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Chapter V

A Well Filled Day

The College bell rang out at an early hour to call the Community of Montesion for the work of a new day. But two hours earlier St. Alonso had risen from the slight rest which he allowed himself. As there was neither bell nor call to awake him, he attributed his regular rising to his good angel.1 Immediately his heart fixed itself on his Lord and His Blessed Mother; and he said, “O, God! come to my assistance. O, Lord! make haste to help me! Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost.” He then began to say, as he was dressing, the Litany of Our Lady,2 and went on to commend himself to God and to make acts of thanksgiving, with a firm resolution for the love of God to do and to bear still more for Him. He then made a sign of the Cross and adored the Most Blessed Trinity, reciting in Its honour the Canticle of praise, the “Te Deum.” When he said the words, “Deign O Lord this day to keep us without sin,” Alonso used to call to mind that that day might be his last.

He then began the immediate preparation for his morning meditation. He humbly begged leave of God to be allowed to deal with Him in prayer, although so unworthy, on account of guiltiness, to come in the presence of so good a Lord, and made many fervent acts of sorrow for having offended Him. Then, according to St. Ignatius’ formula, he besought for grace that all he should do, in memory, mind, and will, should be entirely for God’s honour and glory, and he offered it all up to Him. And so, as if he had received the permission which he had asked, with three deep reverences, and lifting up his heart to God, he commenced his Meditation.

The first three years of his conversion had been, as has been said, passed in the depths of the sea of purgation, and he came forth from the consideration of its terrible trials, purified and fit to gaze on higher things. The life of Our Blessed Lord, and especially the mysteries of His Sacred Passion and Death next became the subject-matter of his meditations; but now, in the intimate union to which he had arrived, his heart, rather than his mind was employed, for no sooner did he begin to meditate than he was united closely to God, and he besought Him with all earnestness to give him what he needed. He did not so much speak, as see. Our Blessed Lord was present to him in the mystery which he had before him, and to Him he laid open the needs of his soul. He himself has written that the best kind of petition is when the soul has learned that all hope is in God, and that no sort of trust can be placed in oneself, for this conviction forces Our Lord to give, for He has promised ever to hear the cry of the poor and humble of heart.

“If you wish God to give you what you want,” says St. Alonso, “either for yourself or for anyone else, love Him ardently and ask always for that which is to His greatest glory. Love your neighbour and the welfare of your own soul, and be sure He will grant you all you need; for He loves us with an infinite love, and knows what we really need. Thus we hardly require to ask or to wish for any thing, but can leave all care of ourselves to God; and so everything will go right.”

In his account of conscience of 1607, from which most of these details of his daily devotions are taken, St. Alonso gives us the following description of the way in which he spent his meditation. It probably will serve as a fair sample of his prayer for many years previous to that date. “And what he”—our Saint is speaking of himself in the third person—“treats of with God is that, by the great love which he has for His Majesty and for Jesus Christ and Our Lady the Virgin Mary and for all his neighbours, he begs His Lord to grant him these three, as it were, infinite loves—an infinite love of God, of Jesus, and of Mary and of his neighbours; and also the salvation of the whole world, and that Our Lord would grant also that he might rather suffer all the pains of hell, in a state of grace, than that His Majesty should be offended, or that anyone should be lost; but rather that all should serve Him and enjoy Him (hereafter); and he asks the same of Our Lady, that She may obtain it for him from God. This is the chief prayer which this person employs, and it lasts for three-quarters of an hour. Then he thanks God for all the mercies He has given him at that time, and through his whole life; and he concludes the hour of meditation with a petition to God Our Lord for the needs which have been commended to his prayers, and those for which he is bound to pray, and for his own private wants.”3

