{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_51370/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_51370","id":"gutenberg_51370","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51370","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: History - Religious","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Passionists","Spencer, George, 1799-1864"],"text":"Life of\nFather Ignatius of St. Paul,\nPassionist.\n\n\n\n{i}\n\n{ii}\n\n[Picture and autograph of Fr. Ignatius]\n\n{iii}\n\n\nLIFE OF\n\n_Father Ignatius of St. Paul,_\n\nPASSIONIST\n\n(The Hon. & Rev. George Spencer).\n\n_Compiled chiefly from his_\n\nAutobiography, Journal, & Letters.\n\nBY\n\nThe Rev. Father Pius A Sp. Sancto,\n\nPassionist.\n\n\n\n\nDUBLIN:\n\nJames Duffy, 15, Wellington Quay;\nAnd 22, Paternoster Row, London.\n\n1866.\n\n[The right of translation is reserved.]\n\n{iv}\n\nCox And Wyman,\n\nClassical and General Printers,\nGreat Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields, W.C.\n\n{v}\n\n_To the Very Reverend_\n\nFather Ignatius Of The Infant Jesus,\n\nPassionist,\n\nLong The Director Of Father Ignatius Of St. Paul,\n\nFor Nine Years The Faithful Steward Of The Anglo-Hibernian\n\nProvince, Which He Found A Handful And Made A Host,\n\nThis Volume,\n\nWritten By His Order And Published With His Blessing,\n\nIs Dedicated,\n\nTo Testify The Gratitude All His Subjects Feel, And The Most\nUnworthy Of Them Tries To Express,\n\nBy His Paternity's\n\nDevoted And Affectionate Child,\n\nThe Author.\n\n{vi}\n\n{vii}\n\nPreface.\n\n\nGreat servants of God have seldom been understood in their lifetime.\nPersecution has assailed them often, from quarters where help would be\nexpected in their defence. Even holy souls are sometimes mistaken\nabout the particular line of virtue which distinguishes their\ncontemporaries from themselves. St. John of the Cross, St. Joseph\nCalasanctius, and St. Alphonsus Liguori, have had the close of their\nlives embittered, as we might call it, by domestic persecution; and it\nwas some time before their splendour, as they vanished from the\nhorizon of life, rose again to its zenith, and outshone its former\nglory. If the impartial eye, with which we read their actions, fails\nto find a plea for the manner they have been dealt with, let us\nremember that we have no interests at stake--no false colouring of\npassion to blind us. Death, indeed, does not always mow down mistaken\nnotions with the life of him about whom they are taken up. We must,\nhowever, be thankful that it slays so many {viii} wrong impressions,\nand attribute the residue to other causes.\n\nJustice to the dead is an impulse of nature; and those who would\nqualify praise of the living by the mention of unworthy actions or\ninferior motives, will qualify blame of the dead by a contrary\nproceeding. This instinct has its golden mean as well as every other.\nIf an ancient Greek ostracised a man because he was praised by every\none, many moderns will defend a man because he is similarly blamed.\n\nWhenever there exists a difference of opinion about a man during life,\nit requires some length of time after he has departed, for prejudice\nto settle to the bottom, and allow his genuine character to be seen\nthrough clearly.\n\nThese facts, and the experience of history, lead us to conclude that a\nman's life cannot be impartially written when his memory is yet fresh\nin people's minds. Thousands have had opportunities of judging, and\nbring their impressions to compare them with the page that records the\nactions from which they were taken; and if they be different from the\nidea the biographer intends to convey, it is not probable that, in\nevery case, their possessors will be content to lay them aside. It is\nsupposed, moreover, that a biographer owes a kind of vassalage to his\nsubject--that he is obliged to defend him through thick and {ix }\nthin--in good and evil report. He is obliged, according to\ntraditionary, though arbitrary laws, to suppress whatever will not\ntell in his favour, to put the very best face upon what he is\ncompelled to relate, and to make the most of excellencies. His\nopinion, therefore, must be received with caution, for it is his duty\nto be partial, in the most odious sense of that word, and it would be\na capital sin to deviate from this long-established rule.\n\nThese difficulties do not beset the life that is here presented to the\npublic. Father Ignatius had his alternations of praise and blame\nduring life; but those who thought least of him were forced to admit\nhis great sanctity. If this latter quality be conceded, apology has no\nroom. An admitted saint does not require to be defended; for the\n_aureola_ of his own brow will shed the light through which his\nactions are to be viewed. We see, therefore, no wrong impressions that\nrequire to be removed--no calumnies that have to be cleared\naway--nothing, in fact, to be done, except to give a faithful history\nof his life. For this reason, we venture to publish this work before\nthe second anniversary of his death; and it would have been published\nsooner, if the materials from which it is composed could have been\narranged and digested.\n\nAgain, he was heedless of the praise or blame of {x} men himself, and\nit would be an injustice to his memory to wait for a favourable moment\nfor giving his thoughts publicity.\n\nThose who expect to find nothing in the lives of holy people but\ngoodness and traits of high spirituality, will be disappointed when\nthey read this. Those who are accustomed to read that some saints\nindeed have lived rather irregularly in their youth, but find\nthemselves left in blessed ignorance of what those irregularities\nwere, will also be disappointed. They shall find here recorded that\nyoung Spencer was not a saint, and they shall be given data whereon to\nform their own opinion too. They shall see him pass through various\nphases of religious views, and shall find themselves left to draw\ntheir own conclusions about his conduct throughout.\n\nAnd now, perhaps, it is better to give some reasons why this course\nwas adopted in writing his life, rather than the usual one. Besides\nthat already given, there are two others.\n\nIn the first place, ordinary, well-meaning Christians feel\ndisheartened when they find saints ready to be canonized from their\ninfancy, and cannot think of the Magdalenes when they find the\ncalendar full of Marys, and Agneses, and Teresas. Neither will they\nreflect much on an Augustin, when the majority are Sebastians and\nAloysiuses. Here is an example to help these people on; and they are\nthe greater number. {xi} We have therefore shown Father Ignatius's\nweak points as well as his strong ones; we have brought him out in his\nwritten life precisely as he was in reality.\n\nHe comes before us with a mind full of worldly notions, he traces his\nown steps away from rectitude, he makes his confession to the whole\nworld. How many will see in the youth he passed, far away from God and\ngrazing the edge of the bottomless precipice, a perfect illustration\nof their own youth. Let them then follow him through life. They shall\nfind him a prey to the worst passions, anger, pride, and their kindred\ntendencies. They shall see him put his hand to the plough, and,\naccording to the measure of his grace and light, subduing first one,\nand then another of his inclinations. They can trace his passage\nthrough life, and see that he has so far overcome his passions that an\nequivocal warmth of temper is a thing to be wondered at in him. There\nis a servant of God that gives us courage, we need not despond when he\nleads the way for us. Occasional imperfections are mentioned towards\nthe latter part of his life. These only show that he was a man and not\nan angel, and that a defect now and again is not at all incompatible\nwith great holiness.\n\nThere was a reality about the man that can never leave the minds of\nthose who knew him. He hated shams. He would have the brightest\nconsequences of {xii} faith realized. He would not have the Gospel\nlaws be mere matter of sentimental platitudes, but great realities\npervading life and producing their legitimate effects. He went into\nthem, heart and soul; and the few points in which he seemed to go this\nside or that of the mean of virtue in their observance, we have\nrecorded, that others may see how he observed them. Exceptions show\nthe beauty of a rule; and this is the second reason why we have\nwritten as a historian and not as a panegyrist.\n\nAnd now for an account of the materials from which the memoir has been\ncompiled. He wrote an account of his life about the year 1836. He was\nthen on a bed of sickness from which he scarcely expected to rise; but\nwe shall give his own reasons for writing what he has written. The\nautobiography begins thus:--\n\n  \"When a man comes before the world as an author, there is much\n  danger of his being actuated by motives of which he does not like to\n  acknowledge the influence, and people are so naturally disposed to\n  suspect the motive to be something different from that which ought\n  to be the leading one of all our important actions, and especially\n  of those which are possessed by our religious actions; namely, the\n  honour of God, and our own neighbour's good; that the common preface\n  to such works is, to guard the author against the imputation of\n  vanity or of self-love, in some one {xiii } or other of the\n  contemptible forms in which it rules so widely in this poor world of\n  ours. Such introductory apologies, on the part of an author, will not,\n  I believe, meet with full credit with those who know the world.\n  Those who are most obviously the slaves of self-will, will,\n  generally, be loudest in their protestations of the purity and\n  excellence of their motives; so that my advice to those who wish to\n  establish in the minds of others a good opinion of their sincerity,\n  would generally be, to say nothing about it, and let their conduct\n  speak for itself. Yet this is not what I intend to do in the\n  commencement of my present work. What I have undertaken is, _to give\n  to the public_ a history of my own mind. I shall make it my study to\n  recollect with accuracy and to state with truth the motives, the\n  impressions, and the feelings by which I have been guided in the\n  important passages of my past life; and therefore there seems to be\n  some peculiar reason, from the nature of the work itself, why I\n  should commence by stating why I have undertaken it. Yet I will not\n  venture to say positively what are my motives. I rather shall state,\n  in the sight of God and of my brethren, what are the motives which I\n  allow myself to entertain in deliberately presenting a history of my\n  thoughts _to the public_. My readers are at liberty to judge me in\n  their own way, and suppose that I deceive myself in the view I take\n  of my own intentions as much or as little as to them shall seem\n  probable. Of this {xvi} which, have obliged me to leave my flock to\n  the care of others, while my proper business is to be, for a time,\n  to recover my health by rest and relaxation. Here then is an\n  opportunity for undertaking something in the way of writing; and I\n  am about to make what I conceive is the most valuable contribution\n  in my power to the works already existing for the defence of our\n  Holy Faith.\n\n  \"I have not the knowledge requisite for producing a learned work,\n  nor am I ever likely to acquire it. A work of fancy or invention is,\n  perhaps, yet further out of my line. I never had any talent for\n  compositions in which imagination is required. I hardly ever wrote a\n  line of poetry except when obliged to it at school or college. But\n  it requires neither learning nor imagination to give a simple\n  statement of facts, and there is a charm in truth which will give to\n  a composition, which bears its stamp, an interest more lively,\n  perhaps, than what the beauties of poetry and fiction are employed\n  to adorn.\n\n  \"I believe the history of the human mind must always be interesting.\n  If the most insignificant of men could but be taught to write a\n  correct account of what has passed within his soul, in any period of\n  his existence, the history would be full of wonders and instruction;\n  and if, with God's help, I am able to fulfil my present undertaking,\n  and to give a picture of my own mind and heart, and recount, with\n  truth and {xvii} perspicuity, the revolutions which have taken place\n  within me, I have no doubt the narrative will be interesting. The\n  minds and hearts of men are wonderfully alike one to another. They\n  are also wonderfully various. Read the history of my mind and you\n  will find it interesting, as you know a book of travels is, through\n  countries which you have visited. You will see your own heart\n  represented to you, and be, perhaps, pleasingly reminded of the\n  feelings, the projects, the disappointments, the weaknesses of days\n  gone by. But I have a greater object before me than your amusement.\n  I desire your instruction. I may, perchance, throw on some passage\n  of your history, on some points of the great picture which a\n  retrospect of your past life presents to you, a more correct light.\n  I may show you where your views of things might have often been more\n  true than they were at the time, when your steps might have been\n  more prudently, more happily taken, and by the consideration of\n  mistakes and errors which I have afterwards acknowledged, though\n  once blind to them, and from which I have recovered through the\n  goodness of God, you may be assisted to take some steps forwards in\n  the path of truth and happiness.\n\n  \"I do not, however, propose to myself the benefit of others only in\n  this composition. The noblest and the most useful study of mankind\n  is man; but, certainly, this study is in no way so important as when\n  it {xviii} is in the contemplation of ourselves that we follow it\n  up. It is a high point of wisdom to know and understand other men;\n  but we know nothing that will indeed avail us if we know not\n  ourselves. Hence, while I am undertaking a history of myself for the\n  instruction of others, I purpose, at the same time, and in the first\n  place, to gain from my researches instruction for myself. In now\n  recollecting and declaring the doings of God towards me, and my\n  doings towards Him, I most earnestly desire an advancement in myself\n  of love and humility; would that it might be an advancement in\n  perfection! I began this work with fervent prayer that I may be\n  preserved from the snares with which it may be accompanied; above\n  all, that I may not make it an occasion of vain-glory, and so turn\n  what ought to be done for God's service and for others' good into an\n  offence of God and my own exceeding loss; but that, being delivered\n  from the danger, I may find it the occasion of exceeding spiritual\n  benefit to myself, if it be not to any others.\"\n\nThe reader must take what Father Ignatius writes of himself with some\nqualifications. He seems to have had an invincible propensity to put\nhis worst side out in whatever he wrote about himself. He did not see\nhis own perfections, he underrated his knowledge, his mind, his\nvirtues. He saw good in every one except himself. But it is needless\nto speak much on {xix} this point, as his candour and simplicity are\nsure to make every reader favourable.\n\nIt is to be regretted that the autobiography does not reach farther\ninto his life than his ordination as a minister. How gratifying it\nwould have been if we could read his interior conflicts, his exterior\ndifficulties, his alternations of joy and sadness, in the sweet,\naffectionate style which tells us his early life. But the reason must\nhave been:--He had little to charge himself with; he had no faults\nserious enough to lower him in the esteem of men from that time\nforward, and therefore he did not write.\n\nThe next source of information is his journal. He began to keep a\njournal in 1818, when he first went to Cambridge, and continued it\nuninterruptedly down to 1829, a short time before his conversion. We\nhave found nothing in the shape of a diary among his papers, from that\ntime until the year 1846, a few months before he became a Passionist,\nexcept a journal of a tour he made on the Continent in 1844, and that\nis given entire in the third book. The journal from 1846, until a few\ndays before his death, is a mere record of dates and places in which\nhe has been and persons he spoke to. It is so closely written that it\nis scarcely readable by the naked eye, and he gives in one page the\nincidents of six months. This journal was of great use to him. It\nhelped his memory and prevented his making mistakes in the multitude\nof scenes through {xx} which, he passed. It is also a valuable\ncontribution to the annals of our Order.\n\nBesides these two sources of information regarding his life, we have\nhad access to a multitude of letters, running over the space of\nupwards of forty years. He preserved a great many of the important\nletters he received; and several of his friends, who preserved letters\nreceived from him as treasures, kindly lent us their stock for the\npreparation of this volume. His Eminence the late Cardinal Wiseman\ngave us what letters he possessed, and promised to contribute some\nrecollections of his friend, but was prevented by death from\nfulfilling his promise. Our thanks are due to their Lordships, the\nRight Rev. Dr. Ullathorne, the Right Rev. Dr. Wareing, the Right Rev.\nDr. Turner, the Right Rev. Dr. Grant, the Right Rev. Dr. Amherst, and\nto several clergymen and lay persons, for their kindness in sending us\nletters and furnishing us with anecdotes and pleasing recollections of\nFather Ignatius. Among the latter we are under special obligations to\nMr. De Lisle and Mr. Monteith. In truth we have found all the friends\nof Father Ignatius most willing to assist us in our undertaking. Nor\nmust we forget several religious who have helped us in every possible\nway. The information gathered from the correspondence has been the\nmost valuable. His letters were written to dear friends to whom he\nlaid the very inmost of his soul open,--fervent souls, who sympathized\n{xxi} with his zealous exertions and profited by his advice in\nadvancing themselves and others in the way of virtue.\n\nThe Dowager Lady Lyttelton has kindly furnished us with dates and\naccurate information about the members of the Spencer family, and as\nshe is the only survivor of the children of John George, Earl Spencer,\nwe hope the memory of her dear brother will serve to alleviate the\nweight of her advancing years, and prolong them considerably to her\nchildren and grandchildren. We beg to express our sincere thanks for\nher ladyship's kindness.\n\nA fourth and not a less interesting source of information has been our\nown memory. Father Ignatius was most communicative to his brethren;\nindeed he might be said to be transparent. We all knew him so well. He\nrelated the anecdotes that are given in his memoir to us all; and when\neach Father and Brother gave in his contribution, the quantity\nfurnished would have made a very entertaining life of itself. Their\nthanks must be the consciousness of having helped to keep him yet\namongst us as far as was possible.\n\nThese, then, are the sources from which the following pages have been\ncompiled. The facts related may therefore be relied upon as perfectly\nauthentic. We possess the originals of the matter quoted--vouchers for\nevery opinion advanced, and the anecdotes can be corroborated by half\na dozen of witnesses.\n\n{xxii}\n\nSeeing that his life had been so diverse, and that the changes of\nthought which influenced the early portion of it were so various, it\nwas thought best to divide it into four distinct books. The first book\ntakes him to the threshold of the Anglican ministry; the second into\nthe fold of the Church; the third into the Passionist novitiate; and\nthe fourth follows him to the grave.\n\nWe shall let the details speak for themselves, and only remark that\nthere is an identity in the character as well as in the countenance of\na man which underlies all the phases of opinion through which he may\nhave passed. It will be seen that, from childhood to old age, Father\nIgnatius was remarkable for earnestness and reverence. Whatever he\nthought to be his duty he pursued with indomitable perseverance. He\nwas not one to cloak over a weak point, or soothe a doubt with a\ntrumped-up answer. He candidly admitted every difficulty, and went\nwith unflagging zeal into clearing it up. This was the key to his\nconversion. He had, besides, even in his greatest vagaries, a\nreverential spirit with regard to his Creator, which formed an\natmosphere of duty around him, outside which he could not step without\nbeing stung by conscience. A sting he never deadened. These were the\ncentripetal and centrifugal forces that kept his life balanced on an\naxis that remained steady in the centre during his every evolution.\n\n{xxiii}\n\nWe have endeavoured to be faithful to his memory. We have tried, as\nfar as we could, to let himself tell his life; we have only arranged\nthe materials and supplied the cement that would keep them together.\nWhether the work has suffered in our hands or not is immaterial to us.\nWe have tried to do our best, and no one can do more. If any\nexpressions have escaped us that may appear offensive, we are ready to\nmake the most ample apology, but not at the sacrifice of a particle of\ntruth. If, through ignorance or inadvertence, errors have been\ncommitted, we hold ourselves ready to retract them; and retract,\nbeforehand, anything that may, in the slightest degree, be injurious,\nnot to say contrary, to Catholic doctrine, and submit ourselves\nunreservedly in this point to the judgment of ecclesiastical\nauthority.\n\n\n_St. Joseph's Retreat, Highgate, London, N.,\nFeast of the Epiphany, 1866._\n\n{xxiv}\n\n{xxv}\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nBOOK I.\n\n_Father Ignatius, a Young Noble._\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\nHis Childhood--Page 1\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\nFour First Years At Eton--6\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\nHis Two Last Years At Eton--12\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\nPrivate Tuition Under Mr. Blomfield--18\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\nHe Goes To Cambridge--22\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\nHis First Year In Cambridge--28\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\nConclusion Of His First Year In Cambridge--42\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\nSecond Year In Cambridge Takes His Degree--48\n\n{xxvi}\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTravels On The Continent--57\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\nEnglish Life In Naples--65\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\nContinuation Of His Travels--74\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\nAn Interval Of Rest And Preparation For Orders--91\n\n\n\nBOOK II.\n\n_Father Ignatius, an Anglican Minister._\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\nHe Is Ordained, And Enters On His Clerical Duties--103\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\nHe Mends Some Of His Ways--110\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\nHe Receives Further Orders--117\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\nMr. Spencer Becomes Rector Of Brington--122\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\nChanges In His Religious Opinions--127\n\nCHAPTER VI.\nOpposition To His Religious Views--134\n\n{xxvii}\n\nCHAPTER VII.\nProgress Of His Religious Views--142\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\nSome Of The Practical Effects Of His Views--148\n\nCHAPTER IX.\nScruples About The Athanasian Creed--155\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\nIncidents And State Of Mind In 1827-28--166\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\nThe Maid Of Lille--174\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\nAmbrose Lisle Phillipps--186\n\n\n\nBOOK III.\n\n_Father Ignatius, a Secular Priest._\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\nHis First Days In The Church--199\n\nCHAPTER II.\nMr. Spencer In The English College, Rome--206\n\nCHAPTER III.\nFather Spencer Is Ordained Priest--212\n\nCHAPTER IV.\nFather Spencer Begins His Missionary Life--220\n\n{xxviii}\n\nCHAPTER V.\nProspects Of Widening His Sphere Of Action--226\n\nCHAPTER VI.\nNewspaper Discussions, Etc.--232\n\nCHAPTER VII.\nPrivate Life And Crosses Of Father Spencer--240\n\nCHAPTER  VIII.\nAssociation Of Prayers For The Conversion Of England--248\n\nCHAPTER IX.\nHis Last Days In West Bromwich--258\n\nCHAPTER X.\nFather Spencer Comes To Oscott--264\n\nCHAPTER XI.\nSome Of His Doings In Oscott College--270\n\nCHAPTER XII.\nSome Events Of Interest--275\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\nHis Tour On The Continent In 1844--280\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\nClose Of His Career In Oscott;\nAnd His Religious Vocation--343\n\n{xxix }\n\nBOOK IV.\n\n_Father Ignatius, a Passionist_\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\nThe Noviciate--351\n\nCHAPTER II.\nHis First Year As A Passionist--361\n\nCHAPTER III.\nA Peculiar Mission--368\n\nCHAPTER IV.\nDeath Of Father Dominic--374\n\nCHAPTER V.\nSpirit Of Father Ignatius At This Time--380\n\nCHAPTER VI.\nHis Dealings With Protestants And Prayers For Union--387\n\nCHAPTER VII.\nFather Ignatius In 1850--393\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\nA New Form Of \"The Crusade\"--400\n\nCHAPTER IX.\nVisit To Rome And \"The Association Of Prayers\"--413\n\nCHAPTER X.\nA Tour In Germany--428\n\n{xxx}\n\nCHAPTER XI.\nFather Ignatius Returns To England--436\n\nCHAPTER XII.\nA Little Of His Home And Foreign Work--443\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\nSanctification Of Ireland--449\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\nAnother Tour On The Continent--453\n\nCHAPTER XV.\nFather Ignatius In 1857--458\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\nHis \"Little Missions\"--464\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\nFather Ignatius At Home--469\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\nA Few Events--477\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\nTrials And Crosses--483\n\nCHAPTER XX.\nForeshadowings And Death--495\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\nThe Obsequies Of Father Ignatius--504\n\n{xxxi}\n\nBOOK I.\n\n_F. Ignatius, a Young Noble._\n\n\n{xxxii}\n\n\n{1}\n\n[Image of Cross]\nI X P\n\n\n\nLIFE OF FATHER IGNATIUS\nOF ST. PAUL, PASSIONIST.\n\n\n\nBOOK I.\n\n_F. Ignatius, a Young Noble._\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\nHis Childhood.\n\n\nSaint Paul gives the general history of childhood in one sentence:\n\"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I\nthought as a child.\" The thoughts and ways of children are wonderfully\nsimilar; the mind is not sufficiently developed to give direction to\ncharacter, and the peculiar incidents that are sometimes recorded to\nprove \"the child the father of the man,\" seem more the result of\nchance than deliberation. With all this, we like to bask our memory in\nthose sunny days: we love to look at our cradles, at where we made and\nspoiled our little castles, and we recall the smallest incidents to\nmind, as if to try and fancy we could be children again. This natural\nsentiment makes us anxious to know all about the infancy and childhood\nof those whose life has an interest for us; {2} although knowing that\nthere can be nothing very strange about it; and even, if there be,\nthat it cannot have much weight in moulding the character of our hero,\nand less still in influencing our own. The childhood of Father\nIgnatius forms an exception to this. It is wonderful; it shaped his\ncharacter for a great part of his life. Its history is written by\nhimself, and it is instructive to all who have charge of children.\nBefore quoting from his own autobiography, it may be well to say\nsomething about his family; more, because it is customary to do so on\noccasions like the present, than to give information about what is\nalready well known.\n\nHis father was George John, Earl Spencer, K.G., &c., &c. He was\nconnected by ties of consanguinity and affinity with the Earl of\nSunderland and the renowned Duke of Marlborough; was successively\nmember of Parliament, one of the Lords of the Treasury, and succeeded\nLord Chatham as First Lord of the Admiralty on the 20th of December,\n1794. This office he retained until 1800, and, during his\nadministration, the naval history of England shone with the victories\nof St. Vincent, Camperdown, and the Nile. Perhaps his term of office\nwas more glorious to himself from the moderation and justice with\nwhich he quelled the mutiny at the Nore, than from the fact of his\nhaving published the victories that gave such glory to his country. He\nmarried, in 1781, Lavinia, the daughter of Sir Charles Bingham,\nafterwards Earl of Lucan. Five sons and three daughters were the issue\nof this marriage. Two of them died in infancy. The oldest, John\nCharles, Lord Althorp, succeeded his father in 1834, and died\nchildless in 1845; the second, Sarah, is the present Dowager Lady\nLyttelton; the fifth, Robert Cavendish, died unmarried in 1830; the\nsixth, Georgiana, was married to Lord George Quin, son to the Marquis\nof Headfort, and died in 1823; the seventh, Frederick, father of the\npresent earl, succeeded his eldest brother in 1845. The youngest, the\nHonourable George Spencer, is the subject of the present biography.\n\nHe was born on the 21st of December, 1799, at the Admiralty in London,\nand baptized according to the rite of {3} the Church of England, by\nthe Rev. Charles Norris, prebendary of Canterbury. Whether he was\ntaken to Althorp, the family seat in Northamptonshire, to be nursed,\nbefore his father retired from office in 1800, we have no means of\nknowing; but, certain it is, that it was there he spent his childhood\nuntil he went to Eton in 1808. We will let himself give us the history\nof his mind during this portion of his existence: the history of his\nbody is that of a nobleman's child, tended in all things as became his\nstation:--\n\n  \"My recollections of the five or six first years of my life are very\n  vague,--more so by far than in the case of other persons; and\n  whether I had any notions of religion before my six-year-old\n  birthday, I cannot tell. But it was on that day, if I am not\n  mistaken, that I was taken aside, as for a serious conversation, by\n  my sister's governess, who was a Swiss lady, under whose care I\n  passed the years between leaving the nursery and being sent to\n  school, and instructed by her, for the first time, concerning the\n  existence of God and some other great truths of religion. It seems\n  strange now that I should have lived so long without acquiring any\n  ideas on the subject: my memory may deceive me, but I have a most\n  clear recollection of the very room at Althorp where I sat with her\n  while she declared to me, as a new piece of instruction, for which\n  till then I had not been judged old enough, that there was an\n  Almighty Being, dwelling in heaven, who had created me and all\n  things, and whom I was bound to fear. Till then, I believe, I had\n  not the least apprehension of the existence of anything beyond the\n  sensible world around me. This declaration, made to me as it was\n  with tender seriousness, was, I believe, accompanied with gracious\n  expressions, which have never been, in all my errors and wanderings,\n  obliterated. To what but the grace of God can I ascribe it, that I\n  firmly believed from the first moment this truth, of which I was not\n  capable of understanding a proof, and that I never since have\n  entertained a doubt of it, nor been led, like so many more, to\n  universal scepticism; that my faith in the truth of God should have\n  been preserved while for so long a time I lived, as I afterwards\n  did, wholly without its influence?\n\n{4}\n\n  \"I continued, with my brother Frederick, who was twenty months older\n  than myself, under the instruction of this same governess, till we\n  went to Eton School. I do not remember the least difficulty in\n  receiving as true whatever I was taught of religion at that time. It\n  never occurred to me to think that objections might be made to it,\n  though I knew that different religious persuasions existed. I\n  remember being told by our governess, and being pleased in the idea,\n  that the Church of England was peculiarly excellent; but I remember\n  no distinct feelings of opposition or aversion to the Catholic\n  religion. Of serious impressions I was at that time, I believe, very\n  susceptible; but they must have been most transient. I remember,\n  more than once, distinctly saying my prayers with fervour; though,\n  generally, I suppose, I paid but little attention to them. I was\n  sometimes impressed with great fear of the Day of Judgment, as I\n  remember once in particular, at hearing a French sermon read about\n  it; and, perhaps, I did not knowingly offend God, but I could not be\n  said to love God, nor heartily to embrace religion, if, as I\n  suppose, my ordinary feeling must have corresponded with what I\n  remember well crossing my mind when I was about seven years\n  old,--great regret at reflecting on the sin of Adam; by which I\n  understood that I could not expect to live for ever on the earth.\n  Whatever I thought desirable in the world,--abundance of money, high\n  titles, amusements of all sorts, fine dress, and the like,--as soon\n  and as far as I understood anything about them, I loved and longed\n  for; nor do I see how it could have been otherwise, as the holy,\n  severe maxims of the Gospel truth on these matters were not\n  impressed upon me. Why is it that the truth on these things is so\n  constantly withheld from children; and, instead of being taught by\n  constant, repeated, unremitting lessons that the world and all that\n  it has is worth nothing; that, if they gain all, but lose their\n  souls, they gain nothing; if they lose all and gain their souls,\n  they gain all? Why is it that they are to be encouraged to do right\n  by promises of pleasure, deterred from evil by worldly fear, and so\n  trained up, as it seems, to put a false value on all things? How {5}\n  easily, as it now appears to me, might my affections in those days\n  have been weaned from the world, and made to value God alone? But\n  let me not complain, but bless God for the care,--the very unusual\n  care, I believe,--which was taken of me, by which I remained, I may\n  say, ignorant of what evil was at an age when many, I fear, become\n  proficients. This blessing, however, of being wonderfully preserved\n  from the knowledge, and consequently from the practice, of vice, was\n  more remarkably manifested in the four years of my life succeeding\n  those of which I have been now writing.\"\n\nThe instilling into young minds religious motives for their actions\nwas a frequent topic of conversation with Father Ignatius in his\nafter-life. He was once speaking with some of our young religious on\nthis subject in general; one of them remarked how easy it was to act\nupon holy motives practically, and instanced his own childhood, when\nthe thought that God would love or hate him kept him straight in his\nactions: this was the simple and perpetually repeated lesson of his\nmother, which he afterwards forgot, but which finally stopped him in a\ncareer of ambition, and made him a religious. The old man's eye\nglistened as he heard this, and he sighed deeply. He then observed\nthat it confirmed his opinion, that parents ought to instruct their\nown children, and never commit them to the mercies of a public school\nuntil they were perfectly grounded in the practice of virtue and\npiety. The next chapter will show why he thought thus.\n\n{6}\n\nCHAPTER II.\nFour First Years At Eton.\n\n\n  \"The 18th of May, 1808, was the important day when first I left my\n  father's house. With a noble equipage, my father and mother took my\n  brother Frederick and me to the house of the Rev. Richard Godley,\n  whom they had chosen to be our private tutor at Eton. He lived, with\n  his family, at a place called the Wharf, about half a mile from the\n  college buildings, which we had to go to for school and chapel\n  across the playing-fields. Oh! how interesting are my recollections\n  whilst I recall the joys and sorrows of Eton days; but I must not\n  expatiate on them, as my own feelings would lead me to do with\n  pleasure. What I have to do now is to record how the circumstances\n  in which I was then placed have contributed to influence my\n  religions principles, and formed some links in the chain of events\n  by which I have arrived at my present state, so different from all\n  that might then have been anticipated. Mr. Godley I consider to have\n  been, what I believe my parents likewise regarded him, a strictly\n  conscientious and deeply religious man; and I must always account it\n  one of the greatest blessings for which, under God, I am indebted to\n  their wisdom and affection, that I was placed in such hands at so\n  critical a time. I do not intend, in all points, to declare my\n  approbation of the system which he pursued with us: but how can I be\n  too grateful for having been under the strict vigilance of one who\n  did, I am convinced, reckon the preservation of my innocence, and\n  the salvation of my soul, his chief concern with me? I remained with\n  Mr. Godley till the Midsummer holidays of 1812. My brother left Eton\n  and went to sea in the year 1811.\n\n{7}\n\n  \"Those who know what our public schools are, will reckon it, I\n  believe, almost incredible that I should be four years at Eton, and\n  remain, as I did, still almost ignorant of what the language of\n  wickedness meant. Mr. Godley's yoke I certainly thought at the time\n  to be a heavy one. Several times each day we were obliged to go\n  across the playing-fields to school, to chapel, or to absence (which\n  was the term by which Etonians will yet understand the calling over\n  the names of the boys at certain times); so that during the daytime,\n  when in health, we could never be more than three hours together\n  without appearing with the boys of the school. Mr. Godley, however,\n  was inexorable in his rule that we should invariably come home\n  immediately after each of these occasions: by this we were kept from\n  much intercourse with other boys. Most grievous then appeared my\n  unhappy lot, in the summer months especially, when we had to pass\n  through the playing-fields, crowded with cricketers, to whom a lower\n  boy, to fag for them and stop their balls, was sure to be an\n  important prize, whose wrath we incurred if we dared despise their\n  call, and run on our way; whilst, if we were but a few minutes late,\n  the yet more terrible sight awaited us of Mr. Godley's angry\n  countenance. We had not exemption from one of these musters, as most\n  boys had who lived at a distance from the school, yet none of them\n  were bound like us to a speedy return home. It seemed like an\n  Egyptian bondage, from which there was no escape; and doubtless the\n  effect was not altogether good upon my character. As might be\n  expected, the more we were required to observe rules and customs\n  different from others, the more did a certain class of big bullies\n  in the school seem to count it their business to watch over us, as\n  though they might be our evil geniuses. A certain set of faces,\n  consequently, I looked upon with a kind of mysterious dread; and I\n  was under a constant sense of being as though in an enemy's country,\n  obliged to guard against dangers on all sides. Shrinking and\n  skulking became my occupation beyond the ordinary lot of little\n  schoolboys, and my natural disposition to be cowardly and spiritless\n  was perhaps increased. I say _perhaps_, for other {8} circumstances\n  might have made me worse; for what I was in the eyes of the masters\n  of public opinion in the school, I really was--a chicken-hearted\n  creature, what, in Eton language, is called a _sawney_. It may be,\n  that had I been from the first in free intercourse among the boys,\n  instead of being a good innocent one, I might have been, what I\n  suppose must be reckoned one of the worst varieties of public-school\n  characters, a mean, dishonourable one. Whatever I may have lost from\n  not being trained, from the first of my Eton life, in the perfect\n  spirit of the place, could I possibly have escaped during that time\n  in any other way the utter corruption of my morals, at least the\n  filling of my mind with familiar images of all the most foul\n  iniquity? For, alas! where is the child from the age of eight till\n  twelve who, without one compassionate friend, already strong in\n  virtue to countenance and to encourage him, shall maintain the\n  profession of modesty and holiness against a persecution as\n  inveterate and merciless in its way as that which Lot had to bear at\n  Sodom? Was not the angel of God with me when He preserved me for so\n  long from all attacks of this kind in such a place as Eton was in my\n  time? How can I remember Godley but with veneration and gratitude,\n  who, though, it may be, not so considerately and wisely as might be\n  possible (for who is as wise as he might be?), kept me, I might say,\n  almost alone untainted in the midst of so much corruption.\n\n  \"Yet, till the last year of my stay with him, I did not learn\n  decidedly to love religion. It was still my task and not my\n  pleasure. At length, my brother Frederick being gone to sea, and two\n  other boys, Mr. Godley's stepsons, who were with us under his\n  instructions, being sent to school elsewhere, I remained his only\n  pupil, and, I may almost say, his chief care and joy. He felt with\n  me and for me in the desolation of my little heart, at being parted\n  from my first and hitherto inseparable mate, and I became his almost\n  constant companion. It is not difficult to gain the confidence of a\n  simple child: he spoke almost continually of religious subjects, and\n  I learnt to take his view of things. I certainly did not begin to\n  lose my pleasure in life. Death {9} was an idea which still was\n  strange to me; and I did not come to an understanding of the great\n  doctrines of Revelation. I remember not to have taken much notice of\n  any peculiar articles of faith; but still believed implicitly,\n  without argument or inquiry, what I was taught. I can now hardly\n  give an account of what were the religious ideas and impressions\n  which began so greatly to engage my mind, except that I took my\n  chief delight in hearing Mr. Godley speak about religion, that I had\n  a great abhorrence and dread of wickedness, thought with pleasure of\n  my being intended to be a clergyman, as I was always told I should\n  be, and admired and loved all whom I was taught to look upon as\n  religious people. All these simple feelings of piety, which were\n  often accompanied with pure delight, were greatly increased in a\n  visit of six weeks which I paid, with Mr. Godley, to his mother and\n  sisters at Chester. He was a Prebendary of that cathedral, and of\n  course had to spend some time there every year in residence.\n  Usually, when he went from home, from time to time, he was used to\n  get one of the other tutors at Eton to hear my brother's and my\n  lessons, and to look over our exercises; but in the last summer I\n  staid with him, with my father's consent, he took me with him. Mr.\n  Godley's sisters, who showed me great kindness, like him, I suppose,\n  had no wish concerning me than to encourage me in becoming pious and\n  good, and I got to read a few pious books which they recommended.\n  'The Pilgrim's Progress,' Doddridge's 'Life of Colonel Gardiner,'\n  Alleine's 'Alarm,' were some which I remember taking great effect\n  upon me; so that when I returned from Chester to Eton, though I\n  cannot recall many particulars of my feelings, I know that the chief\n  prevailing one was, an ardent desire to keep myself untainted at\n  Eton, and to keep from all fellowship with the set of boys whom I\n  knew to be particularly profane mockers of piety. I bought a book of\n  prayers, and during the three weeks that I yet remained with this\n  tutor, after our return from Chester, and when first I went home to\n  the summer holidays, I took no delight like that of being by myself\n  at prayer. Ah! how grievous would be the thought if we could but\n  understand how to {10} lament such a calamity as it deserves, of a\n  pious child's tender, pure soul denied, made forgetful of all its\n  good, and hardened. O God, grant me wisdom to understand the\n  magnitude of such an evil, grant me a heart now at length to mourn\n  over the devastation and uprooting which it was, at this time, Thy\n  holy will to permit, of all those fair flowers of grace which Thy\n  hand had planted in my heart; and grant me to mourn my fall, that I\n  may now once at last recover that simplicity of childlike piety, the\n  feelings of which I now recollect, indeed, though faintly, but never\n  have since again enjoyed. Oh! God, if a child's love, pure through\n  ignorance of sin, is never to be mine again, oh! give me at least\n  that depth of penance for which my fall has given me such ample\n  matter.\n\n  \"It occurred not to my mind to consider whether the new thoughts\n  which occupied my mind, and the books in which I took such pleasure,\n  would be approved of at home. I took them with me to the holidays.\n  It was judged, as was to be expected, by my parents, that Mr.\n  Godley's views of religion were not such as they would wish to be\n  instilled into me; and it was determined that I should leave his\n  house and be placed with one of the public tutors at Eton. It is a\n  difficult thing to classify religious Protestants, and so I do not\n  here pronounce Mr. Godley and his sisters to have been Evangelical,\n  or Calvinistic, nor give them any distinctive title. They did not,\n  as far as I remember, inculcate upon me any peculiar notions of\n  religion, but they certainly were not in the way which is usually\n  called orthodox Church of England religion, though indeed it is\n  difficult to define exactly what this is. It was likely, or rather\n  morally certain, that while with Mr. Godley, I should follow his\n  guidance, and take his views; so I was to be placed among the other\n  boys, as I imagine with the idea likewise, that I should gain in\n  this way more of the advantages supposed to belong to the rough\n  discipline of a public school. I do not understand how it was that I\n  received the intimation of this change with so little sadness.\n  Distant evils, as we all know, lose their sting strangely; and,\n  having the holidays before me when this change was declared, I {11}\n  felt no trouble about it then. It is easy to talk a docile child\n  into agreement with any plan made for him by those whom he is used\n  to confide in; and so I remember no difficulty when my books were\n  taken away, and I had no more persons by to bring my former thoughts\n  to remembrance, in quietly discontinuing my fervent practices.\"\n\n{12}\n\nCHAPTER III.\nHis Two Last Years At Eton.\n\n\n  \"In the course of September, 1812, I began a new stage of my life by\n  entering at the Rev. ***'s, where I was, alas! too effectually to be\n  untaught what there might be unsound in my religion, by being\n  quickly stripped of it completely. The house contained, I think, but\n  about ten or twelve boys at the time I went to it, a much smaller\n  number than the generality of boarding houses about the school; and,\n  dreadful as was its moral condition, it was respectable in\n  comparison to others. There is no doubt that it was recommended to\n  my parents because its character stood high among the rest. The boys\n  were divided into three or four messes, as they were called. Each of\n  us had a room to himself and a separate little establishment, as the\n  boys had allowances to provide breakfast and tea for themselves, and\n  we did not meet in common rooms for private study, as in some\n  schools. In order to make their means go farther, two or three would\n  associate together and make a joint concern; and very comfortable\n  some would make themselves. But comfort was not what I had now to\n  enjoy.\n\n  \"I have adverted already to the system of fagging at our public\n  schools. The law is established immemorially at Eton that the upper\n  boys, those of the fifth and sixth class, have an authority to\n  command those below them. This law, though understood and allowed by\n  the masters, is not enforced by them. They will interfere to check\n  and punish any great abuse of the power of the upper boys; but the\n  only power by which the commands of these masters are to be enforced\n  is their own hands; so that a boy, though by rank in the school a\n  fag, may escape the burdens to be imposed if he have but age and\n  strength and spirit to {13} maintain his independence. Each upper\n  boy may impose his commands on any number of inferiors he may please\n  at any time and in any place, so that an unhappy lower boy is never\n  safe. Nothing exempts him from the necessity of immediately quitting\n  his own pursuits and waiting on the pleasure of an unexpected\n  master, but being under orders to attend his tutor, or a certain\n  number of privileged excuses in matters about which those potentates\n  condescend to consider the feelings of the subalterns, and where\n  public opinion would condemn them if they did not--such as being\n  actually fagging for some one else, being engaged to play a match at\n  cricket which his absence would spoil. It was this sort of\n  out-of-door casual service which alone I had to dread as long as I\n  was in Mr. Godley's house. When I went to Mr. ***, I had to serve my\n  apprenticeship in domestic fagging, which consisted in performing to\n  one or more of the fifth or sixth form boys in the house almost all\n  the duties of a footman or a waiter at an inn. The burden of this\n  kind of servitude of course depended, in the first place, on the\n  temper of one's master, and then on the comparative number of upper\n  and lower boys in a house. During the time I had to fag at Mr.\n  ***'s, but especially in the latter part of it, the number of fags\n  was dismally small, and sometimes heavy was my yoke.\n\n  \"But it is not this which gives to my recollection of that period of\n  my life its peculiar sadness. I might have made a merry life in the\n  midst of it, like that of many another school-boy, and I was merry\n  sometimes, but I had known better things. I had once learnt to hate\n  wickedness, and I never could find myself at ease in the midst of\n  it, though I had not strength to resist it openly. The first evening\n  that I arrived at this new tutor's house, I was cordially received\n  to mess with the set of three or four lower boys who were there.\n  These were quiet, good-natured boys; but, to be one with them, it\n  was soon evident that the sweet practices of devotion must be given\n  up, and other rules followed from those I knew to be right. I was\n  taken by them on expeditions of boyish depredation and pilfering. I\n  had never been tempted or invited before to anything like this, and\n  {14} it was misery to me, on account of my natural want of courage\n  as well as my tender conscience, to join such enterprises. Yet I\n  dared not boldly declare my resolution to commit no sin, and I made\n  a trial now of that which has been so often tried, and what has\n  often led to fatal confusion--to satisfy the world without\n  altogether breaking with God. One day we went to pick up walnuts in\n  a park near Eton; another day to steal beans or turnips, or the\n  like, from fields or gardens; then, more bold, to take ducks and\n  chickens from farmyards. It is a common idea that this kind of\n  school-boys' theft is not indeed a sin. At Eton it certainly was not\n  so considered. A boy who stole money from another boy was disgraced,\n  and branded as a wretch almost beyond forgiveness, whereas for\n  stealing his school-books, he would not be blamed; and for robbing\n  orchards or farmyards he would be honoured and extolled, and so much\n  the more if, in doing it, one or two or three together had violently\n  beaten the farmer's boy, or even himself. But where is the reason\n  for this distinction? The Word of God and a simple conscience\n  certainly teach no such difference. At any rate, I know, to my\n  sorrow, that the beginning of my fall from all that was good, was by\n  being led to countenance and bear a part, though sorely against my\n  better will, in such work as this.\n\n  \"This was not the worst misery. My ignorance in the mysteries of\n  iniquity was soon apparent. However much I strove to keep my\n  countenance firm, I could not hear immodesties without blushing. I\n  was, on this account, a choice object of the fun of some of the\n  boys, who took delight in forcing me to hear instructions in\n  iniquity. One evening after another, I well remember, the quarters\n  would be invaded where I and my companions were established; all our\n  little employments would be interrupted, our rooms filled with dirt,\n  our beds, perhaps, tossed about, and a noisy row kept up for hours,\n  of which sometimes one, and sometimes another of our set was the\n  principal butt. I was set up as a choice object, of course, on\n  account of my simplicity and inexperience in their ways, so that\n  some of the partners of these plagues with me would blame me for\n  being so silly {15} as to pretend ignorance of what their foul\n  expressions meant; for they could not believe it possible that I\n  should really be so simple as not to understand them. I maintained\n  for some time a weak conflict in my soul against all this flood of\n  evil. For a little time I found one short space of comfort through\n  the day, when at length, after an evening thus spent, I got to bed,\n  and in secret wept and prayed myself to sleep; but the trial was too\n  strong and too often repeated. I had no kind friend to speak to.\n\n  \"Mr. Godley still lived at the Wharf, and though he seemed to think\n  it right not to press himself upon me, he asked me to come and dine\n  when I pleased. Two or three times I went to dine with him, and\n  these were my last really happy days, when for an hour or two I\n  could give my mind liberty to feel at ease, and recollect my former\n  feelings in this kindly company. But I could not, I dared not, tell\n  him all I was now exposed to, and so I was left to stand my ground\n  alone. Had any one then told me that by myself I must not hope to\n  resist temptation, and rightly directed me how to call on God for\n  help, I have since thought I might have stood it; but I had not yet\n  known the force of temptation, nor learnt by experience the power of\n  God to support the weak. My weakness I now felt by clear experience,\n  and after a short conflict,--for this battle was soon gained by the\n  great enemy who was so strong in the field against me,--I remember\n  well the conclusion striking my mind, that the work of resistance\n  was useless, and that I must give up. Where were you, O my God,\n  might I now exclaim, to leave me thus alone and unprotected on such\n  a boisterous sea? Ah! my Lord, I have never found fault with thy\n  divine appointments in thus permitting me to fall. Only I say, as\n  before, give me grace now fully to recover what I lost; and I will\n  ever bless thee for allowing me to have known so much evil, if it be\n  but that I may warn others,\n\n  \"It might be, perhaps, ten days after my arrival at Mr. ***'s, when\n  I gave up all attempt to pray; and I think I did not say one word of\n  prayer for the two years and more that I afterwards continued there.\n  I remember {16} once being by, when one of the most rude and hard of\n  my tormentors was dressing himself, and, to my surprise, turned to\n  me, and, with his usual civility, said some such word as, 'Now hold\n  your jaw;' and then, down on his knees near the bed, and his face\n  between his hands, said his prayers. I then saw for a moment to what\n  I had fallen, when even this fellow had more religion than unhappy I\n  had retained; but I had no grain of strength now left to rise. One\n  would think that in the holidays my change would have been\n  discovered; for I imagine that I never knelt down even at home\n  except in the church. But, alas! little did my family suspect what a\n  place was Eton; or, at least, if a suspicion comes across parents'\n  minds of what their children are exposed to in public schools, they\n  generally persuade themselves that this must be endured for a\n  necessary good, which is, to make them learn to know the world.\n\n  \"When I had ceased attempting to maintain my pious feelings, the\n  best consolation I had was in the company of a few boys of a spirit\n  congenial to what mine was now become. All the time that I remained\n  at Eton I never learnt to take pleasure in the manly, active games\n  for which it is so famous. It is not that I was without some natural\n  talent for such things. I have since had my time of most ardent\n  attachment to cricket, to tennis, shooting, hunting, and all active\n  exercises: but my spirit was bent down at Eton; and among the boys\n  who led the way in all manly pursuits, I was always shy and\n  miserable, which was partly a cause and partly an effect of my being\n  looked down upon by them. My pleasure there was in being with a few\n  boys, like myself, without spirit for these things, retired apart\n  from the sight of others, amusing ourselves with making arbours,\n  catching little fishes in the streams; and many were the hours I\n  wasted in such childish things when I was grown far too old for\n  them.\n\n  \"Oh! the happiness of a Catholic child, whose inmost soul is known\n  to one whom God has charged with his salvation. Supposing I had been\n  a Catholic child in such a situation--if such a supposition be\n  possible--the pious feelings with which God inspired me, would have\n  been under {17} the guidance of a tender spiritual Father, who would\n  have supplied exactly what I needed when about to fall under that\n  sense of unassisted weakness which I have described. He would have\n  taught me how to be innocent and firm in the midst of all my trials,\n  which would then have tended to exalt, instead of suppressing, my\n  character. I would have kept my character not only clear in the\n  sight of God, but honourable among my fellows, who soon would have\n  given up their persecution when they found me steadfast; and I might\n  have brought with me in the path of peace and justice many whom I\n  followed in the dark ways of sin. But it is in vain to calculate on\n  what I might have been had I been then a Catholic. God be praised,\n  my losses I may yet recover, and perhaps even reap advantages from\n  them.\"\n\n{18}\n\nCHAPTER IV.\nPrivate Tuition Under Mr. Blomfield.\n\n\n  \"Had the public masters of the school been attentive to the\n  advancement of the scholars in learning while negligent of their\n  morals, and had I been making progress in my studies while losing my\n  innocence, I might have continued longer in that place; for I did\n  not fall into gross, outward, vicious habits, and it is possible\n  that no difference was perceived in my behaviour at home. But I\n  suppose my father saw a wide difference between the care which Mr.\n  Godley bestowed on me and that which boys in the public tutors'\n  houses could receive. I know not exactly the reasons that led to the\n  change; but, in the Christmas holidays at the end of the year 1813,\n  Mr. Blomfield was invited to Althorp, and he was pointed out to me\n  as my intended future tutor. Many of my readers will know at once\n  that he is now'[Footnote 1] the Protestant Bishop of London. My\n  father had presented him somewhat before this period with the\n  rectory of Dunton, in Buckinghamshire, having been led to do so by\n  the distinguished character which he heard of him from Cambridge for\n  he did not personally know him when he offered him this piece of\n  preferment. From the time that I made his acquaintance, and received\n  some directions from him for private reading at Eton during the\n  remaining time of my stay there, I began to take some more decided\n  interest than I had yet done in advancing myself in literary\n  knowledge. This, as well as my growing older and more independent of\n  other boys, and falling in {19} with more sensible companions, gave\n  to my mind a more satisfactory turn during my last year at Eton.\n  There was no return, though, to religion whilst I remained there,\n  nor was there likely to be; and so, most blessed was the change for\n  me when, before Christmas 1814, I left Mr. ***'s, and, after\n  remaining at home for about three months in company with my brother\n  Frederick, returned for the first time from sea, I went to Mr.\n  Blomfield's in March, 1815. I staid there till near the time of my\n  first going to Cambridge, which was in the summer of 1817.\n  Simplicity and purity of mind, alas! are not regained with the\n  readiness with which they are lost: the falling into bad company and\n  consenting to it will utterly ruin all innocence. The removal of\n  occasions may prevent the growth of evil habits and the farther\n  increase of corruption; but this alone will not restore that blessed\n  ignorance of evil which was no longer mine. My residence with\n  Blomfield was, however, the means to me of great good. Here I was\n  confirmed in that love for study and knowledge of which I have\n  already noticed the commencement. He had himself, as is well known,\n  though still young, gained a reputation for classical learning among\n  the scholars of England and the Continent; and his example and\n  conversations inspired me with desires for the like distinctions, to\n  which he gave all possible encouragement. This I reckon to have been\n  a considerable advantage to my religious welfare; for, although the\n  motive I set before me was merely worldly, and the subjects which I\n  studied had little of a good and much of a bad tendency, as must\n  needs be the case with pagan literature, yet, by gaining a habit for\n  study, I was directed in a line widely distinct from the most\n  vicious of the society through which I was afterwards to pass; and,\n  by being a reading man at Cambridge, I was saved from much\n  perversion.\"\n\n    [Footnote 1: This was written in 1836. See Preface.\n    Dr. Blomfield died in 1857.]\n\nWe shall be pardoned for interrupting the course of this interesting\nnarrative, by inserting an anecdote, which shows how unchanged was his\nopinion on the merits of pagan literature. In a conversation with his\nreligious companions, shortly before he died, he happened to say\nsomething about the discoveries of Cardinal Mai among the Bobbio {20}\nmanuscripts. Some one remarked that it was nothing less than Vandalism\nfor the old monks to erase one of the classic authors, and write some\ncrude chronicle or other over it. \"Well,\" replied Father Ignatius, \"I\nsuppose the monks had as much respect for Virgil and Ovid as the\nangels have.\"\n\nTo resume.\n\n  \"But what was of the chief importance to me at this time was, being\n  in a house and with company, where, if subjects of religion were not\n  so much put before me as with Mr. Godley, and if I was not\n  constantly exhorted and encouraged in simple piety, I and my fellow\n  pupils felt that no word of immorality would have been anywise\n  tolerated. Prayers were daily read in the family, the service of the\n  Church was performed with zeal and regularity, the Sunday was\n  strictly observed, and a prominent part of our instruction was on\n  matters of religion. It was also to me an invaluable benefit, that\n  the companion with whom I was principally associated, during the\n  chief part of my time at Dunton, was one who, like me, after a\n  careful education at home, where he had imbibed religious feelings,\n  had gone through the corruptions of another public school, but was\n  now, like me, happy to find himself in purer air.\n\n  \"With him I was confirmed at Easter, 1816, by Dr. Howley, then\n  Protestant Bishop of London, now Archbishop of Canterbury. It was an\n  incalculable blessing to me, slave as I was to false shame, and\n  cowardly as I was to resist against bold iniquity, that I now had\n  had a period granted me, as it were, to breathe and gain a little\n  vigour again, before the second cruel and more ruinous devastation\n  which my poor heart was shortly to undergo. I prepared seriously for\n  my confirmation, and for receiving the Sacrament from time to time,\n  and recovered much of my former good practices of private devotion.\n  I remember especially to have procured once more a manual of\n  prayers, and during the last months of my stay at Dunton I spent a\n  long time in self-examination by the table of sins in that book,\n  somewhat similar to our Catholic preparation for confession. But,\n  alas! I could go no further than the preparation. Oh! the great\n  enemy of our souls knew well what he was {21} doing in abolishing\n  confession. As before, when I first lost my innocence and piety at\n  Eton, confession would, I am convinced, have preserved me from that\n  fall; so now that I was almost recovering from the fall, if I had\n  had the ear of a spiritual father to whom I might with confidence\n  have discovered the wounds of my poor soul, he would have assisted\n  me utterly to extirpate the remains of those evil habits of my\n  heart. He would have shown me what I knew so imperfectly, the\n  horrible danger of the state in which I had been so near eternal\n  damnation; he would have made me feel that holy shame for my sins,\n  which would have overcome that false earthly shame by which I still\n  was ready to be mastered; and he would, in short, have poured in\n  that balm and oil which the ministers of God possess, to heal, and\n  strengthen, and comfort me for my future trials, so that I might\n  have stood firm against my enemies. But it pleased Thee, O my God,\n  that once more, by such sad experience, I should have occasion to\n  learn the value of that holy discipline of penance, the power and\n  admirable virtue of the divine sacraments, with the dispensation of\n  which Thou hast now entrusted me, that I may be a more wise and\n  tender father to Thy little ones whom Thou committest to my care.\"\n\n{22}\n\nCHAPTER V.\nHe Goes To Cambridge.\n\n\nYoung Spencer went with Mr. Blomfield to Cambridge in the spring of\n1817, and was entered fellow commoner of Trinity. He returned,\nimmediately after being matriculated, to his family, and spent the\nsummer in cricketing and sea-bathing, in Ryde, Isle of Wight, and\nhunting or shooting at Althorp. On Saturday, October 18th, he came to\nLondon with his parents. He and his brother Frederick went about\nshopping, to procure their several outfits for the University and the\nsea. On the morning of the 21st October, he set out from his father's\nhouse to Holborn, to catch the seven o'clock fly for Cambridge. This\nvehicle, which has been so long superseded by the Eastern Counties\nRailway, was filled with passengers before the Spencer carriage\narrived. He then took a post chaise at ten o'clock, and arrived in\nCambridge a little before six in the evening. All that remained of\nthat day, and the greater part of the next, was spent in getting his\nrooms furnished, hiring his servant, making a few acquaintances,\nmeeting those he knew before, and the other employments of a freshman.\nHis tutor in classics was Mr. Evans, who long continued in the same\ncapacity at Cambridge, and had the reputation of being a most upright\nman. For mathematics he had a Mr. Peacock, who afterwards became Dean\nof Ely, and restored the cathedral there. He fell into good hands,\nseemingly, as far as his studies were concerned. He does not seem to\nhave been less fortunate in the choice of his companions. He is very\nslow in making friends; one he does not like for being \"too much of\nthe fine gentleman;\" another invites him, and he remarks: \"I suppose I\nmust ask him to dinner or something {23} else; but I should not wish\nto continue acquaintance with him, for though he is good-natured, he\nis likely to be in a bad set.\" He also goes regularly to visit Mr.\nBlomfield, who resided in Hildersham, and advises with him about his\nproceedings. He also avoids needless waste of time, and says in his\njournal: \"They all played whist, in their turns, but Bridgman and\nmyself; which I am glad I did not, for I like it so well that I should\nplay at it too much if I once began.\" Besides these precautions, and a\nfeeling of indignation that bursts out now and again when he has to\nnote a misdemeanour in his associates, he reads seven hours a day on\nan average. These conclusions are collected from the notes of a\njournal he wrote at the time; they mark a very auspicious beginning;\nand, being clear facts, will serve as a kind of glass through which\none may read the following from his autobiography.\n\n  \"My intentions were now well directed (on entering Cambridge). I\n  began well, and for a time did not give way to the detestable\n  fashions of the place, and was not much ashamed in the presence of\n  the profligate. I was very happy likewise. I found myself now for\n  the first time emerged from the condition of a boy. I was treated\n  with respect and kindness by the tutors and fellows of the college;\n  my company was always sought, and I was made much of by what was\n  supposed to be the best--that is, the most well-bred and\n  fashionable, set in the University. I had all the health and high\n  spirits of my age, and I now enjoyed manly amusements, being set\n  free from the cowardly feeling of inferiority which I had to oppress\n  me at Eton. My first term at Cambridge--that is, the two months that\n  passed before the first Christmas vacation after my going there--\n  was, as I thought, the happiest time I had yet known. I find it\n  difficult, however, now to understand that happiness, and still more\n  to understand the religious principle which had more or less some\n  influence over me, when I remember one circumstance which by itself\n  proves my religion to have been absolutely nugatory, and which, I\n  remember well, most grievously spoiled my happiness. As to my\n  religion, I do not remember that at that time I said any private\n  prayer. {24} I suppose I must have discontinued it when I left Mr.\n  Blomfield's, or soon after. Yet I had a sort of principle which\n  guarded me from joining in the profane contempt of God's worship\n  which prevails generally in the College chapels at Cambridge, and\n  for a long time from consenting to the practice of open\n  immoralities, or even pretending to approve them, though almost all\n  the young men whom I knew at Cambridge either notoriously followed\n  or at least sanctioned them.\"\n\nHe alludes to \"one circumstance\" in the last extract as being a test\nof his depth in religious matters, which it will be interesting to\nhave in his own words. It occurred before his entering Cambridge; but\nas it considerably influenced his feelings during his stay there, it\nmay as well find its place here.\n\n  \"The circumstance to which I allude was something of an affair of\n  honour, as the world blindly calls it, into which I got engaged, and\n  which had so important an influence upon my religious feelings for\n  about two years that I will here particularly relate the\n  circumstances of it. In the last summer vacation, before my going to\n  Cambridge, I attended, with my father, the Northampton races, in our\n  way from the Isle of Wight to visit my brother at his place in\n  Nottinghamshire. I had begun, at that time, to be extremely fond of\n  dancing, as well as cricket, shooting, and the like amusements. At\n  this race ball at Northampton, I enjoyed myself to the full; but,\n  unwittingly, laid the foundation for sorrow on the next day.\n  Fancying myself a sort of leader of the gaiety, in a set which\n  seemed to be the most fashionable and smart of the evening, I must\n  needs be making up parties for select dances; which proceeding was,\n  of course, taken by others as intruding on the liberties of a public\n  entertainment; and it happened that, without knowing it, I barred\n  out from one quadrille which I helped in forming, the sister of a\n  young gentleman of name and fortune in the county. I was in the mean\n  time making up a party for a match at cricket on the racecourse for\n  the next day, and this gentleman was one of my chief helpmates. The\n  next day, while busy in collecting our cricketers to go {25} to the\n  ground, I met him in the street, and he gave me the hard cut. I knew\n  not what it meant, and simply let it pass; but on the morning after,\n  I was surprised at receiving a letter from him to tell me what was\n  my offence: it ended with the words (which are deeply enough\n  impressed on my memory not yet to be forgotten), 'If I did not look\n  upon you as a mere boy, I should call you in a more serious manner\n  to account for your rudeness.' He then told me where he might be\n  found the following day. Without much reflecting on this unpleasant\n  communication, I showed it to my father, who was near me, with\n  several other gentlemen of the county, when I received it. He asked\n  me whether I had meant any rudeness, and when I told him I had not,\n  he bid me write an apology, and particularly charged me not to\n  notice the concluding taunt. He afterwards mentioned it to two\n  others of these gentlemen, who both agreed that I had done right in\n  sending such an answer. But soon after my mind fell into such a\n  torment as I had never yet known. The answer was certainly right\n  according to Christian rules, and I suppose the laws of honour would\n  not have required more; but, at the time, I know not whether it\n  would not be esteemed in his mind and that of the friends whom he\n  might consult, to be too gentle for a man of courage. A most\n  agonizing dilemma I was now in, neither side of which I could\n  endure. On the one hand, I could not bear to look on death, and\n  standing to be shot at was what nothing but a fit of desperation\n  could bring me to. On the other, that awful tyrant, the world, now,\n  as it were, put forth his hand and claimed me for his own. To lose\n  my character for courage, and be branded as a coward, was what I\n  could not anyways endure. I went with my father in the carriage to\n  sleep at Loughborough; and when, at the inn, I retired from him to\n  my bedroom, the tumult of my mind was at its height. I had all but\n  determined to set off and go that very night to the place assigned\n  me by this gentleman, who by one disdainful expression had now\n  mysteriously become, as it appeared, the master of my doom; and,\n  renewing the quarrel, take my chance of the consequence. But again,\n  I saw this would {26} not save my honour, if it were already\n  compromised. It was clear that a change of mind like that would\n  hardly satisfy the world, which does not forgive a breach of its\n  awful laws on such easy terms. I finally slept off my trouble for\n  the present; but my soul remained oppressed with a new load, which\n  almost made me weary of my life. I remained convinced that I had not\n  reached the standard of courage in this affair; and I felt,\n  therefore, that it depended on the good-nature of this gentleman\n  whether my character should be exposed or not. He did not reply to\n  my letter of explanation. Was he satisfied or not? During my first\n  term at Cambridge he was expected there, and I was even invited to\n  meet him at a wine party, as one who was known to be one of his\n  neighbours and friends. I dared not show any reluctance to meet him,\n  lest the whole story should be known at Cambridge; and if I did meet\n  him, was he again to treat me with disdain? If he did, how should I\n  avoid a duel? I knew that having anything to do with a duel was\n  expulsion by the laws of the University; but if I, coward as I was,\n  had not yet made up my mind, as I had, that I must run the chance of\n  his shot, if he chose still to resent the affront, no wonder, if the\n  spoiling of my prospects in life, by expulsion from Cambridge, was\n  not much regarded. The present distress was evaded by his not\n  coming, as was expected. After this I desired one person who knew\n  him as a friend, and to whom alone I had explained my case, to write\n  and ask whether my apology had appeared to him sufficient. The\n  answer to this was an assurance that the thing had been no more\n  thought of; but it was two years before I met him in person, and by\n  his courteous manner was finally satisfied that all was right\n  between us. I might think it impossible that the great question\n  could be overlooked by men, what is to become of them in eternity,\n  if I had not had the experience of my own feelings in such an\n  occasion as this. In that memorable evening at Loughborough, I did\n  not indeed altogether overlook the moral question--Is a duel wrong?\n  I had made the most of what I had heard said in palliation of it by\n  some moralists; I could not find any ground, however, to think it\n  right before {27} God; yet the thought of having, perhaps before the\n  next day was past, to answer in the presence of God for having\n  thrown away my life in it, was not the consideration which deterred\n  me from the rash resolution. Now, how stands the world in England on\n  this question? It is clear that a Catholic, whether ecclesiastic or\n  layman, has no choice. He must either utterly renounce his religion\n  or duelling. A maintenance of the abominable practice by which\n  duelling is justified would deprive him of communion with the\n  Church. But how stand Protestants? The clergy are exempted from this\n  law by the world. But how many Protestant laymen are there of the\n  rank of gentlemen who dare to proclaim that they detest duelling,\n  and that they would sooner bear the disgrace of refusing a challenge\n  than offend God by accepting it, or run the risk of offending God?\n  for I suppose the greater part would try an argument to prove that\n  it may be excusable. The clergy generally, I believe, reckon it\n  decidedly a wicked worldly law, yet they receive laymen to communion\n  without insisting on this enormous evil being first abjured. I do\n  not, however, here propose a further discussion of the question\n  generally. To this law of the world, miserably as it tormented me\n  for a time, I believe I am indebted spiritually more than can well\n  be understood: at least to the misery which it occasioned me. I have\n  heard it related of blessed (now Saint) Alphonsus Maria di Liguori\n  that he owed his being led to bid adieu to the world and choosing\n  God for the portion of his inheritance, to making a blunder in\n  pleading a cause as an advocate. Having till that time set his\n  happiness on his worldly reputation for talent, he then clearly saw\n  how vain, were the promises of the world, and once for all he gave\n  it up. I knew not, alas! whither nor how to turn for more solid\n  consolation, and thus the spoiling of my happiness, which had\n  resulted from a mistake in a ball-room, did not teach me to be wise;\n  but it contributed materially, and most blessedly, to poison my\n  happiness at this time. Yet, in a general way, I went on gaily and\n  pleasantly enough, for serious reflections, on whatever subject it\n  might be, had no long continuance.\"\n\n{28}\n\nCHAPTER VI.\nHis First Year in Cambridge.\n\n\nWhat strikes a Catholic as the most singular feature in Protestant\neducation is the want of special training for the clergyman. A dozen\nyoung men go to the University for a dozen different purposes, and\nthere is the same rule, the same studies, the same moral discipline\nfor all. Such, at least, was the rule in the days of Mr. Spencer's\ncollege life. It seems extraordinary to the Catholic student, who has\nto learn Latin and Greek only as subsidiary instruments to his higher\nstudies; who has to read two years philosophy and four years theology,\nand pass severe examinations nine or ten different times in each,\nbesides a general one in all, before he can be qualified to receive\nthe priesthood. The clerical training with us is as different from\nthat through which young Spencer had to pass as one thing can be from\nanother.\n\nHis life for the first year may be very briefly told. He hears from\nMr. Blomfield that he is to attend divinity lectures, and he forthwith\nbegins. He is advised by a Professor Monk, afterwards Protestant\nBishop of Gloucester, to stand for a scholarship, and he does so after\ngetting Blomfield's consent. This makes him study very hard for some\ntime, and though he did not succeed, the taste he had acquired by the\npreparation did not leave him till the end of the year, when he came\nout in the first class, having left his competitors, with one\nexception, far behind. He also spends some hours every day in athletic\nexercises, is very fond of riding, goes now and again to London and\nAlthorp to amuse himself with attending the theatres, dining out,\nshooting partridge, and playing at Pope Joan. He relaxes {29} in his\ndetermination to avoid whist, and indulges so far that he puts a note\nof exclamation in his journal at having returned to his chambers one\nnight without having had a game. This seems to be the regular course\nof his life at Cambridge, a course edifying indeed, if compared with\nthe lives of his companions. He says:--\n\n  \"I have observed before that the example and conversation of Mr.\n  Blomfield, while I remained with him, gave an impulse to my mind\n  towards the love of literary pursuits. I did not think, however, of\n  exerting myself particularly in that way till the end of the first\n  term, when I was persuaded by Mr. Monk, the Greek professor, now\n  Protestant Bishop of Gloucester, to be a candidate for a university\n  scholarship. Dr. Monk was four years senior to Mr. Blomfield, and I\n  understood from him that he had been of great service to him in the\n  same way, when at college, encouraging his exertions and studies. I\n  was told that I passed this examination creditably, but I did not\n  stand so high among the competitors as to make it desirable that I\n  should repeat the attempt afterwards, and the only honours that I\n  tried for were confined to Trinity College. I was thus stimulated\n  during this time to more than common exertions; it gave me a\n  disposition to study which continued through my time at Cambridge,\n  and was the only good disposition which was encouraged in me. I have\n  reason then to remember with gratitude those who helped me in this\n  way; though it is a lamentable thing that, being there professedly\n  as a student for the church, in what is the proper seminary for\n  ecclesiastics of the Church of England, I cannot call to mind one\n  word of advice given me by anyone among my superiors or companions\n  to guard me against the terrible dangers with which I was surrounded\n  of being entirely corrupted, or to dispose me towards some little\n  care of my spiritual concerns.\n\n  \"My studies I followed with great zeal all the time I was at\n  Cambridge; but, as is generally the case there with those that aim\n  at places in the public examinations, I managed them without proper\n  distribution of time. By running through the journal I kept at the\n  time I find that, when {30} first I began to read hard, I have often\n  sat without moving from my table and read the clock round, that is,\n  from three or four in the afternoon to the same hour the next\n  morning, for the sake of doing what was counted an extraordinary\n  feat. There is no doubt that reading with regularity a smaller\n  number of hours every day would be more available for the attainment\n  of learning than these immoderate surfeits of study, as one may call\n  them; I only interposed a few days of amusement, when hardly any\n  work was done. In the long run, such a course as mine could not\n  answer, for it was sure to hurt the health and prevent the\n  attainment of the real end of all a young man's studies, which is,\n  acquiring knowledge to be turned to account in after life. Few young\n  men at Oxford or Cambridge, I suppose, have wisdom enough to\n  calculate this in advance. The object which they aim at is present\n  distinction, and outstripping their fellows in the race for college\n  prizes; and, as far as my experience goes, a glut of reading, if the\n  health does but stand it without breaking down, is the way to make\n  the most of one's chance at a public examination.\n\n  \"The time of my being at Cambridge is one so interesting to me in\n  the recollection, that I cannot satisfy myself, when giving an\n  account of my progress through life, without dwelling at some length\n  upon it. My college course was not very long. At the time when I was\n  at Cambridge, honorary degrees were conferred on the sons of\n  noblemen at the end of two years' residence, by which they came to\n  the enjoyment of the rank and all the privileges of a Master of\n  Arts, which title was not to be attained, in the ordinary course, in\n  less than six or seven years. And what shortens the college life\n  much more is the extravagant length of the vacations; so that what\n  is reckoned one year at Cambridge is not more than five months'\n  actual residence in the University. Yet this is a most important and\n  critical period, and the short two years during which I was an\n  undergraduate at Cambridge were of immense importance in my destiny.\n  How vast is the good, of which I have learned the loss, but which I\n  might have gained, had I then known how to direct my views! On the\n  other hand, how {31} may I bless God for the quantity of evil from\n  which I have been preserved, and how wonderful has been my\n  preservation! When I remember how destitute I was of religion at\n  this time, I must say that I have to wonder rather at my being\n  preserved from so much evil, than at my having fallen into so much.\n  And how can I bless God for his exceeding goodness of which I am now\n  reminded, when I think how, against my own perverse will, against my\n  foolish, I must say mad wishes, I was prevented by his Providence\n  from being at this time irrevocably ruined and lost? What can I\n  return to Him for this blessing? One principal intention in my\n  present work is to record the sentiments of gratitude, however weak\n  and most unworthy, with which I at least desire my soul to be\n  inflamed, and which I hope will engage all the powers of my soul\n  throughout eternity. Most gladly, if it were for His honour and for\n  the edification of one soul which by the narrative might reap\n  instruction, I would enter before all the world into a more detailed\n  explanation of this my wonderful deliverance; but this I must not\n  do, for I must not be the means that others, hitherto in the\n  simplicity of holy ignorance, should be made acquainted with the\n  dark iniquity of which the knowledge has once infected my own\n  unhappy understanding. Be this enough to say on this point, which I\n  was obliged to touch, lest it should seem unreasonable that I should\n  speak of my case as one of most marvellous and almost unparalleled\n  mercy, when the circumstances which I may now detail, and what are\n  generally known among my most intimate companions, do not justify\n  such feelings in the review of it.\n\n  \"By the great mercy of God, I had provided for me a refuge and, as\n  it were, a breathing time, between Eton and Cambridge. At Mr.\n  Blomfield's, my progress in evil was checked, and I had time to\n  prepare myself for the University with good resolutions, though I\n  knew not what sort of trials I should meet with there, nor had I\n  learnt how unavailing were my best resolutions to support me, while\n  yet I had not wholly put my confidence in God's grace. The vacation\n  which came between my leaving Dunton and going to Cambridge I spent\n  chiefly in the Isle of Wight, and my {32} soul was almost wholly\n  occupied that summer about cricket. I never became a great cricketer\n  myself; I had lost the best time for gaining the art while at Eton;\n  but, this summer, what perseverance and diligence could do to make\n  up for lost time, I think I did. Oh! that I might have the same\n  degree of zeal now in serving the Church of God, and collecting and\n  instructing a faithful flock, as I then had in seeking out, and\n  encouraging and giving and procuring instruction for my troop of\n  cricketers. The occupation of my mind on this subject was enough to\n  drive away any ardent attention to religion as well as to study. I\n  may say, in favour of this passion for cricket, that it was one of\n  the pursuits which I took to at the recommendation of my mother. I\n  remember generally that when anything in the way of amusement or\n  serious occupation was suggested to me by her, or anything else but\n  my own fancy, nothing more was required to make me have a distaste\n  for it. Otherwise, how many useful accomplishments might I have\n  gained which would now have been available to the great objects I\n  have before me. My dear mother wished me to learn fencing when I was\n  at Eton, and a good deal of time I spent, and a good deal of money\n  must have been paid by my father to Mr. Angelo, the fencing-master\n  who came to Eton. It might have been better for me to have gained\n  perfection in this exercise, by which it is related that St. Francis\n  of Sales acquired in part that elegance of manner and nobleness of\n  carriage through which he gained so many souls to Christ. While\n  other boys made fencing their amusement, I always would have it as a\n  task, and of course gained nothing by it. At a later period, when we\n  were at Naples, and I had a weakness in my eyes which made such an\n  employment suitable, my mother would have had me learn music. She\n  gave me a guitar, and would have paid for my lessons; but I could\n  not take to it, and have thus lost the advantage which, since I have\n  become a Catholic, I should have so much valued of understanding the\n  science of music, seeing that the trifling knowledge I do possess is\n  of so much use. There is the apology, then, for my cricket mania;\n  that she proposed my taking to it in the {33} summer I speak of. I\n  was surprised to find myself willing to acquiesce in the suggestion.\n  What I did take to I generally followed excessively, and she did not\n  calculate on the violence with which I followed up this. I got into\n  very little bad company by means of this pursuit, and perhaps, on\n  the whole, I rather gained than lost by it. It was manly and\n  healthful, and though, when in the heat of it, I thought it almost\n  impossible I should ever give it up, yet when I took Orders I did\n  give it up; and if it was in itself of no use, I hope that one\n  sacrifice, among the many I was obliged to make and, thank God, did\n  willingly make to more important objects, it was not without value.\n  Thus much for my cricketing; I mention it here as being the only\n  distinct cause to which I can attribute my losing before I went to\n  Cambridge the habits of serious thought and of regular prayer, which\n  I have observed I regained in a good degree towards the latter part\n  of my Dunton time.\n\n  \"I nevertheless was full of good purposes. I desired and was\n  resolved to keep myself from giving countenance to immorality as\n  well as practising it, though after having once given way at Eton, I\n  hardly ever dared to say a word or even to give a look in\n  disapproval of whatever might be said or done before me by bold\n  profligates. I could not bear to appear out of the fashion; so that\n  when other boys at Eton used to talk of the balls and gay parties\n  which they had been to in their holidays, I was quite ashamed, when\n  asked what I had done, to say that I had been to no balls; for to my\n  mother I am greatly indebted for her wise conduct in this respect,\n  that she did not, as was done by others, make us men before our\n  time. So, although I detested and from my heart condemned the\n  fashionable immoralities of the young men with whom I came to be\n  associated about the time of my going to Cambridge, I hardly dared\n  declare my mind, except sometimes, almost in confidence, to one who\n  seemed to be like myself. Oh! what good might I have done had I then\n  known the value of God's grace, and, despising the world, boldly\n  stood up for the cause of virtue, at the same time continuing to be\n  gay and cheerful with my companions, and taking a leading part {34}\n  in all innocent and manly diversions, and in the objects of\n  honourable emulation which were set before me and my fellows. I know\n  how much I might have done by supporting others, weak like myself,\n  by acting at this time as I ought to have done, by what I felt\n  myself on one or two occasions when such support was given me. I\n  thank God that the memory of my brother Robert, who died in 1830,\n  commanding the _Madagascar_, near Alexandria, now rises before me to\n  claim my grateful acknowledgment as having twice given me such help\n  at a critical time. Never was a man more calculated than he to get\n  on, as it is said, in the world. He was brave and enterprising, and\n  skilled in all that might make him distinguished in his profession;\n  at the same time he was most eager in the pursuit of field sports\n  and manly amusements; and in society was one of the most agreeable\n  and popular men of his day. Once I remember complaining to him that\n  I was ashamed of having nothing to say before some ladies about\n  balls, when I was about sixteen. 'What a wretched false shame is\n  that!' said he to me. From that time I became more ashamed of my\n  shame than I had been before of my want of fashion. More important\n  yet was the service he did me when he was about to go on one of his\n  cruises as commander of the _Ganymede_. I was talking with him, the\n  last evening before he left London, about the Easter before I went\n  to Cambridge. He knew well what I should be exposed to better than I\n  did and charged me to take care never to laugh or look pleased when\n  I was forced to hear immoral conversation. What rare advice was this\n  from the mouth of a gay, gallant young officer; and if there were\n  more of his character who were not ashamed to give it to their young\n  brothers and friends, how many might be saved, who are now lost,\n  because they do not see one example to show how a manly, fashionable\n  character can be maintained with strict morality and modesty. These\n  few words from him were of infinite service to me. They made deep\n  impression on me at the time I heard them, and the resolution which\n  I then made continued with me till after I had been some time at\n  Cambridge, when the battle I had to bear against the universal\n  fashion {35} of iniquity once more, as formerly, at Eton, proved too\n  strong for me, and I again gave way. My fall now was gradual. I\n  began with the resolution to avoid all expenses which would\n  embarrass me with debts, and to keep from several fashionable\n  amusements which would engage too much time. For awhile, on this\n  account, I would not play at cards; but in less than half-a-year\n  this determination failed, and I wasted many an evening at whist of\n  my short college life. I soon grew careless, too, about my expenses,\n  and should have been involved in great embarrassments, had it not\n  been for my brother's (Lord Althorp's) generosity, who, hearing from\n  me at the end of my first year that I was in debt, gave me more than\n  enough to clear it all away; and, thus having enabled me to set my\n  affairs again in order, was the means of saving me from ever\n  afterwards going beyond my means extravagantly. I might, however,\n  have given way in some such resolutions as not playing at cards; I\n  might have entered into some expenses which I shunned at first,\n  without losing my peace of mind, and again defiling my conscience,\n  of which the good condition was partly restored; but these were not\n  the crying evils of the place. In the set with which I was now\n  associated in the University, gambling was not at that time much\n  practised, and not at all insisted on. There were occasional drunken\n  parties, and it was with difficulty that I kept out of them; but the\n  system of violently forcing people to drink, as well at the\n  Universities as throughout genteel society in England, had fallen\n  off before my time. There were some sets where drinking was\n  practised at Cambridge much more excessively than in what called\n  itself the best set of all. I could not help, without offending the\n  laws of society, being present at a considerable number of dinners\n  and suppers where men drank immoderately, but I was permitted to\n  keep myself sober without much difficulty; one or two gave me\n  countenance thus far, though any intimation of disapproving of what\n  others did, on religious or moral grounds, I felt would not have\n  been anyways tolerated; and so I ventured not. Swearing was among\n  them rather unfashionable than {36} not. Some undergraduates were\n  notorious for profane and impious language; and this was excused,\n  and tolerated, and made fun of, but it was not common, and many\n  among us made no difficulty of condemning it. I therefore never fell\n  into this habit. The crying, universal, and most frightful evil of\n  the place was open immorality. There was at Cambridge, in my time, a\n  religious set, who were sometimes called Simeonites, from Mr.\n  Simeon, one of the great leaders and promoters of the Evangelical\n  party in these latter days, who was minister of one of the small\n  churches in Cambridge, and for many years attracted into his\n  influence a certain number of young men. Among these open vice was\n  not countenanced; but not so the set to which I principally\n  belonged, and these were as distinct as if they had not belonged to\n  the same University. I was introduced to some few of these, and\n  rather valued myself on having an acquaintance with them, as well as\n  with many of the purely reading men; and my fashionable friends did\n  not altogether object to it, though I was generally a little ashamed\n  at being seen with any of them, and avoided any frequent intercourse\n  with them. I have wondered since that, if it were only from mere\n  curiosity, I should never once have gone to hear Simeon preach, but\n  so it was. I understood nothing whatever of what is in England\n  called Evangelical religion. Indeed, I thought nothing of religion;\n  had I paid any attention to it at this time, I could hardly have\n  escaped seeing how desperate was the course which I was following,\n  and I might perhaps have taken a strong resolution, and have joined\n  the serious party at once; but, very likely, I should have found the\n  power of fashion at that time too great, and, by knowing more of\n  religion, should only have made my conscience more guilty; and so I\n  believe it may be better that none ever spoke to me on the subject\n  all the time. I repeat it, that in our set, whatever other deviation\n  from the most established fashion was tolerated, any maintenance of\n  chastity or modesty was altogether proscribed. It was not long,\n  then, before I found myself beat out of the position I endeavoured\n  to maintain. During the first term I stood my ground rather better.\n  One reason for this was, {37} that among what were called the\n  freshmen--that is, those who entered with me on my college life,\n  there were several who were not initiated in vicious practices.\n  These, remaining for a time more or less in their simplicity, gave\n  me some countenance in not going at once in the way of the veteran\n  professors of evil. But as I saw some of them grow by degrees\n  shameless and bold, and soon beginning to join their older brethren\n  in upbraiding my weakness and folly for not being like the rest, I\n  found all my resolution failing, and, alas! many a deliberation did\n  I take whether I should not at length enter the same way with them.\n  I was still withheld, though it was not the fear of God which\n  restrained me. I knew that my entering a course of open profligacy\n  would not be tolerated by my parents. I had a character for\n  steadiness among the tutors and fellows of the college, which I was\n  ashamed to lose; though even before them I found it sometimes to\n  answer best not to appear different from other young men. Besides,\n  as I had resisted the first period of attacks, and established among\n  my companions a kind of character of my own, I felt that even they\n  would be astonished if I at last declared myself as one of their\n  sort. I could not bear the thought of their triumph, and the horrid\n  congratulations with which I should be greeted, if once I was found\n  going along with them in open feats of iniquity. Oh! how grievous is\n  the reflection that by such motives as these I was restrained. I was\n  longing often to be like them. I could not bear the taunts which\n  were sometimes made at me. Here again some of the old Etonians\n  perhaps would bring up the remembrance of my ancient propensity to\n  blush, and would take pleasure in putting me again to confusion.\n  Occasionally, by strange interpositions of Divine Providence, I was\n  hindered from accomplishing purposes of evil which I had, in a sort\n  of desperation, resolved by myself to perpetrate, by way of being\n  decided one way or other, like a man on the brink of a precipice\n  determining to throw himself down in order to escape the uneasy\n  apprehension of his danger. One way or another I was restrained, so\n  that it has afterwards appeared to me as if I had but barely stopped\n  short of {38} taking the last decisive steps by which I might be\n  irrevocably ranked among the reprobate. I never thought at the time\n  of this danger, otherwise I could hardly have borne my existence;\n  but, as it was, my mind at times was gloomy and miserable in the\n  extreme. To make me yet more so, at the end of my first year I began\n  to be afflicted with bilious attacks, arising, perhaps, from my\n  imprudent management in regard to study, to diet, and to hours; and\n  these occasioned exceeding depression of spirits, under which I used\n  to fancy myself the most unhappy of creatures. I had no knowledge of\n  the power of religion to set me free, and make me superior to all\n  external sensible causes of depression, and I knew no better than to\n  give myself up to my low feelings when they came upon me, till some\n  distraction removed them, or till the fit passed away of itself.\n  Many times at Cambridge, in order to hold up my head in a noisy\n  company after dinner, I drank wine to raise my spirits, though not\n  to great excess, yet enough to teach me by experience how mistaken\n  is the calculation of those who, when in sorrow, seek to cheer\n  themselves in that way, or in any way but by having recourse to God\n  by prayer and acts of resignation. I remember well once being told\n  by a good aunt of mine, that it was quite wrong to give way to my\n  depression, about which I one day complained to her, and that\n  religion would surely cure it; but the time was not come for me to\n  understand this truth, and I took no notice of her words.\n\n  \"In the meantime I continued zealous about my studies. I did not\n  stop to ask _cui bono_ was I working in them. Had I seen how utterly\n  vain was a first-class place or a Trinity prize-book, which I had\n  set before me as the object of my labours, I should have found but\n  little consolation and refreshment to my melancholy reflections in\n  these pursuits. On the contrary, I should only have pined away with\n  a more complete sense of the truth of the Wise man's sentence which\n  Almighty God was teaching me in His own way, and in His own good\n  time: '_Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity_' but to serve Thee\n  only. I do not mean that if rightly followed, such academical\n  honours are worth nothing. I wish {39} I had followed them more\n  prudently and effectually. They were the objects set before me by my\n  superiors at the time, and I should say to another in my place that\n  he should do his best to gain the highest place in a spirit of\n  obedience, and for the honour of God, to whom we owe all the credit\n  and influence in the world which, by just and honourable exertions,\n  we can gain. In recollecting, therefore, how I exerted myself, and\n  succeeded in these attempts, I am dwelling on one of the most happy\n  points of view which that part of my life suggests to me; for though\n  I did not do this _as_ I ought, yet I was doing _what_ I ought, and\n  by doing so was preserved from much evil, and God knows how far the\n  creditable footing I gained at Cambridge in the studies of the place\n  may yet be available for a good end.\"\n\nIt is hard to believe young Spencer was so utterly devoid of religion\nas he here describes himself to be; we draw a more favourable\ninference from a journal he kept at the time. Noticing the death of\nthe Princess Charlotte, he says: \"It appears to be the greatest\ncalamity that could have befallen us in public, and it is a deplorable\nevent in a private point of view. It must be ascribed to the\ninterposition of Providence, which must have some end in view beyond\nour comprehension.\" He speaks of the death of Mrs. Blomfield thus--\"It\nis for her a happy event, after a life so well spent as hers has\nbeen.\" A few pages further on he has these words about the death of\nanother friend of his. \"I was extremely shocked to-day at hearing that\nJames Hornby died last Friday of apoplexy. It was but a short time\npast that I was corresponding with him about the death of Mrs.\nBlomfield; and little he or I thought that he would be the next to go.\nThe last year and a half I stayed at Eton I lived in the greatest\nintimacy with him, which had afterwards fallen away a little; but he\nwas very clever and promising, and I always was fond of him. It must\nbe a wise dispensation of Providence, and may be intended as a warning\nto us, in addition to those we have lately had in the deaths of\nMaitland and Dundas. God grant it may be an effectual one!\"\n\nThese are not the spontaneous expressions of one altogether {40} a\nstranger to piety, though they may very well be put down as the\ntransient vibration of chords that had long lain still in his heart,\nand which these rude shocks must have touched and made audibly heard\nonce more. This conclusion is more in accordance with other remarks\nfound scattered here and there in the same journal. He criticises\nsermons and seems to like none; he is regular at chapel and puts on\nhis surplice on the days appointed; but he refuses to take the\nsacrament for no conceivable reason but that he does not care about\nit, and hears it is administered unbecomingly. He is shrewd and\nconsiderate in his remarks upon persons and things; yet there is\nscarcely a line of scandal or uncharitableness in the whole closely\nwritten volume. When he records a drunken fit or a row, he suppresses\nthe names of the rioters; and if he says a sharp word about a person\nin one page, he makes ample amends for it in many pages afterwards; by\nshowing how mistaken he was at first, and how agreeable it was to him\nto change his opinion upon a longer acquaintance. This might not\nappear very high praise; but let us take notice of his age and\ncircumstances, and then perhaps it may have its value. He was a young\nman, just turned eighteen; he had been brought up in splendour at\nhome, and in a poisonous atmosphere at school. That he was not the\nvilest of the vile is to be wondered at more than that he preserved as\nmuch goodness as he did. Where is the young man, of even excellent\ntraining, who will be able to contend, unaided and taunted, against a\nwhole college of the finest youth of any country? His motives may be\nbeneath a Christian's standard, but the fact that with this weak\narmour, the bare shadow of what it might be, he made such noble\nresistance and passed almost unscathed through the furnace into which\nhe was cast, only shows what he would have done had he been imbued\nwith the teachings of a higher order. The very human respect and\nworldly considerations that succeeded in keeping him from vice,\nacquire a respectability and a status in the catalogue of\npreservatives from the fact of their being successful in his case. His\nwas a fine mind, and one is moved to tears at seeing this noble\nmaterial for sanctity thus tossed {41} about and buffeted by a herd of\ncapricious companions who could not see its beauty. Let us take up any\nyoung man's journal of his age and read some pages of it, what shall\nwe find? Jokes played upon green freshmen, tricks for outdoing\nproctors, records of follies, or perchance pompous unreality put on to\nconceal all these or worse. His diary is the generous utterance of a\nnoble mind; it is candid, true, conscientious, and puts a failing and\na perfection of the writer side by side. It is no wonder that he was\nloved and courted, and that his companions had acquired an esteem for\nhim in college, which years and toils have not succeeded in lessening.\nHis keen grief at the deficiencies of his college life only shows to\nwhat height of sanctity he had reached, when what another might boast\nof wrung from him these lamentations.\n\n{42}\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nConclusion Of His First Year In Cambridge.\n\n\nThe events recorded in his journal at this time could very\nconveniently be swelled into chapters, if one had a mind to be\ndiffuse. To trace the fortunes of the gentlemen he comes in contact\nwith--Denison, Wodehouse, Carlisle, Hildyard, Brougham, and a host of\nothers, who afterwards shone in different circles, High Church\ncontroversies, pleadings at the bar, parliamentary debates, and Irish\nLord-lieutenancies,--would form some very interesting episodes. We\nshould add many titles to the off-handed surnames of the collegian's\njournal, and say a few words about how those dignities were procured,\nearned, and worn by the possessors. It might be, perhaps, interesting\nto some readers to know how many gay young noblemen were enticed into\nbecoming sons-in-law to some very reverend doctors. All this and more\nMr. Spencer notes down in the journal, but it is not our theme.\n\n  \"I have before observed that about my first Christmas I was\n  encouraged by Mr. Monk and by Mr. Blomfield, who had removed from\n  Dunton and lived then about ten miles from Cambridge, to undertake a\n  contest for a University prize; but from this I afterwards drew\n  back. I followed up then principally the object of getting into the\n  first class at the Trinity College examinations, which took place at\n  the end of each year, and which is an honour much esteemed, on\n  account of that College standing so high in the University, though\n  of course it is not on a level with the honours gained in\n  examinations where competitors are admitted from the whole body of\n  students in the University. It was one object of silly ambition at\n  Cambridge to do well in the examinations without having appeared to\n  {43} take much trouble about it. During my second term I fell into\n  the idea of aiming a little at this, and I went to many more\n  parties, and took more time for various amusements, particularly\n  cards, than I allowed myself in the first term. Had I not been\n  checked for this, I should probably have lost much ground in my\n  race. But a check did come to me at Easter, when I went to town, and\n  one evening expressed to my father and mother something of\n  self-congratulation for having united so much amusement with my\n  studies. My mother saw the danger I was now falling into, and, as it\n  seemed to me, with too great severity, for an hour together\n  represented to me the absurdity of my notions, and upbraided me with\n  going the way to disappoint all their prospects. I had no thought of\n  bringing such a reproof upon myself, and went to bed actually crying\n  with mortification. However, it had its effect, and I was thankful\n  for it afterwards. The next term, which was the last and critical\n  one before the examination, I spent in very severe and regular\n  study, and cared not how some idle ones might derogate from my\n  success, and comfort themselves for their inferiority by the\n  thought, that I had read so hard as to take away from my merit. At\n  length, on the 18th May, 1818, the very day, as I observed, on\n  which, ten years before, I had gone to Eton, I went into the\n  examinations in which was to be gained the little share of credit in\n  this way which was to fall to my lot. They lasted for a week; and, a\n  day or two after, I received a note from Mr. Amos, now a\n  distinguished ...... in London, who was one of the examiners, and a\n  great friend of mine, which filled me with exultation: 'I have the\n  greatest pleasure in informing you that you are in the first class.\n  Ollivant is only eight marks above you, and you and he have left all\n  the rest of the class at a long, very long, distance.' I afterwards\n  learnt that the highest number of the marks was between 1,600 and\n  1,700, and that while Ollivant and I were near together at the head,\n  the next to me was at the distance of 291. Lord Graham, now Duke of\n  Montrose, was one of the first class, and if he had read as much as\n  I did, there is no doubt he would have been before {44} me. I was\n  told at the same time that I learnt the above-named particulars, as\n  I find it in my journal, that 'I was best in mathematics, and\n  Grahame next, although Grahame was first in algebra;' after which I\n  thus expressed my ambition at the time: 'I hope that Grahame will\n  not read for next year's examination, and if my eyes last out (for\n  at that time I was under some apprehension on that point) I may have\n  a chance of being first then, which would be delightful.' Such is\n  all earthly ambition, and, as in my case, so always its\n  effects--disappointment and mortification. Had I offered all my\n  studies to God, and worked for Him, depending on His help, I should\n  have done much more. I should have enjoyed my successes more purely,\n  and should have been guarded from all disappointment. The second\n  year's examination is much more confined to mathematics than to\n  classics, and had I been wise and regular and well-disciplined in my\n  mind, I might have gained that _first_ place which I was aiming at,\n  for Grahame did not read for it. As it was, Ollivant, who was some\n  way behind me in the first year, got up his ground, and beat me in\n  the second year's examination, in which, though I was second again,\n  I had no remarkable superiority over the one who came next to me.\"\n\nSpencer formed the acquaintance of Sir Thomas Fremantle while they\nwere both at Dunton under the charge of Mr. Blomfield. Fremantle went\nto Oxford and he to Cambridge, but they continued the intimacy, begun\nhere, to which Spencer pays cordial tributes of unfeigned gratitude.\nSir Thomas was a welcome guest at Althorp; he and George used to spur\neach other on to renewed exertions in the pursuit of literary honours.\nSpencer formed a plan for the long vacation, and went, on March 25, to\nOxford, to lay the subject before Fremantle; it was, that they should\ngo somewhere and read together. Spencer got into the coach in London,\nand arrived in Oxford at twelve at night. He lionised the place next\nday, was introduced to different celebrities, and dined and \"wined\" in\nthe most select companies his friends, Fremantle and Lord Wilton,\ncould muster for his reception. He lived during the time in the rooms\nof a {45} fellow commoner of Oriel. He did not leave a single\ndepartment unvisited. He played at tennis with a Mr. Denison; compared\nthe agreements and disagreements of their ways there with those of\nCambridge; the only thing noteworthy he chose to put down in his\ndiary, as the result of his comparison, is, that (when he plays cards\nin W ***'s rooms, where there are four tables) \"they play high, and I\ndo not like the kind of party so well as those at Cambridge.\"\n\nSpencer continued in Cambridge, and read, or idled, as the tone of his\nmind directed, until the 31st of July, 1818. This morning he set off,\nat half-past five, in the _Rising Sun_, for Birmingham; he falls in\nwith a brilliant Etonian, who recounts the progress of things at his\nold school; and has to sleep in what he calls \"the most uncomfortable\nand uncivil inn I have ever seen.\" He sets off on another coach next\nmorning for Shrewsbury, and finds, to his agreeable surprise, that\nFremantle travelled by the inside of the same vehicle. They both\ntravel together into Wales, having first procured a supply of candles,\ntea, and other commodities for housekeeping, which they did not hope\nto find at hand where they were going to. After many long stages,\nup-hill and down-hill, among Welsh mountains, and strange\nfellow-travellers, they arrive at Towyn, at ten o'clock at night on\nthe 2nd of August, having been nearly three days performing a journey\nwhich can now be accomplished in a few hours.\n\nTowyn is a little town in Merionethshire, situated on the sea coast,\non a neck of land formed by a graceful little creek, into which the\nRiver Doluny empties itself, and a kind of sloping arm of the channel.\nHere Spencer and Fremantle took up their residence for the long\nvacation, in a nice little house for which they paid ten guineas a\nmonth. They had the whole premises to themselves, with a waiting-man\nnamed Davis, and a maid Kitty. Their mode of life was very regular.\nThey rose early, bathed in the sea, which rolled its waves against\ntheir premises, breakfasted, and studied till two o'clock. It was\ncustomary with them then to go out exploring with dog and gun until\ndinner, dine at five, take another stroll, and read again until they\nthought it time to take tea, {46} and chat until bed-time. Each in\nturn was steward for a week; they purchased their own provisions in\nthe little town, thus making a regular home there for the term of\ntheir stay. They read pretty well for the first week or two;\nafterwards they got so fond of brisk air and the adventures they came\nacross in their daily walks, that the reading became less agreeable,\nand soon irksome. The first adventure recorded in the journal is the\nfollowing. They were both returning home after a two hours' vain\npursuit of game, and came across a gouty old gentleman, who asked them\na number of impertinent questions. He then asked them to dine, but\nfinding out on inquiry that he was \"a notorious blackguard,\" although\ngreat in lands and money, they politely declined his invitation.\nAnother time they rode a great way up the country and stopped at a\npretty place, which they found, to their chagrin, not to be a fairy\ncastle exactly, but \"a grand shop for gossip, kept by two old ladies,\nassisted by a third,\" at whose qualifications in point of age the\nreader is left to make guesses. Another day they went out to shoot,\nand met another serious adventure, which is thus noted: \"I got an\nimmense ducking in a black mud ditch, which came up to my middle or\nhigher, and Fremantle got a wetting too, but not so serious as mine.\"\nThings go on smoothly now for about a week; they receive several\nvisits from neighbouring gentry, and the way in which the return to\nsome of them is described gives us a fair specimen of the flow of\nspirits Spencer enjoyed at the time. \"Saturday, Aug. 15.--We made\nourselves greater bucks than usual to-day, and set off at two to call\non Mr. Scott, near Aberdovey. He takes pupils there. We came home to\ndinner at half-past five; and after dinner (still greater bucks) we\nwent to drink tea at Bodalog, with Mr. and Mrs. Jeffreys, and came\nhome at half-past ten (14 miles walking).\" The next adventure was one\nin which they tried their hands at shooting on the river with Mr.\nJeffreys' long gun; whether the weight of the instrument, or an effort\nto reach the game that it killed, drew them nearer the water than they\nintended, he tells us that they \"got quite soused in the water,\" and\nfigured at the gentleman's dinner-table in two complete sets of the\napparel of {47} the old man, to the no small amusement of the company.\nNothing remarkable occurred after this to the two friends, except a\ntrip to Aberystwyth, where they lodged a few days, met a few old\nacquaintances, and enjoyed a ball that was given to the ladies and\ngentlemen who were there for the season; until the 14th of September.\nThis day they had a great battle of words with their landlord, who did\nnot like their leaving him so soon: in this, however, they came off\nvictorious. They both travel through Wales, visit Snowdon, Carnarvon,\nand meet a body of Cambridge men reading with a tutor at Conway.\n\nSeptember 29th, he took the mail to London, and thus ended his long\nvacation. He stays at Wimbledon with his own family until the time for\nreturning to Cambridge again. He relates in the journal that a man\ncomes to teach Lady Spencer, his mother, how to bind books. This may\nbe thought a strange kind of recreation for a lady of high rank; but\nit will not when we read that \"this was the same person who set off\nthe fashion of _shoemaking_!\"\n\nHe concludes his first year in Cambridge thus:--\"This day's journal\ncompletes a year from the time I began to keep my history. It has\nindeed been an important year in my life the first in which I have\nbeen my own master, and have, I fear, settled my character with all\nits faults. Several things which I have both done and undone I shall\nnever cease regretting. I have only to _thank God_ that there is no\nmore reason for regret. With my reading, on the whole, I am as well\nsatisfied as I ever expected.\" Two words are underlined in this\nextract; they were often on his lips till the day of his death, and\nfrequently formed the subject of his sermons. If his character had its\nfaults settled with it in his own estimation, it is pleasing to see\nthe habit of resignation existing as a virtue in him even at this age.\nIt was one that was confirmed in him afterwards, to an eminent degree.\n\n{48}\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nSecond Year In Cambridge--Takes His Degree.\n\nDuring the first term of his second year in Cambridge, his average\nhours of reading decreased; yet he had still a taste for study, and\nhad not yet thrown aside what remained of his former ambition to\ndistinguish himself. He and the Duke of Montrose declaim on the\nrespective merits of Charles V. and Francis I.; they tossed up for\nsides, and Charles V. fell to Spencer. This keeps him at hard study\nfor some time; meanwhile he hears Ollivant declaim, and thinks he will\nget both prizes. After the declamation, in which he comes off more\ncreditably than he expected, he has half a hope of a prize, which he\nsays he should be surprised though delighted to receive. He did get\none, but not so high as he expected. Here and there in his journal at\nthis time a few expressions of discontent escape from him about\nCambridge; the cause being partially what has been related in the\nchapter before last. This had also, conjointly with another\ncircumstance, the effect of cutting short his University career. He\nwrites in the autobiography:--\n\n  \"I made some good progress during this year, but I should have done\n  much more had I been constantly regular. I must have suffered great\n  loss by my interruptions, as I find by my journal that for about\n  four weeks at the end of the long vacation, when I had come home and\n  was taken up with shooting, I did not make one hour's study; and two\n  more long intervals of cessation from reading took place in the\n  Christmas and Easter vacations, when a little steady application, if\n  it were but for three hours a-day, would have kept my mind\n  attentive, and given me a great advantage. After my first\n  examination, I entertained some thoughts {49} of waiving my\n  privilege of taking an honorary degree, and going through the Senate\n  House examinations with a view to University honours; but I lost all\n  wish to remain at Cambridge towards the end of the second autumn. I\n  was at times quite disgusted with the place, for such reasons as I\n  have stated; besides which, my father and mother had made a plan,\n  which pleased me greatly, of going for a year on the Continent, in\n  which I was to accompany them. My brother Frederick, who was come\n  home about this time, was to be of the party likewise, and happy was\n  I in the prospect of being again some time in his company; but as an\n  opportunity occurred for him to go to South America, with Sir Thomas\n  Hardy, with the hope of being made Commander, this professional\n  advantage was justly preferred.\"\n\nSome of the heads at Cambridge as well as Lady Spencer urged him at\nthis time to stand for a fellowship, but he gave up the idea, and it\nended in his joining a new club they had formed--the Eton club. These\nclubs at the Universities are looked upon with no great favour by\nproctors and others who have charge of the morals of the students.\nTheir dinners entail great expenses on the members, and they end as\nthe first meeting did in his case: \"They all made an enormous row, and\nI too, by the bye.\" He came to spend the Christmas of 1818 at Althorp,\nand closes the year with a succession of parties, Pope Joan, and\nbookbinding. There is one little incident recorded in his journal at\nthis time which gives us a perfect insight into his character. One\nmight expect that at this age, nineteen, he would be very romantic and\ndreamy, and that we should find many allusions to those topics which\nengross so much of the time of novel-reading youths and maidens\nnowadays. Nothing of the sort. There is an affair of the heart, but\nhis conduct in it, with his remarks on it, are worthy of a\nsexagenarian. At a party, which took place at his father's, he dances\nwith various young ladies, among the rest a certain Miss A., who, he\nsays, \"was a great flame of mine two years ago; she is not so pretty\nas I thought her then, but she is a delightful partner. I was again in\nlove, but not violently to-night.\" Two or three days after this, he is\nat another party, and {50} dances with a new set of partners to the\nextent of three quadrilles. Of one of these he thus speaks--\"I was\ndelighted with Miss B., who is a pleasant unaffected girl, and I am\ndoomed to think of her I suppose for two or three days instead of Miss\nA. I was provoked that she would not give me her fan at parting.\" Was\nit not cool and thoughtful of him to mark out the time such a change\nof sentiment was likely to last? The next page of the journal brings\nthe subject before us still more clearly. His mother took him for a\nwalk around Althorp, and told him that she was planning a house for\nthe parsonage at Brington: \"Which they say is to be mine when I am old\nenough; it might be made a most comfortable and even a pretty place,\nand if I live to come to it I can figure to myself some happy years\nthere with a fond partner of my joys, if I can meet with a good one.\n'Here then, and with thee, my N.' [Footnote 2] would have been my\nlanguage some time ago; but how my opinions even of such important\nthings change with my increasing years. This thought often occurs to\nme, and will I hope prevent me from ever making any engagements which\ncannot be broken, in case my fancy should be altered during the time\nwhich must elapse before the completion of them.\" It will be seen,\nfurther on in the biography, how this affair ended. There is a very\ngood lesson in what he has left for young men of his age. If reason\nwere allowed to direct the affections, many would be preserved from\nrash steps that embitter their whole lives. It seems amusing to a\nCatholic to find the prospects of a clergyman's happiness so very\ncommonplace; but it will be a relief to learn by-and-by how very\ndifferent were his ideas when he became a clergyman, and built and\ndwelt in that identical parsonage that now existed only in his own and\nhis mother's mind. He gets a commission in the Northamptonshire\nYeomanry before returning to Cambridge for Hilary term this year.\n\n  [Footnote 2: A quotation, as the reader may remember,\n  from _Guy Mannering_.]\n\nStudies seem to him a necessary evil now, and he writes with a kind of\na sigh of relief when he notes, a few pages on, that he has taken his\nlast compulsory lesson in Latin. {51} Balls and parties of all kinds\nare his rage. George and a friend of his had notice of a ball coming\noff in Northampton in a few days, and he heard that his \"ladye love\"\nwould be one of the company, so they determined to be there. He writes\nletters, gets an invitation for his friend, and makes all the\npreparation possible for a week previous. The day comes, it is rainy;\nbut, no matter, they pack their best suits into trunks, bring the\nnecessary apparatus for making a good appearance, they search the town\nfor a conveyance, and at length procure a team for a tandem at\nJordan's. Off they go, eighteen miles the first stage, then eight\nmore; they bait their horses and dine; off again for full sixteen\nmiles. He has also to run the risk of a cross-examination from\nwhatever members of his family he may happen to meet at the ball, and\nto answer the difficult question, \"What brought you here?\" It is\nraining in torrents, it is a cold February day; but all difficulties\nappear trifles to the two young adventurers as they urge their team\nover the hills and plains of Northamptonshire. Even Spencer boasts in\nhis journal that he is now a first-rate whip. They arrive in high\nglee, forgetting their hardships in the glow of anticipation, and are\ngreeted with the bad news, as they jump from their conveyance, that\nthe ball has been put off until next month. To make matters worse, the\nbearer of these unfavourable tidings assured them that he wrote to\nthem to give this information, and they had an additional motive to\nchagrin in the fact of their having forgotten to ask for their letters\nin the hurry and anxiety to come off. He notes in the journal--\"Feb.\n10. We set off again in our tandem for Cambridge, truly _dimissis\nauribus_, but with a resolution to try again on the 5th March.\" On the\n5th of March they faithfully carried out this resolution. The ball\ntook place, but the ladies they were anxious to meet did not come, so\nthey only half enjoyed the thing. Spencer took a hack and rode off to\nAlthorp to make his appearance at his father's. He was very nervous\nabout the prospect of a meeting with his parents, and having to give\nan account of himself. Fortunately the Earl was deep in some measure\nfor furthering George's happiness, and looked upon his son's {52}\narrival as an auspicious visit. Everything thus passed off smoothly,\nand the youngsters arrived in Cambridge with their tandem \"without\naccidents, but with two or three narrow escapes.\" His journal here has\nfew incidents out of the ordinary line of his daily life; he learns to\nwrestle with success; so as to bring his antagonist to the ground with\na dilapidation of the _res vestiaria_. He practises a good deal at\njumping, and one day, in clearing a hedge, a bramble caught his foot,\nwhich brought him with violence to the ground; by this mishap his eye\nwas ornamented with a scar which gave him some trouble afterwards. He\nalso gets a shying horse to ride: this noble charger had a particular\ndislike to carts: he shied at one in the market-place in Cambridge,\nand soon left his rider on the flags. Spencer mounted again, but found\non his return, after a good ride, that his toe was sprained, and it\nkept him indoors for five or six days. This chapter of accidents was\namply counterbalanced by the agreeable fact that he had just attended\nhis twenty-fifth divinity lecture, and had obtained the certificate\nwhich was to insure him the imposition of his bishop's hands, whenever\nhe might think it convenient to put himself to the trouble of going\nthrough the ceremony. His course is now coming to an end; he becomes a\nfreemason, and rises four degrees in the craft before the end of June.\nA bishop visits Trinity College, and standing in solemn grandeur, with\na staff of college officers dressed out in their insignia encircling\nhim, his lordship delivers a grave expression of his displeasure at\nthe stupidity some twenty students gave evidence of during their\nexamination. Spencer comes out in the first class once more; his\nbrother Frederick is in Cambridge at the time, and as soon as the\nresult is known they take coach for London. Here they spend their time\nagreeably between dining at home and abroad, going to Covent Garden,\nand taking sundry lessons from an Italian dancing-master, until July\n5th, when George returns to Cambridge to take out his degree. We will\nhear himself now giving an account of this great event.\n\n  \"My college labours terminated with the end of the second year's\n  college examination for the classes, which took {53} place on the\n  1st of June, 1819. On the 5th of June the result was declared, when,\n  as I have before said, I was in the first class again, and second to\n  Ollivant. This was rather a disappointment, and gave me some\n  reasonable discontent. For the cause of my not being, as I might\n  have expected, as far above the others as I had been the year\n  before, I saw clearly was a degree of carelessness in my reading,\n  especially of one subject that is, the three first sections of\n  Newton's Principia, which were appointed for the second year's\n  reading, and for which I had not had a taste as for other parts of\n  mathematics. However, the time was now past to recover my place, and\n  soon the importance of this little matter vanished into nothing. I\n  then went to London till the beginning of July, when I returned to\n  Cambridge to receive my degree as Master of Arts from the Duke of\n  Gloucester, who came in person at the commencement of this year to\n  confer the degrees as Chancellor of the University, and to be\n  entertained with the best that the colleges could raise to offer him\n  in the way of feasts and gaieties. My Cambridge cares and troubles\n  were now well-nigh past, and I enjoyed greatly the position I held\n  at this commencement as steward of the ball, and a sort of leader of\n  the gaieties in the presence of the Royal personages, because I was\n  the first in rank of those who received their honorary degrees.\n\n  \"From this time there has been a complete cessation with me of all\n  mathematical studies, and almost of all my classical, to which I\n  have hardly ever again referred. For when I again returned to\n  regular study, I had nothing in my mind but matters of theology. It\n  was at this time, after leaving Cambridge, when I remained\n  principally fixed as an inmate in my father's house, till I was\n  settled in the country as a clergyman, that I was in the character\n  of what is called a young man about town. It was with my dear\n  brother Frederick, who was at home at the time, as I before\n  observed, that I began in earnest to take a share in the enjoyment\n  of London life. I have seen the dangers, the pleasures, and the\n  miseries of that career, though all in a mitigated degree, from the\n  happy circumstance of my not {54} being left alone to find my way\n  through it, as so many are at the age of which I speak. With many,\n  no doubt, the life in London is the time for going to the full depth\n  of all the evil of which Oxford or Cambridge have given the first\n  relish. My father and mother were not like many aged veterans in\n  dissipation--whom in the days when the fashionable world was most\n  accounted of by me, I have looked on with pity--who to the last of\n  their strength keep up what they can of youth, in pursuing still the\n  round of the gay parties of one rising generation after another.\n  They (my parents) hardly ever went into society away from home. They\n  kept a grand establishment, when in London, at Spencer House, as\n  well as at Althorp in the winter, when the first society, whether of\n  the political, or the literary and scientific, were constantly\n  received. It would, therefore, have been unreasonable in me to be\n  fond of going out for the sake of society, when, perhaps, none was\n  to be met with so interesting as that at home; besides this, my\n  father and mother were fond of being surrounded by their family\n  circle; and if I or my brothers, when staying with them in London,\n  went out from home several times in succession, or many times a\n  week, they would generally express some disappointment or\n  displeasure; and though I used at the time to be sometimes vexed at\n  this kind of restraint, as I was at other restraints on what I might\n  have reckoned the liberty of a young man, I used generally, even\n  then, to see how preferable my condition was. I now most clearly see\n  that the feelings of my parents in this matter were most reasonable,\n  and that it was a great blessing to me that I was situated in such\n  circumstances. They were desirous that we should see the world, and\n  when any amusement was going on, or party was to take place, which\n  she thought really worthy of attention, as not being so frivolous as\n  the general run of such things, my mother zealously assisted in\n  procuring us invitations, and providing us with needful dresses; as,\n  for instance, at this time she gave to my brother Frederick and me\n  very handsome full-dress uniforms (his being, of course, that of a\n  naval officer, mine of the Northamptonshire Yeomanry, in which I\n  then held a commission), {55} that we might appear at balls and\n  parties where full-dress was required, such as foreign ambassadors\n  sometimes gave. These were, she thought, really worth going to on\n  account of extraordinary or remarkable characters who came to them,\n  whether English or foreigners. Thanks to their regular domestic\n  habits, and to the strict authority which my mother still kept over\n  us all, while being at Spencer House, I should have found it almost\n  as difficult as in a well-regulated college to go into any\n  extravagant irregularities, and so I was hardly tempted to do so. My\n  feeling habitually was to try and avoid invitations and engagements\n  from home, far from seeking them eagerly.