conferences had been those in the great cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. Father Lacordaire had there roused an extraordinary enthusiasm, and at the height of his fame had abandoned the pulpit and gone to Rome for the purpose of restoring the Dominican order to France. He earnestly desired that Father de Ravignan should be his successor at Notre Dame, and it is interesting to know that it was partly through Lacordaire's agency, that the Jesuit was obliged in 1837 to begin that grand series of discourses, extending over ten years, by which he will be chiefly remembered. "No one could claim to be the apostle of such an assembly as met in Notre Dame," says Father de Ponlevoy,
"unless he were first of all a philosopher. The subject chosen for the first year was accordingly a kind of Catholic philosophy of history, depicting the broad outlines of the struggle between truth and error. This idea is analogous to that which inspired the City of God of St. Augustine; it was carried on in the station of 1838 by an explanation of fundamental doctrines, beginning with the personality and action of God, in opposition to the abstractions of the pantheists, the ill-defined forms of deism and fatalism; proceeding on to liberty, the immortality of the soul and the end of man, against materialism. For all this, it was necessary to go to first principles, to recall slumbering belief to life, and again to establish doctrines which had been corrupted by numberless errors. Some portion of the hearers were from this time forward led to embrace the last practical conclusions, and already F. de Ravignan had some consoling returns to the faith to report. At the end of the station of 1838, he wrote:
"'The attendance has been large and remarkable for the great number of distinguished persons, members of the present and former ministries, peers, deputies, academicians, well known Protestants, foreigners of rank, and a troop of young men.
"'There have been symptoms of approval, sometimes too freely manifested; conversions, a few, but not many. Moreover, no expressions of hostility, either in the newspapers or among the audience. God be praised!
"'I have been forced to have some intercourse with a great many people, and some of them persons of note. M. de Chateaubriand paid me a visit; two interviews were arranged for me with M. de Lamartine; several physicians and men of science have sought to see me; some have been to confession. How many great men there are ignorant of the faith, and sick in mind and heart.
"'God has supported me. I have felt his grace, his help to our society, and the benefit of the prayers offered for my work. I took care that none of the journals should employ short-hand writers, that my words might not be published in a distorted form.'"
From the very outset, Father de Ravignan had contemplated the establishment of an annual retreat by way of a complement to his conferences; but wishing to give his influence time to work before he carried out this plan, he waited until 1841, and then resolved to begin in the small church of the Abbaye-aux-Bois, which with great crowding holds no more than 1000 or 1200 people. Should the attendance be too large for this church, it was arranged that he should remove to St. Eustache. He describes the result of his experiment as follows:
"I gave notice of a retreat for men during Holy Week, only on Palm-Sunday at Notre Dame before the conference; an instruction every evening at eight o'clock till Holy Saturday inclusively. On the Monday evening I went to the Abbaye-aux-Bois about half-past seven. I found an extraordinary crowd, and difficulty in getting places; and there was not a single woman. I had kept them all out. For nearly two hours the whole church had been full, and already a hundred people had gone away unable to get in. I wanted to cross the bottom of the church, but I could not get along. I was recognized, and with great earnestness, but without uproar, I was asked to adjourn elsewhere. I promised to do so. From the pulpit I was struck by this throng of men, almost all young, who filled the doorways, the altars and no disturbance. After having warmly congratulated them, I appointed Saint-Eustache for the next day. Then I bade them all rise for prayer. They all rose like one man. We recited the Veni Creator, and the instruction followed on these words: Venite seorsum et requiescite pusillum—Come aside, and rest a little. I advised them all to remain for benediction. All remained.