The devotions which he recited out of the hour’s meditation of rule were the following:—A Pater and Ave five times, in honour of the five Wounds and of the Passion, asking through their merits to live as Jesus lived, to suffer as He suffered, and to be a close imitator of Him. He recited daily the Office of the Immaculate Conception, begging Mary to obtain of her Son, by the sacred spotlessness in which she was conceived, “holy even before her birth,” to keep him spotless as an angel from sin, so as to be pleasing to God; and, last of all, the Hail Mary and Salve Regina, twelve times, in memory of Our Lady’s purity, as has been told above in the last chapter, to ask her each of the twenty-four hours to implore her Son to keep him from all fault. For the same reason he committed each of the twenty-four hours to twenty-four saints, to his Angel Guardian, to St. Ildephonsus, his patron, St. Gabriel, St. Raphael, SS. Peter and Paul, John the Baptist and John the Evangelist, St. James of Spain, St. Matthias (the last of the twelve), St. Joseph, St. Laurence, St. Francis of Assisi, SS. Cosmas and Damian, St. Joachim and St. Anne, St. Mary Magdalen and Mary of Egypt, St. Ursula and her 11,000 virgins, SS. Elizabeth and Zachary, St. Anthony (probably of Padua), and St. Blaise.4 Besides this he recited his rosary of Our Lady once or oftener each day. Also a rosary for a happy death, repeating this prayer, “O Lord, by Thy sacred Passion and death, I beseech Thee to grant me a very good life, a thorough death to all my faults and passions and self-love, and clear lights of Thy holy faith, hope and charity.” To this he added the rosary of the Holy Names, saying “Mary, be a Mary to me,” and “Jesus, be a Jesus to me,” thirty-three times, in honour of the thirty-three years of Our Blessed Lord’s life.

No bell during the day met with so joyous a response from St. Alonso as that which summoned him to Mass. And anyone could tell by his eagerness, and by the joy which was stamped on his face, whither he was going. No excuse was ever allowed to prevent him from obeying the summons with the greatest promptitude. And when people in the church knew that he was going to serve Mass at any particular altar, they flocked there to hear it, that they might enjoy the additional privilege of watching him during that holy time. His face was lighted up by the fire of devotion from within, and tears continually fell from his eyes. More than ever after Holy Communion, a brightness was often seen to shine from his countenance which shot up to the very ceiling, staying over him till the door-bell called him from his prayers. No wonder that the Fathers strove to secure him as their server, for they felt a new fervour when he was at their side. Nor did St. Alonso ever miss the chance of serving Mass.

No wonder, too, that his devotion was so intense; for God drew back for him the veil. Once, going to Holy Communion, while serving Mass5, he saw our Lord, under the form of a lovely and well-favoured baby boy, with dimples in its little shoulders, and the vision re-appeared while the priest was communicating a number of people, each time they received, while he followed the priest to give a drink of water, as is the custom, to each of the numerous communicants. The sight filled him with a holy confusion, he hardly knew where he was, or what he was doing, so penetrated was he with humility.

Another time, while serving at the High Altar, our Blessed Lord appeared standing on the altar at the Gospel side, dressed as when upon earth, in a long robe. His face was beautiful; His complexion was dark, almost a nut-brown, but full of the mystery of the Godhead. The modesty of His eyes and the calm of His countenance were wonderful. He served as a model to His faithful servant, to whom He preached by His very looks. Our Saint saw in them as in a mirror, during the brief space that the vision lasted, great spiritual and interior treasures. Such virtue and power was there in this apparition of Our Blessed Lord, that every time in after life St. Alonso recollected it he felt great modesty and fervour, and a change such as comes over one in a fervent prayer, for it seemed to him as though Jesus Christ sent into his heart a live spark which struck his soul, and calmed it and made it better. And, though it was twelve years6 after its occurrence when, by his director’s orders, he recorded it, the impression was as fresh and active as ever, nor could he ever forget it.

During the early years of his religious life, St. Alonso communicated weekly, and always in floods of tears. A gentleman of high family in Palma, Don Hugh Net, was kneeling behind him one day as he made his thanksgiving, and was so struck by his piety that he stooped down and kissed the sole of his foot.

Each time that he served Mass, he renewed his vows after the elevation, adoring Our Dear Lord profoundly there present. He has left on record the formula which he was accustomed to employ.7 “Oh, eternal Father, my God and my Lord! How many times I have uttered these words, in Poverty and Obedience and Chastity, according to the Constitutions of the Society! I beseech Thee, my Lord, to pardon me all my faults in this matter of obedience, and in all the rest; and give me grace to serve Thee with great perfection. And now I say afresh, that I vow and promise to Thy Divine Majesty, in presence of the Most Holy Virgin Mary our Lady, and of all the Heavenly Court, poverty, obedience and chastity, according to the Constitutions of the Society; and I beg that, as Thou hast given me the grace to make this promise, Thou wilt give me very great graces to fulfil it with great perfection. And I beg of Thee, if perchance it be of any worth, that Thou wouldst receive it in thanksgiving for the so great mercy Thou hast done me, in taking me out of the world and bringing me to the Order of the Society, where I am so happy.”