\"\n\nThe incidents we are able to add from his journal during the interval\nbetween leaving Cambridge and going abroad are very meagre, yet, since\nthey are characteristic of the man's feelings, a few will be inserted.\nFrom the journal: \"Tuesday, July 20. We got up and went to a dreadful\nformal breakfast at 10\u00bd. At one we were dressed, and the company began\nto arrive for a public breakfast, to be given to-day to the people of\nthe county in honour of the marriage of Lord Temple. The collation was\nin the greenhouse, and lasted off and on till about 6!\" He goes\nthrough the particulars of the entertainment, the quadrilles and\ncountry dances, the partners' perfections, &c., &c.; but when Lady\nBuckingham asked himself and his brother to stay a little while\nlonger, much as they liked it, they would not do so, because their\nmother desired them to be home at a certain time. One must admire his\nobedience even at the expense of his enjoyment, when he might\ncalculate upon the implicit consent of his mother to their acceding to\nsuch a request, and from such a quarter. Another thing we gather from\nthis is, that F. Ignatius, even when a youth, could never bear what\nwas formal or ultra-refined; he always liked natural ease and\nunaffected simplicity. \"We find him turn away from a blue-stocking,\nand steal three days' thoughts from his \"flame\" to bestow them on one\nmore unaffected and simple. The next incident he chooses to record is,\nthat the clergyman of the church he used to attend had gone to spend\nhis honeymoon, and that a preacher whom he did not admire took his\npulpit {56} in his absence. There are some partings of friends, and a\ngreat variety of amusements, to fill up the pages for a month or so.\nFather Ignatius used to tell a very remarkable anecdote about this\nperiod of his life; he used it to illustrate the sacrifices that\npeople can willingly make for the law of fashion, and how reluctant\nthey are to make even the smallest for the love of God. There was a\ngreat ball to be given somewhere in London; it was to be a most\nsplendid affair, full in all particulars of dress and etiquette, and\none of those that the Countess Spencer thought really worth going to.\nA celebrated _coiffeur_ was imported direct from Paris, and he had a\npeculiar style of hair-dressing that none of that craft in London\ncould hope to imitate with success. All the _belles_, marchionesses of\nhigh degree, who intended figuring at the ball, hired the French\n_coiffeur_. He accepted all the engagements, but found they were so\nmany that it would take twenty-four hours' hard work, without a\nmoment's repose, to satisfy all. He had to begin at three o'clock in\nthe afternoon of the day preceding the ball, and Father Ignatius knew\none lady who was high upon his list. She had her hair dressed about\nfour, and, lest it might be disarranged, slept in her arm-chair, with\nher neck in stocks, for the night. This lady, be it remembered, was no\nfoolish young _belle_, but a matron who might have conveniently\nintroduced her granddaughter to the circle she attended. \"These\npeople,\" he used to say, \"laugh at the folly of St. Peter of Alcantara\nand other mortified saints; and we, who aspire to be saints, will\nundergo with difficulty what worldlings cheerfully endure for vanity\nand folly.\" He often laughed at this, and often laughed others into\nseriousness at his comments on it.\n\n{57}\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTravels On The Continent.\n\nSpencer's thoughts now seemed perpetually fluttering around the\nexpectation of going abroad and seeing wonders. This idea comes out at\nmost unexpected times in the journal, it forms a parenthesis in\neverything he considers bearing seriously upon his welfare. At one\ntime he is disappointed in not having his brother for companion, at\nanother he hopes his parents will not consider this trip travelling\nenough for him; he expects, too, that the parental reins will be\nslackened somewhat; and even it crosses his mind, as a kind of remote\nprobability, that he may perchance be allowed to take a tour by\nhimself. All that was hopeful in these day-dreams was gratified, and\nsome of them to an extent that he was very far from imagining at the\ntime. The great day did arrive at last; the evening before, the\ndifferent branches of the family came to dine at Wimbledon, where the\nEarl was then staying. They were very serious, as they were going \"on\na formidable expedition next morning.\" In the morning, the different\narticles of luggage were sent before them on a van; and, after parting\nwith Lords Althorp, Lyttelton, and their families, the party started\nfor the Continent. It consisted of Lord and Lady Spencer in one\ncarriage, George and the physician in another, and the servants in a\nthird. They had a courier employed, Luigi Cavani, whose office it was\nto ride ahead of the cavalcade, and provide horses and other\nnecessaries at the next stage. They set sail at Dover at six o'clock\non the evening of the 14th September, and, after what was called a\nfavourable passage, arrived in Calais the next morning at half-past\nseven o'clock. One can leave London Bridge nowadays at the time they\nleft Dover Harbour, and be in Paris before they landed. {58} He says\nin the autobiography:\n\n  \"It was on the 15th of September, 1819, that we landed at Calais a\n  day most interesting to me, as I then considered, because the first\n  of my setting foot in a foreign land, but much more, I now must\n  reckon, as being the first on which I trod Catholic ground and\n  entered a Catholic church.\" In the journal he says: \"Dr. Wilson and\n  I walked about a little (in Calais) to the market-place and the\n  church, both which were extraordinary to the greatest degree in my\n  eyes. Sept. 16. We breakfasted at eight, and then started on our\n  journey. 1st went my father and mother in their carriage with 4\n  horses; 2ndly. Dr. Wilson and I in a hired _cal\u00e8che_ with two\n  horses. 3rd. Drewe and the maids, in one with three horses; and\n  last, the _fourgon_, with 3. This was the order of march. I was\n  amused extremely by the difference of this and our English posting.\n  The appearance of the postilions is so new to me, as they crack\n  their long whips over their heads, and the little horses with their\n  rope harness look so mean. Luigi rode post to order horses and\n  manage everything for us, and was always found waiting at every\n  relay.\"\n\nWe quote this in full to give an idea of how noblemen travelled in the\nnot very olden time. If George was much surprised at the church in\nCalais, his wonder knew no bounds when he entered the Cathedral in\nAmiens, and saw \"Mass performed by separate Priests at different\nAltars, and people at each.\" This is a mystery to Protestants who see\nCatholic rites for the first time. They are taught to look upon true\nworship as consisting in the meaning of some well-written sentences,\npronounced with emphatic unction, and responded to with some degree of\nfervour. The service, the fine old psalms, anthems, and collects of\nthe Prayer-Book, issuing forth in melodious accents from the lips of a\nGod-fearing man, is about the highest kind of public worship they can\nhave any notion of. The sermon is first with some, second with others;\nbut whatever place the peculiar excellence of the preacher, and the\neffects of it on a given occasion, may gain in the heart of an\nindividual, it may be taken for granted that the service comes before\nthe sermon in the abstract. But service and sermon must be heard, and\n{59} listened to, and understood. With this idea in their minds, and\naccustomed to see the minister assume a manner and mien calculated to\nproduce prayerful thoughts in his congregation, they are surprised, if\nnot shocked, at the Catholic Mass. They find the Priest hurrying off\nthrough Latin prayers, and producing breathless attention by his own\nsilence; they see him arrayed in unintelligible attire, moving one way\nand another, bowing, genuflecting, standing still, or blessing. They\nscarcely understand a word or gesture, and feel perfectly sure that\nthe old woman who beats her breast and counts her beads by the side of\ntheir staring effrontery is as much in the dark as themselves, if not\nmore. They have seen one evidence more of the humbug of Popery, and\nbless God that Cranmer procured them another ritual. It is not our\nobject to explain Catholic mysteries, but it may be as well to hint\nthat if a stranger to Jerusalem happened to wander to Calvary on the\ngreat day of the Crucifixion, and believed in the divinity of the\nVictim who hung upon the Cross, he would find more devotion in\nkneeling in silence at His feet, than in listening to the most\neloquent declamation he could hear about it. Such is the case with the\nCatholic now as then; he knows the same Victim is offered up still,\nand when the great moment arrives in the middle of the Mass, he would\nhave everything to be hushed and silent, except the little bell that\ngives him notice of the awful moment. A reason why there should be\npeople at the different altars lies in this: that there is the same\nSacrifice on each, and one may happen to come into the church at a\ntime when it would be more convenient to hear Mass at some one place\nthan at another. The course of their journey lay through Paris, which\nthey entered from St. Denis by Montmartre. They remained some days\nthere to see Notre Dame, and Paris from its summit, admire the length\nof the Louvre, and visit Fontainebleau. In the course they took by\nAuxerre, Maison Neuve, Dijon, Poligny, and Morey, in order to cross\nMount Jura and to see Mont Blanc on their way to Switzerland, they\nhave to endure many privations. The inns are bad, the cooking is\ninferior, and they have to undergo discomforts while sleeping in {60}\nthe _ch\u00e2lets_ of mountaineers, who were not accustomed to have their\nquiet invaded by such state visits every day. All this they bore\nmanfully until they arrived in Geneva, which they find \"crammed with\nEnglish.\" It strikes George as extraordinary that the Genevese should\nhave their shops in the top story of their houses. He misses the\nmorning service in the Calvinist Church on Sunday; thinks their\nafternoon function very like the Scotch, and sensible. He gives vent\nto his indignation at finding \"a number of blackguard fellows playing\ncards and smoking, publicly, at a cafe, whilst there were only twenty\nat church.\" He is disappointed, therefore, at not finding Geneva the\ndevout, religious place he imagined it to be. He sees a few of the\nsights with Dr. Wilson, and they cross the Lago Maggiore in a boat,\nwhilst the rest of the company go round it by land. They all meet\ntogether in Milan; there they find Lord Lucan. He goes to see the\n_Duomo, Brera,_ theatres; and admires the fine streets, shops, &c.,\nand says the Cathedral is unique. He had the pleasure of meeting the\nfamous Angelo, afterwards Cardinal, Mai at the Ambrosian Library. He\nwent to the Cathedral on Saturday to see _Mass performed_, and was\ndisappointed at not hearing the organ. He had, however, quite enough\nof the rite on Sunday, October 17th:--\n\n  \"At 10\u00bd I went to the _Duomo_, and got into a little gallery over\n  the choir, from whence I saw the ceremonies for the anniversary of\n  the consecration of the church. There was a procession all round the\n  building, with incense burning, and with the Priests singing anthems\n  all the time, and a quantity of _other mummery_, the sight of which\n  might well have driven Calvin to the extremities which he went to in\n  the contrary way. The whole service is always in Latin, so that the\n  people may not reap even the smallest benefit from it.\"\n\nWe shall give another extract from the journal, as it shows the state\nof his mind at the time:--\n\n  \"This day completes the second year of my journal. How quick are\n  they flown! those two years which are supposed to be the happiest in\n  life. I think any time in life is happy if one knows the secret of\n  making {61} it so. I have not learnt it yet, and have had a great\n  deal of unhappiness since going to College. But for what? Nothing\n  but my own imagination and weaknesses, for everything which\n  generally gives happiness I have enjoyed. I have made several\n  friends, been successful enough in my College studies, and have\n  never wanted anything; but I have a morbid constitution which makes\n  me raise phantoms of unhappiness where there is none, and clouds the\n  fairest scenes with a veil of melancholy. This must be conquered,\n  somehow or other, or I shall be a creature useless to others and\n  tormenting to myself.\"\n\nHe feels much distaste at what he terms the dirty style in which an\nItalian gentleman chooses to live, because that gentleman finds\nhimself quite comfortable without such furniture and appliances as are\ndeemed essential in England. He happened to be a man fond of books,\nand spent his spare time in libraries and academies.\n\nThe travellers leave Milan after a fortnight's stay, and proceed\nthrough Placentia, Parma, Modena, and Bologna. Here the celebrated\nCardinal Mezzofanti called upon them, and Spencer remarks that the\nonly thing worth seeing, as far as he has gone, in Italy, are churches\nand their ornaments. He singled out one of those latter for special\nremark, as we find by the following passage:--\n\n  \"Oct. 30. At nine o'clock Dr. Wilson's friend, a lawyer, took him\n  and me up to a church on the mountain, near the town, famous for a\n  picture--done, as they say, by St. Luke! There is a fine arcade to\n  it for 2\u00bd miles, and pilgrims go by this to adore this nonsense!\"\n\nTheir next stay is at Florence, where he had the ill-luck of not\nproviding against mosquitoes, who took the liberty of biting him\nheartily the first night he slept there. News reaches him next day\nthat a great friend of his at Cambridge, a Mr. Gambler, has obtained a\nfellowship in Trinity. This makes him merry all the evening. They halt\nagain for some rest at Perugia. All he says about this classic town\nis, \"Before breakfast the Doctor and I saw a gallery of frightful old\npictures, and other _maraviglia_ of {62} Perugia, and then set off,\nstill through mountainous country, to Spoleto. They start for Rome\nnext day, they see it fifteen miles off, but he does not seem to have\nhad a single spark of enthusiasm as he looks upon the great mistress\nof the world for the first time. Of course Rome, as the capital of\nChristendom, was not likely to stir up his best feelings, when we\nremember the then frame of his religious mind. At all events, cold and\nlistless as it might be, he entered Rome on Wednesday, the 10th\nNovember, 1819. The first thing he and his father with the Doctor did\non arriving, was to pay a visit to St. Peter's. \"We saw it inside and\nout. It was most glorious: but its size from some reason or other\ndisappoints me, as it does all strangers; it improves upon\nacquaintance, I fancy.\" How like Byron's opinion. \"Childe Harold:\"\nCanto iv. 65:--\n\n    \"Enter: its grandeur overwhelms thee not;\n    And why? it is not lessened: but thy mind,\n    Expanded by the Genius of the spot,\n    Has grown colossal, and can only find\n    A fit abode wherein appear enshrined\n    Thy hopes of immortality; and thou\n    Shalt one day, if found worthy, so defined,\n    See thy God face to face, as thou dost now\n  His Holy of Holies, nor be blasted by His brow.\"\n\nHe visits next the Capitoline, the ancient Forum, and the Coliseum; he\nremarks: \"this last is quite stupendous, and quite answers my\nexpectations. I could not yet understand the plan of the staircases\nand seats. _The Pope has stuck it all over with little chapels_.\" He\nmeets Tom Moore, and spends a day with him and other merry companions\nin Tivoli.\n\nHe stayed in Rome this time only a week: for on the 17th November they\nall started for Naples. In passing through Terracina he meets what\nCatholics will recognize as a _svegliarino_. It is customary, when a\nmission is being given in some parts of Italy, for one of the\nmissioners to go out, accompanied by a bell, and such companions, lay\nand clerical, as wish to take part in the ceremony, go {63} around the\nvillage, and preach from a table in three or four different places.\nThis has a remarkable effect--the listless loungers who prefer basking\nin the sun, or swallowing maccaroni, to going to the church for the\nsermons, are thus roused so far as to put their heads out of the\nwindow or door and ask what's the matter. By-and-bye the crowd\nthickens, one looks inquisitively at the other, and when their\ncuriosity has been worked upon sufficiently, the missioner gets up,\nand in a fiery zealous discourse puts the fear of God into his\nhearers. Thousands are brought to repentance by these means every\nyear. The sermon, of course, is not a polished oration, with points of\nrhetoric to suit the laws of criticism. It is rather broken and\ninflamed, short and telling sentences, and delivered with all that\nunction and impetuosity for which Italians are remarkable; and which\nis anything but intelligible to an Englishman, who is accustomed to\nthe measured discourses of a London Churchman. Accordingly we find\nthis proceeding thus dotted down in the journal:--\"At Terracina we\nwere very much _amused_ by a procession of penitents with the Bishop\nof Terracina, and an extravagant sermon preached by a priest from a\ntable before the inn.\" At that time, how little could he foresee that\nhe should afterwards give such a mission in Italy himself, and\nfurther, to the utmost of his power, with equal zeal, though with more\nsedateness, even such an _extravaganza_, as it now appeared to him.\nHis style of preaching, however, as we shall hereafter see, was never\nsuch as to qualify him for an emphatic _svegliarino_.\n\nOn November 21 they arrive in Naples, not very pleasantly, as Lady\nSpencer had suffered from the roughness of the road, and was obliged\nto rest a night in Capua, and George was suffering from a soreness in\nhis eye. These inconveniences were forgotten for a moment on meeting\nLord George Quin and his lady, daughter to Lord Spencer. Young Spencer\nwas delighted with the children, though they could only speak French\nor Italian. The soreness of his eye keeps him at home next day, which\nhe enjoys as he has full opportunity of chatting with his sister, whom\nhe {64} seems to have loved very much. He has already alluded to the\nplan his mother formed for his learning to play on the guitar; so we\nshall not quote any of the handsome greetings which the guitar-master\nreceives as he comes to inflict the penance of making his pupil tune\nthe strings of this romantic instrument.\n\n{65}\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nEnglish Life In Naples.\n\n\nThe English who wintered in Naples at the same time with the Spencer\nfamily seemed to have formed, as they generally do, a special caste.\nThey dined together, drove out together, they laughed at the churches,\nand crowded the opera. Their conduct in the latter place did not seem\nto be very edifying to the Neapolitans, who, perhaps, may have thought\nit was an English custom to see a nobleman \"tumbling tipsy one night\ninto Earl Spencer's box,\" to the no small disedification of the whole\nfamily, who were models of sobriety and decorum. The English, by\nforming their own circles in this exclusive manner, and by their\nexternal deportment on various occasions, keep away the higher and\nmore pious grades of society in Catholic cities. The scoffers at\nmonachism and priestly rule are freely admitted within the English\npale, and pay for their hospitality, by catering to the worst\nprejudices of their entertainers, and maligning their neighbours. It\nis very often a repetition of the fable of the sour grapes. For this\nwe have ample testimony in the writings of our contemporaries, which\nwe will strengthen by quoting Father Ignatius's own words a little\nlater. The better Italians sometimes laugh at all this, so that John\nBull is become a by-word among them for exclusiveness and arrogant,\nselfish pride. The blame lies with the English.\n\nThey sometimes found disagreeable incidents from the clashing of\ntastes and customs. On the 8th of December they made the round of the\nchurches, but were sorely piqued that the Neapolitans had too much\nrespect for our Blessed Lady to open the operas and theatres on the\nevening {66} of the Feast of her Immaculate Conception, so they had to\ncontent themselves with whist, and discordant notes from George's\nguitar. Another of these crosses occurred a few days after. George\nmade a lame excursion to Vesuvius, and when groaning from toothache on\nhis return, heard that the father of his bosom friend, Sir Thomas\nFremantle, senior, was dead. To make matters worse, the remains could\nnot be interred in a cemetery, and the _Inglesi_ had to pay the last\nsad rites to their friend in a private garden. On Christmas Day they\nhad service at the Consul's, and then they walked about, and had their\nwhist for the rest of the day. The old year was danced out at a grand\nquadrille party, of which more hereafter; and George tells us very\ncarefully that \"a set of us drank in the new year in _diavolone_.\" How\nremarkable, at every turn, and even by such chance and off-hand\nexpressions, to note the contrast between the George Spencer of that\nday and the subject of divine grace he afterwards became!\n\nIt is a relief to begin the new year 1820 with recording an exception\nmade to the general custom above. George was presented by his father\nto King Ferdinand, and all the _nobili Inglesi_ were invited to join\nin the festivities with which it was customary to usher in the new\nyear. For the rest, the evenings and early part of the mornings are\nspent in a continual whirl of amusement, and it would require a page\nto number up the balls and dances he figured in. He visits also the\nCarthusian and Camaldolese monasteries, but makes no comments. He goes\ntwo or three times to see Vesuvius and the crater and the lava, of\nwhich he gives a very nice description; after this he is allowed, by\nspecial favour, to be at the Royal chase: this puts him in great\nhumour, for, besides the sport it afforded in the way of getting shots\nat such choice game as wild boars, it gave him an opportunity of\nseeing the \"King and all his court, to which nothing can be similar.\"\n\nTowards the end of January, Lord and Lady Spencer determined on\nreturning to England, and offered to leave George to travel through\nthe sights of Southern Italy. He perceives, in a few days, the tokens\nof an inclination in his {67} parents to have his company, and goes\nstraightway to the Honourable Augustus Barrington, who was to be his\nfellow-traveller, and breaks off the plan they had formed. It was only\nafter very pressing instances from his father and mother that he could\nbe persuaded to take up the first plan anew. A portion of his\nautobiography will throw some light upon many things we have only just\ntouched upon, and, therefore, it is better to quote it here, though it\nmight come in more opportunely at the conclusion of his first tour\nabroad.\n\n  \"It is extraordinary, indeed, that I should have remained a whole\n  year on the Continent and never once have seriously taken into\n  consideration the subject of the Catholic religion. Such was the\n  case; and I returned to England, as far as I can remember, without\n  one doubt having crossed my mind whether this was the true religion\n  or not. ...\n\n  And now for a little recollection of the state of my mind during\n  this period of travelling, and its moral effects upon me. During all\n  this time I continued, thank God, wholly convinced that a course of\n  iniquity would not answer; and had I met with any among the young\n  men, my associates, who would have dared to speak out fully in\n  favour of morality, I should, I believe, have been ready to agree\n  with him. But where were such to be found? I had now grown so far\n  more independent of the world, that I had not open assaults to bear\n  continually against for not running with the rest. Many of the young\n  men who maintained their character as free licentious livers, yet\n  professed some degree of moderation and restraint in their\n  indulgences. Some I remember, who professed to keep clear of immoral\n  practices, and no doubt their sincerity in this might be depended\n  on; for where no credit but dishonour would be the reward of steady\n  conduct, there was no temptation to pretend to it falsely. But I\n  remember now but one who dared to allude in my hearing--and that was\n  but once, I think, in private--to the consequence of this sin in\n  another world, and to maintain that it was better to avoid it for\n  fear of punishment hereafter. While, then, I still knew that the way\n  of evil was all wrong, and would have been most happy if the fashion\n  of wickedness could have been at {68} an end; and though I never\n  once, as far as I know, was the first to introduce immodest\n  conversation, and hardly ever heard it introduced by others without\n  inward repugnance, and seldom joined in it; yet I never dared\n  declare how much I hated it, and was still in the most awful and\n  desperate state of wishing I had been like the worst, sooner than be\n  thus subject to the torment of being put to shame before bold\n  profligates. While with my parents, I have before said, I was under\n  good surveillance, and could not think of being detected by them in\n  any evil. How shall I ever be thankful enough for all this? My\n  father's character was such that though many who were often in his\n  company were men whom I have known, when out of it, to delight in\n  most abominable things, I knew of none who ever dared in his sight\n  to do more than covertly allude to them. I was therefore happy in\n  this respect whenever he was near; but when once more left to\n  myself, I again returned to those fearful deliberations of which I\n  have before spoken of, as it were, selling myself, for a time at\n  least, to work wickedness without restraint. It may be well\n  conceived how miserably fallen and corrupt must have been my heart\n  when such purposes were entertained within it; and if, partly\n  through some remains of the holy impressions of my childhood, which\n  still operated on my poor, degraded heart as a kind of habit not yet\n  quite worn off; partly by a sense of the shame and misery I should\n  have before my family and some more whom I knew in the world, who\n  would be themselves most afflicted if they heard of my fall from the\n  good dispositions which they had known in me; partly from a fear of\n  ridicule, even from the profligate, if, after all, I was to fell;\n  partly by the wonderful providence of God, which (I acknowledge)\n  most wisely and most tenderly, yet strongly interposed at times to\n  baffle the madness of my designs when about to be accomplished--if,\n  I say, thus I have been in a degree preserved, God knows I have no\n  credit due to me: God knows that from my heart I take only shame and\n  confusion of face to myself in the remembrance, of my very\n  preservation. Towards the latter part of my stay abroad, I began to\n  be in some way weary of this uncertain state of mind. I {69} was\n  always expecting to take Orders when I should reach the age; and as\n  I knew that then I should not be expected by the world to join in\n  its fashionable vices, and should even suffer in public estimation\n  if I did, my thoughts began to be rather better directed, and I took\n  pains from time to time to overcome some of the evil that was in\n  me.\"\n\n  \"It is wonderful that any good disposition should have lived within\n  me, when every remembrance of religion seems to have been put out of\n  my mind. I now could hardly understand how this should have indeed\n  been the case, if I had not a clear remembrance of certain\n  circumstances which plainly show what was the state of my mind. On\n  the 27th January, 1820, I went up Mount Vesuvius with Dr. Wilson,\n  when, as we were looking into the crater of the volcano, a discharge\n  of red-hot stones took place. I heard them whistle by me as they\n  ascended, and though it was of no use to attempt to get out of the\n  way, I hurried back a few steps by a natural impulse, and\n  immediately saw a lump of red-hot stuff twice the size of one's head\n  fall on the spot where I had been standing just before. We\n  immediately ran down the side of the mountain, and reached a place\n  about a quarter of a mile distant from the mouth of the crater, from\n  whence we could see the upper cone of the mountain. Just then a\n  grand explosion took place, which shook the whole mountain, and a\n  vast quantity of these masses of fiery red stuff was spouted out\n  from the crater, which in its return appeared entirely to cover the\n  whole space over which we had been running five minutes before. Here\n  was an evident escape which, in a mind possessed with any religion\n  at all, could not fail of awakening some serious reflections. Alas!\n  I never thought of the abyss into which I must have fallen had not\n  the good angel, who watched and guided me through so many perils\n  which I thought not of, then preserved me. When I came down in the\n  evening to Naples, the only effect was that I was pleased and vain\n  at having a good adventure to relate, and showing off a spirit of\n  bravery and indifference, when some blamed me for my rashness.\n\n  \"Another circumstance I may record to show how free from all\n  religious fear my mind was. I have before noticed {70} the fits of\n  melancholy which became habitual to me during the last part of my\n  Cambridge life. These came, I think, to their greatest height in the\n  last half of the time I spent at Naples. The interesting excitement\n  of our journey, the company of my sister when I first came to\n  Naples, and the gaieties of which I had my fill there, and which at\n  first had all the charm of novelty, kept me from much thought of any\n  kind, and I enjoyed the balls, the concerts, the grand operas, the\n  enchanting rides of Naples, for a month or six weeks, almost without\n  a cloud. At least I used always to count that my brightest period in\n  the way of enjoyments. Unhappy those who have health and spirits and\n  talents to enable them to please and be pleased long together in\n  such a round of vanity! To my great vexation I found myself again\n  attacked with my old enemy, melancholy; do what I would, I could not\n  drive away those fits of gloom. They were caused partly by the\n  effect on my health of too much good living, and bad hours; but the\n  chief cause was the intrinsic worthlessness of all such pleasure,\n  which will discover itself sooner or later to every one even of its\n  most devoted lovers, and which happily showed itself to me sooner\n  than others. Oh! what frivolous causes did my happiness then seem to\n  depend on! Not dancing to my satisfaction in one quadrille, fancying\n  that some of my favourite partners were tired of my conversation,\n  and that the nonsense of some other silly youth pleased her better,\n  was enough to turn what I flattered myself was about to be a bright\n  and pleasant evening into gloom and sadness. Sometimes, without an\n  assignable cause, my spirits failed, as at others an equally\n  frivolous reason would remove my clouds and make me bright again;\n  but gradually the gloomy moods gained ground, and grew more dark and\n  tedious. I remember comparing notes with another young man, who was\n  like me a victim of the dumps, and finding some satisfaction in the\n  sympathy of a fellow-sufferer, who, with a smile at the absurdity of\n  such feelings, of which he was well sensible while he avowed them,\n  exactly described to me my state of mind when he said that under\n  them he fancied himself the most unfortunate of mankind, and would\n  willingly have {71} changed places with the most despicable and\n  wretched of men, not to say with any animal almost. Poor blind fools\n  that we were! We could not between us suggest the way to be happy\n  which is open to all.\n\n  \"I remember well coming home one night from a ball, which, by my\n  journal, I find to be on the 25th January, when, as I wrote at that\n  time, I was more miserable than ever I was in that way. I went to\n  bed, and heard a noise like a creak in the ceiling of my room. I\n  felt a wish that it would break through and crush me. How I used to\n  wish at that time I had the sort of bold, firm heart which appeared\n  through some of the young manly faces which I used daily to meet--to\n  whom low spirits was a thing unknown. I knew not that I was\n  quarrelling with the most choice of God's mercies to me, without\n  which I should probably have been irrevocably lost. I still, to this\n  day, am used to the visits of my feelings of dejection, but, thank\n  God, I know better how to receive them; and, far from wishing them\n  away, I rather fear their departure, and desire they may never leave\n  me. For if I have within me one bright, heavenly desire, I owe it to\n  these feelings, which first poisoned my pleasure in the world, and\n  drew me at length to seek for it elsewhere, and now I wish never to\n  have peace within my breast while one desire lives there for\n  anything but God.\n\n  \"Yet that thought of wishing even to be crushed, that I might escape\n  from my miserable feelings, shows how far I was at that time from\n  knowing how great a cause for sorrow I really had in the state of my\n  soul--which, if I had known it, must have driven away all imaginary\n  griefs--nor from what quarter I should seek for happiness; and it is\n  a wonder that it took so long a time, and so many repetitions of the\n  same lesson, before I began to correspond with the gracious purpose\n  of my Heavenly Teacher; of Him who was thus correcting me, that I\n  might at length love Him, and love Him willingly. How was it that I\n  could have lived so long without being awakened to one sentiment of\n  religious fear? ...\n\n  \"But now we must return to the Catholic Faith. The main object of\n  this memoir being to trace the steps of my {72} progress towards\n  Catholicity, it would be expected that the period of my residence\n  for a whole year in Catholic countries must be most interesting.\n  Indeed it is wonderful that this year of my life should have been,\n  as it appears to me to have been, quite neutral in its effects. I\n  certainly made no progress towards my present faith. This would not\n  be extraordinary; for how many Protestants by their travels abroad\n  not only make no progress towards Catholicity, but are made its\n  violent enemies. But, undoubtedly, this was the effect produced on\n  me. It seems that at this time I was under the influence of\n  altogether other objects and notions from any connected with\n  religion. What I sought was, first, my own pleasure--next, only\n  general information; what I was chiefly controlled by was human\n  respect. Having no care at all about religion in any form, the\n  question of which was the right form never troubled me, and so the\n  observations which I could not help making on the Catholic religious\n  practices which I saw, were very superficial. It might be\n  interesting to transcribe a few passages from my journal which show\n  what was my mind.\n\n  \"It is remarkable how easily one's mind takes in and rests contented\n  in the belief of false and prejudicial representations of things. I\n  never had had much pains taken with me to set me against the\n  Catholic religion; but though I knew nothing of what it was, I\n  rested in the conviction that it was full of superstition, and, in\n  fact, as good as no religion at all. I never opened my mind all the\n  time I was abroad to the admission of any idea but this; and so I\n  looked on all the Catholic ceremonies which I saw, in this perverted\n  light. I did not fall in the way of anyone to set me right; for I\n  was contented to go on in the stream of the English society with\n  which almost all the towns in Italy were filled, and if any really\n  zealous exemplary Catholics are sometimes mingled with them, they do\n  not find it available or prudent to introduce the mention of\n  religion; while there will be always some who have no objection to\n  seek to please them by encouraging their prejudices, which they do\n  effectually by telling stories--some true, perhaps, some obviously\n  false--of the Priests and Religious. Such a person, {73} who bore\n  the title of Abbate, and therefore must have been professedly a true\n  Catholic, we fell in with at Milan; he assisted my father in his\n  search after curious books. I remember some of his conversations,\n  and I find notice in my journal of his dining with us, and being\n  'very amusing in some stories about the Catholic processions.' The\n  impression on my mind was that the whole system of religion which we\n  saw was mere formality, people being taught to content themselves\n  with fulfilling some external rules, and the clergy making it their\n  business to keep them in the dark. I took little notice of religious\n  matters till we entered Italy. There Milan was the first town we\n  stopped at. On the Sunday after our arrival was the anniversary of\n  the consecration of the church. I saw the ceremonies in the\n  Cathedral, the very place where St. Augustine's heart was moved and\n  his conversion begun, by hearing the strains of holy music, perhaps\n  the same which I then heard. But very different was the effect on\n  me; here are the wise remarks inserted in my journal.\" [Footnote 3]\n\n    [Footnote 3: The passage is given in page 60.]\n\nThe autobiography breaks off abruptly here; but in order to fit the\nremarks to the events which they concern, we have kept one or two\nparagraphs in reserve for another place.\n\n{74}\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nContinuation Of His Travels.\n\nAfter staying about three months in Naples, Spencer sets out with\nBarrington, to travel through Sicily, on the 27th February. The voyage\nwas very smooth until they came to Stromboli, and passed near the cave\nof AEolus, who \"puffed at them accordingly,\" and delayed their landing\nat Messina until March 2. He goes to a ceremony in the cathedral\nthere, and says, \"the priests seem nourishing and very numerous here.\"\nOn his way to Mount Etna he remarks, with a kind of incredulous air,\nthat he went to see the lions of the five chestnuts and the bridge,\nwhich has the same legend attached to its origin as the Devil's Bridge\nin Wales, \"dogs being, in both cases, sent over first to pay the\nforfeit for having built it.\" [Footnote 4]\n\n  [Footnote 4: The most circumstantial legend bearing upon the remark\n  in the text is that about the Bridge of Rimini. Here there was a\n  fearful rapid, without a stone within the distance of 70 miles that\n  was available for building purposes. The bridge-builder of the town\n  may or may not have had the contract; but, at all events, he set\n  down in a confused state of mind as to how it might be done. The\n  devil appeared to him and contracted for the building of the bridge\n  on these easy terms--getting the first that crossed it for his own.\n  The bargain was struck, and in the twinkling of an eye some\n  thousands of infernal imps were scampering down the mountains with a\n  gigantic stone on the shoulder of each. One-third of them were quite\n  sufficient, and the arch-fiend who presided over the building cried\n  out, that no more were wanted: when each devil threw down his load\n  where he happened to be when the master's yell reached his ears.\n  This is said to account for the rocks one sees strewn about near\n  this bridge. The bridge itself is a circle, and was built in one\n  night, and indeed some kind of infernal machine would seem necessary\n  to remove the blocks of stone of which it is composed. Now came the\n  trial. The Christian builder of bridges had no fancy for going to\n  hell, and he was too charitable to send anyone else there. He\n  bethought him of an expedient, and calling out his dog he took a\n  small loaf, and threw it across the bridge with all his might. The\n  dog, of course, ran after it. Whereupon the devil seized him, and in\n  a rage flung him up to somewhere near the moon, and the dog falling\n  from this height upon the bridge, made a hole in its only arch which\n  cannot be filled up to this day. The legend embodies at least a\n  specimen of the Catholic instinct: viz., the anxiety of the devil\n  for our destruction, and how all hell thinks it cheap to turn out\n  for a day's hard labour in the hopes of gaining one single soul.]\n\n{75}\n\nHe chiefly lodges in convents during his rambles through Sicily, the\ninns being so very bad that they drive travellers away. He and his\ncompanion sleep in different convents, and are very well treated; but\nthat scarcely evokes a word of thanks. Poor monks! they have a bad\nname in Protestant nations, and what would be praiseworthy in others\nis only an equivocal quality in them. This is very sad; that men who\nhave bid farewell to the world should, on that very account, be\nconsidered hardly entitled to the bare rights of human beings. Yet go\non, poor souls, in your vocation; your Master before you received the\nsame treatment from the world, and you are not greater than He.\nSpencer meets one or two monks whom he likes pretty well--one was the\nsuperior of the Carmelites at Grirgenti. The rest he calls \"stupid\nfriars,\" \"lazy monks,\" and so forth, according to the tone of mind he\nhappens to be in. In one monastery they shut the door of the room\nallowed them in the face of one of the brethren, because, forsooth,\nthey were \"bored by visits from the monks.\" His journey does not\nalways lie through convents, and he meets others who are not monks;\none of these was a wine-merchant at Marsala, a native of England. It\nseems the pair of tourists were received as handsomely by their\ncountryman as they had been by the \"stupid friars,\" for he is thus\ndescribed in the journal: \"He seems to think himself commissioned to\nkeep up the English character in a strange land, for he is a John Bull\nin caricature in his manner.\" We are also told, a little lower down,\nthat he is very hospitable to all English who pass by that way. They\nhad the novelty of seeing an {76} Italian Good Friday in Marsala; the\nimpression is thus noted:\n\n  \"Friday, Mar. 31.--This was Good Friday. The first, and I hope the\n  last, I shall spend without going to church; not that I should not\n  like to be abroad another year. We were reminded of the day by\n  quantities of groups representing the Passion and Crucifixion,\n  almost as large as life, carried about on men's shoulders, which,\n  absurd as they are, seemed to make an impression on the populace.\n  Men dressed in black accompanied them, with crowns of thorns and\n  crosses. It strikes me as direct idolatry, nearly. The gentry were\n  all in mourning, and the sentinels had their muskets with the\n  muzzles inverted. We all three (Sir H. Willoughby accompanied\n  Barrington and Spencer) took a walk up to the top of Monte di\n  Trapani, the ancient Eryx, where is a town of the same name. We\n  examined what was to be seen there, and came down again to dinner.\n  We dined at 6\u00bd, and had _some meat_, which we have not been able to\n  get for some days, it being Passion Week.\" He spent Easter Sunday in\n  Palermo, and here are his comments on its observance:\n\n  \"Sunday, April 2, Easter-day.--We set off from Ahamo about 7\u00bc. I\n  walked on for an hour, and then rode forward all the way to\n  Monreale, where I stopped an hour till the others came up. We then\n  proceeded together to Palermo. In the villages we passed, the people\n  were all out in their best clothes, which was a very pretty sight.\n  Bells were clattering everywhere, and _feux de joie_ were fired in\n  several villages as we passed, with a row of little tubes loaded\n  with gunpowder, in the market-places, and processions went about of\n  people in fancy dresses with flags and drums. This religion is most\n  extraordinary. It strikes me as impious; but I suppose it takes\n  possession of the common people sooner than a sensible one.\"\n\nHe completed the tour of the island by arriving in Messina, after a\nmost successful attempt to see Mount Etna, on the 14th of April. They\nleft Sicily for Reggio in a boat, and arrived there \"with a good\nducking.\" They both went to visit Scylla, which was guarded as a\ncitadel by armed peasants. The sturdy yeomen refused to admit them,\nwhereupon George, with true English curiosity, climbed up the wall to\n{77} get a peep at the sea, and perhaps inside. Scarcely had he got\nhalf-way up when he was taken prisoner by the sentinel. He was\naccordingly invited to visit the interior of the castle, and had to\ngaze at the bleak walls of its keep for an hour, until Willoughby\nprocured his release from the commandant. They travelled on, and\nGeorge does not seem to be satisfied with the people of Salerno, whom\nhe designates as \"surly and gothic.\" He heard his companions had to\nget an escort of gendarmes, to save them from robbers, all along here.\nReturns to Naples, April 26, delighted at being safe in life and limb;\nhe goes to the old lodgings to a party, and reflects thus on his\nreturn: \"I came home about one, rather sad with seeing the\nrepresentation of what I had enjoyed in the winter--but all the people\nchanged. _Gaiety after all does not pay_.\" This last sentence is not\nunderlined by Spencer himself. It is done to point a moral that may be\nnecessary for a certain class of persons. It is often supposed that\nmonks, and the like people, paint the world blacker than it is in\nreality, and that it is a kind of morose sourness of disposition that\nmakes recluses cry down the enjoyments of those outside convent-walls.\nThis line will perhaps defend F. Ignatius from such an imputation. He\nwrote that after the pure natural enjoyment of scenery had been\ncompared with the excitement of a ball-room; if he thought, in his\nwildness, that gaiety did not pay, no wonder that his opinion was\nconfirmed in the quiet tameness of his after-life. A passage from the\nautobiography, omitted above, comes in here opportunely. He was\nspeaking of the absence of the fear of God from his miserable mind:--\n\n  \"This was almost true concerning the entire period. One occasion I\n  will mention when I was impressed with some shame at my wretched\n  state. While I was making the tour of Sicily, my father and mother\n  left Naples in the _Revolutionnaire_, a fine frigate which had been\n  placed at their disposal, and by which they went to Marseilles, to\n  shorten their land journey homewards. When I returned to Naples I\n  found a long letter from my father, full of kindness and affection\n  for me, in which he explained to me his wishes as to the course of\n  my journey home. This letter I believe I {78} have not kept, but I\n  remember in it a passage nearly as follows: 'As to your conduct, my\n  dear George, I need not tell you how important it is for your future\n  happiness and character that you should keep yourself from all evil;\n  especially considering the sacred profession for which you are\n  intended. But, on this subject, I have no wish concerning you but to\n  hear that you continue to be what you have hitherto been.' 'Ah!'\n  thought I to myself, 'how horrible is the difference between what I\n  am and what this sentence represents me.' But worldly shame was yet\n  more powerful in me than godly shame, and this salutary impression\n  did not produce one good resolution.\"\n\nOn May 3rd, 1820, he came to Rome a second time. His first visit this\ntime also was to St. Peter's, which, he says, \"looked more superb to\nme than ever.\" He attended Cardinal Litta's funeral from curiosity,\nand has no remark about it worth extracting. There are two passages in\nthe journal relating to the ceremonies of Ascension Thursday and\nCorpus Christi, which may be interesting as being indicative of his\nnotions of Catholic ritual:--\n\n  \"Thursday, May 11.--Got up early, and wrote till breakfast. At 9\u00bd\n  went off with Barrington and Ford to St. John of Lateran, where\n  there were great ceremonies to take place for the Ascension Day. The\n  old Pope was there, and was carried round the church blessing, with\n  other mummeries. It was a fine sight when he knelt down and prayed\n  (or was supposed to do so) in the middle of the church, with all the\n  Cardinals behind him. Now this goes for nothing in comparison to\n  what it must have been when the Pope was really considered\n  infallible (_sic_). We then all went out of the church to receive\n  the blessing, from the principal window in the fa\u00e7ade. The Pope came\n  to this in his chair, and performed the spreading of his hands very\n  becomingly. The whole thing was too protracted, perhaps, to be as\n  striking as it should; but I was not as disappointed as I expected\n  to be. The cannonry of St. Angelo and the band certainly gave\n  effect; and the crowd of people on the space before the church was a\n  scene to look at.\"\n\n{79}\n\n  \"Thursday, June 1.--To-day is the feast of Corpus Domini, one of the\n  greatest in the Catholic Church; so at eight we went, having\n  breakfasted [a fact, by the bye, he seldom omits to mention], to St.\n  Peter's, to see the _funzioni_, which are very grand on this\n  occasion. There was a great procession round the _cortile_--first of\n  the religious orders, about 450 monks only; and the boys of St.\n  Michael's Hospital, of the Collegio Romano, &c. Then came curates,\n  and priests temporal and secular, prelates, and monsignores, the\n  ensigns or canopies of the seven basilicas with their chapters, and\n  the priests belonging to them following; next came bishops, then\n  cardinals, and then the Pope, carried on four men's shoulders. He\n  was packed up on the top of the stand with his head out alone. He\n  seemed more dead than alive, and worse than on May 11 at S.\n  Giovanni's. The group of people about him, with their robes and\n  splendid mitres, made a very brilliant sight. The former part of the\n  procession rather showed the decadence of the Church from a great\n  height, than its present glory. After the Pope came the _guardia\n  nobile_, and other soldiers, in splendid uniforms. After the\n  procession there were functions in the Church, and a benediction\n  from the Altar, and which I did not see so well. St. Peter's never\n  showed so well as with a crowd of people in it, when one may\n  estimate its dimensions from the comparison of their littleness.\"\n\nThis is a fair specimen of how a candid, prejudiced Protestant stares\nat Catholic services. He puts down as undisputed that all is absurd\nbefore he goes, and if the Man of Sin himself, the poor Pope, is in\nthe middle of it, it rises to the very highest pitch of abomination. A\nman who could consider holiday attire and exultation impious on Easter\nSunday, and the mourning and fasting and processions of Good Friday\nsomething worse, cannot be very well qualified to comprehend the\nAscension and Corpus Christi in Rome. Catholics _do_ believe in the\nauthority of the Pope and the power of the Keys, and also in the Real\nPresence; will it not follow, as a natural conclusion, that the four\nquarters of the globe should get its spiritual Father's blessing one\nday in the year, and that we should try to find out the best way of\nhonouring our Incarnate God in the Blessed Sacrament? {80} But\nconsistency is not a gift one finds among Protestants, especially when\nthey give their opinion on what they think too absurd to try to\nunderstand. They must admit the Catholic ceremonial is imposing; but\nthen it is only to quarrel with it for being so. They can understand\npageantry and pomp in honouring an earthly monarch; but does it occur\nto them that every best gift is from above, and that the King of kings\nshould be honoured with every circumstance of splendour and oblation a\ncreature can offer?\n\nOne or two of the salient points of his character come out in a few\nextracts we shall produce from the journal now. He says, on leaving\nRome--\"How delightful, and yet how melancholy, was my walk about those\ndear rooms at the Vatican; after next Thursday I believe I am never to\nsee them again, so farewell to them now.\" This illustrates his better\nnature; he was very affectionate, and could love whatever was really\nworth loving; he was not very demonstrative of this feeling, but when\nit came to leave-taking, he had to give vent to it. A peculiar caste\nof his mind was to listen to every proposition, and weigh the reasons\nadduced to support it. If they were unanswerable, he at once admitted\nit, and, if possible, tested it by experience. This was the great key\nto his conversion and subsequent life. In conversation, perhaps, with\na medical friend, he was told that it was far the best way, whilst on\nthe move in travelling, neither to eat nor drink. This was supported\nby reasons drawn from the digestive principles, and so forth. He\nthought it was well proved, and could find no valid objection against\nit, so he determined to try it, and travelled from Rome to Sienna\nwithout tasting a morsel for forty-two hours, and says in his\njournal--\"It is much the best way in travelling.\" In Florence we have\nother tokens of the regret with which he parts from his friends; and\nin the same page a very different feeling on parting with some\nFranciscans. These \"entertained him uncommonly well for mendicants,\"\nand showed him all their treasures of art and piety with the greatest\nkindness; yet it did not prevent him calling them \"lazy old monks\"\nwhen they let him away at three o'clock in the morning.\n\n{81}\n\nHe walks about the country a good deal, and finds it pleasant, \"as the\ncommon people here are much more conversable than ours.\" This striking\ndifference between a Catholic and a Protestant peasantry is patent to\nthe most superficial observer. The poor Irish, French, or Italian\nlabourer, who can neither read nor write, is quite at his ease with\nthe merchant or the noble. He will have his joke and his laugh, very\noften at the expense of his superior, and never outstep the bounds of\ndue respect. He is light-hearted and gay everywhere, and the exact\nopposite of the English navvy.\n\nThe real cause of the difference is the want of religion in the poor\nBriton. The Catholic religion inculcates humility on the great. It\nbrings the Lord of the Manor and his servant to the same confessional\nand the same altar: they may be as far asunder as pole from pole\noutside the church, but inside it they are both on a level. The works\nof mercy are insisted on, and high-born ladies are most frequently the\nministering angels of the poor man's sick-bed, and the instructors of\nhis children, and nurses of his orphans. \"Blessed are the poor\" is not\na dead letter in Catholic theology, and until it be, and that poverty\nbecomes felony, the same ease and happiness will pervade the peasantry\nof Catholic countries, which now gives them such grace and beauty. The\ndoctrine of self-worship and money-adoration can never fuse races;\nthere is a wide wide chasm between the upper and the lower orders in\nProtestant countries, which no amount of mechanics' lectures, and\npatronizing condescension, can bridge over, as long as the germs of\nthe worldly system remain rooted in the education and manners of the\npeople. Of course, these remarks do not apply to the general state of\nthings, for there is oppression in Catholic countries as well as\nelsewhere; they simply concern the working of a Christian principle,\nif it get fair play.\n\nHe visits Pisa, Lucca, Carrara, Sestri, and stops at Genoa. A bit of\nthe Protestant breaks out here. \"We went to see that foolish _sacro\ncatino_ at the Cathedral, which I have no doubt is glass instead of\nemerald.\" He says {82} again: \"It makes me rather onked to be alone\nnow, though sometimes I wish to be so. But the only solitude that is\ndisagreeable is among numbers in a large town. The solitude of the\nApennines, and such places as last night's habitation, is a pleasure\nto me.\" Now one _vetturino_ hands him over \"to another more blackguard\nthan himself\" on his way to Bologna, where he has a very satisfactory\nmeeting with Mezzofanti once more. Off he starts through Ferrara,\nRovigo, and Padua, for Venice; he visits the Piazza S. Marco, and is\ntold complacently by a French doctor, who proved to be a terrible bore\nby-and-by, that it is nothing to the Palais Royal. He visits Mantua on\na pilgrimage to Virgil's birthplace, and says of a sight he saw by\naccident: \"I was amused by a figure of S. Zeno, just like a smiling\nOtaheitan idol of the largest dimensions, which is the great protector\nof the town.\" It is not hard to tell which way his devotion lay.\nSpencer and a Mr. Lefevre, who was now his travelling companion, go to\na _villegiatura_ here, and are splendidly entertained for a couple of\ndays. They travel on for Germany through the Tyrol; from Verona to\nRiva they chiefly travel by the Lago di Garda, and the only incidents\nhe chooses to record, until they come to \"dem goldenen Adler\" (the\ngolden Eagle) at Brixen, are the cicerone's opinions of Catullus, whom\nthat well-informed individual thought to have been a brigand chief.\nThey had to bring the bill of fare before the police in Riva, but were\nnot successful in getting a single charge diminished; he enjoyed a\ngood deal of idyllic life along here, and did not seem to think much\n_pro_ or _con_ of the little town of Trent, though one should fancy he\nwould say something, if it were only a few angry words about the Great\nCouncil.\n\nHe considers the Germans more honest than the Italians, and was\ninclined to admire their solidity and steadiness; but his driver fell\nasleep on their way to Innspruck, and let the reins fall on the\nhorse's neck when descending a steep, and he veers round to the\nopinion that if they were a little livelier, it would be much better.\nOn his way through Bavaria to Munich he thinks the country very like\nEngland--well cultivated and flourishing. \"The costumes extraordinary,\n{83} but not so pretty as the Tyrolese. The people themselves, both\nmen and women, are the ugliest race I ever saw.\" They had letters of\nintroduction to Prince Loewenstein and Count Peppenheim, two\naides-de-camp of the King of Bavaria; they were invited to a royal\n_chasse_. Perhaps it is as well to give the whole account from the\nJournal, as it conveys an idea of German sports too fine to be\noverlooked.\n\n  \"Monday, Aug. 21.--At 4\u00bd this morning we started for the _chasse_ in\nthe mountains about three leagues off. At the end of two leagues we\n  were stopped and obliged to walk, as the road became too narrow for\n  the King to pass us, in case we had been in the way when he came up.\nSo we walked the rest till we came to the toils where Loewenstein\n  received us. The _chasse_ was in a deep valley, shut in on the sides\nby precipitous rocks: into this they had tracked about 80 or 90 head\n  of deer, and shut them in by toils at both ends; then little green\n  enclosures were made for the guns to be posted in. We had one of\n  these guns given us in conjunction with other spectators, the\n  shooter who was to have been there not having arrived. Before the\n  line was a broad course of a torrent, and beyond that was a wood\n  into which they had forced the game, and from which they drove it\n  again with dogs, and even into the way of the guns. This went on for\n  4 or 5 hours, during which they cannonaded very quick, but with\n  little effect, for I never saw a much greater proportion of misses.\n  The result was about 70 head of deer. We were much surprised in the\n  middle of the time at seeing Devon walk up. He came from Salzburg\n  for the purpose of this _chasse_, and stayed with us through it.\n  After it we were standing near the place where the King was counting\n  out the game, when Peppenheim presented us to him, and he asked us\n  to dine at Berchtesgaden. As our carriage was so far off, we were\n  obliged to be carried as we could, and I was taken in by\n  Loewenstein, who is, by the bye, about the fattest man in Bavaria.\n  We dressed directly, both ourselves and Devon, who had nothing here;\n  and even so we were late for dinner. However, the King was so\n  gracious and good-humoured that it all went off capitally. It was an\n  interesting dinner for the faces that {84} we saw. Eugene\n  Beauharnais, Prince Schwartzenberg, Reichenbach, engineer, Mar\u00e9ehal\n  Wrede, and about 16 more, were there. We stayed till about 6, and\n  then came home.\n\n  \"Tuesday, Aug. 22.--To-day we again followed the motions of the\n  Court. Devon came over with horses from Hallein, where he had\n  returned last night; and so we went about comfortably.\n  Schwartzenberg took us to a famous machine of Mr. Reichenbach's,\n  without the King. This machine is employed to raise the salt water,\n  which is brought from the mines here, and convey it over the\n  mountains to Reichenhall, about 3 leagues distant, where is a\n  manufactory for extracting the salt. The reason of this is, that\n  there is not enough wood for consumption here. It is a vast\n  forcing-pump, which is worked by fresh water from a height of 400\n  feet, and raises the salt water 1,200. This water is in the\n  proportion of 53 to 44 heavier than fresh water. I did not\n  understand the whole explanation, being in German, but I admired the\n  machine, which works in a room so quietly as actually not to be\n  perceptible from the noise, except a little splashing. After this we\n  came to a miserable dinner at the inn, which was too full to attend\n  to us. At 1\u00bd, about, we started again to a romantic lake, K\u00f6nig See,\n  where another scene of this royal drama was to be enacted. The King\n  came, with his whole party, an hour after us, and we were invited by\n  Loewenstein into his royal boat, which was rowed by 11 men and one\n  pretty damsel. \"We went all down the lake, with several other boats\n  full following, one of which had 4 small cannons, which they\n  constantly discharged for the echo. The thing we came though for\n  was, two artificial cascades from the top of the mountains, one in\n  the course of a small torrent, which had been stopped above and made\n  into a lake, full of large pieces of timber, which were precipitated\n  all at once with surprising effect. The other was a dry cascade,\n  down which two heaps of timber were discharged, like the launching\n  of a ship from an inclined plane, the smallest of which, as I could\n  judge from below, was twice the height of a man, and four times the\n  length at least. The finest part of this was the prodigious {85}\n  splashing at the bottom, which resembled, in appearance and sound, a\n  line of cannonading. By way of sport, this is the most superb\n  child-amusement one could conceive. We rowed back in the same boat,\n  and disembarked about sunset. We proceeded directly to a salt-mine,\n  without the King, where was to be an illumination. We all were\n  decked out in miners' habits, and embarked, in little carts drawn by\n  two men, down a shaft 1,800 feet long, lighted by candles all the\n  way, ourselves having one each, like white penitents. At the end of\n  this we were surprised by entering a large chamber, perhaps 200\n  yards round, with a gallery at the top; the whole was surrounded by\n  festoons of lamps, and below it was a rich star of fire, which\n  showed the depth of the mine off to great advantage. A band of music\n  was playing, and mines were exploded at the bottom with really\n  tremendous noise. Altogether, this scene pleased me more than any I\n  have seen here, or perhaps anywhere.\n\n  \"Wednesday, August 23.--At 5 we started in the carriage, with\n  Devon's servant, for the second _chasse_ (of chamois); we found\n  ourselves among a long train of other carriages also going there. We\n  passed through the _chasse_ of Monday, and went about 3 miles\n  further on foot. We found that of 60 chamois which had been\n  collected in the toils, 40 had escaped; so the _chasse_ was but of\n  about an hour's duration before they were all killed. The stands of\n  shooters were confined, so we were made to climb up a little\n  mountain, or rather a large rock, from which we had an excellent\n  view of everything. The scenery was superb and wild. Before, behind,\n  and everywhere, were immense mountains of solid and shagged rock,\n  9,000 feet high above the sea, with nothing like vegetation but\n  patches of stunted firs, which did not, even so, reach halfway up\n  their height, and looked like moss. It made a contrast with the\n  tameness of the _chasse_, where about 16 chamois were driven about\n  and killed out of little boxes, in an enclosure of a few acres. It\n  was not so fine in that respect as the deer _chasse_. The King asked\n  us again to dinner, near a small house in the valley of the deer\n  _chasse_ (Wimbach). The table was put on a platform under a\n  sycamore-tree in a glorious situation. {86} I was unexpectedly\n  called upon to sit next to Prince Schwartzenberg, and always called\n  _milord_, which probably was the original mistake. The whole\n  business went off very satisfactorily. The King's manners are most\n  affable, and made everything comfortable about him.\"\n\nAfter this grand performance, our tourists took a ride through a\nsalt-mine, astride of a plank, with a man before and behind running as\nfast as could be; they come finally to daylight, and shortly\nafterwards to Salzburg. They travelled the country to Lintz, and\nsailed down the Danube to Vienna, where they found the police\n\"ridiculously strict about passports.\" A few days after their arrival\nin Vienna they took a drive through the _Prater_, and \"during the\ndrive we conversed on the subject of family calamities, and on one's\nmeans of bearing them. Soon after we came home, Lord Stewart's\n_attach\u00e9_, Mr. Aston, called with a letter for me from Mr. Allen,\nwhich told me of the horrible news of my brother Bob's death in\nAmerica, killed in an affray with his first lieutenant! How strangely\nfulfilled were our yesterday's prognostics. This is a sort of thing\nthat is too great and deep an accident to feel in the common way. I\nhardly understand it at this distance: I shall though before long. I\nwent with Lefevre after dinner to Lord Stewart's, where I found a\nGerman courier was to start soon for England. I shall accompany him.\"\nThis is from the Journal; we shall now give an extract from the\nAutobiography:--\n\n  \"My first tour abroad was suddenly terminated at Vienna by a letter\n  which I received to recall me home, from the Rev. J. Allen, now\n  Bishop of Ely. This letter gave me notice of the supposed death of\n  my brother Robert, in South America, who, it was reported, had been\n  killed in an affray with his first lieutenant. This most strange\n  story, for which there was not the slightest foundation in truth,\n  was conveyed to our family in England in such a way as gained it\n  entire belief, and all had been for two or three weeks in deep\n  mourning and under the greatest affliction, when the falsehood of\n  the report was discovered. This affliction was considered a\n  sufficient cause for gathering together all the {87} members of the\n  family who were at liberty to come home; and so I was desired to\n  return immediately. I bought a carriage at Vienna, and, travelled\n  for some nights and days without ceasing, during which I thought to\n  try an experiment on how little nourishment I could subsist; and\n  from a sort of curiosity to amuse myself, for I can hardly attribute\n  it to a better motive, I accomplished a fast which it would appear a\n  dreadful hardship to be reduced to by necessity, and a very small\n  approach to which, in these times, would be by most persons looked\n  on as a most unreasonable austerity. I passed those successive\n  intervals of 38, 50, and 53 hours, as I find in my journal, without\n  touching the least particle of food to eat or drink; and what I took\n  between the intervals was only a little tea and bread and butter.\n  This matter is not worth noticing, except to show that, as I went\n  through this, while travelling, which is rather an exhausting\n  employment, without the least detriment to my health, and without a\n  feeling of hunger almost all the time, it is a sad delusion for\n  people in good health to fancy they need so many indulgences and\n  relaxations to go through the fasts appointed by the Church.\n\n  \"It was when I got to Calais that I went to the English news-room to\n  see further accounts in the newspapers of my brother's death, the\n  report of which, though at first I had some suspicions it might be\n  false, I afterwards had made up my mind entirely to believe. My joy\n  was exceeding great at finding an explicit contradiction to it in\n  one of the latest papers. I remember going on my knees to thank God,\n  in the news-room, when I found myself alone, which I believe was the\n  first occasion for a long, long time I had made a prayer of any\n  sort, or gone on my knees, except in church-service time. This I\n  never gave up entirely, and during this time I never gave up\n  receiving the Sacrament explicitly, though I do not find that I\n  received it all the time I was abroad. I did not intend to commit\n  acts of hypocrisy, but must have gone on from custom and a certain\n  sense of propriety, without considering that I was mocking God.\"\n\n{88}\n\nOn his arrival at Althorp he found the family all in the most joyous\nmood possible. A little passage of his Journal gives an idea of the\ncharacter of the noble family in their relations with the tenantry:--\n\n  \"Friday, Sept. 22. Bread and meat given to the poor of Brington,\n  Brampton, and Harleston, as a rejoicing for Bob's recovery. Three\n  oxen were killed, and the effect seemed very good. They gave some\n  lively cheers as they departed.\"\n\nHe goes to London, and hears Henry Brougham's speech on Queen\nCaroline's trial; and immediately after, he starts for Switzerland to\nsee his sister, Lady Georgiana Quin. We shall relate this in his own\nwords in the Autobiography:--\n\n  \"I became so fond of the business of travelling that, as I was\n  returning homewards, my mind was occupied constantly with plans for\n  further excursions. I intended to have gone with Lefevre from Vienna\n  to Dresden and Berlin on our way home, but I could not think of\n  regarding this as my last journey. I was longing to see Greece. I\n  had had thoughts of Spain, Russia, Egypt, and various indeed have\n  been the fancies and inclinations which have passed through my mind.\n  The regular travelling mania had its turn about this time, and I\n  wonder not, by my feelings then, at so many of our countrymen, whom\n  I have known myself, who have left England for a short excursion,\n  and not having professional engagements, nor wise parents and\n  relations, as I had, to control them, have become regular wanderers,\n  and have spent, in travelling about, the years on the good\n  employment of which, at home, depended mainly their success in\n  after-life. It may be judged how truly I was possessed with this\n  spirit of wandering, at the time of which I speak, by my remaining\n  but one fortnight at Althorp with my family before I was again on\n  wing. My sister, Lady Georgiana Quin--whose society had made to me\n  one of the chief charms of the winter at Naples, and whose being at\n  Naples with Lord George, her husband, and her children, had been the\n  main inducement for my father and mother to make an undertaking, at\n  their age, and with their habits, so extraordinary as this long\n  journey--had left Naples during my tour in Sicily, and was settled\n  at a country-house called the Ch\u00e2teau de Bethusy, near Lausanne. I\n  proposed going to {89} see her, and to give her the full account of\n  all that concerned the strange report about my brother Robert. I\n  wonder at my having had my parents' consent to make another\n  departure so soon, and with apparently so insufficient an object. I\n  suppose they thought it reasonable to give me this liberty, by way\n  of compensation for the sudden cutting-off of my first grand tour.\n  This time I passed by Dieppe to Paris, thence by Lyons to Bethusy,\n  where, having stayed a fortnight--the pleasantest, and, alas! almost\n  the last days I had in my sister's company--I returned by Nancy to\n  Paris, and thence through Calais to England. I reached Althorp on\n  the 19th of November, 1820. And so the fancy for travelling soon\n  died away, as my prospects for fresh journeys met with no\n  encouragement at home; and here is an end of all my travellings for\n  mere travelling's sake. When next I left England, it was, thank God,\n  with thoughts and views far other than before.\"\n\nAn extract from the Journal of this time may not be without\ninterest:--\n\n  \"October 17, 1820.--With this day's journal ends the third year that\n  I have kept it. This year has been the most interesting and varied I\n  have ever passed, and probably ever shall, for my travelling will\n  not last long. I certainly have reaped advantages in some respects,\n  and great ones. I have had experience in the world, and have learnt\n  to shift for myself better than I could have done by any other\n  means. I have, I hope, increased the confidence of my family in me;\n  and, above all, I have nearly expelled that melancholy disposition I\n  gained at college; but most active I feel I must be to prevent its\n  return when I again remain quiet in England. I have still a damper\n  to my prospects that occasionally overwhelms me, but I must, I\n  trust, get over that too; as I have now persuaded myself on sober\n  reflection, though I am sadly slow in beginning to act on the\n  principle, that one quality alone is within all our reach, and that\n  one object alone is worth trying for. God grant this thought may\n  often occur to me. I have this year enjoyed the pleasures and\n  diversions most enlivening, and which I always most desired; but\n  even they are insufficient to make {90} one happy alone, though\n  nearer to it than any others. Let us then look to what certainly\n  can.\"\n\nThis train of thought seemed to have occupied his mind between his\nleaving Paris, and returning to it again during the last visit to his\nsister. There is one paragraph in the Autobiography which refers to\nboth; here it is, and it is the last morsel of that interesting\ndocument that remains unwritten in his life:--\n\n  \"The most remarkable impression of religion which I remember in all\n  this period, was in a place where it might have been least expected.\n  No other than the Italian Opera at Paris. I passed through that\n  city, as I have said before, in my last journey to Lausanne, and on\n  my return a month later. Both times I went to see the opera of _Don\n  Giovanni_, which was the piece then in course of representation. I\n  conceived that after this journey I should give up all thoughts of\n  worldly vices. I was likely to be fixed at home till the time of my\n  ordination, and should assume something of the character of a\n  candidate for holy orders. In short, I felt as if it was almost my\n  last occasion, and I was entertaining, alas! some wicked devices in\n  my mind when I went to this most dangerous and fascinating opera,\n  which is in itself, by the subjects it represents, one of the most\n  calculated to beguile a weak soul to its destruction. But the last\n  scene of it represents Don Giovanni, the hero of the piece, seized\n  in the midst of his licentious career by a troop of devils, and\n  hurried down to hell. As I saw this scene, I was terrified at my own\n  state. I knew that God, who knew what was within me, must look on me\n  as one in the same class with such as Don Giovanni, and for once\n  this holy fear of God's judgment saved me: and this holy warning I\n  was to find in an opera-house at Paris.\"\n\n{91}\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nAn Interval Of Rest And Preparation For Orders.\n\nThis chapter begins with his twenty-first birthday. He comes before\nus, a fine young man nearly six feet high, graceful and handsome, of\nindependent mien, winning manners, and all the other attributes of\ngentlemanly perfection that are calculated to make him an object of\nattraction. His journal, even then, tends to show his worst side; we\nfind self-accusations in every page, and the round of enjoyments\nbroken in upon by serious correctives. For the great problem which\nmoralists solve so easily, and those whom the solution concerns keep\naway from consideration, we will find in his life a golden key. It is\ntoo soon yet to speak about the special workings of Divine Grace in\nhis soul; but, even so far off, we can find glimmerings of the\nglorious sun of his after-life. Let us look into the world, we find\nthousands that really enjoy and luxuriate in gay parties, balls,\npastimes, and pleasures, without a pang of remorse, and others with\nsensibilities as keen, if not keener, for the relish of these\nluxuries, plunging into them with a kind of intoxicating gusto, and\ncoming out fagged and disgusted, when they were perhaps thought the\nvery soul and life of the company. We are told of a patient dying of\nmelancholy who called in a doctor to prescribe for him; the\nprescription of the medical man was, that he should go and hear Mr.\nN., a celebrated comic actor, for a number of nights successively, and\nthe remedy was guaranteed to prove infallible, for no one could listen\nto him and not laugh himself to hysterics. \"Ah, my dear friend,\"\nanswered the patient, \"I am the veritable Mr. N. myself.\" It is\nsometimes argued that small minds of a feminine caste, composed of the\ningredients {92} which the \"Spectator\" wittily discovers in the\ndissection of a beau's head, can be content with frivolities, whilst a\ngrand intellect is only made indignant by them. We could quote\nexamples to bear us out in a conclusion the direct contrary of this.\nHow, then, can we solve the problem? Why can some live and die in a\nwhirl of dissipation with apparent relish, whilst others get clogged\nby a few balls, and fling worldly enjoyment to the winds on account of\nthe very nausea it creates? It may be considered as \"going into the\nsacristy\" to say that those whom God chooses for great things, He\nweans from pleasure by a salutary dissatisfaction? so the point will\nnot be insisted on. The only ordinary way in which it can be accounted\nfor is, that the lovers of pleasure deafen the voice of conscience,\nwhereas the others give this good monitor room to speak, and\noccasionally lend an ear. Whichever way we please to look upon F.\nIgnatius at this period of his life, we shall find ample material for\ntheorizing on the unreality of worldly joys. He concludes the first\nvolume of his Journal with the following considerations:--\n\n  \"Dec. 31.--I have ended this year, as the last, with a very pleasant\n  evening, as far as noise and fun can make it. But a more reasonable\n  way would be (as I am now in my room, with my watch in my hand,\n  nearly on the stroke of twelve) to end it in making good resolutions\n  for the year to come,--which may, I hope, pass as prosperously, and\n  more usefully, than the last. The new year is now commenced, and I\n  recommend myself to the protection and guidance of Almighty\n  Providence to bring me safely and well to the end of it. I now bid\n  farewell to this journal-book, which is but a record of my follies,\n  and absurdities, and weaknesses, to myself, who know the motive of\n  the actions which are here commemorated, and of many more which I\n  have done well to omit. There is no fear of my forgetting them, nor\n  do I wish it. The less other men know about my inward thoughts, the\n  better for me in their estimation.\"\n\nMany of the readers of this book will feel disposed to disagree with\nthe last sentence. We have had his interior {93} before us, as clearly\nperhaps as any other man's we can possibly call to mind, and yet there\nis scarcely one that must not admire and love him as well, for the\nsacrifice he made for their benefit in exposing his interior, as for\nthe beautiful sight that very disclosure gives them of his noble\nheart. It is not very easy to write an interesting chapter about this\nportion of his life; the Autobiography is run out, and the Journal\ngives no incident of any great importance till we come to the\nsubject-matter of the next volume. Let us string together a few of the\nleading events, especially such as may be calculated to give us some\nidea of his mind and occupations.\n\nHe begins the volume by writing down that he got up rather earlier\nthan usual, played at battledore and shuttle-cock with Lady Georgiana\nBingham, and kept up to 2,120 hits. He is disappointed then in a day's\nsport, and gives this account of his evening: \"I was rather bilious\nand nervous to-night, and consequently would have preferred being out\nof the way, but from a wrong principle, I fear, viz., because I\nthought I should seem rather dull and ill-humoured. But what if I did,\nto the gay people that do not, nor wish to, know? And what if I did,\nto those who do know how far it is real, my ill-humour?\" It was\ncustomary, as he told us some chapters back, for the Spencer family to\nspend Christmas at Althorp, and collect many of their immediate\nrelatives about them during the time. The place is beautifully\ndisposed for every kind of enjoyment; there are landscapes and\npictures for the ladies to draw from, fine grounds for the gentlemen\nto shoot over, everything that generosity and princely goodness could\nprocure to make the evenings as lively and entertaining as possible.\nBalls and dances were, of course, a _sine qua non_. Let us not,\nhowever, imagine it was all dissipation at Althorp. Lords Althorp and\nLyttelton used, every Sunday and often on week days, to read a sermon\nto the assembled guests from some of the Anglican divines, and\nsometimes, too, from the French, as we may see in a remark in the\nfirst chapter. The party at Althorp this Christmas did not go beyond\nthree-and-twenty. George, notwithstanding {94} the sour extract quoted\nabove, went into the sports with heartfelt glee occasionally, and, as\na proof of this, it is enough to say that he danced, in one night, in\nseven country dances and eight sets of quadrilles. He says in one\nplace: \"Lyttelton, Sarah (Lady Lyttelton), and I, breakfasted\ntogether, talking of a wise resolve of Nannette's, to pull down a\nhouse she had just finished at Richmond, because it was not pretty\nenough for the inhabitants to look at.\"\n\nHe goes to London as soon as the Christmas party is broken up, where\nhe dines chiefly at home, but is about occasionally, seeing his old\nfriends, and different things that pleased his whim or his taste. One\nof these was \"seeing the King going in state, and the nobility as\ncontented as if they never said a word against him on the Queen's\ntrial;\" another was hearing Bishop Van Mildert preach. He has the good\nfortune of meeting Sir Walter Scott at his father's, and says \"We all\nstayed the evening listening to him telling Scotch stories.\" His next\nevening would be, perhaps, in the House of Lords or Commons, and all\nthe family seemed in a great stir to be present at the debates on the\n\"Catholic Question.\" What opinions they held about it do not appear\nfrom the Journal; but there is nothing said there against Catholics\nsince he left Italy.\n\nHe begins to clear away the mist that lay between him and the\nparsonage. He puts himself a little in the way of learning something\nof what a clergyman could not be respectable without. His first essays\nin this direction were, to hire a \"dirty Jew master\" to teach him\nHebrew, and to go occasionally to Mr. Blomfield's, who was rector of\nWhitechapel, to dine and talk with clerical company. The first time he\ntried this is told as follows:--\n\n\"I took up Fremantle, and we went together to Blomfield's to dine. We\nmet Dr. Lloyd, Mr. Rennel, Mr. and Mrs. Lyall, Mr. Watkinson, Mr.\nMawman, Mr. Tavel, and one more clergyman--a proper High Church set,\nwith language of intolerance. I was much amused though by observing\nthem.\" So much for his first lesson in church polity. That he was not\nextravagant at this time is evidenced {95} by a little incident. He\nfound himself the possessor of a good sum, and had been, for some\ntime, putting part of his allowance aside until he finds himself able\nto pay his brother, Lord Althorp, what he lent him to pay off his\ndebts in Cambridge, as early as the 7th of April. \"This was a very\nbusy day. I first went to Althorp to offer him payment of a large debt\nI owe him, but he refused it very generously, and made me rich in a\nmoment by so doing.\"\n\nHe pays off the Jew on the 25th of April, having had his lectures from\nthe 8th of March previous. This apparent falling away from the spirit\nof his vocation, was redeemed in a few days, by his falling half in\nlove with some very high lady. He crosses himself immediately for the\nabsurdity, and wishes she were a clergyman's daughter. This fit wears\nout completely in ten days' time. Lord John Russell and Sydney Smith\ndine at his father's, and he says of the latter: \"Sydney Smith is a\nnew person on my list, and very entertaining he is.\" The author of\n\"Peter Plimley's Letters\" must certainly have been an agreeable guest.\nOn the 15th of June he gives the following note:--\"My father and I\nwent to see the marriage of Mr. Neville and Lady Georgiana Bingham, in\nthe Portuguese Catholic Chapel, in South Street, close to Vernon's\nhouse. Dr. Poynter, the Catholic bishop of London, performed it, and\ngave us a long-prosy dissertation on the sacrament of marriage.\" The\nscene changes now to Ryde, Isle of Wight, where the family go to spend\nthe summer. George occupies his time there in riding, fishing (with no\nsuccess), boating, cricketing, and doing the tutor to a young ward of\nhis father. He also learnt perspective from a Mr. Vorley, and his\nopinion of him is, that \"he talks more nonsense than any one I know in\na given time.\" He remained his pupil until he \"picked his brains,\"\nwhich did not require much time or application seemingly. He hears of\nNapoleon's death, and comments thereon thus:--\"We heard this morning\nof Bonaparte being dead in St. Helena. It does not make so much noise\nas one would have thought his death must eight years ago. For one\nthing, it will save us \u00a3150,000 a year.\"\n\n{96}\n\nSt. Swithin's Day, July 15. \"It rained all morning, which is ominous.\n\"This kept them indoors, and it was well, for they were all in a\nbustle preparing for the coronation of William IV. The countess and\nher maids were busy at the laces and the freshening of faded colours,\nuntil the earl's state robes were got ready; when he was called upon\nto fit them on, that the keen glance of ladies' eyes might see if\nthere was a flaw or a speck to be removed. George was present at the\ntime, and says: \"My father put on his robes, and was looked at by a\nroom full of ladies and gentlemen.\" George himself, by the way, makes\nsome bold efforts at grandeur, and succeeds in getting into the Peers'\nquarter of Westminster Abbey, at the coronation, \"dressed in red coat,\nwith ruffs.\" After the coronation, they return to the Isle of Wight,\nand George resumes his sports, with a little variation namely, that he\nhears a \"twaddle preacher,\" and receives the Sacrament without much\npreparation, a proceeding he thus defends:--\"I never can be satisfied\nby any motives that occur for refusing on account of short notice, and\nI think that when the Office is performed with devotion and sincerity,\nto the best of one's ability, it is always profitable.\"\n\nIt may be objected that we do not give more numerous extracts from the\nJournal; but we think it would tire the patience of readers to be\ntold, gravely and solemnly, such grand events as, \"George Lyttelton,\nLord Lyttelton's eldest child, got into breeches to-day.\" Matters\nkindred to this, with the hours of dining, and names of the guests,\nform the bulk of the diary.\n\nTowards the end of this year, 1821, he finds himself alone in Althorp,\nwaiting for the collecting of the Christmas party there, and muses\nthus:--\"I wish I might go on living as I now do, without any company\nand nonsense. I have daily amusement, and, withal, get through a good\ndeal of reading.\" This last clause will make many expect that\nTillotson or Jeremy Taylor is in his hands for a great part of the\nday. It may be so, but we are told in the same page:--\"In the evening\nI read 'Guy Mannering;' for a novel, when once begun, enslaves me.\" He\nwas very fond of the Waverly Novels, and seems to have read them as\n{97} they came out. He misses a hunt, through mistake, and says; \"I\nwas annoyed to-day at the hoy I made in my manoeuvres; but I am\nashamed of being so, for it all came from my odious vanity, and\nsensibility to the opinion of all the fools I met with.\" On his\ntwenty-second birthday he makes these reflections:--\"This anniversary\nbecomes uninteresting after passing 21. But it should be a useful\nannual admonition to make the best of our short, fleeting life. What\nare called the best and happiest years of life are already past with\nme. God grant that I make those that remain more profitable to others,\nand consequently to myself. As to happiness, I think my temper and\ndispositions have prevented my having my share to the full of youthful\npleasures; so I may look forward to the future for better\ncircumstances: if I can but tutor my mind into contentment at my\nsituation, and an engrossing wish to make my duty the leading guide of\nmy actions. Indolence and irresolution are my stumbling blocks.\"\n\nThe new year of 1822 was danced into Althorp by a grand ball. Three\ndays after he had a narrow escape with his life; he went out\npartridge-shooting with Lord Bingham, and this gentleman's\npowder-flask took fire, and burst in his hand. George and the\nattendants were nearly blown up, and Lord Bingham was severely\nscorched. This he considered the greatest danger he was ever in, and\nthanks God for his escape. The impression, however, did not last long;\nfor he tells us, as the result of a game of cards, on the same\nnight:--\"I did not get to sleep for a long time for thinking over a\ntrick at cards which E---- did. I succeeded in discovering it.\" When\nthe Christmas party is dissolved, George's comments are: \"I am sorry\nthey are all going, though the young damsels have caught nothing of my\nheart.\"\n\nThere is an event now to be recorded. He becomes a magistrate, and his\nfirst essay in court makes him think the business very amusing. He\nshouts huzza! on hearing that his brother Robert is about to come\nhome. True, however, to his character, of never undertaking anything\nunless he knew its obligations sufficiently to be able to acquit\nhimself {98} in them to the satisfaction of his conscience, he goes to\nLondon, and studies \"Blackstone's Commentaries,\" to qualify him for a\nproper discharge of his duties as a magistrate. He dines, dances, goes\nto balls and theatres, pays visits and bills during his stay in\nLondon, notwithstanding.\n\nNow he begins to prepare seriously for his future profession. Full\nnine months before he is to receive Orders, on March the 12th he\nbegins to write a sermon. That is the point; let a man give a sermon,\nand he may become a minister any day, provided he has an earl or a\nviscount at his back, and a bishop who sits _t\u00eate \u00e2 t\u00eate_ with either\nin the House of Lords, and has two or three sons whom he wishes to put\ninto posts of honour. The sermon is everything. Any one can read the\nService, provided he has a good voice and distinct utterance; but the\nsermon--that requires brains, views, style, and paper. How these\nthings can be done without we shall see further on. For the present,\npoor George did not discover the secret. He could bowl to a wicket,\nplay cribbage, read Walter Scott, and shoot partridges, but where was\nhis theology? The twenty-five lectures were buried long ago under some\nstone between Cambridge and Althorp. Well, the fact of it was, he must\ndo something. He goes to hear the \"crack\" preachers of London, and\neven the \"twaddle\" ditto. He catches up some idea from them, borrows\nthe book Lord Althorp reads from on Sunday afternoons, and gets an\nidea of what a sermon is like. He sets to, therefore, to write one\nhimself, and in six months that sermon is finished.\n\nOne could not expect him to be a bookworm just now. Lord Palmerston is\nat a stag-hunt, and patronized the young candidate. Washington Irving\ndines at his father's, and George has to take notes of his \"Yankee\ntwang, sallow complexion, and nasal sounds.\" He used to say to us that\none who saw Irving, and heard him speak, could never believe he was\nthe author of \"The Traveller\" or \"Bracebridge Hall,\" and much less of\n\"Knickerbocker's History of New York.\" Irving himself alludes to this,\nwhen he says, somewhere, that the London people {99} \"wondered that he\nheld a quill in his hand, instead of wearing it in his scalp-lock.\" He\ngets over all this after the Ryde recreation, and the hunting at\nWiseton, when, towards the end of September this year, he bids\nfarewell to his military life as a cornet in the Yeomanry of\nNorthampton. This is as a preparation for his Orders; but they come\nupon him still unexpectedly when he receives a letter from the Bishop\nof Peterborough, on the 5th of October, to signify that he would have\nOrdination on the 22nd of December following. He writes to the\nDiocesan Examiner to ask what books he is to read, and how he is to\nprepare, and that gentleman graciously tells him that he need not\ntrouble himself; that he knows, from the respectability of his family,\nhe must be already quite prepared. [Footnote 5] George is contented\nfor the present, but he has an eye to the future; he borrows,\ntherefore, some twelve of the Wimbledon clergyman's best sermons, and\nsays \"that will set me up for a start.\" He then goes on retreat about\nthe 16th of December, and his day is divided into four principal\nparts, making allowances for dinner and {100} sleep, consisting of\nshooting, cribbage, whist, and sermon writing or copying, as the case\nmight be. On the 18th, two days before, he adds one more spiritual\nexercise to his usual ones; he reads a novel. The next day he goes off\nto Peterborough, and dines with the Dean and his wife, \"who are to\nfeed him\" whilst he is there. His examination is gone through--one of\nthe Thirty-nine Articles to be translated into Latin, and he has an\n_expos\u00e9_, with illustrations, on the nature of mesmerism, for the rest\nof the terrible ordeal. This passed successfully, he comes home to the\nDean's house, bids good night to the _materfamilias_, and collects his\nspirits for the great occasion. He is wrapt in sublime ecstacy, and\nbursts forth into the following exclamation in his Journal: \"I am 22\nyears old, and not yet engaged to be married!\"\n\n    [Footnote 5: Here is a copy of the letter with which he was\n    favoured from that dignitary:\n  \" Yarmouth, Norfolk, October 12.\n\n    \"My Dear Sir,\n    \"I am sorry my absence from Cambridge may have made me appear\n    neglectful in answering your letter, but I have some consolation\n    in thinking that you will not have suffered by the delay. As far\n    as I am concerned, in my character of examiner, it is impossible\n    that I could ever entertain any idea of subjecting a gentleman\n    with whose talents and good qualities I am so well acquainted as I\n    am with yours, to any examination except one as a matter of form,\n    for which a verse in the Greek Testament, and an Article of the\n    Church of England returned into Latin will be amply sufficient.\n    With regard to the doctrinal part of the examination, that is\n    taken by the Bishop himself, but it is confined entirely to the\n    prepared questions, which are a test of opinions, not of\n    scholarship. This information, then, will, I trust, be\n    satisfactorily, and will leave you at liberty to pursue your\n    theological studies in that course which you yourself prefer, and\n    which I am confident will be a good one. I really am unable to say\n    whether the Bishop of Peterbro' requires a certificate of the\n    Divinity Lectures or not, but I know that he does not in all cases\n    make it a _sine qua non_; at any rate, I think you had better send\n    for it, as it will give the professor but very little trouble to\n    forward it under cover to your father.\n\n    \"If I can be of the least service in answering any other queries,\n    or in any other way whatever, I beg you will, at any time, give me\n    a line; and believe me, my dear Sir,\n\n      \"Yours very sincerely,\n        \"T. S. Hughes.\n      \"I shall not be in Camb. till the beginning of next month.\"]\n\n{101}\n\nBOOK II.\n\n_F. Ignatius, an Anglican Minister._\n\n\n{102}\n\n{103}\n\nBOOK II.\n\n_F. Ignatius, an Anglican Minister._\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nHe Is Ordained, And Enters On His Clerical Duties.\n\n\nThe Establishment retains in her written formularies a great deal of\nwhat looks very like Catholic. She has an attempt at a profession of\nfaith; a kind of a sacramental rite, as a substitute for the Mass; a\nmode of visiting the sick, a marriage service, baptismal service,\nburial service, and an ordinal; even something like the Sacrament of\nPenance can be gleaned from two or three clauses in the Book of Common\nPrayer. How much of sacramental power there may be in those several\nordinances is very easily determined; we admit none whatever in any\nexcept baptism--the judicial voice of the Establishment leaves its\nefficacy an open question--and matrimony. Of late, some amongst them\nhave felt their want of sacramental wealth so keenly, that they would\nfain persuade themselves the shells of Catholic rites, which the\nReformers retained, were filled with sacramental substance. To give\nthis theory some show of plausibility, they claimed valid orders.\nPamphlets and books have been written on two sides of this question\nuntil there seems scarcely any more to be said upon it, so we just\nmention what is the Catholic opinion on the validity of Anglican\norders.\n\n{104}\n\nWith what Protestants think of them we have no immediate concern; nor\nwould it be an easy matter to extract anything definite from the\nmultitude and contrariety of opinions on this one point.\n\nWe hold them to be simply _null_; they do not even come up to doubt;\nfor if the Archbishop of Canterbury became a Catholic to-morrow, and\nwished to exercise any ministry, he would be obliged to receive all\nthe orders from the first tonsure upwards, absolutely, and without\neven an implied condition. This has always been the practice: and, the\nChurch's acting thus, at the period which is now involved in\nobscurity, is the best _de facto_ argument that the orders of the\nEstablishment were then, as they are now, a human designation, and\nnothing more. There is nothing sacramental in Anglican orders, and\nthere never was, since England broke away from the Church, and,\nconsistently enough, orders were expunged from the Protestant\ncatalogue of sacraments in the very infancy of the Reformation. They\nstill keep up a semblance of orders: they have what they call the\ndiaconate, the priesthood, and the consecration of bishops. A deacon\nis ordained much in the same way as our own deacons, and he can\nperform all the duties of the parish, with the exception of the\nCommunion Service.\n\nWe see a man marked out by an Anglican bishop for ecclesiastical\nduties, without any sacramental grace, spiritual character, or\njurisdiction, for no less a work than the care of immortal souls. Let\nus see now what instruments he has wherewith to accomplish this.\n\nHe had once two Sacraments--the Lord's Supper and Baptism; the former,\nCatholics know to be an empty ceremony, and perhaps it would nearly be\na Protestant heresy to say it was much more. Baptism they had as Turks\nhave, and as every lay man and woman in the world, who performs the\nrite properly, has. Now their judicial decisions do not consider it\nworth the having; so, as far as in themselves lies, they have tried to\ndeprive themselves of it. The practical means of sanctification a\nminister has to use are chiefly four: prayer, preaching, visiting, and\nreading. The reading part may evidently be performed as well, if not\n{105} better sometimes, by a layman. The visiting is often better done\nby the clergyman's wife or daughter than by himself, for, in attention\nto sickness and sweet words of consolation, the female gifts seem the\nmore effectual. All that remains to him, peculiarly for his own, is\nthe preaching, and the respectability of character his own conduct and\nregard for his position may give him. His power is altogether\npersonal, and if he be an indifferent preacher or a careless liver, he\nloses all.\n\nWhether candidates for orders, or even the ordained of the Anglican\nEstablishment, take this view of their position, one cannot be sure;\nbut, from the acts and words of Mr. Spencer, we can form a tolerable\nconjecture of what he thought and intended when he took deacon's\norders from Dr. Marsh, Protestant Bishop of Peterborough, on the 22nd\nDecember, 1822. He makes no preparation whatever, nor does he seem to\nfancy that it is an action that requires any. He gives an account of\nthe ordination, which he was pleased to call, \"talking of business,\"\nwhen making his arrangements for it, a few pages back in the Journal,\nand, as a piece of business, it is gone through by him. We transcribe\nhis own words:--\n\n  \"Sunday, Dec. 22. I breakfasted with Mr. Gibbs and Mr. Gregory at\n  the inn (Peterborough) at 8. At 9, two others of the candidates, Mr.\n  Pearson and Mr. Witherall, joined us, and we went to the palace,\n  from whence the bishop led us into the church, when we were\n  ordained. The service took an hour, including the Sacrament which he\n  gave us. I commenced my church-reading then by reading the gospel in\n  the service. I went (a clergyman) to the deanery. At 11 we went all\n  together from the palace to church, when Mr. Parsons preached a good\n  long sermon--at us very palpably. We then went to a cold collation\n  at the palace till evening church, which we attended. After that we\n  received our letters of orders and licences, and paid our fees.\"\n\nIt may be said that this is a very nice little account squeezed into a\njournal, and one could not expect enthusiastic bursts about the gift\nof the spirit and the power of {106} the Church, in a book allotted to\nthe bare recording of events. So be it. But there are enthusiastic\nexclamations about less important things in that same little book, and\nif ordination looked anything to Mr. Spencer than a condition _sine\nqua_ of his getting fixed in his future position, he would have noted\nit. The absence of deep religious feeling at this period of his life\nmay account in a great measure for this coolness; but perhaps the not\nbelieving there was anything sacramental in the rite itself may give a\nmore satisfactory explanation. To wind up the matter in a few\nwords--he said grace for the family at dinner that evening, and then\nread his _novel_ quietly in his room, because the day was not\nfavourable for any field sport.\n\nThese few explanations were deemed necessary for appreciating the\ntenor of his life from this moment forward. It will run counter to all\nanticipated results in the direction of excellence, and will even go\nfar beyond what its first evidences would warrant one to expect. He\nlooked his position in the face at the very outset: he saw that he had\nsouls to look after, and he knew that he could not do that without a\ncourse of consistent conduct beseeming his character. For the first\nfew days things went on much as of old. The family were still spending\nthe winter in Althorp, and he joined in all the pastimes by which they\nwhiled away the short days and cheered the long nights. It was\nrequisite, however, that the cousins and nearer relations, should see\nand hear George in his new position, if it were only to have something\nto talk about when they came to London. Accordingly, he assisted in\nthe Communion Service on Christmas Day by administering \"the cup,\"\nfirst to his father, and then to others. He did not \"think the thing\nso formidable,\" and it wore off the apprehension he had of appearing\nin public sufficient for him to give his first sermon on Sunday, Dec.\n29. It was on the Birth of Christ, and he says, \"Althorp and Duncannon\nwere my audience;\" whether they were a whole or a part of the\naudience, it is not easy at this distance to discover.\n\nHe might be now considered fairly launched into his new element. The\nrector of Great Brington, a Mr. Vigoreux, {107} was away on the\ncontinent, and the parish was left to the care of the young curate. He\nhad three or four villages, numbering about 800, in his parish, some\ndistance apart, and he lived in Althorp himself. On the 1st of\nJanuary, 1823, he sets vigorously to work, and, regardless of wind or\nweather, walks out from breakfast until about six o'clock every day,\nvisiting the people. After the first few days he gets quite interested\nin the work, and is cheered on by his success in making up\ndifferences, consoling the dying, and assisting the poor. Two notes\nfrom the Journal will illustrate how he felt with regard to this\nvisiting:--\"Feb. 10. Went to Little Brington, where I paid 20 visits\namong the poor. Feb. 11. Visited 15 or 20 houses; this work is very\namusing to me now. I hope I shall never get tired of it, or be\ndisgusted by bad success to my lectures.\"\n\nThe principal work he tries to accomplish by his visits is, the\nsupplying those deficiencies he finds in the people with regard to\nwhat he conceived to be sacraments. His very first round through the\nparish showed him how few were up to the mark of good Christians. Many\nDissenters chose to dispute his right to lecture them, and were not\nslow to produce clauses of protection for themselves; and his having\n\"a discussion with one roaring Methodist,\" did not lessen the\ndifficulty of making them tractable sheep. Discussions proved to be a\nmeans of widening the breach, and simple kindness left things where\nthey stood. Something positive he must mark out as a duty to his\nflock, and then exhort them to it. Instinct led him to the sacraments.\nHe found great numbers unbaptized, believing in a spiritual\nregeneration, and scoffing at the idea of heavenly virtue being in a\ndrop of water; he found more still, and these among the baptized, who\nhad as little love for the Lord's Supper as he had himself once. Now\nthese could very easily be managed by exhorting them to read the\nBible, lending them a copy if they had not one, recommending family\nprayers, and kindness and justice towards all men. Mr. Spencer thought\notherwise. He began with baptism, and within the first fortnight of\nhis clerical life he baptized the nine children of a blacksmith. This\nwas a good beginning, and encouraged {108} him to persevere, but he\ndid not find many so malleable as the offspring of this son of Tubal\nCain.\n\nIn the next sacramental duty he did not see his way so clearly as in\nthe first. In the Church of England, the _Sacrament_, as it is\nemphatically called, must be administered three times a year, may be\nonce a month, and cannot be unless there be a number of communicants.\nGiving the _Sacrament_ once a week is considered very High Church, and\nto give it every morning is going a little too far. Superstitious\nreverence and indifference keep the majority away from this rite, and\nfew come, except they get a monomonia for manifesting their godliness\nin that special direction. This fact will account for Mr. Spencer's\nhesitation, when he took to Christianizing his flock by making them\napproach the Sacrament. He makes many promise to come, and gets a\nneighbouring clergyman to administer it in their own houses to some\ndecrepid old people, who could not come to church. He preaches on\nthis, and \"hopes he has not been wrong;\" he discusses the propriety of\nhis proceedings with his older brethren in the ministry. The result\nseems to confirm him in his ideas, and he preaches a second time, and\ngives appendices to his sermon in every visit, about going to the\nLord's Supper. He still \"hopes he is not wrong.\" He works very hard at\nthis point, however, and on the first Easter Sunday of his ministry,\nhe gives God thanks and prays against pride, at having 130\ncommunicants. There was another little incident on the same day as a\nset off to his success in beating up the parish; when he opens the\nsermon-cover from which he used to read his MS., he finds he had put\nthe wrong sermon there, and had to preach extempore the sermon he\nintended to have read: of course, it was not to his satisfaction,\nthough the people scarcely knew the difference.\n\nOne sad event cast a cloud over the beginning of his clerical life:\nthe sister he loved so much, and whose company and conversation he\nthought more than an equivalent for the gayest party, Lady Georgiana\nQuin, died in London. He was very much afflicted by it, and even in\nafter-life he would be deeply moved when speaking of this sister. He\n{109} did not delay long in London, but came home in a day or two\nafter the funeral.\n\nExcepting this short interval, his time was spent at home in the most\nardent fulfilment of the duties his fervour imposed upon him. Not only\ndid he go about from house to house, but he would spare a day or two,\nin each week, when he went into Northampton for the sessions, and\nvisit the neighbouring clergy. It was his custom to discuss points of\nduty with them; to invite them to Althorp, and spend evenings in\nclerical conversation. He accompanied them on their visits to the sick\nand other parochial employments, to learn, by a comparison of the\ndifferent ways of each, which would probably be best for himself. He\nreads such books as the \"Clergyman's Instructor,\" and other books of\ndivinity and sermons; he never fails to write a sermon every week, to\ncatechise the children on a Sunday, visit the schools, and try to make\nevery one as faithful in the discharge of their duties as he was in\nhis own. About Easter some members of his family came to Althorp, and\nhe relaxes a little for their sakes, and freely joins them in all his\nformer amusements; not, however, omitting any of his visits,\nespecially to the sick and dying.\n\n{110}\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nHe Mends Some Of His Ways.\n\n\nAbout the middle of April he came to London for three weeks' holidays.\nHe calls it \"a smoky odious place,\" and says that entering it makes\nhim \"miserable.\" He is soon immersed in the customs of his society in\nthe metropolis, and his feeling of uneasiness wears off. His little\nexperience in parish work brings a great many things to his knowledge,\nof which he had not the slightest idea before. He is at a great loss,\nalso, how to meet the difficulties he encounters, and doubts whether\nhis proceedings in what he considered his duty have been quite right.\nDr. Blomfield had always been a kind of spiritual director to Mr.\nSpencer: to him he goes now for a thorough investigation of his\nprinciples and even doctrines. Extempore praying was a thing Dr.\nBlomfield never liked, and its adoption by Mr. Spencer shows a leaning\nto Evangelical if not Methodistic spirituality. Whether it was this\npoint, or another of the many things upon which clergymen of the\nEstablishment agree to differ, that they discussed, we cannot say; but\nthe result was far from consoling to either. He says: \"I want some\nsetting to rights in point of orthodoxy I find. I only hope that my\ndecision in regard to my conduct may not be influenced by ambition or\nworldliness on the one hand, nor by spiritual pride on the other.\"\nHere may be seen that real sincerity and disinterestedness which\nguided his every step through life. If we analyze the sentence, it\nlooks as if the arguments of his adviser are taken in part from the\nsources which Mr. Spencer hopes will not influence his decision; and\nthis conclusion is borne out by a letter which will be given further\non, when his confidence {111} in the Church of England became\nthoroughly shaken. It must not be supposed from this that Dr.\nBlomfield was guided himself by these motives, though hints to that\neffect were often rife in his lifetime; but it is natural enough that\nthe doctor should propose family considerations among his other\narguments, especially if he thought those not quite persuasive.\n\nMr. Spencer goes to the theatre, and it was the last time in his life.\nHis account of how that change was wrought in him, gives us one of\nthose peculiar instances in which ridicule proved to be more powerful\nthan logic or decorum. He attended Drury Lane Theatre with one or two\nfriends, and in some part of the performance a parson was fearfully\ncaricatured, and drew bursts of laughter and applause from the\naudience. This touched him sorely; eyes were pointed towards him; his\nfriends laughed the more, in proportion to the efforts considerations\nfor him made them use, in suppressing their feelings. He went forth\nfrom the theatre thoroughly vexed, and vowed he would never go to a\ntheatre again. The Journal does not give a solitary instance in which\nthis resolve was deviated from afterwards. This incident had also the\neffect of making him consider the propriety of several other\nunclerical pursuits, which he followed, as much since his ordination\nas he did before. It was not, however, till towards the end of this\nyear that he began to retrench them, and a little of the same power of\nridicule came to his assistance then also.\n\nHis great concern was the union of all the sects in his parish. He\nknew very well that our Lord gave but one system of Christianity, and\nthat _yea_ and _no_ upon any important point could not proceed from\nHis lips or be parts of His doctrine. He thought conciliatory measures\nthe best to effect his purpose, and he even adopted some of the ways\nof Dissenters in order to be all to all towards them. On this he seems\nto have been lectured by Dr. Blomfield with some profit, for, on his\nreturn home, he says: \"Whit-Sunday. I gave a strong sermon against the\nDissenters, founded on Whit-Sunday,\" In a few days he pays \"an\nunsatisfactory visit\" to one family, and says: \"They are {112} the\nhardest schismatics I've got; children unbaptized, &c.\" This seems\nHigh Church language, and his feeling of opposition to Evangelicals,\nwhich finds expression in a few places, now makes one suppose he was\n\"a proper High Church man.\" He labours hard for several weeks to\nprepare children for confirmation. He has 80 of them ready, and was so\npleased with the whole affair, that he moved the printing of the\nbishop's charge, as he proposed his lordship's health in a speech\nafter the dinner. The Sunday after he goes round to every house, and\ngives final admonitions to those on whom the bishop imposed hands a\nfew days before.\n\nTo help him in his incipient dislike of Methodism he has a very\ncurious conversation with a great \"professor\" of that persuasion. This\nwas an old woman whom he was in the habit of visiting whenever he made\nhis rounds where she lived. On his entrance, they both knelt down and\nprayed alternately for some time, each, out loud and extempore, for\nthe edification of the other. When this rubric was carried out, they\ntalked at full length and breadth on the unconverted and the elect,\nwith sundries other kindred subjects, and this he used to style\n\"comfortable conversation.\" Sometimes the tone of conversation would\nvary, and once it ran upon the line of self-accusation. The old lady\nvery humbly accused herself of a great many faults in general, and\nsignified to Mr. Spencer that she would be very much obliged to any\none who would point out her particular faults, and help her in\ncorrecting them. Emboldened by this, he ventured, after a long\npreamble, to suggest that there was one thing he would like to see\ncorrected in her, as it seemed to be the only speck on the lustre of\nher godliness. \"What is that?\" asked she, rather curiously and\nimpatiently. \"Well, it is that you are rather fond of contradicting\npeople.\" \"No, I am not,\" was the reply. \"You have just contradicted me\nnow.\" \"No, I haven't.\" \"Well, you have repeated the same fault.\" \"I've\ndone no such thing,\" was the petulant rejoinder. Of course, he saw it\nwas useless to proceed further, and his visits became fewer for some\ntime. This {113} anecdote he used to relate with peculiar tact and a\nmost graphic imitation of the old lady's manner.\n\nBefore giving his own account of the rise and fall of his High Church\nnotions, it may be well to mention another incident that occurred\nabout this time, towards the end of 1823. He determines to give up\nshooting and dancing. He told an anecdote about how the first of these\nsports fell into disfavour with him. There was a shooting party in\nAlthorp on a certain day, and George was in the very thick of it. So\nanxious was he to distinguish himself in bringing down game, that he\nwould run to take position for a shot with his double-barrel gun\nloaded, and a cartridge stuck in either corner of his mouth, ready for\naction, so as not to lose a minute in charging. He did great execution\nthat day, and bagged probably more braces than any other. In the\nevening one of the company showed great anxiety to get possession of\nsomething, and eventually succeeded; whereupon, one present said, with\na waggish look at George, \"You've made a parson's shot at it.\" This\nstruck him very forcibly, and suggested the resolution, which he\nfinally came to and kept, of giving up shooting. There is no\nparticular anecdote about his abstinence from dancing, we only know\nthat at this time he refuses to go to a ball, makes his pastoral\nvisits instead, and declares that he feels far more comfortable after\nthis than when he has been \"pleasuring.\"\n\nThe following is taken from a letter published by Father Ignatius in\nthe _Catholic Standard_ in December, 1853:--\n\n  ... \"When I was ordained deacon in the Church of England at\n  Christmas, 1822, I had, I may say, all my religious ideas and\n  principles to form. I do not so well know how far this is a common\n  case now. I have reason to think it was a very common one then. My\n  mind was possessed with a decided intention of doing good, and I was\n  delighted with the calling and life of a clergyman; but my ideas\n  were very vague indeed as to what a clergyman was meant for or had\n  to do. Very naturally, however, on becoming acquainted with my\n  parishioners, among whom the Wesleyan Methodists, the Baptists, and\n  the Independents had been gaining ground for some time previously, I\n  {114} concluded that I had to oppose their progress, and to draw\n  back those who had joined them. This disposition in me was highly\n  gratifying to some of the elder clergy in my neighbourhood, who came\n  to make acquaintance with me as a new neighbour, especially to one\n  old man, an ardent lover of High Church principles, who, to confirm\n  me in them, gave me a book to read entitled 'Daubeny's Guide to the\n  Church,' in which the divine authority of the Church, the importance\n  of Apostolical succession, of episcopal government, the evil and sin\n  of schism, and other ecclesiastical principles, were most lucidly\n  and learnedly demonstrated. So I thought then; and, as far as my\n  recollection goes, I should say now that I thought rightly. I was\n  exceedingly captivated by these principles, which were to me quite\n  new, and I found myself now ready to carry on my arguments with\n  dissenters as a warrior armed; whereas in the beginning I had\n  nothing but zeal in my cause to help me. I did not gain upon them;\n  but this new light was so bright in my own mind, that I had no doubt\n  of prevailing in time. But there was one weak point in the system I\n  was defending which I had overlooked. It was after a time pointed\n  out to me, and my fabric of High Churchism fell flat at once, like a\n  child's castle of cards.\n\n  \"I was at this time living at Althorp, my father's principal\n  residence in the country, serving as a curate to the parish to which\n  it was attached, though the park itself is extra-parochial. Among\n  the visitors who resorted there, was one of the most distinguished\n  scholars of the day, to whom, as to many more of the Anglican\n  Church, I owe a debt of gratitude for the interest which he took in\n  me, and to the help I actually received from him in the course of\n  inquiry, which has happily terminated in the haven of the true\n  Church. I should like to make a grateful and honourable mention of\n  his name, but as this has been found fault with, I forbear. I was\n  one day explaining to him with earnestness the line of argument\n  which I was pursuing with dissenters, and my hopes from it; I\n  suppose I expected encouragement, such as I had received from many\n  others. But he simply and candidly said, 'These would be {115} very\n  convenient doctrines, if we could make use of them, but they are\n  available only for Roman Catholics; they will not serve us.' I saw\n  in a moment the truth of his remark, and his character and position\n  gave it additional weight. I did not answer him; but as a soldier\n  who has received what he feels to be a mortal wound, will suddenly\n  stand still, and then quietly retire out of the _m\u00eal\u00e9e_, and seek a\n  quiet spot to die in, so I went away with my High Churchism mortally\n  wounded in the very prime of its vigour and youth, to die for ever\n  to the character of an Anglican High Churchman. Why did not this\n  open my eyes, you will say, to the truth of Catholicity? I answer,\n  simply because my early prejudices were too strong. The unanswerable\n  remark of my friend was like a _reductio ad absurdum_ of all High\n  Church ideas. If they were true, the Catholic would be so: _which is\n  absurd_, as I remember Euclid would say. 'Therefore,' &c. The grand\n  support of the High Church system, church authority, having been\n  thus overthrown, it was an easy though gradual work to get out of my\n  mind all its minor details and accompaniments, one after another;\n  such as regard for holy places, for holy days, for consecrated\n  persons, for ecclesiastical writers; finally, almost all definite\n  dogmatic notions. It would seem that all was slipping away, when,\n  coming to the conviction of the truth of Catholicity some years\n  after, it was with extraordinary delight I found myself picking up\n  again the shattered dispersed pieces of the beautiful fabric, and\n  placing them now in better order on the right foundation, solid and\n  firm, no longer exposed to such a catastrophe as had upset my\n  card-castle of Anglican churchmanship. This little passage in my\n  ancient religious history is so sweetly interesting to me in the\n  remembrance, that I have looked into an old diary which I used to\n  keep at the time, to make out the dates, and I find by this that the\n  duration of my High Church ideas was shorter than I should have\n  imagined; but it was a period crowded with new, bright ideas, and\n  naturally seems longer than it is. I will, to please myself,\n  perhaps, more than my readers, give the dates. I note that, Dec. 24,\n  1823, the great scholar of whom I have {116} spoken came to Althorp;\n  Jan. 23, 1824, he goes away. This was his last visit, for he died\n  the summer following, as I find it was on the 28th of June, 1824,\n  that, in passing by Oxford with my eldest brother, we called at the\n  Hall of which he was superior, to inquire how he was. He was\n  sick--then on his death-bed.\" [Footnote 6]\n\n    [Footnote 6: The name of the gentleman referred to above was Dr.\n    Elmesly.]\n\n{117}\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHe Receives Further Orders.\n\n\nThe complete levelling of his church principles left him at a loss\nwhich way to turn. The divided state of his parish, and the number of\nsects, seemed to be perpetually harassing his mind. He set about\nconverting them by other ways than exhibiting his \"card-castle;\" he\ntried to open the doors of the Establishment as wide as he could, so\nas to admit if possible all classes of religionists to her communion.\nOf a conversation upon this point with Lord Lyttelton, he says, \"In\nthe evening I had a walk with Lyttelton, and was filled with scruples\nabout the Athanasian Creed by him unintentionally. I had a great war\nwith my conscience in the evening, at bed-time.\" These scruples slept\nfor some time on account of a soporific which Dr. Blomfield\nadministered to him; but they arose again, and were not settled till\nhe became a Catholic. Various discussions procure him \"lights about\nthe Methodist practice,\" and \"distressing thoughts;\" so he gives up\nthat field of working now for another.\n\nThis other field was showing good example of the different works of\nmercy, and he even tries Catholic ascetism. He takes such an interest\nin the poor of his parish that he goes to the hospitals, attends\ndissecting-rooms, and assists at a dispensary until he learns enough\nabout medicine to enable him to make prescriptions for the sick poor.\nHe spends evenings in making pills, and one day when a poor man broke\nhis thigh, Mr. Spencer went and set it for him, and it was so well\ndone that they did not change it when he was brought to the infirmary.\nThe exertion this cost him nearly made him faint.\n\n{118}\n\nThe next thing he notes is, \"I read a most persuasive sermon of\nBeveridge's about fasting; I examined the question in other books, and\nby God's grace I am resolved no longer to disregard that duty.\" He\napplied for advice about fasting, as was his invariable practice when\nhe took up any idea out of the ordinary line. He went to a\nneighbouring clergyman, whom he considered well versed in the matter,\nand, though this gentleman discourages the practice, Mr. Spencer\nadopts it notwithstanding, since his arguments are too weak. These are\nthe principal events out of his ordinary work, except his giving up\ncard-playing, from the beginning of the year 1824 until the 12th of\nJune, when we find him again in Peterborough, on the eve of receiving\npriest's orders.\n\nThe demolition of his High Church notions, as well as the tone of mind\nin which he received the former orders, might lead one to anticipate\nthat he received these second orders somewhat after the fashion of a\nnew step in the army. But it was quite the contrary. His notions of\norders were higher; he looked upon this step as an important one, and\nhe tells us, some days before, \"I walked to-day in The Wilderness at\nAlthorp, ruminating on my approaching ordination.\" He also read the\nOrdination Service over and over, a good many times. On the evening\nbefore the ordination, whilst the Bishop and various clergymen, and\ntheir ladies, with whom he dines, candidates included, amuse\nthemselves with a game of whist, Mr. Spencer refuses to play. We can\ncontrast his reflections now with those used on a similar occasion a\nyear and a half ago:--\n\n  \"Trinity Sunday, June 13.--A beautiful day. I was awake from six,\n  and thought a great deal of my intended step to-day. At 11 we all\n  attended the Bishop to church, and the prayers, ordination, and\n  sacrament were performed all moat satisfactorily to me. I am now\n  bound by the awful tie of priesthood; and most solemnly, at the\n  time, did I devote myself to the service of my Master. May the\n  impression never fade away!\"\n\nShortly before this he heard of Dr. Blomfield's promotion to the see\nof Chester, who, in answer to his letter of congratulation, offered\nhim the office of chaplain. He accepted it, in a long letter to his\nold tutor, immediately he returned {119} from Peterborough. Up to this\ntime Mr. Spencer had been reading the Anglican divines,--Tomline,\nJeremy Taylor, Wheatley, Bull, Hooker, &c.; now he begins to read the\nFathers of the Church. The first he takes up is St. John Chrysostom\n_On the Priesthood_. His opinion upon some of the doctrines he met\nwith there is nicely told in the letter to the _Catholic Standard_,\nfrom which the passage in the last chapter has been quoted.\n\n  \"I had to make a long journey with my brother, in his carriage, on\n  that long day, June 28, from Althorp, near Northampton, to\n  Southampton. It was before the epoch of railroads; and I see we\n  started at half-past three. I was seeking a book to occupy me during\n  this long journey (N.B. no Breviary to recite in those days), and,\n  in the library at Althorp, I hit upon a copy, in Greek, of St. John\n  Chrysostom on the Priesthood. Nothing better. I had heard this work\n  highly praised, and I hoped to find some animating matter for the\n  exercise of my calling as a clergyman. I was not disappointed in\n  this hope; but when I came to what the saint says about the holy\n  Eucharist, as, of course, the grand circumstance which exalts the\n  Christian priest, I was overcome with surprise. I read, and read it\n  again. Is it possible! I thought to myself. Why, this is manifest\n  popery. He certainly must have believed in the Real Presence. I had\n  no idea that popish errors had commenced so soon; yes, and gained\n  deep root, too; for I saw that he wrote as of a doctrine about which\n  he expected no contradiction. What was my conclusion here? you will\n  ask. Why, simply this--_the Saint has erred_; otherwise this capital\n  tenet of popery is true--_which is absurd_. I brought in my Euclid\n  here, as on the previous 31st of December. I see that on the\n  following day I was in the cabin of the vessel in which we crossed\n  to the Isle of Wight, reading _Jeremy Taylor's Worthy Communicant_.\n  St. John Chrysostom, I have no doubt, had been thrown overboard, not\n  into the sea--which was making me then rather sick--as the volume\n  was not my own to dispose of thus; but he had been thrown overboard\n  with a whole multitude of Saints and Fathers besides, convicted with\n  him, and condemned for {120} popish errors, into the black gulph of\n  the dark ages; or rather, I had, by an act of my judgment, extended\n  the borders of that gulph several centuries back, as the Regent's\n  Canal Company are doing with their reservoir near our house, by Act\n  of Parliament, over some of our land, so as to flood him and his\n  contemporaries, and, of course, all after them till Luther rose to\n  set up a dyke and save on dry land those who had courage to step out\n  on the land of Gospel light which he first had re-discovered. I soon\n  came to look on our English Reformers of the Church of England as\n  the greatest and most enlightened men since the time of the\n  Apostles.\"\n\nHe does not give up his asceticism, though he feels the pain of it;\nand well he might, for he would sometimes eat nothing until six\no'clock in the evening, and be all the day going through his parish,\nor writing sermons if the day were wet. He says in the journal of one\nof those days: \"A fasting day till dinner made me very miserable, and\nmakes me doubt the excellency of this means .... dinner did me good.\"\nHe improves upon the fasting, however, by adding another day every\nweek, when he finds that it really helps him to eradicate his passions\nand raise up his mind to heaven. The bodily pain consequent on want of\nfood was not the only thing Mr. Spencer had to endure from his\nfasting. It was a practice that had a popish air about it; his friends\nand members of his family grew indignant that he should be making\nhimself peculiar. He had to bear the brunt of all their remarks; he\ndid so willingly, and would sit down to the family breakfast to feed\non their rebukes and send his portion down untasted, whilst the rest\ntook their meal. He also reads Thomas-a-Kempis's \"Imitation of\nChrist,\" and we see evidences of that remarkable spirit for which he\nwas afterwards distinguished--thanking God for everything. He becomes\na secretary to the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge: that\ninstitution was a favourite of Dr. Blomfield's, and he may have\ninduced Mr. Spencer to patronize it. When Mr. Spencer saw how well it\nworked in its department, he thought of a scheme for improvising\nsomething of his own. He does not give particulars {121} of what it\nwas; but he submitted it to his Bishop, who \"threw cold water on it,\"\nand Mr. Spencer simply thanks God for being thwarted. He is completely\nwrapped up in his clerical duties, so much so that he does not give\nthe full time to his summer vacation in Ryde; he is always impatient\nto get back to his parish when some pressing business requires him to\nleave it; and even, while away, he is perpetually visiting clergymen,\nand talking upon matters belonging to his office. He seems though,\never since the destruction of his High Church principles, to be\ngetting every day more Evangelical in his words and actions.\n\n{122}\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nMr. Spencer Becomes Rector Of Brington.\n\nMr. Vigoreux, Rector of Brington, sent in his resignation of the\nliving to the Bishop towards the close of the year 1824. The letters\nwhich are found among Father Ignatius's papers show this transaction\nto have been very creditable to the Spencer family. The old rector was\non the continent,--he seems to have been very much in debt to Lord\nSpencer, and upon his resigning his living, Lord Spencer not only\ncancelled the debt, but made him so far independent for life, that the\nold clergyman, in sheer gratitude, ordered \u00a37. 10s. to be distributed\nevery year among the poor of the parish, whilst he lived. George was\ntransported with delight at the news, which was given him by a lawyer\nin Northampton, on the 8th November in this year, that Mr. Vigoreux\nhad resigned. Mr. Spencer is full of his secret, and he and a brother\nclergyman have a very pleasant evening in telling \"secrets\" to each\nother--George about the rectorship, his friend about his intended\nmarriage. Things go on quietly now until the usual Christmas\nassemblage of the family at Althorp, and George's reflection on his\nbirthday is this: \"That my life past, in the main, has been mis-spent,\nwasted, and worse than wasted. Last year I have become confirmed in\nthe first of all professions, and I truly desire that I may grow riper\nand stronger in my office.\" For a while he resists the temptation to\njoin in the sports of the young gentlemen at Althorp; at length he\ngives in; he plays a few rubbers at whist in compliment to his father,\nand thanks God that he plays worse and worse every day. He also takes\na few shots; but finding his old {123} eagerness returning, he throws\nup the gun at once, and goes to visit the sick and the poor.\n\nOn the 12th January he is presented by his father with the living of\nBrington, is instituted by the Bishop two days after, and inducted by\na neighbouring clergyman on the 20th of the same month. He is now in\npossession of a good income, can afford to pay a curate to do his\ndrudgery, and might follow the example of non-residence which was then\nso common; but he does nothing of the kind. A fat parsonage does not\ncome to him with an arm-chair or a sofa, and invite him to sit down\nand take his rest. He considers now that the weight of the charge\nobliges him to redouble his labours; he continues to write his sermons\ntwice over, and never misses to have one for every Sunday. It was his\ncustom to give, what he called a lecture, on Sunday evenings,--he now\ngives a full sermon; he also increases the days of attendance in\nchurch as far as he can, for we find him beating up for an attendance\non Ash-Wednesday; and this he calls an innovation. He gets a little\nkeener in the spirit of asceticism just now, for he tries to conceal\nhis austerities; and on a day he fasted till six he says: \"I wish I\ncould root out that devil of ambition and vain-glory.\" Probably it was\nabout this time that the incident happened he used often to relate to\nhis religious brethren in after-life. One day he thought to conceal\nhis fast; but the housekeeper brought up the toast for breakfast, and\nif he sent it down untouched she would have discovered his abstinence;\nhe put it in the cupboard and locked it up; by-and-by the odour it\nemitted perfumed the whole place, to the no small astonishment of the\nhousemaid. The end of it was, that every one discovered what he tried\nto conceal even from one.\n\nWe find a thorough absorption of his energies in the work of his\nministry apparent in every page of his journal, as also from the\ntestimony of those who knew him at that period. One little remark will\nthrow light upon his interior:--\"My dear Lyttelton,--Sal and the\nchildren went away at 6\u00bd. I heard the sad departing wheels out of bed.\nThank God I have heretofore found happiness in my solitude, and shall\ndo {124} so again, I trust. His word, and the way of His Commandments,\nthey are my joy. May I grow in the knowledge and practice of them, and\nI desire no more for this world.\" Another instance of his devotion to\nhis ministry may be seen in the following:--\"Tuesday, March 22.--Rose\n(a neighbouring clergyman) and I began talking about 8\u00bd, and hardly\nceased till 12 at night. Our subject was religion and the Church,\nchiefly.\"\n\nWhat beautiful material was there in this excellent clergyman! and had\nhe been where his spirit would be understood, or where one knew how to\ndirect him, what might he not become? He found himself in a Church\nwhere spirituality and asceticism are exotics, and cannot thrive,\nnotwithstanding that the Scriptures are so emphatic in exhorting us to\npractise them. Then, if he took them up, he knew not how far to go, or\nat what point to restrain himself. He had no manuals, no guides; but\nvague attempts at fulsome piety written for fellow-workmen, who\ndiffered with him on the very first principles of faith. He was,\ntherefore, utterly left to his own views and fancies, and what he\nconsidered grace and inspiration. He was getting too unworldly for his\nposition, too single-minded, and too earnest for the easy-going\nclerical gentlemen who formed the bulk of his acquaintances. Not that\nthe majority did not do their duty. To be sure they did; but what was\nit? To read a sermon from a desk on a Sunday; to pay visits, and read\na chapter of the Bible to a dying sinner. The Evangelical counsels,\nwithout which, in some degree or other, Christian _perfection_ is\nunattainable, are exploded anachronisms in the Established of souls,\nas the outcry against those within its pale, who try to revive them,\nbut too clearly proves. Ecclesiastical virtue, with them, does not\ndiffer from secular virtue, any more than the virtue of a Member of\nParliament differs from that of a Town Councillor. They are both\nexpected to be gentlemen, and to keep the rules of propriety the\npublic thinks proper to expect from their position. That is all. \"Oh!\"\nas poor Father Ignatius used to say, \"shall these dry bones live?\"\nThou knowest, Lord, whether they shall or not; they don't; and in his\n{125} time they were farther from it than they are now. We must\ntherefore expect, from the nature of the case, what is to follow in\nthe next chapter. He goes perfectly astray, in his pursuit after what\nthe \"Church of his baptism\" could not give him. It was fortunate that\nhe strayed in the end from a wrong path into the right one, by the way\nof too far East being West.\n\nEaster Sunday in this year he counts the happiest day he spent up to\nthis, though he had only fifty-eight communicants, a decrease since\nhis first Easter. His point of bringing all to the sacrament was not\ncarried. He had even bishops opposing him in this, as in everything\nelse that was not half world, half God.\n\nThe next thing he notices is, that an archdeacon gave a good charge,\n\"though against the Catholics,--a questionable topic.\" Mr. Spencer had\nno special love for Catholics; on the contrary, he thought themselves\nabsurd, their doctrines abominable, and their ceremonies mummery. He\nwas of the Spencer family though, and in them there was an inbred love\nof justice and fair-play. Lord Spencer and his son, Lord Althorp, both\nfavoured and spoke for emancipation. They thought the Catholics\naggrieved, and if they were Turks, they did not see why they should\ncease to be men and subjects of the English crown. That was plain\ncommon sense; besides, Mr. Spencer had not got so high in Church views\nas some of his friends, who favoured Catholics before their elevation\nand opposed them after it, to please a king. The Spencers were\ngenerously liberal in all their dealings, and even when the subject of\nthis biography, the delight of the family, thought fit to become a\nCatholic, their conduct towards him was worthy of their name. We shall\nhave to refer to this afterwards; the allusion is made now only to\nshow that the tenour of their opinions was not the creature of a whim\nor an ephemeral fancy, but a grave, steady, and well-disciplined\nfeeling. Praise be to them for it. Would that their imitators were\nmore numerous.\n\nHe has also another project on hand at this time, besides the\nevangelizing of his flock. He begins to build a new rectory. He gets\nan architect from London; has {126} suggestions from the family about\nthe length and breadth of the apartments; others, more poetical,\nsurvey the site to give their sentiments about the view from the\nparlour window; the older portion have their say about the comfort of\nthe different rooms, with regard to size, position, and plastering.\nSome few even make presents of articles of furniture, and a near\nrelation gives him a beautiful bed, which commodity has many\nparagraphs of the journal dedicated to its praises and suitableness.\nThe building is at last begun, and we must say something of the\nprogress of his interior castle whilst we let the bricklayers obey the\norders of the builder and architect.\n\n\n{127}\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nChanges In His Religious Opinions.\n\nFor some time we are getting glimpses of his ways of thought, or\nrather of his ways of expressing his thoughts. We read, \"godly\ndispositions,\" \"mature unto repentance,\" \"ripe for glory,\"\n\"comfortable conversations,\" \"springs in barren soil,\" and the\n\"_seeing_ of spiritual _blindness_.\" All these indicate the leaning of\nhis mind, and recall the language of Cromwellian \"Saints,\" and\nBunyan's dreams. The strangest part of his proceedings now was the way\nin which he became \"justified.\" It is hardly necessary to mention that\nin Calvinistic theology, which forms the basis, if not the\nsuperstructure, of the principal part of Evangelical postulates, the\nbody of believers are divided into _elect_ and _reprobate_, or\n_justified_ and _unconverted_. The election or justification is a\nsentiment coming from what is supposed to be the assurance of an\ninterior spirit that one is to be saved. With them, happy the man or\nwoman who possesses this testimony, and miserable the wretch to whom\nit is not given. There is for these latter only an everlasting groping\nin the dark, and a seeking for light, while the _insured_ can go\nthrough this vale of tears in exultation and gladness of spirit. Mr.\nSpencer was not well versed in this particular doctrine, and a poor\nwoman, whom he met one day in Northampton, undertook to bring him to\nthe \"true Gospel light\" by the \"pure milk of the Word.\" She put\ntogether a few of those passages from the New Testament, which are\ngenerally misquoted in support of this outlandish theory, and her\ninterpretation convinced Mr. Spencer, so that he felt justified, all\nat once. This good woman proved to be a great trouble to him\nafterwards; she would harangue him, {128} once a week, on his\nunconverted state, even after the _assurance_. Her letters came\nregularly, four large pages, badly and closely written; and when she\nhad done canting on spirituality, she would fill up what remained with\nthe scandals of the unconverted among whom she lived, and complaints\nat the cold treatment she received from many. She became a kind of\napostle among the Dissenters, and it was only when she had been living\non Mr. Spencer's charity for a few years that he discovered where the\nstrength of her spirit lay. He had reasons for not trusting to the\ngenuineness of her piety, though she kept continually writing from\nNorth Shields, where she lived, sometimes in good and sometimes in bad\ncircumstances, since the regeneration of Mr. Spencer. When she\nreceived one letter in which her sanctity was made little of, she laid\nthe blame on slanderous tongues, and talked about suicide. Mr. Spencer\nthen dropped the correspondence, and gave her a sum of money to\npurchase a like favour on her side.\n\nHe used to amuse us much by relating the system of self-laudation and\nencouragement that kept the Evangelicals interested in each other. One\nday he was describing how a clerical friend of his became justified.\nHe had travelled a good distance, and was pretty tired; the family he\nthought proper to honour with his holy presence in a certain town,\nprepared him a most excellent breakfast. He ate with the appetite of a\nvery hungry man, and when a more secular guest would have said, _O jam\nsatis_, he jumped up from the table and shouted with ecstatic delight,\n\"I am justified.\" He never doubted of his election to glory after\nthat, as far as Father Ignatius knew. The most extraordinary feature\nin their modes was, that a kind of telegraphic communication was kept\nup with each other, all over the country, for the purpose of making\nthe elect aware of the latest addition to their numbers. On finding\nhis brethren were disposed to laugh at the extravagant madness of this\nkind of religion, he grew quite serious, and said: \"They are really in\nearnest, poor things, and we ought not to laugh at them, only to pray\nthat their earnestness might be properly directed.\" One will say:\nCould any man or woman with a {129} grain of common sense, go on\nthinking and talking this kind of unreality, which we commonly call\n_cant?_ As a fact, they do, and we have proof positive of it in Mr.\nSpencer himself. It is astonishing to see a man of his position, good\nsense, and education, talk and write in the strange way he does,\nwhilst this mood of mind lasted. Not only does he write so; he holds\nconversations with every one whom he meets about the state of their\nsoul, and those which he calls _interesting_, others considered very\nprobably the reverse. He also takes soundings of people's spiritual\ndepth, and is seldom consoled at the result. He is satisfied with no\none, except two or three of his immediate neighbours who were fed\nmostly on his bounty or served in his house or garden. He goes at this\ntime (September, 1825) to attend Dr. Blomfield as chaplain through the\nvisitation of the diocese of Chester. He is very zealous throughout,\nand converses on spiritual subjects with Dissenters of all kinds as\nwell as Churchmen; he does not even leave behind the followers of\nJoanna Southcote. Some were supposing once, in his presence, that it\nwas impossible for followers of Joanna Southcote, and the like, not to\nbe fully aware that they were being deluded. Father Ignatius said it\nwas not so, and related a peculiar case that he witnessed himself. He\nhappened to be passing through Birmingham (perhaps it was after he\nbecame a Catholic), and had occasion to enter a shop there to order\nsomething. The shopkeeper asked him if he had heard of the great light\nthat had arisen in these modern times. He said no. \"Well then,\"\nrepeated the shopman, \"here, sir, is something to enlighten you,\"\nhanding him a neatly got up pamphlet. He had not time to glance at the\ntitle when his friend behind the counter ran on at a great rate in a\nspeech something to the following effect. That the four Gospels were\nall figures and myths, that the Epistles were only faint\nforeshadowings of the real sun of justice that was now at length\narisen. The Messias was come in the person of a Mr. Ward, and he would\nsee the truth demonstrated beyond the possibility of a doubt by\nlooking at the Gospel he held in his hand. Whilst the shopman was\nexpressing hopes of converting him, he took {130} the opportunity of\nlooking at the pamphlet, and found that all this new theory of\nreligion was built upon a particular way of printing the text, _Glory\nbe to God on high, and on earth peace to_-WARD'S _men_. On turning\naway in disgust from his fruitless remonstrances with this specimen of\nWARD'S _men_, he found some of WARD'S _women_ also in the same place;\nand overheard them exclaiming, \"Oh! little England knows what a\ntreasure they have in ---- jail.\" The pretended Messias happened to be\nin prison for felony at the time. He assured us that these poor\ncreatures were perfectly sincere and earnest in the faith they had in\nthis malefactor.\n\nThe characteristic features of the Low Church school, or whatever name\nthe religious bias of Mr. Spencer's mind at this time may be called,\nare, a certain self-sufficiency and rank spiritual pride. It begins\nwith self and ends with self. From self springs the assurance of\nsalvation, for self's sake, too, and every one must feel him_self_ in\nthis mood before he can rely on himself. When this fancy gets\npossession of a person's mind, they forthwith turn apostles, borrow\nthe language of inspiration even for table-talk, and no person is in\nthe way of salvation at all who does not completely fall in with the\nstream of the new flood of ideas this notion brings into the\n\"_regenerated_\" mind. No matter how worthy or great any person may\nseem to the reprobate world, and did seem to the newly-made \"saint\"\nbefore the assurance, they are now dark, lost, but hopeful if they\nlisten patiently to one half-hour's discourse upon the movements of\nthe Spirit. The vagaries of each mind are in proportion to the\nimagination, and the facilities for expanding them by giving them\nexpression. But far or near as they may go, self, proud self, is the\nbeginning and end of them all.\n\nThe woman who was instrumental in \"regenerating\" Mr. Spencer writes in\none letter to say that she has \"no pride,\" and that no one ever could\naccuse her of being infected with this passion. At the same time, ay,\nin the very next sentence, we have wrath and indignation at some of\nthe unregenerate who do not think proper to pay court to her. The\nsweeping condemnations hurled against two or {131} three worthy\nclergymen, which opened Mr. Spencer's eyes to the imposition practised\nupon him, are further evidences of the same spirit. Mr. Spencer's own\nways of acting will be a fair sample of this kind of thing. During his\nvisit to Chester in 1825, he lectures the Bishop on several different\noccasions, and considers himself quite qualified to do so by virtue of\nthe new spirit he has imbibed. One of the conversations he describes\nthus:--\"After dinner we had an animated discussion, in which I took a\nlead against the field almost. Before going to bed, I had half an\nhour's private conversation with the Bishop, most interesting _on his\naccount_. I humbly thank God who has heard my prayers, and made me a\nlowly instrument in His hands for the good of this already admirable\nman.\" In the next sentence he tells us that, in travelling home to\nAlthorp, \"I did not read much, but thank God was enabled to keep my\nmind in godly meditation almost all the way. God knows how blind and\nperplexed I am still.\" We have taken the liberty to mark some words in\nitalics in the first quotation, as they show what is confirmed by\nother passages, too numerous to be quoted, how high he had risen in\nhis own estimation when he considered a bishop benefited by half an\nhour's conversation with him. He is very hopeful, though, of bringing\nall the world to his ideas, and says of his family: \"God grant me the\ncontinuance of that kindness which lies between me and all my family\ntill such time as their hearts may be truly opened to my word.\"\nAnother reason why we are rather sparing in extracts is a respect for\na passage which occurs here in the journal. \"I have put down many\ncircumstances in this journal relating to private discussions with\npersons in religion. Should they fall into strange hands, be they\nbound in conscience to use them discreetly.\" We simply quote what is\nnecessary to give a correct notion of the state of his mind. He\ncarried his zeal a little too far betimes, \"he went so far as to\nconsider it the duty of a clergyman to call on and rebuke any brother\nclergyman, whom he might consider negligent in his ministerial\noffice.\"\n\n{132}\n\nThus a fellow-clergyman writes:--\n\n  He got into some difficulties at this time in consequence of\n  reporting to his bishop a clergyman who would not listen to his\n  remonstrances; but mutual explanations succeeded in making\n  everything right. The clergyman in question lived away from his\n  cure, and thought proper to enjoy unclerical, but otherwise\n  harmless, sports. Mr. Spencer, of course, was against this, but did\n  not succeed in imbuing the other with his sentiments.\n  Notwithstanding these notions of self-righteousness, he was far from\n  incurring much censure for officiousness. His character and mode of\n  life gained him so much respect that he could administer even\n  reproof without provoking anger, except where it was too richly\n  deserved. A letter of Dr. Blomfield's to him after this visit, bears\n  out this remark. The Bishop says: ... \"I hope you will look back on\n  your visit to Chester with pleasure. You may have the satisfaction\n  of believing that you have done good to many _young_ clergymen, who\n  had an opportunity of conversing with you, if not to many _old_\n  ones. I was very glad to set before them the example of a young man\n  of rank and good prospects devoted in singleness of heart to the\n  duties of his holy calling.\"\n\nThat his single-mindedness and piety should have thus led him astray\nis not to be wondered at; for, besides the want of a state where such\nvirtues could be properly cultivated, he had to breathe a religion\nwhose first principles tend directly that way. The exercise of private\njudgment in what primarily concerns salvation must always lead one\nastray, because articles of faith are not creatures of human\nintelligence, neither are they within its compass to understand. He\nhad, of course, a private judgment shackled by contradictions, as\nevery subscriber of the Thirty-nine Articles has. He had an authority\nto obey which gave a dubious sound, and he was told plainly by the\nsame voice that itself was defectible; the only tie to obedience was\nthe condition on which he discharged his clerical functions; it was\nnatural that he should see through this, from his very single-mindedness,\nand overlook the conditions while trying to unravel the knots with\nwhich they bound him. His birthday reflections this year, 1825, show\nthat he did not begin to retrace his steps. They are as follows:--\n\n{133}\n\n  \"Dec. 21. ...\n  This day sees me 26 years old, and blessed be my Almighty Protector,\n  the last year has greatly advanced me in hope and knowledge of\n  salvation. A reference to my observations last birthday shows me a\n  great alteration in my views. What admirable methods does He employ\n  in bringing sinners to himself? During the last half-year I reckon I\n  must fix the time when by the most unlikely means God has brought me\n  to faith and knowledge of His grace. I solemnly devote the next year\n  and every day and hour and minute of my future life to coming nearer\n  to Him, to learning His ways and word, and to leading others to the\n  same knowledge, in which He has caused me to exult with a joy\n  formerly unknown.\"\n\n{134}\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nOpposition To His Religious Views.\n\n\nMr. Spencer was so taken with his new birth that he tried to have all\nhis friends and acquaintances born again after his own fashion. He\nmade no secret, therefore, of his religious leaning; by letter and\nword of mouth he tried to bring all to his side. We find, from his\ncorrespondence at this time, a shower of letters from every point of\nthe clerical compass where there was authority or influence enough to\nmuster a cloud for their discharge. In looking over such of the\nletters as he has thought well to preserve, one is struck at once with\nthe diversity of opinion. It is better not to give names, perhaps; but\na few sentences from each may not be out of place.\n\n  Rev. Mr. A.--\"I have read your letter through with great care, and I\n  can say with truth, that it has produced much the same effect upon\n  the eye of my mind which the full blaze of the meridian sun\n  sometimes produces upon the natural eye. It has been almost too much\n  for me.\" The letter goes on encouraging him in his spirit,\n  fortifying him against all carnal opposition. This gentleman is of\n  the same mind as Mr. Spencer, but more glowing in his zeal for the\n  great cause of Gospel freedom.\n\n  Rev. Mr. B.--\"I address myself to one who, from that love of Christ\n  which passeth knowledge, has evinced an anxiety for me, who am less\n  than the least of all saints, and an unprofitable minister of the\n  Gospel of God.\" This gentleman's language is of the right stamp; but\n  he does not agree so perfectly, and arranges for a meeting, where\n  they are to have a mutual adjustment of ideas.\n\n{135}\n\n  Rev. Mr. C.--\"This is very well at the commencement. I trust the\n  Lord will add more, in the best sense of that expression.\"\n\n  Rev. Mr. D.--\".... To this I will never consent [renewing left off\n  discussions], being satisfied (as I have before stated to you) that\n  every man who is able and willing and sincerely endeavouring to\n  learn and practise his duty, ought to be left in the quiet and\n  undisturbed possession of his own conscience, and not forced from it\n  against his will by others who happen to form a different judgment.\n  In our former conversations, you told me, as plainly as language\n  could well do, though perhaps not entirely at one interview, that\n  you considered me to be an unconverted sinner, as destitute of the\n  truth as any heathen could be, and in a state of perdition; and you\n  seemed to think that I could be recovered from that fearful\n  condition by that horrid system of indiscriminate condemnation and\n  terror which prevails (I find) at Northampton in its most odious\n  form, and which I believe to be essentially opposed to the\n  principles of the Christian religion, as it is repugnant to those\n  natural feelings of kindness and benevolence which God has implanted\n  in the human breast.\"\n\nIt might be fairer to transcribe his entire letter; but then the other\nletters have the same claim, and that would make a new volume, for\nsome of the letters extend over fifteen pages of foolscap paper,\nclosely written. The sum of the remaining part is this, that he is\ntwenty-one years in holy orders, and that God could not have allowed\nhim to be in error all that time. He says that, \"I never can for one\nmoment admit that any one is more anxious for my happiness than I am\nmyself, nor that any person has a greater right to decide than I have\nby what means that happiness shall be sought. A man's own\nconscientious judgment is the proper guide in such cases.\" He then\nrefers Mr. Spencer to others more learned than he for the discussion\nof those matters, and mentions the Bishop of Chester and John Rose,\n\"whose qualifications for the task are incomparably superior to mine.\"\nThis gentleman seems to hesitate between Mr. Spencer's opinions and\nhis own, and is rather uneasy lest he might be wrong, yet does not see\n{136} the use of troubling himself, as it is all the same in the end,\nwhen one tries to do what his conscience tells him is right.\n\nRev. Mr. E. is a doctor, so let us listen to him. After a rhetorical\npreface, in which he would make excuses but would not, because they\nwere such friends and did not want them, for handling his friend so\nsummarily, he thus launches forth:--\n\n  \"Although there can be but _one_ line of duty marked out in the\n  situation of _every_ clergyman, and although, before God, the\n  humblest and the loftiest in that profession are equally bounden to\n  _pursue_ the same line of duty, and are, moreover, equally frail and\n  'found wanting,'--yet I cannot bring myself to consider yours as by\n  any means an _ordinary_ case.\"\n\nAfter thus magnifying the importance of his subject, he neither agrees\nnor disagrees, but discountenances Mr. Spencer's practices on\nprudential motives. He staves off the whole matter of doctrine, and\ntalks about discipline.\n\nThe next quotation will be from a bishop. He very wisely and keenly\nobserves:--\n\n  \"Amidst a great deal that is excellent and of right spirit in your\n  observations, there is a presumption and self-confident tone, which\n  is altogether new in _you_, and in my opinion not very consistent\n  with real humility. In fact, I almost wonder that this symptom, if\n  you have ever recalled to mind your conversations, or read over your\n  letters when written, has not made you doubt the reality of what you\n  call your conversion; for I remember perfectly well your having\n  observed to me, that the extreme confidence of those who hold\n  Calvinistic opinions as to their own case, and their extreme\n  uncharitableness towards, or rather _concerning_ others, were strong\n  indications of some radical error in their notions, and so they will\n  ever be considered by those who take the same view with St. Paul of\n  Christian charity.\"\n\nThe Bishop then states the case very clearly at issue between them,\nand points how far they agree and disagree upon the point of\n_assurance_ and reliance on the merits of Christ, and proves his side\nof the question by Scripture, Anglican divines, and common sense.\n\n{137}\n\nIt is a very singular thing that this bishop, when he first heard of\nthe manifestations of Mr. Spencers Calvinistic spirit, concludes a\nshort letter to him thus:--\n\n  \"I recommend to your perusal a most interesting tract, which Blanco\n  White has just published, 'The Poor Man's Preservative against\n  Popery.'\n\n  \"Ever yours affectionately,\n    *****\"\n\nThese specimens are picked at random from a heap of letters. It looks\nincomprehensible to a Catholic how such a state of things could be\npossible in a system calling itself a Church. Not one of these, who\nwere the clergy working with him in the same field and in the same\nway, dared to say, or knew how to say, \"You have uttered a heresy.\"\nSome agreed with him, some applauded him, some wanted to be left alone\nin their old doctrines, and some begged leave very politely to differ\nfrom him, and gave their reasons for so doing. The Bishop argued\nwarmly against him, but Mr. Spencer took up his lordship, and argued\nquite as warmly for the other side of the question. If he did not put\nthem among the reprobate, they should very likely have let him alone.\nSuch was the state of _dogma_ in the Establishment in the beginning of\n1826; it is scarcely improved, except in its own way, in 1865. No\ndefinite teaching, nothing positive, nothing precise, all mist, doubt,\nuncertainty, except that Popery is anti-Christian and subversive of\nhuman liberty.\n\nIt is very hard to imagine, much less to realize, how these lukewarm\nexpressions of assent and dissent turned, in a few months, into a\ntempest of opposition. Perhaps the following guess would nearly\naccount for it. We may conclude from the letter of Lady Spencer to Dr.\nBlomfield (given in his life, page 70), on his being appointed to the\nsee of Chester, that she and Lord Spencer knew something about the\nmaking of bishops and the mode of their _translation_. If she took\nsuch an interest in a stranger, but a friend, it is not wonderful that\nshe should take a similar, if not a greater, interest in seeing a\nmitre on the head of her own son. Lord Liverpool had not yet retired\nfrom the head of the ministry, {138} and if his politics and Lord\nSpencer's were sufficiently of accord to promote the man whom the Earl\npatronized, they would be able to do a like service to the Earl's own\nson in due course. Extreme Low Church views would never do for the\nEpiscopal Bench in those days, though many were raised to that dignity\nwith little High Church views. Whether Mr. Spencer's opinions clouded\nthis bright future, or that the noble family would feel it a disgrace\nto have a son so methodistical, or whether real anxiety for his\nspiritual welfare, or an endeavour to prevent a future that the\nBishop's ken seemed to have forecasted, troubled his parents, it is\ndifficult to say. At all events, Mr. Spencer's religious notions\ncaused a great commotion in the family, whilst those who abetted and\nencouraged him went on preaching their sermons and reading their\nservices in their position, with one exception, and nobody seemed to\nmind them.\n\nLady Spencer took her son to London, in the beginning of the year\n1826, to have his new notions rectified by Dr. Blomfield. This good\ndoctor immediately prescribed for his patient, for he did not need\nmuch feeling of his spiritual pulse after their correspondence. The\ninterview is thus described:--\n\n  \"Jan. 24.--My mother allowed me her carriage after breakfast, to go\n  and see the Bishop of Chester. I did not find him at home, and so\n  came directly back again. He was so good as to call on me\n  afterwards, and sat talking with me a considerable time. His\n  conversation was most pleasing to me, though I could see that we did\n  not fully agree in our view of Christian doctrine (_sic_). He\n  desired me to read Sumner's 'Apostolical Preaching,' which I sent\n  out for and began doing before dinner.\"\n\nHis obedience to directors of all kinds was remarkable; but the\nresults were invariably contrary to their expectations. He began this\nbook at once, and be it remembered, he had read it twice before. Next\nday he read on, and \"marked many passages which he thought decidedly\nwrong.\" He goes out a little, sees an old friend, and delights in\nreading Cowper's \"Task,\" exclaiming, \"It is a great thing to be a true\nChristian.\" He visits the Bishop in a day or two; they hold a\ndiscussion, but part in charity; and the result was, {139} that Mr.\nSpencer wrote him \"the memorable letter\" which scarcely left his\nlordship a hope of salvation if he did not at once get assured of his\nelection.\n\nA correspondence ensues now, which terminates in a promise given and\naccepted of a longer stay in London, where matters may be settled in\nconversation to their mutual satisfaction. In the mean time, Mr.\nSpencer returns to his parish, and begins reading the New Testament in\nGreek (another of Dr. Blomfield's prescriptions). As he lays down the\nvolume one day he exclaims, \"How do I want the milk of God's word!\"\n\nAn old lady whom he visits, in illness, dozes into a stupor, and\nawakens unto Gospel faith. One evening he says:--\"I spent this evening\nwith a mixture of scrupulosities and comforts, but trust soon to find\nout what is the true Gospel freedom.\" There seem still some relics of\nthe old asceticism left in him, for on having to go to Peterborough on\nsome business, he says:--\"I started in a chaise for Peterborough. I\nhad scruples about the heavy expense of this mode instead of coaches;\nbut I was consoled by the opportunity I had on the way of calling at\nTitchmarsh, and having half an hour's conversation with Lyttelton\nPowys. I got to Peterborough at 4\u00bd, dined with the dean and his lady\nat 6, and spent the evening in hearing extracts from his intended life\nof Bentley. I found myself in a land, alas! of spiritual barrenness;\nbut water-springs may rise in dry ground.\"\n\nIt was about this time, March, 1826, that he seems to have given up\nreading anything in the way of theology, except the Bible. He gives an\nodd dip into Cowper's poems, by way of recreation. He came across a\nbook called \"The Convent,\" but immediately \"discovered it to be\nanti-Christian.\" This apparent quiet is, however, disturbed by the\nplay of the clerical artillery around him. The tone of one or two\nextracts from the letters he received now will give an idea of the\nvantage-ground these good champions of orthodoxy thought proper to\ntake. One writes:--\n\n  \"I know you did think it un-Christian-like to converse or employ the\n  mind much on any subject but religion. To this almost entire\n  exclusion of all other topics I decidedly object, {140} on the\n  ground of its having a strong tendency to engender a pharisaical\n  spirit, and of its being inconsistent with the common duties and\n  occupations of life marked out for us by Providence, and contrary to\n  the true interests of genuine Christianity. And my opinion in this\n  respect has the sanction of some of the most excellent characters I\n  have ever known--persons eminent alike for sound wisdom and\n  discretion, and for a quiet and unostentatious, but sincere and\n  fervent piety.\n\n  \"I cannot conclude this letter without remarking, that all your\n  conversations with me, since you adopted your present views, have\n  convinced me more and more that my own religious opinions are sound\n  and yours erroneous; and that every day's experience confirms and\n  strengthens me in the conviction, that the religious system which\n  your friends at Northampton are pursuing (whatever charm it may have\n  for enthusiastic minds) _is not the religion of the Bible_.\"\n\nThis is from the grumbler quoted above, as may be seen by the\nstyle and sentiment.\n\nOur friend the doctor calls him to task in this manner:--\n\n  \".... You are endeavouring to make up for past deficiencies, or to\n  atone for past errors, by renewed activity or rather extraordinary\n  efforts. This you do in perfect sincerity; and, I believe, heartily.\n  In consequence, instead of _one_ sermon on a Sunday there are _two_;\n  instead of a _quarterly_ there is a _monthly_ sacrament; and, in\n  addition, an evening lecture, with prayers, is pronounced every\n  Wednesday evening. Now, supposing you had not taken this\n  unfavourable opinion of your past feelings and views, would you have\n  adopted such regulations? I think you would _not_; and yet, be it\n  observed, the necessity for them was and is a matter totally\n  irrelevant to your own private feelings.\"\n\nThe rest of this letter, the doctor's second, is to sober down Mr.\nSpencer's fervour, and make him go on quietly, hoping thus to slacken\nhis enthusiasm and bring him to his former frame of mind.\n\nIt is sad to see a clergyman called to task for not being more worldly\nand less zealous. He is, in fact, too much like a Catholic Saint to be\nendured in the Establishment. {141} He must eventually abandon it, or\nbe stoned to death with hard words in it. We see the chink now through\nwhich the first alternative gleamed on the Bishop; and we see the\ndisposition of Providence in moving him to confine himself to the\nBible, when some plausible Anglican work might have burnished up what\nhe had of Catholic instinct, and made it seem gold.\n\n{142}\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nProgress Of His Religious Views.\n\n\nIt must not be supposed that Mr. Spencer broke away from the\nEstablishment by the religious notions he took up at this time; on the\ncontrary, his great hope is that he shall unite all the sects to her,\nand he fancies they are being realized now among the Methodists in his\nown parish. His cardinal point of opinion at this time was, that the\narticles and formularies of the Anglican Church required some kind of\nsoul to put life into them and make them touch the heart; that this\nlife had been allowed to eke out of the Church in the days bygone, and\nthat it was high time to bring it back; the wording of the Church's\ntext-books gave room for his interpretation, and his whole line of\nprocedure was but acting upon it. Others interpreted differently, some\ndid not interpret at all; with both classes of opponents he maintained\nan opposition so satisfactory to himself that his notions only gained\na stronger hold of his mind every day. We shall give some specimens of\nthe arguments urged against him by the second class of opponents, who\nwere chiefly influential members of his own family. One writes,--his\nfather:--\n\n  \"I will commission Appleyard to get the Hebrew grammar you mention\n  and send it down, and I am very glad to hear that you intend to\n  revive that study, which must be so useful to a clergyman, and which\n  will I hope be an advantage to your mind by varying the objects to\n  which you apply it, and by that means tend to relieve it from the\n  effects of too intense an application to the more difficult and\n  abstruse points of religious study; which, if not under the\n  corrective guidance of greater learning and experience than it is\n  possible for you yet to have, might lead into the {143} wildness of\n  enthusiasm, instead of the sensible and sound doctrine which it\n  becomes an orthodox minister of an Established Church to hold for\n  himself and to preach to others.\"\n\nAnother,--his mother:--\n\n  \"Infinite peril attends the setting our duties and religious notions\n  in too austere a point of view, and seeming mystic and obscure modes\n  of speech when describing religious sentiments; and disparaging\n  every effort to do right except it tallies exactly with some\n  indescribable rule of faith which cannot be comprehended by\n  simple-minded and quiet-tempered piety, is of all things the most\n  dangerous, since the risk is dreadful either of disgusting, or\n  repelling, or alarming into despair. Nothing proves the perfect\n  ignorance of human character and the art of persuasion than this\n  process. It never can do to terrify into doing right,--stubbornness\n  and hopelessness must ever be the consequence of such ill-judged\n  zeal; and to the preacher uncharitableness and spiritual pride.\n  Milton's beautiful meditation of our Saviour, in 'Paradise\n  Regained,' has two lines which exactly fill my idea of what ought to\n  be the mode of doing good by precept:--\n\n    \"By winning words to conquer willing hearts,\n    And make persuasion do the work of fear.\"\n\n  .... Do not permit yourself to judge uncharitably of the motives of\n  others because their religious sentiments are not always floating on\n  the surface of their words and actions.\"\n\nThe remonstrances descend in a graduated scale from these elegant\nremarks, through letters from old schoolfellows in an off-hand style;\nfrisky young matrons twit him in a very airy kind of argument, and all\nseems to wind up in a flourish from a young officer, \"How dy'e do, my\ndear old parson; ever in the dumps, eh?\"\n\nThe long visit to London is at length brought about. He writes in the\njournal:--\"April 13, 1826. At 9 set off for London. I leave Althorp\nfor a longer period than I have since taking orders. May God make it a\nprofitable excursion!\" This visit was planned by the family and {144}\nDr. Blomfield, when they saw letters were unavailing, in order that\nSpencer might be brought, by conversing with his old master, into\ntamer notions on religion.\n\nHe accordingly dines and speaks with the Bishop and some clerical\nfriends, but the result was this note in the journal:--\"I feel myself\nin this great town like St. Paul in Athens. Not one like-minded man\ncan I now think of to whom I can resort. But God shall raise me some.\"\nThe next Sunday after his arrival in London he is asked by Dr.\nBlomfield to preach in St. Botolph's Church, Bishopsgate street. This\nsermon was to be a kind of profession of his faith. His own\ncommentaries on it are thus: \"I had the wonderful glory of preaching a\nfull and free gospel discourse in the afternoon to a London\ncongregation, and God gave me perfect composure and boldness; and\nalthough he liked not the doctrine, the Bishop was perfectly kind to\nme afterwards.\" The Rev. Mr. Harvey, Rector of Hornsey, says, in a\nletter he had the kindness to write to one of our fathers: \"My first\nacquaintance with Mr. Spencer was about 1824 or 1825, when I was\ncurate of St. Botolph's, Bishopsgate, of which Archdeacon Blomfield,\nafterwards Bishop of London, was rector. Mr. Spencer had been a pupil\nof the Bishop's, and was always regarded by him with great interest.\nHe generally came to him to stay for a few days in the spring, and\nused then to come and see me, and accompany me in my pastoral visits.\nHe was a person of a most tender and loving spirit, very distrustful\nof himself, and very anxious to arrive at truth. On one occasion I\nremember his preaching on a Sunday afternoon at St. Botolph's, when\nDr. Blomfield, then Bishop of Chester, read prayers. To the surprise\nof every one he took the opportunity of explaining his particular\nviews of religion, which were then decidedly evangelical, intimating\nto the congregation that they were not accustomed generally to have\nthe Gospel fully and faithfully preached. The Bishop of course was\npained, but merely said, 'George, how could you preach such a sermon\nas that? In future I must look over your sermon before you go into the\npulpit.' I do not vouch for the details, but this is what {145} I\nrecollect as far as my memory helps me at this distance of time.\"\n\nMr. Spencer went to hear others preach, and forms his opinions of each\naccording to his way of thinking. Here are some specimens:--\n\n  \"The Bishop of Bristol preached in the morning for the schools, a\n  sermon worthy of Plato rather than St. Paul.\" Another day: \"Went\n  with all speed to Craven Chapel, where I heard Irving, the Scotch\n  minister, preach nearly two hours. I was greatly delighted at his\n  eloquence and stout Christian doctrine, though his manner is most\n  blameably extravagant.\" Another day: \"I went with Mr. A---- and Miss\n  B---- to hear Mrs. Fry perform, and was delighted with her\n  _expounding_ to the prisoners in Newgate.\"\n\nHe seems to advance more and more in his own religious views; and he\nsays his father was wretched about them. He gets an opportunity of\npreaching in the West End of London, and writes thereupon: \"O my God,\nI have testified thy truth to east and west in this horrid Babylon.\"\nHe soon after returns home, and is so far improved that he determines\nto preach extempore for the future; in this he succeeds very well.\nWhat led him to this resolve was the facility with which he could\nmaintain a conversation on religious topics for any length of time,\nand the rational supposition that he might do the same, as well in the\npulpit as in the parlour.\n\nA letter to the Rev. Mr. Harvey, which is the only one that we have\ncome across of those written by him at this time, gives a fair idea of\nthe state of his mind: it was written on his return to Althorp after\nthis London visit.\n\n    \"_August 3, 1826._\n\n  \"My Dear Harvey,--Bishop Heber's sermon I think beautiful. I am also\n  pleased with all that has come of late from Bishop Sumner. His\n  apostolic preaching does not fully satisfy me, and I have little\n  doubt, from his writings, that he would not consider it as exactly\n  representing his present views. .... It must be admitted that St.\n  Paul's sins before his conversion are not so heinous as {146} those\n  of many who have not ignorance and unbelief to plead in their\n  favour. ....  With regard to the question whether we be under guilt\n  and eternal wrath, or in the favour of God and on the way of life,\n  it seems to me highly dangerous to look to any distinction but this\n  plain one, 'He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the\n  Son of God hath not life.' .... Having thus ventured an opinion to\n  you, I will go on to say that I wish I could have some conversation\n  with you at large on these matters. I do not wish to introduce\n  discussions on these points with my brethren, except when I am led\n  to it by circumstances, and therefore I never entered on the subject\n  with you during my stay in London. I have sometimes blamed myself\n  for it, because you seemed to me to be so candid and unprejudiced\n  that I might have done so without any risk of displeasure. I now\n  tell you that I was much pleased always with the spirit of your\n  sermons and with all your feelings, as far as I could judge of them\n  from conversation; but I could plainly perceive that your views of\n  fundamental doctrines were not what, I am convinced, are the right\n  ones according to the Word of God and the Articles of our Church.\n  The Bishop would have told you, I suppose, that he and I were at\n  variance on these points, though in mutual regard and attachment I\n  humbly trust we never before were so nearly united. Indeed, I never\n  had an argument with him which did not leave me in admiration of his\n  genuine meekness and charity. .... I reckon him very nearly right,\n  and I am sure that he has real humility and an inquiring spirit; and\n  so I firmly trust that, by God's blessing, he will be led to\n  acknowledge the whole truth, and that very shortly. .... All that I\n  venture to say is that he has not, to my mind, yet taken the right\n  view of the plan of Redemption. But I am so convinced of his being\n  on the right way to it, that I could almost engage to acknowledge my\n  own views wrong (though I have not a single doubt of them now), if,\n  before his departure, which God send may be distant, he does not\n  declare his assent to them. I believe that you are just of the same\n  mind on these things, as I was myself a year or two ago. {147} You\n  probably know that my present views are of comparatively recent date\n  with me. They are, in fact, what I have at last settled into, after\n  two or three years of extreme doubts and oscillations and\n  scrupulosities. I thank God that from all these He has delivered me,\n  except the trouble and annoyance of my own evil heart, from which,\n  however, I do not expect complete freedom, while in this tabernacle.\n  As to writers on the subject, I have none, besides the formularies\n  of our Church, whose doctrines and principles I like better than\n  Thomas Scott's. There are some points of discipline, however, in\n  which I do not go along with him. But I now attach myself most\n  exclusively to the Word of God and prayer, as the method of\n  increasing in knowledge, and feel delighted in the freedom which I\n  have gained from the variety of opinions of learned men, which used\n  to perplex me so grievously.\"\n\nThis is what he looked upon as being in the Gospel freedom, that he\nwas free from doctors; and it is a freedom. If Anglican doctors were,\nlike our theologians, all of a mind in doctrine, with a certain margin\nfor diversity of opinion in things of minor consequence, or in the way\nof clearing up a difficulty, it might be borne; but when one has\ntheologians for guides who agree about as much as one living clergyman\nagrees with another, it is surely a freedom to be delivered from a\nyoke that presses on so many sides, and forces so many ways at once.\n\n{148}\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nSome Of The Practical Effects Of His Views.\n\n\nIt is high time that we should turn from the abstract consideration of\nMr. Spencer's views, and test their efficiency by the great standard\nof good and evil--facts. The facts, bearing upon our subject, which\nthe Journal gives up to this period of his life, the close of 1826,\nand beginning of the next year, may be summed up in few words. One old\nwoman was the only one of whom he could say, \"she seems fully\nestablished in religion;\" and it is remarkable that this very person,\nMrs. Wykes, became a Catholic later on. All the rest were in different\nstages of fermentation; some \"hopeful,\" some \"promising,\" some\n\"ripening unto light,\" and so forth: they ripen more and more\naccording to the number of his visits; but if it should happen that\nthey did not need material help from him, they very soon got back to\ntheir old way again, and poor Mr. Spencer used to return, after his\nday's apostleship, much humiliated at his want of success. In fact,\nhis missionary work was a perfect representation of Protestant\nmissions to the heathen. He distributed Bibles and blankets,\nprayer-books and porridge, and three of his best and most hopeful\nproselytes went mad, and were sent to the county lunatic asylum. Of\nhimself, he tells us that he used to spend from two to three hours\ndaily in godly contemplation. Of this he began to get tired after some\ntime, and gives the following extraordinary notions of his interior\nstate:--\n\n  \"Sep. 2. I was employed chiefly in reading Gr. Testament; but I find\n  myself very far yet from that state of real activity of mind which I\n  ought to gain. I wish for such experience in Christ as not to need\n  spiritual exercises as constantly as I now do to keep up communion\n  with God, and so have more time for active labour.\"\n\n{149}\n\n  \"Sep. 12. I went to Nobottle at 12 and returned at 3. I called in\n  every house except Chapman's, and, alas! I found _not one soul_ over\n  whom I could rejoice as a true child of God. Yet there are signs of\n  hope in a few. What an awful scene it would be if I had eyes to see\n  it, or how great is my deliverance, who, though not less deserving\n  perdition than any, am yet planted in the House of God, and rejoice\n  through Christ in the hope of His glory.\"\n\nHe begins the new year, 1827, with the following:--\n\n  \"I have found my mind so far from settled that I never saw myself\n  more in need of God's grace. But I shall find it.\"\n\nStrange prophecy; he was determined never to rest content until he\ncould feel right with regard to God and his salvation, and it is\nneedless to say that he was far from this, notwithstanding his great\nCalvinistic assurance.\n\nEvery new Dissenting minister that comes into his parish, he makes it\nhis business to call upon and see if they could not unite their\nrespective flocks, even by compromising differences. He sometimes\ncomes home flushed with hope, and then, when he tries to persuade his\nfellow-clergymen of the Establishment to make advances to Methodists\nor Baptists, their coldness brings his hopes to nought. Nothing\ndisheartened, he comes to the charge again, and is buoyed up, the\nwhole time, by the hope of one day or other seeing his beloved people\nin one fold, under the care of one shepherd.\n\nHe removes in the middle of this year to the house he built for\nhimself at Great Brington, and he learns the pleasures of housekeeping\nin a few weeks by the difficulties he encounters in the management of\nservants. The rest of the year, until towards October, goes on rather\ncalmly; no incident of importance occurs except the preaching of his\nVisitation Sermon. The Bishop of Peterborough, Dr. Marsh, comes to\nmake his diocesan visitation in Northampton, and the Honble. and Rev.\nMr. Spencer is asked to preach before him. He does so very nervously,\nand although he introduces one passage into that sermon indicative of\nhis peculiar views, the Bishop was so pleased with it, {150} that he\nordered him to print it. It was printed accordingly, and Mr. Spencer\nsent copies to all the friends he could remember; he even sent some\nacross the Atlantic to old schoolfellows. Between thanks for the\nreception of this favour, and mutual acknowledgments of esteem and\nregard, with compliments and returns of the same, an interval is given\nhim to prepare for another storm on the score of his opinions.\n\nThe second volume of his diary concludes with some distressing\ndiscussions and family animadversions on his ways of thinking. It\nsounds rather strange in Catholic ears that lay people should deem\nthemselves qualified to lecture a clergyman on what he ought to\nbelieve and teach; it ought not, if he remembers that we are speaking\nof a land of private judgment, where every one is qualified to think\nand dictate to his neighbour. The friends take their arguments now\nfrom a different point. Mr. Spencer had built his new rectory and gone\nto live there; the architect had done his part so well, that he would\nsometimes come off the coach, when passing near Brington, so that he\nmight have another look at this specimen of material comfort. It was\nfurnished, too, in a befitting style, for George went even to London,\nand took counsel with his mother and others on what things were proper\nand best suited for a parsonage. The best upholsterers were made to\ncontribute from their stock of cupboards, beds, mattresses, chairs,\nand tables, and when the van arrived at Brington, there were several\nconnoisseur female relatives invited to give their opinions on the\ncolouring and papering of the rooms, the hanging and folds of the\nwindow curtains, and the patterns of the carpets. All was finally\narranged to the satisfaction of all parties, and only one thing was\nwanting,--\"the partner of his joys,\" or troubles, as they would be\nnow, poor man.\n\nBright ideas struck his friends about this time. It was thought, in\nvery high and intellectual circles, that if the young rector of\nBrington were married, he would settle down quietly in the snug\nparsonage, and make metaphysical ideas give way to the realities of\nlife. This they concluded was the short road to his settlement, and he\nhimself used {151} often to tell how long arguments on religious views\noften ended with, \"Well, George, get yourself a wife, and settle down\nlike your neighbours, and all these dreams will vanish.\" To their\nsurprise, however, they found the young rector as difficult of\npersuasion in this point as in his other notions; but experience gave\nthem the advantage over him here, and they were determined not to be\nfoiled. The want of a house to bring the bride to, was thought to be\nthe sole objection heretofore, and perhaps it was; that was now\nremoved. Suggestions to that effect reach him in letters from his\nfriends about this time. The following is a specimen:--\n\n  \"It is probable that I shall return to Brington for the winter. If N\n  *** or N *** succeeds in a matrimonial alliance on your account, I\n  hope you will speedily let me know; perhaps an insinuating\n  advertisement in the _Morning Post_ might be useful to you. Joking\n  apart, I shall be most happy when the time comes for wishing you\n  joy.\"\n\nInsinuations and arguments did not avail, so they had recourse to\nstratagem. One would not like to suspect that the Bishop of Chester\nwas let into the secret, though he ought to be a capital hand at such\nthings, as he had the hymeneal knot twice tied upon himself. However\nthat may be, the plot was laid, hatched, and the eggs broken as\nfollows:--Towards the end of October, 1827, he accompanied Dr.\nBlomfield on a visitation through the diocese of Chester. He was taken\na little out of his way in order to preach in a church near\nWarrington. The rector of this place asked him specially;--what was\nhis surprise to find his \"old flame,\" Miss A ***, as mentioned in a\nformer chapter, there ready prepared to be one of his listeners. He\nwalked with her to church, and was delighted with her company; he used\nto say he never preached, whilst a minister, with greater satisfaction\nthan on that day. Coming home from church he had to hear out\ncompliments about his preaching, and he spent the evening with a\nclerical party--one was a clergyman who was about being married to the\nsister of Mr. Spencer's favourite. It was thought everything would\ncome round then, and that some kind of arrangement would be made for\nthe future; but Mr. Spencer, though pleased, {152} was not anywise\nromantic, nor apt to put his head into a halter from which it would\nnot be so easy to draw it back. It was well, however, that he was\npleased, and he evinces as much himself in his Journal, when he says:\n\n  \"Sunday, Oct. 21.\n  I begin this volume with one of the most interesting Sundays I have\n  ever spent. After breakfast with Mr. ***'s family, we went to church\n  about half a mile from the house, where I preached the first sermon\n  which it has been given me to preach in this diocese; and I am\n  pleased that it should be in this church and before N *** N ***\n  among other hearers, with whom I now converse as pleasingly as in\n  former times, but on higher subjects. With her and her sister I\n  walked home, and again to evening service, where I read prayers and\n  Mr. *** preached.\"\n\nBut this argument met the fate of all that had been spent on him for\nthe last three years. It seemed all settled as far as he was\nconcerned; for there was no doubt on the other side. He got into his\ncarriage to drive up to Althorp, and ask his father's consent. When\nnear the door, he called to the driver to stop, and turn to the\nrectory. He had just formed the resolution _never to marry_. It was\nnot that he did not like the intended partner, it was an affair of\nlong standing; but he remembered the words of St. Paul: \"He that is\nunmarried careth for the things that belong to the Lord, how he may\nplease the Lord: But he that is married careth for the things that are\nof the world, how he may please his wife\" (1 Cor. vii. 32, 33, Prot.\nversion). No one was ever able to shake this resolution, and the\nrepeated attempts of others to do so only strengthened it the more. He\noften related this incident to us, and when asked, if he then thought\nof the Catholic priests, \"Oh, I might, but I thought it was some\nsuperstitious motive that made them live single; I thought I made a\nnew discovery myself;\" he would reply.\n\nA change takes places now in his finances. He was Always extremely\ncharitable, and his housekeeper tells of his equipment, when going out\nto make his parish rounds, of a morning. He would carry a bottle of\nwine in his coat pocket, and as much money as he could possibly spare.\n{153} These he distributed among the sick and the poor. He used also\nto buy them medicines, and procure them clothes. Of course it was\nfound soon that a very large income would not suffice for the\nliberality of the son, so Lord Spencer came to an arrangement with\nhim. He allowed him a liberal yearly income; but George feels it\nrather hard, and complains of his straitened means in two or three\nplaces of his Journal. However, he set to make the best of it, and\nbegan by retrenchment from his own table. \"By way of retrenchment, I\nhave left off wine and puddings or tarts, and I have reduced my\nquantity of clean linen to wear.\" Ever himself, what he spared from\nhis own table he brought to the poor. \"We shall transcribe the simple\naccount of this period of his life given us by Mrs. Wykes, who knew\nhim from a child.\n\n  \"His great charity to the poor and wandering beggars was unbounded.\n  At times he gave them all the money he had, and stripped himself of\n  his clothes to give them to the distressed; and when he had nothing\n  to give, he would thank God he had only His holy truth to impart,\n  and would speak of the love of God so fervently, that he would call\n  forth tears from the poor objects of misery who came many miles to\n  beg money or clothes of him. Many impostors presented themselves\n  with the rest, but even those he thanked God for, and thought\n  nothing of relieving them, as he said he lost nothing by them, but\n  got a lesson of humility. Some poor afflicted mendicants would\n  present themselves with loathsome sores, and these he would assist\n  in dressing and try to cure. His house was always open for the\n  distressed, and he often longed to make an hospital of it for the\n  poor. He was all for gaining souls to God; he would often walk to\n  Northampton to visit the lodging-houses, and most infamous dens of\n  the dissolute, to speak to them of God's holy law and mercy to\n  sinners. Indeed his whole time was devoted to doing good. He did not\n  often allow himself the privilege of riding, but would walk to\n  Northampton or further, carrying his clothes in a knapsack strapped\n  over his shoulders, and would smile at the jeers and laughs against\n  him, glorying in following out the practice of the Apostles. He\n  fasted as well as he knew {154} how, much stricter than when he\n  became a Catholic. In fact he allowed nothing to himself but plain\n  living, and willingly granted better to others. He gave no trouble,\n  but was always ready to wait upon others, and make them happy and\n  comfortable. He was always ready to hear complaints, and turn\n  everything into the goodness of God. He was indeed the father of the\n  poor, and a peace-maker, though meeting with many contradictions,\n  particularly among the Dissenters. He bore all with patience and\n  cheerfulness, and went on hoping all would end well in due time.\"\n\nThe last _effect_ we shall record in this chapter is another passage\nfrom his Journal:--\"Saturday, Nov. 17. To-day I called on Mr.\nGriffiths, Independent minister at Long Buckley, with whom I had one\nor two hours' conversation of a very interesting kind. I see clearly\nthat all is not right with the Church.\" He means the Church of\nEngland, of course.\n\n{155}\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nScruples About The Athanasian Creed.\n\n\nIn the December of 1827 the old scruples, that came into his head some\ntwo years before, about the Athanasian Creed revived. Perhaps it is\nbetter to give the words of the Journal before going into particulars\non this point. He says--\n\n  \"Tuesday, Dec. 4.--.... Thursby came to dine and sleep here. We\n  conversed till nearly 12, almost incessantly, about his concerns\n  first, then about mine. I let him know my thoughts of resigning my\n  preferment on account of the Athanasian Creed. He was at first very\n  much displeased at them, but seemed better satisfied as I explained\n  myself.\"\n\n  \"Wed., Dec. 5.--I came down after a wakeful night, and much\n  confirmed in my resolution to take decided steps about declaring\n  against the Athanasian Creed. Thursby seemed to coincide much more\n  nearly with my views. We talked on this and other topics until 11 or\n  12, when he went away. I went out in Great Brington till 2; dined;\n  then ran to Althorp .... came back and wrote long letters to my\n  father and the Bishop of Chester, about my intended declaration, and\n  probable resignation of my living. I here solemnly affirm that\n  before last week I had no sort of idea of taking this step. I am now\n  writing on Friday, fully determined upon it. The circumstances which\n  led me to this decision are:--1st. My many conversations of late,\n  and correspondence with, dissenting ministers, by whose words I have\n  been led to doubt the perfectness of our Establishment. 2ndly. My\n  discussions and reflections about retrenchments, leading me to\n  consider the probability of more preferment, and how I could accept\n  it. 3rdly. The quantity of Church preferment which has been of late\n  {156} changing hands, by which I have been led to think how I should\n  answer an offer myself. And, 4thly. My thoughts about signing\n  Baily's boy's testimonial, which has led me to reckon more highly on\n  the value of my signature.\"\n\nFrom the letters of those who undertook the setting of Mr. Spencer's\ntroubles at rest, it appears that his difficulties about the\nAthanasian Creed did not arise from the doctrines there put forth\nabout the Blessed Trinity and Incarnation; but that he objected to the\nterminology as un-Scriptural, and to the condemning clauses in the\nbeginning and end of the Creed. Dr. Blomfield is the first to reason\nwith him; his answer to the letter above-mentioned is couched in the\nfollowing terms:--\n\n  \"The letter which I have just received from you astonishes and\n  confounds me; not that I ought to be surprised at anything strange\n  which you may do, after what I have lately witnessed and heard; but\n  I must say, in plain terms, that your letter is the letter of an\n  insane person. You profess to be willing to ask advice and hear\n  reasoning, and yet you take the most decided steps to wound the\n  feelings of your friends and injure the cause of the Church, without\n  giving those whom you pretend to consult an opportunity of\n  satisfying your doubts. You suffer your father to be with you two\n  days without giving him a hint that you were meditating a step\n  incomparably the most important of your life, and most involving his\n  happiness; and then, in the midst of his security, write him a\n  letter, not to tell him that you are doubtful on certain points and\n  wish to be advised, but that your mind is made up and you are\n  determined to act. Surely common sense and filial duty ought to have\n  suggested the propriety of waiting till you had communicated with\n  me, although even to me you do not state what your doubts and\n  difficulties are with sufficient precision to enable me to discuss\n  them; but you write a long panegyric upon your own sincerity and\n  humility, of which I entertained no doubt, and thus, after repeated\n  conferences with Dissenting ministers and Roman Catholic priests,\n  far more astute and subtle reasoners than yourself, you are worked\n  up into an utter disapprobation of one of the articles of our\n  Church, having all along concealed your doubts from your nearest and\n  dearest {157} friends, and from me, who had an especial claim to be\n  made acquainted with them. Is this sincere and judicious conduct?\"\n\nHe proceeds to some lengths in this style, then tells him that it is\none thing to doubt of the truth of a doctrine, and another thing to\nbelieve it to be false, and that one should take no step of importance\nuntil he thought in the latter way. He tells him to be quiet for some\ntime, and give him the objections one by one. This Mr. Spencer does,\nand the answer is partly, that given in Dr. Blomfield's life, page 85,\nand partly, another letter he wrote to him within a fortnight's time.\nThe argument of this good ecclesiastic shapes itself thus:--\n\n  \"The general proposition of excluding all from salvation who do not\n  believe the doctrine of the Trinity and Incarnation, as set forth in\n  the Athanasian Creed, is laid down with certain limitations. The\n  Protestant Church does lay it down thus, as is evident from certain\n  quotations from the Articles. Besides, she never intends to\n  pronounce a condemnation on any, like the Church of Rome. The\n  meaning, therefore, of these clauses is an assertion of the truth of\n  the doctrine simply; and for this he quotes the opinion of some\n  commissioned interpreters and the admission of \"the most scrupulous\n  and captious Baxter that such exposition may be received.\"\n\nThis is the sum of Dr. Blomfield's argument; he gives several other\nauthorities for his opinion. We need not be surprised that the\nargument was not convincing; and Mr. Spencer says, in his Journal:--\"I\nhad a letter from the Bishop of Chester this morning, which was weak\nin argument and flippant; I hope good may result from it.\" The\nweakness of the Bishop's argument arises from the dilemma in which he\nwas placed. If he said the Anglican Church does really condemn all who\nhold not her doctrines, then she would arrogate to herself the claim\nof infallibility which she takes good care to disclaim, and even makes\nan article to that effect. If she does not condemn, what is the\nmeaning of allowing the clauses to remain in her formularies, and\nrequire her ministers to subscribe, read, and preach them? His only\nline of argument, considering his position, was to {158} steer a\nmiddle course, and this he endeavoured to do, and succeeded pretty\nwell. But shifting difficulties by trying to reconcile contradictions,\nis a process that may calm an easy-going mind, previously disposed to\nindifference, but never can satisfy a clear, earnest one, that seeks\nthe truth in all its terrible reality and straightforward meaning. A\nChurch composed of a mass of heterogeneous elements in doctrine and\npractice, must be very hard set indeed when driven to give an account\nof herself. The wonder is, that she cannot see the absence of a Divine\nguidance, even in the admissions she is forced to make, if not in the\nvery nature of her own human constitution. Only a Catholic can account\nfor a creed, and if there was not a body of living teachers with the\npromise of Divine direction in their formal decisions and utterances,\nthe Church that Christ established would not exist; and only Catholics\ncan claim and prove this very hinge of their system, which\npseudo-bishops have their hits at when they writhe under the pressure\nof difficulties they cannot answer.\n\nThe letter of this Bishop did not settle Mr. Spencer's mind--it\nunsettled him the more. Two or three clergymen were invited to talk\nhim back to the old way, but with similar success. Lord Spencer then\ngets one of the London clergy to undertake the task which foiled so\nmany. We give the father's letter of introduction, as it is so\ncharacteristic of his paternal affection and concern, and at the same\ntime his due consideration for his son's conscientious difficulties.\nThe Earl was staying in Althorp for a few days, and left this letter\nfor George on his departure:\n\n  \"Your mother writes me word that Mr. Allen, of Battersea, will come\n  and dine with her to-morrow, and remain here nearly the whole week.\n  I am very happy at this, because, if you are sincere (and I do not\n  now mean to question your sincerity) in wishing for information,\n  instruction, and advice, I know of no man--either high or low,\n  clerical or secular--more able to afford them to you, more correct\n  in his doctrines and character, or more affectionately disposed to\n  be of all the service he can to every one connected with {159} us,\n  and to you in particular. But, my dear George, in order to enable\n  yourself to derive all the benefit that may unquestionably be\n  derived from serious and confidential communications on a most\n  important subject, with such a man, you must be more explicit, more\n  open, and more confidential with him than, I am grieved to think,\n  you have yet been, either with your excellent friend the Bishop of\n  Chester, or even with me, though I allow that in the conversations\n  we have had together _in this visit_ to you here, I saw rather more\n  disposition to frankness on your part than I had before experienced.\n\n  \"I should not thus argue with you, my dear George, if I did not from\n  my heart, as God is my judge, firmly believe that your welfare, both\n  temporal and eternal, as well as the health both of your body and\n  mind, depended upon your taking every possible means to follow a\n  better course of thinking, and of study, and of occupation, than you\n  have hitherto done since you have entered the profession for which,\n  as I fondly hoped, and you seemed fitted by inclination, you would\n  have been in due time, if well directed and well advised, formed to\n  become as much an ornament to it as your brothers are, God Almighty\n  be thanked for it, to those they have entered into.\n\n  \"I still venture to hope, though not without trembling, but I do\n  hope and will encourage myself in the humble hope, which shall be\n  daily expressed to the Almighty in my prayers, that I may be\n  permitted, before I go hence, to witness better things of you; and I\n  even extend my wish that when I return hither on Friday, I may have\n  the satisfaction of learning that your interviews with Mr. Allen,\n  who I have no doubt will be well prepared to hear and to discuss all\n  you have to say, have had a salutary effect; and that our private\n  domestic circle here may be relieved from the gloom which, for some\n  time past, you must have perceived to overhang it when you made part\n  of it, and afford us those blessings of home so comfortable and\n  almost necessary to our advancing age. I write all this, because,\n  perhaps, if I had had the opportunity, my spirits, which are {160}\n  always very sensitive, might prevent me from speaking it. God bless\n  you, my dear George.\n\n    \"Your ever affectionate father,\n      \"Spencer.\"\n\nThe conferences he held with this Mr. Allen are faithfully noted in\nthe Journal, and many and long they were. To-day conversing, to-morrow\nreading Hay and Waterland together, on the Athanasian Creed. He became\nno better, but a good deal worse, and the _finale_ was that he wrote\nto his own Bishop, Dr. Marsh, of Peterborough, to resign his living or\nhave his doubts settled. This was early in the year 1828.\n\nThis Bishop answers him thus:--\n\n  \"In reference to the doubts which you expressed in a former letter,\n  you say: 'All that I was anxious about was to avoid any just\n  imputation of dishonesty, by keeping an office and emoluments in the\n  Established Church, while I felt that I could not heartily assent to\n  her formularies.'\n\n  \"If this difficulty had occurred to you when you were a candidate\n  for Holy Orders, it would certainly have been your duty, either to\n  wait till your doubts had been removed, or, if they _could not_ be\n  removed, to choose some other profession or employment. Whoever is\n  persuaded that our Liturgy and Articles are not founded on Holy\n  Scripture cannot conscientiously subscribe to the latter, or declare\n  his assent to the former. To enter, therefore, on a profession which\n  requires such subscription and assent, with the _previous belief_\n  that such assent is not warranted by Scripture, is undoubtedly a\n  sacrifice of principle made in the expectation of future advantage.\n  But you did _not_ make such a sacrifice of principle. ... Whatever\n  doubts you _now_ entertain, they have been imbibed since you became\n  Rector of Brington; and you are apprehensive that it may be\n  considered as a mark of dishonesty, if, oppressed with these\n  difficulties, you retain your preferment.\n\n  \"I know not at present the kind or the extent of these difficulties,\n  and therefore can only reply in general terms. I have already stated\n  my opinion on the impropriety of {161} entering the Church with the\n  previous belief that our Liturgy and Articles are not founded on\n  Scripture. But if a clergyman who believed that they were so at the\n  time of his ordination, and continued that belief till after he had\n  obtained preferment in the Church, begins at some future period to\n  entertain doubts about certain parts either of the Liturgy or the\n  Articles, we have a case which presents a very different question\n  from that which was considered in the former paragraph. In the\n  former case there was a choice of professions, in the latter case\n  there is not. By the laws of this country a clergyman cannot divest\n  himself of the character acquired by the admission to Holy Orders.\n  He can hold no office in the State which is inconsistent with the\n  character of a clergyman. To relinquish preferment, therefore,\n  without being able to relinquish the character by which that\n  preferment was acquired, is quite a different question from that\n  which relates to the original assumption of that character: Nor must\n  it be forgotten that a clergyman may have a numerous family\n  altogether dependent on the income of his benefice, whom he would\n  bring therefore to utter ruin if he resigned it.\n\n  \"On the other hand, I do not think that even a clergyman so situated\n  is at liberty to substitute his _own_ doctrine for that to which he\n  objects. By so doing he would directly impugn the Articles of our\n  Church, he would make himself liable to deprivation, and would\n  justly deserve it. For he would violate a solemn contract, and\n  destroy the very tenure by which he holds his preferment.\n\n  \"But is there no medium between an open attack on our Liturgy and\n  Articles and the entertaining of doubts on certain points, which a\n  clergyman may communicate in confidence to a friend, in the hope of\n  having them removed? If, in the mean time, he is unwilling to\n  inculcate in the pulpit doctrines to which his doubts apply, he will\n  at the same time conscientiously abstain from inculcating doctrines\n  of an opposite tendency. Now, if I mistake not, this is precisely\n  your case. And happy shall I be if I can be instrumental to the\n  removal of the doubts which oppress you. I am now at leisure; the\n  engagements which I had at Cambridge {162} respecting my lectures\n  are finished; you may now fully and freely unburden your mind, and I\n  will give to all your difficulties the best consideration in my\n  power. \"I am, my dear Sir,\n\n      \"Very truly yours,\n        \"Herbert Peterborough.\"\n\nThis letter evoked a statement of the precise points, and the\nfollowing was the answer:--\n\n  \".... I now venture to approach the difficulties under which you\n  labour, and I will take them from the words you yourself have used\n  in your letter of April 30. In that letter, speaking of the Church,\n  you say, 'I cannot at this time state any paragraph in her\n  formularies and ordinances with which I cannot conscientiously\n  comply, except the Athanasian Creed.' You then proceed in the\n  following words: 'and now I must go on to state wherein I differ\n  from this Creed: not in the parts which may be called doctrinal;\n  that is, where the doctrine itself is stated and explained.' And you\n  conclude by saying, 'the parts of the Creed to which I object are\n  the condemning clauses.' And you object to the clauses on the\n  grounds that they are not warranted by the declaration of our\n  Saviour recorded in Mark xvi. 16, on which passage those clauses are\n  generally supposed to have been founded. Whether they are so\n  warranted or not depends on the extent of their application in this\n  Creed, which begins with the following words:--'Whosoever will be\n  saved, before all things, it is necessary that he hold the Catholic\n  faith, which faith, except every one do keep whole and undefiled\n  (entire and unviolated, Cath. trans.), without doubt he shall perish\n  everlastingly. Now the Catholic faith is this, that we worship one\n  God in Trinity, and Trinity in Unity.' So far, then, it is evident\n  that they only are declared to be excluded from salvation who do not\n  hold the Catholic faith, that is, as the term is there explicitly\n  defined, who do not hold the doctrine of the Trinity in Unity. Now\n  this doctrine has been maintained, with very few exceptions, by\n  Christians in general from the earliest to the present age. It was\n  the doctrine of the Greek Church {163} ...... and all the Reformed\n  churches. To exclude from salvation, therefore, only those who\n  reject a doctrine which is received by Christians in general, is a\n  very different thing from the denial of salvation to every one who\n  does not believe in all the tenets of a particular Church. The\n  doctrine, _nulla salus nisi credas in Trinitatem_, bears no\n  resemblance to the sweeping declaration _nulla salus extra Ecclesiam\n  Romonam_. Surely, then, we may appeal to Mark xvi. 16, combined with\n  Matthew xxviii. 19, in order to prove that a belief in the Trinity\n  is necessary to salvation, and consequently to prove that those two\n  passages warrant the deduction, that they who reject the doctrine of\n  the Trinity will not be saved. The two passages must be taken\n  together, in order to learn the whole of our Saviour's last command\n  to his Apostles. If, then, our Saviour himself commanded his\n  Apostles to baptize 'in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and\n  of the Holy Ghost,' and then added, 'he that believeth and is\n  baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned;'\n  it really does appear that our Saviour himself has warranted the\n  opinion that a belief in the doctrine of the Trinity is such a\n  fundamental article of the Christian faith that they who reject it\n  do so at their own peril.\n\n  \"But you think that the anathema of our Saviour in Mark xvi. 16, had\n  a different application from the corresponding anathema in the\n  Athanasian Creed. Our Saviour spoke of those to whom the Gospel had\n  been preached, as appears from Mark xvi. 15. And if the anathema in\n  the Athanasian Creed had a more extensive application, or if it were\n  meant to include not only those who wilfully rejected the doctrine\n  of the Trinity when it had been duly explained to them, but those\n  also to whom the doctrine had never been preached, and whose want of\n  belief arose merely from a want of knowledge, I should likewise\n  admit that the anathema of the Athanasian Creed derived no authority\n  from Mark xvi. 16. But I see no reason whatever for the opinion that\n  the anathema of the Athanasian Creed includes those who have never\n  heard of the doctrine. Neither the Creed itself, nor the\n  circumstances under which it was {164} composed, warrant such an\n  opinion. Whoever was the author of it, the Creed was framed during\n  the controversy which then distracted the whole of the Christian\n  Church. It applied, therefore, immediately and exclusively to those\n  who were partakers in or acquainted with the controversy. It could\n  not have been originally intended to apply to those who had never\n  heard of the controversy or the doctrine controverted. It would be,\n  therefore, quite uncritical to apply it at present in a way which\n  was not originally intended. Nor does the language of the Creed\n  itself warrant any other application. When it is declared necessary\n  to _hold_ the Catholic faith, and to _keep_ the Catholic faith, that\n  necessity can apply only to those to whom the Catholic faith has\n  been _presented_. Unless a man is previously put in possession of a\n  thing, he cannot be said either to _hold_ it or to _keep_ it.\n\n  \"Surely the most conscientious clergyman who believes in our\n  Saviour's declaration, recorded in Mark xvi. 16, may read without\n  scruple the similar declaration in the Athanasian Creed. And if, on\n  the authority of our Saviour, he may read the anathema in the\n  beginning of the Creed, he may, without scruple, read the less\n  strongly expressed anathema in the end.\n\n  \"In the hope that, after reading this letter, your mind will become\n  at ease, I subscribe myself, dear Sir,\n\n    \"Very truly yours,\n      \"Herbert Peterborough.\"\n\nThis letter is a tolerable specimen of the Bishop's power of\nreasoning, and very sharp it is too; but it does not exactly meet Mr.\nSpencer's difficulties. He might object:--\"What passage of Scripture\nwarrants our uniting together the two passages from St. Mark and St.\nMatthew?\" And \"being _presented with_ a thing is not exactly the same\nas _being in possession of_ a thing.\" \"We should have the same warrant\nfor the remaining clauses of the Creed as for the first three,\notherwise, according to the Articles, we are not bound to receive\nthem; then why not erase them?' The Bishop would have no resource\nhere, except to fall back {165} upon the Church, and that was not the\npoint at issue; so perhaps he did well not to try. He uses tradition,\nand Dr. Blomfield authority; but these could have no weight against a\nBible Christian, as Mr. Spencer was then.\n\nA Catholic could very easily solve the difficulty. The Church has used\nthese terms to express her doctrine, and she says this is the revealed\ndoctrine; therefore it must be. No one can be saved who does not\nbelieve the Trinity and Incarnation, implicitly or explicitly; those\nto whom it has never been properly proposed, implicitly, and those to\nwhom it has, explicitly. Some theologians will have explicit credence\nrequired of both classes, and say that God would even send an angel to\na savage, if he placed no obstacle, and reveal this mystery to him\nrather than that he should die without it. And now it will seem very\nstrange to say that this doctrine is less terrible than the Protestant\nopen-arm theory. Yet, so it is, for we allow many Socinians and\nignorant Protestants and others to be in good faith, and perhaps never\nhave had this doctrine properly proposed to them. We suspend our\njudgments with regard to them, and say if they live well they may be\nsaved. That is more than the Bishop of Peterborough could allow,\naccording to his principles.\n\n{166}\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nIncidents And State Of Mind In 1827-28.\n\n\nHis life, though perpetually floating on religious discussions and\ndoctrinal scruples, found other matters to check its course and employ\nit otherwise for a few days more. The family were all in a great glow\nof delight towards the close of the year 1827, in consequence of the\nHonourable Frederick Spencer, who was commander of the _Talbot_\nman-of-war, having distinguished himself at the battle of Navarino.\nGeorge, of course, was overjoyed; here was his brother, who pored over\nthe same lesson, played at the same games, and contended about the\nsame trifles as himself, crowned with laurels and in the flush of\nvictory. George loved him dearly, and these well-earned honours\nimparted a season of sunshine to the clergyman, which all his gospel\nfervour had failed to do up to this. Lord Spencer alludes to it in the\ntouching letter given in a former chapter; but like everything human,\nthis rose had its thorns. After the letters announcing the startling\ndetermination which called forth the efforts of ecclesiastical\nlearning quoted in the last chapter, a great dulness fell over the\nfamily circle. Mr. Allen did not clear the atmosphere, and Mr. Spencer\ntells us feelingly in his Journal that his mother did not exchange one\ncordial sentence with him during the whole term of her Christmas stay\nat Althorp. This he felt, but bore in the spirit of a martyr; it was\ninflicted upon him for what he thought right before God, and he tried\nto make the best of it, wishing, but unable, to change the aspect of\nthings. The Bishop of Peterborough's letter had the effect of quieting\nhim for some time, in so far as he did not feel himself called {167}\nupon to preach against what he did not assent to, but was content with\nletting it remain in abeyance.\n\nThe old way of settling him is again revived. During the last week of\nFebruary, 1828, he notices three or four long conversations about\nmatrimony; he takes the subject into consideration, and reads the\nEpistles to St. Timothy for light: but he is not convinced, and\ncontinues in his determination. He might foresee the settlement of\nideas that would result from this step, if he considered the trouble\nof setting his money affairs in order, which forced itself upon him\nnow. He says: \"I was employed almost all day till three o'clock in\nputting my papers to rights. I feel that I have been careless in all\nmatters of business, and this is wrong; for it leads me to be\nchargeable and dependent on others, and that a minister especially\nmust guard himself against. It greatly shortens my powers of\nliberality, and it makes men despise me. On all these accounts I trust\nI shall overcome the evil, and be a good man of business.\" He is as\ngood as his word. He sends a full and clear account of his affairs to\nhis father, and his lordship makes an arrangement that places his son\nin independence, whilst he is able at the same time to get clear of\nall difficulties and debts incurred by his building.\n\nTo turn to his spiritual progress. He is not a whit nearer Catholic\nfaith now than he was when he returned from Italy, except that the\ntime is shorter. On June 29 he says: \"It was St. Peter's day, and I\npreached on the pretensions of the Pope.\" He also holdeth a tea-party\nin the true Evangelical style, and says: \"To-day the candle of the\nLord burnt brightly within me.\" He buys a mare about this time, which\ndoes not seem to be as amenable as her master would wish, and he says\nthereupon: \"This mare disappoints me rather, and puts to shame my\nboasting of God's blessing in buying her. Yet I shall not be ashamed\nof my faith some day or other.\" It was usual with him at this time,\nwhen he had a servant to choose, a journey to take, or anything\nspecial to get through, \"to seek the Lord in prayer therefor,\" and\nproceed according to the inspirations he might get at the moment.\nBishop Blomfield scolds him {168} heartily about this, and shows him\nthe folly of using one faculty for a thing which God has given him\nanother for, and proceeding in his ordinary actions without the\nordinary means placed in his way. This was, of course, a delusion of\nhis; but two or three disappointments convinced him of its being akin\nto tempting God.\n\nHe accompanies Dr. Blomfield in his visitation this year also, and he\ngets very severely handled by him on the score of his religious views,\nin the presence also of two other clergymen. The lecture turned\nchiefly upon the inculcation of humility, and the subduing of that\nspiritual pride which the Bishop noticed in a former communication. A\nfew days after this lecture, which sank deeply into Mr. Spencer's\nmind, as a whole company were seated at dinner with the Bishop, a\nletter arrived from the Duke of Wellington, announcing the translation\nof Dr. Blomfield from Chester to London. This was July 25, 1828. His\nreflections upon this news are: \"God be praised;\" and the next day he\nsays: \"I wrote a sermon for to-morrow, and spent much time in prayer\nfor a quiet mind and superiority to the snares of ambition. It was a\nmost boisterous day, almost continual thunder and pouring rain. I\nfound fault with a good deal said by the Bishop in regard to his\npromotion, but I pray that I may judge myself and not others.\"\n\nHe now relaxes a little in his Puritanism; he gives dinners, invites\nguests, and notes that he has to pray against being too particular\nwith regard to his guests. A pretty large company dine at the rectory.\nThis is an essay in parties, and ladies are invited for the first time\nsince he commenced housekeeping. He had the ominous number of thirteen\nat table, and it could not pass off without some mishap or other.\nContrary to old wives' rules, the servant was the unfortunate one. We\nwill let himself tell the story. \"Mrs. Nicholls was in great misery\nabout breaking the dish, which made her send up the haunch of venison\nupside down. I have cause to be thankful for this, as the means by\nwhich God will humble her. The evening passed off well, and thank God\nI was not careful or shy.\"\n\nHe comes across a Baptist minister, who so far outdid {169} him in the\nMethodistic way of talking, that he writes: \"I consider him a very bad\nspecimen of cant.\" After this, his outlandish gospelling comments upon\ntrifles and iotas begin to disappear. He becomes more rational, gets\ninto the ways of the world, reads newspapers, and is a very sensible\nkind of man altogether. He notes in his Journal, here and there, that\nhe carries his own bundle, and works a part of the day at manual\nlabour in his garden. He also remarks that, the coldest day he ever\nremembered, he went out without gloves or great-coat, and was unable\nfrom numbness to write his sermon when he came home. He goes on the\ncoach next day in the same trim, and says he wants \"to give an example\nto the poor,\" and that \"God preserved him from catching cold.\" Very\nlikely he had given the great-coat to some poor man the day before.\nAfter a few complaints of quarrels among the clergy, and the manner in\nwhich he has been treated by his family for the last three years on\naccount of his religious scruples, he concludes the year 1828 with the\nfollowing reflection:--\"I now look back to this time a year ago, and\nobserve what I felt and wrote then, that God only knows where I should\nbe at present. Wondrously am I now placed still where I was, and in\nall respects more firmly settled. Yet only confirmed in my\ndisagreement with the powers of the Church; but they have not been\nwilling to attend to me, and so when my thoughts become known, they\nwill be more sound and influential. What I now pray is, that I may be\nled to a state of heart above the world, and may live the rest of my\ntime always longing for the presence of Christ, which I shall one day\nsee. While I abide in the flesh, may it be to no purpose but the good\nof God's flock, and may I be led to suffer and to do many and great\nthings for His sake.\"\n\nAt this time he extends his correspondence to Mr. Irving, the founder\nof the Irvingites, and is so struck by what that gentleman says on the\nsecond coming of our Lord, that he begins to prepare himself for it.\nHe never let us know how far he went on in this preparation.\n\nSo far is he now, February 1829, from Catholicity in his opinions,\nthat his father thinks it necessary to rebuke him {170} for the\nviolence of a sermon he preached on the Catholic question; against\nthem, of course, for his father was always a stanch advocate of\nEmancipation. Little he knew that on that day twelve months he would\nbe a Catholic himself.\n\nIt is recorded in the Journal here, that thieves broke into the\nparsonage one night. Mr. Spencer heard them; he arose, called a\nservant or two, pursued the delinquents, and captured them. This feat\ntells rather in favour of his bravery, and might qualify the opinion\nhe had of himself on this point.\n\nWe shall give the result of the Creed question in his own words, as\ngiven in the account of his conversion:--\n\n  \"My scruples [about the Athanasian Creed] returned after a sermon\n  which I preached on Trinity Sunday, 1827, in defence of that very\n  Creed. I observed that the arguments by which I defended the\n  doctrine of the Trinity itself were indeed founded on Scripture, but\n  in attempting to prove to my hearers that a belief of this doctrine\n  was absolutely necessary for man's salvation, I had recourse to\n  arguments independent of Scripture, and that no passage in Scripture\n  could be found which declares that whosoever will be saved must hold\n  the orthodox faith on the Trinity. I had this difficulty on my mind\n  for eight or nine months, after which, finding that I could not\n  satisfy myself upon it, I gave notice to my superiors that I could\n  not conscientiously declare my full assent to the Thirty-nine\n  Articles. They attempted at first to satisfy me by arguments; but\n  the more I discussed the subject the more convinced I became that\n  the Article in question was not defensible, and after fifteen\n  months' further pause, I made up my mind to leave off reading the\n  Creed in the service of my Church, and informed my Bishop of my\n  final resolution. Of course, he might have taken measures to oblige\n  me to resign my benefice, but he thought it more prudent to take no\n  notice of my letter; and thus I remained in possession of my place\n  till I embraced the Catholic faith.\n\n  \"The point on which I thus found myself opposed to the Church of\n  England appears a trifling one; but here was enough to hinder all my\n  prospects of advancement, and to {171} put it in the power of the\n  Bishop, if at any time he had chosen to do so, to call on me to give\n  up my benefice. It is easy to conceive that under these\n  circumstances my mind was set free, beyond what could be imagined in\n  any other way, to follow without prejudice my researches after\n  truth. I lost no opportunity of discoursing with ministers of all\n  persuasions. I called upon them all to join with me in the inquiry\n  where was the truth, which could be but one, and therefore could not\n  be in any two contrary systems of religion, much less in all the\n  variety of sects into which Christians are divided in England. I\n  found little encouragement in any quarter to this way of proceeding,\n  at least among Protestants. Those sectarians of a contrary\n  persuasion to myself, to whom I proposed an inquiry with me after\n  truth, I found generally ready to speak with me; but they did not\n  even pretend to have any disposition to examine the grounds of their\n  own principles, which they were determined to abide by without\n  further hesitation. My brethren of the Established Church equally\n  declined joining me in my discussions with persons of other\n  persuasions, and disapproved of my pursuit, saying that I should\n  never convert them to our side, and that I only ran the risk of\n  being shaken myself. Their objections only incited me to greater\n  diligence. I considered that if what I held were truth, charity\n  required that I should never give over my attempts to bring others\n  into the same way, though I were to labour all my life in vain. If,\n  on the contrary, I was in any degree of error, the sooner I was\n  shaken the better. I was convinced, by the numberless exhortations\n  of St. Paul to his disciples, that they should be of one mind and\n  have no divisions; that the object which I had before me, that is,\n  the reunion of the differing bodies of Christians, was pleasing to\n  God; and I had full confidence that I was in no danger of being led\n  into error, or suffering any harm in following it up, as long as I\n  studied nothing but to do the will of God in it, and trusted to His\n  Holy Spirit to direct me.\n\n  \"The result of all these discussions with different sects of\n  Protestants was a conviction that no one of us had a correct view of\n  Christianity. We all appeared right thus far, in {172} acknowledging\n  Christ as the Son of God, whose doctrines and commandments we were\n  to follow as the way to happiness both in time and eternity; but it\n  seemed as if the form of doctrine and discipline established by the\n  Apostles had been lost sight of all through the Church. I wished,\n  therefore, to see Christians in general united in the resolution to\n  find the way of truth and peace, convinced that God would not fail\n  to point it out to them. Whether or not others would seek His\n  blessing with me, I had great confidence that, before long, God\n  would clear up my doubts, and therefore my mind was not made uneasy\n  by them. I must here notice a conversation I had with a Protestant\n  minister about a year before I was a Catholic, by which my views of\n  the use of the Scriptures were much enlightened, and by which, as it\n  will be clearly seen, I was yet farther prepared to come to a right\n  understanding of the true rule of Christian faith proposed by the\n  Catholic Church. This gentleman was a zealous defender of the\n  authority of the Church of England against the various sects of\n  Protestant Dissenters, who have of late years gained so much\n  advantage against her. He perceived that while men were allowed to\n  claim a right of interpreting the Scriptures according to their own\n  judgment there never could be an end of schism; and, therefore, he\n  zealously insisted on the duty of our submitting to ecclesiastical\n  authority in controversies of faith, maintaining that the Spirit of\n  God spoke to us through the voice of the Church, as well as in the\n  written word. Had I been convinced by this part of his argument, it\n  would have led me to submit to the Catholic Church, and not to the\n  Church of England; and, indeed, I am acquainted with one young man,\n  who actually became a Catholic through the preaching of this\n  gentleman--following these true principles, as he was bound to do,\n  to their legitimate consequences. But I did not, at this time,\n  perceive the truth of the position; I yet had no idea of the\n  existence of Divine, unwritten Tradition in the Church. I could\n  imagine no way for the discovery of the truth but persevering study\n  of the Scriptures, which, as they were the only Divine rule of faith\n  with which I was acquainted, I thought must of course be sufficient\n  for our {173} guidance, if used with an humble and tractable spirit;\n  but the discourse of this clergyman led me at least to make an\n  observation which had never struck my mind before as being of any\n  importance,--namely, that the system of religion which Christ taught\n  the Apostles, and which they delivered to the Church, was something\n  distinct from our volume of Scriptures. The New Testament I\n  perceived to be a collection of accidental writings, which, as\n  coming from the pens of inspired men, I was assured must, in every\n  point, be agreeable to the true faith; but they neither were, nor\n  anywhere professed to be, a complete and systematic account of\n  Christian faith and practice. I was, therefore, in want of some\n  further guidance on which I could depend. I knew not that it was in\n  the Catholic Church that I was at length to find what I was in\n  search of; but every Catholic will see, if I have sufficiently\n  explained my case, how well I was prepared to accept with joy the\n  direction of the Catholic Church, when once I should be convinced\n  that she still preserved unchanged and inviolate the very form of\n  faith taught by the Apostles, the knowledge of which is, as it were,\n  the key to the right and sure interpretation of the written word.\"\n\nIt was in April, 1829, that he wrote the letter to the Bishop which\nwas not taken notice of. He next withdrew his name from some\nsocieties--such as the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, &c.\nThis act so displeased Dr. Blomfield, that he writes to say Mr.\nSpencer is no longer his chaplain. At the suggestion of some member of\nhis family, he wrote an apology, and was restored again to favour and\nto his office. On May 22, 1829, the Journal suddenly breaks off, and\nhe did not resume it again until the 1st of May, 1846. The events of\nthe seventeen years intervening can be gathered from his\ncorrespondence, though, perhaps, not with the precision that would be\ndesirable.\n\n{174}\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nThe Maid Of Lille.\n\n\nIncidents overlapped each other so thickly, and were of such different\ntendencies during the last two years of Mr. Spencer's life as a\nminister, that we have judged it better to give them singly, even at\nthe expense of a little sacrifice of the order of time. One of these,\nand an important one, is selected for the subject of this chapter. On\nthe 23rd of November, 1827, just before his Athanasian scruples had\nrisen to their height, as he returned from his pastoral visitation, he\nfound a letter, purporting to be from a gentleman in Lille, \"who was\ngrievously troubled about the arguments for Popery.\" This letter\ncontains little more than a statement of tendencies towards\nCatholicity in the writer, with extracts from Papin, _De la Tol\u00e9rance\ndes Protestants_, to account for them. The extracts draw a parallel\nbetween the Church and a well-regulated kingdom, in many of her\ndoctrines and chief points of her discipline. It was anonymous, and\nreasons were assigned for withholding the writer's name. Mr. Spencer,\never anxious to counsel the doubtful, lost no time in answering, and\nsent off a long letter to his unknown friend by that evening's post.\nIt was shortly after this that he wrote the letters to his father and\nDr. Blomfield about the resignation of his preferment, and whether the\nLille letter had anything to do with increasing his doubts, or not, is\na question. It had, however, one effect: it made him anxious to find\nout what kind of people Catholics were; and an incident that occurred\nabout the same time aided this curiosity. There were some soldiers\nquartered in Northampton, and, as Mr. Spencer was talking to some of\nthe officers in the court-yard of the barracks, the {175} Catholic\npriest entered, to look after such of the soldiers as might require\nhis spiritual care. He saw the priest, and spoke to him; and, finding\nout the object of his mission, kindly introduced him to one of the\nofficers, who, in consideration of Mr. Spencer, got all due attention\npaid to the priest; and the good parson was assured that he succeeded\nto his satisfaction before he left the place. A few days afterwards he\nmet the priest, who thanked him for his charity, and said it was\nProvidence sent him there at such a time, and arranged that his duty\ncould be discharged among the soldiers with ease and honour, which had\noften-times to be done amid insults, or at least coldness on the part\nof the military authorities. Mr. Spencer began to think, \"Really these\nPapists believe in Providence!\" This wonderful discovery made him\nthink they believed a little more also, and that they were not quite\nsuch idolaters as he had been taught to suppose. Another letter from\nthe Lille correspondent confirmed him in this, and shook him in many\nof his older notions. He dines, in a few days after this despatch,\nwith the celebrated Dr. Fletcher and a Miss Armytage, at Lady\nThrockmorton's. He has a long conversation with the last of the Douay\ncontroversialists after dinner; but the only effect produced is this:\n\"I am thankful for the kindness of both those Papists. The Lord reward\nthem by showing them His truth.\" He invites Dr. Fletcher to dinner at\nBrington--a favour the Doctor avails himself of on the 27th March,\n1828. Another letter from his friend at Lille makes him acknowledge\nthat he has not had proper notions of Catholicity; in his own words:\n\"I expected easily to convince him that the Catholic Church was full\nof errors; but he answered my arguments. ....  I discovered by means\nof this correspondence that I had never duly considered the principles\nof our Reformation; that my objections to the Catholic Church were\nprejudices adopted from the sayings of others, not the result of my\nown observation. Instead of gaming the advantage in this controversy,\nI saw, and I owned to my correspondent, that a great change had been\nproduced in myself. I no longer desired to persuade him to keep in the\ncommunion of the Protestant Church, {176} but rather determined and\npromised to follow up the same inquiries with him, if he would make\nhis name known to me, and only pause awhile before he joined the\nCatholics. But I heard no more of him till after my conversion and\narrival at Rome, when I discovered that my correspondent was a lady,\nwho had herself been converted a short time before she wrote to me. I\nnever heard her name before, [Footnote 7] nor am I aware that she had\never seen my person; but God moved her to desire and pray for my\nsalvation, which she also undertook to bring about in the way I have\nrelated. I cannot say that I entirely approve of the stratagem to\nwhich she had recourse, but her motive was good, and God gave success\nto her attempt: for it was this which first directed my attention\nparticularly to inquire about the Catholic religion, though she lived\nnot to know the accomplishment of her wishes and prayers. She died at\nParis, a year before my conversion, when about to take the veil as a\nnun of the Sacred Heart; and I trust I have in her an intercessor in\nHeaven, as she prayed for me so fervently on earth.\"\n\n    [Footnote 7: The lady's name was Miss Dolling.]\n\nThis was the last of F. Ignatius's romances, and a beautiful one it\nwas. As it may be interesting to see what was in those famous letters,\nwe think it well to give a few extracts:--\n\n  The line of the lady's argument is this. That Scripture without\n  Tradition is quite insufficient for salvation. We cannot know\n  anything about the Scriptures themselves, their composition,\n  inspiration, interpretation, without Tradition. Besides the New\n  Testament was not the text-book of the Apostles--it is a collection\n  of some things they were inspired to write for the edification of\n  the first Christians and others who had not seen our Lord; and the\n  Epistles are a number of letters from inspired men bound up together\n  in one volume. The body of doctrine, with its bearings, symmetry,\n  extent, and obligation, was delivered orally by the Apostles, and\n  the Epistles must be consonant to that system as well as explanatory\n  of portions of it. Only by the unbroken succession of pastors from\n  the Apostles to the present time, can we have any safeguard as {177}\n  to what we are to believe, and how we are to believe. The Apostles\n  and their successors were \"to teach all nations,\" and Christ\n  promised them and them alone the unerring guidance of the Holy\n  Spirit. She then assigns to tradition the office of bearing\n  testimony to what the doctrines of the Church have been, and are at\n  present. The definitions of Councils are simple declarations that\n  such and such is the belief then and from the beginning of the\n  Catholic Church. They state what is, not invent what is to be. Now\n  history, or written tradition, as contra-distinguished from\n  Scripture, testifies to every single tenet of the Catholic\n  Church--her creeds, liturgy, sacraments, jurisdiction. It testifies\n  unerringly, too, even from the objections of heretics, to the fact\n  that this Church has been always believed divine in her origin,\n  divine in her teaching, infallible and unerring in her solemn\n  pronouncements. This is fact, and who can gainsay it?\n\nThis peculiar way of arguing, by making tradition or history bear\nwitness to the existence of the Church, as well as to what she always\ndeclared to be her doctrine, is a very felicitous shape to cast her\narguments into. It draws the line between faith and the evidence of\nfaith. Evidence, human evidence of the first grade of moral certainty,\nsays: The Church believed this, and that, and the other, at such and\nsuch times, and not as a new, but as an old doctrine, that came down\nfrom age to age since the Apostles. The same evidence says: that she\nbelieved them as revealed by God, and that she could not be mistaken\non account of His promise. That she never swerved, and never will\nswerve, from one single article which she has once believed. If this\nChurch be not _The Church_ of Christ, I ask you where is it to be\nfound?\n\nIn the second letter she says:\n\n  \"After much reflection I must confess to you their system appears\n  reasonable, natural, and convincing. With us, they consider the Holy\n  Scriptures as the most respectable testimony of our faith, and they\n  profess a strict adherence to them; they have for them the greatest\n  respect; and the Catholic priests support from the Bible what they\n  {178} teach the people, and I am certain that they study and\n  understand the Scriptures as much as our ministers. The principal\n  difference I remark is, that they do not undertake to interpret them\n  according to their own opinions: they say that the inspired writings\n  are replete with mysteries, which the eye of man cannot penetrate;\n  and that He alone who gave them is able to comprehend their\n  sublimity; consequently, to follow the impulse of reason in\n  explaining them, would be incurring the danger of falling into\n  error, and leading others into the same path. For this cause the\n  Catholic minister will not suffer the Holy Scriptures to be\n  separated from the instruction of their predecessors up to the\n  Apostles; not that they by any means give the word of man precedence\n  to the Word of God, since they believe that man alone cannot explain\n  it, for 'who,' they ask, 'assisted at the council of the Almighty?'\n  But they believe that those who heard the Apostles preach,\n  understood the true meaning of their words; and that their immediate\n  successors, _especially_, educated by them, and who taught the\n  Gospel during the life of their instructors, necessarily understood\n  the meaning of their writings, the doctrine of which was undoubtedly\n  conformable to what they taught verbally. ....\"\n\n  \"St. Paul, in his Epistles to the Colossians, informs us that the\n  Gospel was preached to all the world. This being the case, I see no\n  possibility of introducing any new doctrine. The Apostles threatened\n  with eternal punishment those who did not believe what they taught\n  in the name of Jesus Christ. And whoever would have the temerity to\n  add to the primitive doctrine they visited with a like anathema.\n  Tell me, now, how could the Church have introduced such a doctrine\n  as that of the Real Presence, after a priest has pronounced the\n  words, \"This is my body\"? How is it possible that the faithful could\n  reconcile themselves to the idea of acknowledging and adoring Jesus\n  Christ present on the altar, as He was in the manger at Bethlehem,\n  and as He is in Heaven at the right hand of His Father, if this\n  doctrine had not always been received and believed as it is at\n  present by the Roman Catholic Church? {179} Christians who knew the\n  value of salvation could not so easily be deceived; several among\n  them would have remonstrated against this superstition and idolatry.\n  Do we find that they have done so?\"\n\n  \"I imagine myself in idea at the period of the Reformation, and\n  consider the belief and customs of that time. All Europe, the\n  provinces of Asia and Africa which had not embraced Mahomedanism,\n  admitted and believed the contrary to what Calvin taught, especially\n  concerning the Lord's Supper. I should be glad to hear your\n  impartial opinion on this subject. Where did Calvin find this\n  doctrine? As I observe, he did not learn it in the schools, nor in\n  any book, nor in his own family, nor in the temple of God; the\n  innovation was universally opposed; a million voices remonstrated\n  against his impiety. What right had he to be believed? He proposed\n  only the interpretation which _he_ gave to the words of Jesus\n  Christ, _This is my body_. He supported his opinion in no other way,\n  he proved it by no miracles, and therefore did not deserve belief,\n  since he gave no proofs of a divine mission. He was but a man, and,\n  what is more, one of whom historians do not speak as being virtuous.\n  Tell me, then, how can I acknowledge that he possessed the Holy\n  Spirit, knew the meaning of Scripture. .... listen to and follow a\n  young man in his opinion and oppose the rest of the world. Could\n  that be wisdom?\n\n  \"But supposing, my dear sir, the Church to be in error, or even\n  liable to err, how can we possibly profess to believe any mystery?\n  For to have faith, it is impossible to doubt or hesitate. And if I\n  believe not, I am lost. I am already condemned. 'He that believeth\n  not is already judged.' If the Church be liable to error, may I not\n  reply to our ministers:--'I doubt the truth of what you preach: I am\n  not obliged to believe you'? You tell me I am not obliged to believe\n  what _you_ so charitably wrote to me, and many passages of which\n  letter have sensibly affected me: to whom, then, must I have\n  recourse? You give me reason to conclude that you are not certain of\n  the assistance of the Holy Ghost, as you do not oblige me to believe\n  what you {180} say, but you desire me to compare your words with the\n  Scriptures, and to reject them if I don't find them conformable to\n  the Word of God. How can I imagine myself more certain than you that\n  I rightly interpret them, or that I have the assistance of Heaven? I\n  must continue to doubt during the rest of my life, and remain an\n  unbeliever.\n\n  \"You say, 'if a man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine\n  whether it be of God.' To do the will of God is certainly to listen\n  to those God has sent to teach us. ....\n\nShe quotes several authorities bearing witness in their day that the\nsupremacy of the Pope was then believed to be of divine right, and\ncloses the list with Sir Thomas More.\n\n  \"By the grace of God I have always professed the Catholic religion.\n  Having, however, often heard the power of the Pope was of human\n  institution, I resolved to weigh the matter without, at the same\n  time, injuring my faith. For seven years I followed up this study: I\n  drank at the fountain head: I went to the origin of things. At\n  length I found that the pontifical power is not only useful and\n  necessary--but, strictly lawful and of divine appointment. ...\"\n\n  \"I cannot admit the system of _particular_ inspiration, since I see\n  many, pretending to be inspired, fall into manifest contradictions,\n  and consequently into error. .... I admit with you that divine\n  authority must fix the faith of men. Where am I to find it? It must\n  exist somewhere. ....\"\n\nThe third letter is partly a continuation of the second, and partly on\na new plan; so a few extracts from it must be welcome, especially as\nit really did such work upon poor Mr. Spencer's mind.\n\n  .... \"It is certain that Jesus Christ founded a Church upon earth\n  for the salvation of man; where, then, is it? This is certainly the\n  whole question among the different sects opposed to each other. ....\n  I must necessarily enter the true Church, for I cannot be saved in\n  that which is false. ....\n\n  .... \"I am persuaded the Catholics do not found their belief on the\n  opinions and interpretations of men; {181} their authority is Jesus\n  Christ, God Himself; certainly that must be infallible, and the\n  reason of man ought to bend to it. They believe in such and such\n  doctrines because Jesus Christ and His Apostles taught them; this is\n  the simple and reasonable motive of their faith. The doctrine of\n  Jesus' and His Apostles is not an opinion, but a fact, which I see\n  so completely proved by an assemblage of facts and circumstances so\n  striking, that, not to be convinced of its truth, would be to\n  renounce all common sense. .... The fact that the Catholic Church is\n  in possession of the true doctrine is a fact proved like all other\n  historical facts; it is proved by a weight of testimony given by\n  persons who saw and heard themselves. Observe, it is not the\n  opinions or interpretations given by those persons which are\n  advanced as proofs, as you suppose in your letter; but all these\n  holy persons have shed their blood to support and defend the truth,\n  not of their opinions, but of what they have seen or heard. I can\n  understand that fanaticism would induce a man to sacrifice his life\n  to support a favourite opinion, but it has never yet been seen that\n  any one would lose his life to prove that he had seen or heard\n  things which he, in fact, had not. Tradition is not, therefore, as\n  you suppose, the opinions and interpretations of the Fathers, but\n  their testimony to what they saw, heard, taught, and practised. In\n  the same way, the general Councils have fixed the sense of Scripture\n  only by declaring the fact that such has been the universal doctrine\n  since the Apostles. It is the assemblage of these proofs that brings\n  conviction to the soul; they must all be seen united and compared,\n  and this is undoubtedly a laborious study.\n\n  \"The Catholics believe that their Church is in possession of the\n  doctrine taught by Christ, and listen to it as they would to Him.\n  Judge from this how strong and lively must be the faith of a\n  Catholic, how firm and immovable, since the voice of their Church is\n  the voice of their Saviour, and the interval of eighteen hundred\n  years disappears as they every day hear the voice of Jesus. There\n  cannot be any division in this Church. It being an historical fact\n  that the same doctrine has been taught from the beginning by the\n  {182} infallible mouth of Jesus Christ and His Apostles, it follows\n  that _all_ must yield to that authority, and that the rash\n  individual who would dispute, disputes as it were with Jesus Christ,\n  and consequently ought to be driven from the flock. ....\n\n  \"The Catholics say:--_without the Scriptures we should not hear the\n  Saviour speak, but without tradition we should not know what He\n  says_. ....\n\n  \"Why are not _our_ eyes opened--having every day proof that private\n  interpretation is at fault?--let us try. Take your Bible, and read\n  whatever passage you please; I also will read it. Let us both, then,\n  invoke the assistance of God, and do you candidly think our\n  inspirations would agree as to the sense of the passage? I think\n  not. However, should we differ, who is to decide which is in error?\n\n  ....\n\n  \"I see by your letters you have not always had the same opinion on\n  all points that you have at this time. ... What warrant have you\n  that you are better inspired now than before? Inspiration does not\n  cause change of opinion.\n\n  ....\n\n  \"We have in our country written laws of ancient date. Suppose some\n  persons, even of great learning, were to give them a different\n  interpretation to that hitherto received, would not they be\n  confounded by showing them, by means of history or tradition, that\n  the King himself who made these laws, his ministers and successors,\n  have always understood and executed them in a different sense. That\n  is the way Catholics avoid all difficulty. ....\n\n  \"You are in error as to the Pope if you suppose that formerly, or\n  now, Catholics give him their faith, as Calvinists do to Calvin, &c.\n  I thought the same. The Pope is simply the chief administrator; the\n  doctrines he has the stewardship of do not come from him or any\n  other Pope, as that of Calvinism from Calvin; it comes from Jesus\n  Christ, from His Apostles, and from their churches throughout the\n  world. An administrator is not the master of the doctrines with\n  which he is entrusted. The Pope and Bishops are charged to preserve\n  the doctrine, to propagate it and {183} defend it against all\n  attacks of the enemies of Jesus Christ.\n\n  ....\n\n  \"You interpret the text, 'lo! I am with you _always_,' that God\n  promised His Holy Spirit to every individual; but that I am inclined\n  by no means to admit. The whole of the passage must be considered.\n  It was not to every one He addressed these words; it was only to His\n  Apostles that He said, 'Go and teach all nations .... behold, I am\n  with you.' From this it is clearly to the Apostles and their\n  successors that He promised the Holy Spirit. I see in these words\n  that they received from God himself the formal order or mission to\n  go and preach, not what they found written, but what He had taught.\n  .... I see also by these words that sovereigns of this world have\n  not received the power of sending ministers to teach the Gospel, and\n  certainly by so doing they usurp the power given to the Apostles and\n  their successors. What we have to find is, to whom God has said, 'Go\n  and teach.' It is physically impossible that it should concern our\n  ministers, since they are established by temporal authority.\"\n\nAbout the Reformers she says:--\n\n  \"Can man reform the work of his Creator?\"\n\n  \"You say you will never claim any name but that of Christian, but\n  still it is not with you a matter of indifference what communion you\n  belong to; therefore, this being the case, it is not sufficient to\n  bear the name of Christian, and say we trust in Jesus; we must be\n  sure that the doctrines we adopt are really his. For it is not being\n  a Christian to embrace doctrines contrary to those given by our\n  Saviour; it is assuming the name of Christian without being certain\n  we are so; we must find if we are in communion with His Church.\n  Without faith there is no salvation; this cannot mean a faith of our\n  own choosing, but what God has been pleased to command we should\n  believe. ....\n\n  \"Many of our ministers are ignorant or wicked enough to accuse\n  Catholics of idolatry. It is Jesus Christ they adore really present\n  though invisible in the Eucharist. They very loudly exclaim among us\n  against images, &c. All this is nothing; on all sides that Church\n  presents images to {184} render their faith more lively, and to\n  induce them thereby to adore God the more truly in spirit and in\n  truth.\"\n\nThese are arguments of no little strength, to say the least of them.\nIt would be a pleasure to transcribe the letters _in extenso_, but the\nthree cover thirty-two pages of closely-written letter-paper, and\nwould consequently take up too much room in a biography. Some\nsceptically-inclined person will probably say,--\"she had some Jesuit\nor other astute Romish priest at her elbow when she wrote these\nletters.\" The writer can only tell his reader that he verily suspects\nas much himself. But before any of us jump at a conclusion, it might\nbe well to consider this sentence which occurs towards the end of the\nthird letter. \"Do not think I am under the influence of some priests\nwho have induced me to undertake this examination. It was a lawyer\nfirst awakened my curiosity, telling me you may read in vain and\nargue--you will not, you cannot find the truth unless you pray for it\nas the free gift of God; and to obtain this you must be humble, your\nconscience must be as pure as you can make it: God alone can be your\nhelp; pray to Him unceasingly.\"\n\nHowever we may think about their real author, the matter itself is\nvery good, and their consequence to Mr. Spencer was of vital\nimportance. There are no rough copies of his answers to the unknown to\nbe found among his papers, or it would be very interesting to place\nthem side by side with what we have quoted. The result of these\nletters we have in his account of his conversion:--\n\n  \"After this period I entertained the opinion that the Reformers had\n  done wrong in separating from the original body of the Church; at\n  any rate, I was convinced that Protestants who succeeded them were\n  bound to make a reunion with it. I still conceived that many errors\n  and corruptions had been introduced among Catholics, and I did not\n  imagine that I could ever conform to their faith, or join in their\n  practices, without some alterations on their part; but I trusted\n  that the time might not be distant when God would inspire all\n  Christians with a spirit of peace and concord, which would make\n  Protestants anxiously seek to be {185} re-united to their brethren,\n  and Catholics willing to listen to reason, and to correct those\n  abuses in faith, and discipline which kept their brethren from\n  joining them. To the procuring such a happy termination to the\n  miserable schisms which had rent the Church, I determined to devote\n  my life. I now lost no opportunity of conversations with Protestants\n  and Catholics. My object with both was to awaken them to a desire of\n  unity with each other; to satisfy myself the more clearly where was\n  the exact path of truth in which it was desirable that we should all\n  walk together; and then to persuade all to correct their respective\n  errors in conformity with the perfect rule, which I had no doubt the\n  Lord would in due time point out to me, and to all who were ready to\n  follow His will disinterestedly. I thought that when Catholics were\n  at length willing to enter with me on these discussions with\n  candour, they would at once begin to see the errors which to me\n  appeared so palpable in their system: but I was greatly surprised to\n  find them all so fixed in their principles, that they gave me no\n  prospect of re-union except on condition of others submitting\n  unreservedly to them; and, at the same time, I could see in their\n  ordinary conduct and manner of disputing with me nothing to make one\n  suspect them of insincerity, or of want of sufficient information of\n  the grounds of their belief. These repeated conversations increased\n  more and more my desire to discover the true road, which I saw that\n  I, at least for one, was ignorant of: but I still imagined that I\n  could see such plain marks of difference between the Catholic Church\n  of the present day and the Church of the primitive ages as described\n  in Scripture, that I repeatedly put aside the impression which the\n  arguments of Catholics, and, yet more, my observation of their\n  character, made upon me, and I still held up my head in the\n  controversy.\"\n\n{186}\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nAmbrose Lisle Phillipps.\n\n\nThe close and warm friendship between Father Ignatius and Mr.\nPhillipps has scarcely a parallel in ancient or modern history. They\nbecame acquainted in 1829; and until death suspended their mutual\ncommunication for awhile, they ever wrote, spoke, and thought, with\nmore than a brotherly--ay, more than any human or natural affection.\nThe Christian patriotism of each, which prayed and laboured to bring\ntheir countrymen to the blessings they themselves had received, may\nhave fostered this beautiful love; and even the different spheres in,\nas well as means by, which they felt themselves called to prosecute\nthe work of their predilection may have helped to keep it ever warm\nand new; but there was a something in it which reminds one of David\nand Jonathan, that spread over it a grace and splendour far above what\nit is given us now and then to behold. This chapter will show the rise\nof their mutual affection, and show where lay the basis of the edifice\ngratitude and charity helped to fashion.\n\nFather Ignatius says, in the account of his conversion:--\n\n  \"Near the end of the year 1829 I was introduced to young Mr.\n  Phillipps, eldest son of a rich gentleman in Leicestershire, whom I\n  had often heard spoken of as a convert to the Catholic religion. I\n  had for a long time been curious to see him, that I might observe\n  the mode of reasoning by which he had been persuaded into what I\n  still thought so great an error. We spent five hours together in the\n  house of the Rev. Mr. Foley, Catholic Missionary in my\n  neighbourhood, with whom I had already had much intercourse. I was\n  interested by the ardent zeal of this {187} young man in the cause\n  of his faith. I had previously imagined that he must have been\n  ignorant on the subject of religion, and that he had suffered\n  himself to be led blindly by others; but he answered all my\n  objections about his own conversion with readiness and intelligence.\n  I could not but see that it had been in him the result of his own\n  diligent investigations. I was delighted with what I could observe\n  of his character. I was more than ever inflamed with a desire to be\n  united in communion with persons in whom I saw such clear signs of\n  the Spirit of God; but yet my time was not fully come. I fancied, by\n  his conversation, that he had principles and ideas inconsistent with\n  what I had learned from Scripture; and in a few days I again put\n  aside the uneasiness which this meeting had occasioned, and\n  continued to follow my former purpose, only with increased\n  resolution to come at satisfaction. He was, in the meanwhile, much\n  interested in my case. He recommended me to the prayers of some\n  religious communities, and soon after invited me to his father's\n  house that we might continue our discourses. I was happy at the\n  prospect of this meeting, and full of hopes that it would prove\n  satisfactory to me; but I left home without any idea of the\n  conclusion to which it pleased God to bring me so soon.\"\n\nMr. Phillipps wrote to him:--\n\n  \"My Dear Sir,--We expect the Bishop of Lichfield here on the 25th\n  January, and I have ventured to hope that I might be able to induce\n  you to come here at that time, to meet him and stay the week. I hope\n  so the more, as I think your conversation might induce him, as well\n  as my father, to think more seriously on that awful subject on which\n  we conversed when I had the great happiness of being introduced to\n  you at Northampton. I assure you, a day has not passed without my\n  offering up my unworthy prayers to Almighty God in your behalf; and\n  I cannot refrain from again saying, that I hope one day we shall be\n  united in the same faith of the One Holy and Apostolic Church of\n  Jesus Christ. How great is the consolation to belong to that holy\n  Church which alone Jesus Christ has founded, which alone He has\n  illustrated with a never-failing succession of {188} pastors and of\n  miracles, from which all others have separated, and out of which I\n  find in the Holy Scriptures no covenanted promise of salvation! The\n  Catholic Church alone has converted those nations which have been\n  brought to the faith of Christ; and as, on the one hand, no man\n  could at this moment be a Protestant had not Luther and the other\n  Reformers existed, so, on the other, neither Luther nor any\n  succeeding Protestant could derive any knowledge of Christianity but\n  from the Catholic Church. How sublime are the promises of Christ,\n  'Upon this Rock I will build My Church, and the gates of Hell shall\n  not prevail against it.' .... 'Going, therefore, teach ye all\n  nations.' .... 'And lo! I am with you all days, even unto the end of\n  the world.' Now to what Church was this promise made (a promise\n  which involves infallibility; for it would be blasphemy to say that\n  the God of Truth could commission a Church to teach the world, if\n  that Church could possibly teach error)? Certainly not to Churches\n  (sects, I should say) which separated from the parent Church fifteen\n  hundred years after the promise was given, and therefore came into\n  existence fifteen hundred years too late to be the Church of Christ.\n  And to what do the sects have recourse? To groundless accusations of\n  the Church of God, involving the charge of idolatry; but this very\n  charge condemns them, '_ex ore tuo judico te_.' for, by saying that\n  the Church fell into idolatry, and that that justifies their\n  separation, they admit that there was a time when the Church was not\n  guilty of idolatry. Now how are the promises of Christ verified, if\n  His Church could ever become idolatrous? I find in no part of\n  Scripture any prediction that the Church of Christ should ever\n  become idolatrous, and that then it should be lawful to separate\n  from her. Christ said simply, 'I am with you all days,' and 'he that\n  believeth and is baptised shall be saved, and he that believeth not\n  shall be condemned.' It is in vain to urge that St. Paul speaks of\n  the 'man of sin,' and of 'a falling away,'--he speaks not of the\n  Church; and the very expression 'a falling away' shows that it is\n  not the Church, but sects, to which he alludes--for the Church never\n  fell away from any previous Church,--this is matter of {189}\n  history; but all the sects, all schismatics, all heretics, fell away\n  from the Catholic Church of Christ,--this is equally matter of\n  history. No. St. Paul, the ever-glorious apostle and doctor of the\n  Gentiles, spoke of Arius, Luther, Calvin, Knox, and Henry VIII., and\n  all other heresiarchs, all of whom did apostatize and 'fall away,'\n  and have by their schisms and endless divisions, and the spirit of\n  infidelity resulting from them, paved the way for the Man of Sin,\n  the great Antichrist, who may perhaps shortly appear, the last\n  development of Heresy and Liberalism. But how shall sectaries take\n  refuge in the mysterious predictions of the Apocalypse? As well\n  might that atrocious assassin who killed Henry IV. find some excuse\n  in the hidden words of that volume. But I might pursue the question\n  still further. What right have sects to the Bible? Jesus Christ gave\n  it to us, and these men have stolen our book. If they say He did not\n  give it to us, I reply, then they ought to cease to believe that\n  Jesus Christ ever existed, for that is no more a matter of history,\n  nor a more certain fact, than His commission to His Church to teach\n  all nations all truth.\n\n  \"But I must conclude. I have not written all this without some fear;\n  but, my dear Mr. Spencer, I know it is a subject which is deeply\n  interesting to you, and, therefore, however ill I may have said it,\n  I have said it with the less hesitation. Will you write me a line to\n  say if you can come here? I do hope you will. My father says he had\n  the pleasure once of meeting you at Mr. Thornton's.\n\n    \"Believe me, my dear Mr. Spencer,\n      \"Most sincerely yours,\n        \"Ambrose Lisle Phillipps.\n\n    \"Clarendon Park, Loughbro',\n    _\"Dec._ 30.\"\n\nThe letter in which Father Ignatius signified his acceptance of this\ninvitation is still extant, and was lent by Mr. Phillipps to the\nPassionists for this \"Life.\" It is interesting, as the last vibration\nof the needle to the pole of Catholic truth, as well as for the idea\nit gives of his state of mind at that time. We give it, therefore, in\nfull. He wrote it from {190} Althorp, where the family were assembled,\nas usual, for the Christmas holidays.\n\n  \"Althorp, _Jan_. 4, 1830.\n\n  \"My Dear Sir,--I received your kind invitation to Garendon on\n  Saturday; but I thought it best to postpone answering it for a day\n  or two, that I might consider what I had better do. If the visit\n  which you propose to me had been an ordinary one, I suppose I should\n  have declined it for the present, as I believe my father and mother\n  will be at Althorp till about the 25th January, and I seldom go out\n  when they are here. But as you invite me in the hope, and with a\n  desire, that good may be done by my going, I believe I should be\n  sorry afterwards if I refused. I therefore have told my father of my\n  intention, and, if nothing happens to prevent me, I will be with you\n  on Monday the 25th. As to the hour of my arrival, I cannot just now\n  tell how the coaches run between Northampton and Loughborough; but I\n  conclude I shall be with you in good time. And now that I have\n  determined to go, I am really thankful that another opportunity of\n  conversing with you is given me so soon; and I trust that our\n  intercourse will be blessed for our own good and that of others. And\n  if the step you have taken in becoming a Roman Catholic is correct,\n  according to the will of Christ, I have no doubt that my\n  conversation with you will be of use in drawing me nearer to the\n  right point. If, as I still am convinced, there is some error in\n  your views, let us agree in hoping that our intercourse may be\n  likewise profitable to you. I have been confirmed, by every\n  conversation which I have had with Roman Catholics, in the\n  persuasion that there is something materially wrong in what we may\n  call the Protestant system; and I have spoken my mind to this effect\n  as often as occasion has been given me. But if our union with the\n  Roman Catholic Church involves a declaration of my belief of all\n  that she teaches, and a submission to all her authority, as their\n  subjects are set forth in Bossuet's Exposition and Catechism, I am\n  not as yet one of the body; and I am reduced to the conviction that\n  somewhere or other there is an error among {191} you. One thing I\n  have learnt in the course of these inquiries is that the Scriptures\n  of the New Testament are not, as I formerly used to regard them\n  through want of consideration, the formal canon of the Christian\n  faith. It is as clear to me as I suppose you could wish it to be,\n  that the oral tradition of Christ to Peter and the other Apostles,\n  and that of the Apostles to the Churches, is the rule of Christian\n  doctrine, and with all my heart I seek for the knowledge of what\n  they taught, and have been frequently struck with the desirableness\n  of a clear and definite authority to which we might refer, when I\n  have observed the mischief into which Christians have fallen by\n  following each his own judgment. I do not see how I should be\n  stopped from at once becoming Catholic, under this impression, if it\n  was not that on comparing the state of the doctrine and discipline\n  of the Roman Church with what the Scriptures plainly teach me of the\n  state of the Apostolic Church, and the method of their doctrine, I\n  see such an obvious and plain difference, and I cannot be convinced\n  but that, between their time and that of the Council of Trent,\n  improper use has been made of the Church's authority. I am waiting\n  to learn what is the right way, which God knows and He alone; and I\n  can only hope for His guidance of me into the right way by standing\n  ready for conviction when the means of it are offered to me. I\n  declare myself to be in doubt. But that doubt gives me no\n  uneasiness, for my hope of salvation is simply founded on Jesus\n  Christ crucified; whom I expect to meet, as one of His redeemed\n  ones, when He returns. It is not any works of righteousness which I\n  can do, nor any outward profession of doctrine which I can make,\n  that can justify me. I am justified freely by the grace of God\n  through faith in Jesus Christ, to whom I give myself, to learn of\n  Him and follow Him whithersoever He leadeth. You will find me as\n  open to instruction and conviction as you seemed to think me at Mr.