The favour of vocation St. Alonso looked upon as boundless, so that if the whole world tried to do him all good for soul and body it could not come near what God had done for him. And this thought, which was so deeply rooted in his soul, made him exclaim: “Whence then, O, my Lord, can come the infinite love wherewith to love Thee, as I owe so much to Thee? What are the infinite services with which to repay Thee, Who hast done such favours for me? Whence the gratitude for such great benefits and mercies which I have received from Thy Majesty?” He felt overwhelmed in God’s presence, at the sight of all he owed to Him in soul and body, for favours which were well-nigh infinite.

In conclusion, he (St. Alonso) offered to the Eternal Father, in thanksgiving, the merits, the sufferings, the holy life of His Son, Christ Our Lord, and of Mary, His Blessed Mother, because of himself he had nothing which he could offer, as he was “empty of all good, and full of evil.”8

Before the early dinner-hour, in the middle of his busy day, and a second time, in the evening, the bell and St. Ignatius’ rule called Alonso to his examination of conscience. But, like his holy founder, each hour, as soon as it had passed, was called back before his mind, to answer whether the opportunities of merit which it had offered had been turned to their best account. If he chanced then to find that he had been unable to perform any of his fixed devotions during the last hour, he resolved to make up the omission in the next. In his daily examinations, our Saint placed before him His Divine Master and Model, and searchingly demanded, in His sight, whether his looks, his words, his modesty, were faithful copies of his Lord, whether he took his meals, his rest, as his Lord had done, whether he bore injuries like Him, and whether in all things, as Christ ever does, he sought his heavenly Father’s honour. One of his resolutions was to do nothing merely to get done with it, but to perform each action as perfectly as possible in imitation of Our Blessed Lord, and just as if God’s glory and his own salvation depended entirely upon it.

When the bell summoned St. Alonso to his meals, he used to choose, of two ways to the refectory, the most inconvenient and most exposed to the inclemency of the weather.9 For the same reason, at the lavatory at the entrance to the refectory, of two taps, he chose for himself the one which had the least flow of water. During his meals he used to pray with such fervour that, though he tried to conceal it, tears flowed from his eyes, and he sometimes paused for so long a time, that the Rector had to send to remind him to go on with his meals. His soul was, in truth, feeding on another banquet which made him forget altogether the wants of his body. Once while at table, full of the thoughts of his Blessed Mother, he exclaimed “Oh! when shall I see thee in heaven?” “Alonso,” Our Lady answered, “you shall see me in heaven.”

Another day while at dinner, so absorbed was he in prayer, even while eating, that a grape stone got into his throat and nearly choked him. At once he turned to his Blessed Mother, and he had hardly pronounced her name, before she, who never failed him, relieved him from the pain and the peril. And not content with this, Mary obtained for him such an abundance of spiritual joy, such a flood of love and tenderness towards her, as he had never before experienced, so that he felt a conviction that there was nothing he could ask for from her which he was not sure to receive.10

The refectory was thus a place of prayer, but it was not less a place of penance. Up to his latest years he constantly practised acts of humility in the refectory, kissing the feet of the community, eating on the ground, reciting the Miserere while carrying a cross on his shoulders or a cord round his neck. Eating, itself, was to him a trial, because the natural pleasure which it gives seemed likely to turn him from God. To guard against this he made a number of carefully-thought-out resolutions.

They11 are based naturally on St. Ignatius’ directions, “ad temperandum victum,” and on the rules of the Society, and they show how wisely severe he was against his appetite.

1. “If at table what you fancy is carried away, it is God’s wish that you neither take any notice of it nor speak of it, thus conquering yourself for love of Him. And if you have given you what you do not like, it is the will of the same Lord that you do not call attention to this, but take it.

2. Be very careful about modesty, as if God were there before you, so to serve Him the better.

3. When anything is wanting to you, you must not say a word, but be silent about yourself; but if your neighbour is in want of anything, tell the server at once, in order to keep the rule which enjoins this.

4. Do not unfold your napkin till your neighbour has done so, and never be the first to eat or drink.

5. Eat slowly, a little at a time, and quietly, and keep your thoughts more on God than on your meals.

6. Always leave something, and that the best, most agreeable, and tasty part of your helping.

7. Never take any salt to your food, for it merely gives it relish and flavour, and there is no use in that.

8. Always stop eating as soon as anyone folds up his napkin, and never be the last; however long the meal may continue, mortify yourself.