\n  Foley's; and I will weigh what you say, though you should decline to\n  meet me on the same terms, and declare yourself determined to give\n  your mind no more to inquiry. Yet, for your own sake and the sake of\n  others, who will of course be more disposed to attend to you if they\n  see you {192} candid and still humble and doubtful of your own\n  judgment, I wish you to resolve that you will meet me as I come to\n  you, determined that we will, with the blessing of God, come to one\n  mind, at the cost of all our respective prejudices. We should not\n  meet as polemics determined on victory, but in the spirit of\n  meekness and mutual forbearance. Then God, who sees the heart, if he\n  sees us truly thus disposed, will know how to make his truth shine\n  clearly to us both. Above all, let us pray for each other, and for\n  all, but especially those who most nearly belong to us, and be\n  encouraged by the promise, 'If any two of you shall agree as\n  touching anything that ye shall ask, on earth it shall be done for\n  them of My Father, who is in heaven.' Pray give my respectful\n  compliments to your father, whom I remember well meeting once at\n  Brock Hall, and of whom I have often heard the Thorntons speak with\n  great regard; and to carry to him my best thanks for his kind\n  permission to you to receive me in his house. Perhaps I shall write\n  to the Bishop of Lichfield, to tell him that I expect to meet him\n  there. I hope nothing will prevent his coming. And if we are allowed\n  to have freedom of conversation with him on these things, which I\n  pray to God may be given us, I must particularly interest you to\n  hear and consider what he says with meekness and humility, though\n  you may have the clearest conviction that he is in error. Surely his\n  age and rank, and the work to which he has sincerely devoted\n  himself, and his relation to you, make this a double duty; and, by\n  acting so, you will not be hurt, for though you may be perplexed for\n  awhile, God will not suffer you to lose one point of what is really\n  good, but will finally establish you the more firmly for acting in\n  this humble spirit.\n\n    \"Believe me, dear Sir,\n      \"Yours most sincerely,\n        \"George Spencer.\"\n\nHe relates, in the _Account of his Conversion_, the effects of this\nvisit:--\n\n  \"On Sunday, 24th January, 1830, I preached in my church, and in the\n  evening took leave of my family for the {193} week, intending to\n  return on the Saturday following to my ordinary duties at home. But\n  our Lord ordered better for me. During the week I spent on this\n  visit I passed many hours daily in conversation with Phillipps, and\n  was satisfied beyond all my expectations with the answers he gave to\n  the different questions I proposed, about the principal tenets and\n  practices of Catholics. During the week we were in company with\n  several other Protestants, and among them some distinguished\n  clergymen of the Church of England, who occasionally joined in our\n  discussions. I was struck with observing how the advantage always\n  appeared on his side in the arguments which took place between them,\n  notwithstanding their superior age and experience;[Footnote 8] and I\n  saw how weak was the cause in behalf of which I had hitherto been\n  engaged; I felt ashamed of arguing any longer against what I began\n  to see clearly could not be fairly disproved. I now openly declared\n  myself completely shaken, and, though I determined to take no\n  decided step until I was entirely convinced, I determined to give\n  myself no rest till I was satisfied, and had little doubt now of\n  what the result would be. But yet I thought not how soon God would\n  make the truth clear to me. I was to return home, as I have said, on\n  Saturday. Phillipps agreed to accompany me on the day previous to\n  Leicester, where we might have further conversation with Father\n  Caestryck, the Catholic missionary established in that place. I\n  imagined that I might take some weeks longer for consideration, but\n  Mr. Caestryck's conversation that afternoon overcame all my\n  opposition. He explained to me, and made me see, that the way to\n  come at the knowledge of the true religion is not to contend, as men\n  are disposed to do, about each individual point, but to submit\n  implicitly to the authority of Christ, and of those to whom He has\n  committed the charge of His flock. He set before me the undeniable\n  but wonderful fact of the agreement of the Catholic Church all over\n  the world, in one faith, under one head; he showed me the assertions\n  of Protestants, that the Catholic Church had altered her doctrines,\n  were {194} not supported by evidence; he pointed out the wonderful,\n  unbroken chain of the Roman Pontiffs; he observed to me how in all\n  ages the Church, under their guidance, had exercised an authority,\n  undisputed by her children, of cutting off from her communion all\n  who opposed her faith and disobeyed her discipline. I saw that her\n  assumption of this power was consistent with Christ's commission to\n  His Apostles to teach all men to the end of the world; and His\n  declaration that those who would not hear the pastors of His Church\n  rejected Him. What right, then, thought I, had Luther and his\n  companions to set themselves against the united voice of the Church?\n  I saw that he rebelled against the authority of God when he set\n  himself up as an independent guide. He was bound to obey the\n  Catholic Church--how then should I not be equally bound to return to\n  it? And need I fear that I should be led into error by trusting to\n  those guides to whom Christ himself thus directed me? No! I thought\n  this impossible. Full of these impressions, I left Mr. Caestryck's\n  house to go to my inn, whence I was to return home next morning.\n  Phillipps accompanied me, and took this last occasion to impress on\n  me the awful importance of the decision which I was called upon to\n  make. At length I answered:--\n\n    [Footnote 8: Phillipps was then about 17 years of age.]\n\n  \"'I am overcome. There is no doubt of the truth. One more Sunday I\n  will preach to my congregation, and then put myself into Mr. Foley's\n  hands, and conclude this business.'\n\n  \"It may be thought with what joyful ardour he embraced this\n  declaration, and warned me to declare my sentiments faithfully in\n  these my last discourses. The next minute led me to the\n  reflection,--Have I any right to stand in that pulpit, being once\n  convinced that the Church is heretical to which it belongs? Am I\n  safe in exposing myself to the danger which may attend one day's\n  travelling, while I turn my back on the Church of God, which now\n  calls me to unite myself to her for ever? I said to Phillipps: 'If\n  this step is right for me to take next week, it is my duty to take\n  it now. My resolution is made; to-morrow I will be received into the\n  Church.' We lost no time in despatching a messenger to {195} my\n  father, to inform him of this unexpected event. As I was forming my\n  last resolution, the thought of him came across me; will it not be\n  said that I endanger his very life by so sudden and severe a shock?\n  The words of our Lord rose before me, and answered all my doubts:\n  'He that hateth not father and mother, and brothers and sisters, and\n  houses and lands, and his own life too, cannot be my disciple.' To\n  the Lord, then, I trusted for the support and comfort of my dear\n  father under the trial which, in obedience to His call, I was about\n  to inflict upon him. I had no further anxiety to disturb me. God\n  alone knows the peace and joy with which I laid me down that night\n  to rest. The next day, at nine o'clock, the Church received me for\n  her child.\"\n\n{196}\n\n{197}\n\n\nBOOK III\n\n_F. Ignatius, a Secular Priest_.\n\n\n{198}\n\n{199}\n\nBOOK III.\n\n_F. Ignatius, a Secular Priest_.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nHis First Days In The Church.\n\n\nConversions to Catholicism were not such every-day occurrences, some\nthirty years ago, as they are now. The disabilities under which\nCatholics laboured politically, before 1829, made them hide their\nheads, except when forced into public notice by efforts to break their\nshackles. The religion that civilized England, and consecrated every\nremarkable spot in it to the service of God, had become a thing of the\npast, and the relics of Catholic piety that studded the land were\nlooked upon as the gravestones of its corse, or the trophies of\nvanquishing Protestantism. Not only was Catholicity supposed to be\ndead in England, but its memory was in execration; nurses frightened\nthe children with phantoms of monks, and mountebank preachers took\ntheir inspiration from the prejudices they had imbibed in childhood.\nThe agitation about the _Veto_, and the Debates on the Catholic\nquestion, which filled the public mind about the year 1830, and for\nsome ten years before, showed that Catholicity had not died, but only\nslept. The Catholics emerged from their dens and caverns; they bought\nand sold, spoke and listened, like their neighbours; and the King was\nnot afraid of a Catholic ball when he took his next airing {200} in\nHyde Park. The Catholic Church had been barely given leave to eke out\nits declining days, with something like the indulgence allowed a\ncondemned criminal, when, to the astonishment of all, it sprung up\nwith new vigour, and waxed and throve in numbers and in position. It\nwas considered worth a hearing now, and faith came by hearing to many,\nwho would have been horrified before at opening by chance such an\nantichristian thing as a Catholic book. A conversion, then, rather\nstunned than embittered the relatives of the convert. The full tide of\nTractarianism had not yet set in, and the systematic pitchforks of\nprivate persecution and stately rebuke, that were afterwards invented\nto stop it, were not so much as thought of. The conversion of the\nHonourable George Spencer happened in those peculiar times. His family\nwere partially prepared for it, for fluctuating between so many\nreligious opinions as he had been for so long, and earnest, too, in\npushing arguments to their furthest length, it was often half\nsuspected that he would go to Popery at last. There he was now, a\nchild of the Catholic Church, shrived and baptized according to her\nritual. His die was cast. He was fixed for ever. His wandering was at\nan end. With the exception of his house-keeper, who laid her down to\ndie for sheer affliction at the news, we are not aware that many\nothers were much moved by what they considered his defection.\nDoubtless, his father and the immediate family circle felt it deeply;\nhis Protestant vagaries had caused them sleepless nights and silent\nafternoons, and the Church of which he became a member was not likely\nto seem less absurd to them than it once seemed to himself. But then\nhe was incorrigible; there was no use talking to him; he would have\nhis own way, and there was what it led to.\n\nLord Spencer was always favourable to Catholics, but it was in the\nspirit of generosity to a fallen, or justice to an injured people. He\nnever dreamt his own son would be one of the first to reap the benefit\nof the measures he advocated in Parliament. The letter he received\nfrom Leicester in January, 1830, must have been a shock indeed.\nBesides, a member of this aristocratic house descending to such a\nlevel {201} must be considered a family disgrace--an event to be wept\nover as long as there was one to glory in the name of Spencer, or feel\nfor its _prestige_. Taking all these things into account, and many\nother minor considerations, it would be no wonder if Mr. Spencer was\ntreated with harshness, and banished Althorp for ever. Nothing of the\nkind. His father was very considerate; and liberal, too, in making a\nprovision for his son's future maintenance. George himself was\nreceived on friendly terms by every branch of the family, and, so far\nfrom avoiding him or mortifying him, they seemed all to have respected\nhis sincerity. He wrote to Dr. Walsh, the Vicar Apostolic of the\ncentral district, immediately after his reception into the Church,\nplacing himself as a subject at his lordship's disposition. Mr.\nSpencer's idea was to be ordained as soon as possible, and come back\nto his own parish to preach, like St. Paul, against his former\nteaching. This intention was checked by the Bishop's writing word for\nhim to put off his first Communion a little longer, and to come and\nmeet his Lordship in Wolverhampton towards the middle of February.\nThis letter he received in F. Caestryck's, in Leicester, three days\nafter his reception. He thinks the arrangement excellent. He spent a\nfortnight in the priest's house at Leicester, and he used often to say\nthat this good priest's way of settling difficulties, though it might\nlook unsatisfactory, was the very best thing that ever occurred to\nhim. He made Mr. Spencer fully aware of the great dogma of the\nChurch's infallibility before he received him. F. Caestryck was one of\nthose good emigre priests who were well up in the Church's positive\nand moral theology, but cared very little for polemics. Whenever Mr.\nSpencer asked him \"Why was anything such a way in Catholic teaching?\"\nthe old man simply replied: \"The Church says so.\" This was very wise\nat such a time; the period for reasoning and discussion was passed,\nand the neophyte had to be taught to exercise the faith he had adopted\nnow. He learnt the lesson very well, and was saved from the danger of\narguing himself out of the Church again, as some do who do not leave\ntheir private judgment outside the Church-door, at their conversion.\n\n{202}\n\nScarcely anything is so remarkable as the readiness with which, on his\nreception, he laid down all notions of his being a minister of God.\nOne short extract from a letter to his housekeeper, enclosing money\nfrom Leicester, to pay bills, will illustrate this: \"If you have an\nopportunity, tell those who choose to attend, that I have acknowledged\nthe authority of the Catholic Church, and therefore resigned my\nministry for the present. If they care for my advice, tell them to\nsend for Mr. Foley (the priest at Northampton), and hear him as the\nminister of God.\" This letter was written before he was a week a\nCatholic, and it promises well for his future that he does not\narrogate to himself the office of teacher before he is commissioned,\nmuch less before he is sufficiently instructed. Many, in their first\nfervour, make false steps in the way he avoided which it is often\ndifficult to retrace. The glow of happiness at finding one's self in\n_the Church_ ought to be allowed to subside, and to allow the newborn\njudgment to be capable of discretion, before beginning to dabble in\ntheology.\n\nHe pays a visit to Brington in a few days, in company with F.\nCaestryck, and writes beforehand to his housekeeper to collect a few\nof his faithful listeners, that he may get them a few words of advice\nfrom a real live priest. It seems, from hints thrown out here and\nthere in his letters, that Bishop Walsh was for his going to Rome to\nprepare himself for Orders. This was a drawback to his own plan, but\nevents will show how wisely the Bishop arranged. Mr. Spencer's anxiety\nto be ordained at once and sent out to preach is an evidence of the\nstrength of his faith. He imagined the Sacrament of Orders would have\ninfused all ecclesiastical knowledge into his soul, and it was only\nwhen he had to work hard at the study of theology that he perceived\nthe wisdom of blind submission to the judgment of his superiors. He\ngoes to London to consult Dr. Bramston as to what he had better do,\nand he gives the result in a letter to Mr. Phillipps.\n\n  \"London, _Feb_. 18, 1830.\n\n  \"My Dear Ambrose,--I write from Bishop Bramston's study; he has left\n  me there, and is gone to transact a little {203} business in another\n  room. I have passed through my interview with my father, and thank\n  God for it. His kindness was very great, joined with great depth of\n  feeling. I will tell you more of it soon, when we meet. I shall\n  leave London on Saturday for Northampton, where I am to be at Lady\n  Throckmorton's till Monday. I shall then proceed to Birmingham by a\n  coach which passes through Northampton from Cambridge, at one or two\n  o'clock. On the next day, Tuesday, I will go to Wolverhampton, where\n  I hope to meet you, my dear brother. I shall have plenty more to\n  tell you then. Now, let it suffice to say that all my family and\n  Bishop Bramston are decidedly for the Roman plan. I suppose the Lord\n  so intends it. His will be done and His glory advanced; I will be as\n  wax in His hand. My father has made me quite comfortable for money,\n  and in the most prudent way. Farewell, my brother, and believe me,\n\n    \"Your affectionate\n      \"George Spencer.\"\n\nHe expressed his gratitude, again and again, for the manner in which\nhis family received him, especially as he knew that his late step was\nlooked upon by them as \"an unmixed evil.\" They were even willing to\nreceive him as a guest wherever they might be staying except at\nAlthorp; and, at Dr. Bramston's suggestion, he agreed to these terms,\nas well as made up his mind not to go to Brington again, in compliance\nwith his father's wishes. These matters he arranged in a few days; he\npensioned off one or two of his servants, he made his will about his\nstock of sermons, and it was, \"Give them to the new incumbent, and let\nhim do what he likes with them.\"\n\nHe had some difficulty in obeying his Bishop with regard to \"the Roman\nplan,\" as he calls it. It was the first test of his obedience. He\nthought it was because the Bishop was weak enough to yield to the\nwishes of his family that he was sent. These wishes appeared to him to\nproceed from principles to which the Church's policy should not suit\nitself. There would be a noise made in the papers about his\nconversion, and his friends would have to answer {204} questions about\nhim in inquisitive circles. His father did not wish him to go to\nBrington, and he himself was most anxious to use the influence he\npossessed over his dependants in order to their conversion. To avoid\nthese inconveniences and clashing of motives they desired he might be\nabsent from England for some time. Some of his friends also thought\ngoing to Rome would make him Protestant again; for, he says in a\nletter written a few days after his arrival in Rome, \"You see now that\ncoming to Rome does not open my eyes and make me wish myself a\nProtestant again. You may tell all Protestants that I am under no\ncharm, and if anything occurs to make me see that ours is an apostate\nChurch, I shall not, I trust, perversely suffer my fate to be bound up\nwith hers, and consent to die in her plagues.\" The public parade of\nCatholic ceremonial had not formerly produced the best of effects upon\nhim, and perhaps it was expected the old feelings would be revived by\nseeing the same things once more.\n\nThe very reasons his friends had for detaining him might urge the\nBishop to hasten his departure. His anxiety to go and preach\nCatholicity in Brington was not quite according to prudence, for\nthough he might know the principal dogmas of faith and believe them\nfirmly, he still needed that Catholic instinct and mode of thought\nwhich can nowhere be imbibed so quickly or so surely as in Rome. There\nare many traits of Protestant _viewiness_ to be seen in his letters at\nthis period, but,\n\n  \"Quo semel imbuta est recens servabit odorem,\n   Testa din.\"\n\nIt would not have been so easy to bring these properly into subjection\nwhilst he had the thousand-and-one forms of Protestant errors seething\naround him, and would be forced by his zeal to seek out ways of making\nCatholic truth approach them. Where everything was Catholic to the\nvery core, in might and majesty, was the best school for tutoring him\ninto Catholic feelings and ideas. It was well also to let him see the\nforce of prejudice, by making him experience in himself how\ndifferently things seem according {205} to the state of one's mind. If\nhe was shocked at Rome as a Protestant, it was well to let him know\nthat it was because he was unable to understand as a Protestant what\ngave him so much joy and edification, when he could see with Catholic\neyes.\n\nA courier was leaving London for Ancona, and as he did not see any\nreason for delay, he took a seat with him, and started for Rome on the\n1st March, and arrived on the 12th, the feast of St. Gregory. He\ncontrived to make the acquaintance of Mr. Digby in Paris, and hear\nmass three times during his journey, which was considered a very\nquickly made one in those days. He also had a very pleasing interview\nwith Cardinal Mezzofanti in passing through Bologna.\n\n{206}\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nMr. Spencer In The English College, Rome.\n\n\nOn the evening of his arrival in Rome he went to the English College\nand presented himself to Dr. Wiseman, the late Cardinal, who was the\nrector. Dr. Wiseman had heard of his conversion, but did not expect to\nsee him so soon, and while they were conversing and giving and\nreceiving explanations, two letters arrived by post from Bishops\nBramston and Walsh, which put everything in its proper place. Here\nthen we have this distinguished convert lodged in a student's cell to\nprepare for receiving real Orders in due time. He gives his\nimpressions of the college in a letter to Mr. Phillipps, written about\na week after his arrival, as follows:--\n\n  \"I have felt most completely comfortable and happy ever since I have\n  been here. The life of the college is of course regular and strict.\n  I could not have believed in the existence of a society for\n  education such as this, half a year ago. Such discipline and\n  obedience, united with perfect freedom and cordiality, is the fruit\n  of the Catholic religion alone, in which we learn really to look on\n  men as bearing rule in God's name, so that they need not keep up\n  their influence by affectation of superiority and mysterious\n  reserve. I do not know all the members of the college by name even\n  yet, but, as far as I do, I can speak only in one language of them\n  all. I have kept company principally with the rector and\n  vice-rector, as I am not put on the footing of the ordinary\n  students, being a _convictor_, that is, paying my own way, and also\n  brought here under such peculiarity of circumstances as warrants\n  some distinction, though I desire to make that as little as\n  possible. I do not go with the others to the public schools, but am\n  to study at home under Dr. Wiseman and Dr. Errington. The rules\n  {207} of the house I observe, and indeed so do the rectors as the\n  rest.\"\n\nThe peace of sober college life could not long remain unalloyed, if it\nwere to be lasting. Whilst Mr. Spencer was studying his Moral or Dogma\nby the little lamp, and unmoved except by the anxiety to read faster,\nin order to be sooner in the field to work for God, the world outside\nwas not disposed to forget him. Various rumours were set afloat about\nNorthampton concerning him; one would account for his sudden\ndisappearance, another for his resignation of his living, a third\nwould set about unravelling the popish plots of which he must have\nbeen a dupe. These were trifling pastimes, which could be ungrudgingly\npermitted for the better savouring of devout tea-parties: but surmise\nwill not be content with all this. There was his housekeeper, who\nbecame ill immediately, and was near dying. What did that mean?\nSlanderous reports were set on foot, and the answer to them is the\nmost complete refutation that could possibly be given, while it is at\nthe same time a proof of his virtue. On May 17th, 1830, he thus writes\nfrom the English college to the housekeeper, who had mentioned the\nmatter in a letter to him:\n\n  .... \"I see that it has pleased God that you should suffer under\n  calumny; thank God, most undeserved. It is evident that this slander\n  affects my character as much as yours, and there is hardly a state\n  of life to be conceived where such imputations are more injurious\n  than a priest's; yet if all men should believe it, and I should live\n  and die under this evil report, God forbid I should willingly\n  repine. It would be no trial to suffer calumny, if it was not at\n  first a painful thing; and therefore I do not wonder, nor find fault\n  with you, at your being greatly afflicted when you were so insulted\n  and abused as you describe; but, my dear girl, you should not have\n  _allowed_ this to weigh upon your mind. You have more reason to\n  grieve for this proof of how weak your faith and love to God is,\n  than for the slander. I think it was a mistake that you did not tell\n  me of this at Northampton. I trust I should then and shall always\n  {208} rejoice, when I am counted worthy to suffer reproach for the\n  sake of Christ; and I thank God that such is this reproach. I\n  deserve reproach enough, it is true; and both you and I, if we look\n  through our past lives, shall see that we deserve this and much more\n  for our sins. Let us then learn to accept the bitter words of\n  unfeeling men, as David did the curses of Semei, as ordered by God\n  for our chastening, that we may be purified by them, and He will\n  then turn their calumnies into greater honour one day or other.\n  Though you had better have told me, as I might have helped you at\n  once to overcome your annoyance, yet it may have been better for you\n  to suffer it thus long, that you may learn how much you do care for\n  character, and may henceforth give that up as well as everything\n  besides that you love on earth. If you are so afflicted at a false\n  reproach against you, what would your feelings have been if the Lord\n  had seen fit to prove you, by suffering you indeed to fall; and\n  where is your strength or mine, that we should be innocent in\n  anything for a day, except through His grace? Just think over the\n  matter with yourself, and let this word of advice be sufficient, and\n  let me have the happiness of knowing that you are again what I\n  remember you, patient, and meek, and cheerful, and allowing nothing\n  to concern you but to please God more and more, and work out your\n  salvation. I see by your letter, which I look at again, that you\n  certainly would have told me of this at Northampton, had you judged\n  for yourself, and perhaps it was right that you should act in it as\n  you were advised. Therefore, do not take what I say now as if I had\n  anything but the sincerest love and respect for you; I only speak to\n  warn you of your spiritual wants, in which I partake with you. A\n  woman's feelings are more tender, of course, under such cruel\n  insults. When my feelings are hurt I find the same proof that I do\n  not love God as I ought to do, and surely we never can have too much\n  of that love. How infinitely blessed are you that you are singled\n  out from the herd of those who prosper in the world, and have all\n  men speaking well of them, and are permitted to walk in the way by\n  which alone we can attain to the kingdom set before us. Remember the\n  most blessed and {209} glorious Virgin, Mary, of all creatures the\n  most beloved and most worthy to be loved of God, who was saluted by\n  an angel as full of grace, and is now in heaven, Queen of Angels,\n  and Prophets, and Apostles, and Martyrs. How was her infinite honour\n  of being mother of God made the occasion of most cruel suspicions\n  against her heavenly purity. If she was content to bear this with\n  perfect meekness and humility for God's sake, surely you may say\n  with her, 'be it done unto me according to thy word,' whether He\n  shall order you to bear this or any other trouble. If occasion is\n  put before you to prove yourself undeserving of such imputations, do\n  not neglect to use it, for God's honour, which suffers by our being\n  supposed guilty, and for the good of your slanderers, who may be\n  brought to repentance by a due reproof; but take no pains about it,\n  except in prayer to God, and in examining throughout all your past\n  ways, what may be the cause of the affliction as ordered by Him. I\n  am sure I can hardly find anything to accuse you of. I used to\n  delight in your conversation, and you did in mine; but, thank God,\n  great as my sins have been, I never, I believe, said a word to wound\n  your delicacy, and you never transgressed the bounds of respect\n  which a servant ought to show towards a master. But those who, for\n  their own sorrow, will not learn what the joys of spiritual\n  friendship are, cannot understand any intimacy but that which is\n  sensual and gross. As, therefore, I left home so suddenly, and they\n  could not again understand the possibility that my faith should be\n  so suddenly established, and that, for the sake of it, I was willing\n  to give up my home, and as you showed such emotion at learning that\n  I was to leave you, these people had no way to account for the whole\n  matter but imputing to us shameful guilt.\"\n\nFrom Mr. Spencer's charity before he became a Catholic we may conclude\nwhat it must have been now. It would seem that, in temporals, he had\nnot those difficulties in the way of his conversion that beset many\nProtestant clergymen who depend solely on their livings. But, the\nsacrifices he willingly made, prove that the prospect of sheer want\neven would not have deterred him from following God's {210} call. A\nfew days after his conversion he went to see the Dominican Fathers at\nHinckley, and said, in conversation, \"I suppose it is not lawful for\nme to receive the fruits of my benefice, now that I have ceased to be\na minister of the Establishment.\" One of them said, \"Certainly not.\"\nWhereupon he asked for a sheet of paper, wrote a letter to the\nProtestant bishop in a few minutes, resigning his cure, and simply\nsaid, as he impressed the seal, \"There goes \u00a33,000 a year.\" He was\nthen wholly dependent on his father's bounty, and if unworthy motives\nhad had any force with Earl Spencer, his son might have found himself\npenniless. From the allowance granted him he received monthly whilst\nin Rome much more than was sufficient to pay his way in the college.\nIt was remarked, however, that the day after he got his money he had\nnot a farthing in his possession, and on inquiry it was found that\nwhat remained from the college pension he distributed regularly among\nthe poor. Dr. Wiseman turned the channel of his charity to a more\nprofitable object, knowing how much he would be imposed on by the\nRoman beggars, and several monuments still look fresh in the chapel of\nthe English College, which were repaired by what remained over and\nabove what was absolutely necessary of his income. It seems as if he\nnever could bear to be the possessor of money; he would scruple having\nit about him. He was known, even when a minister, to draw money out of\nthe bank in Northampton, and give the last sixpence of it to the poor\nbefore he got to Brington.\n\nBefore August, 1830, he received minor orders, and immediately after\nhears the news that Mary Wykes, his housekeeper, has become a\nCatholic. It is a singular fact that she took his conversion so to\nheart that she nearly died, and was yet the first to follow his\nexample. She was delicate in health, of a respectable family in his\nparish, and Mr. Spencer acknowledges that he is under many obligations\nto her father. He settles an annuity of \u00a325 or \u00a330 a year upon her for\nlife, and writes to her from the English College thus: \"Pray to God to\ngive you a tender devotion to her whom He loves above all creatures,\nand who of all creatures is the most pure, amiable, and exalted. I\ndare say you will {211} have found difficulty, as I have done, in\novercoming the prejudices in which we have been brought up against\ndevotion to the Saints of God; but let this very thing make you the\nmore diligent in asking of God to give you that devotion to them which\nHe delights in seeing us cultivate.\"\n\nOn the 13th of March, _Sabbato Sitientis_, 1831, he received the\nSubdiaconate, This is the great step, as Catholics know, in the life\nof one destined for the priesthood. The Subdiaconate imposes perpetual\ncelibacy, with the obligation of daily reciting the divine office, and\nit is then the young cleric is first styled Reverend. It is said that\na few days after his receiving this sacred order, a message was sent\nhim by his family not to become a priest, as it was feared his brother\nwould have no issue, and George was looked to as the only source\nwhence an heir presumptive could arise for the earldom. He simply\nanswered, \"You spoke too late,\" an answer he would have given whether\nor no, as he had long ago determined never to marry. It was at this\ntime also he wrote, at the request of the Bishop of Oppido, the\n_Account of my Conversion_,--a work well known to English readers.\n\n{212}\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nF. Spencer Is Ordained Priest.\n\n\nFather Spencer, ever since he first turned completely to the service\nof God, was determined to do whatever he knew to be more perfect. He\ndid not understand serving God by halves; he thought He deserved to be\nloved with \"all our strength, all our mind, and above all things.\"\nThis he knew to be a precept, a strict command given by our divine\nLord. How it was to be observed was his difficulty. He was groping in\nthe dark hitherto, and though not making many false steps, still far\nfrom clearly seeing his way to perfection. The exactness of Catholic\ntheology, which sifts every question to the last atom, made him meet\nthis one face to face.\n\nThe first difficulty he had to master was the received axiom that _the\nreligious state is more perfect than the secular_. He could not see\nhow a vow, which apparently takes away a man's liberty, could increase\nthe merit of actions done under it. As the vow of obedience is the\nprincipal one in religion, so much so that in some orders subjects are\nprofessed by promising obedience according to the rule, its\nexplanation would remove the difficulty. Two things principally\nconstitute the superiority of _vowed actions_. One, that they must be\nof a better good; the second, that the will is confirmed in the doing\nof them. A vow must be of a good better than another good--such as\ncelibacy better than marriage, poverty better than riches, obedience\nto proper authority better than absolute liberty. The state of\nreligion which takes these three walks of life as essential to its\nconstitution is insomuch better than any other state. But the question\ncomes, why not observe poverty, chastity, and obedience, without\nvowing them? \"Would it not be better that {213} the practice of these\nvirtues should be spontaneous, than that a person should put himself\nunder the moral necessity of not deviating from it? No; because it is\na weak will which reserves to itself the right of refusing to\npersevere in a sacrifice. If a man intends to observe chastity, but\nreserves to himself the right to marry whenever he pleases, he\nsignifies by his state of mind that he may some day repent of his\nchoice, and makes provision for that defalcation. That is a want of\ngenerosity, it is a safety valve by which trusting to God's grace\nescapes, and perfection can never be attained while one has the least\nnotion of the possibility of doing less for God than he does. \"He that\nputs his hand to the plough and turns back is not worthy.\" By a vow, a\nperson not only resolves to do for the present what is perfect, but to\ncontinue doing it for life, and as the person knows right well that\nhis natural strength will not carry him through, he trusts the issue\nto God's goodness. This fixing of the will, and narrowing, as far as\npossible, the range of our liberty, is an assimilation of the present\nstate to the state of the blessed. They do the will of God and cannot\nhelp doing it, they have no liberty of sinning, and the vow of\nobedience by which a man binds himself to do God's will, manifested to\nhim through his superiors or his rule, takes away from him the least\nrational inclination for liberty to sin. Not only that, but he makes\nit a sin to recede from God one step, and he sacrifices to his Creator\na portion of the liberty that is granted to us all. It is a sin for a\nman who has a vow of chastity to marry, though naturally he was\nperfectly free to do so. He sacrificed that freedom to God, and lest\nhe might be inclined to backslide at any future day he put the barrier\nof this moral obligation behind him. The person under vow is God's\npeculiar property; all his actions are in a certain sense sacred, and\nof double merit in His sight. Be it remembered that a religious makes\nthis sacrifice freely, and it is in this free dedication to God's\nservice perpetually of body, soul, and possessions, without reserving\nthe right to claim back anything for self, that the special excellence\nof the religious state consists.\n\n{214}\n\nThere are several other less cogent arguments in favour of the\nreligious state, as that without it we should not have the Evangelical\nvirtues practised which form the principal part of the note of\nholiness in the Church. That it is easier to practice great virtue in\na monastery than in the world, and that more religious have been\ncanonized than seculars since the time of the martyrs.\n\nFather Spencer came to understand that the religious state is more\nperfect than the secular, though he knew that many seculars are far\nmore perfect than some religious, but one point he could never get\nover, and that was since vows undoubtedly do raise the merit of one's\nactions, why cannot people take and observe vows without shutting\nthemselves up within the walls of a convent? He consulted many grave\ntheologians, doctors, and even cardinals, for the solution of this\nproblem. He was told, to be sure, that it was quite possible in the\nabstract to have a people observing vows, but that in practice it\nproved to be chimerical and Utopian. _What is possible can be done_,\nwas his maxim, and he resolved to begin with himself. He was told by\nDr. Wiseman and Cardinal Weld that he seemed to have a religious\nvocation. He wrote accordingly to his diocesan, Dr. Walsh, who\ndissuaded him from becoming a religious by saying that, though it was\na better state, a secular priest could be more useful in England.\nOthers differed from this opinion, but F. Spencer heard in it the\nvoice of his Superior, and resolved to obey it for the present. This\nsettled matters for the time, but his _view_ could never be got out of\nhis head. He gets thoroughly engrossed now with his approaching\nordination. It grieves him to see souls lost in heresy and sin in a\nway that few grieve; for, the concern he felt for the spiritual\ndestitution of his country began to tell upon his health. It is feared\nhe will die; he begins to spit blood, and several consumptive symptoms\nalarm his physicians. He is removed to Fiumicino, and writes a long\nletter from his sick bed there to Mr. Phillipps. In this letter he\nhopes his friend may be caught into the Church like his patron, St.\nAmbrose. Here we have the first evidence of his getting thoroughly\ninto a Catholic way of thinking. {215} Nothing strikes a cold,\ncareful, Catholic, who has been brought up in a Protestant atmosphere,\nso much as the wonderful familiarity of Spanish and Italian boys with\nthe lives of the Saints. They quote a Saint for everything, and they\ncan tell you directly how St. Peter of Alcantara would season his\ndinner, or how St. Rose of Lima would make use of ornaments. Father\nSpencer has paragraphs in every letter at this time full of hints\ntaken from Saints' lives, showing that he evidently gave a great\nportion of his time to learn ascetic theology in these remarkable\nvolumes. He is wishing also that Mr. Digby should become a priest, but\nin both cases he was doomed to be disappointed so far, though both his\nfriends graced, by their virtues, the state of life in which they\nremained. He was ordained Deacon on the 17th December, Quater tense,\n1831; and on the 26th of May, 1832, two years and four months after\nhis reception into the Church, he was ordained Priest by Cardinal\nZurla. He thus writes to Mr. Phillipps on the event: \"I made my\narrangements directly (on being called off suddenly to England) for\nordination to the priesthood on St. Philip Neri's Day, and saying my\nfirst mass on the day following, which was Sunday. How will you\nsympathise with my joy when, in the middle of my retreat, Dr. Wiseman\ntold me, what none of us had observed at first, that the 26th May was\nnot only St. Philip's feast at Rome, but in England that of St.\nAugustine, our Apostle, and that he should ask Cardinal Zurla to\nordain me in St. Gregory's Church, which his Eminence did. It was at\nSt. Gregory's only that we learned from the monks that the next day\nwas the deposition of Venerable Bede.\"\n\nThe coincidences are really remarkable with regard to his destination\nfor the English mission. He was born on the feast of the Apostle St.\nThomas; he arrived in Rome, as a Catholic, on the feast of St.\nGregory; he was ordained on the feast of St. Augustine of Canterbury;\nhe said his first mass of St. Bede, by special leave from the Pope, on\nthat Saint's day. He was ordained by a Cardinal of the Camaldolese\nbranch of the Benedictine Order, to which St. Augustine belonged; and\nhe got the blessing and commission of {216} Pope Gregory XVI., a\nmember of the same order; and under all these auspices set out\ndirectly for England.\n\nDuring his stay in Rome he made the acquaintance of our Father\nDominic. This was a great happiness to him. Father Dominic was on fire\nfor the conversion of England, and Father Spencer echoed back, with\nadditions, every sentiment of his zealous soul. They spoke together,\nthey wrote to each other, they got devout people to pray, and prayed\nthemselves every day, for the conversion of England. We cannot know\nhow far prayers go, we only know that the continual prayer of the just\nman availeth much; and therefore, it might not seem safe reasoning, to\nattribute effects that can be traced to other causes to the prayers of\nsome devout servants of God. Without attempting to assign causes, we\ncannot help remarking the fact that these two holy souls began to\npray, and enlist others in praying, for England's conversion in 1832,\nand that the first number of the \"Tracts for the Times\" appeared\nbefore the end of 1833. Neither of them had anything to do with the\nTracts, if we except a few letters from Father Dominic in a Belgian\nnewspaper, as writers or suggestors of matter; but both took a deep\ninterest in them, and fed their hopes, as each appeared more Catholic\nthan the one before. He spends a week with Father Dominic in Lucca, on\nhis way to England, and in Geneva happened one of those interesting\nevents with which his life was chequered. He thus tells it in a letter\nto the _Catholic Standard_ in 1853:--\n\n  \"I went one day, at Genoa (see Chap. IX., Bk. i.), in 1820, to see\n  the great relics in the treasury of the Cathedral. Relics, indeed,\n  were little to me; but to get at these, three keys from various\n  first-rate dignitaries, ecclesiastical and civil, were necessary.\n  This was enough to make a young English sight-seer determined to get\n  at them. A young priest, the sacristan of the Cathedral, received me\n  and the party I had made up to accompany me, and showed us the\n  precious treasures. I did nothing but despise; and yet why should I,\n  or other Protestants, look on it as a kind of impossibility that any\n  relic can be genuine? However, so I did; and I let the sacristan\n  plainly know it. Yet he was not vexed. Nay, he treated {217} me with\n  great affection, and said, among other things, 'The English are a\n  worthy, good people, _brava nazione_; if only it had not been for\n  that moment, that unhappy moment!' 'What moment do you mean?' said\n  I. 'Ah! surely,' he replied, 'when Henry VIII. resolved on revolting\n  against the Church.' I did not answer, but I thought within myself,\n  'Poor man, what ignorance! what infatuation! And what were my\n  thoughts of that moment of which he spoke? My thoughts on this head\n  had been formed in my young days, and, oh! how deep are first young\n  thoughts allowed to take firm root undisturbed! When I was a\n  child\"----\n\nHere he relates the discourse of his sisters' governess about the\nEnglish Reformation, given in a former chapter. \"When, accordingly,\nthe Genoese priest thus spoke I thought, Poor, blind man! little he\nknows what England gained at that same moment for which he pities it.\n... I cannot but add to this last circumstance, that twelve years\nlater I was returning from Rome--a priest! I came by sea. Stopping one\nday in the harbour of Genoa, I went on shore to say mass at the\nCathedral, and found the same priest still at the head of the\nsacristy--the same benign features I saw, but somewhat marked with\nage. I asked him did he remember and recognise the young English\ndisputer? _O altitudo_! .... And is it I whom they would expect to\ngive up my poor countrymen for hopeless? No! leave this to others, who\nhave not tasted like me the fruits of the tender mercies of God.\"\n\nAs soon as he arrived in England, he went to see his family, who were\nin Ryde for the summer, according to their custom. He was cordially\nwelcomed; but it must seem a cold thing for a newly-ordained priest to\ncome to a home where not a brother or sister would kneel to get his\nblessing, nor father nor mother be in ecstacy of joy at hearing him\nsay mass for the first time. This was in July, 1832. Early in August\nhe met several priests at Sir Edward Doughty's, Upton House,\nDorsetshire; and Lady Doughty says:--\"Mr. Spencer greatly edified all\nwho then met him by his humility, fervour, and earnest desire for the\nconversion of England. On the 11th of August he left Upton, {218}\naccompanied by Dr. Logan, for Prior Park. On that morning, as the\ncoach from Poole passed at an early hour, Mr. Spencer engaged one of\nthe men servants to serve his mass at five o'clock. The servant went\nto call him soon after four, but finding the room apparently\nundisturbed, he proceeded to the little domestic chapel, and there he\nfound Mr. Spencer prostrate before the altar in fervent prayer, and he\nthen rose and said mass; the servant's conviction being, that he had\nbeen there in prayer all night.\"\n\nAn incident occurred, as Father Spencer was passing through Bordeaux\non his way to England, which deserves especial mention, if only to\nrecall the droll pleasure he used to experience himself, and create in\nothers, while relating it. He met there a great, big, fat convert, who\nhad just made his abjuration and been baptised. Father Spencer\nquestioned him about his first communion, and the trouble of preparing\nhimself \"in his then state of body\" seemed an awful exertion. However,\nafter a great deal of what the gentleman termed \"painful goading,\"\nFather Spencer succeeded in bringing him to the altar. The fat\ngentleman sat him down afterwards to melt in the shade of a midsummer\nJune day in Bordeaux, grumbling yet delighted at the exertion he had\nmade. The Bishop of Bordeaux was giving confirmation in some of the\nchurches in the town, and Father Spencer thought he should not lose\nthe opportunity of getting his fat friend to the sacrament. He knew\nhow hateful exertion of any kind was to the neophyte, who, though he\nbelieved all the Catholic doctrines in a kind of a heap, was not\nover-inclined for works of supererogation. He resolved to do what he\ncould. He went to him, and boldly told him that he ought to prepare\nhimself for confirmation. \"What!\" exclaimed the gentleman, making an\neffort to yawn, \"have I not done yet? Is there more to be got through\nbefore I am a perfect Catholic? Oh, dear!\" And he moved himself. He\nwas brought through, however, to the no small inconvenience of himself\nand others, and many was the moral Father Ignatius pointed afterwards\nwith this first essay of his in missionary work.\n\n{219}\n\nAt Prior Park, Father Spencer met Dr. Walsh, and he was appointed to\nbegin a new mission in West Bromwich; he sets about it immediately,\nand gets an altar for it from Lord Dormer in Walsall. He met Dr.\nWiseman, who came to England about this time, and they are both\ninvited by Earl Spencer to spend a day at Althorp. The Earl was\ncharmed with Dr. Wiseman, and Father Spencer exclaims, in a letter,\n\"What a grand point was this! A Catholic priest, and a D.D., rector of\na Catholic college, received with distinction at a Protestant\nnobleman's!\" He met some of his old parishioners, and was welcomed by\nthem with love and kind remembrances. His church in West Bromwich was\nopened on the 21st November, 1832, and he was settled down as a\nCatholic pastor near where he hunted as a Protestant layman, and\npreached heresy as a Protestant minister.\n\n{220}\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nF. Spencer Begins His Missionary Life.\n\n\nFar different is the position on which Mr. Spencer enters towards the\nclose of 1832, from that which he was promoted to in 1825. Then he\ntook the cure of souls with vague notions of his precise duty; now he\ntook the cure of souls as a clearly defined duty, for the fulfilment\nof which he knew he should render a severe account. Then he received a\nlarge income from the bare fact of his being put in possession of his\npost; now he has to expend even what he has in trying to provide a\nplace of worship for his flock. Then, there were eight hundred souls\nunder his charge, most of them wealthy and comfortable, and all\nlooking up to him with respect for being his father's son; now he\ncould scarcely count half that number as his own, scattered among\nhovels and garrets; amid their more opulent neighbours, who mocked him\nfor being a priest. He then dwelt with pleasure on his rich benefice,\nand on the rising walls of his handsome rectory; now he prayed the\nbishop to put him into the poorest mission in the diocese, and\ndelighted in being housed like the poor. The life he led as a priest\nin West Bromwich is worthy of the ancient solitaries. He began by\nplacing all his property in the bishop's hands, and his lordship\nappointed an _Econome_, who gave him now and again such sums as he\nneeded to keep himself alive, give something to the poor, and supply\nhis church with necessaries. He keeps an account of every farthing he\nspends, and shows it to the Bishop at the end of the quarter, to see\nif his lordship approves, or wishes anything to be retrenched for the\nfuture. His ordinary course of life was--rise at six, {221} Meditation\nOffice and Mass, hear some confessions, and, after breakfast, at ten,\ngo out through the parish until six, when he came home to dinner, and\nspent the time that was left till supper in instructing catechumens,\nreading, praying, or writing. He had no luxuries, no comforts, he\nscarcely allowed himself any recreation, except in doing pastoral\nwork. He leaves two rooms of his little house unfurnished, and says he\nhas something else to do with the money that might be thus spent. Much\nas he loved Mr. Phillipps, he did not go to see him after his\nmarriage, because he thought it was not necessary to spend money in\nthat way which could alleviate the poverty of a parishioner; and\nbecause he did not like to be a day absent from his parish work as\nlong as God gave him strength. During the first year of his residence\nat West Bromwich he opens three schools; one of them had been a\npork-shop, and was bought for him by a Catholic tradesman. Here he\nused to come and lecture once or twice a week, and is surprised and\npleased to find a well-ordered assembly ready to listen to him. He\nsays in a letter at this time: \"I go to bed weary every night, and\nenjoy my sleep more than great people do theirs; for it is the sleep\nof the labourer.\" He is rather sanguine in his hopes of converting\nProtestants; but, although he receives a good many into the Church, he\nfinds error more difficult to root out than he imagined. He bears up,\nhowever, and a letter to Mr. Phillipps will tell us what he thought;\nhe says: \"Keep England's conversion always next your heart. It is no\nsmall matter to overturn a dynasty so settled and rooted as that of\nerror in this country; and how are we possibly to expect that we shall\nbe made instruments to effect this, unless we become in some measure\nconformable to the characters of the Saints who have done such things\nbefore us? Yet let us not give up the undertaking, for as, on the one\nhand, no one has succeeded without wonderful labour and patience, so,\non the other, none ever has failed when duly followed up. Let us not\nbe discouraged by opposition, but work the more earnestly: and as we\nsee people about some hard bodily exertion begin with their clothes\non, but, when they find {222} the difficulty of their job, strip first\nthe coat, then the waistcoat, then turn up their sleeves, and so on,\nwe must do the same. God does not give success at once, because He\nwishes us better than to remain as we are, fettered and attached to\nthe world. If we succeeded before all this encumbrance is stripped\noff, we should certainly not get rid of it afterwards.\" He did \"turn\nup his sleeves,\" and toil, no doubt, at converting his neighbours; he\nopened a new mission in Dudley towards the Christmas of 1833; he first\nbegan in an old warehouse, which he fitted up with a chapel and seats,\nand turned one or two little houses adjoining into a sacristy and\nsitting-room for the priest who might come there to officiate.\n\nHe goes on in this even course for the whole of the two first years of\nhis life in West Bromwich, without any striking event to bring one\npart more prominently forward than another. His every day work was\nnot, however, all plain sailing; in proportion as his holiness of life\nincreased the reverence Catholics began to conceive for him, it\nprovoked the persecution and contempt of the Protestants. He was\npensive generally, and yet had a keen relish for wit and humour. He\nwas one day speaking with a brother priest in his sacristy, with sad\nearnestness, about the spiritual destitution of the poor people around\nhim, who neither knew God, nor would listen to those who were willing\nto teach them. A poor woman knocked at the sacristy door, and was\nordered to come in; she fell on her knees very reverently, to get\nFather Spencer's blessing, as soon as she approached him. His\ncompanion observed that this poor woman reminded him of the mother of\nthe sons of Zebedee, who came to Our Saviour _adorans_. \"Yes,\" replied\nFather Spencer, with a very arch smile, \"and not only _adorans_, but\n_petens aliquid ah eo_\" Such was his usual way; he would season his\ndiscourse on the most important subject--even go a little out of his\nway for that purpose--with a pointed anecdote, or witty remark.\n\nAll did not feel inclined to follow the old woman's example in the\nfirst part of the above scene, though many were led {223} to do so\nthrough their love and practice of the second. A person sent us the\nfollowing letter, who still lives on the spot that was blessed by this\nholy priest's labours, and as it bears evidence to some of the\nstatements we have made from other sources, it may be well to give it\ninsertion:--\n\n  \"I was one of his first converts at West Bromwich, and a fearful\n  battle I had; but his sublime instructions taught me how to pray for\n  the grace of God to guide me to his true Church. He was ever\n  persecuted, and nobly overcame his enemies. I remember one morning\n  when he was going his accustomed rounds to visit the poor and sick,\n  he had to pass a boys' school, at Hill Top; they used to hoot after\n  him low names, but, seeing he did not take any notice, they came\n  into the road and threw mud and stones at him; he took no notice.\n  Then they took hold of his coat, and ripped it up the back. He did\n  not mind, but went on all day, as usual, through Oldbury, Tipton\n  Oudley, and Hill Top, visiting his poor people. He used to leave\n  home every morning, and fill his pockets with wine and food for the\n  poor sick, and return home about six in the evening, without taking\n  any refreshment all day, though he might have walked twenty miles in\n  the heat of summer. One winter's day he gave all his clothes away to\n  the poor, except those that were on him. He used to say two Masses\n  on Sunday, in West Bromwich, and preach. I never saw him use a\n  conveyance of any kind in his visits through his parish.\"\n\nIt could not be expected that the newspapers would keep silence about\nhim. He gets a little in that way, which he writes about, as\nfollow:--\"Eliot (an apostate) has been writing in divers quarters that\nI know of, and I dare say in many others (for he was very fond of\nletter-writing), the most violent abuse of the Catholic Church, and of\nall her priests, excepting me, whom he pities as a wretched victim of\npriest-craft. I still hope there is some strange infatuation about him\nwhich may dissipate, and let him return; but if not, the Church has\nramparts enough to stand his battering, and I am not afraid of my\nlittle castle being shaken by him. I feel desirous rather than not\nthat he should publish the {224} worst he can about me and mine in the\nProtestant papers. It will help to correct us of some faults, and\nbring to light, perhaps, at the same time, something creditable to our\ncause.\"\n\nHe must have felt the extraordinary change in his state of mind and\nduty now to what he experienced some four or five years before. There\nare no doubts about doctrines, nor difficulties about Dissenters; his\nway is plain and clear, without mist or equivocal clause; there is but\none way for Catholics of being united with heretics--their\nunconditional submission to the Church. There is no going half-way to\nmeet them, or sacrificing of principles to soothe their scruples;\neither all or none--the last definition of the Council of Trent, as\nwell as the first article of the Apostles' Creed. If he has\ndifficulties about any matter, he will not find Bishops giving him\nshifting answers, and seemingly ignorant themselves of what is the\nreceived interpretation of a point of faith. He will be told at once\nby the next priest what is the doctrine of the Church, and if he\nrefuses to assent to it he ceases to be a Catholic. This looks an iron\nrule in the Church of God, and those outside her cannot understand how\nits very unbending firmness consoles the doubtful, cheers the\ndesponding, strengthens the will and expands and nourishes the\nintellect.\n\nA priest has many consolations in his little country parish that few\ncan understand or appreciate. It is not the number and efficiency of\nhis schools, the round of his visits, or the frequency of his\ninstructions. No; it is the offering of the Victim of Salvation every\nmorning for his own and his people's sins, and it is the conveying the\nprecious blood of his Saviour to their souls, through the Sacraments\nhe administers. Only a priest can understand what it is to feel that a\ncreature kneels before him, steeped in vice and sin, and, after a good\nconfession, rises from his knees, restored to God's grace and\nfriendship. All his labours have this one object--the putting of his\npeople into the grace of God, and keeping them in it until they reach\nto their reward. There is a reality in all this which faith alone can\ngive that makes {225} him taste and feel the good he is doing. A\nreality that will make him fly without hesitation to the pestilential\ndeathbed, and glory in inhaling a poison that may end his own days, in\nthe discharge of his duty. He must be ever ready to give his life for\nhis sheep, not in fancy or in words, but in very deed, and thus seal\nby his martyrdom both the truth which he professes, and his love for\nthe Master whom he has been chosen to serve.\n\nThe number of priests who die every year, and the average of a\nmissionary priest's life, prove but too clearly how often the\nsacrifice is accepted.\n\n\n{226}\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nProspects Of Widening His Sphere Of Action.\n\n\nTowards the close of the year 1834, Earl Spencer died. George, of\ncourse, felt it deeply; he loved his father with, if possible, more\nthan filial affection, for he could look up since his childhood to his\npaternal example; and all the virtue he was able to practise during\nhis younger days, despite the occasions into which he was cast, he\nattributed chiefly to the influence of his father's authority. The\ncountry lost a statesman, and the Catholics an advocate in the noble\nearl; his death was therefore regretted by more than his immediate\nfamily; but there was one great reason why his son felt so deeply--his\nfather had not died a Catholic. There were many things to make up for\nhis exclusion from the _mementoes_ of his son in the mass, as not\nbeing one of those _qui nos praecesserunt cum signo fidei_; such as,\nhis real natural goodness, his acting up to his lights, and his kind\ntreatment of his son; but they were, of course, poor, weak\nassuagements to the stern fact that he could not pray publicly for the\nrepose of his soul, and only, by the merest conditional permission,\neven privately. Father Spencer goes shortly after to Althorp. The new\nearl thinks proper to prohibit his brother speaking to any except\nthose of his own rank while visiting there. He had, of course, his\nreasons, but it was a sore trial to Father Spencer, who ever loved the\npoor, and never felt so happy as when exercising his patience in\nlistening to the detailed account of their sufferings, or in trying to\nrelieve them by words or alms. He put up with it, and a _thank God_\nsoon made him at home amid lords and ladies for the time of his short\nstay.\n\n{227}\n\nIt may strike some person as a very strange thing that this\nillustrious convert and great saint, as he really was and appeared to\nbe, should be shut up in a poor hamlet whose name does not appear even\non railway maps, and not located in some resort of pride and fashion.\nBut the Honourable and Reverend George Spencer had seen enough of\nfashion and gentility to be thoroughly disgusted with both the one and\nthe other. He understood no way of going to heaven except that which\nOur Lord pointed out to us and went Himself first for us to follow,\nthe way of the cross in poverty and humility. Hence he applied to\nBishop Walsh for the poorest and worst mission in the diocese. If one\nwill not be inclined to give this good Bishop credit for forwarding\nthe apostolical intentions of his young priest, let him know that\nthere might be also a more inferior motive why he should accede to his\nrequest. Priests with private incomes can better subsist in poor\nmissions than those who depend on the charity of their flocks; and we\nfind at present that many, who have property of their own, are\nappointed, notwithstanding the honourable and creditable prefixes to\ntheir names, to missions which are not able to support a priest from\ntheir internal resources. These two reasons put together will account\nfor the placing of the Hon. and Rev. George Spencer in the mission of\nWest Bromwich.\n\nSt. Thomas defines zeal, \"an intense love by which one is moved\nagainst and repels whatever is detrimental to the good of his friend,\nand does his best to prevent whatever is against the honour or the\nwill of God.\" Alphonsus Rodrigues says: \"It is the love of God on\nfire, and a vehement desire that He should be loved, honoured, and\nadored by all; and so intense is it, that he who burns therewith tries\nto communicate its heat to every one.\" This effect of zeal is the\nspecial gleam by which the shining of great saints can be\ndistinguished from ordinary servants of God. They are filled with the\nlove of God, they overflow with it, and dash off floods that sweep\ndown vice and sin by their impetuosity. When obstacles occur to show\nthat the time is not opportune, or that the sluices should not yet be\ndrawn, the saints are far from languishing into ordinary ways. No; the\nsprings are open afresh, their hearts are filling the more {228} they\nare pent up, and seek avenues on every side and in every way in which\nthey may possibly allow some heavenly water to escape. Such was the\nzeal of St. Chrysostom, who would be blind if his audience could but\nsee. Such was the love of St. Francis Xavier, who went through unknown\nand almost inaccessible regions to convert the heathen. Such was the\nlove of St. Teresa, who sighed that she was not a man, because her sex\nand state forbade her to be an apostle. Such was the Psalmist, when he\nsaid, \"The zeal of Thy house has eaten me up.\"\n\nThe difference between heavenly zeal and fanaticism is, that one is\nwilling to be directed, the other breaks the bonds of authority. One\nacts sweetly and consistently, the other intemperately and rashly. One\ndistrusts self, the other begins and ends with self.\n\nFather Spencer was full of zeal. It was, in fact, his zeal that\nbrought him into the Church. Now that he found himself commissioned to\npropagate God's kingdom, his zeal arose to that of the saints, and\nbegan to burst forth and devise means by which that kingdom could be\nspeedily and perfectly spread. He devised plans for the sanctification\nof the clergy by introducing a kind of religious life amongst them; he\nformed plans for the perfection of the laity, after an old but\nabandoned model, which will be described; he had conceived plans of\nfounding a religious institute, of which a devout soul he knew was to\nbe first rev. mother; he had plans of preaching, away at some place or\nplaces which he does not tell us about; he had plans for finding out\nthe secret by which the Jesuits became such successful missionaries;\nhe had plans of going to Cambridge for an installation, and bearding\nthe lion of heresy and error in his very den;--and all these he\nproposed from time to time to his director and diocesan superior, but\nall met the one fate of being drowned by the cold water thrown upon\nthem. He complains a little, in a letter he wrote at this time, of\n\"the slowness of Catholic prelates with regard to schemes;\" but after\nbeing told to lay them aside, he resigns himself with perfect\nsubmission. He finds out, in a short time, that the Catholic prelates\nwere right, and he drops his wings completely, by saying: \"I am\nresolved to give up forming plans {229} for the future, and I shall\ntry to gain more love of God and devotion to the Blessed Virgin. This\nagain He must give me, and Mary must gain it for me; or rather, I must\ncharge her to persevere in making this request for me, whether I\nforget it occasionally or not.\" Besides the crossing of his plans, he\nhas another cross to endure; he loves to visit Hagley, where Lady\nLyttelton, his sister, generally lived, and he is received only on\ncondition that he will not speak of religion. This he feels hard, as\nhe loved this sister very much, and thought he could not show a\ngreater proof of his affection than that of communicating to her, if\npossible, what he prized more than his life--his faith.\n\nOne plan he forms, however, which does not meet with the disapproval\nof his superiors, and that was, to go to London and beg among his\naristocratic friends for funds for a new church he intended building\nat Dudley. He seems to have succeeded pretty well, as there is a nice\ngothic church there at present, which was built by him. We have only\none peculiar incident of his first begging tour.\n\nHe took it into his head to go and ask a subscription of the Duchess\nof Kent, mother to our Queen. He was received kindly by the Duchess,\nand the Princess Victoria was allowed to be present at the\nconversation. Father Spencer spoke for some time about the lamentable\nstate of England, on account of its religious divisions; he gave a\nshort account of his own conversion, and wound up by putting forward\nthe claims of the Catholic Church to the obedience of all Christians,\nas there ought to be but one fold under one shepherd. It may be said\nthat he formed a very favourable opinion of the Princess from this\nmeeting; he said once, when relating the story: \"I considered the\nPrincess very sensible and thoughtful. She listened with great\nattention to everything I said, and maintained a respectful silence,\nbecause she sat beside her mother. I had great hopes of her then, and\nso far they have not been disappointed. I hope ye will all pray for\nher, and we may one day have the pleasure of seeing her a Catholic.\"\nThis he said in 1863, and then he was firmly convinced that the\nDuchess herself had died a Catholic.\n\nHe returned soon to his mission in West Bromwich, and {230} writes, in\na letter to Mr. Phillipps: \"I had a project in my head when I\nreturned, more extensive than any that filled it of late. That is,\ngoing to Dublin to see if there I might find some unknown mine out of\nwhich I could draw what I want for Dudley. This soon grew into the\nthought of a tour round Ireland, and the subject of collecting alms\nfor Dudley soon began to look trivial and secondary. I could hardly\ncontain myself at the thoughts of preaching all over Ireland the\nconversion of England, and exhorting them all to forget their earthly\nmiseries in the view of our spiritual ones, and to begin to retaliate\nthe evils they have endured in the way of the true Christian, not by\nviolent opposition, but by rendering good a thousandfold, or rather\nbeyond reckoning.\" This scheme was put off for some time, by the\nadvice of the Rev. Mr. Martyn, who seems to have been his director.\n\nIn the beginning of August, 1835, Father Spencer got a severe attack\nof illness: it proceeded principally from over-exertion. He began to\nspit blood, and as soon as his friends heard of it, his sister, Lady\nLyttelton, and his brother-in-law, Lord George Quin, came for him and\ntook him to Hagley, where he might be carefully nursed until he should\nrecover. They set him down to say mass in Stourbridge, and allowed him\nall the spiritual aid he wished for, even going so far as to invite a\npriest to come and stay with him, and make Hagley his home for the\ntime. This was in keeping with their usual kindness, and Father\nSpencer never forgot it; nay, he would treasure up the least act of\nkindness done him by any one, much more so when received from those\nwho differed from him in religious matters. He writes now, apparently\nunder the shadow of death: one thing looks strange to him when he\nthinks of dying, that he cannot see why God gives him such a strong\ndesire for an apostolic life if it be not sometime carried into\neffect. \"It may be that He will give me the merit of the desires\nwithout their accomplishment, but this seems less probable. His will\nbe done. I only mention this to prevent your being discouraged on my\naccount. What is an illness in His sight? It is easier to restore me\nmy vigour than at first to give it to me. Let us only wait prepared\nfor quick {231} obedience to His call, whether for this world or the\nnext.\" In another letter, written about the same time, he says: \"What\nI am further to do must be decided by my present _bodily_ director,\nDr. Johnstone, to whom for my correction and humiliation the Bishop\nhas committed me.\"\n\nIt seems most likely that he wrote the autobiography during this\nillness; it has the marks and tokens of his then state of mind upon\nthe first part of it at least.\n\nAfter his recovery there is talk of his being made a bishop, and some\nof his friends are doing their best, by writing and so forth, to help\nhis promotion to the mitre. No better idea can be given of the way he\nfelt with regard to this matter, than by introducing a letter he wrote\nat the time to one of his friends:\n\n  \"I know you are as eager about everything that concerns me as about\n  your own matters; and that you are now boiling to come and be busy\n  about this most interesting affair. Yet it will prove better to go\n  on quietly. To be sure I should exult if it please God of His own\n  will to enlarge my powers and faculties of advancing His kingdom,\n  trusting to Him to furnish me with graces sufficient; but the call\n  must be clear, and His will manifest, or, I thank God, I have made\n  up my mind to answer, I stir not. And how can I know this but by the\n  rule of obedience? Many reasons strike me _pro_ and _con_.\n  immediately; but these I had better not meditate upon. I shall leave\n  it to Dr. Walsh to decide whether I accept or do not. I cannot be\n  right any other way. If he chooses to hear me plead the cause for\n  myself, stating what I think are the motives _pro_ and _con_., I\n  will do it when he likes; if not, it is certainly better not to go\n  against him. I was at Prior Park three years ago, when Dr. Baines\n  knows that I refused the offer of an Irish clergyman to propose me\n  for an Irish bishopric, on Dr. Walsh's judgment, and he approved of\n  that decision. No doubt he will of this.\"\n\nWe hear nothing further of this, so it is likely Dr. Walsh judged it\nproper for him to refuse the contemplated honour.\n\n{232}\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nNewspaper Discussions, Etc.\n\n\nFrom the end of the year 1835 to the middle of 1836, Father Spencer\nwas more or less engaged in newspaper controversy with some ministers.\nThe first champion of Protestantism, or rather assailant of\nCatholicism, he condescended to argue with was a Mr. Gideon Ouseley.\nThis gentleman is described in a letter written at the time as a \"Low\nChurch parson, or Methodist, of Armagh.\" There may be some distinction\nbetween the two characters, but it is only fair to say that we freely\ngrant him the benefit of the doubt. They had a paper fight about the\nusual topics of controversy, beginning with mis-statements of doctrine\nfrom Mr. Ouseley and explanations from Mr. Spencer, and continuing\nthrough a very brisk parrying of logical thrusts to a conclusion which\nended by the newspaper refusing to insert any more letters. Some good\neffects may have been produced by the controversy, which seldom\nhappens, and also some breaches of charity; but there is one\ncircumstance worthy to be mentioned, though perhaps it cannot well be\ntraced back to _The Watchman_ newspaper, that this same Rev. Gideon\nOuseley is, at the time these pages are writing, the officiating\nchaplain of the _soi-disant_ monks of Norwich, Br. Ignatius and his\ncompanions.\n\nThe next adversary was a Mr. Dalton. Father Spencer expends some very\ngood arguments on him, among others, the following in the first\nletter: \"You and other Protestants may say that they consider this\ndoctrine (transubstantiation) unscriptural; but the arguments by which\nyou endeavour to impugn it never are scriptural. I once used to argue\nagainst it myself, and the best arguments I could find were from {233}\nreason.\" There may be fault found with this argument, because a thing\ncould be unscriptural, though its denial or refutation were not; but\nF. Spencer establishes the positive side of the question afterwards.\nAnd the argument was good thus far that its denial is an Article of\nthe 39, which should be proved by \"sure warranty of Scripture.\" He\ndoes so in a passage which begins thus: \"If Scripture be appealed to\nsimply, I know not how any one can deny that it speaks altogether in\nour favour, whenever the Eucharist is mentioned or alluded to. When we\nare asked for proofs of our doctrine we invariably begin by an appeal\nto the simple words of Christ given in Scripture. 'This is my body,'\n'This is my blood,' which, taken as they stand, can agree with no\ndoctrine but the Catholic.\"\n\nF. Spencer thought he had a gentleman to deal with in his adversary,\nbut found that he had overrated the attributes his charity supposed\nhim to possess. He pointed an argument upon the unity of our teachers\nas contradistinguished from sectarian ones, by bringing in Mr. Dalton\nand his brother us an example. At this Dalton took offence, and F.\nSpencer made a most ample and beautiful apology. This evoked all the\nbile of his opponent in a flourish of trumpets, by which he boasted of\na post relinquished in the argument, which really argued gain in F.\nSpencer as a Christian antagonist. He flung out then in glorious\nconfusion--imperfect councils, bad popes, Spanish inquisitions, just\nas they came to hand. When Spencer saw this, he thought of answering\nhim according to his folly, and instead of analyzing his \"concentrated\nlozenge,\" wrote something in the style of cudgelling him for the fun\nof the thing next time. Here is an extract from his next letter, which\nis produced more as a specimen of his humour than of his logic:--\n\nA sentence of Mr. Dalton's letter ran thus:\n\n  \"But let me first remind you what our view of private judgment is.\n  Do we mean that every man may set up as an interpreter of Scripture,\n  that every shoemaker and ploughman (as Catholics say) may become a\n  preacher? By no means; we recognise authority when it is scriptural,\n  and believe that an authorized ministry is God's mode of extending\n  the Bible.\"\n\n{234}\n\nFather Spencer replies:--\n\n  \"Now this sentence suggests so many reflections to me that I hardly\n  know which way to begin with it. I will first try what a little\n  paraphrase will do, and explain what I think might perchance have\n  been in your mind when you wrote it, and you may tell me whether I\n  am near the mark before I make further comments on it. I would\n  figure you to myself as reasoning thus with your self:--The right of\n  private judgment must be maintained in some form, or else even we\n  ministers shall not be able to stand our ground against the\n  Romanists. If we allow of any reasonable notion of Church authority\n  when we talk to them, they will hook us up again, and we shall not\n  be able to assert even our own liberty to interpret as we like. But,\n  on the other hand, if we put away talking of Church authority when\n  we mount our pulpits, and impart the word to our hitherto obedient\n  poor followers, they will begin to ask themselves, what need, then,\n  is there of our reverend guides? Why should we pay any more tithes,\n  and seat rents, and church rates, and Easter offerings, and the\n  like? Yea! then would be sad danger that our craft would come to be\n  set at nought, and the Temple of Great Diana (the Church of Great\n  Elizabeth) would be reputed for nothing, and therefore we must teach\n  people that there is such a thing as ministerial authority at least,\n  if we cannot make much of an attempt to prove ecclesiastical\n  authority; we must take care to maintain that to be capable of being\n  a minister, a man must be able to read the New Testament in Greek,\n  and the Old in Hebrew, at least, have a smattering of Hebrew, or\n  else we shall have shoemakers and plough-men setting up opposition\n  without being able to put them down; for they will be able to match\n  us in what we must hold forth as the grand proof of the ministry,\n  viz., that a man should be able to quote texts at pleasure, and talk\n  about them so rapidly and unintelligibly as to make a congregation\n  think him mighty wise and deeply spiritual. Such are the men who\n  must be proclaimed worthy of great honour and admiration, but, above\n  all, of ample revenues. Never mind how many contradictory systems\n  enter into their respective reverend heads, we must persuade the\n  {235} people, as long as they will swallow it, that they all speak\n  by the Holy Ghost. It would, indeed, be more according to Scripture\n  and reason, if all who professed to be led by the Spirit taught one\n  doctrine; but this we can never bring about, unless we all get back\n  to popery: and, indeed, it is not needful, nor even expedient, for\n  the purpose we have before us, which is not to speak sound words\n  which cannot be reproved, but such words as will keep together our\n  congregation, and suit their tastes. Now as the tastes of men are so\n  various, it is absolutely necessary that the doctrines we give them\n  should vary too, and, therefore, as we know that Bible truth is but\n  one, and the Bible, nevertheless, is the book out of which we must\n  all pretend to teach, we cannot sufficiently praise the cleverness\n  of those gifted individuals, who, by organizing a sort of\n  skirmishing ministry, to take the place of the old uniform heavy\n  phalanx of the Romanists, one fit _to extend the truth of the\n  Bible_, so as to suit the tastes of all sorts of men, have enabled\n  so many of us to extract from the pockets of all a genteel\n  maintenance for our wives and families. I have in this paraphrase\n  found myself obliged to pass over one word when you speak of _God's_\n  mode of _extending_ the truth of the Bible. This operation, I think,\n  God had never anything to do with. I believe that 1,800 years ago,\n  God did, by his only Son, institute a ministry as his mode of\n  _preserving_ the truth of the Bible, but _extending_ the truth of\n  the Bible is a very different sort of affair. These words, though\n  rather obscure, yet seem to convey very felicitiously the idea of\n  what the Gospel ministers of the present day have accomplished, that\n  is, making the Bible truth so extensive as to embrace all the\n  various contradictory systems--Church of England, High, Low,\n  Evangelical, _et hoc genus omne_. But the time would fail me to tell\n  a tenth part of the glorious variety which the spiritual bill of\n  fare of the nineteenth century presents to the dainty taste of our\n  countrymen. This plan of truth extension is a wonder which was\n  reserved for the wisdom of our preachers to contrive and to\n  develope, under the guidance of a wiser spirit than that of man, and\n  yet certainly not the spirit of God. The ancient saints had no {236}\n  more idea of it than Archimedes had of a hydraulic press. I have\n  taken the liberty of playing upon your exposition of authority, to\n  show how vain it is to attempt to uphold anything like a legitimate\n  authority, and the right of private judgment together. I do not\n  wonder that you got rather into a perplexity in trying to explain\n  how they may be reconciled. The Church of England has tried to\n  explain this matter in her 20th Article, but finds it too hard. She\n  just says, 'the Church hath authority in controversies of faith,'\n  but leaves it to her children to guess whether this authority be\n  divine or human, infallible or fallible, granted her by the King of\n  Heaven or the king of England. She intimates, indeed, that it is not\n  quite to be depended on, by the next words, in which it is said, 'it\n  is not lawful for the Church to ordain anything contrary to God's\n  word written:' but again we are left to divine who the judge is, who\n  is to keep the Church in order: is it the king, or every licensed\n  preacher, or every single Christian? ..... Ah! these Articles are\n  troublesome things. I have known what it is to be under those\n  shackles, and what it is to be set free from them.\"\n\nIn the next letter, his opponent complains that Father Spencer has\n_hurt his feelings_, and made his _heart sicken_, which complaint the\n_wily priest_, as he was termed, began to answer thus:--\n\n  \"I have heard of certain ladies who have recourse to a method\n  something like this to escape being kept in order by their husbands,\n  and who silence everything that is said against their humours by\n  falling into hysterics. A tender husband will once or twice perhaps\n  be melted by the alarming spectacle; he will run and fetch the\n  smelling-bottle, ring for the servants, beg pardon, and say pretty\n  things to compose his dear partner's mind again. But when he finds\n  that as soon as she has gained her point she gets well directly, and\n  is more saucy and wilful than before--if he wishes to be happy, or\n  to make her so--he will be what she calls cruel next time, and let\n  her get well by herself till she is tired of fainting fits. Now,\n  sir, I have once been tender-hearted over you .... I apologized ....\n  {237} In the next letter you took advantage of this to make an\n  impertinent remark. This discovered to me that your feelings need\n  not be so tenderly dealt with, and I proceeded with my disagreeable\n  questions, and shall still do so at the risk of your telling me in\n  the next letter that I have not only sickened you, but made you\n  quite faint away.\"\n\nAfter thus sickening his delicate friend, he sums up in the last\nletter and answers the difficulties objected to him very well indeed.\nWe forbear introducing purely controversial matter, except in as far\nas it bears upon the peculiar gifts or manner of Father Spencer. There\nis nothing but what any ordinary priest of fair acquirements could\nhave said in defence of our doctrines in the remainder, except that\nthe answer to the hackneyed objection about some councils being of\ndoubtful authority is very clearly and forcibly given.\n\nA third champion entered the lists before these had been \"conquered\"\nenough to think themselves qualified \"to argue still.\" This was a Rev.\nW. Riland Bedford. Indeed, he was so impatient of distinguishing\nhimself by the honour of having once engaged with so respectable a\nfoe, that he could not wait until Mr. Dalton was ousted. Besides, it\nis very likely he thought Mr. Dalton was missing fine opportunities of\ngiving clever strokes, by spending too much time in quarrelling with\nthe ungenerous hits of his adversary or, perhaps, he thought he did\nnot take the proper instruments of warfare. However, he made a grand\nstroke, and aimed also at what he believed to be the most vulnerable,\nas well as the most defenceless, spot in the person of F. Spencer's\nsystem. Here we might be corrected by the _Maid of Lille_, who said,\nvery pertly, to Mr. Spencer once: \"Catholics have no systems.\" They\nhave doctrines. At all events, Mr. Riland Bedford did attack F.\nSpencer, and lest he might lose by being single-handed, a brace of\nthem--Revs. Messrs. M'Ghee and himself--made an onslaught on Revs.\nMessrs. M'Donnel and Spencer, thereby intending, of course, to make a\ngrand breach in Popery. The subject of their letters was the treating\nof certain sins by our moral theologians. F. Spencer made use of the\nusual line of defence here, but {238} he added also an _argumentum ad\nhominem_. \"St. Paul, in the chapter above referred to (Rom. i.), tells\nus that there were no sins more prevalent in his day, and none more\ndestructive, than that grievous class of sins to which these questions\nrelate. The afflicting experience of the pastors of the Church leads\nthem to fear that no less awfully in these times and in this country,\ndo habits of the like crimes make ruin of thousands of souls; and\n_your own recollection of the University, where, I suppose, you were\neducated for holy orders, must convince you that our fears are not\nunfounded. For what must be expected in the body of the people, when,\namong those who are preparing to be their pastors, at the most\ncritical time of their life, there are so few who dare openly to\nwithstand the prevailing fashion of iniquity, and so many who profess\nto despise morality and chastity as a thing to be ashamed of._\" F.\nSpencer was tripped up in some allusions he made to a Protestant\nattempt at a prayer-book, of which there were two or three editions;\nbut, since he happened not to be correct as to one edition, and to\nmiss something about another, still, though his argument was not\nthereby weakened, but Rev. Mr. Riland Bedford thought it was, and so,\nor nearly so, the matter ended.\n\nF. Spencer was induced to begin this paper controversy by the hope of\nconveying some information about Catholic dogmas to those who would\nnot read Catholic books, but would, and did, read newspapers. Shortly\nafter, he learnt, by one instance, what little good generally comes of\nthis kind of contention. He paid a visit to Hagley, and, in a\nconversation with Lord Lyttelton, asked him if he had seen the\n_Birmingham Gazette_ lately. \"Yes,\" replied the other, \"but delicacy\nforbade me to allude to your share in that concern.\" The sum of it was\nthat his lordship thought George under a perfect delusion, and\nwondered he was not confounded at such powerful refutations as his\nadversary's were. All F. Spencer wrote looked to him perfectly\ntrifling; so much so, that he had made up his mind to take George in\nhand himself, and convert him back again, and was then {239} actually\ngetting up some little theology to aid him in doing so more summarily.\nThis George took in very good humour, and hoped good from, especially\nas Lord Lyttelton appeared to be the leader in the family in point of\nreligion. He was doomed to a sad disappointment; for Lord Lyttelton\ndied shortly after this conversation, and, as far as documentary\nevidence goes, without having had another conversation with Father\nSpencer.\n\n{240}\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nPrivate Life And Crosses Of F. Spencer.\n\n\nIt could scarcely be supposed that the self-denying, laborious life of\nF. Spencer in West Bromwich, which has been already alluded to, could\nbe one of those effervescent fits that pass away with the newness of\nchange, when one remembers his life as a Protestant minister. He did\nnot abate one iota of his mortifications or labours, but he became\nsystematized with them, and managed, under the advice of his director,\nto keep from extremes. He no longer scrupled paying for a conveyance,\nif he thought the object of his journey was worth more than the\ncoach-fare. For letters, he followed the same rule, though, as he was\nin a position to obtain franks very frequently, he had not so much\ndifficulty to put up with in the matter of paying heavy postage. To\nbear these remarks out, we have some of his own letters, but the\nletter of a lady, who made his acquaintance some time about 1835, and\nhad frequent opportunities of observing him up to the time of his\nbecoming a Passionist, will be more satisfactory than snatches of\nsentences here and there, which accidentally tell what he was doing.\n\n  \"In the year 1835 I first became acquainted with the Catholic\n  religion, and, in consequence, with the Hon. and Rev. George\n  Spencer, who instructed and afterwards received me into the Church.\n  From that time till the present I never for a moment doubted of his\n  extraordinary sanctity. He never in all his discourses with me,\n  which were numerous, spoke of anything but with an aim to the glory\n  of God. I knew his housekeeper at West Bromwich, a very good woman,\n  who has been dead many years. She told me that she many times found\n  him, very early in the morning, {241} cleaning his own shoes, and\n  she dare not let him see her for fear of confusion. She often\n  remarked that he spent a very long time in the exercise of prayer\n  and meditation. He was so zealous for the salvation of souls that\n  whenever he saw any new comer in his chapel he would find them out,\n  go to their houses and speak with them; he thus brought many into\n  the Church. Although he was insulted in all kinds of ways, on his\n  walks, he rejoiced and thanked God for all. When he opened his\n  mission in Dudley, rather than go to a public inn he slept, wrapped\n  up in a large rough cloak, on the bare floor of what served as for\n  sacristy, and continued to do so for some time until he had a proper\n  place prepared. Many nights at his own home he used to disturb the\n  bed a little, but it was found that he had not lain in it at all for\n  the whole night. When he was instructing me in the year 1836, he\n  broke a blood-vessel, and though the blood literally flowed from his\n  head into a dish, he continued on the instructions. He visited the\n  sick constantly. On one occasion he went to see a poor woman, who\n  had not one to attend her; she became very restless whilst he was\n  there, and wanted to go downstairs; he wrapped her up in a blanket\n  and carried her down. She was no sooner down than she wanted to be\n  brought up again; he brought her up, too; she got quiet then,\n  listened to him, and after a short time expired before he left the\n  room.\n\n  \"At one house where he visited, a child was suffering from a bad\n  mouth, so that it was quite distressing to look at it. Father\n  Spencer laid his finger on the child's tongue, and said, 'It will be\n  well;' in a half-an-hour afterwards it was quite well. Once my\n  grandmother was at the point of death; he came and blessed her, and\n  in a day or two she was quite well.\" Miraculous cures are wrought\n  very frequently by priests' blessings. \"Whatever thou blessest shall\n  be blessed,\" is not pronounced in vain at their ordination; and \"we\n  must,\" as Father Ignatius would say pointedly to those who reflected\n  little on them, \"remember that our Lord's words do deserve some\n  little attention.\" Faith can remove mountains, and it is only proper\n  and just that faith could do something less. Since the faith of the\n  person {242} \"made whole\" is often as powerful as the faith of the\n  servant of God, each side escapes the vanity of having wrought\n  wonders, by attributing the effect to the other. \"He generally went\n  to the kitchen himself, or other places, to get what he wanted, and\n  would often do without a thing, rather than trouble his housekeeper\n  or a servant, if he knew them to be engaged. He wished to be not\n  only his own servant, but the servant of everybody as far as he\n  could. He used to beg of my father and me to pray that he might\n  become poorer than the poorest man we ever knew. He even once asked\n  my father to pray that he might become so poor as to be compelled to\n  _lie down and die in a ditch_. I never saw him out of heart or in\n  the least discouraged, however difficult a case he might come\n  across: he would generally say, 'We must go on, rejoice and thank\n  God; it will all come right in the end.' One of his former high-up\n  friends and he were walking by a lunatic asylum once, and his friend\n  remarked that he should soon be fit for admission there. This he\n  used to relate with as great glee as if he had received a first-rate\n  compliment, perhaps greater. When he visited our house in the\n  country once, he struck his head against a beam somewhere, and I was\n  astonished at hearing him exclaim, 'Served me right.'\"\n\nSeveral dear friends die about this time, and the conflict between\naffection and religious detachment is beautifully pourtrayed in the\nyielding of the former to the latter by several remarks of his own and\nothers, which we subjoin.\n\nHe hears of the death of Cardinal Weld about the beginning of the year\n1837, and thus writes to Mr. Phillipps about it: \"You have heard, of\ncourse, of Cardinal Weld's death. I have felt that it is to me like\nthe loss of a father almost; for he treated me as a child, as no doubt\nhe did a great many more. But we must not give way to sorrows, for we\nhave enough to do with our feelings in the battle against present\nevils, without wasting them on evils which are irremediable.\" The next\ndeath he heard of was that of the Honourable George Quin, a nephew of\nhis, and he wrote to Mr. Phillipps: \"That is another warning to us to\npray better for the remainder, when one of our four families is {243}\ncarried off before the fruit of our prayers appears.\" Somewhere about\nthis time Lord Lyttelton dies also, without having succeeded in the\nproject he formed last year, nor did poor Father Spencer succeed much\nin bringing him over to his side. He always respected this good\nbrother-in-law, and the feeling was returned. He felt greatly for his\nloss, as well as for the bereavement of his sister. To add to his\ntrials, a change comes over the relations between him and his family.\nHitherto it was stipulated that Father Spencer was to be always\nreceived as a welcome guest provided he never spoke on religious\nsubjects. The Bishop thinks it, as of course it was, unfair to place\nrestrictions upon him, and not leave the matter to his own discretion.\nIt was not quite becoming for a priest to pay visits, and keep his\nlips closed by contract on everything that was proper to his sacred\ncharacter. On the other hand, the family did not like to have their\nagreeable parties disturbed by controversy, which was likely to draw\nout hotter words than was suitable to the state of things. Both sides\nhad some kind of reason to show, and Father Spencer was placed between\nthem. He communicated the decision of his bishop to the more\ninfluential members of the Spencer family, but he found they would not\nbend. He cheerfully gives up visiting, and even consoles some of his\nfriends who manifest their concern that he should be debarred a\npleasure so innocent and apparently so justifiable. How much he felt\nthis, notwithstanding his cheerful resignation, may be seen from the\nfollowing testimony, of one who knew him well, to the affection he had\nfor Lady Lyttelton, his sister, who still survives:--\n\n  \"In the year 1837 Mr. Mackey (Mrs. Mackey writes the letter) was\n  engaged painting a picture for Father Ignatius, for his chapel at\n  West Bromwich, and we saw a great deal of him. He was devotedly\n  attached to his sister, Lady Lyttelton, and he often used to speak\n  of her loving care of him when a boy; and once, when I quoted those\n  lines of Gray:--\n\n{244}\n\n    \"'See the wretch that long was toss'd\n      On the stormy bed of pain,\n    At once regain his vigour lost,\n      And breathe and walk again.\n\n    The meanest note that swells the gale,\n      The simplest flower that scents the dale,\n    The common sun, the air, the skies,\n      To him are opening Paradise--'\n\n  he was much affected, and said he had not heard them since his\n  sister, Lady Lyttelton, repeated them to him after recovering from\n  an illness when he was young. There was, also, a song he sang\n  occasionally at our house, because she liked it, and had taught it\n  to him. He sang it with such feeling that it always moved me to\n  tears, and as soon as I heard of his death I began to sing it, and\n  it kept recurring to me all day. I seemed to rejoice for him in the\n  song. These are the words: they are Moore's:--\n\n    \"'The bird, let loose in Eastern skies,\n      When hastening fondly home,\n    Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies\n      Where idle warblers roam.\n\n    But high she shoots through air and light,\n      Above all low delay:\n    Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,\n      Nor shadow dims her way.\n\n    So grant me, Lord, from ev'ry care,\n      And stain of passion free,\n    Aloft through virtue's nobler air,\n      To wing my course to thee.\n\n    No sin to cloud, no lure to stay,\n      My soul as home she springs,\n    Thy sunshine on her joyful way,\n      Thy freedom on her wings.'\n\n  He was always very much moved when speaking of Lady Lyttelton.\"\n\nIt was no small sacrifice to submit with cheerfulness to the\ncircumstances which prevented him visiting this sister, now that she\nhad become a widow and had need of a consoler to help herself and\nchildren to bear their affliction. He simply says: \"I find all my\ncrosses and vexations to be blessings; and directly I made the\nsacrifice of feeling to duty, God sent me the best set of catechumens\nI have had yet. {245} Among others, a man and wife who have been\n_male_ and _female_ preachers, among the Primitive Methodists, or\nRanters.\"\n\nHis great friend and director, the Rev. Mr. Martyn, was the next of\nwhose death he heard. This good and virtuous priest was more than a\nfriend to Father Spencer. He served his novitiate to the work of the\nEnglish mission, under his direction in Walsall, for three months\nbefore he came to West Bromwich. He had been his confessor and guide\nin all his practices of piety until now. He managed his affairs with\nas much interest as if they were his own; he was ever ready with his\ncounsel and assistance, and seems to have taken the Dudley mission as\nsoon as Father Spencer had built the church there. Father Spencer\npreached his funeral oration, and paid the last tribute of respect to\nhis mortal remains in the very spot where he so often profited by his\ncounsels. Here there was no cause of regret, except for the good\npriest's widowed flock, for his saintly life gave strong hopes of a\nblessed eternity.\n\nIt was said, in a former chapter, that he gave all his money to the\nBishop, and had sums given him now and again, of which he returned an\naccount at stated times, to see if the way in which he spent them\nwould be approved of. It may be interesting to know how he kept these\naccounts. Fortunately a few leaves of the book in which they were\nnoted have been found among his papers, and from them we make the\nfollowing extract:--\n\n{246}\n\n1838.                                            \u00a3   s.  d.\n\nDec. 1. Mrs. Nicholl's rent paid up to Nov. 12   1   0   0\n        Advanced to Mr. Elves                    0  10   0\n        Mr. Davis, for a walk to Walsall         0   1   0\n\n     2. Letter to Paris                          0   1   5\n\n     3. Omnibus to and from Birmingham           0   2   0\n        Given to Bridget Cullinge                0   2   0\n        Shoe-string                              0   0   6\n        Mrs. Cooper.\n\t  Housekeeping                           1   1   7\n          Washing                                0   5   8\n          Postage                                1   1   9\u00bd\n          Watchman                               0   0   9\n          Mr. Elves                              0   3   6\n        Betsy Hawkins, quarter's wages           0  15   0\n        Mrs. Cooper, towards wages               5   0   0\n        Advanced to Mr. Elves                    5   0   0\n\n     4. Mrs. Whelan                              0  10   0\n        John and Barney White, for a message     0   1   0\n        Elizabeth Morley                         0   1   0\n\n     5. Armytage, 6d.; Mrs. Brown, 1s.           0   1   6\n        Coals, paid Mr. Pearse                   1   6   3\n\n     6. P. O'Brien, 2s.; Peggy, 1s.              0   3   0\n        Boy who brought horse                    0   1   0\n        Gordon, butcher's bill                   5  19   0\n        Sealing-wax                              0   0   6\n        Letter to Dr. Wiseman                    0   2   3\n\n     7. Mrs. Cottril, 1s. 6d.; Mrs. Gale, 1s.    0   2   6\n        Turnpike, 8d.; Chs. Gordon, 6d.          0   1   2\n\n     8. Gig-whip, 2s. 6d.; turnpike, 8d.         0   3   2\n        Morris, for Mrs. Callaghan's rent        0  15   0\n        Shenton, for holding the mare            0   1   0\n        Clothes-brush                            0   2   6\n\n     9. Conway, 7s.6d.; school-window mended,6d  0   8   0\n\n    10. Turnpike, 4d.; horse at Dudley, 6s.      0   6   4\n        Hat at Domely's                          1   1   0\n        Mrs. Brown, tailor's                     0   2   0\n        Gloves                                   0   1  10\n        Armytage, 6d.; lucifers, 2d.             0   0   8\n\n    11. Stuff to make a collar, &c.              0   3   9\n        Two dozen Douay Catechisms               0   4   0\n        Carriage of parcel to Dr. Fletcher       0   1   2\n\n    12. John Collinge, 1s.; P. O'Brien, 2s.      0   3   0\n        Adv. to Mr. Elves                        0   1   0\n\n    13. Adv. to Mrs. Cooper, for wages           6   0   0\n        Housekeeping                             0  17  10\n        Ribbon for stole                         0   5   2\n        Parcel, 8s. 2d.; postage, 3s. 8d.        0  11  10\n        Washing, 4s. 9d.; Mr. Elves, 8d.         0   5   5\n\nTo this may be added, that on the credit side he puts his instalments\nfrom the Bishop, and every single penny he gets in the shape of\nofferings, seat-rents, alms, &c., &c. There have also remained,\nbetween some of the leaves of this account-book, a few little slips of\npaper, on which he pencilled whatever he paid or received when away\nfrom home, so as to be able to note it down when he came back. It\n{247} may be well to remark that the extract given above cannot be\ntaken as an average of his expenditure, as December is a month when\nbills come in thicker than in other months of the year.\n\nIt will be remembered that this mode of managing his household\naffairs, was the result of the trial Father Spencer made of the vows\nof religion in his secular state, which has been alluded to in a\nformer chapter.\n\n{248}\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nAssociation Of Prayers For The Conversion Of England.\n\n\nIt was in the year 1838 that he began the great work to which his life\nand energies were afterwards devoted--the moving of the Catholics\neverywhere to pray conjointly for the conversion of England. Before\nthis time he and a few of his friends prayed privately, said or heard\nmasses for this intention, and encouraged one another by letters and\nconversations to perseverance in so holy a practice. Now he went to\nwork on a larger scale. How this change in the working of his zeal was\nbrought about will be best seen from a letter he wrote to Dr. Briggs\nin November, 1838. Before, however, quoting it, it may be well to\nremark that the cause of his going to France with Mr. Phillipps was\nthat he was breaking down in health, hard-worked by two laborious\nmissions, for which he had no assistant since Mr. Martyn's death, and\nthat his doctor advised change of air and rest. Here is the letter:--\n\n    \"London, Nov. 5, 1838.\n\n  \"My Dear Lord,--I hope I shall be doing right to explain to your\n  lordship the real circumstances of the transaction which, you may\n  perhaps have been told, has been adverted to in _The Times_\n  newspaper of Nov. 3, and some other paper since; which states, from\n  the _Gazette de France,_ that I have been at Paris, with Mr. Ambrose\n  Phillipps, busy in establishing an association of prayers for the\n  conversion of England to the Roman faith. I am certainly ready to\n  plead guilty on this charge; but I do not find cause to repent of\n  it. However, a good thing may be done so out of place and out of\n  time as to make it not worth much, and it may be necessary,\n  therefore, that I should explain myself before I am approved of in\n  what I have been {249} doing in Paris. In the first visit which I\n  paid to the Archbishop on my arrival at Paris, I was saying, what I\n  say continually, that what we want above all in England is good\n  prayers; and that it would be a great benefit if the French would\n  undertake to unite in prayer for us. I did not think of making any\n  proposal for an actual arrangement of the kind till the Archbishop\n  himself (then Monseigneur Quelin) encouraged, and almost obliged, me\n  to do all I could by the zealous manner in which he took up the\n  idea. He appointed that I should meet him after two days at St.\n  Sulpice, where seventy or eighty of the clergy of Paris were to be\n  assembled to offer him an address of thanks for a retreat which he\n  had given them. After the business was concluded, he introduced me\n  to them, and having explained how I came to be there, he proposed\n  that they should undertake to pray for the conversion of England on\n  every Thursday. The proposal was most favourably received, and I\n  heard of its being acted upon by many offering their mass on the\n  first Thursday. This encouraged me to go on. I obtained a circular\n  letter of introduction to the superiors of religious houses, and\n  visited about twenty of the principal. All of them undertook to\n  offer their prayers as I asked them, and to write to their sister\n  houses through France. The General of the Lazarists, and the\n  Provincial of the Jesuits, undertook to recommend it to their\n  brethren; but what I thought more satisfactory yet was, that all the\n  Archbishops and bishops whom I could meet with in Paris promised to\n  recommend the prayers in their dioceses and provinces; so that it\n  appeared to me that there was reason to say that all France would\n  soon be united in this prayer, and I trust other countries of Europe\n  will follow their example. I remember, at the time when your\n  lordship received me with much kindness at Halford House, on our\n  speaking of the importance of prayers being regularly said for the\n  conversion of England, and you told me of what had been done at\n  Ushaw under your direction. I forget whether I said to you that I\n  had then lately adopted the practice of offering my mass every\n  Thursday regularly for that intention. I took this from the nuns of\n  Mount {250} Pavilion, with whom I had become acquainted the summer\n  before, but especially what they do on Thursday, when there is high\n  mass and exposition all the day, and a solemn act of reparation for\n  the outrages committed against the Divine Eucharist. It seemed to me\n  that this was a devotion peculiarly suited to the object of\n  obtaining from Almighty God graces for England, one of whose most\n  crying sins is; _the blasphemy of the Blessed Sacrament authorized\n  by law for three centuries_.\n\n  \"I had only proposed the idea, however, to a few priests of my\n  acquaintance, to unite in saying mass for England on that day, and\n  was rather waiting for some plan to be suggested for a general union\n  of prayers in England by some one of authority. But, as nothing had\n  been done, and when I found myself engaged in this pursuit at Paris,\n  it was necessary to propose something definite, I have nothing\n  better than to request prayers from all the faithful for England,\n  all days and at all times, but especially to offer mass on Thursday,\n  if they be priests and at liberty, or communion, or assistance at\n  mass, or visits to the Blessed Sacrament, or, in short, whatever\n  they did for God, particularly on that day, for England's\n  conversion.\n\n  \"The manner in which this request was accepted by all the good\n  people whom I saw was most consoling to me; and it appears to me\n  that I am bound to make it known in England, to those whose judgment\n  is most important, and whose approval would most powerfully\n  recommend the Catholics in England to correspond with the zealous\n  spirit exhibited in behalf of our country by France.\n\n  \"It is not for me to suggest to your lordship what might be done. I\n  only venture to hope that you may think this matter perhaps worthy\n  of your attention, and will perhaps mention it to the clergy as\n  occasion may present itself. I would add, that in France the\n  superiors of several seminaries were most ready to undertake to\n  recommend it to the students, and it pleased me particularly to\n  interest those communities in behalf of England, because the\n  devotion might so well spread in that way through all classes. Would\n  your lordship think fit to mention the subject at Ushaw? {251} I\n  have nowhere asked for any particular prayers to be said as that\n  might be burdensome; but simply that this intention might be thought\n  of at least, if nothing more was done in reference to it.\n\n  \"I beg again to be excused for my boldness in thus addressing you,\n  and am your lordship's\n\n    \"Obedient humble servant,\n      \"George Spencer.\"\n\nThe passage he alludes to in _The Times_ was as follows:--\n\n  \"The Hon. and Rev. George Spencer, brother to the present Earl, who\n  was converted from Protestantism to the Catholic faith some years\n  ago, has lately been passing some time at Paris, with Mr. Ambrose\n  Phillipps, a gentleman of distinction of Leicestershire, eldest son\n  of the late member for the northern division of the county. They\n  have been busily occupied there in establishing an association of\n  prayers for the conversion of this country to the Roman faith. They\n  have had several interviews with the Archbishop of Paris on this\n  subject, who has ordered all the clergy to say special prayers for\n  this object in the _memento_. A number of the religious communities\n  in France have already begun to follow the same practice.\"\n\nThis paragraph was taken up, of course, and commented upon by the\nsecond-rate papers. To be sure, the whole thing was magnified into\nnothing less than a grand stir for a Papal aggression, which, if it\ndid not make the English shore glitter some day with French bayonets,\nwas certain to cram every workshop and church with Jesuits in\ndisguise.\n\nThe Bishops were all favourable to Father Spencer's zealous ideas;\nthey gave him leave to speak on the subject with all the priests; they\nmentioned it in their pastorals: but they did not wish him to go too\npublicly to work, as they rather feared the spirit of the times, and\ndid not know when another Gordon riot might arise and overthrow what\nthey had been building up since the Emancipation. In the meantime, the\nwork was progressing rapidly. A Dutch journal reached him which let\nhim know that all the seminaries and convents in Holland had given\ntheir Thursday devotions for England. A good {252} priest wrote from\nGeneva to say that the programme should be widened, and that all\nheretics and separatists ought to be included as well as England. To\nthis Father Spencer consented after some deliberation, and in the\nspace of about six months all the Continent were sending up prayers\nfor England's conversion. He makes speeches at formal dinners and\npublic meetings, and always introduces this topic; whereupon the\nreporters conceive a terrible rage, and puff the matter into all the\ntaverns and offices of London, Liverpool, and Manchester. Of course,\nall this is accompanied with gross misrepresentations and personal\nabuse. Of the former point he thus speaks in a letter:--\"The\nmisrepresentations, as far as I have seen them in the public papers,\nby which they have endeavoured to obstruct the proposed good, are so\nglaring that I think all thinking persons must be benefited by reading\nthem.\" \"My notion was to ignore the English public altogether, and go\non with my work as if it did not exist.\" \"The opposite papers have\ncertainly helped me and well, in making the matter as public as I\ncould wish, without a farthing's cost to me, and in a way in which I\ncannot be accused of being the immediate agent of its publicity, as it\nwas put about as though to annoy me, but they are pleasing me without\nintending it.\" This was the good-humoured way in which he took all\nthat was personal in the journalistic tirades. It gives one an idea\nboth of his great zeal and the great virtue with which he accompanied it.\n\nHe now writes to the Irish Archbishops, and receives very encouraging\nanswers. So much did they enter into his sentiments that, in a meeting\nof the Irish episcopate in Dublin, they gave his proposals a good\nshare of their attention, and approved of them.\n\nThis he accounted great gain. It was the prayer of the martyr for his\npersecutor, of Stephen for Saul, and of Our Lord for the Jews. Poor\nIreland had groaned and writhed in Saxon bondage for centuries. She\nsaw her children scattered to the winds, or ground by famine and\ninjustice beneath the feet of the destroyer; and, at the voice of a\nSaxon priest, she turned round, wiped the tear from her eye, {253}\npitied the blindness of her oppressor, and offered up her sufferings\nto Heaven to plead for mercy for her persecutor. The cry was a solemn\nuniversal prayer, framed by her spiritual leaders, and carried to\nevery fireside where the voice of the Church could drown the utterings\nof complaint. F. Spencer thought more of the prayers of the Irish than\nof all the Continent put together; these were good, but those were\nheroic. He began to love Ireland thenceforward with an ever-increasing\nlove, and trusted chiefly to the faith and sanctity of her children\nfor the fulfilment of his zealous intentions.\n\nHe pushed his exertions to Rome also, by writing to Dr. Wiseman, and\nasking him to see the devotion carried out in the Eternal City and the\nprovinces. It met the same success as in France, Belgium, Holland, and\nIreland. There is a letter extant which Dr. Wiseman wrote to F.\nSpencer about this time (it is dated Ash Wednesday, 1839), and it must\nbe interesting, both for its intrinsic merit as well as the giving an\nevidence of the harmony of feeling and sentiment that bound the great\ncardinal and the zealous priest together since their first\nacquaintance until they both went, within a few months of each other,\nto enjoy the eternal reward of their labours in England and elsewhere,\nfor God's glory:--\n\n    \"Rome, _Ash Wednesday_, 1839.\n\n  \"My Dear Friend,--I must not delay any longer answering your kind\n  and interesting letter. Its subject is one which has long occupied\n  my thoughts, though I never contemplated the possibility of\n  enlisting foreign Churches in prayer for it, but turned my attention\n  more to exciting a spirit of prayer among ourselves. I will enter on\n  the matter in hand with the most insignificant part of it, that is,\n  my own feelings and endeavours, because I think they may encourage\n  you and suggest some thoughts upon the subject. In our conference\n  this time last year, I spoke very strongly to the students upon the\n  wants of England, and the necessity of a new system in many things.\n  One of the points on which I insisted was the want of systematic\n  prayer for the conversion of England, and, at the same time, of\n  _reparation_ for her defection. I observed that it is the only\n  country {254} which has _persisted in_ and _renewed_, in every\n  generation, _formal acts of apostacy_, exacting from every\n  sovereign, in the name of the nation, and from all that aspired to\n  office or dignity, specific declarations of their holding Catholic\n  truths to be superstitious and idolatrous. This, therefore, assumes\n  the form of a national sin of blasphemy and heresy--not habitual,\n  but actual; it is a bar to the Divine blessing, an obstacle of a\n  positive nature to God's grace. It calls for contrary _acts_, as\n  explicit and as formal, to remove its bad effects. Now what are the\n  points on which this blasphemous repetition of national apostacy has\n  fastened? They are chiefly two: Transubstantiation and the worship\n  of the Blessed Virgin. These, consequently, are the points towards\n  which the reparation and, for it, the devotion of Catholics should\n  be directed in England. I therefore proposed, and have continued to\n  inculcate this two-fold devotion, to our students on every occasion.\n  I have for a year made it my daily prayer that I might be\n  instrumental in bringing back devotion to the Blessed Eucharist, its\n  daily celebration, frequent Communion, and _public_ worship in\n  England; and, at the same time, devotion to the Blessed Virgin,\n  chiefly _through the propagation of the Rosary_. (My reasons for the\n  choice of the Rosary I shall, perhaps, not be able to explain in\n  this letter.) Allow me to mention, as I write to you, quite\n  confidentially, that the idea struck me one afternoon that I\n  happened to be alone in the Church of St. Eustachio, observing that\n  the altar of the Blessed Sacrament was that of the Madonna; this led\n  me to earnestly praying on the subject of uniting those two objects\n  in a common devotion in England, and offering myself to promote it.\n  Several things led me to feel strongly on the subject which, being\n  trifles to others if not to myself, I omit. First, as to the Blessed\n  Eucharist, my plan was different from yours in one respect, that,\n  instead of fixing on one day, I proposed to engage priests to say\n  mass for the conversion of England on different days, so that every\n  day twenty or thirty masses might be said for its conversion, and in\n  expiation to the Blessed Sacrament. At such a distance from the\n  field of action, I could do but little; I therefore made the few\n  priests who have left since last {253} year at this time put down\n  their names for two days a month, for mass for these purposes,\n  intending to fill up my list as I could. One of them, Mr. Abraham,\n  writes that he observes his engagement most punctually. With all\n  deference, I submit to you whether, while Thursday remains the day\n  for general prayer, every priest (for I should think none would\n  refuse) would choose a couple of days a month, or a day each week,\n  for these purposes. In a sermon in the Ges\u00f9 e Maria, last spring, I\n  alluded to a hope I fondly cherished, that public reparation would\n  before long be made in England to the Blessed Sacrament, and this\n  brought me a letter from a devout lady, earnestly begging I would\n  try to have something done in that way, and naming persons in\n  England most anxious to cooperate in anything of the sort. My idea\n  was borrowed from my excellent friend, Charles Weld, and consisted\n  in _Quarant' Ore_, not confined to one town, but making the circuit\n  of all England, so that by day and night the Adorable Sacrament\n  might be worshipped through the year. I have proposed it to Lord\n  Shrewsbury, for I think it should commence with the colleges,\n  convents, gentlemen's chapels, and large towns, in which I trust\n  each chapel would consent. As the Exposition at each place lasts two\n  days, it would require 182 changes in the year, or, if each would\n  take it twice a year, 91. There are about twenty-five religious\n  communities and colleges; the chapels in large towns could afford to\n  make up other twenty-five. I think that many pious people would like\n  to have the _Exposition_, and gladly contribute the expense, and the\n  _giro_ might be published for the year in each directory. I must say\n  I should set myself against the common practice of keeping the\n  Blessed Sacrament in a _cupboard_ in the vestry, without a light\n  even, and never having an act of adoration paid to it, except at\n  mass. Security from sacrilege must be purchased, but not by a sort\n  of sacrilege which it always looked to me; the faithful should be\n  encouraged to visit the Blessed Sacrament during the day. Secondly,\n  as to the devotion to the Blessed Virgin, I proposed the forming of\n  Confraternities of the Rosary, and, while Saturday should be the\n  general day for the devotion, I would have different congregations\n  {256} fix on different days, so that each day the powerful\n  intercession of the Blessed Virgin might be invoked upon us and upon\n  our labours, and reparation be made to her for the outrages\n  committed against her. I offered Mr. Oxley and Mr. Procter to write\n  a little treatise on the Rosary, if they would disseminate it. _One_\n  of my reasons for preferring the Rosary, both for myself and English\n  Catholics, is what ordinarily forms an objection to it. Pride, when\n  we come to pray, is our most dangerous enemy, and I think no better\n  security can be given against it than to pray as the poor and\n  ignorant do. Do we then _wish_ that God should judge us by the\n  standard of the wise who _know_ their duty, or by that of the poor\n  little ones? If by the latter, why spurn the prayers instituted for\n  them, and say, 'We will not use them, but the prayers better suited\n  to the learned.' The 'Our Father' was appointed and drawn up for men\n  who said 'Lord, teach us how to pray.' It is a prayer for the\n  ignorant, as is the Rosary. But more of this another time. It was my\n  intention to have begun daily prayers for England last St. George's\n  Day; I was prevented from drawing them up, but hope to begin this\n  year. In the meantime, I took out of our archives a printed paper,\n  of which I enclose a copy, showing that prayers for the conversion\n  of England, &c., have in former times occupied the attention of our\n  college, which blessed beads, &c., for the purpose of encouraging\n  them, and that the Holy See conferred ample spiritual privileges\n  upon the practice. You will see how the Rosary is particularly\n  privileged. This paper, through Giustiniani, I laid before the\n  Congregation of Indulgences to get them renewed for prayers for\n  England, and was told that it would be better to draw up something\n  new, suited to present times, when Indulgences would be granted. So\n  far as to my views and ideas before your better ones reached me, and\n  I willingly resign all my views and intentions in favour of yours.\n  Now, as to what is doing here. On the Feast of St. Thomas we\n  distributed to all the cardinals that came, a copy of your sermon\n  received that morning, with a beautiful lithograph of St. Thomas,\n  Cant., executed in the house at some of the students' expense, to\n  propagate devotion to him. {257} Cardinal Orioli declared that he\n  had for years made a _memento_ for England in his mass, and Cardinal\n  Giustiniani told me the other day that every Thursday he offers up\n  mass for its conversion. There is a little religious weekly journal\n  published here for distribution among the poor, and it has lately\n  been in almost every number soliciting prayers for the same purpose.\n  Its principal editor, an ex-Jesuit, Padre Basiaco, called on me the\n  other evening, and told me, as a singular coincidence, that since he\n  was in his noviciate he has made it a practice to pray on Thursday\n  for that object. To show you to what an extent the pious custom is\n  spreading, the Austrian Ambassador the other evening told me that\n  his little boys (about seven and eight years old) prayed every\n  Thursday morning for the conversion of England; and that having been\n  asked by their mother on that day if he had prayed for it, one of\n  the little fellows replied, 'No, mamma; it is not Thursday.' Surely\n  God must intend to grant a mercy when He stirs up so many to pray\n  for it, and that, too, persons having no connection with the object,\n  except by zeal or charity. I am going, in a day or two, to concert\n  with Pallotta the best means of propagating this devotion, both in\n  communities and among the people. I perfectly approve of enlarging\n  your original plan so as to embrace all that are in error. I am in\n  favour of giving expansion to charities in any way, and\n  _Catholicising_ our feelings as much as our faith. We are too\n  insular in England in religion as in social ideas. This was one of\n  my reasons for wishing to have the _oeuvre_ unconnected with\n  domestic purposes, which would, however, be benefited by the greater\n  energy which the spirit of charity would receive by being extended.\n  I am endeavouring to excite in the students as much as I can the\n  missionary spirit; all the meditations are directed to this. By the\n  missionary spirit I do not mean merely a parochial, but an apostolic\n  spirit, where each one, besides his own especial flock, takes an\n  interest in, and exerts himself for the benefit of the entire\n  country, according to the gifts he has received. Remember me in your\n  prayers, and believe me your sincere and affectionate friend,\n\n    \"N. Wiseman.\"\n\n\n{258}\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nHis Last Days In West Bromwich.\n\n\nThe account given of Father Spencer's zealous labours for the\nconversion of England would be incomplete if something were not added\nto show how he succeeded in bringing persons into the Church in the\nlocality of which he had the spiritual charge. There is no record of\nthe number he received, and only from stray notes, from various\nsources, can some instances of his way of working be given. He was not\na great preacher, as all knew; but there was a peculiar spirit in what\nhe said which seemed to impress his discourse upon the hearer as if it\ncame not from himself. This want of human eloquence was a drawback to\nhim inasmuch as it was not likely to bring crowds to hear him. An\nanecdote or two will illustrate this. Once he was asked to preach in\nManchester, and many Catholics who heard of it went, of course, to\nhear the convert who was talked and written about so much. Among the\nrest, one young man who had beforehand built castles in his own mind\nabout the glowing eloquence he should hear. To his disappointment, the\npreacher was cold, dry, and tame. He was not too pleased, but some way\nor another every word took effect upon him, and he could not quit\nthinking of the sermon, and the peculiar way in which many things were\nsaid. The end of it was, that he became, some time after, a\nPassionist, and was one of those in whom Father Ignatius found great\nconsolation, on account of the zeal he showed and continues still to\nshow, in the pursuit of the darling objects of Father Ignatius's life.\nA lady was more pointed in her remarks. She went to hear him on some\nother great occasion, and she said:--\"I saw him go into the pulpit; I\nheard him address {259} the people, and I was waiting all the time\nthinking when will he have done talking and begin to preach, until, to\nmy surprise, I found what purported to be a sermon coming to a\nconclusion, yet I can remember to this day almost everything he said.\"\n\nFrom the little weight Father Spencer laid upon human learning in the\nwork of conversion, one would be tempted to suppose he undervalued\nwhat he did not possess. No greater mistake could be made. He was a\nCambridge first-class man, and must therefore be a good mathematical\nand classical scholar. He spoke Italian and French almost without a\ngrammatical fault, and conversed very well in German. He was well read\nin the English Protestant divines, and knew Catholic theology with\naccuracy, and to an extent which his academical course would not lead\nus to expect. It may be said that his youth and manhood were spent\nover the pages of the best English writers, and in the company often\nof the best living authors. Althorp and Spencer House were famous for\ntheir literary coteries, and the son of an earl who patronized men of\ntalent, and gave unmistakable proofs of great talent himself, was not\none to let such opportunities pass without profit.\n\nHe trusted little, however, to the sway of intellect, and put his hope\nin fervent petitions for divine grace. He told Dr. Wiseman that he\nshould apply his mind to something more practical than Syriac\nmanuscripts, or treatises on geology, and that he would rather see him\ntaken up with what suited a priest on the English mission as it then\nwas. The rector, of course, took the rebuke as humility dictated; but\nwe should certainly be sorry that he had not written his _Connexion\nbetween Science and Revealed Religion_, and his _Lectures on the\nEucharist_. Spencer, to be sure, was mistaken in this; but the idea\ngave a bent to his mind, which he could hardly be expected to change\nwhen hampered with the work of a parish.\n\nThey who knew him well can give testimony to his high attainments, and\nall who ever heard him speak of himself can bear a more ample\ntestimony still to the very low opinion he had of his own\nacquirements. It is no wonder that he {260} wrote no books; the little\nhe did publish in the way of newspaper letters and sermons during his\nlast years in West Bromwich, did not produce much apparent effect. It\nis not our province to review these here, but it is well to say that\nthe sermons rank far above his spoken ones in point of style and\nmatter, especially the French sermon he preached in Dieppe in 1838.\n\nThe prayers, to which he chiefly trusted for the conversion of his\ncountrymen, did not bring much evident gain. Others reaped what he\nsowed in this way, and he tells us in the Dieppe sermon that during a\nconfirmation Dr. Walsh gave in that year he had 600 new converts to\nimpose hands upon.\n\nHis field at this time was confined mostly to his conversation and\nexample; to both of which his name and reputation added something in\nthe eyes of the world. These gave him leave to speak at least, and\nprocured him listeners where other priests would not obtain a hearing.\nAnd he had no small power in word and example, as all who knew him are\naware, and a few incidents may serve to illustrate.\n\nAs to his conversation, its peculiar charm consisted in the importance\nof its drift, and the nice sweet humour by which he rendered it\nagreeable. Besides, it may be safely said, that there scarcely ever\nwas a man so happy in his illustrations, or in the homely way in which\nhe put an argument, or answered an objection. This last property can\nbe seen from the following passage, which is quoted from one of his\nletters to a newspaper:--\n\n  \"I was once attacked by a stanch Church of England man, who had been\n  an old sailor, and had lost an arm in the service, for what he\n  thought was unworthy of my character and family, leaving my colours\n  and changing sides. I answered him thus: Suppose you, my friend, had\n  entered a ship bearing the King of England's flag and pennant, and\n  gone out and fought many a battle against French cruisers, but then\n  found out by chance that the captain of the ship was an outlawed\n  pirate, who had no right to the colours which he wore, and was\n  making you fight for himself, not for your king, would you let me\n  call you a deserter if the next time you came within hail of a {261}\n  true king's ship you jumped overboard and swam to her? The good\n  sailor seemed to understand me, and said no more about leaving my\n  colours.\"\n\nIt was remarked that very few ever went to speak with him in earnest\nabout their soul with any kind of docility, whom he did not succeed in\nbringing into the Church. Then his example was a continual sermon. He\npreferred the poor, not as poor wretches on whom he thought it was\nheroic to spend a few kind words of mawkish pity, but, in order to\nmake them feel as if they were his brothers and sisters. He would come\ninto their hovels, sit down with them, and even take a cup of tea\nthere, which he might have refused at a richer place. They represented\nto him the person of Jesus Christ, who said, \"The poor you have always\nwith you,\" as a substitute for Himself.\n\nHis patience was no less wonderful. One day he was walking with a sort\nof bag on his shoulder, when an insolent fellow came out before him\nand spat in his face. His housekeeper was with him, helping to carry\nsome articles, for he was then going to say mass in one of the little\nplaces he had opened near Bromwich. She of course fired with\nindignation at once, and said: \"You wicked man! how dare you spit in\nthe face of Lord Spencer's son, and he such a good gentleman? \"Mr.\nSpencer took out his handkerchief, wiped his face, and only said to\nthe housekeeper: \"And how dare you be angry? I am proud of being\ntreated as my dear Lord was;\" and went on his way as if nothing had\nhappened. He did not even allude to it again.\n\nHe was also very abstemious, and never took wine or spirits for a\nnumber of years; indeed, he may be said to have tasted none except as\nmedicine since he became a Catholic, and for sometime before. His\nbishop told a very curious anecdote about this. Father Spencer took\nvery little sleep, and in fact he so shortened his time of rest that\noften, when returning home from a sick call, he would be nodding\nasleep up the street, and walk like a man who had taken \"a little more\nthan was good for him.\" He was reported to the bishop as being seen in\nthis state. The bishop was amused first, and then surprised; but when\nhe found {262} out the cause, notwithstanding that he was edified, he\nmade the good priest sleep a little longer every night. This only\nshows how captious were the people he had to deal with, and how easily\nthey might have been scandalized. Yet he was venerated by all\nCatholics as a saint, and Protestants began to respect him after some\ntime as a really good man, and a server of the Lord according to his\nconscience. The opinion of his sanctity was not merely superficial\nhearsay; his brother priests, who knew him most intimately, and were\nnot the persons to take the appearance of holiness for the reality,\nare all of one opinion, that his life was the life of a great saint. A\nstudent writes to Father Spencer's assistant, Rev. Mr. Elves, in 1838,\nfrom Rome, in the following terms:\n\n  \"It must be a very great source of edification to you to be the\n  companion of Mr. Spencer, and I well know he has got in you a friend\n  willing and ready to imitate his holy example. I am sorry that\n  illness obliges him to retire from you for the present, but it will\n  be a consolation for you to think that he has gone to gather more\n  strength for the contest. Many a time I have dwelt with delight on\n  the idea of being at some future period his fellow missioner, for I\n  feel it would be a source of zeal and fervour to me to live with\n  such a person, and I hope and pray God my wishes may be fulfilled,\n  and that I may have such a companion, or rather such a director,\n  during the first years of my missionary career.\"\n\nThis letter must have been an answer to the account the priest sent\nhis young friend of the holiness of his companion.\n\nAgain, Father Spencer never heeded what we call the public, as he said\nhimself he wished to ignore its existence; and strange enough by that\nvery means he gained its esteem. This is best illustrated by what\nhappened on his return from France, in '38. He saw the clergy there of\ncourse go about in their soutanes and full ecclesiastical costume; and\nhe did not see why he might not do the same. He ignored the public,\nput on his cassock, and went in full priestly costume everywhere. He\nwent to towns, into trains and omnibuses, walks the streets, and he\ngives the result in a letter to a friend thus: \"This has not procured\nme one {263} disrespectful word, which is worthy of remark here, for I\ndo not think I ever passed two or three weeks in this place without\nbeing hooted after by boys or men somewhere.\"\n\nThus we have the servant following his Master, drinking in insults as\nsweet draughts in silence and humility; and when he was supposed to be\nground to the very earth by ignominy, gaining a respect, a love, and a\nreputation that is as fresh to-day in his old parish among not only\nthose who knew him but their children who heard of him. Yes, this day,\nmore than 25 years in distance of time, he is, if possible, more\nvenerated and more regretted than the day he resigned the pastoral\ncharge of West Bromwich.\n\n\n{264}\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nFather Spencer Comes To Oscott.\n\n\nThe Bishop, Dr. Walsh, calls Mr. Spencer to Oscott College towards the\nend of April or perhaps in the beginning of May, 1839. The object of\nthis change was, to give him the spiritual care of the students, in\norder that he might shape their characters, and infuse into them that\napostolic spirit of which he had already given such proofs. Here is\none other instance of the true way to real distinction in greatness in\nthe Catholic Church, lying through the road humility and its\nconcomitant virtues points out. Father Spencer sought to be unknown;\nhe petitioned for the poorest and the most unprovided mission. In his\nlittle parish he found his earthly paradise, and the toils and\ntroubles he went through, to make his practice keep pace with his\nfervour, formed the links of his happiness. He prayed, he lectured, he\nheard confessions; he sought the stragglers in their haunts of\nidleness; he had no idea of extending his sphere of action beyond the\nlimits of his mission, and, he even made the half of that over to\nanother, that his working could be the more effectual as its space was\nnarrowed. Every plan he devised for doing good on a large scale was\nfated to become abortive. His natural means of influence he had cast\naside; he gave up writing in newspapers, and let dogs bark at him\nwithout stooping to notice them; his high connections were virtually\nsundered when he gave up paying visits to his family; his property he\ndivested himself of altogether, and grieved that the steward who was\nappointed to look after him took too much care of him, and did not let\nhim feel what it was to be poor indeed. Here then is the young\nnobleman transformed into the {265} priest, and stripped of\neverything, which priests who were not noble often pursue as necessary\nfor their position; ay, thoroughly shorn to the bare condition of a\npriest. He was a priest and nothing more, and that is saying a great\ndeal. If priests were always mere priests they would always be great\nsaints. But when a priest dips his sacred character into worldly\npursuits, riches, human aims and ways; when that sublime dignity he\nhas received is trampled upon by his own self, and is saturated in the\ndeep dye of worldliness, he ceases to be great, inasmuch as he ceases\nto be a priest in sentiment and action. It is often supposed that a\npriest has to do many things in consideration of \"his cloth.\" Many\nactions that humility dictates are considered _infra dig_. It would be\nso, for instance, to carry one's own bundle, polish one's shoes, allow\na navvy to spit in one's face, or a ragamuffin to tear one's coat,\nwithout handing him over to the police. St. Francis Xavier did not\nthink it _infra dig_ to wash his own shirt, and Father Spencer was\nvery much of that saint's way of thinking on this and kindred points.\n\nWhen, however, he had arrived at the lowest depth of humiliation he\ncould possibly reach, like his Divine Master, he began to shine forth\nand to move the whole world. We have traced above how this change came\nabout. He used to speak to every one, merely as agreeable matter of\nhopeful conversation, about the conversion of England, and get them\nalso to pray for it. His crusade was quite accidental as far as his\nown preconceived notions were concerned. He went to France with Mr.\nPhillipps, much against his will, and found himself all of a sudden\nlaunched into the great work of his life, by the encouraging words of\nFrench prelates. He was not the man to lose an opportunity of doing\ngood through lack of energy or fear of opposition. He could brave\neverything for God's glory. If there was anything that helped him best\nin his work, it was the opposition he encountered. He knew that, and\ntherefore every new stroke levelled against him from friends or foes\nwas a fresh impetus to new exertions. Hence he is now the\ncorrespondent of the heads of the Catholic Church at home {266} and on\nthe continent; all the religious orders have heard of him and his zeal\nfor England; seculars have heard; priests, nuns, monks, all chime in\nwith his notions; many because they were glad to have the opportunity,\nmany because they did not wish to be behind their neighbours, and all\nbecause it was a good, holy, and laudable thing to pray for the\nconversion of heretics.\n\nHe says little about his property or what is being done with it in any\nof the letters that remain after him; but a bishop in whose diocese he\nlived has told us something. Mr. Spencer had from his father's will\nand testament \u00a33,600 in some funds, besides an annuity of \u00a3300 for\nlife, to which \u00a3300 were added _ad beneplacitum dantis_. His moderate\nway of living took very little from this sum every year, so all the\nremainder, with the interest of some years, was at the bishop's\ndisposal. Two missions, Dudley and West Bromwich, were founded by him\nwith this property, at least for the greater part; and the ground upon\nwhich the present college of Oscott stands was bought chiefly with\nwhat Father Spencer gave the bishop. He gave a pension to his old\nhousekeeper, which she still receives, and whilst his property was\nthus doing good for others and the Church, he would not travel in a\nfirst-class carriage on the railway, and often walked from Oscott to\nBirmingham, in order to be able to give the fare for his journey to\nsome persons along the way.\n\nHe had done more than this: he was in close correspondence with Dr.\nGentili and Father Dominic. He paved their way, and worked upon the\nopinions of many whose influence was required for their introduction\ninto England. Dr. Gentili was a personal friend of his, and so was\nFather Dominic; but Father Spencer thought the claims of the former\nsomewhat stronger for reasons which can only be surmised. Mrs. Gaming,\nhis cousin, to whose letters we owe a great deal of the information we\nare able to glean concerning their transactions, was the great\nadvocate of the Passsionists. She so pressed the matter upon him that\nhe gets rather impatient, and tells her to mind her prayers and leave\nthese things to others. Our Fathers agreed in General {267} Chapter,\nin 1839, to send a colony to England; but as there was no provision\nmade nor opening offered, for some years more this decision, was not\ncarried into effect. The Passionists refer their coming to England,\nunder God, to Cardinal Wiseman, acknowledging at the same time that\nFather Spencer did something towards the work. He also had a good deal\nto do with the coming of the Trappists to Loughborough, near Mr.\nPhillipps's. In all these three events he works in his own quiet way,\nbeneath the surface, writing and advising, and doing what lay in his\npower consistent with other duties.\n\nHe keeps up correspondence by letter with some of his old friends at\ncollege, and with one or two of the Tractarians, Mr. Palmer, the\nauthor of the \"Church of Christ,\" among the number. An old friend of\nhis writes to him from among the Irvingites, and Father Spencer writes\nto another in these terms:--\"The supposed miraculous voice, to which\nthat party (the Irvingites) attend, has named 12 men as Apostles, who\nexpect shortly to be endued with miraculous powers to enable them to\nrestore the Church in its perfect beauty. Drummond the banker is one.\nSpencer Percival, and my great friend Henry Bridgman, Lord Bradford's\nbrother, others.\" It is not a little strange that this Mr. Bridgman\ncomes into the journal of Father Ignatius's Cambridge life very\nfrequently, and mostly in the character of a Mentor.\n\nFather Ignatius never gained much from correspondence, sought on his\npart, with leading men in the great religious movements of the period.\nBut whenever others sought his advice, they generally became\nCatholics. They were disposed for truth, and he could remove\nobjections, tell them of books, and pray for them. He broke off this\nkind of unasked-for correspondence at this time, but he resumed it\nagain on a different footing, as shall be related in its place.\n\nHe had another means of doing good now, which could not come into his\nline while simple pastor of a country district. The college of Oscott\nwas a place worth seeing, if not as a specimen of architecture, at\nleast as being the stronghold of Catholicism, and the centre of a\ngreat deal of {268} intellectual and moral training. Many of his great\nfriends, who could not hitherto devise any plausible plea for visiting\nhim in his retirement, could find one immediately now, from the place\nhe dwelt in as well as the position he there held. His name was also\nnoised abroad, and persons would feel some curiosity for the\nacquaintance of one who was moving heaven and earth for their\nconversion. Accordingly, we find that he entertains his two brothers,\nthe then earl and his successor, on one day; Lord Lyttelton and Mr.\nGladstone on another day, and so forth. Thus, that particular power he\npossessed in his conversation had a field upon which it could be\nbrought into requisition, in a manner which former arrangements had\ndebarred to him.\n\nSeveral of the sermons he preached were published and distributed.\nThere was no faculty of his, natural or supernatural, no good deed he\nwas capable of doing, that did not come into play far better by his\nlate transfer to Oscott. He was also practised in the drudgery of a\nmissionary priest--that sphere of action which fills up a priest's\nordinary life; and he was able from experience to teach others, not\nonly how to prepare themselves, but how to succeed with profit to\nthemselves and others in this work. He had also peculiar advantages\nhere; he could give the young ecclesiastics not only the abstract\nrules for missionary labour, but a taste and relish for it, for very\nseldom can one succeed well if his tastes run counter to his duties.\nHe did this by continuing in Oscott his old parish work; he visited\nthe sick, brought them the sacraments; he gave a portion of every day\nto his favourite work, and by the incidents he came across, and the\nresults of his labours, he raised up the young gentlemen's notions to\nthe looking upon that as the poetic side of their ministry which is\ngenerally supposed to be the most prosaic. This is a great secret in\nthe training of young men; to tell them best is best, and prove it to\nthem, will convince them of course; but it will not lead them; there\nmust be some grace, some romantic aspect put upon the thing, and then\nit entices them of itself. This was Father Spencer's secret, and,\nindeed, it might be said that it was his rule. He writes in a letter\nnow, that he condemns asperity in controversy, {269} and that civility\nand good breeding, with pity and love, is the way to confound\nopponents; and that he would rather see a clever argument unanswered\nthan met with pungency and acrimony. This might be quarrelled with,\nfor in war all things are lawful; but the real state of opinion to\nwhich he came on these matters was, that opponents were surer to be\nconquered by being enticed than driven. Let the Catholic religion but\nbe seen in its native beauty, and thousands will be led to examine it.\n\n\n{270}\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nSome Of His Doings In Oscott College.\n\n\nFather Spencer's way of training young men has been already hinted at.\nHe carried it out while he remained in his new office; he would go\nheartily into all their sports, make up their matches for cricket, and\neven give the younger ones instructions in the art. They had all a\nhigh opinion of his sanctity, and therefore the keeping of their\njuvenile spirits in order was not always a difficult matter. Oscott\ncontained at the time 140 students, 30 only of whom were\necclesiastics. Among the lay students, who are mostly younger than the\nothers, and have a notion too that because they do not intend to be\npriests they are not obliged to be so guarded as the rest, there were\nseveral who were not very manageable. One day a class he had in hand\nwere rather uproarious; he quietly advised them to come to better\nsentiments; his words were, however, lost, and the noise was not\nabated. He remonstrated again, but all to no purpose. At length he got\na hearing, and said: \"Since I cannot correct you, and do not wish to\nchastise you, I shall pray to God to chastise you Himself.\" This, said\nin his sad mood, had such an effect upon the boys that it was never\nforgotten, and he never had the least difficulty with his class again.\n\nOn another occasion he did something in execution of his duty, which\ngave great offence to one of the young men. This young man grossly\ninsulted him, in words that shocked all who were within hearing, and\nparticularly reflected on the Father's character as a gentleman and a\nman of honour. The insult must have been the more galling as the\nperson who was guilty of it was by birth and education in the position\nof a gentleman. One calm and placid look was the {271} only answer\nfrom Father Spencer, which reminded many present of our Lord's look at\nPeter after his denial. For this anecdote and the next we are indebted\nto the Right Rev. Dr. Amherst.\n\n  \"When he (Father Spencer) was a superior at Oscott, I had the good\n  fortune to be under him. He frequently visited me and several of my\n  companions in our rooms, where he would talk with greatest\n  earnestness of the conversion of England, of the sanctification of\n  the priesthood, and of the entire devotedness which should\n  characterize a priest. Sometimes his visits took place late at night\n  after we were gone to bed, when, if we were not asleep, he would sit\n  upon a chair, a table, or the edge of the bed, and speak of his\n  favourite themes for an hour. Once I remember awaking in the\n  morning, after one of these visits, and expecting to find the father\n  still seated on my bed, not perceiving that the night had passed. He\n  had, no doubt, found that I had gone asleep, and went away quietly.\"\n\nAnother time one of the students, a young man about 17, who is now a\nzealous priest in the English Mission, happened to be out shooting\nsomewhere. He took a shot at a blackbird, and some poor old woman was\nwithin range, and received a shot just over the eye. She cried out\nthat she was shot, and one may imagine the embarrassment of the young\nstudent. She recovered, however; but in a year or two after the\noccurrence, a quack doctor applied some remedies to a new swelling in\nthe eye, and swelling and remedies resulted in her death. There was an\ninquest held in Birmingham, to which the student was summoned. Whilst\nawaiting the day, the poor fellow was in very low spirits, as might be\nexpected. Father Spencer went to his room to console him, and said\nthat he had no reason to be cast down, that it was quite accidental,\nand permitted by God as a trial, with a great deal more. It was of\nlittle use, the poor student said, \"but they might transport me.\"\n\"Beautiful, beautiful,\" exclaimed the good Father; \"fine field for the\nexercise of apostolic zeal among the poor convicts.\" \"But then they\nmight even hang me,\" rejoined the student. \"Glorious sacrifice,\" said\nFather Spencer; \"you {272} can offer your life, though innocent in\nthis case, in satisfaction for your other sins.\" Well, the student,\nthough he thought the sentiments very high for his grade of\nspirituality, did not fail to profit by them, and tells the story to\nthis day with a great deal of interest. Thus did Father Spencer work\namong the students, a model in all virtues, and so sweet and holy in\nhis manner that his words went to the very heart with effect.\n\nThis was how he went on in the ordinary routine of the work allotted\nto him; but his zeal could not be bounded by such a sphere, he had\ntried what expansion could do, and he sought by grand schemes to get\nother ways of doing good. His great notion was \"perfection for all.\"\n\"Be ye perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect,\" was ever ringing\nin _his_ ears, and he desired to see that great counsel of our Divine\nLord acted upon with more earnestness. He would do his share; he had\nlong been living like a religious, and practising the three\nevangelical counsels with success. He wanted now to extend the same\nrule to others. Of course, he did not find many to adopt his notions,\nbut lest priests might be considered to assume too much in condemning\nhis plans, he was advised to put his ideas on paper, and send them to\nRome. He did so, and the answer of the Roman Censor was unfavourable.\nThis was a heavy blow, but he submitted at once, and thanked God he\nhad superiors who could find out his faults, and knew how to correct\nhim without human respect. We have reason to suppose this censor was\nno other than Dr. Wiseman, for he and Father Spencer differed a little\nabout the introduction of religious orders into England. Father\nSpencer said his hope was not in religious orders, but in secular\npriests living the lives of religious. This was why he took no leading\npart in bringing Passionists or others into his country; he had a\ngreat opinion of their holiness, and wished to see them working for\nthe conversion of England, but rather at a distance than in the field.\n\nTo add to his crosses, Dr. Baines published a pastoral towards the end\nof the year 1839, in which he gave no hopes of the conversion of\nEngland, and prohibited public {273} prayers being made for that end.\nThis was a terrible blow to poor Father Spencer; he wrote as if he did\nnot well understand what he had to say, and the thing looked to him so\nuncalled-for and so uncharitable, that he was unable to explain\nhimself. He was, however, pleased to find out afterwards that this\nvery opposition gave new strength to the cause.\n\nIn a sermon which Father Spencer preached in Manchester, in May, 1839,\nhe used some expressions that gave offence to Catholic principles. The\ndrift of the discourse is that Catholics and Protestants should\nsacrifice everything except truth itself for peace sake. In bringing\nthis principle into application, he says the Catholics should offer\nthemselves open to conviction, and be ready to lay down their belief,\nif it could be proved not true. He uses the following words:--\n\n  \"The truth of my faith as a Christian and a Catholic is, to my mind,\n  a certainty, because I have evidence that it was taught by God, who\n  cannot deceive nor be deceived. Will that evidence be weakened by\n  fresh examination and discussion? and do I anyways make an unholy or\n  a perilous concession, when I declare myself ready to renounce my\n  belief, if it were sufficiently shown to me that the evidences on\n  which I believe it to be divine are wrong? I embraced and hold it\n  now, because the evidence of its truth, was, and is to my mind\n  unanswerable. I show no doubting of its truth, but, on the contrary,\n  I declare how little doubt I have of its truth, when I profess\n  myself with all my heart willing to renounce it if proved not true,\n  and to embrace any form of doctrine which shall be presented in its\n  place on sufficient grounds of credibility. This is the spirit in\n  which I wish all Catholics would offer themselves to discussion with\n  our Protestant brethren.\"\n\nIf he meant this as a bold assertion of the certainty with which he\nheld the Catholic faith, and would offer these terms because convinced\nof the utter impossibility of proving him to be wrong, it might be\nbarely tolerated. It is a form of speech that has sometimes been used\nby controversialists--Maguire, for instance--but it has none the less\nbeen always considered rash. That this was the sense in which {274}\nFather Spencer used it, is abundantly evident from other parts of the\nsermon. However, the proposition that a Catholic and a Protestant may\nmeet on equal terms to discuss their tenets, each open to conviction\nby the other's arguments, is simply erroneous and scandalous, to say\nnothing more. We cannot do such a thing without denying the very basis\nof our faith. Our faith is not opinion, nor is it certainty simply. It\nis something more. It is a divine virtue infused into our souls,\nwhereby we believe certain things. We must use reason to come to the\nevidence of faith, but faith once obtained must never be left at the\nmercy of the fickleness and weakness of any individual's understanding\nor power of argument.\n\nTo lay down the proposition we animadvert on, would be equivalent to\ndenying the objectivity of faith altogether. Whether a Catholic\nreasons well or ill, answers arguments or is confounded, his faith is\nthe same; it is not his faith simply, but the faith of the Catholic\nChurch, the faith given by God, which no man can add to or take from.\nNay, the very putting of oneself in the position here mentioned is a\nreal tempting God, if not undermining faith itself, by laying it open\nto the possibility of doubt. There is no use in deceiving Protestants,\ntherefore, by apparent concessions like the rash offer which we said\nmight be tolerated. It is impossible; our terms are fixed, and we are\nfixed in them, so that it is merely an exaggeration, in its mildest\nform. When, therefore, Father Spencer lays it down thus, and says that\nit is the spirit in which he would wish all Catholics to discuss, he\nmay be fairly taxed with the second interpretation. Whether or no, it\nwas wrong to preach it to all Catholics. Fancy a poor woman, who could\nscarcely read, entering into a discussion with an educated Protestant\non these terms. He was of course called to order for this sermon, but\nhis Catholic spirit was his safeguard. He first wondered how he had\nbeen wrong, but even laymen point out his mistake to him, and a word\nfrom the Bishop is enough to make him retract. Thus he soon found out\nthe keenness of Catholic instinct to anything coming from a priest\nthat even grazes the brink of error.\n\n\n{275}\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nSome Events Of Interest.\n\n\nIn the year 1840 Father Spencer had the happiness of hearing that his\ngreat friend, Dr. Wiseman, was consecrated bishop, and was coming from\nRome to be coadjutor to Dr. Walsh, and take up his residence in the\nvery College of Oscott where he himself was. Another event occurred,\nof no less interest. One of his brother priests, Dr. Wareing, was\nconsecrated Bishop of Ariopolis, and Vicar-Apostolic of a new\ndistrict, the Eastern district in England. Father Spencer preached the\nconsecration sermon; and these two additional bishops in England\nraised his hopes of the spread of the Catholic faith. It may not be\nout of place to insert a sentence or two from a letter this venerable\nbishop, who has retired from his pastoral duties in consequence of ill\nhealth for some time past, has written to one of our fathers.\n\n  \"On many occasions, while at Oscott College, the Superior, and\n  myself among the rest, often thought his zeal too unbounded and\n  rather imprudent, and could not sanction some of his projects and\n  undertakings. Though it cost him much, he always obeyed, and used to\n  pray that Heaven would direct his superiors, whose direction he\n  never refused to obey. I believe he never wished for anything but\n  the will of God, and waited patiently for its accomplishment. I\n  remember also on one occasion hearing him say, 'How _beautiful_ it\n  would be _to die in a ditch, unseen and unknown_.' [Footnote 9]\n  These were his very words; and I was forcibly struck when I {276}\n  heard of the exact circumstances of his holy death, to see how his\n  wish and prayer were granted to him.\"\n\n    [Footnote 9: This was his continual aspiration. He wished to die\n    like his Lord, deprived of human aid and sympathy.]\n\nHe receives news in the beginning of the year 1841 of six nuns having\nbound themselves by vow to pray for the conversion of England. But a\nmore beautiful and consolatory piece of information still was, that a\nFrench missioner had formed an association in Persia of prayers for\nthe same object. He goes to London and preaches in several churches,\namong others, in Lincoln's-Inn Fields, of course about the conversion\nof England, for he scarcely ever preached a sermon in which he did not\nintroduce this topic; nay, he never held a half-hour's conversation\nwithout introducing it.\n\nIt was about this time, too, that he came across Mr. Pugin the elder.\nHis first meeting was rather characteristic of both. Father Spencer\nhad preached a sermon somewhere on the conversion of England, and he\ngave benediction after it. Pugin came into the sacristy. The famous\nGoth saw Father Spencer in a Roman cope, and he comes up to him in a\nkind of nettlesome mood, saying, \"What! convert England with such a\ncope as that?\" Father Spencer says in a letter written at this time,\n\"I am not possessed with the enthusiastic zeal for correct forms\n(Gothic) which some are. It is not my special calling .... Mr. Pugin\nis the authority to which I would defer in these matters.\" The only\nother opinion of Pugin's he records in his letters, is that he said to\nFather Spencer one time, \"It is absurd to expect to get anything for\none's works from booksellers or publishers.\"\n\nAnother event that gave him joy, and afterwards a good deal of sorrow,\nwas the conversion of a well-known, clergyman. This remarkable convert\nlived some time in Oscott after his conversion. Father Spencer took\nhim with him sometimes on his parish duties, and had great hopes of\nhim. These were all disappointed when, in a couple of years, he went\nback again after being ordained priest and having said mass. Father\nIgnatius often spoke of him, often visited him, and asked others to\npray for him. He used to tell us one curious anecdote about him.\nShortly after his apostasy, {277} he was invited to a tea-party where\nEvangelical ladies assembled to congratulate themselves, and sip their\ntea with new relish by having it sugared with some telling remarks of\nthe lately-rescued slave from Popery. He was put several questions,\nsuch as \"What do you think of Transubstantiation?\" He answered, \"Oh,\nthat's as plain as possible in the Bible,\" and so forth. They were, of\ncourse, egregiously disappointed. Father Ignatius used to lament with\npeculiar anguish over this sad case. He always hoped for his return to\nthe Catholic faith, and, strange enough, one of the first pieces of\nnews in the way of conversion which we heard after Father Ignatius's\ndeath, was his return to the faith he had deserted.\n\nIn the middle of the year 1842, he visits Ireland for the first time;\nhe preaches in several places, in Dublin; especially for the Jesuits,\nin Gardiner Street; the Franciscans, Merchant's Quay. All, of course,\nabout the conversion of England. He says: \"My argument was, that the\nIrish having been specially victims of oppression under England, if I\ncould gain the Irish to pray for England, prayers springing from such\ncharity would be irresistible.\" He made a kind of a tour through\nIreland, and got as far as Tuam. He feared the Archbishop of Tuam,\nknowing his opposition to England, and his detestation of English\nrule. For that very reason Father Spencer was the more anxious to\nconvert him, or make him return good for evil. What was his surprise\nwhen he found the Archbishop not only kind and Irish in his\nhospitality, but really favourable to his projects. His grace got\nFather Spencer to preach, and promised him that he would give the\nsubstance of the same sermon to his people in their own sweet ancient\ntongue on the next Sunday. He was so enchanted at this, that he wrote\noff almost to every friend he had in the world about it. Though he\noften felt afterwards the powerful blows Dr. McHale delivered at\nEngland's doings, he never could forget his kind reception of himself,\nand always mentioned his grace's name with gratitude and reverence,\nonly wishing that he would not be so hard on England.\n\nThe next event he writes about was the arrival in England {278} of\nFather Dominic of the Mother of God (Passionist), and his staying at\nOscott for some time in order to learn English and wait for an opening\nin Aston to begin the first retreat of the English province. Before we\nquote his account of Father Dominic, it may be well to give a rather\ncharacteristic remark of his which occurs in the letter to Mrs.\nCanning, who was a great promoter, in the letter-writing way, of\nFather Dominic's coming. He says, \"Your accounts of yourself are\nalways interesting, as they must be in all cases where a person knows\nhow to delineate accurately his own interior; for, in seeing the\npicture of another well drawn, we always may discern little touches of\nour own portraiture which had before perhaps escaped us, and that\ngives all the pleasure of sympathy, which is one of the realest\npleasures.\"\n\nFurther on in the same letter he writes:--\n\n  \"Padre Domenico has had his cross to bear with us, all this time; it\n  is not like what usually makes crosses for people. He mourns over\n  having plenty to eat, having windows which keep the weather out,\n  having chairs to sit _on_, and tables to sit at, and longs to be in\n  his house, which I suppose will not have much of all this to trouble\n  him. I have to try to console him now and then, which I do by\n  telling him that I never hear of anything brought about in our\n  ecclesiastical arrangements without long delay, and yet all comes\n  right at last, with patience. I tell him also that he must have\n  known enough of the deliberativeness with which things of the kind\n  are settled by the known slowness of all things at Rome. However,\n  why should you have to bear this burden with us? You will, I hope,\n  be consoled before long by hearing that they are settled, and going\n  on, and have first a chair, then a table, then a kettle, and likely\n  to have a smoke-jack, toasting-fork, and such like in due course,\n  and, what will be not less interesting in its way, having good\n  novices, and plenty of converts.\"\n\nThe next thing he speaks about is not one event, but a series, though\nall only items in a great result for which he continually prayed and\nlaboured--the conversions, which multiplied every day. In 1843 he says\nthat converts are {279} received in Birmingham at the rate of one a\nday, and many more elsewhere. He also mentions with great satisfaction\nthat within the last year, 1842, three Anglican clergymen, four Oxford\nstudents, two countesses, and two earls' daughters had become\nconverts. Although Father Spencer mentions these particularly, it is\nnot to undervalue conversions from an humbler grade of life he does\nit. The soul of the beggar is as precious in the eyes of God, _apud\nquern non est acceptatio personarum_, as the soul of the king. Father\nSpencer did not undervalue the conversions of the middle and lower\nclasses on the contrary, he worked hard to get as many as possible\nfrom them. He had always notions of a great move towards Catholicity,\nand he thought that if the higher ranks took the lead in this, the\nothers would follow.\n\nIn 1844, he mentions his going to Nottingham with a large party, among\nwhom is Mr. Ward, \"one of the most advanced Oxford clergy. Oh! that he\nwould come a little further, but at present he seems to have no\nthoughts of it. God knows whether he may not soon get a little help\nonwards. Make a good prayer for this.\" Mr. Ward did get certainly\nonwards. Here and there we find sighs escape him about his beloved\npeople of Northampton and Brington. He did assuredly love his native\nplace intensely, and it must have been a trial to his feelings that he\ncould do nothing externally towards alleviating its spiritual\ndestitution.\n\n\n{280}\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nHis Tour On The Continent In 1844.\n\n\nIn 1844 he became so nervous and weak that he was forbidden exertion\nof any kind; his ailment is manifest in his tremulous handwriting. On\nmedical advice, he takes a tour on the Continent with Mr. and Mrs.\nPhillipps and their children. His account of this tour is preserved in\na Journal, and we think it well to give it entire, without any\ncompression.\n\n  On Wednesday, July 3rd, 1844, I set off from Grace Dieu Manor for a\n  tour on the Continent with my dear friend, Ambrose Phillipps, his\n  wife, his two eldest boys, Ambrose and Edward, and John Squires, his\n  servant. He took his carriage, in which he and his family sat on the\n  railway from Loughborough to London, while I went in a second-class\n  carriage. We arrived at the Burlington Hotel, and dined about 7\n  o'clock. Afterwards we went out different ways. I called at Dr.\n  Griffiths, but he was not at home. I had tea with Dr. Maguire, whom\n  I found at home; we had an hour's talk, about the Oxford men\n  principally. Got home about 10.\n\n  Thursday, July 4.--Went with the Phillippses to Father Lythgoe's, in\n  Bolton Street, where I said mass, and breakfasted at 10. I went to\n  see Dr. Chambers, in Brook Street, being ordered by Dr. Wiseman to\n  consult him as to the propriety of taking a long tour, as is\n  proposed by Phillipps. Dr. Chambers recognized me at once, as I used\n  in 1824 or 1825 to follow his visits to the patients in St. George's\n  Hospital, with a view to learn medicine. He judged it quite\n  necessary that I should have at least three months' absence from\n  work, and approved of my travelling with {281} moderate exertion. So\n  I am fixed at last to set off. God knows how I shall go through. The\n  present plan is to go through Belgium, to Munich, the Tyrol, Venice,\n  Milan, Turin, Lyons, Paris, and home; and my purpose is to get\n  prayers for England's conversion, and to see men rather than places\n  and things. After Dr. Chambers, I went to the Bank, to get my letter\n  of credit, then to Buckingham Palace, to see my sister. After I had\n  waited a half-hour she returned from her drive, and took me to her\n  nursery apartments at the top of the house. I had my first glance at\n  Prince Albert, going out to ride with Colonel Bouverie. From Sarah,\n  I went to Lyttelton's house, 39, Grosvenor Place, where I found\n  Caroline Lyttelton was expected home in an hour, and so I went on to\n  call on Sisk, who was out, and I came back and saw Lyttelton, with\n  whom I went in his carriage towards the House of Lords, and was set\n  down in St. James's Street. On the table in Grosvenor Place I saw\n  what I was 21 years ago, in a miniature painted by Ross--a blooming\n  rosy youth. I did not believe it till Caroline told me. I came to\n  dine with Sarah at 8, and staid till 10. Our conversation was most\n  interesting, about the Queen and the children, and the great people\n  from abroad, &c., whom she saw; above all, the Czar and the Duke of\n  Wellington. She set me down at our hotel at 10\u00bd, after calling at\n  Neville Grenville's, where I saw Lady Charlotte and a large family.\n\n  Friday, July 5th.--Mass and breakfast as yesterday. About 11 started\n  for Dover, in the same order as from Loughborough; arrived at 5. I\n  went to call on Mr. Savage, the priest, my old companion at Rome. He\n  does not seem a movement man. He came to tea with us.\n\n  Saturday, July 6th.--As the packet was to start at 7, I missed\n  saying mass. As it happened, we had to wait on board till 9 for the\n  mail. We had intended to cross to Ostend, but Phillipps, getting\n  afraid of the long crossing for sickness, so we all agreed to prefer\n  the shorter-by-half passage to Calais. We had a good passage, but we\n  all were miserable; the two boys were very sick. However, as the\n  French boatmen assured us, the tread of the dry land of {282} France\n  worked wonders to cure us all. We went to Dessin's Hotel. I was full\n  well reminded of September, 1819, my first landing in France, and of\n  divers other epochs, Sept. 1820, Nov. 1820, and Feb. 1830. Before\n  dinner we went to the church to give thanks, and commend our future\n  to God. I asked _le Suisse de l'Eglise_ (the verger) to pray for\n  England. Nothing else done at Calais. We started in the afternoon\n  for S. Omer, which we reached late. The country we passed was very\n  fertile; for the first time I have seen cultivation which struck me\n  as superior to English; the state of the people is manifestly more\n  happy and prosperous. After tea I went to the Grand Vicaire, M.\n  Dumez, to ask leave for mass, &c. I had forgotten to get credentials\n  from Dr. Wiseman, and so he hesitated, but gave the _celebret_. I\n  went on, though tired, to M. Durier, Cur\u00e9 de Notre Dame, who\n  received me most cordially, and on my stating my errand, pressed me\n  to preach at the high mass on the morrow. I hesitated, but he came\n  with me to our hotel, and Phillipps joined in pressing it, and so I\n  wrote a quarter of an hour's worth before going to bed, hoping I was\n  not out of rule, but doubting.\n\n  Sunday, July 7.--Said mass at Notre Dame, a fine Gothic church; went\n  home to breakfast, and back to high mass at 9\u00bd. After the Gospel, M.\n  Durier first read the _annonces_, the Epistle, and the Gospel, and\n  introduced my object to the people. Then I went into the pulpit, and\n  made my address without any difficulty. He then rose opposite to me,\n  and pledged himself and his flock to pray for England. After mass, I\n  went a round of the convents of the town with an old man sent from\n  one of them with me. The convents which promised their prayers were\n  the following:\n\n    Les Ursulines, 37 nuns; 300 scholars.\n\n    Les Soeurs Hospitali\u00e8res de S. Louis.\n\n    L'Hospice de S. Jean, served by nuns.\n\n    L'H\u00f4pital G\u00e9n\u00e9ral des enfants trouv\u00e9s, &c.\n\n    Les Religieuses de la Sainte famille.\n\n    Le Couvent du Saint Sacrement,\n      where are only 3 nuns, the Superioress an Englishwoman, who\n      observed that in her profession, when prostrate--a time when it\n      is said the chosen prayer is sure to be granted--the first thing\n      she asked was England's conversion.\n\n    Les Fr\u00e8res des \u00c9coles Chr\u00e9tiennes.\n      The Superior promised to recommend the prayers to his brethren\n      of 30 houses in this district, who meet in August for a retreat.\n\n{283}\n\n  \"We proceeded at 3 to Lille, stopping at the exit from St. Omer to\n  see the ruined Abbaye de St. Bertin. We stopped at Cussel, a place\n  on the top of a mountain commanding a grand prospect over a vast\n  plain richly wooded and cultivated. The ma\u00eetre d'h\u00f4tel wanted us\n  sadly to stay, but we went on, after a walk to the top of the mount,\n  and to the church. We came late to Lille, and not finding room at\n  l'H\u00f4tel de l'Europe, we put up at l'H\u00f4tel de Gand, not a very nice\n  one, in the Grande Place.\n\n  Monday, July 8.--I first went to the Church of St. Catherine, to see\n  Abbe Bernard, my friend, introduced by Mrs. Canning. He was gone,\n  yesterday, to Paris. I then went to Rue Royale, No. 61, memorable\n  for ever as the direction to which my letters from Brington to Miss\n  Dolling were addressed. M. Friot Chombard, who lives there, was also\n  absent from Lille. I then went to the Church of St. \u00c9tienne, where\n  the Grand Doyen lived; and, having seen him, I said mass. I then\n  called on him in his house, and obtained his promise to advocate the\n  cause of England. After breakfast, I went to the Church of St.\n  Maurice, which is called the Cathedral. It is the first I have seen\n  with four aisles. I saw nothing more in Lille; we left it about 12,\n  and reached Tournay about 2. I went at once to the \u00c9v\u00e9ch\u00e9, where I\n  found the Bishop's Secretary, who took me to a great convent of\n  nuns, which the Bishop has founded, and is building this house for.\n  It is to contain sixty nuns, and a great number of _pensionnaires_.\n  I was presented to his lordship in the garden, and obtained a full\n  promise of his patronage of the cause of England. I came back to\n  dine at the Hotel (du Singe d'Or); to my surprise and pleasure,\n  Talbot came in with Phillipps, who had met him in the Cathedral.\n  After dinner, he and I took a {284} carriage and went to see the\n  Passionists au Ch\u00e2teau d'Ere, about three miles off. Le P\u00e8re Pierre,\n  Superior of the house, received us with all kindness. He has three\n  companions priests, and three brothers. They were building a church\n  of good size, and seem to prosper; but he complains that no\n  postulants come; they have received not one cleric yet. He thinks\n  they fear the bare feet. He came back with us to Tournay, to see\n  Phillipps. Soon after, we started on our way to Brussels; still by\n  post horses, as all the way from Calais. We stopped at Alte to\n  sleep. The hotel was one of the most agreeable and cheapest, though\n  small.\n\n  Tuesday, July 9.--There are two churches at Alte. I went to St.\n  Julien's, and said mass. Afterwards I introduced Phillipps and\n  Madame to the Doyen, M. Picquart, who was most pleasing and full of\n  knowledge, and promised all for England. We here had a contest with\n  John, which threatened his being sent home, but he came round before\n  the day was out. We started at 10 for Brussels. The country not\n  equal to France. We came to the H\u00f4tel de Belle Vue, in the Place\n  Royale. Having engaged a suite of rooms, we sat down at once at the\n  _table d'h\u00f4te_. After it, I went to seek for the Abb\u00e9 Donnet, to\n  whom I had a note from Seager. He was out. I then went to Ste.\n  Gudule, the cathedral, and saw the Vicaire, a Dutch priest, with\n  whom I settled to say mass to-morrow. Then I took a _vigilante_\n  (i.e. a cab) to the College de St. Michel, of the Jesuits, where I\n  saw the Second Superior. Then to the Redemptorists, where the\n  Superior took up the cause warmly. Home to tea.\n\n  Wednesday, July 10.--Went at 7 to Abb\u00e9 Donnet; then to mass at Ste.\n  Gudule. At 9, Abb\u00e9 (Chanoine) Donnet called, and, after an hour's\n  talk about Oxford, took us to Monsignor Pacci, the Pope's Nuncio,\n  Archbishop of Damietta. He is a most holy-looking man; conversed\n  with us most kindly; knew much about the Oxford people; promised his\n  help. I then let the Phillippses go their way, intending to make a\n  day of canvassing convents. But M. Donnet took me only to three, and\n  then had to go his way at 12. The three were:--\n\n    Soeurs de Notre Dame, Rue de l'\u00c9toile, 14 nuns.\n\n    Pauvres Claires, Rue de Manige, Maison M\u00e8re a Bruges, 13 nuns.\n\n    Couvent de Bellaymont. Chanoinesses R\u00e9guli\u00e8res de St. Augustin.\n      Unique Maison.\n\n{285}\n\n  After this, I went to Ste. Gudule, and met Phillipps, with whom I\n  went to the Jardin Botanique, and to the hospital for old men. It is\n  a grand establishment, by private charity. It contains 700 old men,\n  of whom 100 pay for themselves; the rest are kept free, and with\n  wonderful regard to their comforts. I called on a cur\u00e9 close by,\n  thinking to get the prayers of these _vielliards_; but he took me\n  for a begging priest, and turned me out of doors. _Deo gratias_.\n  Thence to the Mus\u00e9e, a collection of pictures, which hardly paid the\n  trouble of looking at. After dinner at the _table d'h\u00f4te_, we took a\n  carriage to go to Jette St. Pierre, to meet the Cardinal Archbishop\n  of Malines, at the Convent of the Sacr\u00e9 Coeur there. On the way we\n  saw an interesting church; outside was a tomb of Madame Malibren. At\n  Jette, Madame de Wall, my friend of 1832 at Bordeaux, introduced us\n  to the Cardinal. This was a consolation indeed. He undertook to\n  recommend England to all the Bishops of Belgium, invited me to their\n  meeting on the 29th July, and promised that all their priests and\n  convents should engage in the cause. This is a noble convent. Madame\n  de Wall said they prayed for England every half-hour in the day.\n\n  Thursday, July 11.--Said mass at St. Jacques, in the Place Royale.\n  Went to Malines by the _chemin du fer_, Phillipps in the carriage on\n  a truck, I in a _char-\u00e0-banc_. Arrived at l'H\u00f4tel de la Grue just in\n  time for the _table d'h\u00f4te_, on which I only remark the immense\n  length of time taken to dine. After it, we went to the Petit\n  S\u00e9minaire, where we were warmly greeted by the Abb\u00e9 Bonqu\u00e9an, our\n  friend of Oscott and Grace Dieu. He took us about to a few places;\n  and at 5 to the Salut, at the Cathedral; after which he introduced\n  Miss Young, the convert, sister to Isabella. She went with us to\n  Hanicq's, the printer's, and to a fine old church, &c. I visited no\n  convents, reserving this for my return. Opposite our hotel, the\n  grand {286} Theatre des Lapons forced itself to be noticed till late\n  at night.\n\n  Friday, July 12.--After mass and breakfast, we went to visit the\n  Cardinal Archbishop, who graciously gave me a paper of testimonial,\n  which will, I hope, save some trouble. His countenance and manner\n  are highly prepossessing. At 12 we started for Antwerp, by railway,\n  leaving the carriage at the station at Malines. We arrived at the\n  H\u00f4tel St. Antoine, just in time for the _table d'h\u00f4te_ at 2. There I\n  met Mr. Blore, with his daughter, now grown a fine young woman.\n  After dinner, to the Cathedral. I need not speak of the glorious\n  tower, 466 feet high. What attracted our attention most was the\n  wonderfully beautiful restoration of the stalls in oak carved work;\n  40,000 francs have been spent in this already, and not half the\n  stalls are finished, and this actually in process of work is more\n  pleasing to see than the most beautiful morsels of ancient work, for\n  the promise it gives of better days. The pulpit is a mass of\n  exquisite carving, in a style seemingly favourite in this part of\n  Belgium. The most beautiful we saw was at Brussels, Ste. Gudule,\n  where, below the preacher, are seen Adam and Eve banished from\n  Paradise; and above, the head of the serpent, who winds round the\n  pulpit, crushed by Mary. The same style of carving is around the\n  pulpit at Marines, Louvain, &c., but is seen no more at Li\u00e9ge. After\n  seeing the cathedral, we went to the Mus\u00e9e, containing first-rate\n  specimens of Rubens, citizen of Antwerp; as also of Van Dyke and\n  Quintin Matsys, of whom there is an excellent picture of the Descent\n  from the Cross. Finding myself near the College of the Jesuits, I\n  went in and saw the Rector, who took up our cause zealously. He\n  walked home with me to see Phillipps, and they soon got intimate.\n\n  Saturday, July 13.--After mass in the cathedral, we went, by last\n  night's appointment, to visit the Superior of the Jesuits, who\n  showed us his house. Then, Phillipps going to see some churches,\n  &c., I went with a lay brother, given me for guide by the Superior,\n  to visit convents.\n\n{287}\n\n  We called at the following:--\n\n    Coletines, pr\u00e8s la Porte Rouge, 28 nuns\n\n    Dames de l'Instruction Chr\u00e9tienne, 17 nuns\n\n    Soeurs de Notre Dame, 20 nuns\n\n    Soeurs Grises, 34 nuns\n\n    Soeurs Noires, 49 nuns\n\n    Apostolines, in two houses, 67 nuns\n\n    Soeurs de Charit\u00e9, 12 nuns\n\n    B\u00e9guinage (that is, a collection of houses, in which Sisters live\n      under a Superioress, not bound by vows for life) 54 nuns\n\n  Except the latter, where I was referred to the Director, who was not\n  so attentive, all received the proposal warmly. The brother was my\n  interpreter with many, who did not know French. At 1 we got home,\n  and I took the Phillippses to the cur\u00e9 of the cathedral, who\n  introduced to us M. Durlet, the young architect, who, with a partner\n  at Louvain, is doing the beautiful work in the choir. We went into\n  the cathedral again, and I was prevented going to two remaining\n  convents, but the cur\u00e9 promised to do it for me. M. Durlet came to\n  dine with us at the _table d'h\u00f4te_. I just called at l'H\u00f4tel du\n  Park, to see Miss Dalton, who is ill there. Mr. Turpin and Mr.\n  Crowe, two Lancashire priests, are with her. The former accosted me\n  in the cathedral. We set off then to Malines by the railway; there\n  met Abb\u00e9 Bonqu\u00e9an; had tea, and went on to Louvain. We got in late,\n  in heavy rain; Phillipps had to walk from the railway a mile in the\n  rain. I went first to the H\u00f4tel de Suide, where I found Dr.\n  Ullathorne and Mr. Hansom, his architect.\n\n  7th Sunday af. Pent. July 14.--I had my palpitation worse than ever\n  to-day. I wish to attribute it to my two days' abstinence, and not\n  to my walking after convents. It went off after breakfast. I said\n  mass at the Cathedral St. Pierre. High mass at 10. It was one of\n  extreme opposition to plain chant, with drums and orchestra. In this\n  church remember the beautiful tabernacle, a stone pinnacle, on the\n  Gospel side of the altar. There was no _pr\u00f4ne_, and a second high\n  mass immediately after. The H\u00f4tel de Ville is a famous piece of\n  Gothic, not so admirable to my view as {288} that at Brussels, which\n  is much larger, not so highly wrought, and has a beautiful spire.\n  After dinner, at 1, with Dr. Ullathorne, and at the _table-d'h\u00f4te_,\n  we went to see M. and Madame de Coux. We got into interesting talk\n  with him on matters religions, ecclesiastical, and political. He is\n  a professor of political economy, a Frenchman, brought up in England\n  under old Dr. Woods. We went on till after 5, and so missed the\n  _salut_, sermon, and procession at the church. He took us to the\n  University, where we saw Abb\u00e9 Malou, who claimed me as an old\n  acquaintance, one of the three at the Collegio Nobile whom I knew at\n  Rome. He is Professor of Dogmatic Theology, most learned, high bred,\n  and amiable. M. Bonqu\u00e9an came kindly to meet us from Malines, and\n  was with us till 6. After having spent nearly an hour with M. Malou,\n  who showed us the library (10,000 vols.) of which he is keeper, we\n  went to tea with M. de Coux, and came home at 9\u00bd.\n\n  Monday, July 15. St. Swithin.--Mass at St. Pierre, for the Feast _de\n  Divisione Apostolorum_. After breakfast I went again to M. de Coux,\n  who took me to see a M. M\u00fchler, whom he recommended as tutor to John\n  Beaumont. At 12, railway to Liege. Dined at 5, at l'H\u00f4tel de France.\n  At 6, _salut_ at St. Denys. Before dinner I went to the\n  Redemptorists, but found P\u00e8re Van Held and Deschamps out of town.\n  The Bishop also away. We went at 7 a walk to a bookseller's, from\n  which I went in quest of the Grand Vicaire. I met an old priest in\n  the street, Abb\u00e9 Marsomme, who took me to M. Jacquenot, the second\n  Grand Vicaire, and then walked home and took tea with us. These two\n  promised to spread prayer for England through Liege. I wrote to Mrs.\n  Beaumont before bed.\n\n  Tuesday, July 16.--Our Lady of Mount Carmel.--Mass at St. Denys,\n  where is a beautiful piece of old oak carving. Phillippses received\n  communion. After breakfast, at 9, we went to high mass at the\n  cathedral. It was solemn plain chant. The church has many\n  stained-glass windows, like those of Ste. Gudule, Brussels, of 1550,\n  much gone off from the older time. The pulpit is new carved oak,\n  with a beautiful tower with pinnacles above, a great improvement on\n  {289} the carved pulpit above named, though not so costly perhaps.\n  The church is much debased, as usual, in other parts. We met\n  Chanoine Erroye, who took us to the other great church, St. Jacques,\n  which rivals or surpasses the cathedral. The ceiling coloured,\n  though like the cathedral. They are doing a great deal to restore\n  this church. The Doyen was there overlooking the work. The stained\n  glass was much better than at Brussels, but not the best (date\n  1527); not so far down hill. The Chanoine then took us to the Abb\u00e9\n  Marsomme, who is Director of an hospice with 19 nuns, taking care of\n  180 old women, beautifully kept. The Quarant' Ore was being\n  celebrated in this church. It is kept up in Li\u00e9ge all the year\n  round, and comes four times to each church. We then went with the\n  Chanoine Erroye to the Grand S\u00e9minaire. The library is beautiful.\n  There are here 120 students; and at the Petit S\u00e9minaire, 360. They\n  go through nine courses at the Petit, and three at the Grand, so\n  that 40 are sent on the mission every year, and 40 more come on\n  below. Came home to _table d'h\u00f4te_ at 1. After it we made an attempt\n  to go to Angleur, 3 miles off, where Mrs. Ambrose's father, Hon.\n  Thomas Clifford, who died at Li\u00e9ge in 1817, is buried. We were\n  stopped by mud and rain, and came back, seeing the church of Ste.\n  Croix, which was not very remarkable (_Mem_. a dog carrying the keys\n  as porter), and St. Martin, a fine church of second rate, but famous\n  as the place where, at one of the side altars, the feast of Corpus\n  Christi was celebrated for the first time, owing to the inspirations\n  received by a nun called Soeur Julienne. The 6th Centenary will be\n  held in 1846. We met a young, amiable-looking priest in the church.\n  He promised to think of England at the altar, in the special mass of\n  the Blessed Sacrament, which is celebrated at it every Thursday,\n  whatever feast may interpose. It was heavy rain, and we came home to\n  _salut_ at St. Denys, and thence to the hotel. I wrote up a good\n  deal of this journal.\n\n  Wednesday, July 17. St. Osmond.--We took a stouter equipage, and got\n  to Angleur early. I said mass, and the Phillippses communicated over\n  the place of her father's repose. The boys served the mass. The\n  Cur\u00e9, Matthias Jn. Convardy, who remembered Mr. Clifford while\n  himself quite {290} young, gave us breakfast after, very kindly. All\n  these priests were warm for England. We returned to Li\u00e9ge, and I\n  went to the banker; then home to dinner at 1. Then went off by\n  railway to Aix-la-Chapelle. It passes through beautiful romantic\n  scenery. There is no railway with so many tunnels in the distance. I\n  got into conversation with a party of Oxonians going to spend the\n  long vacation at Baden. One of them, Mr. G. F. Brown, of Trinity,\n  was full of information, and quite moving on, a great friend of W.\n  Palmer, of Magdalen. He promised to visit Oscott. We came to the\n  H\u00f4tel Nuelleus, a very grand one. I went to the Chief Canon, the\n  Grand Vicaire being gone to Cologne, and got leave for mass\n  to-morrow. We are now in Prussia, and all on a sudden all\n  German--hardly a word of French spoken. We had tea, and I finished\n  my Journal up, in my room, after saying matins.\n\n  Thursday, July 18.--I went to the cathedral, and after mass, saw the\n  wonderful relics which are preserved in the sacristy of the\n  cathedral. This cathedral consists of a round Byzantine building,\n  which was built by Charlemagne as the chapel to his palace; and a\n  high Gothic choir, which was added to it after the palace had been\n  burnt down. A young priest showed the relics; he is always in\n  waiting for the purpose, except for the time of high mass and\n  office. The great relics--viz., the dress of the Blessed Virgin, the\n  clothes which our Lord had on Him on the cross, and the cloth into\n  which John Baptist's head fell--are kept in a magnificent chest,\n  which is shown, but is only opened every seven years, and when a\n  crowned head comes. The next time is July 10, 1846. Above this chest\n  is one containing the bones of Charlemagne, whose skull and\n  spine-bone, and even hunting-horn, are shown in separate\n  reliquaries. His crown and sword are at Vienna. Here is shown also\n  the girdle of our Lord, of leather, with Constantine's seal upon it;\n  the rope with which he was tied to the pillar; the girdle of Our\n  Lady; and many other glorious relics less important. The interior of\n  the doors enfolding these treasures is lined most beautifully with\n  paintings of Albert Durer, and many admirable Byzantine paintings.\n  {291} These relics were principally given to Charlemagne by the\n  Caliph, Haroun Alraschid. The cases were gifts of several emperors,\n  &c., as Lothaire, Charles V., Philip II. They were preserved in the\n  French Revolution by a priest, who conveyed them to Paderborn and\n  hid them. After breakfast I returned to the cathedral with Phillipps\n  for high mass, which was in solemn plain chant, and then saw the\n  relics again at 11\u00bd, after going to the Palais de Justice. At 12 I\n  got a little dinner, and went by the railway to Grand, parting from\n  the Phillippses, please God, for a fortnight only. I went to bed at\n  the H\u00f4tel de Flandre, leaving no luggage--all left at Malines.\n\n  Friday, July 19.--Went to the cathedral to say mass. My morning was\n  taken up with going to the railway about my poor luggage, which at\n  last I saw, and visiting the Provincial of the Jesuits, to see about\n  my retreat. I dined at the hotel. The cathedral is a most beautiful\n  specimen of the Greek fittings in a Gothic church. I did not stop to\n  have the finest pictures uncovered, for I had my business to see\n  after. Two other beautiful churches, St. Nicholas and St. Michael.\n  No signs here of Gothic restorations. At 3 I went with the\n  Provincial to Franchismes, where they have bought an ancient\n  Pr\u00e9montr\u00e9 Abbey, which does not preserve much of the abbey still,\n  except some corridors, once, as it seems, cloisters. It is, however,\n  a beautiful establishment for its end. I saw and spoke to two\n  English and one Irish novice, of course about England. I went back\n  to Gand; and there P\u00e8re Coultins, by desire of the Provincial, went\n  with me to the Recollets, a reform of the Franciscans; their chief\n  house is at St. Froud. Then to the Pauvres Claires; and then to one\n  of the two B\u00e9guinages. Here are establishments, in one of which 800,\n  and in the other 300, _quasi_ nuns live in a cluster of separate\n  houses.\n\n  Their origin is immemorial. They are bound by vows of obedience and\n  chastity, not poverty, for the time that they remain. Hardly ever\n  does one return to the world. The P\u00e8re Coultins promised to visit\n  for me the other convents of the town. This is what I could do for\n  Ghent. At 6, I started by railway to Louvain, where I was received\n  as an {292} old acquaintance at the H\u00f4tel de Suide. The Provincial\n  sends me here for my retreat. In the train to Malines, I had Mr.\n  Maude and Mr. Perry. Finished Journal, and to bed at near 12.\n\n  Saturday, July 20.--After mass at the cathedral, and breakfast, I\n  went to the Seminary of the Jesuits, with a letter from the\n  Provincial to P\u00e8re Rosa, the rector. He introduced me to P\u00e8re\n  Vanderghote, who is to direct my retreat, and left me with him. We\n  went to walk about the town, called on M. Malou, who undertook to\n  translate a prayer from Dr. Wiseman's prayers for England, into\n  French. I called on Mr. De Coux, and at I dined with these two\n  fathers, and we went into the garden. I then wrote to Dr. Wiseman,\n  Phillipps, and M. Bonqu\u00e9an, and at \u00bc to 5 began my retreat for eight\n  days please God, till the end of which my present journal intermits.\n  _Orate pro me omnes qui diligitis Deum_.\n\n  Monday, July 29.--I rose this morning out of my retreat, hoping that\n  by the help of Almighty God I may preserve some of its fruit\n  durably. I said mass once more at 7\u00bd in the private chapel, then\n  after a conversation with my kind Father Vanderghote, I went to the\n  College du Saint Esprit, where I saw M. Malou, and then went into\n  the hall, where theses were defended by a young priest called\n  Bacten, and then degrees conferred, and a discourse in Latin\n  pronounced by Abb\u00e9 Malou. The Nuncio and the Bishop of Amiens were\n  there, with many others. At 2 I dined with M. Malou. The chief\n  guests were the Grand Vicaire de Bruges, a monseigneur, and Abb\u00e9\n  Marais, of the Sorbonne; much conversation was on England, and some\n  good interest excited. I went again to see P\u00e8re Rosa, and\n  Vanderghote, and at 6\u00bd was on the railway to Malines with a\n  multitude of priests. I went to the Petit S\u00e9minaire, and supped, and\n  M. Bonqu\u00e9an walked with me to the Grue.\n\n  Tuesday, July 30.--Said mass at the cathedral, and then at 8 went to\n  the Archbishop's palace, where, with much trouble, I got at the\n  Chanoine's private secretary, who introduced me to the Cardinal and\n  his five suffragan Belgian {293} Bishops of Bruges, Tournay, Gand,\n  Namur, and Liege, sitting after breakfast. I sat down, and in a\n  short conversation a great deal seemed to be done for the cause. I\n  was desired to draw up documents with M. Bonqu\u00e9an to-day, and to\n  dine with the prelates at 1 to-morrow, to hear their conclusion.\n  _Laus Deo semper_. At 10\u00bd I went to M. Bonqu\u00e9an, where I found two\n  young Oxford men, whom I afterwards found were Christie of Oriel and\n  his brother. They went with M. Bonqu\u00e9an and me on all our rounds to\n  the convents of the town to-day. At 12 I dined at the Petit\n  S\u00e9minaire, then, with M. Bonqu\u00e9an and M. Vandervelde, who was very\n  zealous for England, I began to prepare for to-morrow; at 4\u00bd the\n  Christies came, and we walked till 7. The convents which we went to,\n  and which all promised, and (except one which was cold) all with\n  great warmth, were:--\n\n    Les Soeurs Hospitali\u00e8res de Ste. Elisabeth, 21 nuns.\n\n    Les Marie Colae 17 nuns.\n\n    Soeurs de Charit\u00e9, not St. Vincent's, but a house under the\n      direction of the Grand S\u00e9minaire, 23 nuns.\n\n    Soeurs de Notre Dame, Abb\u00e9 Bonqu\u00e9an is Director here; we saw an\n      interesting English novice, and stayed some time, 30 nuns.\n\n    Les Soeurs Apostolines, 24 nuns.\n\n    Les Pauvres Claires, not so zealous, 25 nuns.\n\n  Lastly, we visited a new house and institute called Fr\u00e8res de la\n  Mis\u00e9ricorde, lately founded by a canon of the cathedral, by name\n  Scheppers. There are now 27 brothers, of whom 25 are on their\n  mission, which is to enter, several together, the prisons of the\n  country, and devote themselves to the spiritual and bodily care and\n  cure of the prisoners. The Government favours them remarkably; it\n  seems a most notable institution, and the founder was a most\n  interesting man. He promised warmly to engage all his brethren. At\n  7\u00bd I went to the station, and met Elwes, on his way home from\n  Kissengen. I brought him up, and we had supper at the Grue. I went\n  to bed after a good bit of work to be got up, office, Journal,\n  account, &c.\n\n{294}\n\n  Wednesday, July 31. St. Ignatius.--Elwes and I said mass at the\n  cathedral. From 10 till near 1 he and I were both at work copying an\n  address for the Bishops, of which I thought to give each a copy. At\n  one I went to dine at the Cardinal's. There were there six Bishops\n  and the Nuncio, and many of the chief clergy. I sat next to Mgr. de\n  Namur; afterwards I took an hour's walk in the garden, and at 4\n  attended the meeting of the Bishops, who came to a happy resolution\n  of granting an indulgence of 40 days for every mass, every\n  communion, even hearing mass, or saying it with a memento for\n  England, and reciting a prayer which they determined on. The\n  Cardinal was full of noble kindness. This grant was more than I had\n  proposed in my paper, and so my morning's work and Elwes's was\n  useless in a very agreeable way. I went to the Grue and found M.\n  Bonqu\u00e9an and the Christies with Elwes. In packing up I found my\n  passport was lost, and went off, therefore, uncertain whether I\n  could pass the frontier without writing for one to Brussels. The\n  Christies travelled with me. I had some interesting conversation\n  with each about their position in the Church of England. They took\n  it with great gentleness, and answered well. They seem not to have\n  thought of coming over, and yet to be in good disposition to do what\n  they shall see right. We met very agreeably with the very priest of\n  whom we have heard so much, who learnt English to instruct a lady in\n  his parish near Bruges, whose daughter was already a convert, and\n  writes letters to Dr. Wiseman for publication in England (Miss\n  Heron). We became great friends, and he, with another young priest,\n  his neighbour, who are taking a little tour together, came with us\n  to the Aigle Noir, nearer the Redemptorists than l'H\u00f4tel de France.\n  We were very nearly upset in the omnibus, as we came up from the\n  station; it was overloaded with luggage, and struck the wheels on\n  the right in the sand, having got off the paving. We got out,\n  unhurt, into another omnibus passing by; supper, and to bed.\n\n  Thursday, August 1.--Said mass at the Redemptorists. Le P\u00e8re Van\n  Held invited us all to breakfast, i.e., the Christies {295} and the\n  priests, our new friends. I met there the Bishop's secretary, who\n  gave me a letter to the Governor of Liege, Baron Van der Stein, who,\n  happily, was come this morning into town, and gave me my passport. I\n  then went on with my _vigilante_ to see the Miss Nicholls, who have\n  been living two years at the Benedictine convent, Quai d'Avroy. I\n  met them last at Boulogne, in 1838. They promised to be busy in\n  getting prayers. I then visited the Jesuits' College, and Abb\u00e9\n  Marsomme. Dined at 1 at the _table d'h\u00f4te_ with the Christies, whom\n  P\u00e8re Van Held had sent about sight-seeing with one of his priests.\n  At 2.45 we took the convoy to Cologne, which we reached duly at 9\u00bc,\n  and went to the H\u00f4tel du Douane, Gasthof zum K\u00f6lner Dom, close to\n  the cathedral; we took a walk round the cathedral by moonlight after\n  supper.\n\n  Friday, August 2.--I went to say mass in the cathedral, which we\n  then looked round. It gives a melancholy spectacle of what miserable\n  times have been gone through while it remained thus unfinished so\n  long; but it is a consolation to see the glorious restoration now\n  going on. The most beautiful points of the decoration of the choir\n  are the fresco paintings above the pillars, and the rich gilded\n  diapering on the lower part of them round the choir, in which one\n  column alone is finished; and beautiful figures under canopies on\n  each column, half-way to the top. The building is surrounded with\n  great masses of stones for the completing of it. It is expected that\n  it will be finished, fit for consecration, in four years, but not\n  quite complete till twenty years hence, please God, if we have\n  peace. After breakfast we went to call on Professor Michel, at the\n  Seminary. He could not come with us. We saw the Jesuits' church, and\n  returned to assist at part of a requiem mass at the cathedral, the\n  anniversary of the Archbishop Ferdinand. I spoke to the\n  Vicar-General about England, then went home, wrote to M. Malou,\n  dined alone; and at 1 set off by a steamboat on the Rhine for\n  Koenigswinter, parting from the Christies in the boat. I had nothing\n  very remarkable in the passage; reached Koenigswinter at 5. I took\n  up my lodgings at the H\u00f4tel de Berlin, where the Phillippses had\n  been for twelve days. {296} They came in from a ride in the\n  mountains about 6, and we went to tea with Count and Countess\n  Kurtzrock. He is Mrs. Ambrose's second cousin. Their daughter Marie\n  and her governess gave us music.\n\n  Saturday, August 3.--Said mass at the little church at Sta. Maria.\n  The altar with altar-cloth only over the altar stone. The rest of\n  the altar was brown wood. We breakfasted with Mrs. P.'s aunt, La\n  Baronne de Veich, whom they are visiting. She lives in a small house\n  with two nieces, Antoinette and Fanny Lutzou. At 10 we went across\n  the Rhine to Gothsburg, a watering-place, where Mrs. Amherst and\n  daughter have been staying; but they are gone to Italy. We walked up\n  to a castle battered into ruin in the Thirty Years' war, overhanging\n  the town. The little church half-way up the hill is a bad specimen\n  of taste enough inside. We came back to dinner at the Baroness's at\n  2. I went home for two hours, then walked with Phillipps and Tony,\n  as they call Antoinette, to see a house which she is undertaking to\n  form into an asylum for old poor women; back to tea, and home to the\n  hotel at 9.\n\n  Sunday, August 4. 10th after Pentecost, here marked 9th.--I heard\n  mass at 7 with the famous Kirchen Gesang, of whom I heard from Dr.\n  Sweers while translating Overbury's Life. All the people sang German\n  hymns through the whole mass with wonderful unison. After it I said\n  mass. At 10 was the high mass, i.e., another mass with Kirchen\n  Gesang, rather more solemn; and a sermon. I came home then and wrote\n  a letter to the Vicar-General at Cologne. I received from M.\n  Bonqu\u00e9an my book of papers pro Anglia, which I had left at Malines.\n  At 1, dinner. Professor Schutz, of the University of Bonn, came to\n  dine. We saw him off at 3, and then found that some one must go to\n  Bonn to get money from the bank; so I took the charge, that I might\n  see Bonn. I crossed the Rhine in a boat, and met an omnibus which\n  took me on the road I travelled in 1820. The cathedral at Bonn,\n  called the M\u00fcnster, is of a style older than Gothic, but not quite\n  Byzantine, something like our Saxon churches. The choir is elevated\n  high above the nave, which sinks below the level outside, or the\n  outside {297} must have risen. Some arches are Gothic. The\n  University is a large building, what would be called Grecian. In\n  front of it is a handsome promenade or park. At 7\u00bd I called a second\n  time at Professor Schutz's house, and found him with M. Marais, of\n  the Sorbonne. He gave me coffee, &c. His rooms are full of\n  curiosities from Palestine and Egypt. In 1819, 1820, and 1821, he\n  was travelling, commissioned by Government, a literary journey\n  through Egypt, Abyssinia, &c. He is Professor of Scripture, a great\n  Orientalist, a friend of Dr. Wiseman's. We spoke about Humanarianism\n  and Overbury, and the Paris University, &c. I went out and met my\n  omnibus at a \u00bc to 9, crossed the Rhine, and got home at 10.\n\n  Monday, August 5. Sta. Maria ad Nives.--Mass at 7\u00bd; at 9 we went to\n  a high mass de requiem. They always sing one for every person who\n  dies; and when the family can afford it, bread is given to the poor,\n  as was done to-day. I stayed at home nearly, till one, then dinner\n  at la Baronne's. Mr. Ambrose was not there, having had a fall\n  yesterday, and taking rest for precaution. After dinner, looked over\n  the Life of Napoleon in German; came home till I went to tea. The\n  Count and Countess Kurtzrock and daughters came. The Countess\n  promised to be an associate for England, and to spread it at\n  Hamburg, where they live.\n\n  Friday, August 6th.--Mass at 6. I started at 7.30 by a steamer for\n  Mayence. We passed Coblentz (lat. _confluentia_), at the confluence\n  of the Moselle and the Rhine, at 1, and then dined (_table d'h\u00f4te_)\n  on deck. We made agreeable acquaintance with two priests, M. Bandry,\n  Chanoine of Cologne, and M. Steigmeier, a P.P. in the Black Forest.\n  The first went off at Coblentz, the second spoke only Latin; both\n  were highly interested for England. I was busy a good deal with\n  reading German, with a dictionary. The weather was beautiful till\n  about 6, when suddenly a terrible squall of wind, and thunder and\n  lightning came on. The steamer was driven aground on a sand-bank,\n  and seemed likely to capsize with the wind and waves. Terrible\n  fright and crying among ladies and children. We seemed to think\n  little of the rain and lightning which gleamed on every side {298}\n  of us. It was very frightful; at least, it appeared so, and I saw\n  what a warning was given here to be ready at a moment. No great\n  preparation, I found, would be likely to be made in a time like\n  that. It brought on me a palpitation which lasted till morning. We\n  got off after ten minutes, as the storm blew over, and got to the\n  H\u00f4tel du Rhine at Mayence (Mainz) about 9. My greatest alarm since\n  Messina.\n\n  Wednesday, Aug. 7. San. Gaetano. Remembered Affi, 1820.--Said mass\n  at the cathedral. This is a venerable old church, St. Boniface's\n  see. It is something like our Norman style of architecture; at the\n  west end is a remarkable baptistery, with a high vaulted roof now\n  opening to the church. There are many fine monuments, and many more\n  of the worst style; fauns and dragons supporting archbishops, &c.\n  They showed us a holy-water stoup, where Gustavus Adolphus, having\n  ridden into the church, made his horse drink! Near the church is a\n  statue of Guttenburg, the first printer, claimed as a citizen of\n  Mainz; bas-reliefs by Thorwaldsen. We had not time to see more. I\n  was not disposed, with my palpitation just subsiding, to go after\n  the Archbishop or others. We started past for Manheim; on the way we\n  looked at the torn-down cathedral of Worms, in a later style than\n  Mayence, and very venerable. This place was famous in the contests\n  between Charles V. and Luther. We dined at Manheim, then took the\n  railway to Heidelberg, where we put up at the Badische Hof. We saw\n  nothing at Manheim but the appearance of the town, which is very\n  handsome. A French gentleman whom I met in the town, Girardon, of\n  Lyons, said the ducal palace was very grand.\n\n  Thursday, Aug. 8.--I went out at 9\u00bd, having had rather a bad night,\n  and said mass at the Jesuits' old church, which is now the only\n  exclusively Catholic church in Heidelberg. The cur\u00e9 lives in an old\n  college; the church was dreary and empty, and things seem to be at a\n  low point. We went after breakfast in a carriage to the ruins of the\n  castle, which are fine in their way, but not of the right style.\n  Luther was fostered here by the Elector Palatine. It was burnt by\n  {299} lightning in 1764. In the altar we saw the great tun, which is\n  no wonder to my mind. At 11 we took the railway to Baden, through\n  Carlsruhe. There we took a walk before dinner, saw the gaming-table,\n  which is a famous occupation here; I never saw one before in a\n  public saloon. I met Mr. Woollett. a Catholic of London, and his two\n  daughters. He wants confession to an English priest, and I went with\n  him to the convent of the Sepulchrines to see about it. They\n  promised prayers for England. 12 nuns; the same order as New Hall;\n  dinner at 5. Then we took a carriage to the ruins of the old castle,\n  much grander than at Heidelberg. I did not venture to go up the\n  castle, as I felt myself not fit. We came back to tea with Mrs.\n  Craven, n\u00e9e La Ferronaye, wife of the English _Charg\u00e9 d'affaires_,\n  who is a convert. We met l'Abb\u00e9 Martin de Nerlieu, cur\u00e9 de S. Jaques\n  \u00e0 Paris, and his vicaire, and Miss Jane Young. Home at 9\u00bd.\n\n  Friday, August 9.--I had to take a carriage and go at 6 o'clock to\n  Lichtenthal, a mile or two from Baden, where the Herr Landherr is\n  cur\u00e9, and has power to give leave to hear confessions. There is a\n  convent there of 18 nuns, Bernardines, who promised to pray for\n  England. I returned and said mass at the convent in Baden, having\n  first heard the confessions of Mr. Woollett and Miss Young's maid. I\n  thought that night, as I lay in bed with my heart beating, that I\n  must see a doctor to-day, and consult about the propriety of\n  travelling; but the Phillippses both reasoned against this, and I\n  saw it differently by daylight. We dined at the _table d'h\u00f4te_ at 1,\n  and then set off on our way towards Munich. We travelled to-day\n  through the grand scenery of the Black Forest, and arrived at 9 at\n  Neuenburg, where there was a very civil host, and a nice inn, though\n  a second rate.\n\n  Saturday, August 10. St. Lawrence.--The first, I think, (no, except\n  1835), on which I have lost mass since my priesthood; but there was\n  no Catholic church. We made a slow day's journey; we began badly by\n  going the first stage to Wildbad, from which we returned nearly to\n  Neuenburg, as it seemed on our road right. The reason was, as we\n  {300} thought, that they directed us wrong yesterday, and sent us a\n  longer road, whereas we should have got straight to Wildbad, without\n  going to Neuenburg. We should have had a chapel at Wildbad, where a\n  priest came during the season only. We got to Stuttgard at 5, and\n  had a splendid dinner at the hotel. We met an old courier of Mr.\n  Phillipps's, afterwards clerk at the Foreign Office, who lives here\n  on a pension from England. He knew Cavani. He lives now at this\n  hotel. Stuttgard seems an uninteresting place for a capital; has\n  4,000 inhabitants only. It is well to have seen it. We went on again\n  in the evening to get to G\u00f6ppingen, where we we were told there was\n  a Catholic church, and we did not get to bed till 2; I fasting for\n  to-morrow, and fearing a bad night.\n\n  H\u00f4tel de la Poste, Sunday, Aug. 11.--I slept well, after all. I got\n  up at 8, and we started directly in heavy rain for Gross Eplingen,\n  two miles on our way, where the nearest Catholic church was. There\n  was none in G\u00f6ppingen. We arrived at the middle of the parochial\n  mass. The Kirchen Gesangen are very impressive. After it I said\n  mass, and after visiting the pastor, we went on to Ulm, which we\n  reached at 5 about. Radhoff (Wheat) Hotel. Before dinner we went and\n  spent a long time in the old cathedral, now a Lutheran church, and\n  for that reason, however strangely, preserved wonderfully from\n  spoiling. It was most magnificent; the aisles divided by most\n  elegant pillars, a most glorious tabernacle, still standing, far\n  surpassing Louvain. The old triptic, with a beautiful group in\n  wood-carving, still over the altar; a beautiful pulpit in the style\n  of the tabernacle; the screen was gone; and the stained glass\n  preserved only in the choir and one or two more places; but so far,\n  I thought it the richest I knew. It was wonderful how much better\n  was the appearance of the church than if it had been in Catholic\n  hands. After dinner was busy upstairs till 10\u00bd.\n\n  Monday, Aug. 12.--Got up at 5\u00bd; we were taken to the Catholic\n  church, a poor thing, compared with the ancient one. I said mass\n  there at 8; at 9\u00bd we started for Augsburg. There was nothing\n  remarkable on the way but the {301} excessive slowness of the\n  Bavarian post-boys; they are remarkable, I believe, among the\n  Germans. We dined about 5, at a small town called Tusmarchausan, a\n  neat, clean, country town. Talked French with an old Italian who\n  attends at the inn, and Latin with a Dominican priest, in a blue\n  great-coat and Hessian boots. We set off again at 7, and reached\n  Augsburg at 9\u00bd or 10. Put up at the Three Moors,--Drei Mohren.\n\n  Tuesday, Aug. 13.--Went to say mass at the Church of St. Ulrick, at\n  the altar of St. Afra, whose body was shown in a glass case over it,\n  as it is within the octave of her feast. She was martyred at\n  Augsburg, under Domitian. After breakfast, I went to the bank, then\n  to the cathedral, where there was a high mass _de requiem_; then I\n  went to seek the Chanoine Stadler, a great friend of the English. I\n  first saw another canon, and the Dean, at the consistorium; spoke\n  about England. I found Canon Stadler at a convent called _of the\n  English nuns_, because founded by English 200 years ago; an\n  examination of the girls under education was going on. The\n  Regierung's President and other personages were there. I sat near\n  the canon at this for half an hour; then went home to dinner. There\n  came to dine a Scotch Kirk minister, who was at the convent which I\n  visited, Mr. ---- He is almost a Catholic in doctrine, but is\n  connected with the Apostolics in England, and so has, I think, no\n  disposition to turn now. Canon Stadler came late to dinner, and\n  persuaded me to put off our journey to Munich from the three to the\n  seven o'clock train. He took us to the Church of the Holy Cross, to\n  see the miraculous Host, which, in 1194, was stolen by a woman of\n  Augsburg, taken home, and wrapped in wax. After five years, she\n  confessed it, and brought it back. On opening the wax, the priest\n  found the appearance changed into that of flesh and blood. It has\n  been preserved ever since, and has been the means of many miracles.\n  We saw it in an _ostensoire_, quite bright-red. The choir of the\n  church is surrounded with pictures on the subject. We then went to\n  the convent again, from, whence the Scotch gentleman took me to the\n  bishop, whom we found near the cathedral. He talked no French, and I\n  {302} recommended England as I could in Latin. We went to the Canon\n  Stadler's house, where the Phillippses were waiting; we parted from\n  him, and came and had tea at the Hof, and then took railway to\n  Munich. We reached the Bayerische Hof, H\u00f4tel de Bavi\u00e8re, at 9 3/4.\n  This is one of the largest hotels in Europe, they say.\n\n  Wednesday, Aug. 14. Vigil of the Assumption.--I said mass in the\n  cathedral, which is near our hotel. It is a high, large building,\n  but very much disfigured. We all stayed at home till 12; then\n  Phillipps and I went to call on Dr. D\u00f6llinger, who was out. I had to\n  dine alone, as it is reckoned wrong for a priest to _manger gras_ on\n  a fasting day in public. After dinner, we all went to see the new\n  Church of St. Louis, decorated splendidly by the King. Then the\n  Church of St. Blaise in the faubourg, also decorated by him, both\n  built by the town. We thought them very beautiful, but decidedly\n  falling short of the right mark in point of style. In Ludwig Church\n  is a _chef d'oeuvre_ of Cornelius, \"The Last Judgment.\" It is not to\n  our taste, nor to the king's; for Cornelius went away to Berlin,\n  disgusted with the king's not admiring it. Among other defects,\n  there are no real altars, only portable stones to be let into\n  scagliola altars, which in Ludwig Kirche are all exactly one like\n  the other. At 7, I went to the Franciscan convent, to confess to\n  P\u00e8re Constantius. He introduced me to the Provincial and community\n  at supper. I spoke of England in lame Latin. At supper, in the\n  hotel, we were joined by Mr. Wake, son of the Rev. Mr. Wake, of\n  Courtene Hall, who recognised me, after about seventeen years. He\n  alarmed us with his idea that a war will break out between France\n  and England about Pritchard. What a war would this be!\n\n  Thursday, Aug. 15. Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary.--I had\n  some difficulty in getting leave to hear the Phillippses'\n  confessions, but I succeeded, and said mass at nine, during the high\n  mass, with drums and all sort of music. We went again to mass at 11;\n  then Phillipps and I went and found D\u00f6llinger, who came back and\n  dined with us at the _table d'h\u00f4te_. Then we walked with him to see\n  Mr. and Mrs. Phillipps. He is a Professor of law, son of an\n  Englishman {303} in Prussia. Then we went to see old Mr. Gorres, one\n  of the first minds in Germany. At 8, we went to tea with Mr. and\n  Mrs. Rio, the sister to Jones of Llanarth. We found there Mr.\n  Dugdale, a northern English priest, and others. The conversation was\n  very agreeable. Mrs. Rio is very infirm with sciatica, or settled\n  pains like it.\n\n  Friday, Aug. 16.--Mass at the cathedral at 11. We went with Mr.\n  Dugdale to the Pinacotheke, a grand building of this king,\n  containing the vast collection of pictures which I saw with Lefevre\n  at Schlussheim in 1820. What struck me most was the gallery on one\n  side of the building, ornamented like Raphael's, in the Vatican. We\n  dined at two; then went to see the new palace, which is opened at\n  times regularly to all visitors. We went among a party of all sorts.\n  I was recognised by Lady Lowther--that was, at least. This was from\n  Lowther Castle, 1816. In the palace, the floors are beautiful\n  wood-work, inlaid. Some rooms have fine pictures of the former\n  German history, of Charlemagne, Barbarossa, Rodolph of Hapsburg, &c.\n  The hall of audience is surrounded with striking colossal statues of\n  ancient dukes of Bavaria. We cannot say much for the two rooms of\n  Bavarian beauties; the king's fondness for them is not edifying,\n  they say. From the palace we went to the studios; at half-past 7\n  went to tea at Dr. D\u00f6llinger's, and met almost all whom we visited\n  yesterday, and, besides, Mr. Windischmann, canon of the cathedral. I\n  got a long conversation with him in English. He became very zealous\n  for promoting the prayers for England. There was there Mr. Raby, of\n  Leicester, who was at Munich with his mother; his sister is become a\n  nun at Nymphenburg.\n\n  Saturday, Aug. 17.--Said mass at the cathedral at 8\u00bd. After\n  breakfast, I visited Mr. and Mrs. Farrell and their family, who are\n  in this hotel. He is uncle to John Farrell. She said she had seen me\n  at Leamington with Mr. Martyn. Then Count de Senufft Pilsach,\n  Austrian ambassador, to whom Mr. Phillipps brought a note from\n  Father Lythgoe, called. We then walked to the palace, and saw the\n  rich chapel, in which many relics are kept in cases of gold and\n  silver, with pearls and jewels, some carved by Benvenuto Cellini;\n  the right hand {304} of St. John Baptist and St. Chrysostom among\n  them, and some earth stained with the blood of Our Lord. A little\n  triptic used on the scaffold by Mary Queen of Scots. We then went to\n  the palace of the Duc de Leuchtenberg, son of Eugene Beauharnais.\n  One room full of modern paintings, and another much larger, with a\n  very choice collection of the Italian and Flemish schools, struck\n  me. Dr. D\u00f6llinger dined with us, and then took us to the Public\n  Library, a magnificent building, calculated for 1,000,000 volumes,\n  and containing now 500,000, lately built by Ludwig I. We stayed a\n  long time looking about it, and then went on to the University,\n  another new building, very splendid. Dr. D\u00f6llinger is rector this\n  next year. The library here is of 200,000 vols.; he is the chief\n  librarian of it. We returned at 8, looking in, _en passant_, to the\n  Ludwig Kirche. A beautiful sunset.\n\n  Sunday, August 18.--I went by invitation to say mass at the Auer\n  Kirche, _i.e._, the new Gothic church in the suburb Au. Trusting to\n  the fine sunset of last night, I took no umbrella, and very nearly\n  got a wetting before I got home. At 9, Mr. Schlager called on me. He\n  is studying the law, and looks so smart that I did not of myself\n  recognize him. We went to high mass at the Theatine church. At 12, I\n  went with Mr. Windischmann, to be presented to the Nuncio, Mgr.\n  Vichi, to plead for England. I could not do much, as other visitors\n  came in. After dinner, we went to seek vespers unsuccessfully at the\n  Theatine church. At 5, we took a carriage, and went to the Sisters\n  of Charity, where we got on badly for want of German, and saw\n  nothing but the church, where service was going on. We then went to\n  the public cemetery, near it. It is in the style of P\u00e8re la Chaise,\n  but inferior. What is remarkable is the place where the bodies newly\n  dead are exposed for three days before burial. We saw several behind\n  glass windows, dressed out and adorned with flowers. After coming\n  home, I went at 7\u00bd to Professor G\u00f6rres's. He has open house for the\n  circle of his friends every Sunday evening. Dr. D\u00f6llinger wished us\n  all to go, but Phillipps thought it hardly proper without an\n  invitation. There were twelve at supper; among them Dr. {305}\n  D\u00f6llinger, Phillipps, Moy. The party was very agreeable, though I\n  knew nothing of the German conversation, except what Dr. D\u00f6llinger\n  translated to me. I came home at half-past 10.\n\n  Monday, August 19.--Said mass at the cathedral. Mrs. Dugdale came\n  after breakfast, and went with us to the Glyptotheke, where are some\n  fine pieces of ancient sculpture. I suppose the AEgina marbles are\n  among the most valued. They are of an earlier style than the perfect\n  models of Greek sculpture, finely designed but stiff. The whole\n  thing is too heathenish and so immodest. It is a mystery to me how\n  all these sights are consistent with Catholic principle, especially\n  the Venuses and Adonises by Christian masters, like Canova. The\n  building is very noble. We went thence to what was far more\n  satisfactory, the Basilica, built on the plan of the old church of\n  St. Paul, at Rome, 300 feet long, with two ranges of glorious holy\n  pictures, one range being the whole history of our English St.\n  Boniface. I hope this is there as a memorial of what Germany owes to\n  England, and as an excitement to pray for us. I came back to receive\n  Mr. Schlager to dine with me at the _table d'h\u00f4te_. Phillipps dined\n  at Mr. Rio's, where I joined them at 3, having first gone with Mr.\n  Schlager to his lodgings. Rio talked splendidly about England, and\n  Dr. D\u00f6llinger promised to write articles to call to prayer for it. I\n  came home at 5, said office in the cathedral, and at 7\u00bd we went to\n  supper with Dr. and Mrs. Phillipps, where we met all the circle, the\n  G\u00f6rreses, Windischman, D\u00f6llinger, Rios, Mrs. Raby, Mrs. Dugdale, &c.\n\n  Tuesday, August 20. St. Bernard.--Mass at the cathedral at 10. I\n  took a carriage and went with Mrs. Dugdale and Mrs. Raby to\n  Nymphenburg, where is the principal convent of the English nuns, of\n  which I saw a house at Augsburg. There are ten houses in Bavaria;\n  Mrs. Raby's daughter is a novice there. We stopped a good while, and\n  I hope a good step was taken in my work. Mr. Dugdale promises to\n  follow up ardently the begging prayers. I came home before 2, and\n  stayed at home till 5, when we went with the two boys to a grand\n  dinner with le Comte de Zeuft, {306} the Austrian ambassador. There\n  were twenty at table: the Nuncio, Mr. Aebel, minister of the\n  interior, the chief Catholic physician, a Polish Countess Kitzka,\n  and all our friends the Professors were there. I sat between Dr.\n  Phillipps and Windischman. We stayed till near 10. The Comte de\n  Zeuft promised great help for England. It is my first opening in\n  Austria. Mrs. Aebel assured me that the Government would be well\n  pleased with whatever was done in this way, which is a great point\n  secured. I also had an interesting talk on the subject with the\n  Countess Kitzka, who proposed prayer for Poland also on Saturdays.\n  This was, in short, a productive evening.\n\n  Wednesday, August 21.--Mass at the cathedral. I walked with Mr.\n  Dugdale to the convent of Sisters of Providence joining the great\n  hospital we failed in entering on Sunday. We got one nun who spoke a\n  little French to show us over the hospital, but we made little of\n  gaining prayers. I found palpitations coming from the walk, and so I\n  came home and stayed till I went with Phillipps to dine at 4 with\n  the Nuncio. The chief guests were Comte de Zeuft and Baron Frujberg,\n  _conseilleur d'\u00e9tat_, and twelve or fourteen more. The Nuncio took\n  charge of the little prayer for England adopted by the Belgian\n  bishops, and promised to get ample indulgences at Rome for the\n  masses, communions, and prayers for England. We came home and took\n  Mrs. Phillipps to tea at Dr. D\u00f6llinger's, Baron Frujberg, Rio,\n  H\u00fcffler, the historian of the German popes of the 11th century.\n\n  Thursday, August 22.--Mass at 8. I stayed at home writing to Dr.\n  Wiseman from 11 to 12; then went with Dr. D\u00f6llinger to be presented\n  to Madame di Frujberg, and her sister Amelia de Mongeras. Talked\n  about England and prayers. At home I found Comte de Zeuft and the\n  Nuncio paying a visit. Then dinner at 2\u00bd. Mr. Windischman took me to\n  see the Archbishop, 84 years old. He has his intellect quite sound,\n  and was favourable to the prayers, but not very zealous. I came home\n  and stayed till 7, writing to Mrs. Beaumont and Mrs. Canning, saying\n  office, &c. At 7 Mr. and Mrs. Rio and two children, Dr. Phillipps,\n  {307} D\u00f6llinger, and Windischman came to tea and supper, so a\n  parting visit. Little Miss Rio got sick with the smoke in the salon.\n\n  Friday, August 23.--Mass at 7\u00bd in the cathedral for the last time.\n  After breakfast a visit from Mr. Dugdale and old G\u00f6rres, and a talk\n  with Mr. Woodwich, a very nice young Anglican, whom Phillipps met at\n  Cologne, and came yesterday to Munich. The horses came for our\n  departure at 11, but we did not start till \u00bc to 1. I sat in the\n  carriage saying office. We had a pretty journey, approaching a line\n  of fine mountains. We reached a town called Tegern See, and we put\n  up at Le Troitteur Hof. When we came to dine, we found ourselves\n  worse off than we have yet been. No bread without aniseed, and\n  hardly enough to eat for all but me, who took meat. However, this is\n  an interesting spot. Out of my window I have a sweet view of the\n  lake and mountains opposite, with a bright moon upon them.\n\n  Saturday, August 24.--I went before 7 to find the old priest to say\n  mass. The church is a handsome one attached to a large building\n  which once was a Benedictine convent, but was turned by the old\n  king, my former acquaintance, into a country palace. Prince Charles\n  lives here now. The old priest was one of the monks. There are four\n  now alive out of forty-three. We started at 9, and went through\n  beautiful mountain scenery, especially that part of the road which\n  lies along the bank of Achensee, a beautiful blue lake. We dined at\n  about 2, at Achenthal, just before coming to the lake. We were\n  delayed by a spring breaking, and only reached Schwartz, a town of\n  4,500 people. The inn La Po\u00e8te is kept by Anthony Reiner, one of a\n  family of three men and a sister, who about 1830 were 2\u00bd years in\n  England, singing Tyrolese songs, and made \u00a34,000. Mrs. Ambrose heard\n  them at Sir Thomas Acland's. We had tea in the billiard-room, and\n  saw some beautiful play.\n\n  Sunday, Aug. 25.--I said mass at 6\u00bd, at the Franciscan church. In\n  the convent are twenty-one priests and twenty-five students, besides\n  lay brothers. I recommended England and was kindly heard. After\n  breakfast we went together to the parish church; at 8 a sermon\n  begins--we heard the end of it, preached by a Franciscan. Mass\n  follows the {308} sermon. The style of music, both here and in the\n  Franciscan church, where I heard part of the high mass, is high\n  figured. We set off for Innspruck after. It was raining all the way.\n  We arrived at 2 at the Golden Sun (die goldene Sonne), in a fine\n  wide street. We had dinner, during which we were surprised and\n  pleased by a visit from Mrs. Amherst and Mary. She has a house in\n  this street, and saw us pass by. Three daughters are with her. Soon\n  after we went to see the Franciscan church, in which is the famous\n  monument of Maximilian, and round it bronze figures of illustrious\n  personages, and on the side a marble monument of Hoffa. They are not\n  all saints, and it is thought to be an unbecoming ornament to a\n  church. They certainly cause distractions by the number of people\n  who come to see the sculpture, which makes this small church almost\n  like a Glyptotheke. After this, Mrs. Amherst took me to the\n  Redemptorists, where Father Prost talks English, and received me\n  most cordially, and presented me to the Rector. I then went to the\n  Franciscan convent, where, as at Munich, I saw the fathers at\n  supper, and recommended England to the Provincial, who promised to\n  convey my wishes to the 300 subjects of the 10 houses of his\n  province. In this little house there are eight priests. He sent a\n  man to take me to the Decanus, living near the parish church, to ask\n  for leave to hear confessions to-morrow. He was a most amiable, kind\n  old man, and promised to speak for me to all the clergy. I went to\n  meet our party at tea with the Amhersts at 7, and had a very\n  pleasant evening. Home at 9\u00bc.\n\n  Monday, Aug. 26th.--Father Prost gave himself to me all to-day. I\n  went to say mass at the Redemptorist church; breakfasted there; then\n  went out with him to the hospital of the Sisters of Charity, where\n  there are 15 nuns, and it is the mother house of about eight houses\n  in all. They are under the direction of the Redemptorists. Then to\n  the Jesuits' college, where we saw the Rector; then to dine with the\n  Redemptorists at 12. They are about ten in number. The Rector is\n  most zealous for my cause. At 2 we walked out of the town to a fine\n  Premonstratensian {309} abbey to which belong 42 monks; but about\n  half are employed as coadjutors to parish priests. The Abbot\n  received us very kindly, and showed us all over his house, which has\n  a great suite of fine rooms, full of pictures of great personages.\n  We came back to settle for my departure to-morrow; and lastly\n  visited the Servites. They have a fine large house in the great\n  street. Their number is only fifteen. Lastly, we called on a lady\n  who can talk English, having learned it, where Father Prost did, in\n  America. I went at 6\u00bd to tea with the Amhersts, among whom I also\n  found William just come. I went home to stay at the Redemptorists,\n  in order to be able to say mass to-morrow. The Rector and Father\n  Prost sat some time with me.\n\n  Tuesday, Aug. 27th.--Said mass at 3\u00bd; at 4\u00bd, Father Prost saw me in\n  the still-wagen, or omnibus, for Brixen. I forgot to say that\n  Phillipps agreed with me to meet at Caldaron on Thursday. They went\n  off yesterday by Landeck, Marenn, &c., for finer scenery. I took my\n  way to see the Bishop of Brixen. My principal companions were four\n  students at the Inspruck University, going out for their vacations.\n  They were two couples of brothers, one called Ehrhart, the other\n  Benz, all of Inspruck. The weather was become beautiful, and we went\n  through splendid scenery. We went over the Brenner mountain, and\n  were going till 8 o'clock at night. We stopped three times for\n  refreshment: at Matraey, Strarzing, and Mittewald. We came to the\n  Kreutz Hof--the Cross Inn--at Brixen, where I took my bed. First, I\n  went to see a pleasing old priest, by name Graffanara, who is\n  Domscholasticus here, and whom I saw by chance at Inspruck. He told\n  of the Bishop being gone to Botzen, and introduced me to the Decanus\n  and Parish Priest, to settle for mass to-morrow.\n\n  Wednesday, Aug. 28th. Great St. Augustine's.--I was up soon after 3,\n  and went to the Pffarr-Kirche, where I said mass at 4. The Pffarr\n  treated me with extraordinary respect and kindness, and came back\n  with me to my inn, where I started again, with the same company, to\n  Botzen, in another still-wagen, at 5. We followed the downward\n  course of a beautiful torrent, through rocks and mountains {310} all\n  the way, till we reached Botzen, at 12. I went to the Kaiser's\n  Krone, and dined at the _table d'h\u00f4te_ at 12\u00bd, next to an English\n  gentleman, by name Harley, who was chiefly taken up with attacks on\n  cookery out of England. He was a man of much information, and gave\n  gloomy accounts of the prospect of war with France. His father was\n  an admiral. I stayed at home till 4\u00bd, then went out to the Capuchins\n  and then to the Capellani--the Paroco being out. The chief Capellano\n  came back with me to the hotel, and waited till the Bishop of Brixen\n  came in. He had been out in the country. I was admitted to see him,\n  but quite disappointed in my hopes of finding help from him. He gave\n  me no signs of zeal, and hardly spoke of England. Perhaps it may be\n  for the better some way. No doubt disappointments are good for me,\n  and so thank God for this one. I afterwards went to the Franciscans,\n  where I found real sympathy in one of the fathers, with whom I\n  walked in the garden. This was a refreshment after the Bishop. In\n  the evening I had a visit from the young Baron Giovanelli, whose\n  father has some authority about sending people to see Maria M\u00f6rl. He\n  could hardly speak Italian, and though very civil, did not help me\n  much.\n\n  Thursday, 29th.--The good Bishop sent me to-day a present of a large\n  number of religious prints, with German instructions, and showed\n  thus his good will to me; and I hope it may be well for my cause. At\n  7\u00bd I said mass in the cathedral. At 10 I went in a one-horse\n  carriage to Calddaron, or more rightly Caltern. I went directly to\n  see Father Capistrano, confessor to Maria M\u00f6rl, at a Franciscan\n  convent, and then dined at the White Horse inn. At 4\u00bd, according to\n  his direction, I went to the convent of the Tertiariae, where Maria\n  M\u00f6rl has been for ten years, being removed from her father's house\n  by the Bishop, at her own request, to avoid being seen by so many\n  people. I waited in the convent church till Father Capistrano, who\n  is a tall and venerable monk, I suppose of forty-five years old,\n  came to call me, with eight or nine other persons, to see the\n  _estatica_. (N.B. Father Capistrano told me that the Bishop of\n  Brixen is very deaf, and probably understood nothing of {311} what I\n  talked about, which explains all my disappointment.) We went into a\n  small room within her convent, rather darkened, where the first\n  sight of Maria on her knees upon her bed was most striking. She\n  kneels with her head and eyes fixed upwards, her hands joined before\n  her breast, just below the chin, and her body leaning forwards in a\n  position out of the centre of gravity, in which, ordinarily, no one\n  could continue without support. It is most moving to see her thus--I\n  think more so than in any of the other positions which she assumed.\n  This was the time when on every Thursday she goes through the\n  contemplation of the Agony of Our Lord; and so, soon after we came\n  in, she being quite unconscious of what goes on around her, began to\n  make signs in her throat of earnest emotion, and then, clenching her\n  hands together, she dropped her head over them, her long, flowing\n  hair being thrown forward over her face, as it were accompanying our\n  Lord in the commencement of His prayer in the garden; after about\n  five minutes thus, she suddenly bends down, placing her face between\n  her knees, as when our Lord was prostrate in His agony. After\n  another five minutes, she rises, her face again fixed with\n  expression of intense earnestness on heaven, and her arms extended\n  back downwards, as expressing perfect resignation. After five or ten\n  minutes thus, she returns calmly to her original attitude of prayer,\n  and thus remained till Father Capistrano spoke to her by name,\n  saying a few words almost indistinctly, and she instantly returned\n  to herself, reclined back on her bed, and, without exertion of\n  moving her limbs, appeared simply recumbent, with the bed-cover over\n  her whole body. I did not see her rise again, but this is done\n  instantly without effort, in the same way. The moment that she was\n  thus awakened from the ecstasy, she looked round on us all with\n  great good-humour, and smiled; and, being forbidden to speak, she\n  made many signs, asking questions of some whom she knew before. One\n  priest, il Conte Passi, offered her some cotton perfumed from the\n  body of Sta. Maria Maddalena di Pazzi; but she would not have it,\n  nor smell it, refusing it in a truly pleasant way. I spoke of\n  praying for England, and she nodded graciously, but did not take\n  much {312} apparent notice. I suppose she does it about nothing but\n  what comes by obedience. If the conversation had a pause, she\n  immediately became again absorbed in God till Father Capistrano\n  recalled her again. After a proper time, he gave us signs to retire;\n  on which she earnestly made signs for a cartoon-box full of holy\n  prints to be brought, and she began with great earnestness to turn\n  them over, seeming to recollect herself very intently. She then gave\n  me two, and afterwards another. I was struck when I saw the first\n  was a figure of St. George, as she had not heard my name I knew.\n  Afterwards, I supposed she might allude only to England, as she knew\n  I was English. Soon after, she fell back into ecstasy as she lay,\n  and we went away. I walked down to the inn with Conte Passi and a\n  priest of the place, who visits her nearly every day. I began a\n  letter, when, about 6, I was agreeably surprised by seeing Phillipps\n  and his party drive up. He and I went to the Franciscan convent, but\n  could not see Father Capistrano. Conte Passi and I slept in the same\n  room, and into a third bed tumbled some one else, I thought, like\n  the ostler, after we were in bed. I slept none the worse, and why\n  should I?\n\n  Friday, Aug. 30.--Said mass in the parish church at eight. Phillipps\n  after breakfast went and had a long conversation with Father\n  Capistrano, who received to-day a letter from the Bishop of Trent,\n  to give leave for all of us to see the _estatica_. Phillipps came\n  back with wonderful accounts of Father Capistrano's views of the\n  future in the Church. He has no bright anticipations. I wrote all\n  the morning, letters to Dr. D\u00f6llinger, Signor Giovanelli, and Mr.\n  LeSage Ten Broek. We dined at 1. At 2\u00bd we all went to the convent\n  church, where, as yesterday, P. Capistrano came to take us to la\n  M\u00f6rl. Three o'clock, being the time of Our Lord's death, this is the\n  subject of her contemplation at that time every Friday. Soon after\n  we came in, from the attitude of prayer in which we found her as\n  yesterday; she again clasped her hands, and, looking up with an\n  expression of suffering, she continued for some time to make a sort\n  of sobbing noise, and stertation, as I have seen people dying of\n  apoplexy; this grew more painful till, exactly at {313} three, she\n  dropped her head forward, and her hands yet clasped hung down before\n  her and so she remained quite motionless, still leaning forward\n  beyond the perpendicular, \"_inclinato capite emisit spiritum_.\" This\n  continued till, at one of those almost inaudible suggestions of the\n  confessor, she fell back on the bed, as yesterday, but still in\n  ecstasy, and extended her hands in the form of a crucifix. The\n  fingers were guttered over the palm of the hands, but yet we saw\n  plainly in the palm the sacred stigma. I saw it yesterday outside\n  both her hands, quite plainly, as she was distributing the prints.\n  The marks are not as of an open wound, but red cicatrices like those\n  represented in pictures of Our Saviour when risen from the dead.\n  Father Capistrano said that she eats a little bread and fruit\n  occasionally, not every day; she communicates three or four times a\n  week; she sleeps generally in the night, I understood, but her\n  spirit still continues in a less degree of contemplation. She had a\n  younger sister with her in the convent, to wait on her. The Emperor\n  allows her 400 florins a year. On more solemn feasts, the ecstasy is\n  more intense, and she then appears for a time raised above the bed,\n  touching it only with the tips of her feet. The priest whom I saw\n  yesterday says that he has himself passed his hand at those times\n  under her knees without touching them. It is a rule that no money is\n  given by visitors either to her or the convent. We went away, and\n  prepared for our departure about 4. I engaged a small one-horse\n  carriage to go to _Egna_ in Italian, in German _Neumarkt_, intending\n  to see the _Addolorata_, and to meet the Phillippses again at\n  Venice. I began to have a distaste to the rude-looking driver, at\n  the first sight, still more, when I found that the carriage belonged\n  to a priest who had come from Egna this morning. I made it straight\n  for time by taking him with me. A second nuisance was, finding, when\n  I set off, that Phillipps had to go to the same place, as his first\n  stage towards Trent. In a narrow road down the hill, out of Caldaro,\n  we met an immense number of carts, loaded with hay, and drawn by\n  oxen, from eighty to a hundred, which was a good delay, and\n  Phillipps's carriage got terribly scratched in passing one. At {314}\n  Egna, I put up at the Krono. I went out to see a priest, who took me\n  to the Franciscans about saying mass tomorrow. I preached England.\n\n  Saturday, Aug. 31.--I fell into the hands of the sulky driver of\n  yesterday, who undertook to find me a mule to go over the mountains\n  at once to Capriana, but he came last night to say none was to be\n  found; I heard before that there was danger of this in harvest time.\n  I therefore first said mass at the Franciscans', at 3 o'clock,\n  doubtful whether it was not uncanonically early, and at 4 went with\n  my friend driving me, with one horse on the left of the pole, to\n  Cavallesi, a small town in the mountains, which we reached at 8\n  o'clock. There I saw the physician of Dominica Lazzari, whom Count\n  Passi told me to go to. He was very civil, and recommended me a\n  pleasant guide, who at 9 set off, walking by the pony which I rode\n  to Cavallesi. The day was beautiful, and not too hot for me, though\n  it was for him on foot. It was a most interesting, picturesque ride\n  of 2\u00bc hours, reminding me of my Sicilian and other rides long since,\n  and I was surprised how this seemed to agree with me now. Capriana\n  is a little very poor village, occupying a spot on an open space,\n  high among the mountains. The very first cottage in the body of the\n  town, and one of the poorest, is where this wonderful being spends\n  her suffering days. The Medico Yoris had written me a note to the\n  primissario, or second priest to the curate, who is Dominica's\n  confessor, who might have helped me about seeing her; but he was not\n  at home, so we went to the house at once. The door of the little\n  place, a part of a building, where Dominica lives with her sister,\n  was locked. The sister was out. I heard her groaning slightly at\n  every breath. She made something of an answer when my guide knocked.\n  He went to seek her sister, and came back saying that she begged us\n  to delay a little, as others had been with her, and she was much\n  fatigued. So we went to the Osteria, and got the best they could\n  give, which was a _brodo d'acqua_, in English, I fancy, tea-kettle\n  broth. This shows that the place is not chosen for its riches to be\n  honoured by God with His wonders. After this pause we returned to\n  the little house, {315} which has a Tyrolese roof overhanging, and a\n  little gallery outside her door. The sister, who is married and has\n  her children about her, took us in, and in an inner room we saw the\n  Addolorata in her bed. Her appearance naturally will not have been\n  interesting, like that of Maria M\u00f6rl, but rather of an ordinary\n  young countrywoman, of low stature, like her sister. She has\n  ordinarily the appearance of great pain and suffering; but when I\n  spoke to her about England, she lifted her eyes and moved her hands\n  in a way more earnest than _l'estatica_, and showed great feeling at\n  the thought of its conversion. Now for her appearance: her face was\n  almost all covered with clotted blood, which flowed, I suppose,\n  yesterday morning, for so it does every Friday, from the punctures\n  as of thorns on her brow. These were not, as I expected, irregularly\n  placed as by a crown of thorns made at hazard, but they formed a\n  line close together on the forehead, and do not go round the head to\n  the back part. Her legs were gathered up as if the sinews were\n  contracted; her body, the doctor told me, is all covered with sores,\n  which, the more that is done to cure, the worse they grow. She keeps\n  her hands clenched before her heart, and groans slightly with every\n  breath. On her hands were seen stigmata, much more marked than Maria\n  M\u00f6rl, like fresh wounds by a nail passing through and sinking into\n  the flesh. Her sister said the same was the case with her side and\n  feet. I only spoke to her a little about England, and was delighted\n  at her manner then, which shows how superior she is to her pains. It\n  seems to distress her to be too near her, and as I have learned\n  since it does. She is always hot; her sister was fanning her all the\n  time, and in the depth of winter it is the same thing, when snow\n  drives into her room. She also gives her prints; she made her sister\n  show her prints out of a little case, and when she has chosen them\n  she kisses them and gives them to each with great kindness. There\n  were a young man and woman there, who offered money for them to her\n  sister, but she will take nothing. The sight of her is not at first\n  so striking and pleasing as of la M\u00f6rl, but the remembrance is more\n  impressive. It seems a state more meritorious, more humble. It is\n  more poor, and patient. {316} Having been delayed so long, I could\n  not get to Cavallesi till 3; the sulky face of the driver betokened\n  no good for my return; the horse, too, he said was ill, and in fine,\n  he brought me to Egna just too late for the still-wagen to Lavorno,\n  and I was not so patient as I ought to have been after seeing that\n  example, but I was helped by it a little. I had to take a carriage\n  for myself and the same miserable driver, who was going to sleep all\n  the way, and grunted at me once when I awoke him. I got to a nice\n  inn at Lavorno, the white house again.\n\n  Sunday, Sept. 1.--I started at 5 by a still-wagen for Trent, all\n  alone in it. I came to the Rose Inn, and waited to say mass at the\n  Church di S. Maria Maggiora, where the Council of Trent was held,\n  and prayed, as usual on Sundays, for the gift of Faith, which was\n  appropriate here. The church is quite uninteresting in appearance. I\n  breakfasted at a cafe, and went about my way of travelling; then at\n  \u00bc to 11 went and heard the end of a high mass. I thought to be in\n  time for all. After it I was very happy in getting myself introduced\n  to the Bishop, who was extremely agreeable, and said he prayed daily\n  for England, and promised to recommend it to Maria la M\u00f6rl, and to\n  all the clergy. I left, as if I need take no more trouble about\n  Trent. I went to the Rosa, and stayed there quiet till dinner at\n  12\u00bd, and then till 4, writing my long days of late in the Journal.\n  At 4, I got into a carriage carrying four inside to Roveredo, where\n  I got to the Corona, and went to bed at 8\u00bd or 9.\n\n  Monday, Sept. 2.--I set off soon after 3\u00bd with an old _vetturino_,\n  who rather displeased me last night in making his bargain, by his\n  flattering way; but I found him a nice old man, and very civil. We\n  got to Bosketto, on the banks of the Adige (which indeed we followed\n  all day), at 7\u00bc. I said mass and breakfasted. Then we went on to\n  dine at a single house, called Ospitaletto. We stayed from 12 to 2;\n  I wrote two letters. We then started and got to Verona at 4, to the\n  Hotel di Londra. I took a _laquais de place_, and walked to Count\n  Persico's house. I was sorry to find him in the country. Then to the\n  Jesuit Noviciate, where I {317} thought I might possibly find\n  Connolly. The Superior showed me Padre Odescalchi's room, where he\n  passed his noviciate. I recommended myself to his prayers. I had\n  been reading on the road his memoirs, given me at Louvain. The\n  Superior promised to recommend England. I went then to the\n  cathedral, and the Bishop being out, I saw the Vicario, who kindly\n  promised to speak for me to the Bishop. I then went into the\n  cathedral, where there was a brilliant illumination, and a most\n  solemn benediction, and then a litany before the altar of the\n  Blessed Virgin, which reminded me of the holy litanies of Rome. I\n  have seen nothing like this on the Continent, nor have I seen a town\n  so full of respectable clergy in every part. Came home and to bed at\n  8\u00bd.\n\n  Tuesday, Sept. 3rd.--Started at 4 with my new _vetturino_, who\n  cheated me as usual, but was civil. It rained almost all day. I said\n  mass at a place called Montebello, and got to Vicenza to dine at\n  11\u00bd. Then started for Padua with a new _vetturino_, and had for\n  company an old and a young Roman priest. The old one was Bighi, a\n  well-known professor, who taught Dr. Wiseman and S. Sharples, &c.,\n  and was full of kindness to me. I talked myself almost hoarse with\n  him. They stopped at Padua. I went on railroad to Venice. I sat by a\n  priest of Illyricum of the _scuole pie_ of St. Joseph Calasanctius;\n  but what was wonderful was my being in the midst of Mrs. Neville and\n  her family, whom Mrs. Rio desired me to see, coming back from a\n  visit to Vicenza. We kept together all across the Sayburne, and made\n  a great acquaintance. I got into a gondola, and had to go a great\n  round to put down another young man, who had already engaged it. I\n  had a great battle about my fare, and for a wonder I conquered. I\n  waited a little, having my chocolate, when Phillipps and all came\n  in, and we made a happy meeting, giving an account of our respective\n  travels.\n\n  Wednesday, Sept. 4th.--I went at 7 to say mass at San Marco, but was\n  obliged to wait till 8, as they are very strict here not to allow a\n  priest to mass without leave from the Patriarch, except the first\n  day, when, as to me, leave {318} is given. I breakfasted at a cafe,\n  then went with Phillipps to St. Georgio dei Greci, and heard a high\n  mass of the schismatic Greeks, of whom there is a colony at Venice;\n  the occasion was the octave of the Assumption, old style. The mass\n  was all celebrated behind a close screen; which is open part of the\n  time, but not during the most solemn part. After the consecration,\n  the host and chalice are carried outside this screen in procession,\n  and presented for adoration; one man before us was making his\n  prostrations all the time. The priests had chasubles, hanging evenly\n  all round to near the ankles; they lifted them to use their hands;\n  there is no musical instrument, but singing all the time. I then\n  went to the Cancellaria to get my licence to say mass, and then to\n  Mrs. Neville at the Corte dell' Albero. She soon after took me to\n  the Armenian College, where the examinations were just finished.\n  There are eighteen scholars, with two priests over them, in an old\n  grand palace of a ruined family of Pesaro. The _vicario_ and several\n  others from the island were there. We talked much about England. I\n  came to dinner at the Tavola, returned at 4, Then we went to the\n  Island of St. Lazzaro, to see Padre Pasquale and the Archbishop\n  Sutrio Somal (as the name sounds), great friends of Phillipps at\n  Rome in 1831, and of mine, too. When we came back. I went in a\n  gondola to Mrs. Neville, and back to tea.\n\n  Tuesday, Sept. 5.--This being the feast of St. Lorenzo Giustiniani,\n  I went out at 6\u00be to find the church where his body is laid. He died\n  in the very hotel where we are. The church I went to in a gondola in\n  rain to St. Pietro at Castello--the ancient patriarchal church--and\n  said mass at the high altar, where he lies. I walked back in rain,\n  without umbrella, as I lost mine yesterday. I bought another. At 12,\n  Padre Raffaelle, an Armenian priest, Mrs. Neville's confessor, to\n  whom she introduced me yesterday, called and took me to the\n  patriarch, Cardinal Monico, who received most graciously my\n  propositions for England. I am to call again with the Phillippses on\n  Saturday, and get something more exactly settled about the prayers;\n  we then went across the Great Canal to the Del Redentore, where\n  {319} is a convent of eighty Capuchins. The church is reckoned a\n  _chef d'oeuvre_ of Palladio, built _ex voto_ by the Republic, after\n  a plague. We saw the guardian, who is also provincial; he learned\n  our want, and promised for his own house and ten others of the\n  province. I came back to dinner. A Greek priest whom Phillipps got\n  acquainted with the other day, came to dine with us, and sat till 9.\n  His conversation was very interesting as showing the ideas of the\n  Greeks about the Roman Church, and their doctrines on many points\n  varying from ours. What a terrible evil is that of separation of\n  nearly half of Christendom! The greater reasons to hasten the\n  reunion of England, that we may draw the others.\n\n  Friday, Sept. 6.--The two Neville boys came with me to St. Marco,\n  and served my mass, as their mother had desired. After breakfast, I\n  called on Mrs. Neville, who was not up, then went to Palazzo Pasaro,\n  to Padre Raffaelle. He came with me first to the Franciscans; the\n  guardian promised for his house of fifty, and for three or four at\n  some distance from him. Then to the Dominicans, who are fifteen, a\n  new establishment a year old. Then to the Jesuits, who are eight in\n  number, only this summer returned to their old church, which is one\n  of the most remarkable for its ornaments in Venice, white marble\n  inlaid with black. I remembered it well from twenty-six years ago.\n  The superior, Padre Ferrario, is going to Rome to-morrow, and\n  promised to see about my matters there with Cardinal Acton and the\n  general of the Jesuits. I came home in haste, and found Phillipps,\n  and Mrs. Neville and her friends with her, gone to St. Marco, where\n  we followed them to see the treasury--_i.e._, the inestimably rich\n  treasures brought by Doge Dandolo from Constantinople, just before\n  it was taken by the Turks. The chief thing is an antependium and a\n  reredos of massive gold, with splendid pearls and enamels. Mrs.\n  Neville took us to the Convent of the Visitation, where is preserved\n  the heart of St. Francis of Sales, which was brought from France\n  when the Revolution drove off all religious. They could not show\n  this relic; but promised prayers, and to write to other houses.\n  There were there {320} forty nuns. Back to dinner at the _table\n  d'h\u00f4te_. After dinner we went all together to see the only large\n  Gothic church in Venice, called St. ---- di Frari, which is the\n  Venetian for Frati; it used to be the Franciscan church, and their\n  house is turned into a public Archivium. Phillipps said they\n  deserved it for having such a palace. The church is a fine one, and\n  has some good morsels; but what is most startling, or rather\n  glaring, is the immense marble monument to Canova--a pyramid, with a\n  heathen procession into it. His heart is here. His right hand in an\n  urn at the Arcadinia. We tried at St. Sitorstro (Silvestro) to\n  assist at the 40 _ore_, but all was over. We came back by a fine\n  star light, and went to St. Marco, where we had ices at Floriano's\n  _caf\u00e9_, and heard military music. Canonico Pio Bighi, and his young\n  companion Don Giovanni Moneti, joined us, _ad cor. sat._ We came\n  home at 9.\n\n  Sept. 7th.--Said mass at St. Marco, on the altar where the\n  miraculous picture of Our Lady is, by St. Luke. The Greek priest\n  told us there existed seventy-five of them. I went at 8\u00bd to the\n  Jesuits, to give a letter for Cardinal Acton, about indulgences for\n  prayers for England, to Padre Ferrarrio, the Superior, who sets off\n  to-day for Rome. I found Mrs. Neville and Father Raffaelle talking\n  to him. The latter kindly went around with me to-day again. We went\n  first to the Institute of St. Dorothea, founded lately by Conte\n  Passi and his brother, which we desired to see. The Superioress was\n  out, but another made excellent promises.--15 nuns. Then to St.\n  Lucia, to the Sisters of Charity, and another house dependent on\n  them. In the latter was an Armenian lady who spoke English, having\n  been six years at Hammersmith Convent. The Superioress of the chief\n  house spoke of Gentili with great respect; she knew him when she was\n  at the house at Verona. She promised me for thirteen houses under\n  her authority. Then we went past the Jesuits to a house of Reformed\n  Franciscans (Zoccolanti). St. Michele di Marano. Promised for three\n  houses as large as this, about twenty-six, and many more smaller.\n  This is where Gregory XVI. was educated, made his novitiate, and was\n  Superior. We saw the outside of his room; the key could {321} not be\n  got. We got back at 12\u00bd. I went with Phillipps to the Cardinal\n  Patriarch, as appointed before. I gave him the prayer for England\n  which I gave to Padre Ferrario, and he promised to speak with him\n  also. Thence to the Accademia, where for two hours we looked at the\n  pictures and statues. It did not greatly answer me. Thence left our\n  cards on the Duc de Levis, who, with his master the Due de Bordeaux,\n  is at the Albergo Reale. Then dined. Another _maigre_. After I did\n  not go out with them, as I had office to say. At 7\u00bd we had a party\n  to tea--the Greek priest, with Mrs. Neville and three children. They\n  stayed till past 11.\n\n  Monday, Sept. 8. Nativity of Blessed Virgin.--I said mass at S.\n  Marco. We went to the high Armenian mass at S. Lazzaro at 10. We\n  were a little late. After it we stayed there with our friends the\n  fathers till vespers and benediction, at 3. And after that, dinner\n  at 4. Mrs. Neville and family were there too. It was an interesting\n  day for seeing and conversing. I saw, in the visitors' book, my name\n  under Lefevre's, written by him July, 1820. We sat in the cloister,\n  with the old Archbishop, &c., till twilight. He made us presents of\n  many handsome books printed there. We came back to S. Marco, and sat\n  to hear the band, &c. On coming home, at 7\u00bd, we were in great demand\n  with cards and notes, left by the Duc de Levis, to invite us to the\n  Duc de Bordeaux's (Comte de Chombard) salon at 7. We were all thrown\n  back by Phillipps having no dresses to go in. So we had to keep easy\n  at home.\n\n  Sunday, Sept. 9.--Mass at the cathedral (S. Marco). P. Raffaele and\n  the Greek priest came to breakfast. At 10 I had a visit from the\n  Superioress of the Institute of Sta. Dorothea and a companion. At\n  10\u00bd we went to visit the Duc de Bordeaux, who gave us a quarter of\n  an hour's most affable conversation, spoke with great kindness of\n  his reception in England, and asked after Dr. Wiseman, &c. His\n  confessor, the Abb\u00e9 Tr\u00e9louquet, was introduced to us, and came in\n  our gondola to Mrs. Neville, of whom we took leave. Mr. Tr\u00e9louquet\n  promised to engage the French royal {322} family in prayers for\n  England. He said, the Duc de Bordeaux had spoken of my asking him at\n  Oscott. We went then to S. Tommaso, where I left the Phillippses and\n  went to the banker, Holme, who is Armenian consul. Then back to S.\n  Tommaso, where I found them looking at an extraordinary collection\n  of relics made by a priest, who devoted himself to the work when all\n  things were in confusion in the revolution. He gave the collection\n  to the church, on condition of their being open to the public for\n  veneration. The chief relic is some of the blood of Our Lord, in a\n  beautiful gold or gilt reliquary. I found there Monsignor Arfi, the\n  Pope's Caudatario, and invited for England. I then went to Padre\n  Raffaele, at the college, and went with him to see the two brothers,\n  priests Cavanis, founders of an excellent institute of _Scuole di\n  Carit\u00e0_. They are in a poor house, with a few companions; one of\n  them complained that no one helped them; but they are like their\n  patron S. Joseph Calasanctius, losing ground in old age, but with\n  hope of better things. P. Raffaele, who has indeed been an angel to\n  me in Venice, came with me to the inn where they were at dinner. At\n  4 we left Venice, with pleasant remembrances. We crossed the lagune\n  in a procession of boats, and got into the railway carriage, which\n  took us to Padua about 7. At the Stella d'Oro I went out to try to\n  find the Bishop; but he was not in town.\n\n  Tuesday, Sept, 10.--I went to St. Antony's church at 7\u00bd to say mass.\n  Before going I met Dr. Roskell, of Manchester, just come with a\n  Manchester party on a rapid tour. I could not have the altar of St.\n  Antony, which seems always occupied. I spoke to the Superior of the\n  house of Conventual Franciscans attached to the church, 50 in\n  number, who promised to recommend my cause. I came back in a little\n  carriage with Phillipps. We started at 9 for Verona, dined at\n  Vicenza; then I took a carriage and called on the Bishop, Monsignor\n  Capellari, a good old man, who received me graciously. We stopped in\n  going out of Vicenza to see Palladio's Olympic Theatre, built to act\n  the OEdipus Tyrannus in 1585. This pretends to nothing but paganism.\n  We reached Verona at 7. I went out to see {323} the Bishop, who was\n  quite gracious; he begins his retreat with his clergy to-morrow, and\n  promised to begin then and recommend England. I then called at Conte\n  Persico's, who is in town, but was just gone to the theatre. Home,\n  and to bed at 9\u00bd.\n\n  Wednesday, Sept. 11.--Up soon after 5, and at 7 said mass in St.\n  Anastasius, a large church close to the hotel. Soon after Conte\n  Persico came to return my visit, and sat a good while with me, then\n  with the Phillippses, to whom I introduced him. He is grown very\n  old, being now 67. He said he was married two years after I had seen\n  him before, and was now by accident in town with his wife. I thought\n  him very like his old father. At 10 we went in a carriage to see the\n  tombs of the Scaligeri, formerly tyrants of Verona, fine Gothic\n  structure; then the Amphitheatre, and the church of St. Zenone,\n  where I saw the image of the saint again which I before laughed at,\n  as a thing so to be treated, in 1820. I then called at Conte\n  Persico's, and saw his lady. At 12\u00bd we set off for Dezenzano, a\n  beautiful spot at the town end of the Lake di Garda. We arrived at\n  6, and had a pleasant evening in a little room of the Albergo\n  Imperiale, looking over the lake. I wrote to Mrs. Neville and Abb\u00e9\n  de Baudry.\n\n  Thursday, Sept. 12.--There was rain in the night, leaving us a fine\n  day without dust. I said mass at 6\u00bd in the parish church. We went to\n  dine at the Duc Torri, at Brescia. I went to see the Bishop, who\n  received me very courteously. There I met a Philippine lay-brother,\n  who introduced me to the church of his order, Sta. Maria della Pace,\n  then to five or six of the fathers sitting together. I had a fine\n  opportunity of recommending England. They are the only religious\n  house in Brescia (of men at least). After dinner at 3 we set off for\n  Bergamo, when we came to Albergo Reale at 9 o'clock. I got up to my\n  knees in a stream near the road at the wet stage, but hope no harm\n  from it.\n\n  Friday, Sept. 13.--Anniversary of my first coming abroad, 1819. I\n  got up soon after 5, said mass in a church opposite the inn,\n  breakfasted at a caf\u00e9, then walked up the beautiful road to the high\n  town called the _Citt\u00e0_, where our {324} inn was is the borga.\n  Between them there are about 36,000. In the _Citt\u00e0_ I met a priest,\n  by name Giuseppe Caffi, belonging to the collegiate church, who,\n  when I asked him for Count Papi, volunteered to be my guide\n  altogether. He showed me the cathedral, his own church, Sta. Maria,\n  and a little convent church, Church of the Benedictine Nuns,\n  beautifully gilt. He also went with me to the Bishop, who gave me\n  one of the best receptions. By the same good hap as at Verona, the\n  priests were in retreat. He introduced me to the Abbate Vittadini,\n  conductor of the retreat, who promised to speak of England to the\n  clergy. He was already full of zeal for it; he knew a good deal of\n  the state of things with us. When I wrote my name, he knew it well,\n  and it had a good effect. I went with Abb\u00e9 Caffi to the palace of\n  Count Papi; all were away. He came with us to the hotel, and soon we\n  started for Milan. We arrived at 3, and found rooms in the best\n  hotel (de la Ville). _Tables d'h\u00f4te_ at 5. I said office, and just\n  got time to look in the cathedral before dinner, and again after we\n  all went. It was beyond my recollections of old. I admired the\n  ceiling, which seemed all beautiful openwork; I did not remember\n  this. It seemed to be only painted so. How I remember Lord Kinnaird\n  taking my mother to it. We tried two other churches to find\n  Benediction in vain. Then I went with Phillipps to a bookseller's.\n\n  Saturday, Sept. 14.--Up at 5\u00bd. I went to say mass at the cathedral,\n  and finding that the Roman rite is not allowed in the church alone,\n  I was in the happy necessity of celebrating in the chapel of St.\n  Charles, in the crypt, which is almost reserved for strangers. I\n  waited over two masses. After breakfast we had a visit from Count\n  Mellerio, Rosinini's great friend. Phillipps and I went with him to\n  his palace, and saw Abbate Polidori, who lives there. Mrs. Ambrose\n  came with the carriage to pick us up, and I went to the Church of\n  St. Celso, and to the great hospital fitted up for 3,000 patients;\n  then to vespers at the Duomo, and at 3\u00bd to dine with Count Mellerio.\n  I sat near Polidori. Before we parted he and Signer Mercati seemed\n  gained for England. At 6\u00bd we went to a Benediction at the Duomo,\n  only of relics {325} of the Passion, and not very solemn. This was\n  by occasion of the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross to-day. I\n  then went to the Archbishop's palace to find the Grand Vicar, to get\n  leave for confessions to-morrow, and without expecting it saw the\n  Cardinal himself instead. As Count Mellerio was to prepare my way\n  to-morrow, I did not speak of England. When I got home I found\n  Mellerio at the inn, bringing a permission from the Grand Vicar. To\n  bed after 10. I have got unwell to-day in the inside,--between\n  yesterday's _maigre_ and the fruit, I suppose.\n\n  Sunday, Sept. 15.--We went together this morning to the old basilica\n  of St. Ambrose, where I said mass at the saint's tomb, in the crypt.\n  The Phillippses received communion. Then we saw the splendid\n  covering of the altar above, in the church. It is exposed only on\n  three days at mass--St. Ambrose, SS. Gervase and Protase, and Corpus\n  Christi. SS. Gervase and Protase's relics are there, with St.\n  Ambrose's. This altar cost to a bishop who gave it, 80,000 sequins\n  of gold, about the year 1000. I spoke to the Directeur du S\u00e9minaire\n  de Chamberry, who was there, and he promised to speak of England. We\n  went home to breakfast at 10\u00bd. Assisted at high mass in the Duomo\n  again; not so solemn as yesterday. The procession of the Blessed\n  Sacrament before it did not please me much. After high mass I went\n  to call on the Cardinal again. I was not so much disappointed as in\n  the case of the Bishop of _Brixen_, for I had heard nothing\n  promising about this interview as in the other cases; but I felt as\n  one defeated when I went away. I went to the Piazza del Castello to\n  see the Contessa del Verme and her sister, English people, converts\n  to whom Abbate Vittadini, at Bergamo, recommended me. Her sister,\n  Miss Mary Webster, is just about entering the order of the\n  Visitation here. The Count came in just when I was gone out, and\n  followed me to S. Alessandro, of the Barnabites, which he had heard\n  me ask for as I left his house. I brought him to see Phillipps. We\n  dined at 3\u00bd, and at 4\u00bd went to the Arena, or Amphitheatre, where\n  there was a grand _spettacolo nautico e pirotecnico._ The arena was\n  full of water, and we had five races of boats, three of men, one of\n  {326} women, and one of boys rowing; then a procession of two great\n  illuminated galleys filled with musicians; then what struck me most,\n  as most new to me, the ascent of fifty fine balloons; then of one\n  very large one; then a splendid display of fireworks, ending as\n  often with an illuminated palace, with an inscription _alle scienze,\n  alle letters, alle arti_, as the spectacle was in honour of the\n  Sixth Italian Scientific Congress, now being held here. We got home\n  at \u00bc to 9; I almost well again.\n\n  Monday, September 16.--I said mass at St. Fidele, formerly one of\n  the three Jesuit churches. At 8 we set off in a carriage to see the\n  Certosa of Pavia. We got to it at 10\u00bd, and were two hours examining\n  its beautiful details. Women are now forbidden entrance into the\n  choir, and so Mrs. Ambrose had to stay in the body of the church,\n  while we, with other people who had come to see it, saw the rich\n  high altar and many of the finest things. There are not many\n  precious stones, like rubies, emeralds, &c., but a profusion of\n  altar-fronts of Pietra-dura, beautiful _alto relievos_ in marble,\n  and many fine pictures. The convent is but lately reinhabited. Count\n  Mellerio was the means of replacing monks there. They are all\n  French. We saw the Prior, who knew Michael MacMahon. He promised to\n  recommend England not only here, but by letter in other houses. We\n  dined at an inn half a mile from the church, called Albergo della\n  Certosa, and came back to Milan by 5. I got off near the Contrada S.\n  Maria Falconeria, to call at a convent of Sisters of Charity of the\n  same order as those of Sta. Lucia, at Venice. I saw the Superioress.\n  Then I went to the Count del Verme's palace. La Contessa was\n  confined this morning. I saw Miss Webster, who spoke about two\n  English girls whom they are instructing, wishing me to receive the\n  confession of one who cannot speak Italian. I went out with the\n  priest who instructs them, Don Gaetano Fumagalli, to see them. We\n  first went to the convent of the Salesiani, 54 nuns (visitation),\n  into which Miss Webster is about to enter, and though the time was\n  past, we saw the mistress of novices through the grate, who was very\n  gracious about England. Then we went to a high story in a house\n  where these girls lodge, paid {327} for by the Cardinal. After\n  coming home I went, on an invitation obtained by the Conte del\n  Verme, to a grand assembly and concert at the Accademia, or the\n  _Nobil Societ\u00e0_. The gayest rooms I have seen a long time. I came\n  home soon after ten, for I knew nobody there, and was almost the\n  only priest I saw; certainly the only one in a cassock.\n\n  Tuesday, September 17.--Mass at St. Fidele. At 8 Count Mellerio\n  came, and we started for his villa at Gernetto, beyond Monza. He\n  took Mrs. A. and Amb., and I and a boy went in our carriage, with\n  four vetturino horses. We stopped at Monza to see the glorious relic\n  of the Iron Crown given by the Empress Helena to Constantine, in\n  which is inserted, as a ring of iron within a larger ring of gold,\n  one of the nails of Our Lord's crucifixion beat out into that form.