9. At mealtime do not look at anyone, nor even at the helpings which are given to the others, only noticing when anything is wanting to your neighbour, so that you may comply with the requirements of charity and with obedience to the rule.

10. On entering the refectory, take off your cap and lift up your heart to God, offering to Him yourself and all that are at the meal and the whole meal itself, to receive His divine blessing.

11. After you have sat down, say an Our Father and Hail Mary, offering both to the Mother of God, that she may offer them to her only begotten Son for the souls in Purgatory, that He, in turn, may deign to invite them to the banquet of His glory, and may give you grace to serve Him in all things perfectly, and that you may not take the least mouthful nor the least drop more nor less than what His Majesty desires, and in the way He desires, for His honour and glory.”

These rules, which he kept to the letter, gained for him that perfect indifference as to food which will be seen in his later life. He had a special fondness for salt, but he kept rigidly to his resolution always to abstain from it.

When first he came to Majorca, St. Alonso used to eat oranges, which grow there in such plenty and perfection. One day someone told him—and his admonitor does not seem to have been a Superior—that he ate a great many. From that day,12 to punish himself for any over-fondness he might have had for them, he determined never of his own free will to touch them, and he kept this resolution most faithfully, though sometimes he was forced by obedience to take some. When at anytime he was told to eat anything that was toothsome, he used to excite himself to distaste, as if it were something disgusting, and he would humble himself before God at seeing himself so well treated and given what was quite beyond his deserts.13 He was, for the same reason, pleased when any opportunity of mortification was given to him, as when the food was ill-cooked or cold.

Once there was at the college a lay-brother as cook, and Marimon’s description seems to answer to Brother Ruiz, who “was more given to hearing a number of Masses and to saying a number of rosaries than seeing to his work in the kitchen with proper care and cleanliness, though, in spite of his hearing so many Masses every day, he never actually neglected his duties.”14 It was summer time, and the garden bore a large crop of gourds or pumpkins; some of these, however, were quite unfit for the table and were as bitter as “the wild gourds of the fields,” which one of the sons of the prophets gathered for his brethren during the famine in the days of Eliseus; nor, as Father Marimon remarks, was the prophet there with his meal to take away their bitterness.15

Either the Brother in charge of the garden or the cook himself, one day, by mistake, gathered some of the unwholesome sort. The Brother had, a few days before, cooked a dish of gourds in the same way, so he did not think of tasting them this time before he sent them into the refectory. He served them up in separate porringers, one for each person. St. Alonso evidently smelt how disagreeable was the mess which he had before him, for, putting aside some fruit which had been sent in as a first course, he at once, contrary to his rule, began before anyone else to devour with avidity his disgusting plateful, just as if he feared lest he should be baulked in his mortification;16 so that before the others had tasted of the dish, he had finished his portion.

“I was sitting,” says Marimon, “next to the Rector, and when I began my portion, at the first mouthful I found it so unbearable that I spat it out. I took a glass of water to rinse my mouth, and I said with some warmth, ‘Mors est in olla.’17 And so I was the cause of the Superior discovering what was the matter. He at once ordered the server to take away Brother Alonso’s porringer; but it was all too late, for he had eaten up all his portion, and he was actually scraping the plate with his spoon, lest he should leave anything when it was to be carried off.” He was delighted to have had his share in the gall and vinegar of his Lord, but he paid dearly for his self-imposed penance by violent vomitings and colics which lasted several days.

“Such was the bitterness of the gourds that the meat mixed with them proved so nauseous that no one could touch it and all of it was left. That evening, the pious cook, to make up for what had been wanting at noon, after carefully washing the meat several times in water, sent it up dressed with something palatable for supper. But all his pains were of no avail, for even the dogs would not look at it, and it had to be thrown away. The enforced fast which the Brother imposed on the community was for the next few days the subject of many a merry jest; but Brother Alonso, who never talked about food, was the only one who said not a word about it. For several years after, the very smell of gourds caused him positive pain and disgust; but to conquer himself he ate them whenever they were given to him.”18

During the hour’s recreation which followed the midday and evening meals, our Saint was always intensely interested in any conversation that had God or religious matters for its subject; though he rarely spoke himself, and was ever more ready to listen than to talk. But when anyone introduced foolish or useless topics, he either gently endeavoured gradually to lead the conversation back to higher subjects, or, failing in his effort, he dropped asleep; the long vigils he spent in prayer and his daily work sufficiently explain his fatigue.