\n  It has crowned from thirty to forty kings of Italy. Among them,\n  Napoleon last but one. Other grand relics of the Passion are with\n  it, two thorns, and a piece of the sponge. Other relics are in the\n  sacristy. This is kept over an altar within rich doors. The\n  Canonico, who was with us in the church, promised to recommend\n  England. We went on to the palace of the Archduke, surrounded by a\n  park fifteen miles round, dressed like an English park, a noble\n  palace. Then on to Gernetto, where we were for two or three hours\n  before dinner walking gaily with the Count round his beautiful\n  grounds. The villa is very handsome. Two priests of the\n  neighbourhood dined with us at 3. One told me that Count Mellerio is\n  one of the richest, or rather the richest nobleman in Milan,--about\n  \u00a315,000 a year of our money. He is alone, having lost his wife and\n  four children. He came back with us to our hotel, where I found\n  Count del Verme to tell me that the confession of the girls was put\n  off. They have been left here by their mother. Their parents, ----\n  and Ann Carraway, live at Newcastle-under-Lyne. Their grandfather\n  and mother, James and Mary Freakley, at Cheapside, Handley. I went\n  with the Count to the assembly of the learned men who are now met in\n  Milan,--not so smart as yesterday, but very numerous. Then to a\n  caf\u00e9, to read news about the effects of O'Connell's liberation.\n\n{328}\n\n  Wednesday, September 18.--I went with Phillippses to the Duomo to\n  say mass for them at St. Charles's tomb, but I found it occupied,\n  and so I went to San Fidele again, came back to breakfast, and saw\n  Conte Mellerio, who had called. Then went with them to the Brera,\n  where I went quickly through the gallery, and left them, taking the\n  carriage to go to the hospital of the Fate-bene Fratelli, which is a\n  fine establishment for 100 sick. The Vicario, whom I saw, promised\n  to recommend England to the Provincial, who is here, and through him\n  to the thirty brothers here, and five houses in Lombardy--_vento_.\n  Then I went to the bank. Dined at 1, and at 2 we started with a\n  Swiss _voiturier_, whom we had engaged to take us to Geneva. We\n  passed the beautiful triumphal arch, L'Arco della Pace, reckoned the\n  finest in the world, ancient and modern. We got to sleep at a nice\n  inn, in a place called Casiua buon Jesu. I wrote a letter to Dr.\n  Wiseman.\n\n  Thursday, September 19. San Januarius.--I said mass at the little\n  oratory of the village. There is mass here only on Sundays\n  generally, but the bell rung three times for my mass, and we had a\n  full chapel. This chapel not very neat; it seemed used for a\n  school-room. We started at \u00bd past 7, and reached Avona at 12 to\n  dine. How I was struck with the remembrance of the last time in this\n  place with my father and mother, after coming in a boat with Dr.\n  Wilson from Bavino. The inn is a fine new house since then. We saw a\n  steamboat pass, which plies daily the whole length of the lake. I\n  missed going to St. Charles's statue and the seminary near it,\n  belonging to the diocese of Novara, where I should have liked to go\n  to preach England. After dinner we started and went round to Strass,\n  where we stopped and went up the mountain's side to see Rosmini's\n  Novitiate, which overlooks the village. It is a large house, without\n  beauty or character, unhappily. We knew we should not find Rosinini,\n  who is at Roveredo. We saw Segnini and two other priests, Paoli and\n  Gagliardi. They have thirty novices. The situation is beautiful. The\n  ground belonged before to Madame Bolognaro, who has a large house in\n  the town, where, while we were at the convent, the Bishop of {329}\n  Novara came. I would not have failed to ask an audience had I been\n  alone, but I made the priests promise to speak to him of England. We\n  took a boat to go to the Isola Bella, to see the palace and gardens\n  on our way to Bavino, the carriage going on there by itself. It was\n  almost dark when we got there, and we could only see the suite of\n  grand rooms and pictures, and the chapel with the old family tombs\n  brought from Milan, by candlelight. _Mem_. A room of rockwork\n  underneath the chief suite, where Bonaparte dined, and the bedroom\n  he slept in. The whole of this grandeur is made worse than worthless\n  by the indecent statues and pictures which are all about the place.\n  We got to Bavino at 8; a nice new inn.\n\n  Friday, Sept. 20.--Ember Day, but no fast for me! I got to say mass\n  at 4\u00bd, and we started at 6 to ascend the Simplon. The day was\n  beautiful. We got to Domodossola at 11. We went up the beautiful\n  road to the Monte Calvario, of which Gentili has made me think so\n  much, first having taken a look at their college in the town, where\n  there are 19 boarders and more than 200 out-students. At the Calvary\n  two priests received us kindly. Along the road to it are chapels\n  with the stations represented in groups of figures as large as life,\n  well executed; only two or three are complete. The situation here\n  again is admirable. The house and church not remarkable. I was well\n  received for England. Coming down, which I did after the rest, I\n  visited a pretty Capuchin convent, half-way up, of fifteen friars,\n  and had a good reception (promise to write to the other houses).\n  After dinner at 2 we set off for Simplon, which we reached after 8.\n  The _voiturier_ (coachman), to spare his horses, put us on\n  post-horses at his own expense. The road on the Piedmontese side is\n  sadly dilapidated. It was broken down (by water, as it seems) six\n  years ago, and the King of Sardinia will not have his part repaired,\n  to make people go by Mount Cenis and Turin. Put up at the Simplon\n  Inn.\n\n  Saturday, Sept. 21. St. Matthew.--I said mass at 7, spoke to the\n  cur\u00e9 after, who promised for England. We started at 8; we still had\n  two hours going up the hill. {330} About the summit is the Hospice\n  de St. Bernard, begun by Bonaparte. I remember it in an unfinished\n  state. It now contains four or five priests, and some brothers. We\n  stopped and saw the Prior, M. Barras, who promised kindly to\n  recommend England to the mother house. Phillipps bought a puppy of\n  the famous breed, three months old, who was added to our company in\n  the carriage. We reached Brigy between 12 and 1. I went out before\n  dinner, and saw the Superior of the Jesuits' College here, who is a\n  nice old man, and received us very kindly. I hurried away quickly,\n  thinking to return again after dinner, but the dinner was long after\n  time, and we had at once to set off for Turtinan, which we reached\n  at 6\u00bd. We went out before tea to see a waterfall: it was a dark, wet\n  walk, for rain was beginning.\n\n  Sunday, Sept. 22.--I said mass at 5. Soon after 6 we set off for\n  Sion. Arrived at 10, and found a grand military pontifical high mass\n  begun in the cathedral. I never heard drums and cannon and the word\n  of command in a mass before. The music was not military, but noisy\n  figured. The occasion of the solemn mass was the feast of St.\n  Maurice, patron of the Valais. After mass the Bishop walked with a\n  great procession about the town, with a feretrum, with relics of St.\n  Maurice. The chief part are at the town of the name, which we are to\n  pass to-morrow. The procession had an excellent effect. I went then\n  to the Jesuits' College, and spoke to the Rector, who told me the\n  first I had heard of the attempt at revolution in the month of May\n  here, which was defeated in a gallant style by the inhabitants of\n  the Valais arming to the number of 10,000, from a population of\n  70,000, under an old French officer, _i.e._, a Swiss, trained in the\n  French army, who repelled the party of the Jeune Suisse, who\n  otherwise would have overturned religious order, and perhaps, as he\n  said, have massacred all the religious. Young Bodenham was in their\n  house when the danger threatened. The Rector was very kind, but did\n  not promise much. I went then to dine at a _table d'h\u00f4te_, but soon\n  got off, and went to the Bishop lately consecrated, who came from\n  table to speak with me. He was educated at the Collegio Germanico;\n  knew Baldacconi and Father Daniel. {331} He promised his help. I\n  then went to a Capuchin convent outside the town. The guardian, a\n  young man, was rather cold, but said meanwhile that he always prayed\n  for England, as ordered in the Confr\u00e9rie de l'Immacul\u00e9 Coeur. Then\n  to a convent of Ursulines, close to the Bishop's; eleven nuns (well\n  received); then in a hurry to an hospital outside the town on the\n  other side, with eight nuns. The director gave me one of my most\n  favourable receptions, and promised that the nuns should change\n  their day of communion from Friday to Thursday to meet my wishes. We\n  set off at 2 for Martigny, which we reached at 5\u00bd. It has a\n  different look from 1819, the year after the inundation. I called on\n  the cur\u00e9, who is one of the monks of Grand St. Bernard, with the\n  white linen scapular to represent the surplice, which they always\n  wear as canons regular of St. Augustine, to which they belong. He\n  was very good about England. From thence, I went to an hospital kept\n  by six French nuns, to receive poor travellers, female St.\n  Bernardites. The Superioress was very agreeable and zealous. They\n  are going directly to France to make their retreat with 600 other\n  nuns, assembled under the Bishop of Belley. She promised to get him\n  to recommend it to them all. I came back to tea after a happy,\n  successful day (H\u00f4tel de la Cigne). Alpine strawberries at tea.\n\n  Monday, September 23.--I said mass at 6. Came away, fearing it would\n  be too late, without saying farewell to the Prior, which was\n  mortifying, as there was time enough. We went to dine at St.\n  Gingolph, beautifully placed on the bank of the Lake of Geneva. On\n  the way we stopped at St. Maurice, where we saw in the church the\n  rich shrine of St. Maurice, containing his body, and several others;\n  two of the sons of Sigismund, King of Burgundy, who did penance\n  here, after putting them to death. In the abbey, which is of the\n  Canons Regular of St. Augustine, I saw the superior, who is a bishop\n  _in partibus_; he spoke very kindly about England. I also met a nun\n  there of a convent of Sisters of Charity, who promised for Thursdays\n  at St. Gingolph. I went to the cur\u00e9, where the Vicar introduced me\n  to several priests dining with him, who became greatly interested,\n  and {332} promised to speak to the Bishop of Annecy, and to their\n  _confr\u00e8res_ at Thonon, where we came to sleep. I called on the cur\u00e9,\n  who promised, but I could not quite satisfy myself about him; but\n  was quite satisfied with the brothers of the Christian Doctrine;\n  there are eight. The Superior promised well, and sent two brothers\n  home with me to the inn. The names of the priests at St. Gingolph\n  were:--M. Veuillet, Cur\u00e9 de D\u00e9singy; M. Maitre, Cur\u00e9 de Novel; M. La\n  Croix, Vicaire de Chilly; and M. Pollien, Vicaire de St. Gingolph.\n  The first most interesting: the last extremely tall.\n\n  Tuesday, Sept. 24. B.M.V. di Mercede.--At 5\u00bd I went to the Convent\n  of the Visitation, where there are thirty-four nuns, who have\n  recovered their house after the Revolution. The Superioress received\n  me most kindly, and promised all. I then went to the Sisters of\n  Charity, who have two houses--a _pensionnat_ and an hospital. The\n  Superioress was not up. I left my card with a lay sister. I then\n  went and said mass at the parish church. The Phillippses went to\n  communion. It was at the altar of St. Francis of Sales, in this, the\n  first church which he (or any other one) regained from the\n  Calvinists--St. Hippolyte. I offered the mass for the recovery of\n  our dear cathedrals. The cur\u00e9 spoke to me again, and much more\n  zealously promised all for Thonon, M. De la Milli\u00e8re. We ought to\n  have gone to the Ch\u00e2teau d'Allinges, where St. Francis lodged when\n  he began the holy work. The chapel has been wonderfully preserved,\n  and lately reopened, Sept. 14, 1836. On our way to Geneva, where we\n  arrived at 12\u00bd, we read some of the account of his mission. We came\n  to the Hotel de Bergues, a new grand house in a new part of the\n  town, built out on the lake about 1834. I took a carriage to\n  Plainpalais, and brought back my good friend l'Abb\u00e9 de Baudry. I\n  dined after at the _table d'h\u00f4te_. He is a tall, venerable old man,\n  dressed in his cassock, as all the priests are. His account of\n  things here was better than I thought. We set off at 3\u00bd, and could\n  not get farther than Nyon, where Phillipps and I went to see the\n  cur\u00e9 and his church, all new. There was no mission here till 1831.\n  We interested him for England, I hope. The hotel is de la Couronne.\n  In {333} every room, as at Geneva, is a New Testament of the Geneva\n  Bible Society.\n\n  Wednesday, Sept. 25.--I went at 5 to say mass at the new church; the\n  cur\u00e9, M. Rossiaud, got up to serve it, and came with me to see us\n  off. We went up the Jura; but the grand view of Mont Blanc was\n  clouded, so we have but once seen it dimly. Yesterday evening we had\n  a troublesome sorting of all our baggage at Les Rousses. We dined at\n  St. Laurent. I went to the cur\u00e9, M. Gottez, who spoke painfully of\n  the state of France (I think too much so), but brightened up when we\n  were about England. We went on to Champagnole, at the H\u00f4tel de la\n  Poste, a nice little inn. Phillipps and I went to the church; and I\n  called and saw the cur\u00e9, like Dr. Rock in looks. He accepted my\n  appeal agreeably.\n\n  Thursday, Sept. 26.--I got to say mass at the parish church, at 5.\n  The cur\u00e9, M. Patit, and the vicaire, M. Bouvet, were both up, and\n  the latter walked back with me to the inn, la Poste. We started at\n  6\u00bd; dined at 1 at l'H\u00f4tel de France, at Dole: we got there at 12. I\n  went out and saw a father at the Jesuits', who received me very\n  agreeably; and then a nun at the Visitation Convent. The Jesuit\n  promised for all the convents himself. The Prince and Princess Doria\n  were come to the inn, on their way to Italy. When we came back, I\n  went to see them after our dinner. We went on through Auxonne, where\n  Phillipps and I went to see the church,--_diligence_ to Dijon.\n  Arrived at the H\u00f4tel de la Cloche at 7\u00bd. I went out to see the\n  Bishop, but he was out. I called at the S\u00e9minaire, and saw the\n  Superior and others, who were very kind, and spoke of Brother Luke\n  asking them; then back to supper; after which I went again to the\n  \u00e9v\u00each\u00e9, and waited in the porter's lodge, talking to a nice old man\n  of eighty about the Revolution, &c., till the Bishop came in. He,\n  Monseigneur Rivet, promised his help very graciously. I got home at\n  10, having also tried in vain to get at the sacristan for mass\n  tomorrow.\n\n  Friday, Sept. 27.--I went out at ten minutes to 4, to try once more\n  the sacristan's bell, but no answer, and so I had {334} to come back\n  and give up mass, as we were to start at 5. We took provisions in\n  the carriage, and we had no mind to stop all day, till at 7\u00bd we\n  reached St. Florentin, a town of 2,400 people, in the diocese of\n  Sens. The weather was beautiful, and we admired the high cultivation\n  and seeming prosperity of the country. We passed a fine ch\u00e2teau at\n  Aucy le Franc, of the Duce or Marquis de Clermont-Tonnerre. At St.\n  Florentin I went out and saw the cur\u00e9 and the sacristan, to provide\n  better for mass to-morrow than today. H\u00f4tel de la Poste.\n\n  Saturday, Sept. 28.--Got up about 3. At a quarter to 4 I went to the\n  sacristan, and with him to the church, and said mass; a pretty\n  little Gothic church. We set off at a quarter to 5, with provisions\n  again, for Paris, which we entered about 11 at night. We stopped at\n  Sens to see the cathedral. I first went to the arch\u00e9v\u00each\u00e9, and was\n  most graciously received by the Archbishop, Monseigneur Mellon\n  Jolly, a young man translated here from S\u00e9ez last March. He said he\n  had introduced prayers for England at S\u00e9ez, and would begin again\n  now. He took me into the cathedral, and left me to see the tr\u00e9sor,\n  where the Phillippses already were. The most precious relic was of\n  the true cross, as the sacristan said, the largest in the world; but\n  he could not know of Rome and Jerusalem. It was given by\n  Charlemagne. There are two pieces, placed in a cross under crystal;\n  I should say the upright piece of nine or ten inches, the transverse\n  of four or five, well polished. What was perhaps most interesting to\n  us was the case containing St. Thomas of Canterbury's chasuble, alb\n  with apparel, stole, &c., from which the late Archbishop separated\n  what he gave to Dr. Wiseman. There is also an arm of St. Lupus, a\n  case of St. Gregory's relics, from which some have been begged for\n  Rome. We stopped again at Fontainebleau, and took a rapid view of\n  the palace. The servant who led said it was the finest in the world.\n  I think he must be partial, as the sacristan this morning about the\n  relic of the cross. Louis-Philippe has done a good deal here; spent\n  800,000 fr. in ornamenting one room. I was much pleased with the\n  gallery with pictures of the history of France. This is the {335}\n  finest matter for a palace. There was much very indecent. After this\n  it began to rain till we got to Paris. We got rooms at the H\u00f4tel de\n  l'Europe, just opposite the gardens of the Tuileries. Nothing could\n  be better.\n\n  Sunday, Sept. 29.--I went at 7\u00bd to say mass at the Madeleine, that\n  glorious church for its style. Then home to breakfast, and then,\n  with the rest, to high mass at Notre-Dame; one of the grandest plain\n  chant masses I ever was at. There I met Mr. Moore, of Birmingham;\n  and I went with him after, in his hackney-coach, on a few errands,\n  and at last to the English convent, from whence he takes one of the\n  Misses Bingham to the convent at Handsworth. Then I went again to\n  Notre-Dame, and very much to my loss: I came too late for vespers.\n  After, I went to St. Jacques, but did not find the Cur\u00e9 de Noirlieu,\n  nor his vicaire. I came back by the omnibus to dine at the\n  _restaurant_, and directly we went to Notre-Dame des Victoires,\n  where we assisted at the service, from 7 to 20 minutes to 10. It was\n  wonderful to see the attention of the people all this time. The old\n  cur\u00e9, after the sermon by another priest, gave the _annonces_ in an\n  interesting way. We heard him recommend England. I went in to ask\n  him.\n\n  Monday, Sept. 30.--I said mass at the Madeleine. After breakfast, I\n  went to Mr. Blount, the banker, who told me that Heneage was to be\n  in Paris on Thursday, the very day we go away. Then to the post, and\n  find no letters; then by omnibus to St. Sulpice (where the retreat\n  of the clergy begins to-day), to see the Archbishop. I was\n  introduced to him in a room, where he was among several priests. I\n  got on but poorly. He was gracious, but made little of the affair.\n  The secretary of Mgr. Quelin was there. He testified to his\n  recommending the thing before, but no effect followed. This was\n  damping enough, though I knew something to the contrary. The\n  Archbishop sent me to M. Vollemaux (Mr. Hand's friend), who conducts\n  the retreat, and he promised to recommend England this evening. So\n  the point is gained; though, judging from the tone in which he spoke\n  of England, it is not so promising a prospect as some. But among 600\n  priests some will be inspired, let {336} him speak as he may. I then\n  went to the rue de Chaillot, to seek Captain Cooke, to know about\n  John Beaumont. Had to come back empty, and stopped at home, not very\n  well, till 5\u00bd, when Phillippses came in from St. Denis to dinner.\n  After dinner Mr. Gordon, of the _Univers_, came to tea, and stopped\n  till 10 nearly.\n\n  Tuesday, Oct. 1.--I went to say mass at Notre-Dame des Victoires, in\n  les Petits P\u00e8res, at 8\u00bd. I breakfasted near them, and had a talk\n  with Abb\u00e9 Desgenettes. Then went to breakfast _\u00e0 la fourchette_, at\n  11, with M. Noirlieu, Cur\u00e9 of St. Jacques, and his vicaire,\n  Bourj\u00e9ant. The latter forced me, against my will, to have some\n  papers with an image and a prayer for England printed. It is the\n  like case with Belgium. I hope it may be well, as it certainly was\n  not my will, and so the denial of my will may be a blessing. We then\n  went to call on the nuncio, Mgr. Fornari; and then to the engravers\n  for this said work. Mgr. Fornari is grown very stout and unwieldy,\n  but was very kind and pleasing; he encouraged my pursuit and this\n  printing. We went home again to St. Jacques to _r\u00e9diger_ the\n  prayers, when again my friend would have his way against my mind in\n  a point or two. I came thence to the Bank, M. Blount's, then home,\n  and dined alone; then went to call on Captain Cooke, to ask about\n  John Beaumont, who, it seems, does not come to Paris at all; then\n  home, where I found the Phillippses going out to a spectacle, and so\n  I had to go off and try to stop at l'Abb\u00e9 Desgenettes', who was to\n  come to see him, but he was already from home, and so I came back\n  and received his visit, when I pressed him for England, and he took\n  it well.\n\n  Wednesday, Oct. 2.--By desire of M. Gallard, Vicaire of the\n  Madeleine, expressed by M. Bourgoiner, I said mass there. After\n  breakfast, I called on Mrs. Heneage and her daughter, 17, rue St.\n  Florentin; then took omnibus to St. Denis, where I looked through\n  the church below ground and above. It is greatly altered since\n  1838--wonderful work of painting and stained glass, yet a very\n  little is done of what has to be done. I came back by omnibus to\n  Porte St. Martin; then walked home at 6. I dined with Captain\n  Cooke--a family dinner, purely English, as he is himself. {337} I\n  liked his conversation much, blunt and plain as it is. He talked of\n  his twenty years' service--Egypt--America. I came home at 8 to meet\n  MM. Noirlieu and Bourgoigne and Gordon, who came to tea and made\n  interesting company till 11, I think.\n\n  Thursday, Oct. 3.--Said mass at St. Roch; after, I went to the\n  Jesuits, Rue des Postes, and saw the Provincial, M. Boulanger; then\n  to the Sisters of Charity, Rue de Bac; the Sacr\u00e9 Coeur, where Mad.\n  de Gramont gave me a most amiable reception; the Lazarists, Rue de\n  Sevres; then I tried to see one of the Society of St. Vincent de\n  Paul, and went with a zealous young clerk from their office, 37, Rue\n  de Seine, St. Germain, to seek an _avocat_ at the Palais de Justice.\n  I was handing about the engravings, which were ordered on Tuesday,\n  and which are well received. The sister, deputed to see me at the\n  Sisters of Charity, alone, was cold. She was the same as six years\n  ago, when she was very gracious. I came home to dine at 1 alone; at\n  2 I went to see Heneage, just arrived at his father and mother's\n  from Dieppe. I sat an hour very happily with him, and came home at\n  the time appointed to go away, but it was deferred till to-morrow.\n  So I went to the chief house of the Ecoles Chr\u00e9tiennes, about 126,\n  Rue du Faubourg St. Martin. The Superior-General was very\n  favourable, and promised to recommend England to his community of\n  300, and to the 400 houses of his order. I then took omnibus to the\n  Rue de Bac, and had an interesting conversation with Abb\u00e9 Dubois,\n  now eighty years old. Ever since 1838, he prays for England every\n  day in the mass. He is in retreat. He receives a pension of \u00a3100 a\n  year from England. I went again and had tea with him, and so\n  finished the day happily.\n\n  Friday, Oct. 4.--Mass at St. Roch. We started for Boulogne at 9\u00bd. We\n  stopped on the way to see the Church of St. Vincent de Paul,\n  building in most splendid style, in form of a basilica inside, but\n  with a portico without. Then I stopped at St. Denis, and walked\n  round it again; saw in addition the winter choir most richly\n  adorned. _Mem._--The twelve Apostles holding the consecration\n  crosses round the walls. We went on to dine at Beauvais. We went,\n  when {338} it was growing dark, to take a look at the cathedral. The\n  choir alone complete--the finest in the world. We said that the\n  French, with their present zeal and prosperity, would finish this\n  cathedral if the peace lasts ten more years. I left them in the\n  church, and went to see the Bishop. He was at dinner, but came out\n  and introduced me to the party, namely, the directors of the\n  Seminary (among them my acquaintance, M. Bareau), and some Jesuits.\n  He was most kind and favourable, and promised before them all that\n  he would say mass for England once a week for a year. The others all\n  sympathised. After this beautiful incident, I came home, and we\n  dined at the \u00c9cu de France. We afterwards drove on to Grandvilliers;\n  arrived at 11. The King of the French dined there yesterday; the\n  landlady was in raptures at it; there was the Queen, and in all\n  twenty-six, at table.\n\n  Saturday, Oct. 5.--As they failed to awake me, I missed saying mass.\n  We set off at 6\u00bd, and went, almost without a stop, dining in the\n  carriage (135 kilometres, about 85 miles), to Boulogne, where we\n  stopped at the H\u00f4tel des Bains. I went directly to see the Grand\n  Doyen, who was very kind. Returning, I found Mr. Digby with them.\n  Louis-Philippe's birthday--71 years old.\n\n  Sunday, October 6.--I said mass at 8\u00bd; got back to breakfast, and\n  then we went together to the high mass, sung by Dr. Walsh, Bishop of\n  Halifax. He had no mitre. After this, Mrs. Canning met me in the\n  sacristy, and we went to her house, No. 5, Rue de Doyen. At 2 we\n  walked to the Haute Ville, where we visited the Visitation Nuns in\n  their grand new house, twenty-seven in number, and the Ursulines,\n  fifty-two in number; then to M. Haffreingue. At 6 I went to dine\n  with the Digbys; saw Mrs. Digby for the first time. The Phillippses\n  were there, and four or five more. I walked back with the Doyen in\n  heavy rain at 10, and entered my lodgings with L'Abb\u00e9 Daniel, 73,\n  Grande Rue.\n\n  Monday, October 7.--I went with Mrs. Canning to the Visitation\n  Convent, and said the community mass at 9. After it we breakfasted\n  in the parlour at 11. M. Haffreingue came in with the Phillippses,\n  who had breakfasted {339} with him, and the Superioress, an English\n  lady of the name of Muller, and other nuns, showed us round the\n  house, which is most stately and beautiful, though it would have\n  been wonderfully better had the money been spent on Gothic work.\n  Mrs. Canning and I left at 12\u00bd, and called on Mr. Errington. We came\n  down to dine at 2. The Doyen and M. Daniel came. The Bishop also\n  came to luncheon at 8. I went up to the Haute Ville, and first\n  called on M. Gillies, a Scotch gentleman, converted last year; then\n  went to Digby's for the evening. Besides Phillippses, &c., I saw\n  Nicholas Ball. Came back at 10\u00bd.\n\n  Tuesday, October 8.--Said mass at 7\u00bd; then went to breakfast with\n  Mrs. Canning. About 11 we set off for the Haute Ville, and went once\n  more to the Visitation Convent, where we were allowed to see the\n  whole community through their grate for three quarters of an hour,\n  that I might do my best to recommend England, which I tried to do.\n  Then I visited M. Gillies, and got down to dinner at 2\u00bc. M. Le\n  Cointe, M. Le Roy, and M. Daniel, dined with us. After dinner we\n  went out and visited, first, the Soeurs Grises, an austere convent\n  of poor nuns, who teach school. They have 900 girls under care. The\n  Superioress promised for all; if she fulfils it, it is a fine gain.\n  Then to the Ecoles Chr\u00e9tiennes. They are seventeen brothers,\n  teaching 1,100 boys in different schools. They were very\n  encouraging; promised for themselves and the boys. After an hour's\n  office and tea, I went to the Haute Ville to see Phillipps and his\n  party at Digby's for the last time, as they go to-morrow. Met Mr. W.\n  Jones and wife, and others. Then at 9 I went to visit Judge Ball at\n  the H\u00f4tel de Londres. The Bishop and others were there. The family\n  was Mr. Ball, Nicholas, and Alexander, and a daughter.\n\n  Wednesday, October 9.--I said mass at the Ursulines at 7\u00bd, first\n  addressing them on England for a quarter of an hour. Then\n  breakfasted, during which six English nuns were in attendance, and\n  Miss Swift. Then my cousin and I walked to the Annonciades, when we\n  could not see the Superioress; then to the Dames de Notre-Dame du\n  bon Secours (_gardes malades_, seventeen nuns). Then in the Basse\n  Ville {340} to the Hospitalieres (thirteen nuns); these promised\n  well. Then I went home to office till dinner at 2. Mrs. Canning and\n  M. Tallier, Cur\u00e9 de Nemfchatel, who takes care of them, came over to\n  meet me. At 4 M. Thillay came. These two promised to do all they\n  could. At 5 Mrs. C. and I walked to the steamboat office,\n  post-office, &c. Came back to office and tea. Then I went up to\n  change my quarters, and pass some days at the college with M.\n  Haffreingue. I first called and saw Mrs. Gillies. I sat some time\n  with M. Haffreingue, and to bed at 10.\n\n  Thursday, October 10.--Said mass at \u00bc to 8. At 10 Dr. Walsh came up\n  and sung mass _de Spiritu Sancto_, for the opening of studies. The\n  boys came back yesterday. I assisted him as Assistant Deacon. At 1\u00bd\n  we dined. The Bishop, M. O'Reilly, and a M. Cardham, a London\n  convert, were all the strangers. The rest were the professors of the\n  house. After dinner we had toasts, cheers, and speeches, on England,\n  Mr. O'Reilly leading it. At 10, I went and saw Abbate Melia at Mrs.\n  Errington's. He is going to replace Baldacconi in London. Then to\n  Mrs. Canning's to tea. Returned for night prayers at 7\u00bd. Supper\n  comes after. I talked to M. Haffreingue about architecture.\n\n  Friday, October 11.--I said mass at 7\u00bd in the chapel of Notre-Dame\n  de Boulogne; breakfasted with M. Haffreingue. At 10 I called on\n  Digby, then Mrs. Canning, and Mrs. Gillies. I dined in the\n  Infirmary, to eat meat with M. Grettan, the English teacher, and\n  little Rosamel, grandson of a great admiral. M. Haffreingue and I\n  took a walk, and went through the crypt of the cathedral. Night\n  prayers and supper in the refectory at 7\u00bd. After it, M. Haffreingue\n  and I went to call on Mrs. Muller and Digby.\n\n  Saturday, October 12.--Said mass in the Chapelle de Notre-Dame. Miss\n  Muller breakfasted with us. She is the great support of M.\n  Haffreingue's great work of building the cathedral, having begged\n  for it for years past. I asked her to have prayers made for England,\n  as M. Haffreingue announces the cathedral to be undertaken mainly\n  for that enterprise. She promised to interest the poor. I thought of\n  my sermon, and did other things till near 12. When I {341} went out,\n  called on Mr. Stewart, a Scotch pastrycook, lately converted and\n  received by Sisk. At 1, I dined (_gras_) with Mrs. Canning. After,\n  called on Lady Burke and her two daughters, near the Porte. Came\n  back after; walked an hour in the Grande Salle with Haffreingue,\n  talking over projects for England and France.\n\n  Sunday, October 13.--Got up after 7, and sung high mass in the\n  chapel at 9. After it I went to Mrs. Canning's till dinner time,\n  when I returned and dined in the refectory. The afternoon was mostly\n  preparing my sermon, which I preached on the conversion of England\n  at the _salut_ at 7. The boys clapped their hands to my surprise\n  when I entered the refectory to supper; in token of acceptance, I\n  hope. I got on better than I could have thought, and was not a bit\n  tired. After supper I went with M. Haffreingue and M. Le Roy; a\n  farewell visit to Digby. It blows hard, and I fear it will be a bad\n  passage to-morrow, or none at all.\n\n  Monday, October 14.--The Abbate Melia, Dr. Baldacconi's intended\n  successor, came to sing songs, and breakfast at the college, and\n  went down with me to the port. Mr. Bodenham came with us, too. We\n  waited from 9 till 10.20 before they set off. They seemed to fear\n  the wind. When we got out it was a most stormy passage to\n  Folkestone, of three hours. I stood up all the way, holding on,\n  talking with M. Crawley, of the Hotel, Albemarle Street, except we\n  were nearly sick. We swung through the narrow walk of Folkestone\n  Harbour, and were at once smooth, and soon on England's soil. It was\n  a long work passing the Custom House, but we got off by a train at\n  3.49. I set Mr. Melia down at Pagliano's, where we found Dr. Walsh\n  (of Halifax), and had tea. Sisk and Mgr. Eyre came in by good\n  fortune, and I went with them home to their quarters at the Chelsea\n  chapel-house.\n\n  Tuesday, October 15.--Said mass at 8\u00bd. Then went to try Dr.\n  Chambers, who is out of town. Then to Spence House, and saw\n  Appleyard. By his advice, I determined to go to Windsor to-day, the\n  Queen being just now away. I called on Father Lithgoe, and attended\n  a meeting of ladies at Sisk's, then off by the Great Western Railway\n  to Slough, {342} and so to Windsor. I saw Caroline at Lady Grant's,\n  where she lodges, close to the Castle, where I dined at 8, first\n  having seen Sarah at the Castle, and the Prince of Wales, with whom\n  she was playing. He is a weakly-looking child of four, but noble and\n  clever looking. He behaved prettily to us all in going off to bed.\n\n  Wednesday, October 16.--After sleeping at the Castle Inn, I walked\n  to the Catholic chapel at Chrom, attended last Sunday by\n  Louis-Philippe, who charmed them all. I said mass, and then Mr.\n  Wilson took me in a gig a mile on to call on Mr. Riley, at Forest\n  Hill. He was out. I thence called to Windsor, and was with Sarah\n  from 12 to 1\u00bd, while the children were asleep. Then went down to\n  Eton, called on Mr. Coleridge, then walked about the well-known\n  places, the chapel, the cloisters, where I left a card on Wilder,\n  now a fellow. I went and mused over the place which once was\n  Godley's, but all is levelled. I stood by the oak-tree there, saw\n  the boys assembling for 3 o'clock school, and talked to some. I\n  brought back many a scene thirty years and more ago. At 3, started\n  back and dined with Sisk. After dinner we went to see Mrs. Bagshawe\n  and Mrs. Jauch back in an omnibus.\n\n  Thursday, October 17.--Mass at 8\u00bd. Went to see Dr. Watson, whom I\n  found to be my former friend, fellow of St. John's. It was a good\n  account of me, thank God. Then to Mr. Nerincx, at Somers Town. Then\n  to Mr. Morel, at Hampstead, and Mrs. Sankey, near him; then called\n  at the Sardinian Chapel, and home to dine, and sit the evening with\n  Sisk.\n\nFriday, October 18.\n\n(_This journal breaks off here, and is not resumed._)\n\n\n\n{343}\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nClose Of His Career In Oscott; And His Religious Vocation.\n\n\nDuring the year 1845 his attention was greatly occupied with the\nconverts that were coming daily into the Church through the Oxford\nmovement. As Father Spencer was not a mover in it, and as its history\nhas been written over and over by different members of it, it would be\nsuperfluous to give anything like a sketch of it in such a work as\nthis. Father Spencer seemed to have great interest in Dr. Newman, as\nalso Dr. Ward, Canon Oakeley, and Father Faber. Many of them go to\nOscott, some to be received, and some to make their studies for the\nChurch; and in the beginning of the year 1846 he writes that he had\ntwelve who were Anglican clergymen assisting at his mass one day in\nOscott, and that there were three more who might have been, but were\nunable to come.\n\nHe takes advantage of the Feast of St. Pius V. to preach his famous\nsermon on Ezekiel's vision of the dry bones. In a few days he assists\nat the ordination of the present Bishop of Northampton, the Right Rev.\nDr. Amherst. A number of converts received orders at the same time,\nand Father Spencer had the pleasure of assisting at the ceremony. He\nresumes his Journal in May, 1846, and we find these two entries in it:\n\n  \"Tuesday, June 9.--We had news to-day of the death of Pope Gregory\n  XVI. on the 1st of June, after fifteen years and four months'\n  pontificate. God grant a holy successor, full of fortitude and love,\n  especially for England.\"\n\n  \"June 22. News of Cardinal Feretti being Pope (Pius IX.). The brave\n  Bishop of Imola, who stopped the progress of the insurgents in 1831.\n  I am perfectly satisfied.\"\n\n{344}\n\nHe went into retreat at Hodder under the direction of Father Clarke,\nS.J., and the result of that retreat was that he became a Passionist.\nWe shall give a letter he wrote to Mr. Phillipps at the time, in which\nhe gives a full account of how this was brought about.\n\n  \"St. Benedict's Priory, Feast of St. John Cantius,\n    \"Oct. 22, 1846.\n\n  \"My Dear Ambrose,--Yesterday, for the first time this long time, I\n  heard where you were, and that you were within reach again of a\n  Queen's head. This was from Mrs. Henry Whitgrave, next to whom I sat\n  at dinner yesterday, at the Clifford Arms, Great Heywood, after the\n  opening high mass of the new chapel there, which she and her husband\n  came from Rugeley to attend. I determined not to lose another day in\n  writing to you, lest you should hear from others, which I should not\n  be pleased with, the news I have to give about myself. Perhaps you\n  have already heard of it; but it is not my fault that you have not\n  had the news from me. The news in question is that I am going to\n  become a Passionist. You have frequently told me your persuasion,\n  that what would be for my happiness would be to join a religious\n  institute, and therefore I am confident you will rejoice with me at\n  my prejudices being overcome, my fond schemes of other plans of my\n  own set aside, and this good step at length determined on; though I\n  can imagine that you will perhaps regret that the body which I join\n  is not that with which you are most connected yourself, the\n  Institute of Charity. Surprised I dare say you will not be much.\n  Many others have received the declaration of this intention without\n  any surprise, and only told me that they had been used to wonder how\n  I did not long ago take such a step. You will only be surprised and\n  wonder how I have come to this mind, after such decided purposes, as\n  I have always expressed the contrary way. I can only say, Glory be\n  to God, to our Blessed Lady, and St. Ignatius. It was entirely owing\n  to the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius, which I have gone\n  through twice, and only twice, in private and alone in the effective\n  way. Once was at Louvain, where {345} you parted from me two years\n  ago to go to K\u00f6nigswinter, and the other time was this summer, when\n  I went for a retreat at Hodder Place, under your friend Father\n  Thomas Clarke, who is Master of Novices there. For two or three days\n  in the course of the former of these retreats, I was brought (for\n  the first time) to doubt whether I ought not to give up my own\n  ideas, and take to the regular established course of entering\n  religion; and the old Jesuit who directed me in that retreat, when I\n  expressed these new ideas, seemed at first to think they would lead\n  to this conclusion. But I suppose I was not ripe for it, or God's\n  time was not come. It ended by his telling me to put aside all those\n  thoughts, and go on as I was. So I did, and was without any idea of\n  the kind till the middle of this second retreat, which I entered\n  with no view but to get on better where I was for another year. The\n  same meditations raised up again the same battle within me as at\n  Louvain, and I saw no way but to go into the matter, and make my\n  election according to the rules given by St. Ignatius; which, if\n  they were applied more often to questions of importance which people\n  have to settle, ah! we should have many resolutions come to\n  different to what are come to in the world. I soon came to determine\n  for a change of state; then came the question which body to choose,\n  and for a whole day nearly this was working my thoughts up and down.\n  I could see no prospect of deciding between the two which came\n  before me at first and for which I found my feelings and my judgment\n  alternately inclining me--these were the Jesuits and the Institute\n  of Charity. I saw no prospect of making up my mind that day, though\n  Father Clarke told me now was the time for such a choice, and not\n  when I had gone out again into the world, and I knew that God whom I\n  had sought in solitude would give me light. At last, when I had just\n  finished my last meditation of that portion of the retreat, and\n  still could not settle, I thought I must have recourse after the\n  retreat was over to Father Dominic, as a neutral judge, to help me\n  to choose between the other two; when, in a minute, as in the fable\n  of the two men who found the oyster and called in the third to judge\n  between {346} them, I saw that Father Dominic himself was to have\n  me, such as I was, and all my doubts vanished. Father Clarke came\n  soon afterwards to pay me his daily visit, and confirmed my choice\n  with a manner and tone as unhesitating as the choice itself had\n  been, and would not let me afterwards give way to the fear of any\n  difficulties, saying, once for all, when I was questioning how I\n  could get over some of them, 'Well, if you do not get over them, God\n  has been deceiving you.' How I extol now and praise the practice of\n  spiritual exercises, and St. Ignatius, the great founder of the\n  system of them, and the Jesuits in their conduct of them, as\n  exemplified in Father Clarke, whose way with me so completely gave\n  the lie to what people are disposed to think, that the Jesuits must\n  bring everything and everybody to themselves when they get them into\n  their hands. I intend to express my sense of obligation to them and\n  St. Ignatius, by taking his name as my future designation, after I\n  am admitted to the religious habit. So I hope in time I may come to\n  be known no more by my own name, but by that of _Ignatius of St.\n  Paul_. And as God gives me this _nomen novum_ may he add the _manna\n  absconditum_, and make me in spirit as different from what I have\n  been as in name. It is a great satisfaction that all this was\n  settled without Father Dominic or any Passionist having a hint of\n  it, till I went up to London three days after the retreat, to tell\n  him of the determination I had made. The next day I came back to\n  Oscott, and told Dr. Wiseman. He was, of course, surprised at the\n  news, and at first seemed to think I could not be really in earnest,\n  but ever since has acted in the most considerate and kind manner\n  towards me. My move, I am sorry to think, must entail on him and\n  dear Bishop Walsh serious inconveniences, not so much for the loss\n  of my services where they had placed me, for I hope if I live I may\n  serve them better as I shall be circumstanced hereafter, as I was\n  doing little at Oscott, but from the withdrawal of my funds, which I\n  fear may take place perhaps even to their entire amount, but\n  certainly in great part. Not that any part goes to the congregation\n  (of the Passion); thank God, I am received there _in form\u00e1 pauperis_\n  and all {347} which remains to me would be left to the Bishop; but\n  my dear brother seems quite determined to make my vow of poverty as\n  much one in earnest as it can be; and so, bitter as that part of the\n  trial is, God bless him for it! I think I must have told you how my\n  income came to me. My father left me a certain capital quite\n  independently, which went long ago to building churches, and \u00a3300 a\n  year to be paid to me as long as I did not put it out of my own\n  power, in which case it was to be in the power of my brother, now\n  living, and other trustees, to be employed to my advantage. My late\n  brother gave me as much more of his own free will, and this brother\n  has hitherto continued this, but now says that he cannot give it to\n  support Catholicity; and as he will not use it himself, it is to go\n  for my lifetime to religious and charitable purposes such as he\n  thinks fit. So half of my money is clean gone, and the other half\n  depends upon what interpretation the law puts on the terms of my\n  father's will. Bishop Wiseman takes this so beautifully and\n  disinterestedly, that I trust the loss he thus bears for God's sake\n  will be more than amply compensated to him. My sister, Lady\n  Lyttelton, takes my change beautifully.\"\n\nThe pecuniary losses his ecclesiastical superiors would sustain\nprevented them giving him the opposition they otherwise would. It\nwould not look well to try to keep him out of religion, under the\ncircumstances; and besides, Cardinal Wiseman was not the person to\nprevent his priests becoming religious, if he were only convinced they\nhad a vocation.\n\nWhen Father Spencer was on his way to London to consult with Father\nDominic about his reception, a musket went off by accident in the\ncarriage he was in, and the ball passed through the skylight. This\ngave him rather a start, and made him think a little about the\nshortness of life. He appears to have found Father Dominic giving a\nretreat to the nuns of the Sacr\u00e9 Coeur, who are now at Roehampton. The\nsaintly Passionist was delighted with the news, and Father Ignatius\nused to say that he seemed to be more delighted still at the fact that\nhe was not bringing a penny to the order. On his return to Oscott, the\nfirst thing we heard {348} was that a Quaker had been converted by a\nsermon he preached in Birkenhead, which sermon he thought himself was\nabout the worst he ever delivered. He meets a little opposition,\nhowever; they wish him to stay until his thoughts get settled into\ntheir original state after the retreat. He fears this to be a\nstratagem of the enemy, and, lest it might make him lose his vocation,\nhe makes a vow of entering religion at or before Christmas. When this\nbecame known, nobody could in conscience oppose him, for only the Pope\ncould dispense him from entering now.\n\nAt length everything is settled. His \u00a3300 income remains to the Bishop\nand his brother promises to provide for his pensioners. All things\nbeing thus arranged, he visits all the poor people about Oscott and\nWest Bromwich, to give them a parting advice and blessing, spiritual\nand temporal. He writes to all his friends, packs up his books and\nother smaller movables, receives two converts--Laing and Walker--gets\nDr. Wiseman's blessing, and has his carriage to the train, takes third\nclass to Stafford, and on his birthday, 21st December, 1846, at 8\no'clock in the evening, arrives at Aston Hall, to enter the\nPassionists' noviciate.\n\n\n{349}\n\n\nBOOK IV.\n\n_F. Ignatius, a Passionist._\n\n\n{350}\n\n\nBOOK IV.\n\n_F. Ignatius, a Passionist._\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nThe Noviciate.\n\n\nReligious orders in the Church may be compared to a vast army,\ncomposed of different regiments, with different uniforms, different\ntactics, and different posts in the kingdom of God, offensive and\ndefensive, against the kingdom of Satan. The Pope is the head of all,\nand various generals bear rule, in his name, over the forces who have\nchosen them for their leaders.\n\nSome religious orders fill chairs in universities; others are charged\nwith the instruction of youth. Some watch by the sickbed; others\nransom captive slaves, or bring consolation to the miserable in\nprisons and asylums. Some, again, work at the rooting out of sin and\ndisorders at home, whilst others carry the light of the Gospel to the\nheathen. Some pitch their tents in deserts or mountain fastnesses,\nwhilst a more numerous body take up their abode in the abandoned\npurlieus of crowded cities.\n\nEvery religious order has some one characteristic spirit, a mark by\nwhich it may be distinguished from the others. This may be called the\ngenius of the order. It is mostly the spirit that animated the founder\nwhen he gathered his first companions around him, and drew up the code\nby which {352} their lives were to be regulated. This spirit may be\nsuited to one age and not to another; it may be local or universal; on\nits scope depends the existence and spread of the order; its decay or\nunsuitableness will portend the extinction of the body it animated.\n\nThis spirit may take in the whole battle-field of religion, and then\nwe see members of that order in every post in which an advantage may\nbe gained, or a blow dealt upon the enemy. It may take in some parts\nand leave the rest to the different battalions that are already in\ncharge, prepared to render assistance in any department as soon as its\nservices may be needed.\n\nThe religious order known as the Congregation of the Passion has a\npeculiar spirit and a special work. It was founded by Blessed Paul of\nthe Cross in the middle of the last century, and approved by Benedict\nXIV., Clement XIV., and Pius VI. Its object is to work in whatever\nportion of the Church it may have a house established, for the\nuprooting of sin, and the planting of virtue in the hearts of the\nfaithful. The means it brings to this, in addition to the usual ones\nof preaching and hearing confessions, is a spreading among Christians\na devotion to and a grateful, lively remembrance of the Passion of our\nLord. The Passionists carry out this work by missions and retreats, as\nwell as parish work in their own houses. If circumstances need it,\nthey take charge of a parish; if not, they do the work of missioners\nin their own churches. They teach none except their own younger\nmembers, and they go on foreign missions when sent by His Holiness or\nthe Propaganda.\n\nTo keep the members of an order always ready for their out-door work,\nthere are certain rules for their interior life which may be likened\nto the drill or parade of soldiers in their quarters. This discipline\nvaries according to the spirit of each order.\n\nThe idea of a Passionist's work will lead us to expect what his\ndiscipline must be. The spirit of a Passionist is a spirit of\natonement; he says, with St. Paul: \"I rejoice in my sufferings, and\nfill up those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in\nmy flesh for His body, which is the {353} Church.\" Coloss. i. 24. For\nthis cause, the interior life of a Passionist is rather austere. He\nhas to rise shortly after midnight, from a bed of straw, to chaunt\nmatins and lauds, and spend some time in meditation. He has two hours\nmore meditation during the day, and altogether about five hours of\nchoir-work in the twenty-four. He fasts and abstains from flesh meat\nthree days in the week, all the year round, besides Lent and Advent.\nHe is clad in a coarse black garment; wears sandals instead of shoes;\nand practises other acts of penance of minor importance.\n\nThis seems rather a hard life; but an ordinary constitution does not\nfind the least difficulty in complying with the letter of the rule. It\nis withal a happy, cheerful life; for it seems the nature of penance\nto make the heart of the penitent light and gladsome, \"rejoicing in\nsuffering.\" Two facts are proved by experience. First, that scarcely\none ever left the order on account of the corporal austerities, though\nthey are used as a plea to justify the step by those who lose the\nreligious spirit. Secondly, longevity is more common amongst us than\nany other order, except perhaps the Cistercians, whose rule is far\nmore severe than ours. A Passionist is bound by this rule only within\nthe retreat, as houses of the order are called; outside, he follows\nthe Gospel ordinance of partaking of what is set before him, and\nsuiting himself to the circumstances in which he is placed. The\nSuperior, moreover, has a discretionary power of granting exemptions,\nin favour of those who require some indulgence in consequence of\nillness or extra labour.\n\nIt will be seen, from this sketch, that Passionists have to lay up a\nstock of virtue, by a monastic life at home, in order that their\nministrations for their neighbour may be attended with more abundant\nfruit. They unite the active and contemplative spirit, that both may\nhelp to the saving of their own souls by qualifying them better for\naiding in the salvation of others.\n\nThis was the kind of life Father Spencer began to lead on his\nforty-seventh birthday. For a man of his age, with habits formed, with\nhealth subject to occasional shocks, it was certainly a formidable\nundertaking. There was little of {354} human glory to eclipse those\ndifficulties in the community he entered. Four foreign fathers, living\nin a wretched house, as yet unable to speak passable English, without\na church, without friends, without funds, without influence, formed\nthe principal portion of the community of Aston Hall. These were,\nFather Dominic, Father Gaudentius, Father Constantine, and Father\nVincent. None of these four fathers are in the province at present.\nFathers Dominic and Constantine are dead. Father Gaudentius is a\nmember of the American province; and Father Vincent, after many years\nof zealous missionary work in these countries, was called to Rome,\nwhere he now holds the office of Procurator-General. They had one\nstudent, two lay brothers, and Father Spencer was to be the second of\ntwo novices. The Passionists had already been four years in England,\nand, through trials and difficulties, from poverty and misunderstandings,\nhad worked their way up to the precarious position in which he found\nthem. He was, therefore, a great acquisition to the struggling\ncommunity. True, he brought no earthly riches; but he brought what was\nmore valued, an unearthly spirit--he brought humility, docility, and\nburning zeal.\n\nThe fathers knew him for a long time, and scarcely required proofs to\nconvince them of his having a religious vocation, since he had\npractised the vows before then in a very perfect way, considering his\nstate. He gave clear proofs of his spirit on the eve of his coming to\nAston. He came, as he glories in telling Mr. Phillipps, _in form\u00e2\npauperis_. Some of his friends wished to give him the price of his\nhabit by way of alms; he would not accept of it. He then reflected on\nthe poverty of the Passionists, and thought it would be well if he\nbrought even so much, whereupon he proposed to beg the money. The\nlargest alms he intended to receive was half-a-crown. He was forbidden\nto do this by his director, and obeyed at once: thus giving a proof of\nhis spirit of poverty and obedience.\n\nNotwithstanding all this, the fathers were determined to judge for\nthemselves, and try by experiment if any aristocratic _hauteur_ might\nyet lurk in the corners of his {355} disposition. Our rule, moreover,\nrequires that postulants be tried by humiliations before being\nadmitted to the habit; and many and various are the tests applied,\ndepending, as they do, on the judgment of the master of novices. One\nclause of the rule was especially applicable to Father Spencer: \"_Qui\nnobili ortus est genere, accuratiore et diuturniore experimento\nprobetur_; \"and the strict Father Constantine, who was then the\nmaster, resolved that not a word of it should be unfulfilled. A day or\ntwo after his arrival, he was ordered to wash down an old, rusty\nflight of stairs. He tucked up his sleeves and fell to, using his\nbrush, tub, and soapsuds with as much zest and good will as if he had\nbeen just hired as a maid-of-all-work. Of course, he was no great\nadept at this kind of employment, and probably his want of skill drew\ndown some sharp rebukes from his overseer. Some tender-hearted\nreligious never could forget the sight of this venerable ecclesiastic\ntrying to scour the crevices and crannies to the satisfaction of his\nnew master. He got through it well, and took the corrections so\nbeautifully, that in a few days he was voted to the habit.\n\nOn the afternoon of the 5th January, 1847, vespers are just concluded,\nand the bell is rung for another function. People are hurrying up to\nthe little chapel, and whispering to each other about the scene they\nare going to witness. The altar is prepared as for a feast. The\nthurifers and acolytes head the procession from the sacristy; next\nfollow the religious; then Father Dominic arrayed in surplice and\ncope. After him follows Father Spencer, in the costume of a secular\npriest. He kneels on the altar step; he has laid aside long before all\nthat the world could give him; he has thrown its greatness and its\nfolly away as vanities to be despised, and now asks for the\npenitential garb of the sons of the Passion, with all its concomitant\nhardships. He had not yet experienced the happiness it brings: he had\nonly begun to earn it by broken rest, fasts, and humiliations. Father\nDominic blesses the habit, mantle, and cincture; he addresses a few\ntouching words to the postulant, and prepares to vest him. In the\npresence of all he takes off the cassock, the habit is put on and\nbound with a leathern {356} girdle, a cross is placed upon his\nshoulder, a crown of thorns on his head, benedictions are invoked upon\nhim according to the ritual, the religious intone the _Ecce quam\nbonum_, Our Lord gives His blessing from the Monstrance, and the\nHonourable and Reverend-George Spencer is greeted as a brother and\ncompanion by Father Dominic, under the new name of Father Ignatius of\nSt. Paul. Thus ended the function of that day, and the benisons of the\nrite were not pronounced in vain.\n\nIt is the custom with us to drop the family name on our reception, to\nsignify the cutting away of all carnal ties, except inasmuch as they\nmay help to benefit souls. A religious should be dead to nature, and\nhis relationship henceforth is with the saints. This is why, among\nmany religious orders of men, and nearly all of women, some saint or\nsome mystery of religion to which the novice is specially devoted is\nsubstituted instead of the family name. In most cases, also, the\nChristian name is changed; this, following the example of our Lord,\nwho changed the names of some of the Apostles, is useful in many ways,\nas well to typify newness of life as to help in distinguishing one\nfrom another when the aid of family names is taken away. Father\nIgnatius gave his reasons above for preferring this name, and events,\nboth before and after, make us applaud the fitness of the choice.\n\nA novice's life is a very eventless one; it has little in it of\nimportance to others, though it is of so much consequence to himself.\nThe coming of a postulant, the going away of a newly-made brother, the\nmistakes of a tyro at bell-ringing, chanting, or ceremonies, are of\ninterest enough to occupy several recreations. The absence of\nsoul-stirring news from without gives these trifles room to swell into\nimportance. When the little incidents are invested with ludicrous or\npeculiar circumstances, they often have a sheet of the chronicles\ndedicated to their history by the most witty or least busy of the\nnovices.\n\nA postulant ran away the day after Father Ignatius was clothed; he\nheard the religious take the discipline, and no amount of explanations\nor coaxing could induce him to {357} accustom his ear to the noise,\nmuch less his body to the stripes, of this function. The senior novice\nleft at the same time; he was a priest, and died on the London mission\nthe very same year as Father Ignatius. In a few days more Father\nDominic caught a novice dressing his hair and giving himself airs\nbefore a looking-glass. His habit was stripped off, and he was sent to\nthe outer world, where, perhaps, the adorning of his good looks was of\nmore service to him than it was at Aston Hall.\n\nIt is a received tradition in the religious life that vocations which\nare not tried by difficulties seldom prove sea-worthy, so to speak.\nBefore or after the novice enters, he must be opposed and disappointed\nin some way; he has to pay dear for the favour of serving God in this\nstate of life, if he be destined to act any important part in the\nChurch as a religious. Father Ignatius had his trials. He found it\ndifficult to pick up all the _minutiae_ of novice discipline: he\nsuffered a little from homesickness, and these, joined to chilled\nfeet, a hard bed, and meagre food, did not allow him to enjoy to any\ngreat extent the delightful sensation known as _fervor novitiorum_. He\ngot over all this, as we see from a letter he wrote to a friend in\nMarch:--\n\n  \"I am here in a state in which not a shadow of trouble seems to\n  come, but what I cause for myself. With a little humility there is\n  peace enough. I suppose I shall have some more troubles hereafter if\n  I live. I have not been so well for several years. Some would have\n  thought a Lent without a bit of meat would not have done for me; but\n  I have seen now since Shrove Tuesday, and, in Lent or out of it, I\n  never have been better. So in that respect, viz., my health, I\n  suppose my trial here is satisfactory.\"\n\nA rude shock was in store for his health which he little anticipated\nwhen he wrote those lines. This was the terrible year of famine in\nIreland, that year which will be remembered for ever by those who\nlived in the midst of the harrowing scenes that overspread that\nunhappy country. Poor famishing creatures, who had laid their fathers\nor mothers, and perhaps their children, in coffinless graves, begged\ntheir way to England, and began that tide of {358} emigration which\nhas since peopled Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, and London, with\nsuch crowds of Catholics. Every ship brought its cargo of misery, and\nthe hapless victims were forced by their poverty to seek for lodgings\nin dens of vice, or employment where virtue was not paramount. They\nthus imbibed a poison to their morals which has not yet been\ncompletely purged out of the thousands who have had to follow the\nfootsteps of their famine-stricken predecessors. Numbers of the poor\nIrish gathered around Stone and Aston; fever broke out amongst them,\nand the wards of the workhouse infirmaries were unable to contain even\na moiety of the sufferers. Every hovel and barn had their burning\noccupants, and even charity itself seemed frightened from giving\nassistance. The priest was, of course, busy; and, fortunately for\nAston, more than one priest could be had to attend the dying.\n\nAll our fathers were at the bed of death many times in the day. Father\nGaudentius was struck down with fever, Father Vincent followed next.\nThe duties now devolved upon Father Dominic and Father Ignatius. The\npoor novice was prostrated by the pestilence, after administering the\nlast rites of the Church to many. He gets a very malignant attack, and\nin a few days is at the point of death. He prepared for his last\npassage with the most beautiful dispositions. He thanked God for the\nprivilege of his state, and was particularly delighted at the prospect\nof dying a martyr to his charity. He receives the Viaticum and Extreme\nUnction, makes his profession as on death-bed, becomes insensible, and\nis given an hour to live by the doctors. The religious commence a\nnovena, in which they are joined by the people, for his recovery. God\npreserved him to his brethren and their flock, for he began\nimmediately to mend. We may form an idea of this poor community, all\nthe active members, except Father Dominic, dying, or in feeble\nconvalescence; their resources, perhaps, run out; and all the energy\nthey had left taxed to its utmost to answer the calls of duty. Few as\nthey were, they had not the least idea of sparing themselves. They\nstill hoped to increase and multiply; but, after the example {359} of\nHim who increased by dying, and likened the progress of His Church to\nthe dying of the grain of corn in the soil of its growth.\n\nCharitable friends came to their assistance, and amongst the rest,\nEarl Spencer sent a handsome sum to pay doctors' expenses for his\nbrother. This was considerate, indeed, and as soon as Father Ignatius\ncould manage a pen, he wrote to thank him for his charity. Numbers\nwere deeply concerned for our novice, and two or three Catholic nobles\ninvited him to come and stay with them during his convalescence.\nFather Dominic did not think him sufficiently ill to warrant his\nsleeping out of the house, so their kind offers were thankfully\ndeclined.\n\nThis illness was a double blow to Father Ignatius: he had just\nreceived orders from his Superior to prepare for the missions when it\ncame on. An end was put to his preparation for the time, but he\nresumed the task as soon as the doctors allowed him.\n\nDuring his noviciate he had two kinds of trials to endure, besides\nthose mentioned already. Father Constantine was remarkable for his\nmeekness and charity; but he put on extra severity for Father\nIgnatius. His companions tried to show him some marks of distinction,\nand would offer to relieve him from works that were humiliating, or\nlikely to be galling to one of his standing. The latter trial he\ncomplained of, and he was troubled at the other because some of of the\nreligious complained of the novice-master's severity towards him. He\nhad some more mortifications of the kind he playfully told us a few\nchapters back, as affecting Father Dominic in Oscott. He was troubled\nwith chilblains, and was obliged, in consequence, to wear shoes and\nstockings for a great part of his noviciate. This he looked upon as a\ngreat grievance, inasmuch as he could not live like the others. When\nat last the chilblains got well, and he was allowed to put on the\nsandals, he felt overjoyed, and even writes a letter to congratulate\nhimself on his happiness.\n\nHe writes two or three letters, in which he notes his astonishment at\nthe Irish being so negligent in England, who had been so regular at\nhome. He says, they all send {360} for the priest, and show great\nsigns of repentance when dying; but, out of a number he attended, only\none returned to the Church after recovery. \"Still,\" he says, \"it would\nbe long till one of them would answer as the English pensioner is\nreported to have done on his death-bed. The minister talked much about\nHeaven and its happiness, but the patient coolly replied, 'It's all\nvery well, sir; but old England and King George for me!'\"\n\nHis noviciate glides quietly on to its end; and except his ordinary\nwork of attending to a mission in Stone besides his home duties,\nnothing occurs to break the monotony.\n\nAt length, on the 6th of January, 1848, Father Ignatius and Father\nDominic remain up after matins. We are told in the Journal, that the\nnovice made his confession and had a long conference with his\ndirector, in preparation for the great event of his profession. Father\nDominic was going off that day, but the conveyance disappointed him,\nhe was obliged to wait till the next. That evening Father Ignatius is\nonce more in the midst of a moving ceremony: on his knees, with his\nhands placed in Father Dominic's he pronounces his irrevocable\nconsecration by the vows of his religious profession.[Footnote 10] The\nbadges are affixed to his breast, the sacrifice is completed--and well\nand worthily was it carried out. It is easier to imagine than to\ndescribe the joy of the two holy friends, so long united in the bonds\nof heavenly charity, as they spoke that day about their first\nacquaintance, and wondered at the dispositions of Providence, which\nnow made them more than brothers.\n\n    [Footnote 10: The profession on death-bed is conditional, so that\n    if a novice recovers, after thus pronouncing his vows, he has to\n    go on as if they had not been made.]\n\n\n{361}\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nHis First Year As A Passionist.\n\n\nShortly after his profession, Father Ignatius was sent out on\nmissions. The first mission he gave, with Father Gaudentius, was to\nhis old parishioners of West Bromwich. Crowds came to hear him; some\nto have another affectionate look, and hear once more the well-known\nvoice of their old pastor; others from curiosity to see what he had\nbeen transformed into by the monks. This mission was very successful,\nfor, besides the usual work of the reconciliation of sinners, and the\nhelping on of the fervent, there were fifteen Protestants received\ninto the Church before its close. He gives another mission somewhere\nin the Borough, London, with the same companion. During this mission\nhe hears that his style of preaching is not liked much by the Irish;\nhe feels a little sad at this, as he fears the work may fail of\nsuccess through his deficiency.\n\nThe preaching of Father Ignatius was peculiar to himself; he cannot be\nsaid to possess the gifts of human eloquence in the highest degree,\nbut there was a something like inspiration in his most commonplace\ndiscourse. He put the point of his sermon clearly before his audience,\nand he proved it most admirably. His acquaintance with the Scriptures\nwas something marvellous; not only could he quote texts in support of\ndoctrines, but he applied the facts of the sacred volume in such a\nhappy way, with such a flood of new ideas, that one would imagine he\nlived in the midst of them, or had been told by the sacred writers\nwhat they were intended for. Besides this, he brought a fund of\nillustrations to carry conviction through and through the mind. His\nillustrations were taken from every phase of life, and every kind of\n{362} employment; persons listening to him always found the practical\ngist of his discourse carried into their very homestead; nay, the\nobjections they themselves were prepared to advance against it, were\nanswered before they could have been thought out. To add to this,\nthere was an earnestness in his manner that made you see his whole\nsoul, as it were, bent upon your spiritual good. His holiness of life,\nwhich report published before him, and one look was enough to convince\nyou of its being true, compelled you to set a value on what he said,\nfar above the _dicta_ of ordinary priests.\n\nHis style was formed on the Gospel. He loved the parables and the\nsimiles of Our Lord, and rightly judged that the style of his Divine\nMaster was the most worthy of imitation. So far as the matter of his\ndiscourses were concerned, he was inimitable; his manner was peculiar\nto himself, deeply earnest and touching. He abstained from the\nrousing, thundering style, and his attempts that way to suit the taste\nand thus work upon the convictions of certain congregations, showed\nhim that his fort did not lie there. The consequence was, that when\nthe words of what he jocosely termed a \"crack\" preacher would die with\nthe sound of his own voice, or the exclamations of the multitude,\nFather Ignatius's words lived with their lives, and helped them to\nbear trials that came thirty years after they had heard him.\n\nTowards the end of his life, he became rather tiresome to those who\nknew not his spirit; but it was the tiresomeness of St. John the\nEvangelist. We are told that \"the disciple whom Jesus loved\" used to\nbe carried in his old age before the people, and that his only sermon\nwas \"My little children, love one another.\" He preached no more, and\nno less, but kept perpetually repeating these few words. Father\nIgnatius, in like manner, was continually repeating \"the conversion of\nEngland.\" No matter what the subject of his sermon was, he brought\nthis in. He told us often that it became a second nature to him; that\nhe could not quit thinking or speaking of it, even if he tried, and\nbelieved he could speak for ten days consecutively on the conversion\nof England, without having to repeat an idea.\n\n{363}\n\nHe got on very well in the missions: he took all the different parts\nas they were assigned him; but he was more successful in the lectures\nthan in the great sermons of the evening. His confessional was always\nbesieged with penitents, and he never spared himself.\n\nThe late Cardinal, who was the chief mover in bringing the Passionists\nto England, wished to have a house of the order in the diocese of\nWestminster (then the London District), to which he had been recently\ntranslated. Father Dominic entered heartily into the project, and\nFather Ignatius with him. After a few weeks' negotiation, they took\npossession of Poplar House, in the west end of Hampstead, towards the\nend of June, 1848. A new foundation was, in those days, as it is\nstill, a formidable undertaking. The ground has generally to be\nbought; a church and house built upon it; the necessary machinery to\nset it going to be provided, and all this from nothing but the\nProvidence of God, and the charity of benefactors. Under a more than\nordinary pressure of their difficulties, the house was opened, and\nafter many changes and removals, it has finally fixed itself on the\nbrow of Highgate Hill, under the name of St. Joseph's Retreat.\n\nHe notes in his Journal that the place in Hampstead brought some sad\nthoughts into his mind, as it was within sight of where his sister,\nLady Georgiana Quin, died in 1823. He tells us also that he was\nbenighted somewhere in London, and had to beg for a bed for the first\ntime in his life. On a fine summer's day he sauntered leisurely\nthrough the grounds of Eton, ruminating over the scenes of forty years\nbefore, when he first became a child of what proved to him a novercal\ninstitution.\n\nHe was not destined to labour much, this time, for the London house.\nFather Dominic took the charge of it, and appointed Father Ignatius\nRector of St. Michael's, Aston Hall, a post that became vacant by the\ndeath of Father Constantine. Father Ignatius thus mentions the matter\nin one of his letters:--\n\n  \"It was just such a death as one might expect of him (Father\n  Constantine). I was thinking and saying to some one before, he would\n  be attending to his duties and giving directions in the house to the\n  last. In his {364} agony, he heard the clock strike, and, mistaking\n  the hour for another when some bell has to ring, he asked why the\n  bell did not ring for such a duty. It is recorded that what was most\n  remarkable in him was his gentleness and patience; and that indeed\n  was very striking. He must have suffered heavily to die in a\n  lingering way by a cancer, but he never was disturbed, and went on\n  saying mass, and doing all that was to be done, as long as he could\n  stand to it. His loss makes, as you have heard, a great change in my\n  position. I never dreamt of being a Superior for years to come, and\n  thought I had come to an end, almost for life, of keeping accounts\n  and ruling household affairs. But God's will be done. It is a great\n  comfort, as I find, to be in the rule of good religious, to what it\n  would be to have people under one who seek their own gain and\n  pleasure.\"\n\nRuling, even thus, did not turn out so easy a matter; for it is\nrecorded in the Journal, that Father Dominic gave him \"a long lecture\nabout the proper way of ruling,\" which he seems to have drawn down\nupon himself by some mistakes.\n\nIn the beginning of September, this year, he gave his first retreat.\nIt was to the students of Carlow College. This event gave him a fresh\nstart in his great work. Since 1844, when he made the tour on the\nContinent, procuring prayers for England, his zeal in the cause seems\nto have slumbered somewhat. Not that he was the less anxious for the\nreturn of his countrymen to the faith of their fathers, but he did\nnot, perhaps, see any opportunity open for moving others in a general\nway to help the work by their prayers. It is rather a wonderful\ndisposition of Providence that his energies should be renewed in\nIreland, and that, too, in '48. Extracts from a few letters will show\nhow it happened. In a letter to Mrs. Canning, he says:--\n\n  \"My last journey to Ireland was, in the first place, to preach a\n  retreat in Carlow College, which was the first and only retreat I\n  have been on alone; secondly, to beg in Dublin for our church and\n  house; thirdly, I got full into the pursuit of prayers for England\n  again. I had hardly expected anything could be done in this last way\n  under the excited state of feelings in Ireland against England. I\n  began, {365} however, speaking in a convent in Carlow, and so warm\n  and beautiful was the way in which these nuns took it up, that I\n  lost no occasion after of saying mass in some convents every\n  morning, and preaching to them upon it; and the zeal which they\n  showed has given me a new spring to push it on in England.\n  Accordingly, I have been preaching many times on it since I have\n  been this time in Lancashire. I only ask now _one Hail Mary_ a day\n  to be said by every Catholic for the conversion of England. Here is\n  a great field to work upon. You want to be doing something for\n  England, I know; why not take up this object, and in every letter\n  you write abroad or at home make people promise to do this, and make\n  every man, woman, and child do it too. If millions would do as much\n  as this, we should have thousands who would offer themselves up as\n  victims to be immolated for the object, and we should have grand\n  results. Above all, let it be done in schools at home; so that all\n  the young may be trained to pant for this object, as young Hannibal\n  for the destruction of Rome; and a foundation will be laid for the\n  work to go on after we are all dead, if no fruit appears before.\"\n\nIn a letter to Father Vincent, he writes almost in the same strain:--\n\n  \"My journey to Ireland was satisfactory in several respects to a\n  certain degree. It answered well for begging purposes. With all\n  their poverty, they are so generous that I made one of my best\n  week's begging in Dublin. I hope for a great deal more in November,\n  when I am going again to preach in Dublin, and will stay as long as\n  I can. I picked up also one novice, not a cleric, but, I hope, a\n  very promising lay brother. I think there will be many good subjects\n  for us in Ireland, when we are better known there.' (In this his\n  expectations were most signally realized.) \"I also got into the\n  pursuit of prayers for England again. I said mass, and preached\n  after mass ten times in convents on the subject, and the zeal and\n  charity with which it was taken up by the good religious quite gave\n  me a new spring in that cause. I have begun preaching in England for\n  prayers. Will you help me in this? I have been writing, with Father\n  {366} Dominic's approval, to our General, to obtain some indulgences\n  for those who will join in those prayers.\"\n\nIn this year, Father Ignatius lost two great friends by death, Dr.\nGentili and the Rev. Wm. Richmond. He had several conversations with\nthe former, who was then giving his last mission in Dublin, and\nassisted on his return to England, at the death-bed of Mr. Richmond.\nHe used to relate how this worthy man became a Catholic, as an\ninstance of the ways of God in conversion. When Richmond was a boy, he\nwent to see an uncle of his, who was a priest. One day he saw candles\nlit in the church in clear daylight. On entering, to satisfy himself\nthat nothing was wrong, he saw his uncle issuing from the sacristy, in\nthe most fantastic garb he ever beheld. He ran out of the church in a\nfright, and scarcely came near his uncle for three days. He did sum up\ncourage enough to approach at length, and the end was that he became a\npriest himself, and outshone his uncle.\n\nDuring the visit Father Ignatius paid to Ireland, according to\npromise, in the November of this year, he preached in several places\non the conversion of England. He went to Maynooth, and addressed the\njunior students at night prayer and the seniors at morning prayer, on\nthe same subject. He remains nearly a month in Ireland this time. He\nmeets a few secular people who are not so kind and generous in\nlistening to him as nuns and students. One day he begged of a\ngentleman, who immediately began to grope in his pocket for a coin\nwhich he should consider worthy of offering. Whilst the search was\ngoing on, Father Ignatius ventured to ask prayers for the conversion\nof England. \"England!\" said the gentleman; \"I pray for England! Not\nI.\" And he turned off with a refusal, and left his petitioner to find\nanother benefactor.\n\nWhen he returned to England, he preached everywhere, to priests, nuns,\nand people; he wrote and spoke continually for prayers for England.\nThe only change in his system since the former crusade was, that the\nprayer he asked for was defined. It was only _one Hail Mary_ daily.\nThis prayer he was especially fond of using; he said it for every\nperson and everything. The antiphon of the Church, {367} \"Rejoice,\nVirgin Mary, thou alone hast destroyed all heresies throughout the\nworld,\" was continually in his heart. The devotion of the people of\nIreland to our Blessed Lady brought this out; and it was remarked by\nhimself and others, that when once he had put the great object of his\nendeavours under the protection of Mary, he never cooled or slackened,\nbut always progressed with blessings.\n\nThe last day of this year was spent as all such days of his life,\nsince he turned thoroughly to God's service, in being awake and in\nprayer at midnight.\n\n\n{368}\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nA Peculiar Mission.\n\n\nFather Ignatius had an idea in his mind for a number of years, and saw\nno practical way in which it might be realized. He looked forward,\nwith a pleasing anticipation, to the prospect of going about from\nparish to parish on a kind of itinerary mission. The thing was unusual\nin our day, and he saw no plea by which it could be justified to\nothers, or he should have gone on it long before. He proposed it at\nlast to his Superiors, and the circumstances of his position\nwonderfully favoured its prosecution.\n\nVoluntary poverty was raised to a virtue by the example and teaching\nof our Divine Lord, and poverty must always have a counterpart. To be\npoor is to be dependent, and want is ordained for the sanctification\nof plenty. When our Divine Master said that it was difficult for the\nrich man to be saved, He subjoined that with God all things are\npossible. The miseries of the poor are the channels through which\nriches can flow into Heaven, and make friends to their possessors of\nthe mammon of iniquity.\n\nIn the dispensation of Providence, the Church watches over the\ninterests of all her children, and whilst she proclaims the severity\nof the Gospel maxims, she provides for their observance. She must\npreach poverty of spirit, from the text of the sermon on the Mount,\nand she manages to make kings who are richer than David live after\nGod's own heart. The beautiful harmony between rank and lowliness,\nauthority and submission, prosperity and adversity, has long ago been\narranged by the practice of the ages of faith, and by the Pontifical\nconstitutions which impress the seal of the Fisherman upon the usages\nof Catholicity.\n\n{369}\n\nIn no department of Catholic polity is this superior wisdom so well\nexemplified as in the rules of mendicant orders. The Church takes the\nnoble from his seat of power, she makes him cast his coronet at the\nfeet of Peter, and stretch out his hand to his former vassal for the\npaltry morsel that is to sustain his future existence. She forbids him\nto accumulate; she makes him give back a thousand-fold what he\nreceives. By thus bringing down the pride of power and making it pay\ncourt to the discontented child of penury, she reconciles man with\nProvidence and suffuses reverence through the crowd, who might grumble\nat greatness, by making their lord according to the world their\nservant according to the Gospel.\n\nThe constitutions of the Congregation of the Passion are framed upon\nthe spirit of the Church. If a man of property joins our poor\ninstitute, he cannot bring his possessions with him to enrich the\ncommunity he enters; for Blessed Paul has not allowed them to have any\nfixed revenue. He may, indeed, give a donation towards the building of\ntheir church, the furnishing of their poor schools, or the paying off\nthe debts they were obliged to contract to secure the ground upon\nwhich their monastery is built; but that is left to his own charity.\nHe is supposed by our rule to hand over his property to a relative or\na charitable institution, and reserve to himself the right to take it\nback, in case he may not persevere in his vocation, or abandon the\nlife he has embraced.\n\nThus deprived of stable funds, we are to rely upon the Providence of\nGod; and we can give Him glory by confessing that we never yet found\nHis word to fail, \"Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his justice,\nand all these things shall be added unto you.\" Betimes we may have to\nsend a brother to ask for some assistance from kind benefactors; but,\nas a rule, God inspires many to befriend us without our asking. The\nduties of missions and retreats, and the preparation for them, prevent\nus from digging a livelihood out of the earth; but the sweat of our\nbrow that is thus spent earns our bread by procuring us friends.\nPeople crowd to our churches, and leave thank-offerings there to prove\nthe reality of their devotion; and, as an ancient {370} father of ours\nonce said, \"our support comes in through the choir-windows.\"\n\nWhen we have to build a church or a house, we must follow the custom\nof surrounding priests; but, as our working is not purely local, we\nsend a father or brother to distant countries, and try not to be too\nburthensome to our neighbours. Charity endureth all things; but the\nbranch of charity which is exercised in the giving of alms is not\nalways content to be too much importuned, or called upon too often.\nCharity therefore requires that those who plead for the exercise of\none arm do not strain the other, and it makes provision against\nprovoking anger or ill-feeling from the weaknesses it tries to cure by\nstirring to activity.\n\nIn the year 1848 the fathers at Aston Hall stood in sore need of a\nchurch. Hitherto they had turned a room upstairs into a temporary\nchapel; and, inconvenient as it might be to have people going so far\ninto a religious house, they would have borne up longer, had not a\nbuilder told them that anything like a crowd would bring the whole\nplace down about their ears. Father Ignatius mentions this in a letter\nhe wrote to Mrs. Canning. \"It will,\" he says, \"be a great addition to\nus to have a respectable church, instead of our chapel up-stairs; but\nwe should not have had a plea for asking for it, if this chapel had\nnot been so good as to give us notice to quit, by becoming cracky a\nlittle.\"\n\nHere, then, was an opportunity. Some one should go out and beg. Father\nIgnatius was commissioned to write letters, but though the first was\nanswered by a cheque for \u00a3100, with a promise of more, there was not\nenough forthcoming to enable them to build. Could he not do two things\nat once? Could he not ask for prayers as well as alms? Did not the\nvery plea of begging give him a right to go to different places, even\nfrom parish to parish, and speak publicly and privately? It did. And\nhe was forthwith sent out to carry into execution the dreams of half a\nlife, which he scarcely ever expected to realize. He first began this\npeculiar mission of his by going through the towns with a guide, like\nordinary questers: in a few years the plan developed itself into the\n\"little missions.\"\n\n{371}\n\nHis first begging tour was through Birmingham, Derby, Nottingham,\nOscott, Leamington, and Wolverhampton. In a few months he sallies\nforth again, and Liverpool is the theatre of his labours. Many and\nrude were the trials he had to endure in this humiliating work. He\nthus playfully alludes to some of them:\n\n  \"I am on a begging mission here at Liverpool, in which I find rough\n  and smooth, ups and downs, every day. The general result is very\n  fair. I have been here since Monday, the 8th of May\" (he writes on\n  the 20th), \"and have got more than \u00a3100, but with hard walking. I\n  am, however, quite well, and the inflammation of my eye quite\n  gone--nothing left but a little haziness. It lasted five weeks\n  without relenting at all. If it had gone on, I must have stayed at\n  home; but it just began to improve before I started, and has got\n  well, _tout en marchant_. My present life is very pleasant when\n  money comes kindly; but when I get refused, or walk a long way and\n  find every one out, it is a bit mortifying. That is best gain for\n  me, I suppose, though not what I am travelling for. .... I should\n  not have had the time this morning to write to you, had it not been\n  for a disappointment in meeting a young man, who was to have been my\n  begging-guide for part of the day; and so I had to come home, and\n  stay till it is time to go and try my fortune in the enormous\n  market-house, where there are innumerable stalls with poultry, eggs,\n  fruit, meat, &c., kept in great part by Irish men and women, on whom\n  I have to-day, presently, to go and dance attendance, as this is the\n  great market-day. I feel, when going out for a job like this, as a\n  poor child going in a bathing machine to be dipped in the sea,\n  _frisonnant_; but the Irish are so good-natured and generous that\n  they generally make the work among them full of pleasure, when once\n  I am in it.\"\n\nOne sees a vast difference between begging of the rich and of the\npoor. If the latter have nothing to give, they will at least show a\nkind face, and will not presume to question the priest about his\nbusiness; whereas some of the former, because they have something\nwhich they will not give, either absent themselves or treat the priest\nunkindly for {372} asking. For what? Because he begs. It is not for\nhimself: he even retrenches necessaries from his own table in order to\nspare something for the house of God. And what, after all, does he\nask? The price of an hour's recreation, or an extra ornament, that may\nbe very well spared. That is all. The priest wants people to look\nafter their own interests, to send their money before them to heaven,\ninstead of wasting it on vanity or sin. And because he does this, and\nhumbles himself for the sake of his God, he must be made to feel it.\nFather Ignatius was keenly alive to this, and the way he felt for\nthose who forgot themselves by sending him away empty was far more\nafflictive than the personal humiliation. He could thank God for the\nlatter, but he could not do so for the former.\n\nOnce he was fiercely abused, when begging, and as the reviler had come\nto a full stop in his froward speech, Father Ignatius quietly\nretorted: \"Well, as you have been so generous to myself personally,\nperhaps you would be so kind as to give me something now for my\ncommunity.\" This had a remarkable effect. It procured him a handsome\noffering then, as well as many others ever since.\n\nAnother day he knocked at a door, and was admitted by a very\nsumptuously attired footman. Father Ignatius told the servant the\nobject of his visit, his religious name, and asked if he could see the\nlady or gentleman of the house. The servant strode off to see, and in\na few seconds returned to say that the gentleman was out, and the lady\nwas engaged and could not see him, neither could she afford to help\nhim. He then remarked that perhaps she was not aware that he was the\nHonourable Mr. Spencer. The servant looked at him, bowed politely and\nretired. In a minute or two Father Ignatius hears a rustling of silks\nand a tripping of quick steps on the stairs. In came my lady, and what\nwith blushings and bowings, and excuses and apologies, she scarcely\nknew where she was until she found herself and him t\u00eate-\u00e0-t\u00eate. She\nreally did not know it was he, and there were so many impostors. \"But\nwhat will you take, my dear sir?\" and before he could say yea or nay\nshe rung for his friend the footman. Father Ignatius coolly said, that\nhe did not {373} then stand in need of anything to eat, and that he\nnever took wine; but that he did stand in need of money for a good\npurpose, and if she could give him anything in that way he should be\nvery glad to accept it. She handed him a five-pound note at once,\nexpressing many regrets that something or other prevented its being\nmore. Father Ignatius took the note, folded it carefully, made sure of\nits being safely lodged in his pocket, and then made thanksgiving in\nsomething like the following words: \"Now, I am very sorry to have to\ntell you that the alms you have given me will do you very little good.\nIf I had not been born of a noble family, you would have turned me\naway with coldness and contempt. I take the money, because it will be\nas useful to me as if it were given with a good motive; but I would\nadvise you, for the future, if you have any regard for your soul, to\nlet the love of God, and not human respect, prompt your alms-giving.\"\nSo saying, he took his hat and bid his benefactress a good morning.\n\nMany were the anecdotes he told us about his begging adventures; but\nit is next to impossible to remember them. In every case, however, we\ncould see the saint through the veil his humility tried to cast over\nhimself. Whether he was received well or ill, he always tried to turn\nhis reception to the spiritual benefit of those who received him. He\nmade more friends than any person living, perhaps, and never was known\nto make an enemy; his very simplicity and holiness disarmed malice. He\nsays, in a letter, upon getting his first commission to go and quest:\n\"I am to be a great beggar!\" His prognostication began to be verified.\nStrange fact, the Honourable George Spencer a beggar! And happier,\nunder all the trials and crosses incident to such a life, than if he\nhad lived in the luxury of Althorp. Religion is carrying out to-day\nwhat its Founder began eighteen hundred years ago. He left the kingdom\nof heaven to live on the charity of His own creatures.\n\n{374}\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nDeath Of Father Dominic.\n\n\nWe group the incidents of this chapter around this sad event: some of\nthem were the last these two bosom friends did together, and the\nothers were occasioned by their separation.\n\nEarly in January, 1849, Father Ignatius went, at the invitation of Mr.\nJohn Smith, of Button, to see a spot of ground upon which that worthy\nman intended building a church and house for a community of\nPassionists. Father Ignatius did not like the situation; but as soon\nas he spoke to Father Dominic about it, they both came to St. Helen's\nJunction to see if two heads might not be wiser than one. Father\nDominic landed on the platform a little before Father Ignatius, who\nhad been delayed somewhere on the way. He went immediately to look for\nthe great benefactor. A fine-looking, open, plain man saluted him, and\nhe thought this must be a Catholic, and likely he knows the person I\nam looking for. \"Do you know where lives a certain Mr. Smith?\" asked\nFather Dominic. \"I should think I did,\" answered his new friend, and\nafter a few minutes' conversation the father was satisfied, for he was\nno other than Mr. Smith himself. They both walked over a considerable\nextent of ground, within which Mr. Smith told the good father to make\nhis choice of a site. He had selected that whereon St. Anne's Retreat\nnow stands, when Father Ignatius arrived. Father Ignatius hesitated a\nlittle before giving his consent, and it was only when Father Dominic\nsaid emphatically, \"The house that is to be built here will yet be the\nlargest and best we shall have in England,\" that he fully agreed. That\nprophecy is noted in a {375} journal Father Ignatius kept at the time,\nand he wondered afterwards how the church and monastery that arose on\nthat dreary spot verified it to the letter. It is the best and largest\nwe have in England at the present moment, and Father Dominic never saw\na stone of its foundations laid.\n\nFathers Dominic, Ignatius, and Vincent, give a mission in Romney\nTerrace, Westminster, in March. Shortly after they give another in\nHigh Street, Dublin. At this mission they introduced the Italian\nceremonies, such as peacemakers (persons appointed to reconcile those\nat variance), special sermons for different classes of people, bell\nfor the five _paters_, and public asking of pardon by the\nmissionaries. It fell to Father Ignatius to be spokesman in this\nlatter ceremony, and sore straitened was he to find out in what\nparticular the fathers had offended, that he might therefrom draw the\napology for their act. He searched and searched, and at last\nremembered his own proneness to nod asleep when too long in the\nconfessional. This was the plea he made, and we must say it was a very\npoor one: it gives, however, a good idea of his candour, and want of\nunreality. These demonstrations were found to be unsuited to the\ngenius of the people, and have been suffered to fall into desuetude\never since.\n\nFather Ignatius goes next on a begging tour through Manchester,\nSheffield, and the north of England. He called at Carstairs House, on\nhis way to Glasgow and Edinburgh, to visit his friend Mr. Monteith.\nMr. Monteith was received into the Church by Dr. Wiseman, when Father\nIgnatius lived in Oscott. Father Ignatius was his god-father. A\nfriendship then began between them which never cooled; they kept up a\ncorrespondence from which many important hints have been borrowed for\nthis book, and it was from Mr. Monteith's place the soul of Father\nIgnatius took its departure for a better world. Mr. Monteith extended\nthe friendship he had for Father Ignatius to his other religious\nbrethren, and time after time has he given them substantial proofs of\nits depth and generosity.\n\nFather Ignatius and he had been for some time in correspondence about\nfounding a house of Passionists {376} somewhere near Lanark or\nCarstairs; but circumstances over which they had no control prevented\nthem coming to a conclusion. The Vincentians have well and worthily\ntaken the place, and the first house of our order founded in Scotland\nwas St. Mungo's, Glasgow, a few months after Father Ignatius's death.\nIt was he who opened Mr. Monteith's domestic chapel, and said the\nfirst mass in it. And it was in the same chapel the first mass was\nsaid for his own soul in presence of the body.\n\nHe says in the Journal:--\n\n  \"Tuesday, Aug. 14.--Went to London with Father Dominic. We had a\n  fine talk with Dr. Wiseman. We dined at 12\u00bd in King William Street\n  with Faber and the Oratorians.\n\n  \"Wednesday, Aug. 15.--Sung mass at 10 and preached, Prepared in a\n  hurry for my journey. Went off at 3\u00bd for the Continent.\"\n\nHe never saw Father Dominic in the flesh again.\n\nOn the 27th of August, 1849, Father Dominic and a brother priest were\ntravelling by railway to Aston. In the morning, before leaving London,\nthe companion asked Father Dominic to bring him with him; he had just\narrived from Australia, and wished to see some of his old companions\nat Aston Hall. Father Dominic thought this was not reason enough for\nincurring the expense of the journey; he demurred, but at length\nassented. It was fortunate he did. When they came as far as Reading,\nFather Dominic became suddenly ill. He was taken out on the platform,\nand as the people were afraid of an epidemic, no one would admit the\npatient into his house. There lay the worn-out missionary, who had\nprayed and toiled so long for the conversion of England, on that bleak\ndesolate-looking platform, abandoned by all for whose salvation he\nthirsted, with only a companion kneeling by his side to prepare him\nfor eternity. But the coldness and want of hospitality of the people\ngave him no concern: other thoughts engrossed him. A few minutes he\nsuffered, and in those few he made his preparation. He made\narrangements for the government of our houses, he gave his last\ninstructions to his companion, he invoked a blessing upon England, and\nthen placidly {377} closed his eyes for ever upon this wicked world,\nto open them in a brighter one. He died abandoned, and almost alone,\nbut he died in the poverty he had practised, and the solitude he\nloved.\n\nFather Ignatius was in Holland at the time. On his arrival at our\nhouse in Tournay he heard a rumour of Father Dominic's death. He gave\nno credit to it at first; a letter written to him about it went\nastray; and it was not until about a fortnight after it happened that\nhe saw a paragraph in a newspaper, giving the full particulars. He\nhastened home at once to England, and the first thing he heard from\nDr. Wiseman was that Father Dominic had nominated him his successor.\n\nFather Ignatius, when his provisional appointment had been confirmed\nin Rome, could only look forward to trials and difficulties such as he\nhad never to get through before. We had then three houses of the order\nin England, and one in Belgium, which were united under one Superior,\nacting as Provincial. The houses were not yet constituted into a\ncanonical province. The fewness of the members, and their ignorance of\nthe customs and ways of a strange country, increased the difficulties.\nThat year, indeed, four excellent priests, who have since worked hard\non the English mission, came from Rome; but they could as yet only say\nmass, on account of their imperfect acquaintance with the English\nlanguage.\n\nThen, the existence of each house was so precarious that the smallest\ngust of opposition seemed sufficient to unpeople them. Aston Hall was\nstruggling to build a church, in which undertaking that mission was\ndestined to exhaust all the life it had; for it eked out but a dying\nexistence from the time the church was opened, until it was given up\nin a few years. The retreat at Woodchester seemed to have lacked any\nspirit of vitality from the absence of the cross in its foundation.\nThe generosity of a convert made everything smooth and convenient in\nthe beginning, but the difficulties that led at length to our leaving\nit were already threatening to rise. The house in London was doomed to\nbe transplanted to the wilderness of The Hyde, even before {378} the\ndeath of Father Dominic, and St. Anne's, Sutton, was not yet begun.\n\nThis was the material position of the Passionists when Father Ignatius\nbecame Superior, or _quasi_ Provincial. To add to this, the fathers\nwere not first-rate men of business. They could pray well, preach and\nhear confessions, but they gave people of the world credit for being\nbetter than they were. Some of their worldly affairs became,\ntherefore, complicated, and Father Ignatius, unfortunately, was not\nthe man to rectify matters and put them straight. He was a sage in\nspirituals, but the very reverse in temporals.\n\nMany of the religious became disheartened at the prospect. Some lost\ntheir vocations. Many fought manfully with contending difficulties,\nweathered all the storms, and, tempered and taught by those days of\ntrouble, look with smiling placidity on what we should think serious\ncrosses in these days. Such is the beginning of every religious\ninstitute; it grows and thrives by contradiction and persecution.\nHuman foresight prophesied our destruction then, and could not believe\nthat in sixteen years we should have seven houses in this province,\nwith an average of about twenty religious for each. The ways of God\nare wonderful.\n\nThis kind of confession was necessary, in order that readers might\nhave an idea of Father Ignatius's position after the death of Father\nDominic.\n\nHe set to work at once, first carrying out Father Dominic's\nintentions, and then trying some special work of his own. The new\nchurch at Woodchester was consecrated by Dr. Hendren and Dr.\nUllathorne, and Dr. Wiseman preached at the opening. The new church of\nSt. Michael's, Aston Hall, was opened in the same year. On the 7th of\nNovember the community of Poplar House, two priests and a lay brother,\nmove to The Hyde.\n\nFather Ignatius, with Fathers Vincent and Gaudentius, give a mission\nin Westminster, and they venture out in their habits through the\nstreets of London. This mission brought out some of Father Ignatius's\npeculiarities. In the instruction upon the sanctification of holy\ndays, which it was his duty to give, he proposed that the Irish should\nmake {379} \"a general strike, not for wages, but for mass on\nfestivals.\" He went to visit Father Faber, who was ill at the time;\nthey became engrossed in conversation, when Father Ignatius looked at\nhis watch and said he should get away to prepare his sermon or\ninstruction. Father Faber said this was a very human proceeding, and\nwas of opinion that missionaries should be able to preach like the\nApostles, without preparation. Father Ignatius turned the matter over\nin his mind, reasoned it out with himself, and thenceforward never\ndelivered what might be called an elaborate discourse.\n\nIt may be remarked, before closing the chapter, that Father Dominic,\nat Father Ignatius's suggestion, ordered, in the beginning of 1849,\nthree Hail Marys to be said by us after Complin for the conversion of\nEngland. The practice is still continued, and has been extended to our\nhouses on the Continent and in America.\n\n\n{380}\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nSpirit Of Father Ignatius At This Time.\n\n\nSo much has to be said about the exterior actions of Father Ignatius,\nthat one is apt, in reading them, to forget the spirit in which they\nwere done. It is true that it is by the nature of the actions\nthemselves a judgment can be formed of what that spirit must have\nbeen, but then they are liable to a false construction.\n\nHe was chiefly remarkable for his spirit of poverty. It was not alone\nthat he loved poverty, and tried to observe his vow, but he refined\nthis observance to an exquisite degree, by trying to treat himself and\nget others to treat him like a mean beggar. He wished to feel poverty,\nand sought hardships in things that were easy enough, for that end.\nWhen he went by train he always took a third-class ticket, and was\nmost ingenious in his defence of this proceeding. If some one objected\nto him that the third-class carriages generally contained rough, low,\nill-bred, and coarsely-spoken fellows, he gently answered: \"Yes; you\nmay find a thick sprinkling of blackguards there.\" \"Whether or no,\" he\nwould say again, \"the third class is the poor man's class, and it\nought to be mine.\" One time he was expected to preach a grand sermon\nin some town or other; the lord of the manor, a Catholic, ordered his\ncarriage, with livery servants, and came himself to bring him in state\nto the priest's house. He waited for the good father on the platform,\nlooking at the doors of the different first-class carriages, and\ncondescending to give a glance or two towards the second. What was his\nsurprise when Father Ignatius, habit and sandals and a', got out of a\nthird. \"My dear Father Ignatius,\" he half indignantly exclaimed, \"why\ndo _you_ travel by {381} third class?\" \"Well,\" replied Father\nIgnatius, \"because there isn't a fourth.\"\n\nThis idea that he was a poor man and ought to live like one he carried\nout in everything. He might be generally seen with a large blue bag.\nThis bag was not of a respectable make or durable material; no, it was\nmade of some kind of drogget, like an ordinary sack, and had a thick\nclumsy tape that gathered in the mouth of it, and closed it with a big\nknot. When he had a long journey before him he brought a pair of\nthese, and tying them together put the knot upon his shoulder, and\nwould trudge off six or seven miles with one dangling in front and\nanother behind. If somebody offered him a seat in a car or wagon, he\ngladly accepted it; if not, he did without it. On this same principle\nhe seldom refused a meal when out; and if he wanted something to eat,\nhe generally went and begged for it at the first house he came to. At\nhome he usually washed and mended his underclothing and stockings (the\nstockings, by the way, would have blistered the hardest foot after his\nmending), and whilst he was Superior he would never allow anyone to do\na menial service for him. He had a great dread of the slightest\nattempt at over-nicety in a priest's dress; it was anguish to him to\nsee a priest, especially a religious, with kid gloves, neat shoes, or\na fashionable hat. His own appearance might be put down as one degree\nshort of slovenliness. Be it remembered that this was not his natural\nbent. We are told by those who knew him when a young man, that he\nwould walk a dozen streets in London, and enter every hosier's shop,\nto find articles that would suit his taste in style and fitting; it\nhad been almost impossible to please him in this respect; whereas,\nwhen a religious, he would as soon wear a cast-off tartan as anything\nelse, if it did not tend to bring a kind of disrespect upon his order.\nHe wore for several years an old mantle belonging to a religious who\ndied, and would never leave it off as long as there was room for\nanother patch upon it, unless the Provincial gave him strict orders to\ndo so.\n\nHe was scrupulously exact in fulfilling the rules and regulations of\nthe Congregation, so much so that even in {382} those cases in which\nothers would consider themselves dispensed, he would go through\neverything. It is our rule to chant the entire of the Divine Office in\nchoir; the rector is supposed to give a homily or two, called\n_examens_, every week to the religious. When there is not a sufficient\nnumber to chant, of course no law human or divine would require us to\ndo so; and if there be not a congregation, one is not expected, in the\nordinary course of things, to preach to empty benches. Father Ignatius\nwas as keenly aware of the common-sense drift of this kind of\nreasoning as any one could be, but he so overcame the promptings of\nhuman considerations, that a literal observance, in the face of such\nplain exceptions, seemed his ordinary way of acting. There are two\ninstances in point that occurred about the year 1849. The two priests\nwho formed the choir of the community at The Hyde remained in bed one\nnight, either from illness or late attendance at sick-calls, and\nFather Ignatius was the only priest present. He chanted the whole of\nmatins and lauds by himself, and went through it as formally as if\nthere were twenty religious in choir. Another day the priests were\nout, and he and two lay brothers only remained at home; he preached\nthem the _examen_ just the same as if the choir was full. Another time\nthe alarum that used to go off at one o'clock, at that time for\nmatins, missed. Father Ignatius awoke at three o'clock, and he\nimmediately sprung the rattle and assembled the religious for matins.\nAt half-past four the night work in choir was over: half-past five was\nthen the hour of rising for prime. Father Ignatius kept them all in\nchoir until the time, and had the bells rung, and everything else in\ndue order. This does not argue a kind of unreasoning observance in\nhim, out of time and out of place. On the contrary, he well knew that\nit was inconvenient, but he thought God would be more glorified by it\nthan by an exemption from what was prescribed. One anecdote he used to\nrelate to us convinced us of that. He often related with particular\ntact how once in Aston Hall, Father Dominic did not hear the bell for\nmatins. He awoke at half-past two; everything was still. He went and\nsounded the rattle with a vengeance, {383} as if every sound was meant\nto say, \"I'll give a good penance to the brother that forgot to put up\nthe alarum.\" When he had done sounding he dropped the instrument at\nthe choir door, and went in with a taper to light the lamps. What was\nhis mortification to find all the religious just concluding their\nmeditation with a smothered laugh at their Superior.\n\nTwo other tokens of his spirit at this time must be illustrated\ntogether. He was a very cool reasoner; it might almost be said that he\nscarcely ever grew hot in dispute, and always gave his adversary's\narguments due consideration. At the same time he was far from being of\na sceptical cast of mind. If an argument approved itself to him, no\nmatter how trifling it might be intrinsically, he felt bound to admit\nit, and adopt it, if practical, unless he could refute it completely.\nAgain, he had a thorough disregard of human respect. \"What will people\nsay?\" or \"How will it look?\" never entered into the motives of his\nactions; and if it did, he would consider himself bound to go straight\nand defy them. What did he care about the opinion of the world? It\nwas, he knew, seldom led by sound reason, and therefore beneath his\nconsideration.\n\nHe found that the Oratorians began to go about in their _soutanes_; he\nhad a talk with Father Faber about it, and forthwith resolved to go\nabout in his habit. Cardinal Wiseman approved of it, if done with\nprudence, and Father Ignatius began at once. In a letter to Mr.\nMonteith he says:--\"I court the honour of following the Oratorians\nclose in this\" (confining ourselves to the work of our vocation), as I\nhave done likewise in beginning to wear the habit.\" He used to relate\nan amusing adventure he once had in a train with his habit on. At a\ncertain station a middle-aged gentleman, with his little daughter,\nwere getting into the carriage which Father Ignatius had to himself,\nas every one shunned his monkish company. The little girl got afraid,\nand would not enter. The gentleman bravely ventured in, to set an\nexample to his child, but all to no avail,--the girl was still afraid.\nAt last the man said out loud, \"Come on, child; the gentleman won't\nbite!\" meaning Father Ignatius. {384} The child summed up courage when\nshe heard the paternal assurance of safety to her skin, and got to a\nseat. She bundled herself up in the corner diagonally opposite the\nmonk, tried to appear as near the invisible as she could, and stared\nwildly on the strange spectacle for a long time. Her father got into\nconversation with Father Ignatius, began deciphering the badge by\nmeans of all the Greek and Latin he could bring to his assistance, and\nbecame quite interested in the genial conversation of the good priest.\nWhen the child heard her father laugh, she began to edge up near the\nstranger, and, before they separated, father and child were convinced\nthat monks were not such frightful things as they appeared at first\nsight. We shall have other adventures to relate about his habit\nfurther on.\n\nAnother peculiar characteristic of his spirit was his great devotion\nto the Blessed Virgin. He set more value on a Hail Mary than any\nconceivable form of prayer. He went so far in this, that he had to be\nreasoned out of its excess afterwards by one of his companions. He did\neverything by Hail Marys; he would convert England by Hail Marys; and\nin the year 1850 he obtained a plenary indulgence for the three Hail\nMarys for the conversion of England. When any one asked him to pray\nfor them, he promised a Hail Mary. This was very praiseworthy in him,\nas we know how hard it is even for some to go heart and soul into the\nCatholic instinct of devotion to the Mother of God. They must have\ntheir qualifications, and their terms, and their conditions, as if,\nforsooth, she ought to be obliged to them for acknowledging her\nprivileges at all. The worst of it is, that Catholics often tone down\ntheir books of devotion and expressions to suit the morbid tastes of\nultra-Protestants, or the fastidiousness of some whitewashed Puseyite.\nIt may be thought prudent to do so; but it is disgraceful, mean, and\ndishonourable, to say the least of it.\n\nThese are the most prominent outlines in Father Ignatius's spirit at\nthe time we are writing about, and if we add to them a great devotion\nto the sacrifice of the mass, we shall have his soul in a fair way\nbefore us. He never missed celebrating, if he possibly could; and\noften he arrived at {385}\n\n11 o'clock in the day at one of our houses, after travelling all\nnight, and would eat nothing until he had first said mass. A month\nbefore he died he travelled all night from Glasgow to London, and said\nmass in Highgate at 11 o'clock. He was jaded, weak in health, but he\nwould not lose one sacrifice: it was of too great a value, and he had\nreceived too many favours through it, to omit it on light grounds.\nThis was a life-long devotion of his, and it is the essential one for\na priest of God.\n\nFrom what has been said, we can form a fair estimate of his character\nas a Passionist. One is so obvious that it requires no mention at all,\nand that was his zeal for the conversion and sanctification of souls.\nSo far did this go, that he seemed led by it blindly and wholly. This\nwas his weak, or, perhaps more properly, his strong point. Go with him\nin that, and you covered a multitude of sins.\n\nAnother essential was his \"thanking God for everything.\" This he\ncarried so far that he became perfectly insensible to insults,\nmockeries, and injuries, and yet he felt them keenly. At one time he\nused to pass late at night by a lonesome lane that led to our last\nhouse at The Hyde. He heard rumours of some evil-disposed wretches\nhaving intended to shoot him. One night he heard a rustling in the\nhedge as he was walking on, and the thought struck him that perhaps an\nassassin was lying in ambush for him. The religious asked him what\nwere his thoughts. \"Well,\" said he, \"I hoped that when the bullet\nstruck me I would have time to say, _'thank God for that'_ before I\ndied.\"\n\nFrom this rough sketch of his spirit it will be seen that he had too\nlittle of the serpent, in the Gospel sense, to make a good Superior.\nHe was too simple and confiding for that; he did not know how to\nsuspect, and any one that knew how to get into his views could do what\nhe pleased. At the same time, all reverenced him as a saint, and every\nday of his religious life increased the estimation in which he was\nheld by his own brethren. This is the more valuable as it is the\nprivate life of most men which lowers them in the eyes of those who\nhave the opportunity of observing them. Father Ignatius tried always\nto make the subject-matter of {386} his conversation as edifying as\npossible; it was withal so beautifully interspersed with amusing\nanecdotes, that it could not fail to interest all. He had a peculiar\ntact for relating stories, and a wonderful memory; he was unrivalled\nin his power of mimicry, and he enjoyed fun with the greatest relish.\nIt was the opinion of every one who knew him intimately, that nothing\ncame under his notice which he could not turn to pointing the argument\nof a sermon or furthering the glory of God. He christianized\neverything; and did so with such grace, that the love of what he\nremodelled was increased for its new aspect.\n\n\n{387}\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nHis Dealings With Protestants And Prayers For Union.\n\n\nThe kindly feelings Father Ignatius always showed for Protestants laid\nhim open to the charge of a want of appreciation for the blessings of\nfaith, or of not hating heresy as saints have hated it. Although his\nwhole life and actions amply refute either conclusion, some of the\nincidents of this period of his life bring out his conduct in this\nrespect in its real character.\n\nHe tried to extend the benefit or plea of invincible ignorance as\nwidely as possible. He laboured and reasoned, with a warmth unusual to\nhim, to remove the notion some Catholics have, that the majority of\nProtestants know they are wrong, but from some unworthy motive will\nnot give up their errors. His proofs of the position he chose to take\nhere were not certainly the most convincing, for his stock argument\nwas to quote himself. It did of course occur to him that its point\ncould be retorted by the fact of his becoming a Catholic for his _bona\nfides_; but he took up the argument then by saying we were therefore\nto hope for the conversion of England. His idea of England's apostasy\nwas mainly this: that the body of the people had been swindled out of\ntheir religion by the machinations of a few crafty, unprincipled\nstatesmen, at the time of the Reformation. A system of misrepresentation\nand false colouring of Catholic doctrines and practices was invented\nand handed down from generation to generation, which impregnated the\nminds of children with the notion that Catholicity and absurdity were\none and the same thing. From this point of view did he look at the\nmillions who groped in the {388} darkness of error, blaspheming the\ndoctrines of Jesus Christ, and imagining they were thereby doing Him a\nservice. He took then the side of pity, which always inclines one to\nthe lessening of faults.\n\nHe lamented nothing more than the loss of faith in England, and he\nthought that a harsh, iron way of dealing with Englishmen would close\ntheir hearts against grace altogether. This led him to use the mildest\nterms he could find,--nay, the most respectful,--in speaking of\nProtestants. He would never call them \"heretics,\" nor their ministers\n\"parsons.\" \"Separated from the Church,\" \"Church of England people,\"\n\"Dissenters,\" \"Clergymen,\" were his usual terms, and he would often\nalso speak of them as \"our separated brethren.\"\n\nThis twofold aspect of his bearing towards Protestants certainly\nproceeded alike from charity and zeal. It was a common remark with\nhim, that we ought not to suppose people bad and evil-disposed unless\nwe are certain of it, neither should we hurt their feelings by\nopprobrious epithets. And if we intend to do them any good we should\nbe the more cautious still as to our thoughts and words. He used to\nsigh when he had done speaking of the state of religion in England,\nbut he would immediately start up as if from a reverie and say, \"Shall\nwe not do something to save our poor countrymen?\" So far was he from\nsympathizing with the mildest form of error, that even in scholastic\nquestions he would always take the safer side. In his love for the\nheretic, therefore, no one could ever find the least sympathy with the\nheresy; or if he called the error a polite name, it was only to gain\nadmission to the heart it was corroding, in order to be allowed to\npluck it out. If we take into account his great love for souls, it\nwill seem wonderful that he did not burst out at times into\nindignation against what destroyed so many; but we must remember that\nsuch a thing as fierce outbursts of any kind were most unsuitable to\nhis spirit. His love would make him try to eliminate from those who\nhad died external to the Church, all the formal heresy he possibly\ncould; and he felt special delight in the fact that the Catholic\nChurch forbids us to judge the {389} damnation of any particular\nindividual as certain. But then let us think for a moment of what he\ndid to uproot heresy. He spoke, he wrote, he preached, he toiled for\nthirty years incessantly almost for this single object. Any one that\nweighs this well will be far from judging that he had the least\nsympathy with error. His kindliness, therefore, for Protestants, and\nhis belief that the vast majority of them were in good faith, so far\nfrom making him sit down at ease and enjoy his own faith, and not\nbestir himself unless Protestants thrust themselves upon him to claim\nadmission into the fold, produced directly the opposite effect. Their\nnot being so bad as was generally imagined, buoyed his hope in their\nspeedy recovery; their being so near the truth, as he charitably\nsupposed, made him strain every nerve to compel them to come across\nthe barrier that separated them from him.\n\nOne of the means he adopted for reuniting Protestants to the Catholic\nChurch laid him open to another serious charge, which was, if\npossible, more groundless than the last. In January, 1850, he began to\ngo about and call upon Protestants of every description--ministers of\nchurch and state nobles and plebeians. His object was to get them all\nto pray for unity. To state plainly his way of action, it was\nthis:--He intended to ask all Protestants \"to pray for unity in the\ntruth, wherever God knows it to be.\" This, he said, was of course to\npray for conversion to Catholicism unknown to themselves; it was\ntaking the enemy by stratagem in his own camp. Objections were made in\ndifferent quarters against the proposition. Some said it was not\nacting fairly and candidly; he then used to qualify it by telling them\nthat he knew very well the truth lay in the Catholic Church alone, and\nso did every Catholic, and that if any Protestant asked him he would\nplainly tell him so. Others then said, Protestants would be all\npraying for proselytes to their own persuasions, for they were all in\ngood faith, and thought themselves in the truth. These and sundry\nother objections were made to this mode of proceeding; it was looked\nupon with suspicion, as savouring too much of communication with\nheretics, and he never got a {390} superior to approve of it, neither\nwas it condemned. So it remained to the last an agitated question,\nwhich none of us would enter into, and which himself adopted with a\nkind of tentative adhesion. There was nothing wrong, certainly, in\ngetting Protestants to pray for unity; but then, \"unity in the truth,\nwhere God knew it to exist,\" was a very indefinite thing to propose to\nthem. Questions might be raised which could only be answered in one\nway. What kind of unity? External or internal, or both? \"Where does\nGod know the truth to exist? Must we all put ourselves in a Cartesian\ndoubt for a starting-point? And so on. The only answer could be--The\nCatholic Church. And might he not as well ask them to pray for that at\nonce? Father Ignatius was not at all obstinate in sticking to this\nproposal as a theory he might reduce to practice, it came up at times\nin his conversation, and was dropped as easily.\n\nThe mistake it led to was, however, rather serious: it was supposed\nthat Father Ignatius looked favourably on, if he did not entirely\ncoincide with, a society called \"The Association for Promoting the\nUnity of Christendom,\" designated by the letters A.P.U.C. With this\nsociety Father Ignatius never had anything to do; he detested its\nprinciples, although he hoped it would do good in its way. He wished\nit to be confined to Protestants. One leading principle of the\nA.P.U.C. was certainly somewhat akin to some of Father Ignatius's\ndreams--conversions _en masse_; but his notions and those of the\nAssociation were widely different. They were for coming over in a\ngreat, respectable body, whose size and standing would deserve to\nreceive great concessions in the way of discipline, as the condition\nof their surrender. Father Ignatius was for an unconditional\nsubmission of each individual, and could not allow any one to wait at\nthe door of the Church for a companion to enter with him. The _en\nmasse_ of Father Ignatius was no more nor less, then, than this: that\nthe people of England should throw off their prejudices and begin in a\nbody to examine candidly the grounds of the Catholic faith. He was\nglad that the Association existed, because it carried out so much of\nhis wishes; but it {391} went too far for him, and in a prohibited\nline, when it asked for Catholic prayers and sacrifices, and for\nCatholic members. He never, therefore, gave his name to it, though\noften and repeatedly solicited to do so. His greatest friend was\npublicly known to be a member of the Association, and much as he loved\nand honoured him, Father Ignatius had no hesitation in saying of him,\n_in hoc non laudo_. Even so late as the year '63 or '64, he received a\nbundle of their official papers, with a private letter from the\nsecretary and a number of the _Union Review_; he was seen to scan them\nover, and then throw them into the fire. About the year '50 or '51,\nwhen he was always going about asking for prayers for unity, after the\nnew idea that struck him, an incident occurred to bear out what is\nhere said. He happened to be speaking with a roomful of Protestant\nclergymen on this very subject. They listened to him very attentively,\nraised objections, had them answered, and finally agreed to the\njustness of his proposals. They agreed, moreover, to kneel down then\nand pray together for unity, and asked Father Ignatius to join them.\nHe refused at once. They pressed him on every side, and said, among\nother things, that he ought to set them this example. He jumped up\nwith indignation, and said, in a manner quite unusual to him, \"I'd\nrather be torn in pieces by forty thousand mad dogs than say a prayer\nwith you.\" He hereupon left the room, and became more cautious for the\nfuture as to how and when he asked them to pray for unity. The reason\nof this abrupt proceeding was the law that forbids all Catholics to\ncommunicate with heretics in divine things. Joint prayer, of course,\nis against this law.\n\nIt is singular that, though he has left behind his thoughts drawn out\nin full upon all the ideas he took up from time to time about the\nconversion of heretics and the sanctification of Catholics, there is\nnothing left among his papers upon this project. We may conclude from\nthis, as well as what has been said above, that while he looked upon\nthe Unionists with kindness, he never adopted their principles; and\nsuch of his notions as seemed congenial to theirs will be {392} found,\non examination, to be totally different. This it was necessary to\nremark, as many very well informed Catholics thought poor Father\nIgnatius came under the censure of the Inquisition, _in re_ A.P.U.C.\nIt was quite a mistake, and he should have endorsed that censure\nhimself, if he lived, and freely as he avoided what drew it down\nbefore he died.\n\n\n{393}\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nFather Ignatius In 1850.\n\n\nThis year was so full of events interesting to Father Ignatius, that\nthere is no leading one round which others may be grouped to head the\nchapter. He expected to be called to Rome towards Easter; he had even\nwritten to the General, and had received letters to that effect. The\nobject of this visit will be best understood from the following\nextract from a letter written at this time, dated from 13, Garnault\nPlace, Clerkenwell, London:--\n\n  \"I am here on a mission with Father Gaudentius, and as we have not\n  yet great press of work, I will write to tell you of an important\n  feature in my prospects for the present year. It is, that I am going\n  to Rome about Easter. About the time I saw you last I wrote to the\n  General, saying that I thought this would be a good step. After that\n  I thought no more about it till the other day a letter came from\n  him, in which he approved the proposal; and so, after a mission\n  which we are to give at St. George's from the first to the fourth\n  Sunday in Lent, I propose starting. I shall be, I expect, about four\n  months absent. I propose begging my way there, through France or\n  Germany, which will make the journey last a month or six weeks;\n  then, after stopping six weeks or two months in Italy, to make\n  acquaintance with our Senior Fathers, and inform myself, as much as\n  possible, of all the ways and spirit of our congregation (of which,\n  of course, now I am very ignorant), I hope to bring back the General\n  with me to make a visitation of his flock.\"\n\nBefore giving the mission in St. George's, he wrote to his sister,\nLady Lyttelton, to tell her of his intended journey to Rome, and of a\nvisit he would pay her before starting. Her {394} ladyship was then in\nWindsor Castle, and we shall give her reply, as it shows the genial\naffection that always existed between them, and at the same time\naccounts for his not having gone to Windsor in his habit, as was often\nsupposed.\n\n  \"_Windsor Castle, Jan. 28th._\n\n  \"My Dear Brother,--I am very much obliged to you for your kindly\n  telling me your plans, and giving me a hope of seeing you before you\n  go to Rome. The period you mention as the probable one for your\n  mission at St. George's, will most likely be the very best for me to\n  see you, as we shall probably remove to London about the middle of\n  February, and remain till after Easter; so I shall look forward with\n  much pleasure to an occasional visit. I am much obliged to you for\n  telling me of the intended change in your dress. I should never have\n  guessed its probability, having erroneously believed it simply\n  illegal; but I find that was a mistake. You will, I hope, not wonder\n  or blame me, if I beg you to visit me at my own little home, No. 38,\n  St. James's Place, and not at the Palace, when you are looking so\n  remarkable. I don't want to figure in a paragraph, and so novel a\n  sight in the Palace might lead to some such catastrophe. A day's\n  notice of your visit will always enable me to meet you, and Caroline\n  and Kitty, and probably others of those that remain to me of my\n  ancient belongings, may thereby sometimes get a glimpse of you,\n  though we should be always able to have our _coze_ in a separate\n  room. I almost wish you would take me under your cowl to Rome. How I\n  should like once more to see the Colosseum (and to learn to spell\n  its name), and the Vatican! but hardly at the cost of a long\n  journey, either.\n\n  \"Fritz and Bessy [Footnote 11] are coming here next Thursday on a\n  two days' visit to the Queen, and when I have seen them I will tell\n  you of their plans. I suppose they will be at Althorp till after\n  Easter. Believe me, my dear brother,\n\n    \"Very affectionately yours,\n      \"S. Lyttelton.\"\n\n    [Footnote 11: Lord and Lady Spencer.]\n\n\n{395}\n\nWhen Father Ignatius went to St. James's Place to pay the visit\narranged for in this letter, he experienced some difficulty in getting\nas far as his sister. The porter who opened the gate did not know him,\nand was, of course, astonished to see such a strange figure demanding\nan interview with his mistress. He would not let him in until he got\nspecial orders from Lady Lyttelton herself. Father Ignatius used to\ncontrast this servant's mode of acting with that of another who\nadmitted him once to Althorp. This last servant did not know him\neither; but seeing he looked tired, he took him into his lodge, got\nhim some bread and cheese and a glass of ale for refreshment.\nBy-and-by the Earl passed, and was highly amused at seeing George\nregale himself with such satisfaction on the servant's fare. The\nservant made some apologies, but they were quite unnecessary, for\nFather Ignatius never forgot his kindness, and used to say that he\nenjoyed the porter's pittance far more than the viands of the \"Big\nHouse,\" as he used to call it.\n\nFather Ignatius was seldom at home up to June, when he went to visit\nour religious in Belgium, who were subject to his jurisdiction; he had\ngiven a mission in Garnault Street, a retreat to our religious in\nAston Hall, a mission in St. George's, Southwark, a retreat to nuns in\nWinchester, a retreat to people in Blackbrook, and a retreat in\nSedgley Park. On his return from Belgium he remained in London, and\npreached in different churches, besides giving a retreat to the people\nin Winchester, and visiting several Protestant ministers, until the\nmission in Maze Pond. This was so badly attended that he used to\npreach in the courts, beating up for an audience. In giving an account\nsometimes of the visits above mentioned, he used to tell about an old\nminister he and another of our fathers once called upon. This\ngentleman suffered from gout, and was consequently rather testy; he\nhad a lay friend staying with him at the time of the two Passionists'\nvisit. He called the fathers idolaters, and insisted, right or wrong,\nthat our Lord used the word \"represent\" when he instituted the Blessed\nSacrament at the Last Supper. It was in vain that all three tried to\nconvince him of his mistake. When, at last, the passage {396} was\npointed out to him, and that he had assured himself, by inspecting\ntitle-page and royal arms, that the Bible was a genuine authorized\nversion, he was so far from giving in that, like the wolf in the\nfable, he immediately indicted them on another plea. This incident\nFather Ignatius used to recount to show how far ignorance hindered the\nremoval of prejudice.\n\nHis Roman plan fell to the ground in the beginning of July, when he\nreceived a letter to announce the coming of Father Eugene as\nVisitor-General to England. Father Ignatius went to meet him to\nTournay, and escorted him to England, where his passing visit became a\nfixed residence to the present day. This happened towards the end of\nJuly. Father Ignatius then gave retreats to the priests in Ushaw\nCollege, to the nuns in Sunderland, and came to London to arrange\nabout our taking St. Wilfrid's from the Oratorians. He went through\nall this before the end of August, and was in Carlow on the 4th of\nSeptember, to give two retreats at the same time to the students of\nthe College and the Presentation nuns.\n\nOn the 8th of September he went to Thurles. The Irish bishops were\nassembled there for the most important synod held since Henry VIII.'s\nproposals were rejected. The synod was held to make canons of\ndiscipline, and laws for the new _status_ the Church had gained in\nIreland. The rough-and-ready ceremonial that had to be used in times\nof persecution was laid aside, after it had done good work in its day,\nand one more systematic was decreed for the administration of the\nsacraments. Here the Irish prelates were assembled, and Father\nIgnatius thought it a great opportunity for opening his mind and\nstating his views to Ireland by letting them known to her hierarchy.\nHis account of the visit to Thurles is thus recorded in his journal:--\n\n  \"Sept. 8.--Mass at 5. Railway to Thurles at 6\u00bd. Put up at the\n  Christian schools. Dined there at 4. Saw the Primate, &c., at the\n  College. Begged of the bishops, &c.\n\n  Tuesday, Sept. 9.--Mass at 6, at the Monk's Altar. Begged on from\n  the bishops. At 10, the great ceremony of concluding the synod, till\n  2. The Primate preached. Dr. Slattery sang {397} mass. I walked in\n  the procession. At 5, dined with the bishops, &c., at the College.\n  Made a speech after dinner on the Crusade.\"\n\nAfter his visit to Thurles, he came back to Carlow and gave a retreat\nto the lay students in their own oratory. He then went off on a\nbegging tour through Kildare, Carlow, and Kilkenny. Whilst in Kilkenny\nhe went to look at the old cathedral (now in Protestant hands); his\n_cicerone_ was a very talkative old woman, who gave him a history, in\nher own style, of the crumbling worthies whose names he deciphered on\nthe different monuments. One account she told with especial gusto: the\nlast moments of an old lady \"of the Butlers.\" This old lady, according\nto the _cicerone's_ account, had once been a Catholic, and on her\ndeath-bed wished to receive the rites of the Church. She was told that\nif she died a Catholic, those to whom her property was willed would be\ndisinherited, and that the property would pass over to others. She\nhesitated some time on hearing this announcement, and after a few\nminutes' reflection expressed her decision as follows, \"Oh, well; it\nis better that one old woman should burn in hell than that the family\nof the Butlers should lose their estate.\" She died shortly after--a\nProtestant. Father Ignatius used to say that he never was more\nsurprised than at the manner of his guide as she concluded the climax\nof her narrative. She seemed to think old Granny Butler's resolution\nshowed the highest grade of heroic virtue and self-sacrifice.\n\nIn Carrick-on-Suir he says: \"Made the best day's begging in my life up\nto this, \u00a350.\" He then went to Tipperary, Cork, visited all the\nconvents and priests, came to Birr, spent an afternoon with Lord Ross\nand his telescope; begs in Limerick, Drogheda, Newry, Dundalk, Ardee,\nCastle-blaney, Carrickmacross, Londonderry, Strabane, Omagh. When he\nwas in Omagh there was a tenant-right meeting, and he went to hear\nGavan Duffy. He begs through Dungannon, Lurgan, Enniskillen,\nBallyshannon, Clogher. He then came to Dublin, from which he paid\nflying visits to a few convents, and to the colleges of Maynooth and\nAll-hallows. He returned to England on the 17th of November; {398}\nand, during his two months' tour in Ireland, he had preached\nseventy-nine sermons, on the conversion of England chiefly.\n\nHe heard of the re-establishment of the hierarchy in England while\ntravelling in Ireland, and one of his first acts, on returning to\nLondon, was to pay his respects to his old friend, the new Cardinal.\nThis year we were put in possession of St. Saviour's Retreat,\nBroadway, which has been the noviciate of the order since. St. Anne's,\nSutton, was also colonized about the same time. Father Ignatius gave a\nmission in Glasgow during this Advent, and brought two young priests\nwith him to train into the work of the missions. One of them was\nFather Bernard, and he gives wonderful accounts of Father Ignatius's\nlabours. He slept but about four hours in the twenty-four, and was all\nthe rest of the time busy either in the confessional or on the\nplatform, with the exception of the time he took to eat a hurried meal\nor two.\n\nIn going through Liverpool on his return from Glasgow, in his habit, a\ncrowd gathered round him to hoot and insult him. In his journal he\nsays: \"I got two blows on the head,\" for which he took good care to\nthank God. The year is concluded by preaching in Dublin, and giving\nthe _renewal_ retreat to the Sisters of Mercy in Birr.\n\nAny one that will glance over this year of his life, and see him\nperpetually moving from place to place, will certainly think he had\nlittle time to himself. It was about this time that he made the\nresolution of never being a moment idle, a resolve he carried out to\nthe last. During this year and the preceding he was occupied in\ntranslating into English Da Bergamo's _Pensieri ed Affetti_. The\ngreater part of this book, which was published by Richardson, under\nthe name of _Thoughts and Affections on the Passion_, was translated\nby Father Ignatius, on railway stations, while waiting for trains, in\nevery place, before or after dinner, in intervals between confessions,\nin all kinds of out-of-the way places; and so careful was he to fill\nup every moment of time that we see noted in his journal his having\ndone some of Da Bergamo in the fore cabin of the steamer that took him\n{399} from Holyhead to Kingstown. He wrote it mostly in pencilling, on\nthe backs of envelopes, scraps of paper of all sizes, shapes, and\nquality; so that it was nearly as difficult to put those sibylline\nleaves in order and copy from them as it was to translate, if not more\nso. Besides this he wrote a number of letters; and his letters were no\nsmall notes with broken sentences, but long lectures on difficulties\nof conscience, written with a care and consideration that is perfectly\nsurprising when one reflects upon his opportunities. He used to say\nthat no one should ever excuse his not answering a letter for want of\ntime: \"If the letter is worth answering we ought to get time for it,\nfor it becomes a kind of duty.\" He certainly had no time to spare or\nthrow away, but he had always enough for any purpose in which charity\nor obedience could claim him. His days were indeed full days, and he\nscarcely ever went to bed until he had shaken himself out of nodding\nasleep over his table three or four times. No one ever heard him say\nthat he was tired and required rest; rest he never had, except on his\nhard bed or in his quiet grave. If any man ever ate his bread in the\nsweat of his brow, it was Father Ignatius of St. Paul, the\never-toiling Passionist.\n\n\n{400}\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nA New Form of \"The Crusade.\"\n\n\nWe find Father Ignatius, at the beginning of the year 1851, begging in\nIreland. It was not his custom to go regularly from house to house; he\npreferred collecting people together, and addressing them, and, if\nthis were not practicable, getting permission from the priests to\nspeak to their flocks on Sundays and festivals. He wanted prayers more\nthan money, and he was delighted that the plea of begging justified\nhis moving about, and gave him a kind of faculty to preach on his\nfavourite topic, \"the conversion of England.\" Oftentimes the spiritual\ninterfered with his temporal interests, as when an Irishman, who was\nabout to give him an alms, refused it as soon as he spoke about\nEngland. Strange enough, Father Ignatius thought England-hating\nIrishmen the very best subjects to practise his art of persuasion on.\nHe thought them true souls, sensitive of their wrongs, and valued them\nfar more than those who lauded England through lack of patriotism.\n\nHe met many adventures during this begging tour in Ireland. In one\nparish, the priest promised to allow him to preach to his congregation\non the Sunday, and collect from them. The priest did not seem to\npossess indifference to earthly things, or generosity either, in a\nvery high degree; for, when Father Ignatius came to his place on\nSaturday, his reverence told him that he intended to claim the\ncollection in the church, whilst Father Ignatius might stand at the\ndoor and beg for himself as the people were going out. Father Ignatius\nthanked God, and was content, only remarking that, with the priest's\npermission, he would prefer {401} to hold his hat under a large tree\nthat grew near the church-door, instead of at the door itself.\n\nHe preached at the last mass, and never said a word about where or\nwhen he was to receive the people's offerings; the collection was made\nby the priest, and a most miserable one it proved to be. Father\nIgnatius held his hat under the tree, and, since the day in\nCarrick-on-Suir, never had such a collection. It was a marvel to him;\nhe could not account for it, and he was the more surprised when he\ncompared notes with the parish priest after all was over. He found out\nthe solution of the mystery that same evening. It seems that, on\nSaturday, he told a respectable lady in the neighbourhood of the\npriest's decision. She, without telling him a word of what she\nintended doing, went home, sent her servant through the village, and\ncollected twelve stalwart active young men; she harangued them on what\nthe priest was about to do, and sent them all off to different parts\nof the parish to tell the people of it, and also of the spot where\nFather Ignatius would receive their offerings. The people had reason\nto think their pastor was a little fond of money, and their\nindignation at his proceeding helped to increase their liberality.\n\nHe begged at this time in Borris O'Kane, Limerick, Ennis, Gort,\nGalway, Loughren, Ballinasloe, Mullingar, and preached 101 sermons\nsince the previous 5th September. His begging tour ends in Dublin,\nabout March, where he begins a new campaign of what he terms \"his\ncrusade.\"\n\nHe preached some controversial lectures in Dublin, dined and talked\nwith Dissenting ministers, wrote a little newspaper controversy, and\nhad a meeting in the Rotundo. This very active kind of work did not\nseem to suit his taste or spirit, and he changed very soon to another\nand a more congenial one--the conversational mode of advancing the\nCatholic cause.\n\nHe visited the leading men both in the Establishment and in the\noffices of State, and the conferences he held with them are so\ninteresting that we shall relate a few of them in his own words. The\nextracts are taken from letters {402} published by him in 1853, in the\n_Catholic Standard_, now _The Weekly Register_:--\n\n\n  _Interview with Lord John Russell._\n\n  One day early in February, 1850, I had been on an expedition down to\n  Westminster. I look back on all my walks during a certain period,\n  that is, while I was constantly wearing my Passionist habit, as\n  _expeditions_. Indeed they were eventful ones in their way. I was\n  returning through Parliament Street; and having an hour to dispose\n  of, as I passed by Downing Street, I thought I would now try, what I\n  had long thought of, to have a conversation with the Premier. I\n  asked, \"Is Lord John Russell at home?\" The messenger [query?] who\n  came to the door looked at my figure with some surprise, then said,\n  \"Yes, sir, but he is engaged at present?\" I said, \"Will you be so\n  good as to say to him that Lord Spencer's brother would wish to\n  speak with him?\" \"Walk in, sir,\" he answered; and to my surprise, I\n  must say, I found myself at once in a waiting-room, and five minutes\n  later was introduced to Lord John. He rose to me, and kindly pointed\n  to a chair. I said, \"Do you remember me, my Lord?\" \"Oh, yes,\" he\n  answered. I then proceeded: \"I hardly know whether what I am now\n  doing is wise or not; but I will explain my reason for asking to see\n  your lordship and you will judge. You are aware, probably, that it\n  is now some twenty years since I became a Catholic. Ever since that\n  time, my whole mind has been bent on leading others to the same\n  faith, and, in short, on the conversion of this country to\n  Catholicity. For this end I have endeavoured, as far as it was\n  possible, to move all Catholics throughout the world to pray for the\n  conversion of England. I have also spoken with as many as I could of\n  the leading men among the clergy of the Church of England and among\n  Dissenting ministers, to move them also to pray that God would bring\n  this country to unity in the truth wherever he sees it to be. I am\n  almost always received agreeably on these occasions; for all seem to\n  agree in what I think cannot be denied, that if there is anything\n  which {403} threatens ruin to the power and prosperity of this\n  country it is our religious divisions.\" His lordship here, without\n  speaking, intimated, as I understood, his assent to this last\n  sentence; but interrupted me by asking more particularly: \"What do\n  you propose to Dissenters?\" \"The same,\" I said, \"as to Anglicans; I\n  conceive this prayer is proper for them all alike.\" ... I proceeded:\n  \"Among Catholics I find myself constantly met by the objection, that\n  if they came forward openly, as I wish them to do, it would offend\n  those in power in England. I answer them, I am convinced it would\n  not; but in order to satisfy others rather than myself, I have at\n  last thought it well to come to the first authority and ask. I will\n  remark to your lordship why I say this. Among all Catholics, I am\n  particularly intent on moving the Catholics of Ireland to undertake\n  this cause. I first went to Ireland for the purpose in 1842. Now I\n  look upon it as certain, that if the Irish had then undertaken, as I\n  wished them, to pray for the conversion of England, and had\n  persevered in that work out of charity, they would not, in 1848,\n  have thought of making pikes against England; and this would have\n  saved our Government some millions of pounds, perhaps. Pikes are\n  well enough in their place, but I consider that charity would not\n  have prompted the making of them on this occasion. Again, I will say\n  that my favourite individual object in Ireland is to enlist in my\n  cause your lordship's illustrious correspondent, Dr. M'Hale; and it\n  is my opinion that it would improve the style of his letters if\n  there were introduced into them some expressions of charity towards\n  England.\" Lord John slightly smiled, and then proceeded with his\n  answer, as follows: \"In answering you, I beg to be understood that I\n  do not speak as a minister; but I will tell what I think as an\n  individual. The entire liberty which exists in this country for\n  every one to think as he pleases, and to speak what he thinks, makes\n  it appear to me difficult to conceive how a reunion of all the\n  different religious opinions could be effected. That is at least a\n  distant prospect. But anything which would tend to a diminution of\n  the spirit of acrimony, and of the disposition of people of opposite\n  opinions to misrepresent one another's views, must {404} do good.\"\n  Then he added, in a very pleasing tone: \"And I will tell you, that I\n  consider the body to which you belong is the one which suffers the\n  most from such misrepresentations.\" I said then: \"After hearing your\n  lordship's answer, given with such kindness, I am quite happy at\n  having come; and I think I may infer from what you have said, that\n  you perfectly approve of my proceedings, for the tendency of them\n  entirely is to remove the misapprehensions which exist, on both\n  sides, of the others principles. I am convinced that Catholics\n  generally have a mistaken idea of what respectable Protestants are;\n  and there is no doubt Protestants are very widely wrong in their\n  opinions of Catholics. I am working to counteract this error on both\n  sides.\"\n\n  To this he did not reply; and as I had gained all that I desired, I\n  rose to take my leave, and said: \"I frequently say to persons with\n  whom I have had conversations like this, what I will now say to your\n  lordship, that I do not promise secrecy concerning them; but I\n  request, as a favour, that if they should ever hear of my making\n  what they consider an improper use of anything that they have said,\n  they would call me to account for it.\" On this sentence, likewise,\n  he made no remark, but added again: \"I repeat once more that I have\n  not spoken as a minister, as I do not think this is a matter with\n  which I have any concern in that character.\" I replied: \"I\n  understand you, my Lord; yet I will say that it appears to me, that\n  I have reasons to have addressed your lordship in your public\n  character.\" His lordship smiled, slightly bowed, and I withdrew.\n\n\n  _Interview with Lord Clarendon._\n\n  I am very happy at finding myself with my pen in hand, to give an\n  account of my interviews with another distinguished member of our\n  Government; at least, as far as what passed bears on the subject of\n  these letters, the enterprise of England's conversion:--I mean Lord\n  Clarendon, while he was Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. His lordship and\n  I were formerly fellow-collegians and friends at Cambridge; {405}\n  but from the year 1819, when I left Trinity College, we never saw\n  each other till November 13, 1850, when I had an audience from him\n  at the Viceregal Lodge in the Phoenix Park, at Dublin. When I had\n  been in Ireland in 1848, the thought had crossed my mind that I\n  should be pleased to have a conversation with him, but I put it away\n  as a strange idea, not worth entertaining. In 1850, I returned to\n  Ireland, and starting from the Synod of Thurles, at the beginning of\n  September, I had what I would call my grand campaign among the Irish\n  people. From the beginning of September to the end of April, I\n  preached 170 sermons to them on the enterprise of the conversion of\n  England, which at that time I used to call the _Crusade for\n  England_; besides a number, past reckoning, of addresses to convents\n  and schools, and private conversations to the same intent. This\n  career was interrupted in the middle of November, when I came for\n  six weeks to England. As I was approaching Dublin to cross the\n  water, my strange idea revived, but its aspect was more inviting.\n  The result of my visit to Lord John Russell had been so encouraging,\n  that I wrote to Lord Clarendon, and asked permission to pay him my\n  respects, as I passed through Dublin. He sent me a very kind answer\n  to the place which I had pointed out, naming an hour on the day\n  named above--half-past one, November 13--at which time I was\n  introduced into his private room at the Lodge. One of his first\n  remarks was that circumstances were greatly changed with us both\n  since our last meeting. Indeed, they were, as any one would have\n  said who had seen him as George Villiers, of St. John's, and me as\n  George Spencer, of Trinity, walking together in our college gowns,\n  at Cambridge, and now should see him in his grand Viceregal Palace,\n  and me before him in my poor Passionist's habit; and is it not\n  something to be looked upon with satisfaction, that we should now\n  have a conversation for an hour and a half, of which, though the\n  matter was something far more weighty than what would very probably\n  have occupied us then, the tone which he gave to it was such, that\n  one might have supposed our familiar acquaintance had never been\n  interrupted? The conversation was throughout very interesting to me;\n  {406} but this does not seem to me the time nor the place to relate\n  what passed, excepting those passages which bore directly upon my\n  present subject.\n\n  I do not remember how, in the course of it, Lord Clarendon was led\n  to say: \"I see in the papers that you have been preaching in several\n  places.\" I answered: \"Yes, I have; and the principal object of my\n  asking for this interview with your lordship, was to tell you the\n  subject of my preaching, and to ask what you think of it. I am\n  preaching to the Irish people a crusade for the conquest of\n  England.\"\n\n  I am not clear whether it was before saying these words, or after,\n  that I related to him the conversation I had had with Lord John\n  Russell in the same way in which it was given in my last letter.\n  However this might be, I perfectly remember the way in which he\n  replied. He appeared at the first moment to be surprised; then fixed\n  upon me one rather searching look; and then deliberately said:\n  \"Taking the view of things which you do, I think you are right.\"\n\n  * * * *\n\n  Lord Clarendon, knowing that I was next day to start for England,\n  concluded by most kindly expressing a wish to see me again, when I\n  should be passing at some future time through Dublin.\n\n  After six weeks I returned to renew my circuit in Ireland, and\n  returning to Dublin about the middle of January, though I had no\n  reason particularly for wishing to speak again with Lord Clarendon,\n  I considered that it was in some way a duty of propriety to ask for\n  an interview, as he had been pleased to request it at the close of\n  the first visit. Accordingly, after some time for reflection, I\n  wrote him a letter to this effect, and he appointed me half-past\n  eleven on Saturday, February 8, 1852. This time it was in Dublin\n  Castle that I saw him, being ushered into his private room through\n  the muskets, bayonets, and other arms--not ancient pieces, for\n  curiosity, as at Alton Towers, but arms of the most modern style,\n  ready for use--with which the hall and great staircase seemed to me\n  as though wainscoted throughout. I apologised soon after entering at\n  taking up so much of his time; and again somewhat later I offered to\n  {407} withdraw, however interesting was the conversation to myself.\n  He answered, \"Oh, no! I am very glad to see you. They will soon tell\n  me of Sir Thomas Reddington being come for business: till then I am\n  free.\" I will now relate only one or two passages of this\n  conversation, as being, I conceive, of peculiar consequence to my\n  present purpose. I was saying something of my continued endeavours\n  to move the Irish to pray for England, and I suppose remarking that\n  this must have a salutary effect on the feelings of the people. He\n  said with an incredulous smile: \"And do you think the Irish pray for\n  England?\" \"I have no doubt whatever,\" I answered, \"that a great many\n  do, but it is as yet nothing to what I desire to bring them to.\"\n  With a still more incredulous look, he added: \"Do you think they\n  pray for England at Maynooth?\" \"Well, my Lord,' I only know that\n  whenever I visit Maynooth the superiors appoint me a time for\n  addressing the students assembled (he looked evidently pleased at\n  hearing this); and will you listen,\" I continued, \"to a sentence of\n  one of my half-hour's addresses to them? I began it without well\n  knowing what I was going to say; but when I had finished I said to\n  myself, I have said one good thing at least which I shall one day\n  turn to account. It was soon after the publication of Lord John\n  Russell's Durham letter. I said to them, 'Will you allow me to offer\n  you one word of advice? You will just now be tempted most probably\n  to say some violent things; especially some violent things of Lord\n  John Russell. Now I would ask you, Do you know Lord John Russell? I\n  suppose one and all would tell me _no_. The advice I was going to\n  offer is that you should not speak evil of what you do not know.'\"\n  Lord Clarendon said: \"Did you say that?\" I said: \"Yes, my lord.\" He\n  added emphatically: \"That _was_ good.\" After I had risen to leave\n  him, I said: \"My Lord, I have been often citing your Excellency,\n  since our first conversation, as one of those who entirely approve\n  of my proceedings.\" \"What do you mean?\" he quickly answered. \"Did I\n  not tell you I would shed the last drop of my blood to stop the\n  progress of your religion?\" \"I perfectly remember that,\" I said;\n  \"what I mean is that you approved of my way of {408} acting,\n  considering what I am.\" \"Oh,\" he replied, \"I understand you. If\n  every one acted as you do, we should have nothing to complain of.\"\n  This conversation lasted from three-quarters of an hour to an hour.\n\n\n  _Interview with Lord Palmerston_.\n\n  I am sometimes reminded of a story I heard of a groom, who had to\n  show off one of his master's horses, which he wished to sell. Among\n  all the other good qualities for which he had praised the animal, as\n  he stood behind him in the stable, being asked by the intended\n  purchaser, \"What do you say of his temper?\" he had just answered,\n  \"Oh, he is as quiet as a lamb,\" when the horse kicked out, struck\n  the poor groom full in the pit of the stomach, and drove the breath\n  out of him. But he must stand to his text, and with wondrous\n  promptness he was just able to utter, \"Ach--playful toad!\" So I\n  will have our poor people hoped for, prayed for, borne with and\n  loved, with all their effigy burnings, with all their meetings to\n  hear Dr. Cumming or Mr. Stowell, with all their awful Popery\n  sermons, and, moreover, with the two or three thumps on the head,\n  and other pieces of genteel treatment which I met with myself, while\n  I walked about in my habit, before the Derby proclamation gave me\n  some time to breathe again.\n\n  After this preface as an apology, if it is one, for my last\n  sentences of last week, and for standing to _my_ text, in spite of\n  all that can be urged, I proceed to another of my narratives, which,\n  if not the most interesting and important in my eyes, is not the\n  least so; and, after which, in reply to such as might mention some\n  of the English rudenesses to us, and say to me, \"What do you say to\n  that?\" I would just say, \"What do _you_ say to this?\"--I mean my\n  interview with Lord Palmerston.\n\n  Through the month of May of the year 1851, I was engaged to preach\n  evening lectures in one of the London chapels, and I had my days to\n  devote in a great measure to the pursuit, so inconceivably\n  interesting to me, of conversations with leading people on my great\n  topic. I was at {409} that time greatly debilitated, and could walk\n  but very little, and to relieve me, therefore, as well as to enable\n  me to make the most of my time, a generous friend, who was\n  interested in my proceedings, furnished me with means to go from\n  house to house in a cab. One of these bright forenoons, I turned\n  into Carlton Gardens, and asked to see Lord Palmerston. I was not an\n  entire stranger to him, any more than to the other two noble persons\n  of whom I have already written. It will not be foreign to my purpose\n  to relate how my acquaintance with his lordship had been formed. May\n  I venture to call it a friendship? It was at the close of a long run\n  with Lord Derby's stag-hounds; I mean the grandfather of the present\n  earl, I think in 1821; we finished, I think, twenty-four miles from\n  London, and I was making up my mind for a long, tedious ride home on\n  my tired horse (for I was not up to having second horses and grooms\n  in my suite on those occasions), when Lord Palmerston, who was\n  likewise in at, not the death, but the taking (I forget the proper\n  sporting term) of the stag, understanding my case, and knowing me by\n  sight, though I think till then we had never spoken, gave my horse\n  in charge to his groom, and took me home with himself in a\n  post-chaise. For the short remaining time of my being known as a\n  young man about town, as we met at one party or another, Lord\n  Palmerston continued to accost me with a kind word, to which I had\n  good reason, it will be allowed, to respond in the best manner I\n  knew how. At the close of the London season of 1822 I made my bow,\n  and withdrew from that stage to prepare for taking orders, and,\n  except an interview of a few minutes in 1834, we had never met till\n  I appeared before the now far-famed and, by many, dreaded Foreign\n  Secretary, with my Passionist habit and sandalled feet for a private\n  audience. Like what Lord Clarendon said in the Park Lodge, Dublin, I\n  might have said here, \"Great changes, my lord, since we first spoke\n  together!\" On this occasion, however, no time was spent in mere\n  conversation. I had called, as I have said, in the forenoon. His\n  lordship had sent me a message as being busy, requesting me to call\n  again at two o'clock. On entering his private room, I found {410}\n  him engaged in looking over what seemed official papers, which he\n  had upon his knee, while we spoke, though without the least sign of\n  impatience or wish to get rid of me; but I saw that what became me\n  was to enter on business at once without waste of time or words. I\n  do not remember all the words which I used in this interview so well\n  as what I said to Lord John Russell and Lord Clarendon. The position\n  was not now so new and striking to me. I think I began without any\n  kind of apology; for his lordship's looks gave me no feeling that\n  any was needful or expected. I said, \"that in coming to speak to his\n  lordship on this subject, I had not so much in view to ascertain\n  more and more that there was no danger of what I proposed causing\n  offence to our Government, as I thought what I had heard from others\n  was sufficient proof of this; but I wished to put as many of our\n  public men as I could meet with in possession of all my intentions\n  and proceedings, in order that if, at last, I succeeded, as I hoped,\n  in moving the Catholics to be interested about them, and these\n  matters came before the public, they might know from myself in\n  person what I really intended, and might be enabled, if they thought\n  well, to do me justice.\" This was the substance of what I said to\n  him. Having thus concluded, I awaited his answer, which was about as\n  follows:--\"As you wish to know what I think of your doings, I must\n  say I do not by any means agree with you in considering it a\n  desirable result that this country should again be brought under\n  subjection to Rome. I do not profess to take my view from the\n  elevated and sublime ground on which you place yourself; I mean, I\n  speak not with reference to religious interests, but to political;\n  and as a politician, when we consider the way in which the Pope's\n  government is opposed to the progress of liberty, and liberal\n  institutions, I cannot say that I wish to see England again under\n  such influence.\" Thus far, I do not mean to say, that what I heard\n  was anything agreeable to me. Neither the matter nor the tone were\n  agreeable to me. There was something sarcastic in his tone. And does\n  that suit my purpose? it may be asked. I answer, \"It does very\n  well.\" Could it be expected that he would speak very agreeably and\n  favourably {411} of the end I told him I was aiming at? If he had,\n  that would, I conceive, have just thrown a doubt on the sincerity of\n  what he said immediately after, in a tone simply and perfectly\n  agreeable, on the effect likely to result immediately from what I\n  was doing: and this was: \"But as to what you are doing, as it must\n  tend to conciliate Catholic powers towards England, what have I to\n  say, but that it is excellent?\" or some such word expressing full\n  and cordial approbation. After this, he went on with some remarks on\n  the establishment of the Hierarchy, which, of course, were in\n  accordance with what he had, I think, been saying a few days\n  previously in Parliament, complaining of it as offensive and\n  injurious; but on this part of the conversation I need not dwell, as\n  it had no bearing on the subject which I had proposed to him. With\n  regard to that, my impression on leaving him was this: that he had\n  listened with attention to what I had said, had at once perfectly\n  understood me, had answered me so as to make me perfectly understand\n  him on the subject simply and openly, and that what he had said was\n  entirely satisfactory to me. I could wish for nothing more; except,\n  of course, what St. Paul wished for in the presence of Festus and\n  Agrippa. I then rose: so did he; then shook hands with me, and most\n  kindly thanked me for having renewed our old acquaintance. To the\n  account of this conversation with Lord Palmerston, I will add, that\n  I asked, in the same bright month of May, for an interview with Lord\n  Derby. He requested I would rather explain myself in writing: which\n  I did; and received in answer from him a most condescending and kind\n  letter, in which, while he asserted his own steadfast adherence to\n  the Church of England, he declared his opinion that no one could\n  reasonably find fault with me for exerting myself as I did to\n  advance what I believed to be the truth.\n\nBesides these interviews just recorded in his own words, he had\nseveral others with minor celebrities. He met some Protestant bishops;\namong the rest, Dr. Blomfield, whom he tried to move to praying for\nunity. Dr. Blomfield promised. Some of the bishops refuse to see him,\nand {412} others are \"out\" when he calls. He had an interview with Dr.\nCumming, and the doctor's account of it did not eventually serve to\nraise that gentleman in the estimation of honourable or sensible\npeople. He records in his journal being sent away ignominiously by\nBaptist and Methodist ministers, and, after one of these rebuffs, on\nMay 24, 1851, he got so fearful a mobbing, when coming along the\nCharter House in London, that he was nearly killed. Had not some good\nshopkeeper opened his door for him, and helped him to a cab by a back\npassage, he believed he would certainly have fallen a victim to the\nfury of the crowd.\n\nThe day after this adventure, he assisted in Warwick-street at the\nordination of his Grace the present Archbishop of Westminster, as\nsub-deacon.\n\nHe is a few months on the Continent again in this year. He preaches in\nFrench through Lille, Li\u00e8ge, Maestricht, Aix-la-Chapelle, always upon\n\"the crusade.\" Before arriving in Cologne he had his address\ntranslated into German, in order to be able to speak to the Prussian\nchildren and people upon his favourite theme. As he was walking\nthrough Cologne one day, he accidentally met his brother, Lord\nSpencer. Lord Spencer wondered at the figure approaching him, and\nthought he recognized the features. At length he exclaimed, \"Hilloa,\nGeorge, what are you doing here?\" \"Begging,\" replied Father Ignatius.\nThose who knew them were much gratified at seeing the earl and the\nmonk having a little friendly chat about old schoolboy days. Both\nseemed a little embarrassed and surprised at first, but after a minute\nor two they were quite at home with each other.\n\nHe prepared a petition for the King of Prussia, who was visiting\nCologne, requesting an audience; but, after waiting patiently a few\ndays, he writes in the journal: \"The King is come and gone, but no\nnotice of me. I must be content with _Rex regum_.\" He received a\nletter from Father Eugene a day or two before this, summoning him home\nto England for our Provincial Chapter, and his tour terminates on the\n21st August.\n\n\n{413}\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nVisit To Home And \"The Association Of Prayers.\"\n\n\nAt the Provincial Chapter, Father Ignatius was chosen Rector of St.\nJoseph's Retreat, The Hyde. It was also arranged that before\nproceeding further with his projects and schemes for prayers and\nunity, he should submit them to the Roman _Curia_. He accordingly\nstarts for Rome on September 4, and arrives at the Retreat of SS. John\nand Paul on the 13th. We shall let himself relate the events and\nsuccess of this expedition.\n\n  \"I went on then, taking occasions as they were offered me to move\n  Catholics to interest themselves in it till September, 1851, when I\n  went to Rome. I had other reasons for going; but it might well be\n  expected that what mainly interested me was to recommend the cause\n  of England's conversion in the centre of Catholicity, and to obtain\n  from the Holy See sanction and authority for pursuing this end as I\n  had been doing before, or in whatever way would be deemed\n  preferable. I was four months and a half at Rome, with the\n  interruption of a fortnight, during which I was engaged on a mission\n  in the country with some of our Fathers. My affair had to be\n  transacted, as may be supposed, chiefly at the Propaganda, where the\n  affairs of all Catholic missions are managed and directed, much in\n  the way that our Board of Admiralty directs all the naval operations\n  of this country, but under entire dependence on his Holiness and\n  obedience to him--the secretary of the Propaganda, Monsignor\n  Barnab\u00f2, having regularly once a week, that is, every Sunday\n  evening, an audience of the Pope, to make him reports, and to\n  receive his orders. For the first six weeks or two months I felt my\n  footing at the Propaganda more or less {414} doubtful and\n  precarious. I did not gain much attention. This was mortifying; but\n  I see, and I saw it then, to be right. The Propaganda is a place\n  where all Catholic schemers and projectors in matters of religion\n  try to get a hearing--as our Admiralty is besieged, I suppose, by\n  all who think they have an important proposal to make for naval\n  enterprise or improvement. They must be kept at arm's length for a\n  time, till it is judged whether their ideas are worth attending to.\n  It was on the 1st of November that it happened that I dined at the\n  College of Propaganda, and sat next to Monsignor Barnab\u00f2, who made\n  me a remark about in these words: 'Surely if you can convert\n  England, we should gain half the world--or all the world,' I forget\n  which. I answered, 'Well, Monsignor, and why not try?' Nothing more\n  was said then; but it seemed to me as if this was the turning-point\n  of my fortunes at Rome. Certain it is, that from that time Monsignor\n  Barnab\u00f2, in the midst of all his pressing affairs, was invariably\n  ready to listen to me at the office or at his own house, read\n  through all my long memorials, spoke for me to the Pope whenever I\n  asked him, and gained me what I asked on this matter, had my papers\n  printed free of cost at the press of the Propaganda, &c. It had been\n  told me previously by one of the minutanti (under secretaries) of\n  the Propaganda, Monsignor Vespasiani, that my proposals would be\n  looked upon more favourably, if England were not mentioned as the\n  only object of interest. He adverted especially with great feeling\n  to the case of the Greeks, of whom he spoke as possessing genius and\n  capacity for such great things, if they were only reunited to the\n  Church. At his suggestion I drew up, in concert with one of our\n  Fathers, a paper of proposals for an Association for the Conversion\n  of all separated from the Church, giving reasons, however, as I do\n  in the little paper of admission to our Association, why we should\n  direct our immediate aim at the recovery of those nations which have\n  been separated from the Church by heresy or schism, and why, among\n  these, England should still be regarded as the most important and\n  leading object. This document was read by Mgr. Barnab\u00f2, who ordered\n  5,000 copies to be printed by the press of the {415}\n  Propaganda--rather, he told me, to order as many as I wished, as\n  well as of another shorter paper containing an invitation to prayer\n  and good works for the conversion of all separated from the Church,\n  but especially of England. This shorter one was prepared at the\n  express desire of the Cardinal-Vicar of Rome, and distributed by his\n  order through all the religious houses of the city. To pass over\n  other details, it was on the 26th of November that I received a\n  letter of recommendation, addressed by the Cardinal-Prefect of\n  Propaganda to all Bishops, Vicars-Apostolic, and Superiors of\n  Missions in the world, desiring them to receive me favourably and to\n  assist me in my designs to the utmost of their power. The words in\n  Latin at this part of the letter are the following:--'... Proindeque\n  illum sacrae congregationis testimonialibus hisce literis instructum\n  esse volumus, ut omnes Episcopi, Vicarii Apostolici, et Missionum\n  Superiores benigne illum excipere, ac pro viribus piissimis ejusdem\n  votis favere haud omittant.' As I have not this letter at hand while\n  writing, I quote this part from memory. The former part, of which I\n  have not the words by heart, expresses why this recommendation was\n  to be given me; namely, because my zeal for promoting the Catholic\n  faith, especially among my people of England, was highly to be\n  commended. Now, if the Propaganda should have ever heard anything\n  true about how I carried on my ordinary duties in England, they\n  could only have heard that I had not incurred suspension, though I\n  might have deserved it; and that, in comparison with my brother\n  priests in our great towns, for instance, what I had done for\n  religion must be put down as next to nothing. The only thing on\n  which they could ever have heard me spoken about as remarkable must\n  have been my exertions, which, against my wishes, I must certainly\n  concede to have been _singularly_ active and persevering in calling\n  people's attention to the object of the _conversion of England_ and\n  to prayers for it.\n\n  \"I was surprised at receiving this letter; but I was not satisfied\n  with it: it sharpened my appetite to get more. I returned to the\n  Palace of the Propaganda to give thanks for it, and then asked for a\n  special letter to the Prelates of {416} Ireland. I do not here enter\n  into details about this: I intend, if permitted, explaining all\n  which regards this subject in some letters addressed especially to\n  the Irish people, in the _Tablet_. I mention it here only to quote\n  from this second letter the words in which is explained more\n  particularly the idea which was formed at the Propaganda of the\n  object which they were recommending. They call it 'Opus quod\n  Reverendus Pater Ignatius promovere satagit, ut nempe Catholici pro\n  Acatholicorum, praesertim Angliae, conversione veluti agmine facto,\n  ferventiori jugiter ratione preces fundant ....' which I thus\n  translate: 'The object which the Rev. Father Ignatius is engaged in\n  promoting, namely, that Catholics should, as it were, form\n  themselves into an army set in array, and with continually\n  increasing fervour pour forth prayers for the conversion of\n  non-Catholics, but especially of England.\" Now, I do not know how\n  these documents may strike others; but it seems to me that if, after\n  having taken a journey to Rome on purpose to plead my cause there,\n  and after having received letters like these in answer to my\n  appeals, I was just now to relax in my zeal to promote prayers and\n  good works for the conversion of Protestants, but especially of\n  England, this would be not falling into the views of the Holy See,\n  as some seem to think it would, but rather showing indifference and\n  almost contempt for them, and repaying with ingratitude the great\n  favours which I have received. I must reserve to another letter some\n  account of my interviews with his Holiness in person.\n\n    \"I am, Sir, your faithful servant in Jesus Christ,\n      \"Ignatius Of St. Paul, Passionist.\"\n\n\nHere is the account of the audiences he had with the Pope on the\nsubject of prayers for the conversion of England. It is taken from his\nletters to the _Catholic Standard_:--\n\n  Audiences With Pope Pius IX.\n\n  I beg to give an account of what passed upon the subject of the\n  conversion of England in the audiences I was allowed {417} by the\n  Holy Father. They were three. The first was on September 16, 1851,\n  three days after my arrival in Rome; the second, December 23; the\n  third, January 30, 1852, the day before I left Rome. It was on my\n  return home in the evening after that last audience that I met Mgr.\n  Vespasiani, the prelate whom I have before named as one of the\n  Minutanti of the Propaganda, the first person in office at Rome who\n  gave full and attentive consideration to my proposals. This was on\n  the 14th of October, 1851. Full of satisfaction as I was, I\n  expressed to him anew my gratitude for that favour, adding that now\n  I was leaving Rome, I felt as if I had nothing more to ask. All was\n  gained. Such, indeed, were my feelings then. He kindly accepted my\n  acknowledgments, and seemed to sympathize in my satisfaction, but\n  looked incredulous as to my having nothing more to ask, and with a\n  smile, said something to this effect, \"You will want plenty more;\n  and, when you desire, you will command our services.\" I suppose he\n  was right. My feeling was then, and I conceive it was well grounded,\n  that, as far as regarded the mind of his Holiness, I had gained all,\n  on the subject which most engaged me, and which I am now pursuing;\n  and I felt as if in having reached this point all was done. So, I\n  trust, it will prove in time; but I see plainly enough there is work\n  to be done before the mind of the Holy Father will be carried out;\n  others must be moved to correspond with it. I must explain myself by\n  stating facts. In my first two audiences, I think I may say that the\n  principle was approved by his Holiness, that Catholics might be\n  moved all through the world to engage in the enterprise of\n  converting England; but that he must not be represented as caring\n  for England exclusively, as he was father to all. There was no\n  objection here expressed to my being specially interested for my own\n  country. On the contrary, the Pope agreed to, and approved of, my\n  continuing to urge the Roman people to join in this cause, as well\n  as pursuing the same object in Austria, whither I told him I was\n  going, and elsewhere. In my second audience I said to him: \"Holy\n  Father, may I repeat truly here what I am saying outside? I am\n  openly stirring the people of Rome to a third conquest of England.\n  {418} Rome conquered England once, under Julius Caesar, by the\n  material sword. Rome conquered England a second time, more\n  gloriously, under St. Gregory I., by the Word of God. I am calling\n  on Rome to undertake this conquest again, under Pius IX., when it\n  will be a vastly more important one than heretofore, and by means\n  more glorious and more divine, because referring more purely the\n  glory to God, being chiefly holy prayer.\" The Pope did not speak in\n  answer to this appeal; but, if I rightly judged, his manner and\n  looks expressed his acceptance and approval of the idea better than\n  words could have done. However, though I might say I had succeeded\n  as well as I could have expected in these first two audiences, the\n  second of which I looked upon as final, as in it I had taken my\n  leave of his Holiness, there was yet something wanting. I was\n  preparing to leave Rome not quite satisfied, though I knew not how\n  to better my position. I will relate how the happy conclusion was\n  brought round. My departure was unexpectedly delayed in order that I\n  might assist at a mission to be given by our fathers, in the town of\n  Marino, on the Alban mountains, which was in the diocese of the\n  Cardinal-Vicar, at whose request the mission was given. I went to\n  the mission, not so much to work, as to see, and hear, and learn for\n  myself; but the crowd of penitents was such, that during the last\n  week of it I gave myself entirely to the confessions; and having no\n  part in the preaching, I never did such a week's work at confessions\n  as that. I returned to Rome alone on January 18, to prepare for my\n  departure, leaving the other Fathers to begin a second mission at\n  Albano; and it struck me my week's work for the Cardinal-Vicar need\n  not be altogether its own reward. I visited him the next day, as to\n  make a report of the mission, which was highly satisfactory. I then\n  said, \"I have done a heavy week's work for your Eminence, and I come\n  to claim _il mio stipendio_ (my pay).\" \"And what,\" said he, \"is\n  that?\" \"A few minutes' patience,\" I replied, \"to hear me again on\n  the cause of England. I want Rome to be effectually moved.\" \"But,\"\n  said he again, \"what can we do? I have distributed your papers. I\n  will recommend {419} it again; what more do you want? Perhaps the\n  Pope could suggest something; go to him again.\" I answered, \"I have\n  had my final audience, and received his last blessing. Can I go\n  again?\" \"Oh, yes. Go; you may use my name.\" I went straight to the\n  Vatican, and Monsignor Talbot placed me, according to custom, in a\n  saloon, through which the Pope was to pass at three o'clock, to take\n  his daily drive. I told his Holiness what had brought me again\n  before him. I had received recommendations to all the world, but I\n  was particularly intent on moving Rome. \"Surely,\" he said, \"that is\n  the most important place. Write me a memorial, and we will consult\n  over it.\" I lost no time in doing so. In it I dwelt on two objects;\n  first, I entreated the Holy Father to take such measures as he might\n  in his wisdom think fit, to move all Christendom to undertake the\n  recovery of the nations which had been lost to the Church, and\n  specially England. And with regard to Rome, I stated the case thus.\n  I had received from the congregations through which his Holiness\n  intimates his pleasure to the whole Church, an earnest\n  recommendation to all Bishops to support me to the utmost of their\n  power in my enterprise. Was it to be conceived, I asked, that the\n  Bishop of the first See was alone excluded from this recommendation?\n  Surely not; and therefore in the name of his Holiness, as head of\n  the Universal Church, I appealed to his Holiness as Bishop of Rome,\n  and entreated that he would give an example to all other Bishops,\n  how a mandate of the Holy See ought to be obeyed. It was not for me\n  to offer directions how this should be done; but if I were to make a\n  suggestion, I would ask that a Prelate should be named, with an\n  authority to engage the help of other zealous ecclesiastics, and\n  with them to instruct the people of Rome in the importance and\n  beauty of the work, and to engage them in it with persevering zeal.\n  I took this memorial to the Cardinal-Vicar, who read through the\n  latter part with me, and said, with an air of satisfaction, \"_That\n  will do; that will do very well_\"--promising to present it to the\n  Pope. I begged him to say besides, that the Prelate I had in my mind\n  was Monsignor Talbot. This was on January 23. On the 26th, Monsignor\n  {420} Barnab\u00f2 told me that all had been favourably received. I\n  thought I had nothing to do but to arrange with Monsignor Talbot\n  what he might do, and for this purpose I went on the 30th of January\n  to see him, accompanied by one of our Fathers. I had bid him\n  farewell, when my companion said, \"May we see the Pope?\" I was\n  rather annoyed at this: the sight of the Pope intended was merely to\n  be once more placed in his way as he would pass one of the saloons:\n  and I felt it would be unreasonable and intrusive for me to be seen\n  there again; but I thought it would be selfish to disappoint my\n  companion, who had sacrificed so much of his time to gratify me, and\n  I said nothing. We were, therefore, taken into the saloon, as it was\n  just the time for the Pope's drive. There, however, we waited one\n  quarter, two quarters, three quarters of an hour. I concluded, what\n  was the case, that the Pope was not going out, and expected\n  presently to be told to go away. Instead of this Monsignor Talbot\n  came and beckoned us into the Pope's private room, where he was\n  sitting in the window recess perfectly at his ease, and received us\n  with these words addressed to me:--\"Well, Father Ignatius, we have\n  done something now.\" \"Indeed, Holy Father,\" said I, \"this is true. I\n  see this work now in the way to become the most favoured of all,\n  entrusted, as it is, to a Prelate who has his time so disposed that\n  one week he is free to work, and the other he returns to attendance\n  on your Holiness to make his reports, and receive new instructions.\"\n  \"Not only so,\" replied the Pope, \"there are four of them. He has but\n  one week entirely engaged with me; besides the one out of four\n  wholly free, he has but two or three hours every day on duty in the\n  other two. But remember, I will not have England alone thought of.\"\n  \"Holy Father,\" I said, \"this alteration has been made. The\n  undertaking is for all separated nations; England being proposed\n  only as the most important point of attack, on several accounts. I\n  beg, however, to ask that the term heretics may not be used as the\n  general designation of those we pray for. I do not confess to wilful\n  heresy before my conversion. I do not confess for this sin for my\n  countrymen at large.\" \"Ah! what say you?\" answered the Pope; then\n  {421} he reflected for a moment and graciously bowed. In accordance\n  with this request, in my letter from the Propaganda the term is not\n  _haereticorum_, but _acatholicorum praesertim Angliae_. I went on:\n  \"Holy Father, I ask one more favour. Cardinal Fornari has agreed, if\n  he is named by your Holiness, to accept the charge of Protector to\n  this work.\" \"What need of this?\" answered the Pope; \"I have desired\n  the Cardinal-Vicar to recommend the work to Rome, and Cardinal\n  Fornari is a Roman. Is that not enough?\" \"Holy Father,\" I replied,\n  \"what is requested is, that he should be empowered to act in it as\n  Cardinal.\" After another pause his Holiness again graciously bowed\n  and said: \"Well, be it so.\" Thus the discourse on this subject\n  terminated: and, if I have intelligibly explained myself, will it\n  not be allowed that I had reason to go home satisfied, in the\n  reflection that the work of the conversion of Protestants, but\n  chiefly England, was now erected--as far as regarded the part which\n  the holy Father had to take in it--into what may be almost called a\n  congregation in the Holy City, to be composed of prelates and\n  ecclesiastics, of whom the first active member was among his\n  Holiness's domestic attendants; and the Cardinal Protector was one\n  of the most distinguished of the Sacred College, who in his first\n  conversation with me declared his most lively interest in England,\n  as having himself, as Professor in the Roman Seminary, directed the\n  studies in Theology of Cardinal Wiseman, and four others, now\n  Bishops in England, besides two deceased. I must close this long\n  letter with one more fact, which came to my knowledge, bringing home\n  to me the consoling conviction, how deeply the heart of our Holy\n  Father is interested in the great work. When I was in Paris, this\n  cause of England was ardently taken up by a gentleman noted for his\n  Catholic zeal, a distinguished merchant in Havre. On my leaving\n  Paris he begged me to give him a letter of credentials, that, in his\n  mercantile travels, he might in my name interest Bishops and other\n  leading personages in our favour. In November last he enclosed me a\n  letter he had received from the Vicar-General of Nantes, to whom he\n  had applied to recommend this object to his Bishop. It was in these\n  {422} terms: \"I will gladly perform your commission, and I have no\n  doubt his Lordship will comply with your wish; the more so that,\n  returning from Rome a few days back, I have brought to him a message\n  to the same effect from his Holiness. In my first audience the Pope\n  said to me: 'Tell the Bishop of Nantes, from me, that I desire he\n  will pray, and cause others to pray, a great deal for England. The\n  position of the Church in that kingdom interests me deeply; I am\n  always thinking of it.' In my second audience the Holy Father\n  repeated to me the same words, and in a tone of feeling such as I\n  can never forget. I am convinced this subject occupies his mind\n  continually.\" Is it, now, to be supposed that the Holy Father is\n  averse to English and Irish Catholics praying especially for\n  England, and praying much for it? Is it not, on the contrary, to be\n  inferred from these statements, and those of my last two letters,\n  that it would console his heart to see them devotedly engaged in the\n  work? I think this is the conclusion to which we shall all arrive,\n  and that this happy result may in due time--and why not soon?--be\n  abundantly realized.\n\nHe says in another letter:--\n\n  \"I begin with repeating again the words of St. Jerome to Pope\n  Damasus: 'He who gathereth not with thee scattereth,' and I renew my\n  declaration that if I thought that by exerting myself to move the\n  Catholics of England and Ireland, and, in general, of all the world,\n  to the enterprise of gaining England, my country, back to the faith\n  of our fathers, I was not working in accordance with the mind of his\n  Holiness, I should not dare to proceed. Will my dear Catholic\n  brethren meet me with the assurance that if it appears by facts that\n  this enterprise is according to his mind, they will heartily devote\n  themselves to the cause and help us?\n\n  \"It seems to me still, as it always did, impossible to conceive how\n  these efforts, carried on as they are proposed to be, in perfect\n  accordance with devoted loyalty to the State, and in a spirit of\n  ardent charity towards our fellow-countrymen, should not be\n  gratifying to the Church of God and to its Head. Many times have I\n  repeated in sermons to the Irish people during the days of the\n  troubles of his Holiness: {423} 'You have joined with noble\n  generosity in assisting the Holy Father by subscriptions of money,\n  you have entered fervently into prayer for him, will you not do one\n  thing more to console him? Let him hear that you are determined that\n  my country, with its great resources and power, shall once more be\n  his.' This was, I think, a reasonable natural suggestion.\n\n  \"It was, accordingly, a surprise to me, and at the same time a pain,\n  when I was told by one, about the beginning of the year 1851, that\n  his Holiness was become almost averse to our efforts in behalf of\n  England; as on being applied to for some new indulgence for certain\n  prayers for England, he would not grant the petition unless Italy\n  was comprehended in the intention of the prayers. Another said\n  positively that the Pope would give no more indulgences for prayers\n  for England. These things were said, as so many more things have\n  been said, apparently in a half-joking tone, to mortify me in what\n  is known to be a tender point. \"Well, everything may turn to account\n  for good, if we pay attention. These remarks helped to stimulate me\n  to ascertain perfectly what the truth of the case is, and they now\n  give me occasion to explain publicly some of the facts on which the\n  matter has to be judged.\n\n  \"In May, 1850, a student of the English College at Rome, just\n  ordained, went to receive the Pope's blessing before his return to\n  England. He presented a crucifix to his Holiness, and begged for an\n  indulgence of 300 days for whoever kissed this crucifix, and said a\n  Hail Mary for the conversion of England. The Pope sat down and wrote\n  with his own hand at the foot of the petition, that he granted 300\n  days' indulgence for those who should offer a devout prayer, as for\n  instance a Hail Mary, for the conversion of England. When this was\n  reported to me, as there appeared some kind of ambiguity in one\n  expression of the Pope's writing, I wrote to Monsignor Talbot,\n  begging that he would ascertain from his Holiness whether we were\n  right in interpreting the sentence as granting the indulgence\n  generally without any reference to the crucifix. The answer was,\n  'Yes.' Evidently then, at this time, the Pope was disposed to grant\n  more in favour of England than he was asked. How are {424} we to\n  account for the seeming alteration in his dispositions? One way is\n  to suppose that the Pope had ceased to wish prayers to be made for\n  England. Monsignor Talbot, when I saw him at Rome in September,\n  1851, gave me another reason. 'The Pope,' said he, 'is determined he\n  will give no more indulgences for England. People seem not to care\n  for them. No account is made of them. Let them first show they value\n  what they have.' No authority, on such a point, could be preferable\n  to that of Monsignor Talbot, who spends his life in personal\n  attendance on his Holiness; and according to him, the Pope did, in a\n  tone of some displeasure, refuse one or two such requests, the\n  displeasure was not because people prayed too much for England, but\n  because they did not pray enough, and on this account, did not\n  deserve any more encouragement. This view I maintain with the more\n  confidence, inasmuch as after that displeasure had been expressed, a\n  petition was made on March 9, 1851, by some English ladies in Rome\n  for a plenary indulgence to be gained once a month by those who\n  should daily pray for the conversion of England: it was granted as\n  stated in our admission papers. I infer from this, that if only the\n  Holy Father perceived that the Catholics of England were really in\n  earnest in the cause, there would be no bounds to the liberality\n  with which he would encourage them; but no one likes to go on giving\n  favours to persons who seem not to value them; and he who has the\n  dispensing of the favours of Almighty God from the treasuries of the\n  Church, must not consent to their being undervalued.\n\n  \"But now, it will be asked, what encouragement did I myself receive\n  from his Holiness during the four months and a half that I spent in\n  Rome, as a kind of representative of this cause of the conversion of\n  England? I need not say that, in going to Rome, I was desirous to\n  move all hearts there to an enthusiastic devotion to this\n  enterprise, as I had endeavoured to do in Ireland, in France, in\n  Belgium, and Germany. I fain would not have lost an occasion of\n  preaching in churches, addressing religious communities, the\n  children of schools, wherever I could find them assembled. I did not\n  expect, however, to be able at once to run such a career in {425}\n  Rome, as in ordinary towns, and I was greatly satisfied with what\n  was allowed me. Whatever difficulty or check I might have met with,\n  it came not from his Holiness. The proper authority to apply to in\n  this case was the Cardinal-Vicar; that is, he who administers the\n  very diocese of Rome as the Pope's Vicar-General. He at once agreed\n  to my visiting convents and schools, and exhorting them to the great\n  work; but for preaching in churches, there must be, he said, express\n  sanction from the Pope. The Holy Father was consequently consulted\n  by Monsignor Talbot, and answered that he had no objection, but left\n  it to me to make arrangements with the rectors of the churches. The\n  number of monasteries and schools in which I made my allocutions on\n  the conversion of England, is past my remembrance. Almost day by\n  day, for about two months of my time, this was my leading pursuit. I\n  wish it to be clearly understood that all this time I spoke all that\n  was in my mind with as complete freedom from reserve as I am known\n  to exercise here. To the authorities in Rome, who are not wanting in\n  vigilance, all must have been known; and one word from them of\n  objection to the subject, or to my manner of treating it, spoken to\n  my superiors, would have at once stopped me. The number of churches\n  in which I spoke was not so great. I used generally to ask leave\n  myself to address convents and schools. I saw that it would not be\n  becoming to offer myself thus to speak in churches at Rome; but\n  among others I may mention particularly, that I preached by\n  invitation, in English, in French, and in Italian, in those of the\n  large and frequented churches S. Andrea della Valle, S. Luigi de'\n  Francesi, and S. Andrea della Fratte; and the Pope himself spoke to\n  me of this last discourse in a tone of satisfaction. He would not\n  have been opposed, as far as could be observed, if, instead of three\n  churches, I could have made up a list of three hundred.\n\n  \"Another means I took for moving the Roman people was, by the papers\n  printed for me by the Propaganda, of which I spoke in my last\n  letter. The first of these was thus headed:--'Association of Prayers\n  and Good Works for the Conversion of those who are separated from\n  the Holy Catholic Church, but especially of England.' Before this\n  {426} writing was printed, I gave a copy of it to Monsignor Talbot,\n  to lay before the Pope. He returned it to me, with this addition in\n  his own hand:--\n\n  \"'His Holiness has deigned to grant to this pious work his special\n  benediction.\n\n    \"'George Talbot, Cameriere Segreto.\n    \"'_Nov_. 15, 1851.'\n\n  \"To this is appended the petition presented for me by Monsignor\n  Barnab\u00f2, for the extension of indulgences, as follows:--\n\n  \"'Most Blessed Father,--Ignatius of St. Paul (Spencer), Passionist,\n  Provincial Consultor in England, prostrate at the feet of your\n  Holiness, states that, being desirous of extending the Association\n  of Prayers already existing for England, in favour of all those who\n  are separated from the Holy Church, and being sensible that a fresh\n  spiritual attraction is necessary in order to move all the faithful\n  to enter on this holy enterprise, most humbly implores your\n  Holiness, that you would be pleased to extend the three hundred\n  days' indulgence already granted by your Holiness to whoever prays\n  for the conversion of England, to this new work, and moreover grant\n  one hundred days for whatever good work may be done in favour of\n  this Association.'\n\n  \"Monsignor Barnab\u00f2 reported, that though the Pope adverted to his\n  former declaration, that he would give no more indulgences on this\n  account, he granted this petition in the most gracious manner. The\n  date of this grant is Nov. 16, 1851.\n\n  \"It is evidently intimated here, that while granting his sanction to\n  the extension of the enterprise, he renewed his sanction to it in\n  its original form. I must here conclude, and defer again to another\n  letter what I promised before, that is, some account of what passed\n  in the audiences to which I myself was admitted by his Holiness.\"\n\n  An incident happened towards the end of Father Ignatius's audiences\n  with the Holy Father, highly characteristic. Father Ignatius had\n  made arrangements for a begging tour in Germany, and intended to\n  inaugurate it by trying what {427} he could do in that line in Rome\n  itself. Our General forbade him to beg of his Holiness, and Father\n  Ignatius had made up his mind before to do so. After the prohibition\n  he began to doubt whether it was binding, as the Pope was a higher\n  superior than the General. He consulted an astute Roman theologian\n  on his doubt, and the answer given was, \"Lay the doubt itself before\n  the Pope.\"\n\n  Father Ignatius had an audience in store for him for a different\n  matter, and when it was over, he said, in the greatest simplicity,\n  \"Holy Father, I have a scruple on my mind, which I would wish to\n  speak about, if I might be permitted.\" \"Well, and what is it?\" He\n  here told the Pope just as he was advised. The Pope smiled, handed\n  him ten _gregorine_ (about \u00a325), and told him not to mind the\n  scruple.\n\n\n{428}\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nA Tour In Germany.\n\n\nFather Ignatius left Rome with the Holy Fathers blessing on both his\nspiritual and temporal projects. On his way to Germany, whither he was\nbound for a twofold begging tour, he preached everywhere to religious,\npriests, nuns, people, and children, upon the conversion of England.\nHe went further than mere exhortation, he tried to get the Bishops and\nreligious to take up his ideas, now stamped with the approbation of\nRome, and propagate them among those under their jurisdiction. He met\nwith kindness and encouragement in every town and hamlet until he came\nto Laibach. Here the police seized him and sent him away. At Gratz he\nmet with a better reception. Throughout, the priests and religious\nreceive him with a something approaching to honour, and so do the\nnobility, but government officials and the like treat him rudely\nenough.\n\nWhen he arrived in Vienna, he found a way of conciliating these\nofficers of justice and their subalterns. Graf (Count) O'Donnel took\nhim to the Secretary of Police, and procured him a safe-conduct,\nwhereby this kind of annoyance was put an end to for the future. Great\npersonages patronize him--among the chief were Prince Esterhazy,\nCounts O'Donnel and Litchenstein. Through their kindness and his own\nrepute, he is favoured with interviews from the members of the royal\nfamily. A few of these in his own words must be interesting:--\n\n  \"While at Rome, I heard one day the wonderful account of the _coup\n  d'\u00e9tat_ of the now Emperor of the French. I thought with myself that\n  moment, here is a man for me--perhaps _the_ man. If he survive the\n  assaults of his enemies, {429} and become established in power over\n  France, he is the man evidently for great designs; the people whom\n  he rules are the people to follow him in them; and he has a mind, so\n  I conceived, to understand how utterly insignificant are all\n  enterprises, in comparison with those which have the glory of God\n  and the salvation of souls for their end. But will he, can he, be\n  moved to take up the great cause? I got an introduction to the\n  French ambassador at Rome, in order to open my way to an interview\n  with his chief. This may be in reserve for me some future day; but I\n  was first to see another great man--the young Emperor of Austria.\n\n  \"I think an account of this audience, and some accompanying\n  circumstances, will be interesting in more points of view than one.\n  After leaving Rome at the beginning of February, I went to Vienna,\n  and stopped there three weeks before coming home. The Emperor had\n  just left Vienna for Venice when I arrived, and did not return till\n  a fortnight after. In consequence of this, I sought for, and had\n  audience of all the other members of the royal family then in the\n  town. Many may not be aware of the circumstances under which the\n  present Emperor was raised to the throne. Everything connected with\n  this young man is to me full of a kind of poetic interest. He is the\n  eldest son of the Archduke Francis Charles and the Archduchess\n  Sophia, a princess of Bavaria. His father is brother to the\n  ex-Emperor Ferdinand.\n\n  \"It is said that in 1848, at the time when the insurgents had gained\n  possession of Vienna, and the court was in flight, some one asked\n  the Empress Mary Ann, a Sardinian princess, 'Madam, have you ever\n  thought of an abdication?' 'I have, indeed,' answered she; 'but what\n  is to follow?' The Emperor had no children, and his next heir was\n  his brother the Archduke. Both of them have been always highly\n  respected as most amiable and religious men, but are not of\n  abilities or character to bear the charge of an empire under such\n  circumstances. The abdication, then, of the reigning Emperor would\n  not have been a remedy to existing evils, unless his brother joined\n  in the sacrifice of his claims, and made way for the succession of\n  his son. This {430} arrangement, however, was effected; and, if what\n  I gathered from conversations and observation is correct, it is to\n  the two ladies whom I have mentioned, that the empire is indebted\n  for it. Do not they deserve the admiration of the present and future\n  generations, and to have their place among the _valiant women_, for\n  renouncing the honours of an imperial crown, for the public good? Be\n  this as it may, the announcement was made to the young prince, then\n  eighteen years of age, that the crown was his. It is said that he\n  burst into tears at hearing it, and begged two days for reflection,\n  during which he went to confession and communion, to obtain light\n  from God, and concluded with giving his consent. His career has been\n  conformable with this beginning. Among other things, I may mention\n  that one of his first acts was, of his own mind, to repeal the\n  oppressive laws of Joseph II., and to restore liberty to the Church.\n  Could I do otherwise than long to interest such a soul as this in\n  the great cause I was supporting? Shall I succeed in the end? I had\n  an audience of the Archduchess Sophia, the Emperor's mother, before\n  his return from Venice. It is under her care and guidance, as I was\n  assured, that his character has been formed; and it was touching to\n  hear her make me a kind of apology for what might, perhaps, be taken\n  as a defect in his manner. I told her I was desirous of an audience\n  of his Majesty. She said, 'You will certainly obtain it;' and she\n  added, \"You will perhaps think him cold, but he is not so.' This\n  corresponds with what she said to a friend of mine, a German\n  literary character, who was likewise about to have his first\n  audience from the Emperor. The Archduchess said to him, 'His manner\n  is not winning, like that of Carl [meaning her third son, the\n  Archduke Charles], but he has greater depth of character; from his\n  childhood upwards I never knew him say a word merely to please;\n  every word is from his heart.' These few words of his mother are to\n  me a most precious comment on what passed between the Emperor and me\n  when I had my audience. I was introduced into a large saloon on one\n  of the days of public reception. The Emperor stood alone in the\n  middle of it; behind him, to the left, was a small table, on which\n  was a pile of {431} memorials which he had already received. He was\n  in military uniform. I should be glad to convey the impression which\n  his appearance, and the few words he spoke, made on me. A young\n  emperor, I suppose, has great advantage in gaining upon one's\n  feelings, if he will in any degree do himself justice. In this case,\n  I say, that I never was more satisfied, not to say captivated, with\n  my observations on any person. His figure is not in itself\n  commanding; but there was in his air and manner and tone a union of\n  grace and affability, dignity, wisdom, and modesty, which I do not\n  remember to have seen equalled. I was greatly struck, on my\n  entrance, with what appeared to me such a contrast between what I\n  witnessed and the receptions usually given by great personages who\n  wish to be gracious. Ordinarily, my impression is that they\n  overwhelm one with many words, which often mean nothing. The Emperor\n  was perfectly silent. I had time to think with myself, after I had\n  approached him, 'Am I then to speak first? So it was. I have a very\n  clear recollection of what was said.\n\n  \"'I have requested this audience,' I said, 'to represent to your\n  Majesty the object for which I am travelling. It is to move\n  Catholics throughout the world to interest themselves in obtaining\n  the return of my country to the Catholic faith. On this, I am deeply\n  convinced, depends entirely the happiness of my country; and, I\n  conceive, nothing would more contribute to the happiness of other\n  nations of the world.'\n\n  \"The Emperor seemed to intimate assent to this, and said with great\n  grace: 'I am happy to hear that things go on better in England in\n  regard to religion than they have done.'\n\n  \"'There is much,' I said, 'to encourage hopes; but we want great\n  help. I am come to ask the help of Austria. I do not take on me to\n  prescribe what your Majesty in person might do in this cause. As the\n  principal means to be employed is prayer, I am aware that it belongs\n  rather to Bishops to direct such movements; but I ask help and\n  sympathy from all. I thought it could not be anything but right to\n  ask your Majesty's.'\n\n{432}\n\n  \"He answered: 'I will interest myself as much at possible.'\n\n  \"I added: 'I have said, I did not intend to propose any line of\n  action to your Majesty; but I may explain myself further. It is to\n  the Bishops that I make my principal appeal to interest the people\n  in this object. Now, I am aware that they would and must be averse\n  to any public measures which might seem to involve political\n  inconvenience: I would, therefore, ask of your Majesty, that if the\n  bishops are pleased to act, the Government should not object to it,\n  as I conceive there would be no reason.'\n\n  \"The Emperor said something to the effect, as I thought, that he saw\n  no reason to object to what I said.\n\n  \"I was aware that my audience could not be a long one, and I now put\n  my hand to the breast of my habit to take out a memorial, which I\n  had been directed to present on this occasion, for permission to\n  collect subscriptions in the empire.\n\n  \"He thought I was about to offer him papers on the subject on which\n  I had been speaking, and said: 'You probably have some papers which\n  will explain your wishes.'\n\n  \"I said: 'I have; but they are not in a becoming form to present to\n  your Majesty.'\n\n  \"I had, in fact, two little addresses printed on poor paper, in\n  German, for distribution; and I brought them forward.\n\n  \"He immediately put out his hand to take them, and said, with a\n  smile and manner of truly high-bred courtesy: 'Oh! I will read them;\n  'and he laid them on the table by him.\n\n  \"I then presented my written memorial, and then, on his slightly\n  bowing to me, I withdrew.\"\n\n  Another letter says:--\n\n  \"In my last letter I repeated the words in which that wise and\n  excellent Princess, the Archduchess Sophia, described the character\n  of two of her sons: 'The Emperor seems cold, but he is not so. He is\n  not winning and amiable like Carl, but he has more solidity and\n  depth.' I remarked that to me these words were a most interesting\n  commentary {433} on what passed in the short audience I had from the\n  young Emperor; and if I succeeded in my description of it, I am sure\n  others will think with me. I will now give some account of my\n  audience with the third brother, the young Archduke Charles. The\n  second brother, whose name I do not now remember, was not in Vienna\n  at the time. He is a seaman, and I suppose it is intended that under\n  his auspices the Austrian navy should be advanced to greater vigour\n  and efficiency, while the Emperor and Charles attend mainly to the\n  army. The empire possesses two splendid ports--Trieste and Venice;\n  and past history proves what may be done with the latter alone.\n\n  \"I made acquaintance with a Swiss ecclesiastic in Vienna (Mgr.\n  Mislin), who bore a part in the education of all three of these\n  princes. I had told him what were my desires concerning them; that\n  is, to inspire them with ardent zeal for the great work of the\n  reunion of Christendom, but especially the reconquest of England for\n  the Church. One day the Abb\u00e9 called to see me, at the palace of the\n  Pope's Nuncio, where I was staying; and as I was out, he left word\n  that he wished to see me without delay. He had to tell me, as I\n  found, that the Archduke Charles, with whom he regularly goes to\n  dine every Friday, had said to him on the last of these occasions,\n  'Do you know Father Ignatius?' 'Yes,' he answered, 'very well.' 'Do\n  you think,' added the Prince, 'I could see him? I wish it very\n  much.' 'Oh,' replied the Abb\u00e9, 'there will be no difficulty; 'and at\n  once an hour was fixed--two o'clock on the 11th of March. It\n  happened, however, that notice was received that at this very time\n  the Emperor was to arrive from Trieste, and the Archduke had to go\n  to the railway terminus to meet him. My audience was deferred till\n  half-past three; and I went with the Abb\u00e9 to the private entrance of\n  the imperial palace to see them arrive. They were driven up from the\n  station in a light open carriage; and it was thus, side by side,\n  that I first saw them both. I may be mistaken, but in my poetic\n  recollections and visions of Vienna, if I, who am no poet, may so\n  speak, these two brothers are charmingly conjoined in my mind. At\n  half-past three, then, I went to {434} the Archduke's apartments in\n  the Burg, as it is called--a great mass of building, which includes\n  the Emperor's town residence, apartments for all the royal family,\n  several public offices, extensive quarters for troops, &c.--and was\n  immediately introduced to him in a large drawing-room, where he kept\n  me a good half-hour in lively conversation. My impression of him\n  was, of a bright, buoyant youth, full of shining prospects of his\n  future career; in which, though, perhaps, somewhat unconsciously to\n  himself, he is both qualified by circumstances and character, and\n  nobly disposed to exert himself for everything great and good. All\n  this, however, is yet to be developed and consolidated by age,\n  reflection, and experience. I should say, not so much that he\n  himself is eagerly grasping at facts with which to store his mind,\n  to be in due time digested, matured, and acted upon, as that\n  Providence is turning to account his natural youthful eagerness, and\n  shall we say, curiosity, to do this for him. May it prove that I am\n  not forming over bright and groundless visions!\n\n  \"The Archduke was dressed in a plain cavalry uniform. He was then\n  about 19 years old, and very young-looking for his age. My object\n  was to impress him with the grand importance of the enterprise which\n  I was proposing as proper to form the dearest and constant aim of\n  his brother's reign; that is, the restoring union to Christendom,\n  having peculiarly in view the reconciling England to the Church. 'I\n  have no wish,' I said, 'to see him, the Emperor, less devoted to his\n  army: let him watch with constant care over all the interests of his\n  Imperial dignity; but let him be devoted, above all and in\n  everything, to the glory of God, and the repairing the losses of the\n  Holy Church; and if it pleases God he should live, he will have a\n  career more glorious, and leave a name greater than Charlemagne.' He\n  said, 'Surely what you propose is most important. It is a matter to\n  be deeply deplored that so many German states are cut off from the\n  Church.' .....  I do not remember clearly much more of what passed\n  in this conversation, and in truth it is not of so much consequence;\n  for his words are not all weighed, solid, and worth recording, like\n  those of his more {435} sage brother. All have not the same gifts,\n  natural or spiritual; and it is not well they should. Of course, it\n  is not well, because God has ordered it thus. But I could see in the\n  diversity of these young men what might be wonderfully combined for\n  doing great things. Charles would not be the one to govern and\n  control, and he has not this to do. The Emperor has; and he is cut\n  out for it. But then perhaps he is not one to win and conciliate\n  those who do not know how to value all superior qualities like his;\n  yet this is necessary in such times, especially when sound,\n  old-fashioned loyalty is not much known. But let the two brothers\n  work together; let their hearts be one, and let that one purpose be\n  directed to noble ends, and it will be well for them, for the\n  empire, and for Europe. Charles will supply what the other wants. I\n  asked Monsignor Mislin one day, with an anxious feeling, whether\n  they were really affectionate, loving brothers, and the answer was\n  satisfactory.\"\n\n\n{436}\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nFather Ignatius Returns To England.\n\n\nHe lands at Dover on the 1st April, 1852, comes home, sets his house\nin order at the Hyde, and goes, after Holy Week, to see Father Eugene,\nthe Provincial, at St. Wilfrid's, to give an account of himself. His\nname was about this time in every one's mouth, his doings were\ncanvassed by friends and foes, and many and various were the opinions\nheld about him. In the meantime he went on with his ordinary duties.\nHe gives the retreat in Sedgeley Park again, and one to the\ncongregation at Havant. It was whilst here, in the house of Mr.\nScholfield, that he read Lord Derby's proclamation against appearing\nabroad in the religious habit.\n\nFather Ignatius had to return to London next day, and did not wish to\nviolate this prohibition. He was sadly at a loss; he had brought no\nsecular clothes with him, and the gentleman with whom he was staying\nwas short and stout, so that it was hopeless to think of getting\nanything suitable from his wardrobe. The butler was taxed for a\ncontribution; all who had an article to spare gave heartily, and the\nMonk was, after some ingenuity, equipped in the following fashion: A\npair of very light shoes, fitting badly and pinching sorely, a pair of\nshort coloured pantaloons, a great pilot overcoat, a Scotch cap, cut\nso as to make it fit his head, formed the _cap-\u00e0-pie_ of Father\nIgnatius. He took refuge in Spanish Place until the darkness of night\nmight save him from his juvenile friends along the Edgware Road, who,\nif they recognised him in his new fashion, would treat him to a more\nthan ordinary share of ridicule. He took off the shoes when outside\nLondon, and one may imagine the surprise of {437} the religious when\nhe entered the choir thus arrayed, in the middle of matins, to get\nFather Provincial's permission to _change!_\n\nOur Fathers shortly after were convoked by the Provincial to a kind of\nchapter. Among other matters submitted to their consideration, came\nthe doings of Father Ignatius. There were cavils on all sides, from\nwithin and without, and many thought that it was his imprudence that\ndrew forth the proclamation. The nature of the charges against him\nwill be seen from an apologetic letter of his to the _Standard_:--\n\n  To The Editor Of The \"Catholic Standard.\"\n  Jesu Christi Passio.\n\n  Sir,--I remarked in my last, not as a complaint, but quite the\n  contrary, that I have often heard that good Catholics have suspected\n  me to be not right in my head, because of my strange devotion to the\n  conversion of England and of the many strange things which this\n  fancy, as it seems to them, has led me to do. So far, indeed, am I\n  from being surprised at or vexed by them, that I fairly declare that\n  something like a suspicion of this kind sometimes flashes across my\n  own mind. Suppose, for instance, I might hear of any one becoming\n  deranged or being in danger of it, I have felt at times something\n  like a sympathetic chord struck in my own mind, which seems to say,\n  \"Are people right, perhaps, after all? Am I not really mad on this\n  point?' And it may take me a moment's thought to keep my fair even\n  balance. How do I keep it?--Not as I might have done, some thirty\n  years ago, by recollecting, what when young I used to hear said by\n  my relations, with self-congratulation, \"Well, thank God, there is\n  no taint of madness in our family!--\"No; I get my satisfaction\n  independently of this, from a twofold consciousness, to one branch\n  of which I could not have referred then--that is, from the\n  consciousness, first, of a yet unimpaired memory concerning what I\n  have seen and said and heard within reasonable limits of time; and\n  secondly, from the consciousness, glory be to God for {438} it, of\n  (may I say it without rashness?) a perfect Catholic, Apostolic,\n  Roman faith. I _remember_--I cannot be mistaken in this--that, not\n  two years ago, I spent four months in Rome, and spoke out there all\n  my thoughts on this subject, as far as I had opportunity given,\n  without a shadow of reserve, to the first authorities of the Church;\n  and that it ended by my receiving and having in my possession\n  documents fully approving of what I had been doing and purposed to\n  do, from the first authorities of the Church, to which I may add the\n  mention of testimonials signed by the Generals of the Dominicans, of\n  the Conventual Franciscans, of the Franciscans _Strictioris\n  Observantiae_, and of the Capuchins, recommending me to all local\n  superiors of their respective orders, to the end that they should\n  receive me to hospitality in all their houses, allow the use of\n  their churches to preach in, and assist me in every possible way in\n  my purposes. I have then said to myself, \"It would indeed be no\n  ordinary sort of madness breaking out for the first time in a\n  family, which should have the marvellous power of communicating\n  itself, infecting and dragging after it such a number of certainly\n  very respectable heads; to which I may add, that the foundation, as\n  it were, of all these testimonials, was a letter from his Eminence\n  the Archbishop of Westminster, given me when I went into Germany in\n  the summer of 1851, renewed with a fresh signature in 1852, after\n  all my vagaries (?) at Vienna had taken place. In this letter,\n  written in French by the hand of his Eminence himself--of whom I\n  never heard any one express the idea that he was touched in the\n  brain--he states that \"having perfectly known me from the time of my\n  conversion [I feel an intimate conviction in myself no one knows me\n  better] he does not hesitate to recommend me to all the Catholics of\n  the Continent, particularly to all bishops and ecclesiastics,\n  secular and regular, as worthy of all their consideration and of\n  their support, in the matters about which I should be engaged.\" No;\n  I say, that on divine principles, almost as well as human, it is too\n  much to imagine that I have been mad, thus far; whatever may be the\n  case hereafter. Protestants, at least some of them, might say so,\n  and might {439} think it too. No wonder. But will this remonstrance\n  suffice to put an end to such insinuations from good Catholics?\n  Mind, I am not displeased at them; nay, I relish these insinuations\n  beyond what I can express. I have solid reasons for this; but I\n  desire for the future to forego this personal consolation, for the\n  sake of the souls of my poor countrymen, and of hundreds of millions\n  more throughout the world, which I have the conviction might be\n  saved, if the Catholics of England and Ireland would at length have\n  done with their objections, and undertake with all their heart the\n  gaining of this kingdom to God and His Church--and a reputed madman\n  is not likely to move them to it. I cannot but think that the\n  authorities under whose sanction I have acted might be considered a\n  sufficient defence against objections to the movement which I call\n  for so pertinaciously. I will, however, proceed to answer one by one\n  the remarks which I supposed in my last letter might be passed on my\n  narrative of proceedings at Vienna. First, I supposed some would\n  smile at my ignorance of the world, in expecting that in our days\n  young princes like the Emperor of Austria and his brother should\n  have any dispositions to enter into ideas like mine. But why not?\n  Are they not good ideas? at least, I think them so; and am I to\n  think a person incapable of great and good designs because he is an\n  emperor--a prince? There is no doubt that because he is a prince, he\n  is immensely more responsible for the objects which he pursues; and\n  that the glory of God would be incomparably more advanced by his\n  devoting himself to heavenly pursuits than if he were an ordinary\n  person; and are we tamely to surrender to the service of the world,\n  and of the Prince of this world, all who have power to influence the\n  world, and be content on God's behalf to have none but the poor and\n  weak on the other side? I know it is in the Word of God that not\n  many wise, not many noble, &c., are called. God has chosen the poor\n  in this world; but yet there has been a St. Henry, an emperor; a St.\n  Stephen, King of Hungary; a St. Louis of France; a St. Edward the\n  Confessor, and so many more; and what magnificent instruments have\n  such {440} men been for exalting the Church, converting nations, and\n  saving souls! If they have been few in comparison with kings and\n  emperors whose views have been all temporal, is that a reason\n  against trying to add one or two more to their number? I think it is\n  a reason why we _should_ try; and if we are to try, let us do it in\n  the spirit of hope, or we shall do it very languidly. If after all\n  we fail, what have we lost by trying and by hoping? You may answer,\n  we shall suffer disappointment. Ah! who says that? No! no\n  disappointment for those who hope in God and work for Him\n  legitimately. It would make my heart bleed, if I had a heart fit for\n  it, to think of the noble, truly princely youths in question,\n  sinking down to the wretched level of worldly, selfish, immoral,\n  useless men of power, of whom the world has borne so many; and for a\n  time, if but for a time, I have indulged bright visions about them;\n  not mere dreamy visions, for their education, the circumstances of\n  their elevation, the young Emperor's career hitherto, his late\n  wonderful deliverance from assassination, in which he behaved, as\n  report says, in away to encourage all such thoughts as mine--all\n  these are reasons on my side; but suppose I am disappointed there;\n  suppose no one sympathizes in my thoughts; suppose the Emperor has\n  forgotten all about my appeal, and I never travel more, or never\n  more to Vienna, and no one else will take any trouble about it--is\n  God's arm shortened? Are there no other emperors, or kings, or\n  queens for Him to choose among, if emperors He has need of for the\n  work? My friends, fear not. I do not intend to be disappointed, and,\n  what is more, I shall not be, nor will any of those be who work for\n  the saving of souls, even on the very largest scale, unless we are\n  so foolish as to turn back and grow slack. But is it not an error,\n  it will be asked, a mistake to wish kings and emperors to interfere\n  in such things? I know many persons of great consideration have this\n  thought; but the mistake seems to me to lie in not making a\n  distinction between such interference as that of Constantius,\n  Valens, Julian, in old times; Henry IV. and Joseph II. of Austria,\n  Henry VIII. of England, and that of such princes as I have named\n  above, whom the Church has canonized for {441} what they did for\n  her. This is my opinion, others have theirs; how shall we decide?\n  Can we here again know the mind of Rome; and will not that have some\n  weight in settling the question? I will just relate what took place\n  there relative to this matter. When preparing to leave Rome for\n  Vienna, I desired to obtain from the Austrian Ambassador there a\n  letter, which might facilitate my access to the Emperor, on which I\n  had set my heart. But I understood the Ambassador himself was not\n  easily accessible, and that I had better obtain a note of\n  introduction to him, and from no one would it be so desirable as\n  from Cardinal Antonelli, the Pope's Secretary of State. I obtained\n  an audience from him and made my request. He answered: \"We have a\n  nuncio at Vienna; it will do better for you to have a letter from me\n  to him.\" Of course I accepted this spontaneous offer most\n  thankfully. The Cardinal desired me to tell him what I wished at\n  Vienna, I said: \"An audience of the Emperor: and as I am asking the\n  favour of your Eminence to assist me in obtaining it, it seems right\n  you should know for what end I desire it. It is to propose to the\n  Emperor to take to heart my great object of the conversion of\n  England, and of Protestants in general, and to move his subjects to\n  it.\" The Cardinal explained to me some circumstances in the position\n  of the Emperor, which made it unlikely that he would be led to take\n  any open steps of this kind; but he gave me the letter without a\n  word of objection to my wish, on principle; and it was on my\n  presenting it to the Nuncio, that he most graciously desired that I\n  should lodge in his palace all the time that I was in Vienna. As I\n  have been led to mention this audience with Cardinal Antonelli, I\n  think others may share with me in the feelings of satisfaction and\n  admiration with which the remainder of what passed impressed me. I\n  took occasion from finding myself in company with the Pope's\n  Secretary of State, to make an additional effort towards moving Rome\n  in the great cause; and as, by his office, he had to regard the\n  political effect of a decided movement such as I was begging, I\n  urged my conviction that no political ill consequences need be\n  feared from the Holy Father calling on all Christendom to {442} move\n  in this spiritual enterprise. He interrupted me with saying: \"The\n  Holy Father fears no man and nothing in the world.\" He adverted to\n  the position in which he had seen him at Ga\u00e8ta, and said: \"The\n  political power of the Holy See depends on its weakness.\" I do not\n  remember the exact words; but they amounted to a noble adoption by\n  the Apostolic See of the famous Apostolic sentiment: \"When I am\n  weak, then am I strong,\" in relation not only to the wielding of its\n  own inalienable spiritual sovereignty, but to its accidental\n  temporal power, in the exercise of which we perhaps should not\n  expect always to see the Divine principle so prominent. This\n  discourse gave me the consoling assurance that when the mind of his\n  Holiness should be guided by the light which is in him, to judge\n  that the time is come for a powerful call on Christendom to move\n  forward in the great enterprise, no human considerations will check\n  his steps. The Holy Father knows no fear of man.\n\n    I am, your obedient servant,\n      Ignatius Of St. Paul, Passionist.\n\nThe joyous way in which he received crosses and mortifications may be\nseen from this letter. It seemed as if nothing could ruffle his\ntemper. He remarks on the Proclamation, in a letter he wrote to make\narrangements for saying mass in a private chapel: \"There ought to be\nsomething in the way of a cassock too, as the Queen and Lord Derby\nhave been pleased to make the country too hot for me to keep on my\nwearing of the habit for the present. At least so it seems.\"\n\nWhen he attended the meeting of our Fathers, alluded to above, he\ntravelled by train, with his habit slung over his shoulder, and the\nsign conspicuous, saying, \"Since they won't let me wear my habit like\na religious, I shall carry it like a slave.\"\n\n\n{443}\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nA Little Of His Home And Foreign Work.\n\n\nFather Ignatius gives a retreat to the nuns of Lingdale House, and\ncomes immediately after to Oscott, where the first Provincial Synod of\nthe English Hierarchy was being held. He presents a petition to the\nSynodal Fathers, and receives encouragement to prosecute his work of\nmoving all whom he can to pray for the conversion of England. His next\nmission was to make the visitation of our Belgian houses for the\nProvincial; when he found himself again abroad, he took advantage of\nthe opportunity. He goes to different places, and finds many Belgian\nand French bishops who preach upon his _oeuvre_, and recommend it by\ncirculars to their clergy. These journeys he paid for by begging\nwherever he went, and the object he begged for is seen from a letter\nof his to Mr. Monteith, dated Lille, Aug. 24, 1852:--\n\n  \"My dear Mr. Monteith,--Here I am, writing to you again, and you\n  will soon see that what brings me to this is, as usual, want of\n  money--_auri fames_. The case stands thus: I am on travel again,\n  with commission of finding means to build our house near London, of\n  which I am rector, or rather I am rector of a little place which\n  stands on the ground, and erecter rather than rector _ex officio_ of\n  the house that is to be there. I have my ideas how we might get\n  means for this expense, and for all other expenses; and, moreover,\n  how means could be got for all the houses in England and Scotland\n  too. I am following the end as well as I can, all alone, by the way\n  which seems to me the best and only one; but my being alone makes\n  the progress slow. Hitherto, my ideas are to others like\n  dreams--empty dreams, {444} though I have a pocket-book full of\n  recommendations from Rome to support them, which encourage me to\n  think I am not mad, when, by the manner in which I see people\n  sometimes look at me, I should almost think I was. I allude chiefly\n  to the way in which, in a company of English Catholics, the mention\n  from me of the idea, _conversion of England_, immediately silences a\n  company in the most animated conversation, as if I had said, 'Next\n  week I am going to be crowned King of France!' ... Though I speak as\n  I do, I am not without encouragement and fine prospects; but I want\n  to hasten things, as souls by thousands and millions perish by\n  delays; and this I will not, if I can help it, have to answer for.\n  An Englishman's regular, natural way to get his matters attended to,\n  is a steady, persevering grumble. He grumbles over one step, then\n  grumbles over the next, however comfortable and happy he may be over\n  what he has gained.\n\n  \"Last week I was at Cambrai, where there was a most remarkable\n  centenary feast, in honour of Notre Dame de Gr\u00e2ce. There is there an\n  old picture of Our Lady, brought from Rome 400 years ago, and\n  installed in the cathedral in 1452, which has been a centre of\n  devotion ever since. This was the year for the grand solemnity;\n  pilgrimages coming all the week from the diocese and farther. The\n  most remarkable of the pilgrims unquestionably was Cardinal Wiseman,\n  who came to preside over the procession and solemnities of the last\n  day. He sung mass, and preached his first sermon in France, which\n  was one of the most eloquent I ever heard from him, or any one,\n  notwithstanding his imperfect diction. It was all to the point of\n  moving the French Episcopate and nation to prayers for the\n  conversion of England. So, if I live, I have little or no doubt of\n  succeeding in time, but, meanwhile, I must poke here and poke there\n  for money, till it begins to come freely of itself. As to what the\n  Continent could do if their heart was once moved, I am convinced by\n  the history of the Crusades. If the Catholic nations were now\n  engaged in a material war, there would be armies on foot, and fleets\n  at sea, the cost of which, for one week, would be enough to build\n  cathedrals for all our bishops. {445} Why not the same money drawn\n  to effect the spiritual conquest? Because they do not care about it.\n  Then, let us make them; and how? The first step, of course, must be\n  to care for it ourselves. '_Si vis me flere, dolendum est primum\n  ipsi tibi._' And what can we do to bring our English and Scotch to\n  this?--Grumble at them, I suppose.\"\n\nOn his return from France in September, himself and Father Eugene came\nto the determination to move away from The Hyde, if a more convenient\nsite could be procured. The reason of this was chiefly the\nunsuitableness of the place to the working of our vocation. It was too\nsolitary for missionaries, and there was no local work for a number of\npriests. Some of the fathers disguise themselves in secular suits,\nless unseemly than that in which they once beheld Father Ignatius, and\ngo in search of a place, but without success. Father Ignatius gave a\nmission at this time in Kentish Town, and he little thought, as he\ntook his walk along the tarred paling in Maiden Lane, that inside lay\nthe grounds of the future St. Joseph's Retreat.\n\nTowards the end of the year 1852, Father Ignatius accompanies as far\nas London Bridge a colony of Passionists, whom Dr. O'Connor, the\nBishop of Pittsburg, was bringing out to the United States. These\nPassionists have grown in _gentem magnam_, and the worthy Bishop, like\nanother Odescalchi, resigned his crosier, and became a Jesuit.\n\nHe concludes this year and begins the next giving retreats. The scenes\nof his labours in this department were Somers Town, Blandford Square\n(London), our own house, Dudley, and Douay. He also assisted at a\nmission in Commercial Road, London, E.\n\nThe heaviest part of his work, as a member of The Hyde community, was\nattending to the parish, which, with the Barnet Mission, then under\nour charge, was equal in area to many a diocese in Catholic countries.\nFather Ignatius often walked thirty miles in one day on parochial\nduty. To give an idea of how he went through this work, one instance\nwill suffice. On one day to went to Colney Hatch Lunatic Asylum, and\nfrom all the unhappy inmates he was able to get one confession. Next\nday he walked to give {446} the Holy Communion to this single\npenitent, and walked afterwards to Barnet before he broke his fast.\nThis must be a distance of at least fifteen miles.\n\nIn May, 1853, he gives a retreat to his old parishioners of West\nBromwich, another in Winchester in July, to the nuns in Wolverhampton\nin August, and to the people in Oxburgh in October, and in Southport,\nLancashire, in Advent.\n\nThe 16th of November this year was a great day for our congregation.\nIt was the first feast of Blessed Paul of the Cross, our holy founder.\nThere was a great re-union of the chief fathers of the order in St.\nWilfrid's--the Bishops of Birmingham and Southwark, and Dr. Ullathorne\nand Dr. Grant assisted at the solemnity. Father Ignatius was there, of\ncourse. Father Paul was beatified on the 28th September, 1852. Our\nreligious had prayed and worked for the great event, and had now the\nhappiness of seeing him raised to the altar.\n\nHe stays at home a great deal now, as a rector ought to do, except in\nintervals of missions and retreats; and the lion's share of parish\nwork falls to him. He sends one of the priests of his community to\nFrance to beg for the house; but he had, in a very short time, to send\nhim money for his expenses home. He then concludes that he should\nhimself be considered beggar-in-chief, and accordingly goes out for a\nfew days to collect alms in London. With his alms, he collects into\nthe Church a young Puseyite minister, who is now a zealous priest on\nthe London mission.\n\nFather Ignatius visits the neighbouring ministers, but not as\nformerly; he simply goes to see his old acquaintances, and if the\nconversation could be transferred from compliments and common-place\nremarks to matters of higher interest, he was not the man to let the\nopportunity pass by. Among his old friends in the Anglican ministry\nthere seemed to have been few for whom he always cherished so kindly a\nregard as the Rev. Mr. Harvey, Rector of Hornsey. That excellent\nclergyman used to visit Father Ignatius, and receive visits from him\non the most friendly terms to the end.\n\nThus did he spend his time, until Father Pius, the brother {447} of\nour present General, who died in Rome in 1864, came to visit the\nprovince, or branch of the order in England, in 1854. This visit made\na change in Father Ignatius's position.\n\nA number of houses of a religious order are placed under the direction\nof one superior, who is styled a Provincial. With us the Provincial\nhas two assistants, who are called Consultors. The superior of each\nhouse is called a Rector, and it is his duty to see after the\nspiritual and temporal concerns of his own community. A rector,\ntherefore, has more home work, by virtue of his office, than any other\nsuperior. A consultor may live in any house of the province, has no\nspecial duty _ex officio_ except to give his advice to the Provincial\nwhen asked, and may be easily spared for any external employment. This\noffice Father Ignatius used to term as _otium cum dignitate_, though\nthe _otium_ he never enjoyed, and felt rather awkward in the\n_dignitas_.\n\nIn 1854, he was made first Consultor, and relieved from the drudgery\nof housekeeping for his brethren. Before leaving The Hyde for a new\nfield of labour, he went to see his nephew in Harrow, which was only a\nfew miles from our retreat; but was not admitted. He took another\npriest with him, and both were hooted by the boys. It seems pardonable\nin a set of wild young schoolboys to make game of such unfashionable\nbeings as Catholic priests; but it shows a great want of good breeding\nin schoolboys who are afterwards to hold such a high position in\nEnglish society. This remark is forced upon us by the fact that none\nof us ever passed through Harrow without meeting a somewhat similar\nreception. A school of inferior rank might set Harrow an example in\nthis point. We have passed Roger Cholmley's school in Highgate, time\nafter time, often in a large body, and have met the boys in threes and\nfours, and all together, and never yet heard a single insult. What\nmakes the difference?\n\nOn the 8th of September, 1854, Father Ignatius left The Hyde for\nIreland. He begs this time through the principal towns in Munster, and\nsays he was very kindly received by all. He preached sermons during\nthis journey, all on the {448} conversion of England. He gained more\nprayers this time than on a former occasion, because his work came to\nthe people with blessings and indulgences from the Father of the\nFaithful. He used to tell an amusing anecdote in reference to this\nmission. Somewhere he had preached on the conversion of England, and\nrecommended the prayers by the spiritual profit to be derived from\nthem. An old woman accosted him as he was passing by, and he had just\ntime to hear, \"Father, I say the three Hail Marys every day for\nEngland.\" Father Ignatius was much pleased, and made inquiries after\nthe old lady, doubtless intending to constitute her a kind of apostle\nin the place. She was brought to see him; he expressed his thanks and\npleasure that she had entered so thoroughly into his views, and asked\nher would she try to persuade others to follow her example? \"Me get\npeople to pray for England!\" she answered; \"I pray myself three times\nfor the sake of the indulgence, but I curse them 300 times a day for\nit, lest they might get any good of my prayers!\" He reasoned with her,\nto be sure, but did not tell us if the success of his second discourse\nwas equal to the first.\n\n\n{449}\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nSanctification Of Ireland.\n\n\nIn a letter written by Father Ignatius in December, 1854, is found the\nfirst glimpse of a new idea: the Sanctification of Ireland. This idea\nwas suggested to him by the faith of the Irish people, and by their\nreadiness to adopt whatever was for their spiritual profit. His\nintending the Sanctification of Ireland as a step towards the\nConversion of England, laid the scheme open to severe criticism. It\nwas said that England was his final object; that Ireland was to be\nused as an instrument for England's benefit; that if his patriotism\nwere less strong, his sanctity would be greater. If these objections\nwere satisfactorily answered, they might be given up with a hint that,\n\"it was a very Irish way to convert England, by preaching in the bogs\nof Connaught.\" The best refutation of these ungenerous remarks will\nbe, perhaps, a simple statement of what his ideas were upon the\nsubject. His great desire was that all the world should be perfect. He\nused to say Our Lord had not yet had His triumph in this world, and\nthat it was too bad the devil should still have the majority. \"This\nmust not be,\" he would say; \"I shall never rest as long as there is a\nsingle soul on earth who does not serve God perfectly.\" The practical\nway of arriving at this end was to begin at home. England had not\nfaith as a nation, so there was no foundation to build sanctity upon\nthere. England, however, had great influence as a nation all over the\nworld; she showed great zeal also in her abortive attempts to convert\nthe heathen. If her energies could be turned in the right direction,\nwhat grand results might we not anticipate? Another reflection was,\nEngland has had every means of conversion tried upon her; {450} let us\nnow see what virtue there is in good example. To set this example, and\nto sow the seed of the great universal harvest, he would find out the\nbest Catholic nation in the world, and bring it perfectly up to the\nmaxims of the Gospel. This nation was Ireland, of course, and it was\nnear enough to England to let its light shine before her. What he\nwished for was, to have every man, woman, and child in Ireland, take\nup the idea that they were to be saints. He would have this caught up\nwith a kind of national move. The practical working of the idea he\nembodied in a little book which he wrote some time afterwards, and\npreached it wherever he addressed an Irish congregation. The banishing\nof three great vices--cursing, company-keeping, and intemperance--and\nthe practice of daily meditation, with a frequent approach to the\nsacraments, were the means. If Ireland, so he argued, took up this at\nhome, it would spread to England, the colonies, and to wherever there\nwas an Irishman all over the world. All these would be shining lights,\nand if their neighbours did not choose at once to follow their\nexample, we could at least point it out as the best proof of our\nexhortations. This is a short sketch of the work he now began, and it\nwas a work his superiors always encouraged, and which he spent his\nlife in endeavouring to realise.\n\nOne objection made against this scheme touched him on a tender\npoint--his love of country. Many Catholics, especially English\nconverts, thought the words of Ecclesiasticus applicable to England:\n\"Injuries and wrongs will waste riches: and the house that is very\nrich shall be brought to nothing by pride: so the substance of the\nproud shall be rooted out.\"--Eccl. xxi. 5. These were of opinion that\nEngland must be humbled as a nation, and deeply too, before she could\nbe fit for conversion. This Father Ignatius could not stand. He\nwrites, in a letter to Mr. Monteith: \"As my _unicum necessarium_ for\nmyself is the salvation and sanctification of my own soul, so my\nwishes and designs about England, which, according to the order of\ncharity, I consider (in opposition to many English Catholics,\nespecially converts), I ought to love first of all people, are, singly\nand {451} only, that she may be brought to God, and in such a way and\nunder such circumstances, as may enable her to be the greatest\npossible blessing to the whole world. I have heard plenty, and much\nmore than plenty, from English and Irish Catholics (very seldom,\ncomparatively, from those of the Continent), about the impossibility\nof this, except by the thorough crushing of the power of England. I\nsay to all this, _No, no, no!_ God can convert our country with her\npower and her influence unimpaired, and I insist on people praying for\nit without imposing conditions on Almighty God, on whom, if I did\nimpose conditions, it would be in favour of His showing more, and not\nless abundant, mercy to a fallen people. Yet, though I have often said\nI will not allow Miss This, or Mr. That, to pronounce sentence on\nEngland, still less to wish evil to her (particularly if it be an\nEnglish Mr. or Miss who talks), I have always said that if God sees it\nfit that the conversion should be through outward humiliations and\nscourges, I will welcome the rod, and thank Him for it, in behalf of\nmy country, as I would in my own person, in whatever way He might\nthink fit to chastise and humble me.\"\n\nHe returned to London in the beginning of 1855, to give the retreat to\nour religious. His next work was a mission, given with Father\nGaudentius in Stockport. After that, he gave a mission with Father\nVincent in Hull; in returning from Hull, he stopped at Lincoln to\nvisit Mr. Sibthorpe. He spends a week in our London house, and then\ngives a retreat by himself in Trelawny. His next mission was in\nDungannon, Ireland, and as soon as he came to England for another\nretreat he had to give in Levenshulme to nuns, he takes advantage of\nhis week's rest to visit Grace Dieu, and have what he calls \"a famous\ntalk\" with Count de Montalembert, who was Mr. Phillipps's guest at the\ntime.\n\nThe scene of his labours is again transferred. We find him in July\ngiving a mission at Borris O'Kane, with Father Vincent and Father\nBernard  and another immediately after, at Lorrha. At one of these\nmissions, the crowd about Father Ignatius's confession-chair was very\ngreat, and the people were crushing in close to the confessor's knees.\nOne woman, {452} especially, of more than ordinary muscular strength,\nelbowed back many of those who had taken their places before she came;\nshe succeeded in getting to the inner circle of penitents, but so near\nthe person confessing that the good father gently remonstrated with\nher. All to no purpose. He spoke again, but she only came nearer. At\nlength he seized her shawl, rolled it up in a ball, and flung it over\nthe heads of the crowd; the poor woman had to relinquish her position,\nand go for her shawl, and left Father Ignatius to shrive her less\npushing companions. His fellow missioners were highly amused, and this\nincident tells wonderfully for his virtue, for it is almost the only\ninstance we could ever find of his having done anything like losing\nhis temper during his life as a Passionist. He gives a retreat in\nBirr, in Grantham Abbey, a mission in Newcastle, and another in St.\nAugustine's, Liverpool, before the end of the year.\n\nIt was his custom, since his first turning seriously to God's service,\nto be awake at midnight on New Year's Day, and begin by prayer for\npassing the coming year perfectly. He is in St. Anne's, Sutton,\nLancashire, this year. He begins the new year, 1856, by giving a\nmission with Father Leonard in our church at Sutton, with a few\nsermons at a place called Peasly Cross, an offshoot of the mission we\nhave there.\n\nWe close this chapter by a notion of Father Ignatius's politics. He\nwas neither a Whig, a Tory, nor a Radical. He stood aloof from all\nparties, and seldom troubled himself about any. He says in a letter to\na friend who was a well-read politician:--\"How many minds we have\nspeaking in England!--Gladstone, Palmerston, Bright, Phillipps,\nyourself, and, perhaps, I should add myself, and how many more who\nknows? all with minds following tracks which make them travel apart\nfrom each other. I want to set a road open, in which all may walk\ntogether if they please--at least with one foot, if they must have\ntheir own particular plank for the other.\"\n\n\n{453}\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nAnother Tour On The Continent.\n\n\nThe Provincial once more sent Father Ignatius to beg on the Continent.\nHe tried to do a double work, as he did not like to be \"used up\" for\nbegging alone, and the plea of begging would find him access to those\nhe intended to consult. This second work was a form into which he cast\nhis ideas for the sanctification of the world. The way of carrying out\nthese ideas, which has been detailed, was what he settled down to\nafter long discussion and many corrections from authority. The\npamphlet which he now wrote had been translated into German by a lady\nin M\u00fcnster. In it he proposes a bringing back of Catholics to the\ninfancy of the Church, when the faithful laid the price of their\npossessions at the feet of the Apostles. He proposed a kind of\nTheocracy, and the scheme creates about the same sensation as Utopia,\nwhen one reads it. Like Sir Thomas More, Father Ignatius gives us what\nhe should consider a perfect state of Christian society; he goes into\nall the details of its working, and meets the objections that might\narise as it proceeds. The pamphlet is entitled _Reflectiones\nPropositionesque pro fidelium Sanctificatione_.\"\n\nOn February 14, 1856, he leaves London, and halts in Paris only for a\nfew hours, on his way to Marseilles. There he sees the Archbishop, and\nbegs in the town; he returns then to Lyons, where he has several long\nconferences with Cardinal de Bonald. We find him in Paris in a few\ndays, writing circulars to the French bishops, of whom the Bishop of\nNancy seems to have been his greatest patron. He writes a letter to\nthe Empress, and receives an answer that the Emperor would admit him\nto an audience. In a day or two {454} Father Ignatius stands in the\npresence of Napoleon III., and it is a loss that he has not left us\nthe particulars of the conference in writing, because he often\nreverted to it in conversation with a great deal of interest. He found\nat his lodgings, on returning from a _qu\u00eate_ a few days after, l,000f.\nsent to him as a donation by the Emperor.\n\nHis good success in the Tuileries gave him a hope of doing great\nthings among the _\u00e9lite_ of Parisian society. He is, however, sadly\ndisappointed, and the next day sets off to Belgium.\n\nArrived in Tournai, he sends a copy of the French circular to the\nBelgian bishops. This does not seem to be a petition for alms, as we\nfind him the same evening travelling in a third-class carriage to\nCologne, without waiting for their Lordships' answers.\n\nDuring his begging in Cologne, he says mass every morning in St.\nColomba's (Columb-Kille's) Church; perhaps the spirit of hospitality\nwas bequeathed to the clergy of this Church by their Irish patron, for\nhe appears to have experienced some coldness from the _pfarren_ of\nCologne.\n\nIn M\u00fcnster he is very well received. The Bishop is particularly kind\nto him, and looks favourably on his _Reflectiones_; besides that, his\nlordship deputes a priest to be his guide in begging. Father Ignatius\nnotes in his journal that he preached extempore in German to the\nJesuit novices, and that one of the fathers revises and corrects the\nGerman translation of the _Reflectiones_. The priest deputed for guide\nby the Bishop of M\u00fcnster was called away on business of importance,\nand Father Ignatius finds another. This Kaplan \"lost his time\nsmoking,\" and our good father gave up, and went off by K\u00f6ln to\nCoblentz.\n\nHe finds the bishop here very kind, but is allowed to beg only of the\nclergy; the Jesuits give him hospitality. A cold reception in Mantz,\nand a lukewarm one in Augsburg, hurry him off to Munich. He submits\nthe _Reflectiones_ to Dr. D\u00f6llinger, who corrects them and gives them\nhis approbation.\n\nFrom Munich he proceeds to Vienna. A part of this journey, as far as\nLintz, had to be performed by an _eilwayen_ {455} or post car. The\ndriver of this vehicle was a tremendous smoker, and Father Ignatius\ndid not at all enjoy the fumes of tobacco. He perceived that the\ndriver forgot the pipe, which he laid down at a _hoff_ on the way,\nwhile slaking his thirst, and never told him of it. He was exulting in\nthe hope of being able to travel to the next shop for pipes without\ninhaling tobacco smoke, when, to his mortification, the driver\nperceived his loss, and shouted out like a man in despair, _Mein\npfeiffe! Mein pfeiffe!_--My pipe! My pipe! To increase his passenger's\ndisappointment, he actually turned back a full German league, and then\nsmoked with a vengeance until he came to the next stage.\n\nFather Ignatius sends a copy of the _Reflectiones_ to Rome, on his\narrival in Vienna, and presents it with an address at an assembly of\nBishops that was then being held.\n\nHe has audiences with the Emperor and Archduke Maximilian, now Emperor\nof Mexico, as well as with the Nunzio, and all the notabilities,\nclerical and secular, in the city.\n\nImmediately after, somehow, he gets notice to quit from the Superior\nof a religious community, where he had been staying, and all the other\nreligious houses refuse to take him in. He was about to leave Vienna\nin consequence, as he did not like putting up in an hotel, when some\nItalian priests gave him hospitality, and welcomed him to stop with\nthem as long as he pleased. As a set-off to his disappointment, the\nBishop of Transylvania is very kind to him, and Cardinal\nSchwartzenberg even begs for him. He met the Most Rev. Father Jandel,\nGeneral of the Dominicans, in the Cardinal's Palace, and showed him\nthe _Reflectiones_. The good disciple of St. Thomas examined the\ndocument closely, and Father Ignatius records his opinion, \"he gave my\npaper a kick.\" Notwithstanding this sentence, he went on distributing\ncopies every where; but his tract-distribution was stopped in a few\ndays by a letter he received from our General.\n\nWhen he sent the little pamphlet to Rome it was handed for criticism\nto the Lector (or Professor) of Theology in our retreat, who was then\nFather Ignatius Paoli, the present Provincial in England. The critique\nwas very long and {456} quite unfavourable; it reached him, backed by\na letter from the General, which forbade to speak about the counsels\nfor the present. He records this sentence in his journal in these\nwords:--\"June 17. A letter from Padre Ignazio, by the General--Order\nto stop speaking of the counsels, &c. _Stop her, back her. Deo\ngratias!\"_ This was a favourite expression with him whenever a\nSuperior thwarted any of his projects: it was borrowed from the\nsteamboats that ply on the Thames, and Father Ignatius considered\nhimself as in the position of the little boy who echoes the orders of\nthe master to the engineers below. He used to say, \"What a catastrophe\nmight one expect if the boy undertook to give an order of his own!\"\n\nWhilst in Vienna he received a letter from Father Vincent, telling him\nof our having established a house of the order near Harold's Cross,\nDublin. Father Ignatius accompanied Father Vincent when they were both\nin Dublin, before the German tour began, in his search for a position,\nand Rathmines was selected. The excellent parish priest, Monsignor\nMeagher, had just opened his new church, and laboured hard to have a\nreligious community in his district. He therefore seconded the\nintentions of our people, and in a short time a house was taken in his\nparish, and every day cements the connexion between us and this\nvenerable ecclesiastic. A splendid edifice has since been built during\nthe Rectorship of Father Osmond, and chiefly through his exertions.\n\nFather Ignatius went to two or three towns, where the police would not\nallow him to beg unless patronised by a native priest, and not being\nable to fulfil these conditions he was obliged to desist.\n\nThis was Father Ignatius's last visit to Germany; he had been there\nfive times during his life. The first was a tour of pleasure, all the\nrest were for higher objects. He seems to have had a great regard for\nthe Germans; he considered them related by blood to the English, and\nalthough he himself was of Norman descent, he appears to have a\nspecial liking for the Saxon element in character. He preferred to\n{457} see it blended certainly, and would consider a vein of Celtic or\nNorman blood an improvement on the Teutonic.\n\nThere were other reasons. St. Boniface, the Apostle of Germany, was an\nEnglishman; St. Columbanus and St. Gall might be said to have laboured\nmore in Germany than in their native Ireland. The Germans owed\nsomething to England, and he wished to have them make a return.\nBesides, the Reformation began in Germany, and he would have the\ncountrymen of Luther and of Cranmer work together to repair the\ninjuries they had suffered from each other. This twofold plea was\nforced upon him by a German periodical, which advocated the cause of\nthe \"Crusade\" even so far back as 1838. Father Ignatius also knew how\nGerman scholarship was tinging the intellect of England, and he\nthought a spread of devotion would be the best antidote to\nRationalism. The reasons for working in France, which he styled \"that\ngenerous Catholic nation,\" were somewhat different, but they have been\ndetailed by himself in those portions of the correspondence respecting\nhis crusade.\n\nHe visits Raal, Resburg, Baden, Ratisbonne, and Munich; hence he\nstarts for London. Here he arrives on the 4th of October. He did not\ndelay, but went straight to Dublin, and stayed for the first time in\nBlessed Paul's Retreat, Harold's Cross. This house became his\nhead-quarters for some time, for we find him returning thither after a\nmission in Kenilworth, and one in Liverpool, as well as a retreat for\nnuns, which closes his labours for the year 1856.\n\n\n{458}\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nFather Ignatius In 1857.\n\n\nSeven years, according to physiologists, make a total change in the\nhuman frame, such is the extent of the renewal; and although the laws\nof spirit do not follow those of matter, it may be a pleasing problem\nto find out how far there is an analogy. The chapter of 1850 was\nheaded like this; let us see if the events of both tell differently\nupon Father Ignatius.\n\nThe first event he records in the Journal for this year is the\nreception of Mrs. O'Neill into the Church. This good lady had then one\nson a Passionist; she was what might be called a very strict and\ndevoted Protestant, although all her children were brought up\nCatholics by her husband. She loved the son who first joined our order\nvery tenderly, and felt his becoming a monk so much that she would\nnever read one of his letters. The son was ordained priest in\nMonte-Argentaro, and the first news he heard after he had for the\nfirst time offered up the Holy Sacrifice, was that his mother had been\nreceived in our retreat in Dublin by Father Ignatius. She was induced\nby another son, who lived in Dublin, to attend benediction, and our\nLord gave her the grace of conversion with His blessing. She is now a\nfervent Catholic, and another son and a daughter have since followed\nthe example of their brother. The mother finds her greatest happiness\nin what once seemed her greatest affliction. Such is the power of\ngrace, always leading to joy through the bitterness of the cross.\n\nThe next event is the death of Father Paul Mary of St. Michael. This\nsaintly Passionist was the Honourable Charles Reginald Packenham, son\nof the Earl of Longford. He {459} became a convert when captain in the\nGuards, and shortly after joined our Institute. He was the first\nrector of Blessed Paul's Retreat, and having edified his brethren by\nhis humility and religious virtues for nearly six years, the term of\nhis life as a Passionist, died in the odour of sanctity. He had been\nailing for some time, but still able to do a little in the way of\npreaching and confessions. It was advertised that he would preach in\nGardiner Street, Dublin, on Sunday, March 1. He died that day at one\no'clock A.M., and Father Ignatius went to preach in his stead; it\ncreated a sensation when the good father began by asking prayers for\nthe repose of the soul of him whose place he came to fill.\n\nIn a letter Father Ignatius wrote at this time we have his opinion of\nFather Paul Mary: \".... As to the Passionists, I do not think those\nwho managed our coming here (to Dublin) which was all done during my\nabsence in Germany, had any idea of serving England. I believe the\nprime instigator of the move was Father Paul Mary, who was born in\nDublin, and was through and through an Irishman in his affections,\nthough trained in England. He, to the last, had all the anti-English\nfeelings, which prevail so much through Ireland, and never would give\nme the least hope of his being interested for England. I fall in,\nnotwithstanding that, with all the notions of his great virtue and\nholiness which others have; and I think, moreover, that the best\nCatholics in Ireland are to be found among those who have been the\nmost bitterly prejudiced against England. But I think there is in\nreserve for them another great step in advance when they lay down this\naversion and turn it into divine charity in a heroic degree.\"\n\nFather Ignatius always felt keenly Father Paul Mary's not taking up\nhis ideas about England with more warmth. When he was on his\ndeath-bed, Father Ignatius spent many hours sitting by him. In one of\ntheir last conversations, Father Ignatius urged his pleas for England\nas strongly as he could; when he had done, and was waiting for the\neffect, Father Paul said, in a dry, cold manner: \"I don't think\nIreland has got anything to thank England for.\" These words were\nperpetually ringing in the ears of Father {460} Ignatius; they were\nthe last Father Paul ever said on the subject, and the other used to\nsay: \"Oh, I used to enjoy his beautiful conversation so much, but I\nnever could hear one single kind word for England.\"\n\nThis year a general chapter of our Congregation was held in Rome. This\nis an important event, and only occurs every six years. It is here the\nhead superiors are elected, points of rule explained, and regulations\nenacted for the better ordering of the different houses all over the\nworld, according to circumstances of time and place. The Provincial\nand the two Consultors of each Province are obliged to attend. Father\nIgnatius was therefore called to travel abroad once more. When in\nRome, he employed all the time that was left from capitular duties in\nholding conferences with our students, and trying to get some papers\nhe brought with him approved. Among others, he brought the paper that\nwas \"kicked\" by Father Jaudel, and condemned by one of our\ntheologians. The only one in Rome who approved of it was the Abbate\nPassaglia. Cardinal Barnab\u00f2 listened to all Father Ignatius had to\nurge in its favour; but did not approve of it. He had to return\nwithout gaining anything this time; except that the Roman Lector was\nbecome his Provincial. In a few years afterwards, when we read of\nPassaglia's fall, Father Ignatius was heard to say: \"Passaglia and\nD\u00f6llinger were the only theologians who approved of my paper. I\nsuppose I need not flatter myself much upon their _imprimatur_.\"\n\nHe was remarked to be often abstracted when he had many crosses to\nbear. One day he was going through Rome with one of our Religious, and\npassed by a fountain. He went over and put his hand so far into one of\nthe jets, that he squirted the water over a number of poor persons who\nwere basking in the sun a few steps beneath him. They made a stir, and\nuttered a few oaths as the water kept dashing down on them. The\ncompanion awoke Father Ignatius out of his reverie, and so unconscious\ndid he seem of the disturbance he had unwittingly created, that he\npassed on without alluding to it.\n\nOn his return home now, as Second Consultor, he is sent {461} to beg\nagain in Ireland. He makes the circuit of Connaught this time. He\ntook, in his journey, Roscommon, Castlerea, visits the O'Connor Don,\nBoyle, Sligo. Here he was received very kindly by the Bishop and\nclergy. He had for guide in Sligo, a Johnny Doogan, who seems to have\namused him very much. This good man was chief respondent at the\nRosary, which used to be said every evening in the church. One night\nthe priest began, \"Incline unto my aid, O Lord.\" No answer. \"Where are\nyou, Johnny Doogan?\" asked the priest. Johnny, who was a little more\nthan distracted in some corner of the church, replied, as if suddenly\nawoke: \"Here I am, your Reverence, and 'my tongue shall announce thy\npraise.'\" He next passes along through Easky and Cullinamore to\nBallina. He gives a retreat to the Sisters of Mercy here, and during\nit, makes an excursion to Enniscrone. He went next to Ballycastle,\nKillala, Castlebar. Here he went to visit his cousin, Lord Lucan, and\nis very kindly received. During the course of conversation, he asked\nLord Lucan if he had not heard of his conversion? \"Oh yes,\" he\nreplied, \"I heard you were wavering some thirty years ago.\" \"But I\nhave not wavered since,\" replied Father Ignatius. He then went to\nBallinrobe, Westport, Tuam, Athenry, and back to Dublin, by Mullingar.\nThis tour took nearly two months. He gives a retreat in the beginning\nof September to the nuns of Gorey, and after it, begs through Wexford,\nand the southwest portion of Leinster. The only thing remarkable about\nthese excursions is, that he notes once, \"I am ashamed to think that I\nhave not begged of any poor people to-day.\"\n\nIn December, 1857, his brother Frederick, Lord Spencer, died. This\nbrother was Father Ignatius's companion at school, and it is\nremarkable that he was the only one of the family who used any kind of\nseverity towards him. He says, in a letter written at this time, \"I am\ntwelve years an exile from Althorp.\" Shortly before the Earl died, he\nrelented, and invited Father Ignatius to stay at the family seat a few\ndays. The letter joyfully accepting the invitation was read by the\nbrother on his bed of death. It is only right to observe that the\npresent Earl has been the kindest {462} of all, and treated his uncle\nwith distinguished kindness for the few years he was left to him. He\neven gave him back the portion of his income which his father diverted\nto other uses.\n\nAnother letter he wrote in December, gives an idea of his spirit of\nresignation. It seems a Rev. Mother wrote to him in a state of alarm\nthat some of the sisters were inclined to go away. Here is a part of\nhis answer: \"I will see what I can do with the sisters who are in the\nmood to kick, bite, or run away. If they take to running, never mind\nhow many go, let them all go, with _God bless them, and thank God they\nare gone_, and we will hope their room will be worth as much as their\ncompany.\"\n\nLest the allusion to his exile from Althorp might be taken in a wrong\nsense, it is well to give a passage from a letter Father Ignatius\nwrote after the death of his brother. \"I dare say you have not heard\nthat just before my brother's death I had written to him about a case\nof distress, which he had before been acquainted with, telling him, at\nthe same time, of what I was about, and among other things, that I was\ngoing to London to open a mission in Bermondsey on the 10th of\nJanuary. He sent me \u00a33 for the person I wrote about, and invited me to\nstop at Althorp a couple of nights on my way, not demanding any\npositive promise about religion as beforetime, but only saying that he\nthought I might come as a private friend without seeing it necessary\nto hold spiritual communications with the people in the neighbourhood.\nI answered that I would come with pleasure on these terms, and that\neven if he had said nothing, prudence would dictate to me to act as he\nwished. This was a most interesting prospect to me, after my twelve\nyears' exile from that home, and I intended to come on the 7th of\nJanuary. It was only a day or two before my leaving Dublin for this\njourney, that I was shown a notice in the paper of his death, and the\nnext day had a letter about it from my sister. He must have received\nmy letter on the very day that he was taken ill. These are remarkable\ncircumstances. What will Providence bring out of them?\" {463} He felt\nthe death of this brother very much, and was known to shed tears in\nabundance when relating the sad news to some of his friends. He said\nvery sadly, \"I gave myself up to three days' sorrowing for my dear\nbrother Frederick, but I took care to thank God for the affliction.\"\n\n\n{464}\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nHis \"Little Missions.\"\n\n\nOn the 21st of June, 1858, Father Ignatius began to give short\nretreats, which he designated \"little missions.\" This was his work the\nremaining six years of his life; anything else we find him doing was\nlike an exception.\n\nThe work proposed in these missions was what has been already\ndescribed in the chapter on the sanctification of the Irish people. He\nwanted to abolish all their vices, which he reduced to three capital\nsins, and sow the seeds of perfect virtue upon the ground of their\ndeep and fertile faith. Since he took up the notion that Ireland was\ncalled to keep among the nations the title of _Island of Saints_,\nwhich had once been hers, he could never rest until he saw it\neffected. He seems to have been considering for a number of years the\nmeans by which this should be brought about, and he hit upon a happy\nthought in 1858.