The following amusing notes written by Father Colin give our Saint’s idea of religious recreation. As St. Alonso later on in life presided at the recreation of the young lay-brother novices, his remarks very probably refer to them.

Francis Colin came to Montesion in 1610, but the paper from which he quotes was most likely written some time before then. Whatever the precise date of these notes of our Saint, they find their place naturally here in the sketch of his day. “He could not endure that, at recreation, the conversation should be on anything else but God, or that the Brothers should be wanting in religious behaviour. To give an idea of what the good Brother thought as to our recreations, it has seemed good to me to publish here a paper which one day I found between the planks and boards of his bed when he had sent me to change his quarters. Though this paper should not be shown to seculars, yet it can be of great use for our own instruction; and, knowing they are the words of a great Saint, we should give to them their due weight. He writes thus with his own hand: “No one should of his own accord go to any place other than the ordinary one for recreation, and he should never pass beyond it.”

“In recreation a woman’s name should never be mentioned, unless it be the name of a canonised saint, and to say something about her which may be a source of great edification to those who are listening. They should not join in or listen to frivolous conversation such as you meet with among seculars, and they should never be so unmindful of modesty as to put one foot over the other.”

Here he makes a fresh heading:

“And what is still more important is:—That the recreation may not often be more truly called ‘inquiete’ than ‘quiete,’19 because peace is lost there; whereas our Holy Father Ignatius has ordered recreation in order that charity and peace may be increased, while the devil contrives that both one and the other are lost. To remedy this, no one should squabble with anyone who is present, for then they begin to play the fool with, and speak ill of, one another; and we see that annoyance is caused, and thus peace is lost and charity diminished.”

“And, should anyone affirm anything, let no one contradict him; for otherwise such contention takes place, that I do not know how they can have any peace when they retire to their rooms; and if there be not peace, how can their charity towards one another increase?”

“The remedy for this is (and I know of no other, for peace is so often disturbed by this means) that there should always be present a Superior, and when anyone contradicts his Brother, he should straightway make the offender kiss the feet of all; and this should be done every day, and a Superior should never be absent, so that this may always be carried out.”

“The devil has resorted to the same device in religious life as he has made use of in the world, where youths are wont to assemble in some house to chat, and there they begin to speak ill of one another, and to tell each other’s faults, and thus the devil gets his own way by bringing in disturbance. When one has just finished his dinner he is easily led to say things for which he is afterwards sorry, unless he restrains his tongue.”

“What one speaks of should be of God, and not the contrary, and then he will always give edification; if not, then he will always be sorrowful, and in trouble, as experience has shown. And to prove this, anyone can see how true it is, not only in others but in himself.”

One day the Fathers and Masters of the College were discussing at recreation the pros or cons as to whether the boys ought to learn to swim. Some thought it was objectionable, because it interfered with their studies and was against modesty. Others more wisely argued that, living on an island, it was necessary to safeguard their boys from danger. Our Saint happened to be present, but was so absorbed in God that he paid no attention to the debate. Father Coch, who was then Rector, asked him if he knew how to swim. “Yes, Father,” was his answer. “Well then, let us see how you do it.” At once he threw himself on the ground and began to strike out with his arms; but the Father, perhaps more than satisfied with the good Brother’s good natured and literal obedience, cried out, “Get up, that’s enough, that’s enough!”

Our Saint was delighted, whenever he could get leave, to go out on visits of charity to the sick poor, either in the General Hospital or in their own homes. Brother Serra, who entered the Society as a lay brother in 1596, tells us how tenderly he encouraged them to patience, and how he offered himself gladly to take on himself their pains, to free them from sufferings.20 Frequently he got leave from his Superiors to go about begging for the poor, and delighted to give out what he had collected—soup, or bread, or money; accompanying his alms with kindly words of good advice, urging the needy to seek strength in the Sacraments, and to bear their troubles with patience and submission.

Whenever St. Alonso had to go out with one of the community, he always went first before his Sacramental God. “Lord,” he said, “if Thou seest that I shall offend Thee while out, though I am going under obedience, take away my life, for Thou alone art my life, and I am resolved to suffer a thousand deaths rather than offend Thee, however slightly.” Then turning to the picture of Our Lady over the High Altar,21 he said to her “Mary, Mother of God, and my Mother, I pray you from the bottom of my soul, to be pleased to be my defender: ask your Son that He may grant me what I ask of Him—Monstra Te esse Matrem, Sumat per Te preces Qui pro nobis natus Tulit esse tuus.” When he had reached the door and had marked his name on the board as “out,” he signed himself with holy water, repeating as he left the college, “Shew unto me, oh Lord, thy ways, and teach me thy paths,” Ps. xxiv., 4. He observed St. Ignatius’ rules of Modesty as strictly when outside as when at home, and was ever recollected. He kept a special guard over his eyes, fixing them on the ground and only looking some two yards ahead, but never lifting them up. He wept over, as a fault, the having merely looked at a passing carriage. Our Saint tells us the reason for this his care. Once as he was going along a street with one of the Fathers, quite unintentionally he lifted up his eyes and he saw a woman, who was an invalid, at a window. He did not recall the fact, nor did he discover the fault, till at his next examination of conscience he learnt it from Our Lady, for she warned him that when he went out he was not to look at anything but the road along which he was going, neither was he ever to look up nor on either side.

It was, as has been seen, the custom in Palma for the server at the altar to give some water to drink after Holy Communion to the communicants, and though St. Alonso had constantly to do this to women in the church, yet he never broke his covenant with his eyes. The ladies called him the “dead Brother.”

Going one day along one of the passages in the upper part of the college, when he came to the tribune which faces the High Altar, St. Alonso lifted his eyes to a Crucifix which stood there. Through a window which was above it, his gaze accidentally fell upon a woman in the azotea or open gallery of a house across the street. So penitent was he for this unintentional glance that he never passed that Crucifix without pulling out some hairs from his head in punishment for his fault. Brother Ripoll,22 a scholastic, tells us that he never could get the holy Brother to go out into the garden attached to the college, or even to come to the door which led out to it, because once when saying his Rosary there, and looking up to heaven, he caught sight of a woman on the gallery of an adjoining house. He said once to his Brother Roca23 in the Porteria, when, from a large window that looked on the street, they could see some women staring at them from the house opposite: “Brother, come away. Women are like demons to men.”

When, later on in life he was out with one of the Fathers in the country, and he met some ladies at dinner in a private house, he sat so modestly and with such reserve that, to use his own expression, he “merely saw them as if they were shadows.” His whole conversation with them was about the emptiness of worldly things, and the importance of serving God here on this earth, as there is no remedy for neglect throughout all eternity.

After the church, the place which Alonso loved best was his room. There was no attempt at comfort there. He would not even keep a flower or a sweet-smelling fruit, for his idea was that the cell of a religious is the tomb of a living man, a mere prison for the body, in order that the soul may find freedom therein; and so it was not right to have anything in it which could fetter the soul. It was, too, in his mind, the path to heaven, and as such he considered that it should be like the way chosen by our Lord, not pleasant and flower-strewn, but painful and thorny. And just for this reason he preferred a room which was stamped with the poverty of his Divine Master. He liked it to be a place where he could be in solitude, so as to be the more sheltered from any risk of faults, and the more united to God. Neither did he ever leave his room save when summoned by obedience or by charity. To wander about the house, he considered, was to expose oneself to breaches of silence and of other rules, and showed little care either for one’s own perfection or for the perfection of others, as neither could ever be obtained save by a spirit of recollection and a love of retirement.

As he led a life of such evident holiness, we cannot be surprised that it got noised abroad that God had given miraculous powers to Alonso, and the result was that he was constantly in request at the bedside of the sick and suffering, who hoped, and with reason, to obtain relief, or a complete cure, at his hands. A gentleman of the island, John Vivot,24 while pursuing a runaway slave, was shot by him in the arm, and the doctors declared the wound to be mortal. He received extreme unction and prepared for death, but his pain was so acute that he begged that Alonso might be sent to him, as he had known him from childhood, as a student at the college. Our Saint accordingly came in company with one of the Jesuit Fathers. He spoke to the invalid of God, and then assured him that he would recover. But when St. Alonso was leaving, the dying man prayed him to make the sign of the cross over his wound, and as the Brother modestly declined, Vivot begged him to give him his hand. The Father bade the holy Brother to do so, and the sick man applied it to his wound. At once the pain began to abate. Vivot was able to move the arm, which had been paralysed; and on touching it a second time with the Saint’s hand, it became still better, and in a few days Don John was perfectly cured. Alonso became his fast friend, and under his influence he began to lead a very holy life.