\n\nThis thought was the way of impregnating the minds of all the Irish\npeople with his ideas. He found that missions were most powerful means\nof moving people in a body to reconciliation with God, and an\namendment of life. He perceived that the words of the missionaries\nwere treasured up, and that the advices they gave were followed with a\nscrupulous exactness. Missions were the moving power, but how were\nthey to enter into all the corners of a kingdom? Missions could only\nbe given in large parishes, and all priests did not set so high a\nvalue upon their importance as those who asked for them. If he could\nconcentrate the missionary power into something less solemn, but of\nlike efficacy, and succeed in carrying that out, he thought it would\nbe just {465} the thing. This train of deliberation resulted in the\n\"little missions.\"\n\nA \"little mission\" is a new mode of renewing fervour; Father Ignatius\nwas the originator and only worker in it of whom we have any record.\nIt was half a week of missionary work in every parish--that is, three\ndays and a half of preaching and hearing confessions. Two sermons in\nthe day were as much as ever Father Ignatius gave, and the hours in\nthe confessional were as many as he could endure.\n\nThis kind of work had its difficulties. The whole course of subjects\nproper to a mission could not be got through, neither could all the\npenitents be heard. Father Ignatius met these objections. \"The eternal\ntruths,\" as such, he did not introduce. He confined himself to seven\nlectures, in which the crying evils, with their antidotes, were\nintroduced. As far as the confessions were concerned, he followed the\nrule of moral theologians that a confessor is responsible only for the\npenitent kneeling before him, and not for those whose confession he\nhas not begun. He heard all he could.\n\nHis routine of daily work on these little missions was to get up at\nfive, and hear confessions all day until midnight, except whilst\nsaying mass and office, giving his lecture and taking his meals. He\ntook no recreation whatever, and if he chatted any time after dinner\nwith the priest, the conversation might be considered a continuation\nof his sermon. At a very moderate calculation he must have spent at\nleast twelve hours a day in the confessional. Some of these apostolic\nvisits he prolonged to a week when circumstances required. He gave 245\nof these missions from June, 1858, to September, 1864; he was on his\nway to the 246th when he died. A rough calculation will show us that\nhe must have spent about twenty-two weeks every year in this\nemployment. Let us just think of forty journeys, in cold and heat,\nfrom parish to parish, sometimes on foot, sometimes on conveyances,\nwhich chance put in his way. Let us follow him when he has strapped\nhis bags upon his shoulder, after his mass, walking off nine or ten\nmiles, in {466} order to be in time to begin in another parish that\nevening. Let us see the poor man trying to prevent his feeling pain\nfrom his sore feet by walking a little faster, struggling, with\numbrella broken, against rain and wind, dust, a bad road, and a way\nunknown to add to his difficulties. He arrives, he lays down his\nburden, puts on his habit, takes some dinner, finishes his office,\npreaches his first discourse, and sits in the confessional until\nhalf-past eleven o'clock. Let us try to realize what this work must\nhave been, and we shall have an idea of the six last years of Father\nIgnatius Spencer's life.\n\nWe give a few extracts from his letters, as they will convey an idea\nof how he felt and wrought in this great work.\n\nOn the 10th of August, 1858, he writes from the convent in Kells,\nwhere he was helping the nuns through their retreat:--\n\n  \"I have an hour and a half before my next sermon at 7; all the nuns'\n  confessions are finished, and all my office said; I have therefore\n  time for a letter. I have not had such an afternoon as this for many\n  months. The people of this town seem to think the convent an\n  impregnable fortress, and do not make an assault upon me in it. If I\n  was just to show myself in the church I should be quickly\n  surrounded. The reflections which come upon me this quiet afternoon\n  are not so bright and joyous as you might expect, perhaps, from the\n  tone of my letter to M ----, but rather of a heavy afflicting\n  character; but all the better, all the better. This is wholesome,\n  and another stage in my thoughts brings me to very great\n  satisfaction out of this heaviness. I do not know whether I shall\n  explain myself to you. I see myself here so alone, though the people\n  come upon me so eagerly, so warmly, and, I may say, so lovingly; yet\n  I have not one on whom I can think as sympathising with me. I see\n  the necessity of a complete radical change in the spirit of the\n  people, the necessity, I mean, in order to have some prospect of\n  giving the cause of truth its victory in England, and making this\n  Irish people permanently virtuous and happy. This is what I am\n  preaching from place to place, and aiming at instilling into the\n  people's minds in the confessional, at {467} dinner-tables, in cars\n  on the road, as well as in preaching; and, while I aim at it, the\n  work is bright enough.\"\n\nOct. 11, 1860, he writes:\n\n  \"I can hardly understand how I can go on for any long time more as I\n  am doing, and not find some capable and willing to enter into them.\n  Here I am through the 112th parish, with the same proposals which no\n  one objects to, but no one enters into nor seems to understand.\"\n\nMay 6, 1861.--\n\n  \"It seems my lot to be moving about as long as I can move. I am very\n  happy in the work I am about when I am at it, but I have always to\n  go through regret and sorrow before moving, particularly when\n  leaving my home. ... I have now gone through 132 parishes. No\n  movement yet, such as I am aiming at. It always goes on in the form\n  of most interesting missionary work, and is a most agreeable way of\n  doing my begging work. I have been through 123 of these parishes\n  without asking a penny from any one, but they bring me on an average\n  more than \u00a321 a parish in _Ireland_. I have worked through eleven\n  parishes in the diocese of Salford (England) out of that number, and\n  these do not yield half the fruit of the Irish missions in point of\n  money, but are otherwise very satisfactory.''\n\nIn a letter written in December of the same year:\n\n  \"I am preparing for another year's work like the last, going from\n  parish to parish through Ireland, collecting for our Order, and at\n  the same time stirring the people to devote themselves to their\n  sanctification. They give their money very generously, they listen\n  kindly to my sermons, and I never have a minute idle in hearing\n  confessions; but hitherto there is no attention such as I wish paid\n  to my proposals. I have made these little missions now in 160\n  parishes in Ireland, and to eleven Irish congregations in England. I\n  am, thank God, in as good plight as ever I was in my life for this\n  kind of work, and this seems to give a hope that I may at length see\n  the effect of it as I wish, or the fruit may spring up when I am\n  dead and buried. If death comes upon me in this way, I will at least\n  rejoice for myself that I am dying more like our Lord than if I\n  finished my course {468} crowned with the most brilliant successes;\n  for when He died people would say He had utterly failed, but He was\n  just then achieving His victory. Whatever way things take we cannot\n  be disappointed if we keep faithful to God.\"\n\nThe lovingness described as subsisting between himself and his dear\nIrish people gave rise to many incidents, amongst which the following\nis rather peculiar. At one place, where he had just concluded a little\nmission, the people gathered round him when he was about to go away.\nHe heard many say, \"What will we do when he is gone?\" and several\nother exclamations betokening their affliction at having to part from\nhim. He turned round and asked all he saw to accompany him to the\nrailway station. When they arrived there he addressed them again in\nsomething like these words: \"Now, stand here until you see the train\nstart, and when it is out of sight, I want you all to say, '_Thank\nGod, he is gone_.'\"\n\nHe met a great many refusals and cold receptions on these missionary\ntours, but in general he was very well received. The exceptions were\ndear to him, as they were profitable to himself, and he seldom spoke\nof them unless there was some special lesson they were calculated to\nconvey.\n\n\n{469}\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nFather Ignatius At Home.\n\n\nThe work of the little missions kept Father Ignatius very much away\nfrom the community. His visits at home were like meteor flashes,\nbright and beautiful, and always made us regret we could not enjoy his\nedifying company for a longer time. Those who are much away on the\nexternal duties of the Order find the rule a little severe when they\nreturn; to Father Ignatius it seemed a small heaven of refreshing\nsatisfaction. His coming home was usually announced to the community a\nday or two before, and all were promising themselves rare treats from\nhis presence amongst them. It was cheering to see the porter run in,\nbeaming with joy, as he announced the glad tidings, \"Father Ignatius\nis come.\" The exuberance of his own delight as he greeted, first one,\nand then another of his companions, added to our own joy. In fact, the\nday Father Ignatius came home almost became a holiday by custom. Those\ndays were; and we feel inclined to tire our readers by expatiating on\nthem, as if writing brought them back.\n\nWhenever he arrived at one of our houses, and had a day or two to\nstay, it was usual for the younger religious, such as novices and\nstudents, to go to him, one by one, for conference. He liked this very\nmuch, and would write to higher Superiors for permission to turn off\nto Broadway, for instance, on his way to London, in order to make\nacquaintance with the young religious. His counsels had often a\nlasting effect; many who were inclined to leave the life they had\nchosen remained steadfast, after a conference with him. He did not\ngive common-place solutions to difficulties, but he had some peculiar\nphrase, some quaint axiom, some droll {470} piece of spirituality, to\napply to every little trouble that came before him. He was specially\nhappy in his fund of anecdote, and could tell one, it was believed, on\nany subject that came before him. This extraordinary gift of\nconversational power made the _Conferences_ delightful. The novices,\nwhen they assembled in recreation, and gave their opinions on Father\nIgnatius, whom many had spoken to for the first time in their life,\nnearly all would conclude, \"If there ever was a saint, he's one.\"\n\nIt was amusing to observe how they prepared themselves for forming\ntheir opinion. They all heard of his being a great saint, and some\nfancied he would eat nothing at all for one day, and might attempt a\nlittle vegetables on the next. One novice, in particular, had made up\nhis mind to this, and, to his great surprise, he saw Father Ignatius\neat an extra good breakfast; and, when about to settle into a rash\njudgment, he saw the old man preparing to walk seven miles to a\nrailway station on the strength of his meal. Another novice thought\nsuch a saint would never laugh nor make anybody else laugh; to his\nagreeable disappointment, he found that Father Ignatius brought more\ncheerfulness into the recreation than had been there for some time.\n\nIn one thing Father Ignatius did not go against anticipation; he was\nmost exact in the observance of our rules. He would be always the\nfirst in for the midnight office. Many a time the younger portion of\nthe community used to make arrangements overnight to be in before him,\nbut it was no use. Once, indeed, a student arrived in choir before\nhim, and Father Ignatius appeared so crestfallen at being beaten that\nthe student would never be in before him again, and might delay on the\nway if he thought Father Ignatius had not yet passed. He seemed\nparticularly happy when he could light the lamps or gas for matins. He\nwas childlike in his obedience. He would not transgress the most\ntrifling regulation. It was usual with him to say, \"I cannot\nunderstand persons who say, 'Oh, I am all right if I get to\nPurgatory.' We should be more generous with Almighty God. I don't\nintend to go to Purgatory, and if I do, I must know what for.\" \"But,\nFather Ignatius,\" a father would say, {471} \"we fall into so many\nimperfections that it seems presumption to attempt to escape scot\nfree.\" \"Well,\" he would reply, \"nothing can send us to Purgatory but a\nwilful venial sin, and may the Lord preserve us from such a thing as\nthat; a religious ought to die before being guilty of the least wilful\nfault.\" We saw from this that he could scarcely imagine how a\nreligious could do so, or, at least, that he was very far from the\nlike himself.\n\nOne time we were speaking about the Italian way of pronouncing Latin,\nwhich we have adopted; he noticed some imperfections, and one of the\nItalian Fathers present remarked a few points in which Father Ignatius\nhimself failed. One of them was, that he did not pronounce the letter\n_r_ strong enough; and another, that he did not give a its full sound\nwhen it came in the middle of a word. For some time it was observed\nthat he made a most burring sound when he pronounced an _r_, and went\nso far in correcting himself in the other particular as to sin against\nprosody. Sometimes he would forget little rubrics, but if any one told\nhim of a mistake, he was scarcely ever seen to commit it again.\n\nWhenever he had half an hour to spare he wrote letters. We may form an\nidea of his achievements in this point, when he tells us in the\nJournal that on two days which remained free to him once he wrote\nseventy-eight. A great number of his letters are preserved. They are\nvery entertaining and instructive; a nice vein of humour runs through\nall those he wrote to his familiar friends.\n\nThese two letters may be looked upon as the extremes of the sober and\nhumorous style in his letter-writing:--\n\n  \"When I used to call on you, you seemed to be tottering, as one\n  might say, on your last legs. Here you are, after so many years,\n  without having ever seen health or prosperity, and with about as\n  much life in you as then, to all appearance. All has been, all is,\n  and all will be, exactly as it pleases God. This is the truth, the\n  grand truth, I would almost say the whole and only truth. There may\n  be, and are, plenty of things besides, which may be truly affirmed,\n  yet this is the whole of what it concerns us each to know. For if\n  this is once well understood, of course it follows that we {472}\n  have but one affair to attend to, that is, to please God; because\n  then, to a certainty, all the past, present, and future will be\n  found to be perfectly and absolutely ordered for our own greatest\n  good. If this one point be well studied, I think we can steer people\n  easily enough out of all low spirits and melancholy. Many people can\n  see the hand of God over them in wonderful mercy in their past\n  history, and so be brought to a knowledge that their anxieties, and\n  afflictions, and groans, in those bygone days were unreasonable\n  then. \"Why do they not learn to leave off groaning over the present\n  troubles? Because they do not trust God to manage anything right\n  till they have examined His work, and understood all about it. But\n  He, will be more honoured if we agree with Him, and approve of what\n  He does before we see what the good is which is to come of it. In\n  your case, if we go back to the days when I first saw you at ----,\n  when your father was in a good way of work, and you were in health,\n  there was the prospect then, I suppose, before you of getting well\n  settled in the world; and if all had continued smooth and\n  prosperous, you might now be a rich merchant's wife in Birmingham,\n  London, or New York, reckoned the ornament of a large circle of\n  wealthy friends, &c. But might there not, perhaps, have been written\n  over you as your motto? _Wo to you rich, for you have received your\n  consolation. Wo to you that laugh now for you shall mourn and weep_.\n  You may be disposed to answer, you do not think you would have been\n  spoiled by prosperity. But if you are more or less troubled or\n  anxious at being in poverty, sickness, or adversity, it shows that\n  you would be, just in the same measure, unable to bear prosperity\n  and health unhurt. Wealth and prosperity are dangerous to those only\n  who love them and trust in them. If, when you are in adversity, you\n  are sorry for it, and wish for prosperity, it shows love for this\n  world's goods, more or less. And if a person loves them when he has\n  them not, is it likely he would despise them if he had them? God\n  saves multitudes by poverty and afflictions in spite of themselves.\n  The same poverty and afflictions, if the persons corresponded with\n  God's providence and rejoiced in them, would make them {473}\n  first-rate saints. The same may be said, with as great truth, of\n  interior afflictions, scruples, temptations, darkness, dryness, and\n  the rest of the catalogue of such miseries. A person who is\n  disquieted and anxious on account of these, either does not\n  understand that God's gifts are not God, or if they do understand\n  it, they love the gifts of God independently of the giver. And so I\n  add that such a one, if he enjoyed uninterrupted peace and serenity\n  of soul, would stop very short indeed of the perfection of love to\n  which God intends to lead him if he will be docile. Now, as to your\n  case, if you are still alive and still serving God, and desiring to\n  do so better and better, it is clear that your afflictions, exterior\n  and interior, have not spoiled or ruined you. And as God loves our\n  peace and happiness, we may conclude that he would not have kept you\n  down and low, if it had not been necessary for your good. What have\n  you to do at last? Begin again to thank, praise, bless, adore, and\n  glorify God for all the tribulations, past and future, and he may\n  yet strengthen and preserve you to do abundance of good, and lay up\n  a great treasure in heaven.\"\n\nThe next letter is to a nun about a book which was supposed to be\nlost:--\n\n  \"The second perpetual calendar has been found. I had no thought it\n  would; but took my chance to ask, and somebody had seen it, and it\n  was looked for again and found. It has been a clumsy bit of business\n  on our part; but it ends right. It gives another example of the\n  wisdom of a certain young shepherdess celebrated in the nursery in\n  my early days--\n\n       \"'Little Bopeep\n         Has lost her sheep,\n    And doesn't know where to find them.\n         Let them alone,\n         And they'll come home,\n    And bring their tails behind them.'\n\n  \"There is great philosophy in the advice given to the heroine of\n  these lines.\n\n  \"It seems by what you said the other day, that you {474} expected a\n  long tail to this sheep, but I don't think the tail ever grew. Any\n  way, it never brought a tail so far as this house. However, if there\n  does exist a tail to it, I recommend to you the calm philosophy of\n  little Bo-peep, and it will, I dare say, follow in time.\"\n\nThe little rhyme given above was a favourite with Father Ignatius.\nWhen he saw any one looking for a thing with anxiety he generally\nrhymed it out with peculiar emphasis. It might be safely said that he\nnever wrote a letter, preached a sermon, or held a conversation\nwithout introducing resignation to the will of God, the desire of\nperfection, or the conversion of England.\n\nAs he was always a Superior, the religious could come to him and speak\nwhenever they pleased. He was ever ready to receive them, he laid down\nhis pen, or whatever else he might be at, directly he saw a brother or\nfather wished to speak to him, and he listened and spoke as if this\nconversation was the only duty he had to discharge.\n\nIn recreation he was a treasure. We gathered round him by a kind of\ninstinct, and so entertaining was he that one felt it a mortification\nto be called away from the recreation-room while Father Ignatius was\nin it. He used to recount with peculiar grace and fascinating wit,\nscenes he went through in his life. There is scarcely an incident in\nthis volume that we have not heard him relate. He was most ingenuous.\nAsk him what question you pleased, he would answer it, if he knew it.\nIn relating an anecdote he often spoke in five or six different tones\nof voice; he imitated the manner and action of those he knew to such\nperfection, that laughter had to pass into admiration. He seldom\nlaughed outright, and even when he did, he would very soon stop. If he\ncame across a number of _Punch_, he ran over some of the sketches at\nonce and then he would be observed to stop, laugh, and lay it down\ndirectly, as if to deny himself further enjoyment. It is needless to\nsay there was nothing rollicking, or off-handed in his wit--never; it\nwas subdued, sweet, delicate, and lively. He would introduce very\noften amusing puzzles, such as passing the poker around, or the game\nof \"He can do little who cannot do that, that, that.\" Then to see his\n{475} glee when some one thought he had found out the secret by his\nkeenness of observation, and was far from it; and how he laughed at\nthe _denouement_ of the mystery, when all was over, was really\ndelightful. He often made us try \"Theophilus Thistlethwick,\" and\n\"Peter Piper,\" and used to enjoy the blunders immensely. In fact, a\nrecreation, presided over by Father Ignatius, was the most innocent\nand gladsome one could imagine.\n\nHe had a few seasons of illness in the closing years of his life; in\n1861 he was laid up for several days with a sore foot, in Highgate.\nWhen one of us is ill, it is customary for the members of the house to\ntake turn about in staying with him, and we are allowed to go at all\ntimes to visit an invalid. Whenever Father Ignatius was asked how his\nfoot was, he would say it was \"very well,\" because it brought him some\npain, and that was a valuable thing if we only knew how to turn it to\ngood account. He felt very grateful for the smallest service done him\nin sickness. It is supposed that he wrote more letters during his\nillness, and held more \"profitable\" conversations than in any other\nequal period of his life. No one ever found him idle. He read, or he\nwrote, or he talked, or he prayed, or he slept. Lying awake and\nlistless in bed, even when suffering from acute pain, seemed an\nimperfection to him. Complaint was like a language he had forgotten,\nor knew not, except as one knows sin by the contrary virtue.\n\nHe suffered greatly from drowsiness. When he went to meditation he\nwould nod asleep, and the exertions he made to keep himself awake made\nus pity him. He would stand up, even sometimes on one foot, extend his\narms in the form of a cross, and do everything he could possibly think\nof in order to keep awake. During his rectorship in Button, after\nreturning from a sick call on a cold winter's evening, he was obliged\nto walk about saying his office. He dared not sit down, or he would go\noff asleep, and had to avoid going near a fire, or no effort could\nkeep him awake. Notwithstanding this, he was the first to matins, and\nseldom went to bed again before prime. When others were ill, Father\nIgnatius was all charity; he would make sure first that {476} they\ntook their sickness in a right spirit, and thanked God for it, then he\nwould see that all kinds of attention were paid to them. As for sick\ncalls, no matter at what hour of the day or night they came, he would\nbe the first to go out and attend them. He liked assisting at\ndeath-beds; he felt particular pleasure in helping people to heaven.\n\nHe received all kinds of visitors. He went immediately to see any one\nthat wanted to speak to him, and never kept them a moment waiting if\nhe could possibly help it. When distinguished visitors were coming he\ndid not make the least preparation, but just treated them like any one\nelse. His sister promised to visit him in Highgate in December, 1859.\nNeither she nor any member of his family had ever been in one of our\nmonasteries; he therefore looked upon this as a kind of event. Father\nIgnatius had a wretched old mantle, and one of the students went to\nhim to offer him his, which was quite new, for the day. He would not\nat all accept of it, and lectured the other upon human respect for his\npains.\n\nHe was very fond of conducting the walk the students take every week.\nHe brought the London students often through the City, and wonderful\nwas his knowledge and reminiscences of the different places they\npassed by. He took them once to the Zoological Gardens. They went\nabout looking at the different beasts, and he had his comments to make\non each. He drew a moral reflection from the voraciousness of the\nlion, the fierceness of the hyaena, the vanity of the seal, and the\nstupor of the sloth. When he saw the flamingo, he stayed full ten\nminutes wondering what might be the use of its long, thin legs. The\nhippopotamus amused him beyond all. \"Look at his big mouth,\" he would\nsay; \"what in the world does he want it for? Couldn't he eat enough\nwith a smaller one?\" During their walks, a lord, perhaps, would turn\nup, and address him as, \"Ho, Spencer! is this you? How d'ye do? It is\nsome years since I saw you?\" After a few words they would part, and\nthen he'd tell his companions about their college days, or field\nsports.\n\n\n{477}\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nA Few Events.\n\n\nIn 1858 we procured the place in Highgate, known now as St. Joseph's\nRetreat. The Hyde was never satisfactory; it was suited neither to our\nspirit nor its working. At last Providence guided us to a most\nsuitable position. Our rule prescribes that the houses of the Order\nshould be outside the town, and near enough to be of service to it.\nHighgate is wonderfully adapted to all the requisitions of our rule\nand constitutions. Situated on the brow of a hill, it is far enough\nfrom the din and noise of London to be comparatively free from its\nturmoil, and sufficiently near for citizens to come to our church. The\ngrounds are enclosed by trees; a hospital at one end and two roads\nmeeting at the other, promise a freedom from intrusion and a\ncontinuance of the solitude we now enjoy. Father Ignatius concludes\nthe year 1858 in Highgate; it was his first visit to the new house.\n\nTowards the end of the next year we find him once more in France with\nour Provincial. They went on business interesting to the Order, and\nwere nearly three weeks away. Father Ignatius ends another year in\nHighgate. It was then he translated the small \"Life of Blessed Paul\"\nfrom the Italian, a work he accomplished in about one month with the\nassistance of an _amanuensis_.\n\nHe gave a mission with three of the fathers in Westland Row, Dublin,\nin the beginning of the year 1860, and started off immediately after\nfor his circuit of little missions. Our Provincial Chapter was held\nthis year, but all were re-elected; so Father Ignatius remained as he\nwas, second Consultor. It was this year he visited Althorp, after an\nabsence of eighteen years from the home of his childhood. This visit\n{478} he looked back to with a great deal of satisfaction, and his joy\nwas increased when Lord and Lady Sarah Spencer returned his visit in\nHighgate, when he happened to be there, the next year. The friendly\nrelations between him and his family seemed, if possible, to become\ncloser and more cordial towards the end of his life.\n\nHe told us one day in recreation, when some one asked what became of\nthe lady he was disposed to be married to, once in his life: \"I passed\nby her house a few days ago. I believe her husband is a very excellent\nman, and that she is happy.\"\n\nIn 1862 he visited Althorp again. We saw him looking for a lock for\none of his bags before he left Highgate for this visit, and some one\nasked him why he was so particular just then. \"Oh,\" he said, \"don't\nyou know the servant in the big house will open it, in order to put my\nshaving tackle, brush, and so forth in their proper places, and I\nshould not like to have a general stare at my habit, beads, and\nsandals.\" There was, however, a more general stare at them than he\nexpected. During the visit, the volunteer corps were entertained by\nLord Spencer. Father Ignatius was invited to the grand dinner; he sat\nnext the Earl, and nothing would do for the latter but that his uncle\nshould make a speech. Father Ignatius stood up in _his_ regimentals,\nhabit, sandals, &c., and made, it seems, a very patriotic one.\n\nThis visit to Althorp Father Ignatius loved to recall to mind. It was\na kind of thing that he could not enjoy at the time, so far did it go\nbeyond his expectations. He went merely for a friendly visit, and\nfound a great many old friends invited to increase his pleasure. When\nthe ladies and gentlemen went off to dress for dinner, it is said that\nFather Ignatius told Lady Spencer that he supposed his full dress\nwould not be quite in place at the table; he was told it would, and\nthat all would be much delighted to see a specimen of the fashions he\nhad learnt since his days of whist and repartee in the same hall. At\nthe appointed time he presented himself in the dining-room in full\nPassionist costume. Lord Spencer was quite proud of his uncle, and the\nspeech, and the cheer with which it was greeted at the {479}\nVolunteers' dinner only enhanced the mutual joy of uncle and nephew.\n\nAs usual, this joy was tempered, and the alloy was administered by a\nclergyman, who evidently intended to get himself a name by putting\nhimself into print in one of the local papers. This was a Mr. Watkins.\nHe wrote a letter to the _Northampton Herald_, containing a great deal\nof shallow criticism and ignorant remarks on Father Ignatius, and a\nsermon he preached at the opening of the cathedral. A smart paper\nwarfare was carried on for some time between the two, which earned the\nRev. Mr. Watkins the disapproval, if not the disgust, of his\nProtestant clerical and lay neighbours. This was rather a surprise, as\nall the old acquaintances of the _quondam_ Mr. Spencer had the highest\nregard for him; but this writer seems to have been one who never had\nthe opportunity of forming a just opinion of his abilities or\ncharacter. Ignorance may excuse his blunders, but the longest stretch\nof charity can scarcely overlook his manner of committing them.\n\nAfter the visit to Althorp, Father Ignatius went to see Mr. De Lisle\nat Grace Dieu, and was present at the blessing of the present Abbot of\nMount St. Bernard's. The secretary of the A. P. U. C. sent him another\nletter after this visit, which met the fate of similar communications\non former occasions.\n\nWe find him in the beginning of the year 1863 in Liverpool, engaged in\na mission at St. Augustine's.\n\nAfter this mission he came to Highgate, on his way to Rome for our\ngeneral chapter, and the few days he had on his hands before his\ndeparture were spent in visiting Lord Palmerston, Mr. Gladstone, and\nother notabilities, as well as receiving a visit from his nephew.\n\nHe arrived in Rome for the last time on the 22nd April, 1863. How\nstrangely do his different visits to this city combine to give an idea\nof the stages of opinion through which his chequered life was fated to\npass. In 1821, he entered it, promising himself a feast of\nabsurdities, determined to sneer at what he did not understand, and\nrepel by his thick shield of prejudice whatever might force itself\n{480} upon him as praiseworthy. He found something in his next visit\nin the pagan remains to please his Protestant taste, and left it for\nGermany with a kind of regret. In less than ten years he is there to\ndespise the glory of the Caesars, and thinks more of a chapel which\nPeter's successor has endowed or adorned, than the platforms on which\nthe fangs of the leopard tore the flower of our martyrs. His other\nvisits were mostly official. He came glowing with the fervour of new\nprojects, and left with only their embers generating a new step in his\nspiritual progress. Rome was always Rome, but he was not always the\nsame. Any one who takes the trouble to compare his different visits\nwith each other cannot fail to learn a lesson that will be more\ntelling on his mind, than what comments upon them by another's pen\ncould produce.\n\nThe General Chapter Father Ignatius was called to attend in 1863 had\nto deal with subjects that deeply concerned the interests of our\nOrder. In this Chapter, our American province was canonically erected\nin the United States. A colony of ten Passionists was sent to\nCalifornia, and the Hospice of St. Nicholas, in Paris, established.\nFather Ignatius had, as usual, some papers to submit to the Roman\nCuria. The work to which his \"little missions\" were devoted had not\nyet received the seal of the Fisherman, and, until it was so blessed,\nits excellence could be a subject of doubt. He did receive the\npontifical benediction for this, and for the institution of a new\ncongregation of nuns, and began to enjoy the riches of this twofold\nblessing before he took his departure from the Eternal City.\n\nFather Ignatius, ever himself, did not lose sight of lesser claims on\nhis gratitude in the greater ones his zeal proposed to him. There was\na family whom he had received into the Church during the course of his\nlabours on the secular mission. The father, and four daughters, and a\nson, were all baptized by him. They were his great joy. He first\nreceived one girl, then the father, then another (who dreaded to speak\nto him), a third, and a fourth yielded to his charity and meekness in\nfollowing the workings of grace. For them he always entertained a\nspecial regard, he would stay with {481} them when missionary work\ncalled him to a town in which they dwelled, and delighted to caress\ntheir children, edify themselves, and make himself at home in their\ndwellings during his stay. He obtained a rescript granting them a\n\"plenary indulgence,\" signed by the Holy Father himself, which is\nstill treasured up as a beautiful heirloom in their families. These\nfavoured objects of his predilection were Mrs. Macky, of Birmingham;\nMrs. Richardson and Mrs. Marshall, of Levenshulme, Manchester.\n\nBefore leaving Rome in 1863 he preached to nuns and schools, upon the\nconversion of England, with the same zeal as he did in 1850, if not\nwith greater. That leading star lived with him; it is to be hoped it\nhas not died with him. If the nineteenth century were an age of faith,\nand that the belief in God's miraculous interposition would move any\nto make experiments of holy wonders, we should expect to find engraved\non his heart after death: \"The Conversion of England!\"\n\nOn June 21, after exactly two months' stay, he left the terrestrial\nRome, or city of God, for ever. He arrives in London on the 3rd\nAugust, visits convents for his \"crusade,\" now doubly dear to him;\ncommunicates his glad tidings to the infant congregations of nuns of\nSutton, and holds himself in readiness for the approaching provincial\nchapter. The nuns here mentioned are a society established, a few\nyears before, by our Father Gaudentius. Their primary object is the\ncare and instruction of factory girls, their subsidiary one, the plain\ninstruction of poor children.\n\nFather Ignatius loved this institute. One of his common sayings was,\n\"I do not understand how a girl with a wooden leg, no means and great\ndocility, cannot make the evangelical vows,\" and he found himself at\nhome with a sisterhood where his problem would be solved in part at\nleast. He brought their rules to Rome, at this time, and received all\nthe Pontifical sanctions he could possibly expect under the\ncircumstances.\n\nOn August 21 of this year, our Provincial Chapter was held at\nBroadway. Here Father Ignatius was elected Rector of St. Anne's\nRetreat, Sutton. He entered on the {482} office with a great deal of\nzeal and courage. In his first exhortation to the religious, he\nremarked that \"new brooms sweep clean,\" but as he was a broom a little\nthe worse for wear, which had been trimmed up for action after having\nso long lain by, the aphorism could not apply so well to him. It was\nnine years since he had filled the office of rector before, and the\ninterval taught him many things regarding religious discipline which\nhe now brought into action.\n\nHis rule might be called _maternal_ rather than paternal, for it was\ncharacterized by the fondness of holy old age for youth. One change\nremarked in him, since his former rectorship, was, his spicing his\ngentle admonitions with a good deal of severity when occasion required\nit. He spoke to the community, after the evening recreation, once upon\nthe conversion of England, and the bright look the horizon of\nreligious opinion wore now in comparison to the time he first began\nhis crusade. He hoped great things for England. At this part of his\nlecture, some ludicrous occurrence, which he did not observe, made one\nof the younger religious laugh. Father Ignatius turned upon him, and\nspoke with such vehemence that all seemed as if struck by a\nthunderbolt. They never heard him speak in that way before, and it was\nthought by many that the meek father could not \"foam with\nindignation,\" even if he tried.\n\nTowards the close of 1863 he professed several of the nuns of the Holy\nFamily, for whom he had procured the indulgences at Rome, and he\nassisted at the deathbed of their first rev. mother early in 1864.\n\n\n{483}\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nTrials And Crosses.\n\n\nThe days of the religious life of Father Ignatius might be numbered by\nhis trials and crosses. It was not that a goodly share fell to him, as\nbecame his great holiness; but he happened to be so very keenly tried,\nthat what generally assuages the bitterness of ordinary trials served,\nby a special disposition of Providence, to make his the more galling.\nHis trials were multiplied in their infliction; the friends to whom he\nmight unburthen himself were often their unconscious cause; and the\nremedies proposed for his comfort would be generally an aggravation of\nhis sufferings. He had an abiding notion of his being alone and\nabandoned, which followed him like a shadow, even unto the grave. This\nfeeling arose from his spirit of zeal. He burned to be doing more and\nmore for God's glory every day, and sought to communicate to others\nsome sparks of the flames that consumed himself. His projects for\ncarrying out his ideas seldom met the cordial approval of superiors,\nand when he received such sanction, it was only after his schemes had\nbeen considerably toned down. This restraint he had always to bear.\n\nWhen his plans were tolerated, or even approved, he could not find one\nto take them up as warmly as he wished. In fact, he found no second.\nCatholics have an instinctive aversion to anything that wears the\nappearance of novelty in their devotions. Father Ignatius's plans for\nthe sanctification of Ireland, the conversion of England, and the\nperfection all should tend to, were very good things. No one could\nhave the least objection to them; but, somehow, every one could not\nsee his way to working them out. When {484} Father Ignatius proposed\nthe means he intended to adopt, the old Catholic shrugged his\nshoulders as if he had heard a temerarious proposition. It was new;\nthe good old bishop that gave his life for his flock, or the saintly\npriest he had listened to from childhood, never proposed such a thing.\nHe never read it in his books of piety, and though it seemed very\ngood, it \"did not go down with him.\" He listened to the holy\nPassionist, because he reverenced him; but he never encouraged his\nzeal with more than a cold assent.\n\nFather Ignatius found this want of correspondence to his suggestions\nin every person even his own brethren in religion failed to be of\naccord with him. He was perpetually speaking upon his favourite\ntopics, and never seemed satisfied with the work of his\nfellow-labourers if they did not take up his ideas. He often drew down\nupon himself severe animadversions on account of this state of mind.\nWhen fathers returned to the retreat, tired and wearied after a number\nof missions, they felt it rather hard to be told that they had done\nvery little, because they had not set about their work in his way. He\nwould be told very sharply that they should wish to see what he had\ndone himself; that his chimerical notions looked well on paper, or\nsounded nicely in talk; that there was a surer way of guiding people\nto heaven than talking them into fancies beyond their comprehension.\nThese remarks only served to bring out the virtue and humility of the\nsaintly man. He became silent at once, or turned the conversation into\nanother channel.\n\nHe had a still severer trial in this point. He very frequently\nattributed the caution of his superiors to want of zeal, and used to\nlecture them without human respect on what he thought to be their\nduty. On one occasion he went so far as to complain of this to\nCardinal Wiseman; but the explanation was so satisfactory that he gave\nexpression to different sentiments for the future. Whenever they spoke\npositively, he immediately acquiesced, and was most exact in carrying\nout their injunctions. His zeal was unbounded, and one of his\nsuperiors always said: \"Father Ignatius will become a saint by the\nvery thwarting of his plans.\" If he had not the virtue of submitting\nhis judgment, it is hard to {485} say into what extravagances he might\nrush. This one trial was the staple of his religious life for more\nthan thirty years.\n\nWe shall now give a few instances from his letters, and from anecdotes\nrecorded of him, to show the spirit with which he bore this and\nkindred trials and crosses.\n\nIn 1853 he received a very severe letter from one of our Belgian\nfathers, who is in high repute for learning and virtue. He forwarded\nthe letter to Father Eugene, who was then Provincial, accompanied by\nthese remarks:--\n\n  \"I thought of answering the enclosed letter from Father ---- at\n  once, before sending it to your Paternity; but, on looking it over\n  again, I have changed my mind. The rule which I make for myself is,\n  to mind what my superiors say on this matter and the conversion of\n  England, and to charge them to stop my proceedings if they\n  disapprove of them. I shall take what they say as coming from God,\n  who has a right to dispose of all souls, and who may judge that the\n  time for grace in England is not come, or never has to come.\n  Besides, they are the proper judges whether my proceedings are\n  correct _in toto_ or in part. Your Paternity has lately expressed\n  your mind upon the matter, and I have no scruple on the subject; but\n  it is well you should know what others feel. I beg you to take this\n  letter from Father ---- as kindly meant, and, with me, to be\n  thankful for it.\"\n\nAnother to his Provincial:--\n\n  \"With regard to the principal topic of your Paternity's letter, I\n  will first thank you, and thank God that I am thought worthy to be\n  spoken and written to, without dissimulation or reserve, of what\n  people think of me. If I make use with diligence of their remarks, I\n  shall be able to gain ground in the esteem of God, and, perhaps,\n  also in men's esteem; but that is not of consequence. Now, I suppose\n  it would be best not to have said so much in explanation of my\n  intentions in time past; and certainly I have said things which were\n  vexing in the course of these explanations. It is no justification\n  of this to allege that your Paternity's style of writing admonitions\n  and reproofs is more severe than that of some persons, because I\n  ought to receive {486} all with joy. But the cutting tone of some of\n  your letters excites me to answer more or less in a cutting tone on\n  my side, and I have given way to this temptation. It appears to me,\n  it would be better if with me and others your tone was not so\n  cutting. But God so appoints it for us, and so I had better prefer\n  his judgment to my own, and persevere correcting myself, till I can\n  answer cutting letters with the same gentle, affectionate language\n  as I might the mildest ones. In this way I shall be the greatest\n  gainer. So I will conclude with leaving it to your Paternity to\n  decide in what tone you will correct me--only begging that you will\n  not omit the correction when you see me in the wrong, and that you\n  will inflict it, for charity's sake, at the risk even of suffering\n  pain from my hasty and improper answers, which I cannot expect to\n  correct at once, though I will try to do it. Will you let me meet\n  you at the station when you pass through London, and accompany you\n  to the station for the Dover Railway?\"\n\nIn another letter, he writes:--\n\n  \"I am frequently assailed with black doubts about the prudence of\n  all my proceedings; but these pass by, and I go on again with\n  brighter spirits than ever, and, in the end, I am astonished how\n  Providence has carried me clear of danger and perplexities when they\n  have threatened me the most. I trust it will be so now.\n\n  \"I beg your Paternity will write to me again what you decide about\n  St. Wilfrid's functions, and tell me what I can do by writing\n  letters or otherwise. I feel better qualified to do what I am told,\n  than to give advice what others should do.\"\n\nAs may be seen from some of the letters introduced above, Father\nIgnatius had to endure trials from the want of sympathy with his ways,\nin many of the English converts. One celebrated convert went so far as\nto prohibit his speaking of the conversion of England to any of the\nmembers of a community of which he was Superior. Another used to tell\nhim that \"England was already damned,\" and that it was no use praying\nfor it. A third treated him to some sharp cuts about the work of his\nlittle {487} missions, when answering an application of Father\nIgnatius to give one in his parish. These and many other crosses of\nthe like nature, he used to complain of with deep feeling among his\nfellow religious. It is remarkable that those who crossed him had\ngreat respect for his holiness, and, very likely, their opposition\nproceeded from not giving him credit for much prudence.\n\nAn incident that happened to him in one of his journeys in Ireland\nwill give an idea of how he bore humiliations. He was walking to one\nof the principal towns in Tipperary, and a vehicle overtook him on the\nroad. The man in the car took compassion on the poor old priest, and\nasked him to \"take a lift.\" Father Ignatius took his seat at once;\nbefore they had proceeded far together, his companion perceived that\nhe spoke in an \"English accent,\" and began to doubt his being a\npriest. There had been some ugly rows in the town, lately, on account\nof a gang of \"soupers\" that infested it, and it struck the good\ntownsman that his waggon was carrying a veritable \"souper. \"What,\"\nthought he, \"if the neighbours should see me carrying such a precious\ncargo?\" And, without asking or waiting for an explanation, he\nunceremoniously told Father Ignatius \"to get down, for he suspected he\nwasn't of the right sort.\" Father Ignatius complied at once, without\nthe least murmur. When the man was about a mile ahead of his late\nfellow-traveller, and could not stifle the remorse occasioned by his\nhasty leave-taking, he resolved to turn back and catechise him. The\nresult satisfied him, and the good father was invited to take a seat a\nsecond time. To atone for his almost unpardonable crime, as he thought\nit, the man invited him to stay at his house for the night, as it was\nthen late. Father Ignatius said he was due at the priest's house, but\nin case he found nobody up there, he should be happy to avail himself\nof his friend's hospitality. They parted company in the town; Father\nIgnatius went to the priest's, and the other to his home. They were\nall in bed in the presbytery, and no answer was returned to the\nrepeated knocks and rings of the benighted traveller. He went to the\nfriend's house, but found _they_, too, were gone to bed. No word was\nleft about {488} Father Ignatius, and his strange accent made the\nhousewife refuse him admittance. He went off without saying a word in\nexplanation. The man bethought himself shortly after, and sent\nmessengers to seek him, who overtook him outside the town, walking off\nto the next, which he expected to reach before morning.\n\nAnother time he undertook the foundation of a convent in\nStaffordshire. With his usual indifference in matters temporal, he\nmade no material provision whatever for the reception of the sisters,\nexcept a bleak, unfurnished house. The reverend mother came, with\nthree or four sisters, and was rather disconcerted at what she found\nbefore them. Father Ignatius was expected in a day or two, and as the\ntime of his arrival approached, the reverend mother went into the\nreception-room, and there sate--\n\n    \"A sullen dame,\n  \"Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.\"\n\nFather Ignatius got a very hot reception. The lady scolded him\nheartily for his carelessness, and descanted most eloquently on the\nwants and grievances she had to endure since her arrival. He replied\ncalmly that it was not his fault, that that department of the\nproceedings devolved on the parish priest. This only fired her the\nmore--\"Why didn't he tell the parish priest?\" He then waited, quietly\nstanding until she had exhausted her stock of abuse; whereupon he\nasked if she had done, and on receiving a nod in the affirmative, he\nsaid: \"Oh, well, I know how I must approach your ladyship in future, I\nmust make three bows in the Turkish fashion.\" So saying, he bowed\nnearly to the ground, retreated a step and bowed again, a third step\nbackwards brought him to the door of the apartment, and when he had\nbowed still deeper than before, he stood up straight, took out a purse\nwith some sovereigns in it, and spun it to the corner of the room in\nwhich the good nun sat petrified with astonishment:--\"Take that now,\nand it may calm you a bit,\" was the good morning he bid her, as he\nclosed the door after him, and went his way.\n\nThe tongue of slander assailed him again the last year of {489} his\nlife. We will give the occurrence in the words of the only one to whom\nthe reverend mother told it in confidence. Father Ignatius himself\nnever spoke of it.\n\n  \"As our dear Lord loved him much, he wished to try him as he had\n  tried the dearest and best-beloved of his servants. Therefore he\n  permitted that his character should be assailed in the most vile\n  manner by one who, through mistaken zeal, gave out the most\n  injurious insinuations regarding our dear father and the late\n  reverend mother. When Father Ignatius heard of it, he sent for the\n  reverend mother to exhort her to bear the calumny with love and\n  resignation. In speaking to her he said that God had asked all of\n  him, and he had freely given all but his good name, and that he was\n  ready now to offer as it had pleased God to ask for it; for all\n  belonged to Him and he thanked Him for leaving him nothing. 'Will\n  you not.' he continued, 'do the same? Do you not see that God is\n  asking you for the dearest thing you can give? Give it, then,\n  freely, and thank Him for taking it, for don't you see that by this\n  you are resembling Him more closely? Besides, He has permitted this\n  to happen, and if we do not give up our good name, which already\n  belongs to Him, cheerfully and willingly, He will take it, in spite\n  of us, and we shall lose the merit of our offering. How foolish,\n  therefore, is it to go against God! Let us resign ourselves\n  unreservedly into his hands. However, to remove any scandal that\n  might follow, and to show this good priest that I have no\n  ill-feeling against him, I will go and visit him on friendly terms.'\n  And so he did.\"\n\nBesides casual attacks of illness brought on by his want of care or\ngreat labours, he suffered during the latter part of his life from\nchronic ailments. His heart often troubled him, and medical men told\nhim that he would very likely die of disease of the heart. He had an\nulcer in one of his ancles for a number of years, and was often\nobliged to keep his bed on account of it. No one ever heard him\ncomplain, and yet his sufferings must have been very acute. We never\nremarked him rejoice so much over this painful sore, than when one of\nthe fathers, who respected him much, and {490} wanted to test his\nmortification, became a Job's comforter. He said: \"You deserve to be\nlame, Father Ignatius, you made such use of your feet in the days of\nyour dancing and sporting, that Almighty God is punishing you now, and\nthe instruments of your pleasure are aptly turned into instruments of\npain.\" He said it was quite true, and that he believed so himself, and\nthat his only wish was that he might not lose a particle of the merit\nit would bring him, by any kind of complaint on his part. He got a\nrupture in 1863, and he simply remarked, \"I have made another step\ndown the hill to-day.\"\n\nWhilst labouring under a complication of sufferings he never abated\none jot of his round of duties, though requested to do so by his\nsubjects. He was Superior, and exercised his privilege by doing more\nthan any other instead of sparing himself. He did not take more rest\nnor divide his labours with his companions. During the time of his\nrectorship in Sutton, he used to preach and sing mass after hearing\nconfessions all morning; attend sick calls, preach in some distant\nchapel in the evening, return at eleven o'clock, perhaps, and say his\noffice, and be the first up to matins at two o'clock again. The only\nthing that seemed to pain him was a kind of holy envy. He used to say\nto the young priests: \"Oh, how well it is for you that are young and\nbuoyant, I am now stiff and old, and must have but a short time to\nlabour for Almighty God; still I hope to be able to work to the last.\"\nThis was his ordinary discourse the very year he died, and the young\nfathers were much struck by the coincidence between his wishes and\ntheir completion.\n\nFather Ignatius Paoli, the Provincial, gave the cook orders to take\nspecial care of the indefatigable worn-out Rector. He was not to heed\nthe fasts of the Rule, or at least to give the Superior the full\nsupply of meagre diet. Father Ignatius took the indulgence thankfully\nfor two or three days after returning from a mission; but when he saw\na better portion served up for himself oftener than was customary for\nthe other missionaries, he remonstrated with the brother cook. Next\nday he was served in the same manner, he then gave a prohibition, and\nat last scolded him. {491} The good brother then told him that he was\nonly carrying out the Provincial's orders. Father Ignatius was silent,\nbut, after dinner, posted off to the doctor, and made him give a\ncertificate of good health and ability to fast, which he forwarded to\nthe Provincial. Father Provincial did not wish to deny him the\nopportunity of acquiring greater merit, and, at the same time, he\nwould prolong so valuable a life. To save both ends he placed him\nunder the obedience, as far as regarded his health, of one of the\npriests of his community, whom he strictly obeyed in this matter\nthenceforward.\n\nOnce he went on a sick-call in very wet weather, and either a cramp or\nan accident made him fall into a dirty slough, where he was wetted\nthrough and covered with mud. He came home in this state, and finding\na friend of his at the house, who more or less fell into his way of\nthinking, he began to converse with him. The good father began to\nspeak of the conversion of England, and sat in his wet clothes for a\ncouple of hours, and likely would have stayed longer, so thoroughly\nwas he engrossed with his favourite topic, if one of the religious had\nnot come in, and frightened him off to change garments by his surprise\nand apprehension.\n\nHe seemed indifferent to cold; he would sit in his cell, the coldest\nday, and write until his fingers became numbed, and then he would warm\nthem by rubbing his hands together rather than allow himself the\nluxury of a fire. He went to give a retreat somewhere in midwinter,\nand the room he had to lodge in was so exposed that the snow came in\nunder the door. Here he slept, without bed or fire, for the first\nnight of his stay. It was the thoughtlessness of his entertainers that\nleft him in these cold quarters. In the morning some one remarked that\nvery probably Father Ignatius slept in the dreary apartment alluded\nto. A person ran down to see, and there was the old saint amusing\nhimself by gathering up the snow that came into his room, and making\nlittle balls of it for a kitten to run after. The kitten and himself\nseem to have become friends by having slept together in his rug the\nnight before, and both were disappointed by the intrusion of the\nwondering visitor.\n\n{492}\n\nHis humility was as remarkable to any one who knew him as was his\nzeal; and on this point also he was well tried. It is not generally\nknown that in the beginning of his Passionist life he adopted the\ncustom of praying before his sermons that God's glory would be\npromoted by them and himself be humiliated. At the opening of Sutton\nChurch in 1852, he was sent for from London to preach a grand sermon\nin the evening. A little before the sermon he was walking up and down\nthe corridor; the Provincial met him and asked more in joke than\notherwise: \"Well, Father Ignatius, what are you thinking of now?\" \"I\nam praying,\" he replied, \"that if it be for the glory of God my sermon\nmay be a complete failure as far as human eloquence is concerned.\" We\nmay imagine the surprise of his Superior at hearing this extraordinary\nanswer; it is believed that this was his general practice to the end.\nContrary to the common notion that prevails among religious orders, he\nwished that the Order would receive humiliations as well as himself.\nHe wished it to come to glory by its humiliations. On one occasion, he\nexpected that the newspapers would make a noise about something that\nmight be interpreted as humiliating to the community of which he was\nSuperior. Father Ignatius addressed the community nearly in these\nwords: We shall have something to thank God for tomorrow; the\nProtestants will make a great noise in the papers about this affair,\nand we must be prepared for a full feast of misrepresentations. Let us\nthank God now in anticipation.\" He was disappointed, however, as the\npapers were content with a bare notice of the matter.\n\nMany persons did not give him credit for great humility; they thought\nhis continual quoting of himself, and his readiness to speak about his\ndoings, was, if not egotism, at least inconsistent with profound\nhumility. We cannot answer this imputation better than by giving\nFather Faber's description of simplicity, which every one knows to be\nthe very character of genuine humility:--\n\n  \"But let us cast an eye at the action of simplicity in the spiritual\n  life. Simplicity lives always in a composed consciousness of its own\n  demerit and unworthiness. It is {493} possessed with a constant\n  sense of what the soul is in the sight of God. It knows that we are\n  worth no more than we are worth in His sight, and while it never\n  takes its eye off that view of self, so it does not in any way seek\n  to hide it from others. In fact it desires to be this, and no more\n  than this, in the eyes of others; and it is pained when it is more.\n  Every neighbour is, as it were, one of God's eyes, multiplying His\n  presence; and simplicity acts as if every one saw us, knew us, and\n  judged us as God does, and it has no wounded feeling that it is so.\n  Thus, almost without direct effort, the soul of self-love is so\n  narrowed that it has comparatively little room for action; although\n  it never can be destroyed, nor its annoyance ever cease, except in\n  the silence of the grave. The chains of human respect, which in the\n  earlier stages of the spiritual life galled us so intolerably, now\n  fall off from us, because simplicity has drawn us into the unclouded\n  and unsetting light of the eye of God. There is no longer any\n  hypocrisy. There is no good opinion to lose, because we know we\n  deserve none, and doubt if we possess it. We believe we are loved in\n  spite of our faults, and respected because of the grace which is in\n  us, and which is not our own and no praise to us. All diplomacy is\n  gone, for there is no one to circumvent and nothing to appropriate.\n  There is no odious laying ourselves out for edification, but an\n  inevitable and scarcely conscious letting of our light shine before\n  men in such an obviously innocent and unintentional manner that it\n  is on that account they glorify our Father who is in\n  Heaven.\"--_Blessed Sacrament_, Book II., c. vii.\n\nThe secret by which Father Ignatius arrived at this perfect way of\nreceiving trials was his _thanking God_ for everything. When some one\nobjected to him that we could not thank God for a trial when we did\nnot feel grateful, \"Never mind,\" he would say, \"you take a hammer to\nbreak a big stone; the first stroke has no effect, the second\nseemingly no effect, and the third, and so on; but somewhere about the\ntwentieth or hundredth the stone is broken, and no one stroke was\nheavier than the other. In the same way, begin to thank God, no matter\nabout the feeling, continue, {494} and you will soon break the hardest\ndifficulties.\" His maxims and sayings on resignation would fill a\ngood-sized volume were they collected together. We shall conclude this\nchapter with one picked by chance from his letters:\n\n  \"In trials and crosses we are like a sick child, when its mother\n  wants it to take some disagreeable medicine. The child kicks and\n  screams and sprawls, and spits the medicine in its mother's face.\n  That is just what we do when God sends us crosses and trials. But,\n  like the mother, who will persevere in giving the medicine until the\n  child has taken enough of it, God will send us crosses and trials\n  until we have sufficient of them for the health of our souls.\"\n\n\n{495}\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nForeshadowings And Death.\n\n\nFather Ignatius, for some months before his death, had a kind of\nsensation that his dissolution was near. He paid many _last_ visits to\nhis old friends, and, in arranging by letter for the greater number of\nflying visits, he used generally to say, \"I suppose I shall not be\nable to pay many more.\" Writing to Mrs. Hutchinson in Edinburgh from\nSt. Anne's Retreat, Button, in March, 1864, he says: \"When I wrote to\nyou some months ago in answer to your kind letter, I think I expressed\na hope that I might again have the pleasure of conversation with you\nbefore the closing of our earthly pilgrimage. It was a distant and\nuncertain prospect then. Now it is become a near and likely one, and I\nwrite to express my satisfaction at it.\" He was heard to say by many\nthat the volume of his journal he was writing would last him till the\nend of his life, and it is a curious circumstance that the last page\nof it is just half-written, and comes up to September 18, less than a\nfortnight before his death.\n\nOur Father-General came from Rome to make the visitation of this\nprovince in May, 1864, and Father Ignatius acted as interpreter\nthroughout the greater part of the visit. He was as young as ever in\nhis plans for the conversion of England, sanctification of Ireland,\nand advancing all to perfection; and the approbation of the General to\nthe main drift of his projects inflamed him with fresh ardour. A\ncharacteristic incident occurred during this visit. The Father-General\nwas inspecting the books Father Ignatius was obliged to keep, as\nRector of Sutton, and he found them rather irregular. The entries were\nneither clear nor orderly, and it was next to an impossibility to\nobtain any {496} exact notion of the income and expenditure of the\nhouse. The General called the Rector to his room, in order to rebuke\nhim for his carelessness. He began to lecture, and when he had said\nsomething rather warm looked at Father Ignatius, to see what effect it\nmight produce, when, to his surprise, he found that he had nodded off\nasleep. He awoke up in an instant, and complimented the Father-General\non his patience. Such was the indifference he had reached to by the\nmany and cutting rebukes he had borne through life.\n\nIn August, 1864, Father Ignatius wrote a long letter to Father\nIgnatius Paoli, our Provincial, about his doings, and he seemed as\nfresh in them as if he had but just commenced his crusade. We shall\ngive one extract from this letter:\n\n  \"I could hardly have the spirit to keep up this work (the\n  sanctification of Ireland) if it was not for aiming at a result so\n  greatly for the glory of God, and working with a resolution to\n  conquer. How exceedingly would it add to my spirit if I knew that\n  our body was penetrated with the same thought, and we thus were\n  supporting each other!\"\n\nSo late as September 8 he had prepared a paper embodying his\nintentions, which he intended to submit to Roman authority. Ever\nhimself to the last.\n\nBefore leaving the retreat for his \"_raid_\" as he called it, in\nScotland, he called all the members of the community, one by one, to\nconference; he did the same with a convent of nuns, of which he had\nspiritual charge. He gave them all special advices, which are not\nforgotten, and his last sermon to his brethren, a day or two before he\nleft, on the conversion of England through their own sanctification,\nwas singularly impressive. It moved many to tears; and, those who\nheard him, say it was the most thrilling ever heard from him on the\nsubject. In talking over some matter of future importance with his\nVicar, before he left for Scotland, he suddenly stopped short, saying,\n\"Others will see after this,\" or some such words. All those who spoke\nwith him confidentially recall some dubious half-meaning expressions\nthat seemed to come from an inward consciousness of his approaching\nend.\n\nHe was remarked to be very sombre and reflective in his {497} last\nmissions, but now and then his usual pleasant mood would show itself.\nThe Rev. M. Conden, the priest at Cartsdyke, Greenock, in whose church\nhe gave a little mission from September 14th to the 18th, writes as\nfollows about his stay with him:--\n\n  \"He preached morning and evening, heard confessions daily, pledged\n  200 young teetotallers, and received about \u00a314 in voluntary\n  offerings, for which he seemed most grateful. This mission, he said,\n  was his 242nd of the kind; and the number of his teetotallers, since\n  he himself took the pledge from Father Mathew in 1842, was 60,000.\n\n  \"Every moment of his time here (refection hours alone excepted),\n  from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m., was employed either in the mission\n  exercises, or at his office, or in prayer, or in writing letters to\n  arrange his future movements. He never rested. He seemed to have\n  vowed all his time to some duty or other.\n\n  \"Wood Cottage (late the Free Church Manse, but now the priest's\n  house in Cartsdyke) rests on an eminence overlooking the town,\n  harbour, and bay of Greenock, and is at a distance of from five to\n  ten minutes' walk from St. Laurence's chapel. I noticed that the\n  zigzag uphill walk fatigued him, and I offered to provide a\n  conveyance; but he would not permit me, 'as he could not read his\n  office so well in the carriage as when walking.'\n\n  \"As he passed twice or thrice daily to and from my house and the\n  chapel, his massive form and mild mien, his habit half concealed by\n  his cloak, his broad-brimmed hat, and his breviary in hand,\n  attracted the attention of the old and the curiosity of the young.\n  One day, some of the latter followed him and eyed him closely,\n  through the lattice-work in front of the cottage, until he had\n  finished his office in the garden. He then turned towards the\n  youngsters, and riveted his looks on them with intense interest and\n  thoughtfulness. You might have imagined that they never had seen his\n  like before, and that he had seen children for the first time in his\n  long life. At length one of the lads broke the spell by observing\n  {498} to the others in a subdued and doubting tone, 'A big\n  Hie-lander!' 'A Highlander,' said Father Ignatius, turning to me;\n  'they take my habit for an elongated kilt.'\n\n  \"At dinner he was always very happy and communicative, that day in\n  particular.\n\n  \"'My religious habit,' said he, 'subjected me to many humorous\n  remarks before the Ecclesiastical Titles Bill, and to annoyances\n  after it. One time a boy would cry out at me, \"There's the Great\n  Mogul;\" another, \"There goes Robinson Crusoe.\" \"That's Napoleon,\" a\n  third would shout; whilst a fourth, in a strange, clear, wild,\n  musical tone, would sing out: \"No, that's the devil himself.\" But,\n  he continued, 'nothing half so sharp was ever said of me as of a\n  very tall, lath-like Oratorian, who stood leaning, one day, against\n  a wall, musing on something or nothing. Some London wags watched him\n  attentively for some time, and, being divided in their opinions\n  about him, one of them at length ended the dispute by observing, in\n  a dry and droll way, \"Why, that fellow must have grown by\n  contract!\"'\n\n  \"Even after his frugal refection, Father Ignatius would never rest.\n  Then, too, he must either read his breviary, or say his rosary, or\n  write letters. On the day he finished his mission (Sunday, September\n  18), I besought him, as he had allowed himself little or no sleep\n  since he began it, before proceeding to Port-Glasgow, to commence a\n  new mission there that same evening, to recline on the sofa, even\n  for half an hour. 'Oh no!' said he; 'I shall try to have my nap in\n  the carriage, on my way.' The distance from Cartsdyke to Port\n  Glasgow being no more than two or three miles, and there being a\n  toll-bar about midway, he could have very little of his nap.\n\n  \"During his mission here, he remarked repeatedly, both publicly and\n  in private, that his health was never better, and his mind never\n  clearer. He promised himself yet twenty years to work for the\n  conversion of England, the sanctification of Ireland, and the unity\n  of all in the faith. Might he not live to see this realized? Twenty\n  years might {499} do it, and were not his physical and mental powers\n  fresh enough?\n\n  \"But, with all this hope of heart and soul, I could, now and then,\n  notice a shade of apprehension passing over his countenance, and\n  hear, not without tears, his humble, but earnest self-reproaches at\n  his inability to 'brighten up.' The manner in which he did this\n  showed me plainly that he had a strong presentiment of his\n  approaching end.\n\n  \"My cottage being at some distance from my chapel, the bishop had\n  allowed me to fit up in my house a little oratory, where I might\n  keep the Blessed Sacrament, and say mass occasionally. By the time\n  that Father Ignatius had concluded his mission, I had completed my\n  oratory, and asked him to bless it. 'Under what title?' he asked.\n  'Under that of \"Our Lady of the Seven Dolors,\" this (Sunday,\n  September 18) being that festival of hers,' I replied. Father\n  Ignatius became silent and absorbed for a considerable time and then\n  said:--\n\n  \"'Beautiful title! and appropriate! Here are the stations of the\n  Cross! And this is the Feast of the Seven Dolors! Beautiful title!'\n\n  \"'This,' he continued, 'reminds me of what I once read of St. Thomas\n  of Canterbury. When passing for the _last_ time through France to\n  England, he was asked, by a gentleman who entertained him, to bless\n  a little oratory which might be a memorial of his visit. \"Under what\n  title?\" asked the Archbishop. \"I shall leave the selection to your\n  grace,\" said the host. \"Well then,\" rejoined the Archbishop, \"let it\n  be to the _first English martyr_.\" He was _himself_ the first\n  martyr.\n\n  \"'Our Lady of Dolors!' Beautiful Title! I am a Passionist. Here are\n  the stations of the Cross; and this is the Feast of the Seven\n  Dolors,' repeated Father Ignatius; and again he became absorbed and\n  silent, so long that I thought he wanted never to bless my little\n  oratory. He blessed it, however; and now is it by mere accident that\n  on this, the eve of St. John of the Cross, Father Ignatius's\n  disciple and friend, Father Alban, comes to bless the oratory cross,\n  {500} and set up the little memorial tablet which I have prepared\n  with the following inscription?--\n\n           ORATE PRO ANIMA\n\n    REV SSMI. PATRIS IGNATII (SPENCER)\n  QUI DIE OCTODECIMO SEPTEMBRIS, A.D. 1864.\n\n            HOC ORATORIUM\n\n  SUB TITULO 'B. V. MARIAE DE SEPTEM DOLORIBUS,'\n\n              BENEDIXIT.\n\n               R.I.P.\"\n\n\nIn a letter to Father Joseph about this time, Father Ignatius says:--\n\n  \"I proceed to say that I have two more moves fixed: for Sunday the\n  18th, to Port Glasgow; Thursday the 22nd, to Catholic Church, East\n  Shaw Street, Greenock. _During the week following I shall suspend\n  missionary work, and make my visit to Mr. Monteith, and re-commence\n  on Sunday morning, October 2nd. I have got two places to go to in\n  Scotland, Leith and Portobello, and I wish to get one more to go to\n  first._\"\n\nThis sentence we put in italics, as it seems to signify a clear\nforeknowledge of his death. This one other place he did get, and it\nwas Coatbridge, his last mission. His letters, after this, are more\nconfused about his future; it would seem his clear vision failed him.\nAt all events, this much may be gathered from his words, that he\n_knew_ for certain his dissolution was near, and _very probably_ knew\neven the day. There is nothing whatever in his plans for the future to\nmilitate against this conclusion. The most definite is the following,\nwhich we quote from his last letter to Father Provincial, dated from\nCoatbridge, Sept. 28: \"I _am going_ on Saturday to Leith; on Thursday,\nOct. 6, to Portobello; on Monday, Oct. 10, to Carstairs (Mr.\nMonteith's), for a visit and _repose_.\" Did he know that repose was to\nbe eternal? He kept to his first arrangement about the visit; but we\nmust hear something about his last little mission.\n\nWe subjoin two accounts of this mission. The first was sent us by a\ngentleman, Mr. M'Auley of Airdrie, who {501} attended the mission, and\nthe next by the Rev. Mr. O'Keefe, the priest.\n\nMr. M'Auley writes:\n\n  \"I was witness to his missionary labours for the last five days of\n  his life in this world. On Sunday, the 25th September, Rev. Michael\n  O'Keefe, St. Patrick's Catholic Chapel, Coatbridge (a large village\n  two miles from Airdrie, and eight from Glasgow), announced to his\n  flock that Father Ignatius would open a mission there on the\n  following Tuesday evening at eight o'clock, and close it on Saturday\n  morning, 1st October. Accordingly, the beautiful little church was\n  crowded on Tuesday at eight, when the saintly father made his\n  appearance and addressed the people for upwards of an hour. He gave\n  them a brief outline of his conversion, his different visits to\n  Ireland and the Continent, the grand objects he had in view--namely,\n  the conversion of his country to the Catholic faith, the faith of\n  their fathers; as also, the conversion of Scotland and the\n  sanctification of Ireland. He then showed the power of prayer, and\n  said that the conversion of Great Britain could only be attained by\n  prayer. He said the sanctification of Ireland should begin by\n  rooting out the vices and disorders which prevail. These, he\n  remarked, were drunkenness, cursing, and company-keeping, and that\n  they would form the subjects of his discourses for the three\n  following evenings.\n\n  \"He then showed the utility of missions, and mentioned that this was\n  his 245th; and closed, as he did on the subsequent evenings, by\n  saying three _Hail Marys_ for the conversion of England, one for the\n  conversion of Scotland, and one for the sanctification of Ireland.\n  Each of the first three was followed by, _Help of Christians, pray\n  for us;_ that for Scotland by, _St. Margaret, pray for us;_ and that\n  for Ireland by, _St. Patrick, pray for us_. He also mentioned that\n  he had received from his Holiness, Pope Pius IX., an indulgence of\n  300 days for each Hail Mary said for the conversion of England. On\n  the following four days he said mass every morning at seven o'clock,\n  and, on the three first, heard confessions from six o'clock in the\n  morning until eleven at night, with the exception of the time\n  required for {502} his devotions and meals. On Saturday morning he\n  heard two confessions before mass. I was the last he heard, and I\n  trust the fatherly advice he then gave me shall never be eradicated\n  from my memory.\"\n\nFather O'Keefe writes:--\n\n  \"I am just in receipt of your letter, and beg to inform you that I\n  have not words to express the sorrow I feel for the sudden death of\n  the good and holy Father Ignatius. _Deo gratias_, there is one more\n  added to the Church triumphant. He reached my house about five\n  o'clock on the 27th ult., and left this on Saturday morning at a\n  quarter-past nine o'clock, during which time he enjoyed excellent\n  health. He told me that he was going direct to Leith, to open his\n  little mission there on Saturday night; and thence to Portobello for\n  the same purpose, after he had done at Leith. He also told me that,\n  after finishing his mission at Portobello, he would return home to\n  St. Anne's Retreat. He intended to pay a visit to Mr. Monteith this\n  week. On Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights he had supper at\n  half-past ten o'clock, and then returned to the confessional until\n  about a quarter-past eleven. On Friday night he told me to defer\n  supper till eleven; yet, late though it was, he returned after\n  supper to the confessional, and remained there until a quarter-past\n  twelve. When he came in, I said: 'I am afraid, Father Ignatius, you\n  are over-exerting yourself, and that you must feel tired and\n  fatigued.' He said, with a smile: 'No, no; I am not fatigued. There\n  is no use in saying I am tired, for, you know, I must be at the same\n  work to-night in Leith.' He retired to his room at half-past twelve\n  o'clock, and was in the confessional again at six o'clock in the\n  morning. He said mass at seven; breakfasted at half-past eight; and,\n  as I have already said, left this at a quarter-past nine for the\n  train. On seeing him, after breakfast, in his secular dress, I\n  remarked that he looked much better and younger than in his\n  religious habit. The remark caused him to laugh very heartily. It\n  was the only time I saw him laugh. He said: 'I wish to tell you what\n  Father Thomas Doyle said when he saw me in my secular dress: \"Father\n  Ignatius, you look like a {503 } broken-down old gentleman.\" And he\n  enjoyed the remark very much.'\"\n\nThe remainder of his life is easily told. He arrived at Carstairs\nJunction at 10.35 a.m.; came out of the train, and gave his luggage in\ncharge of the station master. He then went towards Carstairs House,\nthe residence of Mr. Monteith. There is a long avenue through the\ndemesne for about half a mile from the station, crossed then at right\nangles by another, which leads to the grand entrance; this avenue\nFather Ignatius went by. He had just passed the \"rectangle,\" and was\ncoming straight to the grand entrance, when he turned off on a bye\npath. He perceived that he had lost his way, and asked a child which\nwas the right one. He never spoke to mortal again.\n\nOn a little corner in the avenue, just within sight of the house, and\nabout a hundred paces from the door, he fell suddenly and yielded up\nhis spirit into the hands of his Creator. May we all die doing God's\nwork, and as well prepared as Father Ignatius of St. Paul!\n\n\n{504}\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nThe Obsequies Of Father Ignatius.\n\n\nThe divine attribute of Providence to which he was so fondly devoted\nduring life guided him in his last moments. He did not intend to visit\nCarstairs before the 10th of October, but our Lord, who disposes all\nthings sweetly, had ordained otherwise, by the circumstances. The\ntrain he came by was due at the junction at 10.35, and the train for\nEdinburgh would not start before 11.50. He had more than an hour to\nwait, and he thought perhaps he might as well spend part of that time\nat Mr. Monteith's as at the Railway Station; besides he could get a\nfast train to Edinburgh at 3.0, which would bring him to Leith a few\nminutes after six, and this would be time enough, as his mission was\nto commence on the next day, Sunday. Such seems to have been the\nsimple combination of circumstances that directed his steps to\nCarstairs House, as far as human eye can see. We cannot but admire the\ndispositions of Providence; had he taken any other train, he might\nhave died in the railway carriage, or at a station. How convenient\nthat he died within the boundaries of the demesne of a friend by whom\nhe was venerated, and to whose house he was always welcome!\n\nAnd then how remarkable was that other circumstance of his being\nalone. Servants and workmen were passing up and down the place the\nwhole morning, but at the moment God chose to call his servant, no\nhuman eye saw him, and no hand was ready to assist him. On measuring\nthe respective distances from where he had turned off the avenue, to\nwhere his body was found, and to the house, it was seen that, had he\ngone on straight, he would have {505} fallen just on the threshold. It\nwas God's will that angels instead of men should surround his lonely\nbed of death.\n\nHe must have arrived at the spot where his body was discovered about\n11 o'clock. A few minutes after, one of the retainers was passing by,\nand ran at once to the house to give the alarm that a priest lay dead\nat such a part of the avenue. Mr. Monteith, and Mr. Edmund Waterton,\nwho was on a visit there at the time, were going out to shoot. They\nlaid down their guns, and went in haste to the spot. Monteith did not\nrecognize the features; they were drawn together by the death-stroke.\nThey searched for something to identify him. What was the good man's\nsurprise when he found among the papers of the deceased a letter he\nhad written himself to Father Ignatius a few days before. The truth\nthen flashed across him. It was no other than his own godfather, his\nconstant friend and counsellor, the man whom he venerated so much,\nFather Ignatius the Passionist. Immediately, a doctor was sent for,\nthe body, which all now recognized, was brought to the nearest\nshelter, and every available means tried to restore consciousness, but\nto no effect. Medical examination showed that he died of disease of\nthe heart, and in an instant. The spot whereon he lay bore the impress\nof his knee, and the brim of his hat was broken by his sudden fall on\nthe left side. As soon as they were certain of life being extinct, the\nbody was brought into the house, the luggage was sent for, a coffin\nwas provided, the secular dress was taken off, and the corpse robed in\nthe religious habit. The sacristy was draped in black, and two\nflickering tapers showed the mortal remains of a pure and saintly\nsoul, as they lay there in a kind of religious state for the greater\npart of three days.\n\nTelegrams were sent immediately to our principal houses, and to\nmembers of the Spencer family by Mr. Monteith. The shock was great,\nand not knowing the manner of his death did not serve to make it the\nless felt. Fathers of the Order went from the different retreats to\nCarstairs, and arrived there, some on Sunday, and some on Monday\nmorning. Those who went were struck by the appearance of the corpse;\nthe marble countenance never looked so noble as in {506} death, and we\nlooked with silent wonder on all that now remained of one whom the\nworld was not worthy of possessing longer.\n\nAbout 10 o'clock a sad cort\u00e9ge was formed, and the coffin was carried\nby the most worthy persons present to the train that conveyed it to\nButton. Every one on hearing of his death appeared to have lost a\nspecial friend; no one could lament, for they felt that he was happy;\nfew could pray for him, because they were more inclined to ask his\nintercession. The greatest respect and attention were shown by the\nrailway officials all along the route, and special ordinances were\nmade in deference to the respected burthen that was carried.\n\nLetters were sent to the relatives of Father Ignatius by our Father\nProvincial, and they were told when the funeral would take place. No\none came, and those who were sure to come were unavoidably prevented.\nLord Lucan had not time to come from West Connaught, and Lord Spencer\nwas just then in Copenhagen. His regard for his revered uncle, and his\nkindly spirit, will be seen from the following letter, which was\npublished in the newspapers at the time, and is the most graceful\ntribute paid to the memory of Father Ignatius by any member of his\nnoble family.\n\n  \"_Denmark, Oct_. 16, 1864.\n\n  \"Rev. Sir,--I was much shocked to hear of the death of my excellent\n  uncle George. I received the sad intelligence last Sunday, and\n  subsequently received the letter which you had the goodness to write\n  to me. My absence from England prevented my doing what I should have\n  much wished to have done, to have attended to the grave the remains\n  of my uncle, if it had been so permitted by your Order.\n\n  \"I assure you that, much as I may have differed from my uncle on\n  points of doctrine, no one could have admired more than I did the\n  beautiful simplicity, earnest religion, and faith of my uncle. For\n  his God he renounced all the pleasures of the world; his death, sad\n  as it is to us, was, as his life, apart from the world, but with\n  God.\n\n  \"His family will respect his memory as much as I am sure you and the\n  brethren of his Order do.\n\n{507}\n\n  \"I should be much obliged to you if you let me know the particulars\n  of the last days of his life, and also where he is buried, as I\n  should like to place them among family records at Althorp.\n\n  \"I venture to trouble you with these questions, as I suppose you\n  will be able to furnish them better than any one else.\n\n    \"Yours faithfully,\n        \"SPENCER.\"\n\nThe evening before the funeral the coffin was opened, and the body was\nfound to have already commenced to decompose. The tossing of the long\njourney from Scotland and the suddenness of the death caused this\nchange to come on sooner than might be expected. A privileged few were\nallowed to take a last lingering look at the venerable remains, many\ntouched the body with objects of devotion, and others cut off a few\nrelics which their piety valued in proportion to their conception of\nhis sanctity.\n\nAt 11 o'clock on Thursday, October 5th, the Office of the Dead\ncommenced. A requiem mass was celebrated, and the funeral oration\npreached by the Right Rev. Dr. Ullathorne, Lord Bishop of Birmingham,\nand particular friend of the deceased. We give the following extracts\nfrom an account of the funeral as given by the _Northern Press_; the\nBishop's sermon is taken from the _Weekly Register_.\n\n  At eleven o'clock the solemn ceremonies commenced. The church, which\n  was crowded, was draped in black, and the coffin (on which were the\n  stole and cap of the deceased nobleman) reclined on a raised\n  catafalque immediately outside the sanctuary rails. On each side of\n  the coffin were three wax-lights, and around were ranged seats for\n  the clergy in attendance. Solemn Office for the Dead was first\n  chanted, and amongst the assembled clerics were the following: The\n  Right Rev. Dr. Ullathorne (Lord Bishop of Birmingham); Benedictines:\n  Right Rev. Dr. Burchall (Lord Abbot of Westminster), Very Rev. R. B.\n  Vaughan (Prior of St. Michael's, Hereford), Very Rev. T. Cuthbert\n  Smith (Prior of St. George's, Downside), Very Rev. P. P. Anderson\n  {508} (Prior of St. Laurence's, Ampleforth); the Revds. P. A.\n  Glassbrooke, R. A. Guy, J. P. Hall, and Bradshaw (Redemptorists);\n  the Very Rev. Canon Wallwork, the Rev. Fathers Walmsley, Grimstone,\n  Costello, Kernane (Rainhill), M. Duggan, M.R. (St. Joseph's,\n  Liverpool), S. Walsh (of the new mission of St. John the Evangelist,\n  Bootle); Father Dougall; Father Fisher, of Appleton; Father O'Flynn,\n  of Blackbrook, near St. Helen's; and the priests and religious of\n  the Order of Passionists, who were represented by members of the\n  order from France, Ireland, and England. A number of nuns of the\n  convent of the Holy Cross, Sutton, occupied seats beside the altar\n  of the Blessed Virgin, and with them were about twenty young girls\n  apparelled in white dresses and veils, with black bands round the\n  head, and wearing also black scarfs. When the Office for the Dead\n  had concluded, a solemn Requiem Mass was begun. His Lordship the\n  Bishop of Birmingham occupied a seat on a raised dais at the Gospel\n  side of the altar; and the priests who celebrated the Sacred\n  Mysteries were:--Celebrant--the Very Rev. Father Ignatius (Paoli),\n  Provincial of the Order of Passionists in England and Ireland;\n  Deacon--the Very Rev. Father Eugene, First Provincial Consulter;\n  Sub-deacon--the Very Rev. Father Bernard, Second Provincial\n  Consulter; Master of the Ceremonies--the Very Rev. Father Salvian,\n  rector of St. Saviour's Retreat, Broadway, Worcestershire. The mass\n  sung was the Gregorian Requiem, and the choir was under the\n  direction of the Rev. Father Bernardine (of Harold's Cross Retreat,\n  Dublin, and formerly of Sutton). Immediately after the conclusion of\n  the Holy Sacrifice, the Right Rev. Dr. Ullathorne ascended the\n  pulpit (which was hung in black) and preached the funeral sermon.\n\n  His Lordship, who was deeply affected, said:--The wailings of the\n  chant have gone into silence, the cry of prayer is hushed into\n  secret aspiration, and stillness reigns, whilst I lift my solitary\n  voice, feeling, nevertheless, that it would be better for me to weep\n  over my own soul than to essay to speak the character of him who is\n  gone from the midst of us. A certain oppression weighs upon {509} my\n  heart, and yet there rises through it a spring of consolation when I\n  think upon that strength of holiness which has borne him to his end;\n  who, if I am a Religious, was my brother; if a Priest, he was of the\n  Holy Order of Priesthood; but he was also, what I am not, a\n  mortified member of an institute devoted to the Passion of our Lord,\n  who bore conspicuously upon him the character of the meekness and\n  the sufferings of his Divine Master.\n\n  My text lies beneath that pall. For there is all that Death will\n  ever claim of victory from him. The silver cord is broken, and the\n  bowl of life is in fragments; and yet this death is but the rending\n  of the mortal frame that through the open door the soul may go forth\n  to its eternity; upon the brink of which we stand, gazing after with\n  our faith, and trembling for ourselves whilst we gain a glimpse of\n  the Throne of Majesty, on which sits the God of infinite purity,\n  whose insufferable light searches our frailty through.\n\n  I will not venture to recount a life which would ask days of speech\n  or volumes of writing, but I will endeavour at least to point to\n  some of those principles which animated that life, and were its stay\n  as well as guidance. For principles are like the luminaries of\n  Heaven, or like the eyes that cover the wings of the Cherubs that\n  sustain the Chariot of God in the vision of Ezechiel. They are\n  luminous points planted in the midst of our life, which enable us to\n  see whatever we look upon in a new light, and to enhance the scene\n  of our existence. Listen, then, dearly beloved, and hang your\n  attention on my voice, whilst I speak of him who was once called in\n  the world the Honourable and Rev. George Spencer, a scion of one of\n  the noblest houses of the nobility of this land, but who himself\n  preferred to be called Father Ignatius of St. Paul, of the\n  Congregation of Regular Clerics of our most Holy Redeemer's Passion,\n  a name by which he was loved by tens of thousands of the poor of\n  these countries, and known to the Catholics of all lands.\n\n  Father Ignatius was born in the last month of the last year of the\n  last century; at the time when his father was First Lord of the\n  Admiralty. Brought up in the lap of luxury, and encircled with those\n  social splendours that belong {510} to our great families, he was\n  educated as most of our noble youths are; sent early to Eton, and\n  thence to Cambridge. I will not stay to trace his early life. In his\n  twenty-second year he received Anglican orders, and was inducted\n  into the living that adjoined the mansion of his fathers, where, for\n  seven years, he toiled to disseminate to those around him what light\n  of truth had entered his own mind. He himself has recorded that he\n  had about 800 souls committed to his care. And here we begin to see\n  the opening of that genuine purity and earnestness in his character\n  which he developed with time to such perfection. His simplicity of\n  soul and passionate love of truth enabled him to see some of the\n  leading characteristics of truth in its objective nature. He saw\n  that truth was one, and that the Church, which is the depository and\n  the voice of truth, must of necessity be one. He found his parish\n  divided by the presence of the sects of Unitarians, Anabaptists, and\n  Wesleyans. These he sought out, conversed with them, and discussed\n  with them the unity of truth and the authority of the Church. But\n  the more he urged them with his arguments the more he found that\n  they threw him back upon himself, forcing him to see, by the aid of\n  his own sincerity and love of truth, that he stood upon something\n  like the self-same grounds which he assailed in them. The very\n  sincerity with which he read the Gospel; the sincerity with which he\n  prayed; the sincerity with which he strove to penetrate into those\n  duties and responsibilities which then appeared to him to be laid\n  upon his conscience; and his sincere love of souls, drew his own\n  soul gradually and gently towards the one broad horizon of truth and\n  the one authority. He had already, from reading the Gospel,\n  determined on leading a life of celibacy as the most pure and\n  perfect, and to keep himself from the world for the service of his\n  Divine Master. And what effect that resolve had in humbling his\n  heart and bringing down the light and grace of God into his spirit,\n  he himself has told us in that narrative of his conversion which he\n  drew up at the request of a venerable Italian bishop, soon after his\n  conversion. The results, I say, he has told us; he presumes not to\n  point to any cause as in himself.\n\n{511}\n\n  But whilst yet perplexed between the new light he was receiving, and\n  the resistance of the old opinion which he had inherited, he\n  received a letter from an unknown hand, inviting him to examine the\n  foundations of his faith; this led to correspondence, and so to\n  contact with members of the Church, and the errors which had\n  encompassed him from his birth dispersed by degrees, until at last\n  the daylight dawned upon him, and grew on even to mid-day, and he\n  hesitated not, even for one week, but closed his ministry, and\n  entered into the Church of God and the fulness of peace. Then it was\n  he found that the correspondent who had awakened him to inquire was\n  a lady, who, converted before himself, was then dying in a convent\n  in Paris which she had but recently entered; and he hoped, as he\n  said, to have an intercessor in heaven in one who had so fervently\n  prayed for him on earth.\n\n  No sooner had Father Ignatius entered the Church than he put himself\n  with all simplicity and obedience under the guidance of the\n  venerable prelate, my predecessor, Bishop Walsh, who sent him to\n  Rome, there to enter on a course of ecclesiastical studies. In 1830,\n  there we find him in the holy city, imbibing that Apostolic light,\n  and bending himself over the written laws of that truth which was to\n  fit him, not only for the priesthood, but also for a singular call\n  and an unprecedented vocation. Father Ignatius was marked out by the\n  Providence of God for a special apostleship, and he had something\n  about him of the spirit of the prophet and of the eye of the seer.\n  He pierced in advance into the work to which God called him, and\n  there were holy souls who instinctively looked to him as an\n  instrument for the fulfilling of their own anticipations. There was\n  in Italy a Passionist Father, who from his youth had had written in\n  his heart the work of England's conversion. It had been the object\n  of all his thoughts, and prayers, and hopes. Father Dominic had\n  moved all the souls he could with kindred ardour for this work. And\n  before they had ever beheld each other, the hearts of those two men\n  were sweetly drawn together. Let us hear what Father Dominic writes\n  to an English gentleman, himself a convert, ardent for the\n  conversion of his {512} country, on the day of Mr. Spencer's first\n  sermon in Rome, after being ordained deacon:--\"On this day,\" he\n  writes, \"on this day, the feast of the Most Holy Name of Jesus, Mr.\n  Spencer begins in Rome his apostolic ministry; to-day, he makes his\n  first sermon to the Roman people in the church of the English. Oh\n  what a fortunate commencement! Certainly that ought to be salutary\n  which commences in the name of the Saviour. Oh, how great are my\n  expectations! God, without doubt, has not shed so many graces on\n  that soul to serve for his own profit alone. I rather believe He has\n  done it in order that he might carry the Holy Name of Jesus before\n  kings, and nations, and the sons of Israel. Most sweet Name of\n  Jesus, be thou in his mouth as oil poured out, which may softly and\n  efficaciously penetrate the hardest marble.\"\n\n  This was written by a man who had never stepped on English soil,\n  about one whom he had never seen in the flesh, but whom he felt to\n  have one common object in one common spirit with himself. But it was\n  written by a man in whose heart God had written in grace the\n  words--_England's Conversion_.\n\n  It was whilst yet a Deacon, that Father Ignatius was visited at the\n  Roman College by a Bishop who had come to Rome from the farthest\n  corner of Italy, who on his soul had also the impression that great\n  conversions were in store for England, and who asked that his eyes\n  might be blessed with so rare a spectacle as that of a converted\n  Anglican minister; and it was at the request of the Bishop of\n  Oppido, for the edification of his flock, to whom the news had\n  reached, that Father Ignatius wrote the narrative of his conversion;\n  the translation of which brings us in view of another of those\n  remarkable men who were then preparing themselves for entering on\n  the work of the English mission, for that translation was done in\n  Rome by Dr. Gentili.\n\n  It was under the direction of Cardinal Wiseman, then President of\n  the English College, that Father Ignatius was pursuing his studies,\n  when, at the end of two years, he broke a blood-vessel, and was\n  summoned, in consequence, {513} by Bishop Walsh, to hasten his\n  ordination and return to England. Cardinal Wiseman arranged that he\n  should receive the order of priesthood from the Cardinal Vicar in\n  that very Church of St. Gregory, from which the Apostles of England\n  had been sent to our shores, and that he should say his first mass\n  on the Feast of that Venerable Bede, whose name is so intimately\n  entwined with the literature, the religion, and the history of\n  England. How Father Ignatius himself viewed these signs and his\n  approaching ordination, he himself expressed in a letter to Father\n  Dominic, in these terms: \"Ten days ago I received orders from my\n  Bishop, Dr. Walsh, to proceed to England without delay. You know the\n  value and security of obedience, and will agree with me that I ought\n  not to doubt of anything. The first festival day that presented\n  itself for ordination was that of St. Philip Neri. Judge, then, what\n  was my joy when, after that day had been fixed upon, I discovered\n  that it was also the Feast of St. Augustine, the first Apostle of\n  England, sent by St. Gregory. It seems to me that Providence wishes\n  to give me some good omens. It is enough, if I have faith and\n  humility.\"\n\n  Of the grace of humility, that virtue of the heroic virtues which\n  had already taken possession of his heart, I cannot give you better\n  proof than his own communing with the heart of Father Dominic, who\n  had hinted rumours of his rising to ecclesiastical dignities. He\n  writes in reply: \"I can assure you it would give me the greatest\n  displeasure. My prayer is that God would grant me a life like that\n  of His Son and the Apostles, in poverty and tribulations for the\n  Gospel. I must submit, if it be His will to raise me to any high\n  worldly dignity; but it would be to me the same as to say that I am\n  unworthy of the heavenly state, which I long for upon earth. Jesus\n  Christ sent the Apostles in poverty. St. Francis Xavier, St.\n  Dominic, and so many other great missionaries, preached in poverty,\n  and I wish to do the same, if it be the will of God.\"\n\n  Here you behold the heart of this ecclesiastic, so young as yet in\n  the Church, yet so mature in spiritual sense. On his return home, he\n  meets his dear friend Father Dominic {514} face to face for the\n  first time, in the diocese of Lucca, and the latter writes to his\n  friend in England:--\n\n  \"How willingly would I go to England along with dear Mr. Spencer;\n  but the time destined by the Divine mercy for this has not yet\n  arrived. I hope, however, that it will arrive. I hope one day to see\n  with my own eyes that kingdom, which for so many years I have borne\n  engraven on my heart. May God be merciful to us both, that so we may\n  meet together in the company of all our dear Englishmen above in\n  heaven, to praise and bless the Divine Majesty throughout all ages.\"\n\n  I have lingered upon the first communing together of these two men,\n  because it is so instructive to see how it was not merely in the\n  schools, even where religion was studied under the shadow of the\n  successor of St. Peter, but still more by drawing fire from the\n  hearts of saintly men, that Father Ignatius was prepared for his\n  future work. Returned to England, he has left it on record how\n  affectionately he was received by his venerable father and his noble\n  brother, Lord Althorp, then in the midst of his official career as a\n  chief leader of the destinies of his country. Who that remembers\n  those days does not recall the amenities of a character of humanity\n  so gentle and true, that even in the midst of the most intense\n  political strife he embittered no one, and drew on him no personal\n  attack. By his noble relatives, Father Ignatius was received with\n  the old affection, and their entire conduct towards him was an\n  exception indeed to the treatment which so many members of other\n  families have experienced in reward for their fidelity to God and to\n  their conscience. For fifteen years Father Ignatius toiled in the\n  work of the mission in the diocese of Birmingham, generously\n  expending both himself and the private funds allowed him by his\n  family in the service of souls. He founded the mission of\n  Westbromwich, and the mission of Dudley; he raised there churches\n  and schools, and preached and conversed with the poor unceasingly.\n  He was called to Oscott, and a new office was created for him, that\n  of Spiritual Dean, that he might inspire those young men who were\n  preparing for the ministry with his own {515} missionary ardours.\n  The office began with him, and ended when he left the establishment,\n  although unquestionably one of the greatest functions which could be\n  exerted in our colleges would be the office of enkindling in\n  youthful hearts that fire of charity for souls which is the true\n  creator of the missioner. But the time was coming when he was to\n  pass from the ordinary life of a missioner, led in an extraordinary\n  manner, and to pass into that religious congregation where he was to\n  carry out his special mission, his Apostleship of prayer. During\n  those fifteen past years he had not lost sight of Father Dominic. In\n  1840, that holy man, with the name of England written on his heart,\n  reached Boulogne with a community of his brethren. In the same year\n  he visited Oscott, where those two men of God embraced each other\n  anew; and in the following year the desire and prayer of so many\n  years was realized. The Passionist Fathers were established at\n  Aston, in Staffordshire, with Father Dominic as their head and\n  founder; and whoever will look over the correspondence, so deeply\n  interesting at this moment, which is printed as an appendix to the\n  life of the Blessed Paul of the Cross, will see how great a part the\n  Rev. George Spencer had in the work of bringing the Passionists into\n  England.\n\n  It was in the year 1846, that, making a retreat under the Fathers of\n  the Society of Jesus, God revealed to his heart his vocation to join\n  the Passionists, and become the companion and fellow worker with\n  Father Dominic. He cast himself at the feet of that holy man, and\n  petitioned for the singular grace of being admitted to the Order.\n  Their joint aspirations for England had brought them together, and\n  their love of the Cross made them of one mind, and after the first\n  ironic rebuff with which the spirit of the petitioner was tested, I\n  can imagine the smile with which that man of God, so austere to\n  himself whilst so loving to his neighbour, recalled the time, long\n  past, when they wondered if ever they should meet in the flesh face\n  to face. There before him was the man drawn by his prayers into his\n  very bosom, of whom he had predicted, sixteen years ago, that he\n  would carry the name of Jesus for the conversion of England {516}\n  before the kings and nations of the earth. In the Order he was\n  distinguished by his simplicity, his humility, his\n  self-mortification, his patience in suffering, and his obedience. I\n  would gladly dwell on the traits of those virtues which formed his\n  personal character, but time urges me to proceed. He filled\n  successively the office of Consultor, of Novice-master, and of\n  Rector, and it was to him that Father Dominic provisionally\n  consigned his authority at his death. But his great and singular\n  work was his Apostleship of prayer for England. Many had been the\n  questionings in many hearts, as to whether this country would ever\n  in any serious numbers return to the faith or not. And many had been\n  the speculations as to how this could be accomplished; some dreamt\n  it must come by missions; others, by learned writings; others, by\n  the preaching of the Gospel; some had one scheme, some another, but\n  in each there was something defective, something not altogether\n  divine; something that was human, and resting more or less on the\n  will of man. But Father Ignatius consulted the light and grace of\n  his own soul, he penetrated to the true principle, he recalled his\n  own history, he saw that conversion is the work of God, that the\n  work itself is the work of grace, and that all that man can do, is\n  to invoke God to put forth His power. Prayer that is pure, sincere,\n  earnest, and of many souls, God always hears and inclines to grant.\n  There are many ways of approaching to God, but there is one which He\n  loves for its tender alliance with the Divine Humanity, for its\n  humility and its beautiful faith, and that is the approach through\n  her who is at once the Virgin Mother of God and ours. Let us plead\n  to God through the Mother of God, and let her plead for her sons on\n  earth to her Son in Heaven, and behold our prayer is tripled in its\n  strength. So Ignatius looked to God through the eyes of Mary, prayed\n  to God through the heart of Mary, and appealed through the purity of\n  Mary, for a people who had forgotten her. And he went forth on his\n  Apostleship of prayer over Italy and France, and Hungary and\n  Austria, and the rest of Germany; and over Belgium and England, and\n  Ireland and Scotland, and he corresponded with the other kingdoms of\n  Christendom. He {517} went before emperors and kings, and before\n  ministers of state, and asked them to pray for the conversion of his\n  country. He sought the Bishops in their dioceses, and the priests in\n  their parishes, and holy religious in their convents, and devout lay\n  persons in their houses, and prayed them to pray to God, and to set\n  other souls to pray for the conversion of England. His faith was\n  strong that from her conversion a great radiation of truth would\n  spread forth in the world, and that all that was needed was the\n  general prayer of believing souls, that God might grant so great a\n  grace to the world. And so the name of Father Ignatius grew familiar\n  on the lips of Christendom. Prayer arose in many countries; the\n  Bishops issued pastorals, a day in the week was appointed for prayer\n  for England. Prelates spoke of it in synods, and the clergy\n  discussed it in their conferences. And all pious souls added on new\n  prayers to their habitual devotions for the conversion of England.\n  And as for the apostle of this prayer, he went on nourishing the\n  flame which he had enkindled, and stirring the zeal of his brethren\n  until, to use his own words, often repeated to his superior, this\n  prayer, and the preaching of this prayer to God through Mary, had\n  become a part of his nature, an element inseparable from his\n  existence. He had but recently recommenced the work of this mission\n  in a somewhat altered form, basing the conversion of the English\n  upon the sanctification of the Irish people, but still his cry\n  was--Pray for England. There can be no doubt, as sundry facts point\n  out, but that he had a strong impression of late that his end was\n  drawing near. And not long before his death he called the brethren\n  individually to his room, and exhorted each with solemn earnestness\n  to be instant in the mission of prayer for England.\n\n  And what has been the result of this Apostleship? That result Father\n  Ignatius himself summed up but a few days before his death. On the\n  8th of September, he addressed a letter to an Italian periodical,\n  from which I translate the following passage as the fit conclusion\n  of this subject. He says:--\n\n  \"It is more than thirty-four years since a worthy Bishop of a\n  Neapolitan diocese came to seek me in the English {518} College at\n  Rome, wishing to look with his own eyes upon a converted Anglican\n  clergyman; a sight so grateful to a noble Catholic heart, and in\n  those days so rare. On what proof he spoke, I know not, but he\n  assured me that the first Carmelite Scapular ever given, and given\n  by that English Saint, Simon Stock, was secretly kept in England,\n  and that he looked on this as a pledge that our country would one\n  day come back to the faith. Be this assertion well or ill founded,\n  the memory of him who made it is dear to me as is the memory of the\n  presence of every one who bespeaks hope and peace for England.\n\n  \"What have we seen in our days? Conversions to the faith so numerous\n  and so important that the whole world speaks of them. And this\n  movement towards Catholicism is of a character so remarkable, that\n  the history of the Church presents nothing like it.\n\n  \"It is true that other nations have been converted, whilst England\n  has stood to her Protestantism; but a first step has been made in\n  this country, which, as far as I know, has no parallel. In other\n  cases, it was the sovereign who made the first movement, having had\n  no learned opposition or persecution from his subjects; and, as in\n  the instance of St. Stephen, of Hungary, the conversions which\n  followed came easily, and as it were naturally; or conversion began\n  with the poor, who, though it cost them persecution and privation,\n  had yet but little to lose. But this has not been the case in\n  England. Here the work of conversion grew conspicuous among the\n  ministers of the Protestant Church, of whom hundreds of the most\n  esteemed and learned have been received into the bosom of the\n  Church, and also among the noble and the gentle families of the\n  kingdom; so that it may be said that scarcely is there a family that\n  is not touched by conversion, in some near or more distant member of\n  it. I say that this order of conversion is new, this operation of\n  grace is most singular. Great numbers of those clergymen had\n  prospects before them by remaining in Protestantism, flattering\n  enough, of earthly felicity, wealth, and honour; and by their\n  conversion they fell upon poverty, distress, and contempt,\n  especially those men who, by reason {519} of their families, could\n  not embrace the clerical state. The sacrifices of the lay gentry\n  have not always been so great; but even here how many have closed\n  against themselves the path of honours and distinctions; how many\n  have been discarded by their kindred and friends; how many of the\n  gentle sex have abandoned the prospect of a settlement in life\n  befitting their rank and station; while all have turned from the\n  world to obey the voice of God; and that, in a country like this,\n  where the world holds out allurements so specious and so attractive\n  in every kind.\n\n  \"But these great results can neither be attributed to the force, the\n  eloquence, or the industry of man. Man has positively had no part in\n  the work, except by prayer, and this praying has been professedly\n  offered to God through Mary; through whom all the heresies of the\n  world are destroyed.\"\n\n  I have no time to dwell upon this summary of results so beautifully\n  told and so remarkably timed. But it is impossible not to notice\n  that the great tide of conversion that has flowed so unusually, has\n  passed through the two classes to which Father Ignatius himself\n  belonged, that of the clergy and that of the gentry. It is a\n  wonderful result following a most unprecedented combination of the\n  voices of Catholic souls of many nations in prayer, set in motion by\n  the very man who is summing up the result of the work, before he\n  goes to his reward; nor do I believe, although his tongue is silent,\n  and his features settled into cold obstruction, as we looked on them\n  last night, that the prayer of his soul has ceased; no, his work\n  goes on, his Apostleship is not dead. Purged by the sacrifice, I\n  seem to see his spirit all this time. For you know that when a holy\n  man quits this life, and has not loved it as he has loved God, he\n  goes away no further than God, and God is very near to us. Have you\n  never lost a dear parent or a child, and have you not found that\n  when freed from the body the spirit of that one had more power over\n  you; seemed to be freer to be with you at all solemn times, and to\n  impress you with its purely spiritual qualities and virtues, all\n  gross things having ceased though the purification of death and the\n  final grace? and so I conceive his {520} spirit standing by my side\n  and saying still, at each interval of my voice,--\"Pray for England:\n  pray for her conversion.\" To you, fathers of the rude frieze,\n  brethren of his Order, with the name of Christ on your breast, and\n  the love of His passion in your heart, he says--\"Pray for England:\n  pray for her conversion.\" Superiors of the Benedictine Order, whom a\n  special circumstance has brought here to-day, Father\n  President-General, representative of St. Benedict, as of St.\n  Augustine, and monastic successor of that first Apostle of England,\n  to you, and to you, Priors of the Order, he says--\"Fail not from\n  the work of your forefathers, pray for England: pray for her\n  conversion.\" To you, brethren of the priesthood, men consecrated to\n  this mission, who know his voice familiarly, to you he says with the\n  burning desire of his heart,--\"Pray for England: pray for her\n  conversion.\" Daughters of the virginal veil, who are his children,\n  whilst in the inferior soul you suffer the grief of loss, in your\n  superior soul you rejoice that he is with God; to you also he\n  says:--\"Pray for England: pray for her conversion.\" Dearly beloved\n  brethren, how often in his missions and his ministries has he\n  written those words upon your hearts. Let them not die out. Let them\n  live on with something of his flame of charity. Be you as his\n  missioners; carry these words to your children and your brethren. He\n  prays yet, and will ever pray until the work be finished. Even in\n  the presence of his God, neither the awe nor the majesty of that\n  unspeakable presence can I conceive as interrupting the prayer which\n  has become a portion of his nature--\"God, have mercy on England.\n  Turn, O Jesus, Thy meek eyes upon that people. Let pity drop from\n  Thy glorious wounds, and mercy from Thy heart. In what she is blind,\n  in what she sins, forgive her, for she knows not what she does. Have\n  mercy on England.\" When joined to his beloved Dominic, and with\n  blessed Paul, and meeting Gregory, and Augustine, and Bede, I\n  conceive him urging them to join yet more earnestly with the prayers\n  he left ascending from the earth, following his mission still in the\n  heavens; nay, even pressing to be heard in the circles of the\n  angels, whose meekness and purity he loved so well, and {521} still\n  his cry is: \"Pray for England: pray for her conversion.\"\n\n  It remains for us to turn one last look upon his mortal remains, to\n  consider our own mortality, and to prepare us for our approaching\n  end. How beautiful, how sublime was his departure. Father Ignatius\n  had often wished and prayed that, like his Divine Lord, like St.\n  Francis Xavier, and like his dear friend and master in the spiritual\n  life, Father Dominic, he might die at his post, yet deserted and\n  alone. God granted him that prayer. He had just closed one mission\n  and was proceeding to another; he turned aside for an hour on his\n  way to converse with a dear friend and godson; he was seen ten\n  minutes before conversing with children. Was he only inquiring his\n  way, or did he utter the last words of his earthly mission to those\n  young hearts? And here alone, unseen but of God and His angels, he\n  fell down, and that heart which had beaten so long for the love and\n  conversion of England stopped in his bosom. Crucified was he in his\n  death as in his life to this world, that he might live to God.\n\nWhen his lordship, the Bishop, descended from the pulpit, the\nprocession to the place of burial was formed, and issued from the\nchurch in the following order, the choir singing the _Miserere_:--\n\n  The Children of the Schools of the Convent of the Holy Child.\n\n  The Rev. Father Bernard (Superior of the Order of Passionists,\n  Paris), carrying a Cross, and having on each side an Acolyte,\n  bearing a lighted candle.\n\n  The Thurifer.\n\n  Boys two abreast.\n\n  The Regular Clergy.\n\n  The Secular Clergy.\n\n  THE COFFIN.\n\n  The Lord Bishop of Birmingham.\n\n  The Laity.\n\nAs the melancholy _cort\u00e9ge_ moved along, the clergy chanted the\n_Miserere_, and when the procession arrived at the vault, {522} the\ncoffin (which was of deal) was placed inside a leaden one, which was\nagain enclosed in an outer shell of oak. Upon this was a black plate,\nbearing the following inscription:--\n\n  FATHER IGNATIUS OF ST. PAUL\n\n  (THE HON. AND REV. GEORGE SPENCER)\n\n  DIED OCT. 1, 1864, AGED 65 YEARS.\n\n  _R. I. P._\n\nPlaced inside the coffin was a leaden tablet, on which the following\nwas engraved:--\n\n  \"MORTALES EXUVIAE\n\n  \"Patris Ignatii a S. Paulo, Congregationis Passionis, de Comitibus\n  Spencer. Minister Anglicanus primum; dein, ad Ecclesiam Catholicam\n  conversus, sacerdotio Romae insignitus est anno 1832. Mirum, qua\n  animi constantia per triginta et amplius annos pro conversione\n  patriae laboraverat. Inter alumnos Passionis anno 1847 adscriptus,\n  omnium virtutum exemplar confratribus semper extitit. Angliam,\n  Hiberniam, Scotiam, necnon Italiam, Germaniam, et Galliam\n  peragravit, populum exhortans ad propriam sanctificationem, et ut,\n  veluti sacro agmine inito, preces fundant pro conversione Anglise.\n  Dum perjucundum opus in Scotia prosequeretur, calendis Octobris anni\n  1864, sacrificio missae peracto, ad invisendum antiquae\n  consuetudinis amicum (Dom. Robertum Monteith) pergens, ante januam\n  amici repentino morbo correptus, a Deo cujus gloriam semper\n  quesierat et ab angelis quorum puritatem imitaverat, opitulatus,\n  supremam diem clausit, aetatis suae anno 65to. Requiescat in pace.\"\n\n  TRANSLATION.\n\n   The mortal remains of Father Ignatius of St. Paul, belonging to the\n   Congregation of the Passion, and of the noble family of Spencer. He\n   was at first an Anglican minister; then, having been converted to\n   the Catholic Church, was ordained into the priesthood at Rome in\n   the year 1832. It is wonderful with what constancy of mind for more\n   than thirty years he laboured for the conversion of his country.\n   {523} He was numbered among the sons of the Passion in the year\n   1847, and always presented an example of all virtues to his\n   brethren. He travelled through England, Ireland, Scotland, and even\n   Italy, Germany, and France, exhorting the people to their own\n   sanctification, and forming themselves, as it were, into a sacred\n   army, to pour forth prayers for the conversion of England. While he\n   was prosecuting his pleasing work in Scotland, on the 1st of\n   October, 1864, and, having offered up the sacrifice of the mass, he\n   was going on a visit to a friend he had long been acquainted with\n   (Mr. Robert Monteith), when he was carried off by sudden death in\n   front of his friend's door, being assisted by God, whose glory he\n   had ever sought, and by the angels whose purity he had imitated. He\n   closed his life in the 65th year of his age. May he rest in peace.\"\n\nWhen all the arrangements were completed, the coffin was placed upon\nthe tier appropriated for its reception, and the bishop and clergy\nretired.\n\nThus has ended the life of one who for fifteen years pursued his\nmissionary work, as a priest of the Order of the Passion, with an\nardour that has seldom been surpassed. Truly may it be said of him,\n\"Dying, he lives.\"\n\nFavours are said to have been obtained from heaven through his\nintercession, since his death; and it is even recorded that miracles\nhave been performed by his relics. These facts have not been, as yet,\nsufficiently authenticated for publication; and, therefore, it is\njudged better not to insert them. We confidently hope that a few years\nwill see him enrolled in the catalogue of saints, as the first English\nConfessor since the Reformation.\n\nEvery step we make, as we recede from this last scene, brings us\nnearer to the moment when the requiescat ought to be heard over\nourselves. For\n\n  \"The pride of luxury, the pomp of power,\n     And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,\n   Await alike the inevitable hour;--\n     The paths of glory lead but to the grave.\"\n\nHow vain is a life spent in pursuit of riches! when the {524} shroud\nthat envelops our bones will have to be given us. How vain are the\nappliances of comfort and pleasure which wealth can spread around us!\nwhen the body we pamper is to be the food of worms. How vain, is power\nand extent of territory! when the snapping of the thread of our\nexistence will leave us completely in the hands of others, and confine\nus to less than seven feet of earth.\n\nLet the example of the holy Passionist, whose life we studied, make us\nrecognise this truth, before it is too late--that all is vanity but\nthe service of God. He tasted the sweets of this world until he found\nout their bitterness; let his example deter others from plunging into\nthe whirl of dissipation, from which few can come out uninjured. He\nlaid down his honours, his titles, his property, at the foot of the\ncross, and he joyfully placed _its_ transverse beams upon his\nshoulder. There was nothing this world could give him which he did not\nsacrifice unhesitatingly. He never took back from the altar a single\nparticle of the offerings he placed upon it. Since the moment he\nunderstood that the end of his existence was the happiness of the\nblessed, he went straight to his eternal goal, and turned not to the\nright hand nor to the left. God was always in his mind; God was on his\nlips; God was in his works. We cannot admire his sacrifices, for it\nwould be a mistake to suppose his mind was not noble enough to feel\nthat all he could give was only a barter of earth for heaven.\n\nLet the world applaud its heroes, and raise expensive monuments to\nremind others of their renown. Father Ignatius sought not the praise\nof the world; its frowns were all he desired. He looked not for its\nsympathy, he crossed its ways, he gave the lie to its maxims, he\ntrampled it under his feet. But the servants of God will not forget\nhim. They will turn off the high road to come as pilgrims to the spot\nwhere his pure soul left its earthly tenement. To mark out the place,\nMr. Monteith has erected a cross upon the corner of the avenue where\nthe saintly father fell. Subjoined is an engraving of the monument,\nand it fitly closes up this history, as it perpetually points to his\nexample.\n\n{525}\n\n\nON THIS SPOT THE HONBLE. AND REV. GEORGE SPENCER,\nIN RELIGION, FATHER IGNATIUS OF ST. PAUL, PASSIONIST,\nWHILE IN THE MIDST OF HIS LABOURS\nFOR THE SALVATION OF SOULS, AND THE RESTORATION OF HIS\nCOUNTRYMEN TO THE UNITY OF THE FAITH, WAS SUDDENLY\nCALLED BY HIS HEAVENLY MASTER TO HIS\nETERNAL HOME. OCTOBER 1ST, 1864.\n     _R.I.P._\n\n\n{526}\n\nCox And Wyman,\nClassical And General Printers,\nGreat Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields.\n\n\n[Transcriber's Note: The following list contains the words and names\nflagged by the spell check, and verified by inspection.]\n\nAEgina\nAEolus\nAbbate\nAbbaye\nAbb\u00e9\nAberdovey\nAberystwyth\nAcatholicorum\nAccademia\nAchensee\nAchenthal\nAcland\nAddolorata\nAdige\nAdolphus\nAdonises\nAebel\nAffetti\nAffi\nAfra\nAgneses\nAgrippa\nAhamo\nAigle\nAirdrie\nAix\nAlban\nAlbano\nAlbemarle\nAlbergo\nAlbero\nAlcantara\nAlessandro\nAlleine\nAloysiuses\nAlphonsus\nAlraschid\nAlte\nAlthorp\nAmbrosian\nAmelia\nAmhersts\nAmiens\nAmphitheatre\nAmpleforth\nAnastasius\nAncona\nAngleur\nAngliae\nAngliam\nAnglicanus\nAnglise\nAnnecy\nAnnonciades\nAntonelli\nApostolical\nApostolici\nApostolics\nApostolines\nApostolorum\nAppleyard\nArcadinia\nArchimedes\nArchivium\nArdee\nArfi\nArgentaro\nAriopolis\nArius\nArmagh\nArmytage\nAthenry\nAucy\nAuer\nAugsburg\nAugustin\nAugustine\nAugustus\nAuxerre\nAuxonne\nAvona\nBac\nBacten\nBadische\nBagshawe\nBaily\nBaines\nBains\nBaldacconi\nBallina\nBallinasloe\nBallinrobe\nBallycastle\nBallyshannon\nBandry\nBarbarossa\nBareau\nBarnabites\nBarnab\u00f2\nBarnet\nBaronne\nBarras\nBarrington\nBasiaco\nBasse\nBattersea\nBaudry\nBavino\nBavi\u00e8re\nBayerische\nBeauharnais\nBeauvais\nBede\nBella\nBellaymont\nBelley\nBenvenuto\nBerchtesgaden\nBergamo\nBergues\nBermondsey\nBernardine\nBernardines\nBernardites\nBertin\nBessy\nBethusy\nBeveridge\nBighi\nBingham\nBirkenhead\nBirr\nBishopsgate\nBlackbrook\nBlackstone\nBlaise\nBlanc\nBlanco\nBlandford\nBlore\nBlount\nBobbio\nBodalog\nBodenham\nBolognaro\nBolton\nBonald\nBoniface\nBonqu\u00e9an\nBootle\nBopeep\nBorris\nBosketto\nBossuet\nBotanique\nBotolph\nBotzen\nBoulanger\nBoulogne\nBourgoigne\nBourgoiner\nBourj\u00e9ant\nBouverie\nBouvet\nBracebridge\nBradshaw\nBrampton\nBramston\nBrenner\nBrera\nBrescia\nBridget\nBridgman\nBrigy\nBrixen\nBrock\nBroek\nBuckinghamshire\nBunyan\nBurchall\nB\u00e9guinage\nB\u00e9guinages\nCaesars\nCaestryck\nCaffi\nCalasanctius\nCaldaro\nCaldaron\nCalddaron\nCallaghan\nCaltern\nCalvario\nCamaldolese\nCambrai\nCameriere\nCamperdown\nCancellaria\nCanonico\nCanova\nCantius\nCapellani\nCapellano\nCapellari\nCapistrano\nCapitoline\nCapriana\nCapua\nCardham\nCarit\u00e0\nCarlow\nCarlsruhe\nCarlton\nCarnarvon\nCarrara\nCarraway\nCarrick\nCarrickmacross\nCarstairs\nCarthusian\nCartsdyke\nCasiua\nCastello\nCastlebar\nCastlerea\nCatholicam\nCatholici\nCatholicising\nCatullus\nCaudatario\nCavallesi\nCavani\nCavanis\nCavendish\nCellini\nCelso\nCenis\nCertosa\nChaillot\nChamberry\nChanoine\nChanoinesses\nChapelle\nCharg\u00e9\nCharit\u00e9\nCharnpagnole\nCheapside\nChilde\nCholmley\nChombard\nChristies\nChrom\nChrysostom\nChr\u00e9tienne\nChr\u00e9tiennes\nChurchism\nCigne\nCitt\u00e0\nClaires\nClarendon\nClerkenwell\nClermont\nClogher\nCoatbridge\nCoblentz\nCoeur\nCointe\nColae\nColeridge\nColetines\nCollegio\nCollinge\nColney\nColomba\nColossians\nColumb\nColumbanus\nComitibus\nComplin\nComte\nConden\nConfr\u00e9rie\nConnaught\nConnexion\nConstantius\nConsultors\nConte\nContessa\nContrada\nConvardy\nConventual\nCooke\nCornelius\nCorte\nCostello\nCottril\nCoultins\nCouncillor\nCouronne\nCourtene\nCouvent\nCoux\nCovent\nCowper\nCranmer\nCrawley\nCroix\nCromwellian\nCrowe\nCrusoe\nCullinamore\nCullinge\nCumming\nCussel\nCuthbert\nDamasus\nDamietta\nDandolo\nDaubeny\nDecanus\nDenison\nDenys\nDeo\nDeschamps\nDesgenettes\nDessin\nDeum\nDevon\nDezenzano\nDieu\nDigby\nDigbys\nDirecteur\nDivisione\nDoddridge\nDoge\nDolors\nDoluny\nDomely\nDomenico\nDomini\nDomitian\nDomodossola\nDomscholasticus\nDonnel\nDonnet\nDoogan\nDoria\nDorsetshire\nDouane\nDouay\nDougall\nDrei\nDrogheda\nDrummond\nDrury\nDubois\nDuc\nDudley\nDugdale\nDuggan\nDumez\nDuncannon\nDundalk\nDundas\nDungannon\nDunton\nDuomo\nDurer\nDurier\nDurlet\nD\u00e9singy\nD\u00f6llinger\nEXUVIAE\nEasky\nEcclesiam\nEcclesiasticus\nEcoles\nEconome\nEdgware\nEgna\nEhrhart\nElmesly\nElwes\nEly\nEnnis\nEnniscrone\nEnniskillen\nEpiscopi\nEplingen\nErrington\nErroye\nEryx\nEsterhazy\nEtonians\nEustachio\nEyre\nEzechiel\nFalconeria\nFerdinand\nFeretti\nFerrara\nFerrario\nFerrarrio\nFerronaye\nFestus\nFidele\nFiumicino\nFlandre\nFlorentin\nFloriano\nFolkestone\nFontainebleau\nFornari\nFrancesi\nFranchismes\nFrari\nFratelli\nFrati\nFratte\nFreakley\nFremantle\nFriot\nFroud\nFrujberg\nFr\u00e8res\nFumagalli\nGaetano\nGagliardi\nGallard\nGalliam\nGalway\nGand\nGanymede\nGarda\nGardiner\nGarendon\nGarnault\nGasthof\nGaudentius\nGavan\nGa\u00e8ta\nGenevese\nGenoese\nGentili\nGeorgiana\nGeorgio\nGermain\nGermaniam\nGermanico\nGernetto\nGervase\nGesang\nGesangen\nGes\u00f9\nGhent\nGibbs\nGideon\nGillies\nGingolph\nGiovanelli\nGirardon\nGiuseppe\nGiustiniani\nGlassbrooke\nGloucester\nGlyptotheke\nGodley\nGorey\nGorres\nGort\nGothsburg\nGottez\nGraf\nGraffanara\nGrahame\nGramont\nGrandvilliers\nGrantham\nGratz\nGreci\nGreenock\nGrenville\nGrettan\nGriffiths\nGrimstone\nGrirgenti\nGrises\nGrosvenor\nGrue\nGr\u00e2ce\nGudule\nGustavus\nGuttenburg\nG\u00e9n\u00e9ral\nG\u00f6ppingen\nG\u00f6rres\nG\u00f6rreses\nHaffreingue\nHagley\nHalford\nHallein\nHampstead\nHandley\nHandsworth\nHanicq\nHapsburg\nHarleston\nHaroun\nHavant\nHavre\nHeadfort\nHeber\nHendren\nHeneage\nHeywood\nHiberniam\nHighgate\nHilary\nHildersham\nHildyard\nHilloa\nHinckley\nHippolyte\nHodder\nHoffa\nHolborn\nHolme\nHolyhead\nHornby\nHornsey\nHospitalieres\nHospitali\u00e8res\nHowley\nHumanarianism\nHyde\nH\u00f4tel\nH\u00fcffler\nIgnatii\nIgnatius\nIgnazio\nIllyricum\nImola\nImperiale\nInglesi\nInnspruck\nInspruck\nIrvingites\nIsabella\nIsola\nItaliam\nJacquenot\nJandel\nJanuarius\nJaques\nJardin\nJauch\nJaudel\nJeffreys\nJesu\nJette\nJeune\nJohnstone\nJulien\nJura\nKells\nKempis\nKenilworth\nKentish\nKernane\nKildare\nKilkenny\nKillala\nKille\nKinnaird\nKirche\nKirchen\nKissengen\nKitzka\nKnickerbocker\nKoenigswinter\nKreutz\nKrone\nKrono\nKurtzrock\nK\u00f6ln\nK\u00f6lner\nK\u00f6nig\nK\u00f6nigswinter\nL'Arco\nL'Hospice\nL'H\u00f4pital\nLago\nLaibach\nLaing\nLanark\nLancashire\nLandeck\nLandherr\nLapons\nLateran\nLavinia\nLavorno\nLazarists\nLazzari\nLazzaro\nLeSage\nLeamington\nLefevre\nLeicestershire\nLeinster\nLeith\nLeuchtenberg\nLevenshulme\nLichfield\nLichtenthal\nLiguori\nLingdale\nLintz\nLitchenstein\nLithgoe\nLi\u00e8ge\nLi\u00e9ge\nLlanarth\nLoewenstein\nLondonderry\nLondra\nLondres\nLongford\nLorenzo\nLorrha\nLothaire\nLoughborough\nLoughren\nLouvain\nLowther\nLucan\nLucca\nLuigi\nLurgan\nLutzou\nLyall\nLyne\nLythgoe\nLyttelton\nM'Auley\nM'Donnel\nM'Ghee\nM'Hale\nMacMahon\nMackey\nMacky\nMaddalena\nMadeleine\nMaestricht\nMaggiora\nMaggiore\nMaguire\nMahomedanism\nMai\nMaison\nMaitland\nMalibren\nMalines\nMalou\nManheim\nManige\nMannering\nMantua\nMantz\nMarais\nMarano\nMarenn\nMarlborough\nMarsomme\nMartigny\nMartyn\nMarys\nMar\u00e9ehal\nMatraey\nMatsys\nMatthias\nMaude\nMawman\nMaximilian\nMayence\nMaynooth\nMcHale\nMeagher\nMelia\nMellerio\nMellon\nMercati\nMercede\nMerionethshire\nMessias\nMethodistic\nMezzofanti\nMgr\nMildert\nMilli\u00e8re\nMirum\nMiserere\nMislin\nMissionum\nMis\u00e9ricorde\nMittewald\nModena\nMohren\nMoneti\nMongeras\nMonico\nMonreale\nMont\nMontalembert\nMontebello\nMonteith\nMontmartre\nMontrose\nMonza\nMorey\nMorley\nMoselle\nMoy\nMullingar\nMungo\nMus\u00e9e\nM\u00e8re\nM\u00f6rl\nM\u00fchler\nM\u00fcnster\nNamur\nNannette\nNantes\nNavarino\nNeill\nNemfchatel\nNeri\nNerincx\nNerlieu\nNeuenburg\nNeumarkt\nNeuve\nNewgate\nNewry\nNicholl\nNicholls\nNives\nNobil\nNobottle\nNoires\nNoirlieu\nNore\nNorthampton\nNorthamptonshire\nNottinghamshire\nNovara\nNuelleus\nNunzio\nNymphenburg\nNyon\nO'Connell\nO'Donnel\nO'Flynn\nO'Kane\nO'Keefe\nO'Reilly\nOEdipus\nOakeley\nObservantiae\nOctobris\nOdescalchi\nOldbury\nOllivant\nOmagh\nOmer\nOppido\nOratorian\nOratorians\nOrioli\nOsmond\nOspitaletto\nOstend\nOsteria\nOtaheitan\nOudley\nOuseley\nOverbury\nOvid\nOxburgh\nOxley\nOxonians\nPacci\nPackenham\nPaderborn\nPadua\nPagliano\nPalais\nPalladio\nPallotta\nPalmerston\nPaoli\nPapi\nPapin\nParoco\nPasaro\nPasquale\nPassaglia\nPassi\nPassio\nPassionis\nPassionists\nPasssionists\nPatit\nPatris\nPauvres\nPavia\nPazzi\nPearse\nPeasly\nPensieri\nPeppenheim\nPercival\nPersico\nPerugia\nPesaro\nPeterborough\nPeterbro\nPetits\nPffarr\nPhillippses\nPicquart\nPiedmontese\nPietra\nPietro\nPilsach\nPinacotheke\nPio\nPittsburg\nPlacentia\nPlainpalais\nPolidori\nPoligny\nPollien\nPoole\nPorte\nPortobello\nPoste\nPostes\nPowys\nPoynter\nPo\u00e8te\nPremonstratensian\nPritchard\nProtase\nPr\u00e9montr\u00e9\nPugin\nPuseyite\nP\u00e8re\nP\u00e8res\nQuarant\nQuater\nQuelin\nQuin\nQuintin\nRaal\nRaby\nRadhoff\nRaffaele\nRaffaelle\nRainhill\nRathmines\nRatisbonne\nReale\nRecollets\nReddington\nRedemptorist\nRedemptorists\nRedentore\nReggio\nRegierung\nReichenbach\nReichenhall\nReiner\nReligieuses\nRennel\nResburg\nReverendus\nRevolutionnaire\nRiland\nRimini\nRios\nRiva\nRobertum\nRoch\nRodolph\nRodrigues\nRoehampton\nRomae\nRomney\nRomonam\nRosamel\nRoscommon\nRosinini\nRoskell\nRosmini\nRossiaud\nRotundo\nRousses\nRoveredo\nRovigo\nRoyale\nRugeley\nRyde\nR\u00e9guli\u00e8res\nSabbato\nSacrement\nSacr\u00e9\nSainte\nSalesiani\nSalford\nSalle\nSalut\nSalvian\nSancto\nSankey\nSaul\nSayburne\nScaligeri\nScheppers\nSchlager\nSchlussheim\nScholfield\nSchutz\nSchwartzenberg\nScotiam\nScylla\nSeager\nSebastians\nSecours\nSedgeley\nSedgley\nSegnini\nSegreto\nSemei\nSens\nSenufft\nSepulchrines\nServites\nSestri\nSevres\nSharples\nShenton\nShrewsbury\nSibthorpe\nSigismund\nSilvestro\nSimeon\nSimeonites\nSimplon\nSion\nSisk\nSitientis\nSitorstro\nSlattery\nSligo\nSnowdon\nSociet\u00e0\nSocinians\nSoeur\nSoeurs\nSomal\nSomers\nSonne\nSophia\nSouthcote\nSouthport\nSouthwark\nSpence\nSpencers\nSpiritu\nSpoleto\nSta\nStadler\nStafford\nStaffordshire\nSte\nSteigmeier\nStockport\nStourbridge\nStowell\nStrabane\nStrarzing\nStrass\nStrictioris\nStromboli\nStuttgard\nSubdiaconate\nSuide\nSuir\nSuisse\nSulpice\nSumner\nSunderland\nSuperiores\nSuperioress\nSutrio\nSweers\nSwithin\nSyriac\nS\u00e9ez\nS\u00e9minaire\nTallier\nTavel\nTavola\nTegern\nTeresas\nTerracina\nTertiariae\nTheatine\nTheophilus\nThillay\nThistlethwick\nThonon\nThornton\nThorntons\nThorwaldse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npraesertim\nprebendary\npreces\nprimissario\nprimum\nprobetur\nproindeque\npromovere\npromptings\npropositionesque\npropriam\nprosequeretur\nprostrations\npr\u00e8s\npr\u00f4ne\npuritatem\nquam\nquesierat\nquod\nqu\u00eate\nratione\nrealise\nrecens\nrecognise\nrecognised\nreconquest\nreductio\nreflectiones\nregum\nreinhabited\nrelaxations\nreliefs\nrelievos\nremodelled\nrepentino\nrudenesses\nrumour\nrumours\nr\u00e9diger\nsacerdotio\nsacrae\nsacrificio\nsacro\nsalus\nsalut\nsanctificatione\nsanctificationem\nsandalled\nsatagit\nsatis\nsavouring\nsawney\nscagliola\nscarfs\nscattereth\nsceptical\nsceptically\nscepticism\nschismatics\nscienze\nscrupulosities\nscuole\nsemel\nsemper\nseptem\nseptembris\nservabit\nshopman\nsigno\nsouper\nsoupers\nsoutanes\nspettacolo\nspiritum\nsplendour\nsplendours\nstertation\nstipendio\nsuae\nsuggestors\nsupremam\nsvegliarino\nsympathise\nsympathised\nsympathising\ntemporals\ntenour\ntesta\ntestimonialibus\nthurifer\nthurifers\ntibi\ntinging\ntitulo\ntravellings\ntriginta\ntriptic\ntrouv\u00e9s\ntr\u00e9sor\ntuo\nt\u00eate\nunbaptized\nunburthen\nuncanonically\nunclerical\nunfavourable\nunicum\nunravelling\nunsetting\nunviolated\nut\nutterings\nveluti\nvento\nvestiaria\nvetturino\nvicaire\nvicario\nvielliards\nviewiness\nvigour\nvillegiatura\nviribus\nvirtutum\nvis\nvoiturier\nvolumus\nvotis\nvoto\nwagen\nwaggon\nwailings\nwhithersoever\nwilful\nwilfully\nwrapt\nzum\n\u00c9coles\n\u00c9cu\n\u00c9tienne\n\u00c9v\u00e9ch\u00e9\n\u00e9lite\n\u00e9v\u00each\u00e9\n\n[Transcriber's Note: End spell check list.]","title":"Life of Father Ignatius of St. Paul, Passionist (The Hon. & Rev. George Spencer).","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":194127}