A surgeon who attended the college, Señor Frais, had a child, two years old, which was a victim to the local fevers. Its parents had in vain tried human remedies, and had made pilgrimages and vows to different saints. The poor mother, hearing of the wonders wrought by St. Alonso, took the child in her arms and hoped that for her husband’s sake the Brother would take pity on her little boy. Our Saint endeavoured to comfort her with kind words, and so send her away, but she only insisted the more. He asked if she had no other children, and when she told him the boy was her only child, and urged how hard it was to part with him, St. Alonso said: “Well, my sister, it will not die; it will soon be quite well;” and with that he made the sign of the cross over it. At once the fever left it, and it looked so well that the mother could not keep her joy to herself, but told all she met on her way home that her child had been cured.

A poor woman was dying in childbed, and her life was so utterly despaired of that everything was in readiness to save and to baptize the child after her death. St. Alonso, who had gone as companion with a Father of the college, on his return home, was deeply concerned for both mother and the unborn babe. “Lord,” he cried, in an agony of prayer, “I offer Thee, in this sad need, all the merits of my whole life, for the mother and her children, if only Thou wilt have compassion on her in this her need.” That instant she recovered. Four days after, in passing with the same Father down the street where she lived, Alonso had the pleasure of finding her standing at her door.

Going another time with a Father who wanted to hear a sick man’s confession, the patient was found to be raving. The Father, finding it impossible in his frenzy even to get near him, withdrew for a space, and betook himself to prayer with our Saint, asking for help from God. As they prayed, the sick man became as meek as a lamb, and begged to make his confession.

Another act of charity far greater than these was when, on one occasion, St. Alonso knew of someone who was in great trouble on account of temptation. So anxious was our Saint to console him, that he begged God to free his friend and to transfer the trial to himself. The answer came that his prayer would not be granted in the way that he had asked, but that he should have another trial to bear instead. And God, in fact, sent him a terrible bodily pain. It came and went, but returned again. It grew, however, less each time and at last disappeared.

The charity of our Saint towards his neighbour was only to be measured by his love for God. We read in his “Resolutions,”25 what care our Saint took to be open-eyed to the good qualities of all around, and blind to their faults, while he steadily refused to see any good in himself; and he heartily despised himself for his own faults, which, though invisible to others, his humility magnified and revealed to his mind. Thus everyone became for him a master in some particular virtue, and all, by contrast, helped him to deepen his sense of humility. He used, in his own mind, to call each one by the name of the particular excellence which his charity discovered in them. “Here comes the humble man! Here comes the one whose heart is wounded by love of God! Here comes the Brother whose thoughts are ever with God! Here is he who gives no one any trouble, and bears his brothers’ faults without a word! Here is the servant and subject of all, and who never likes to be waited on.” “Think well of all,” he writes, “but ill of yourself; keep before you his good qualities, and put aside his bad ones. If you notice any, make excuses for them. But reject any good in yourself, for you do not know if it be pleasing to God. And accuse yourself of your faults, not going into discouragement, but into contempt of self. Keep yourself always shut up in the cell of your self-knowledge, and so you will see in others subjects of praise, in yourself motives of sorrow. Think everybody good, and better than yourself. Love and esteem all, and be pleasant and cheerful with all; but thoroughly contemn yourself.”

St. Alonso took the greatest pains to do every action of the day with all possible care, and to make it give back all possible glory to God. The humbler and the harder the work, the more fruitful it was under his hands. He had to take his turn to lay the refectory, to help his friend Brother Ruiz in the kitchen, and of these, as of all the other duties of a lay brother, he has left us the secret of his perfect work. “Whenever you do anything, you must offer it to God at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end. At the beginning, undertake it only to please Our Lord, out of holy obedience. While in the midst of it, you must unite it to the life, labours, death and merits, of Jesus Christ. When finished, offer it to God for your soul’s salvation, and for your own special needs, and beg Him to accept it for this end. When you wait at table, you must put yourself first of all in the presence of God, for Whose love you are going to do that duty, in order to please Him in the person of those whom you are serving, and because holy obedience commands it. While you are waiting on the community, be very careful to lift your heart to God, and say often, ‘Lord, I unite this action with the life, passion, the labours and death of Jesus Christ, Thy only Son.’ When you have finished, say with new fervour, ‘I offer Thee, my God, this work purely for Thy glory, for my soul’s salvation, to relieve the souls in Purgatory, and for the conversion of sinners and heretics.’ You must take great pains to please God, and to give Him satisfaction in everything, never desiring anything which is not allowed, no matter how trivial it may be. When you have anything to say, when you wish to look at anything, or to eat anything at table, whatever in fact you do, you must, in your heart, ask God’s leave beforehand, and if your conscience has nothing against it, you can then do what you judge conformable to His will; but never act in any other way. You must have no other thought in what you do, but to please God by a very pure intention, for He Himself has no other end in everything but His glory. In conclusion, you must live as if you saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing, and as if you were already dead to all your senses, and sought in everything the honour and glory of God, and the fulfilment of His will, and nothing else.”

Thus the smallest action was turned, by him, into gold coin that is current in heaven. To be faithful to such a rule is to be a saint.

Thus every hour was full of glory to God. Never was a moment lost. People noticed that the instant any public duty, as, for example, recreation, was over, Alonso began at once to recite his prayers. He always used these spare times to intercede for some soul who he knew was in need. After a day of such constant work, there was not much repose for the worn-out frame of this great penitent. Much of the night he gave to prayer.

Notes

  1. Nonell, p. 158.

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  2. The Bollandists remark that there were in St. Alonso’s time various Litanies of Our Lady, but that Rodriguez said the Litany of Loreto, which is now the one commonly employed in the Church. P. 613.

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  3. Memor., n. 60.

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  4. Obras Espir., Tom. I., p. 481. It would seem that this long list of devotions, which he noted down in 1607, refer in their entirety to that period of his life, when, owing to his age, he was more or less freed from active work. But many of these pious practises, no doubt, had been used by him through all his religious life.

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  5. Memor., n. 9.

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  6. The account was written in 1604, and it happened therefore about 1592.

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  7. In his Manifestation of 1608, v. Memor., n. 92.

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  8. Memor., n. 92. In his “Spiritual Practices, &c.,” St. Alonso has left us a detailed description of his methods of approaching Holy Communion. V. Obras Espir., t. I., pp. 406-423.

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  9. This was probably before the cloister all round the large court was completed, and when, in consequence, part of the way was not under cover.

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  10. Memor., n. 146. 1610.

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  11. Marimon, l. II., § 34.

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  12. Memor., n. 199. 1613. The saint says it was “tantos años”—very many years—since he took this resolution.

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  13. Memor., n. 139. June, 1609.

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  14. Marimon, l. II., § 36, p. 158a, seq.; cf. Colin, c. VIII. Father Bonavenia says positively, p. 89, that the cook was Brother Ruiz.

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  15. II. Kings, iv., 39 seq.

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  16. The Saint himself says, “he does not think anything could be more bitter, and that the very cats would not eat it.” Memor., n. 130, June, 1609. The mishap took place somewhere between 1601, the date of Father Marimon’s return as a priest to Majorca, and 1609, when the Saint wrote the account.

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  17. “Death is in the pot,” or, to give more exactly the Spanish rendering, “There is poison in this olla podrida.”

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  18. Marimon, loc. cit.

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  19. The technical Spanish term for the hour of recreation in religious houses.

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  20. Elench. Summ., p. 150.

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  21. The statue of our Lady now over the High Altar was not erected until 1611 (V. Hist. MS. Montesion); possibly the Virgen in the interesting and early retablo of the old chapel of Montesion is here referred to, as it is very likely that it surmounted the altar of the church in its earlier days.

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  22. Ripoll returned to Montesion in 1615, whence he had gone to Spain in 1610 on being received into the Society.

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  23. Brother Roca knew St. Alonso from 1590, though he only entered the Society five years after that date.

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  24. The Vivots were people of great importance in Majorca. Don John Anthony won distinction in the wars in Flanders. Don Peter, a Knight of the Military Order of Montesion, and who died in 1607, was the last of his name. V. Bover, Nobiliario Mallorquino.

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  25. Obras Espir., t. I., p. 448.

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