Compiled and arranged by Máire Nic Ghiolla Phádraig
The following continues the story of the Australian foundation of the Discalced Carmelite friars as told by its principal architect.
Melbourne — Awe, Humour and High Expectations
Our next port of call was Melbourne. We arrived around eight o’clock in the morning. It was dry and bitterly cold. It was also the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. We arrived at the Carmel to find Archbishop Mannix there, and Bishop Wade from New Guinea. We had breakfast with Dr Mannix. At that time I had a certain awe of bishops which had a rather paralysing effect on me. I was to get more used to them before long. In the presence of the great Dr Mannix I found myself quite ill at ease, and there were a few dreadful moments when I was all alone with him in the convent parlour. He wasn’t saying anything and I was anxiously searching my mind for something to say. Then I made the faux pas of the century. It must have been specially arranged by Providence to mortify the Archbishop on his most sensitive spot. I said to him, ‘Are you an Irishman?’ We were going out of the door at the time and he made no reply, but I heard afterwards that when he was walking home with his secretary, he was silent and depressed. Eventually he said to his secretary, ‘Do you know what that man said to me? He asked me was I an Irishman!’ However, when I met Mannix on later occasions he was very nice to me and made no reference to this.
Our reception at the Carmel was enthusiastic and high‑powered. There had been some talk before we left home about a possible foundation at Melbourne and the nuns were very keen on the idea. There was a dynamic prioress, Mother Teresa, and the whole community tingled with dynamism. We spent three days in Melbourne.
We contacted a Mr and Mrs Kiernan, of Toorak, parents of a girl I knew in London, and they took us for a drive out into the mountains to hear the bellbird, which we didn’t hear, but we had an enjoyable day.
Sydney — Beauty and Responsibility
We spent three days in Melbourne and then went on to Sydney. We passed under the Harbour Bridge at about eight o’clock in the morning, as we were finishing our Masses. The weather was not so cold, but we were disappointed to discover that we would have to spend five days here, as we were anxious to get to the end of our journey. As they could only put up one of us at the cottage attached to the Carmel, I stayed there while the other three stayed on the boat. We paid a visit to Cardinal Gilroy at the Cathedral and he invited us to have lunch with him at his residence in Manly. As we were driven over there I was fascinated by the beauty of Sydney Harbour with its many inlets containing little motor and sailing boats, and the beautiful wooded, hilly shores with their lovely houses. On this occasion the Cardinal asked me to make a visitation of the Carmelite Convent in his name, which I did before the following Christmas. It took me a full fortnight as there was considerable reorganisation of community life to be done, in which I had the full co‑operation of the Prioress, Mother Beatrix.
Brisbane — The Archbishop’s World
Our stay in Sydney being over, we went on to Brisbane. At one o’clock in the afternoon, on the 28th of July, we were sailing up the Brisbane River. It was a sunny day, no more than a slight chill in the air although this was mid‑winter. Archbishop Duhig himself was there on the quayside to meet us with a couple of his priests. The Archbishop took me off with him before all the luggage was ready, while the others waited. Thus we were separated, and it would be a long time before we were all to live together again. Fr Jarlath was with Monsignor English at Clayfield parish; Fr Cormac with the Augustinians at Villanova College (they had just recently arrived in Brisbane). Br Kieran stayed with Fr Bree. I spent two weeks at Archbishop’s House, Wynberg, New Farm.
On the way from the boat the Archbishop said to me (he was universally known as ‘the Arch’), in his deep, slow and sonorous voice, ‘I don’t want you men to have a parish. I want you to be a select community where educated men can come for advice.’ That was exactly what I wanted, too, but I was yet to learn that what the Archbishop desired as an ideal and what he was prepared to give us as a practical solution were very different.
That very evening the Archbishop took me to a Debutante Ball at the Franciscan parish (Kedron?), in which he received the debutantes and made a short speech. I was impressed by the seriousness and solemnity of the ritual and thought it very old‑world. The next evening he took me to another Ball for the united Catholic schools of Brisbane, at Cloudland Ballroom, which was a large place perched on top of a steep hill. He impressed on me what a busy bishop he was, and how he had to go to all these parochial events.
A meeting of the diocesan council was about to take place and I was asked to state in writing what kind of foundation I wanted. I said I wanted a central city church, without the care of parish, school or hospital. After the meeting the Archbishop spoke of taking me to visit Monsignor Baldwin, who lived at Ipswich, about twenty‑five miles south of Brisbane, to consult him about letting us purchase Toorak House, which was on the top of a hill overlooking the Brisbane River. As soon as we arrived he had a private chat with the Mons (as these people were always called), and then we had lunch. I heard no more about Toorak House. All the Archbishop said to me was, ‘Providence will provide.’
During these two weeks he seemed to take me everywhere he went, and kept showing me the sights of Brisbane, especially the many churches he had built, especially on the tops of hills. He had a gift of being able to discern where development would take place, and would buy up bushland in a place where years later a church would be needed. I had been instructed by the priests at Wynberg to express suitable admiration for the churches he had built, which was not easy to keep on doing in a convincing way as there were so many of them. The sightseeing at night, too, was impressive. It is said that Brisbane, like Rome, is built on seven hills, and I seemed to be continually looking down upon a sea of lights as we drove round the city at night.
The Archbishop’s World — Ritual, Humour and Expectations
The Queensland Exhibition took place during my stay at Wynberg and the Archbishop brought me to visit it. Having made a quick tour of the various stalls showing Queensland produce, he said to me, ‘Now, you cannot say you have been to the Exhibition unless you visit the sideshows.’ So down we went along a thickly crowded pathway with all kinds of fun and games on either side. Having walked the full length we turned back and he stopped before a tent where a girl wearing something like a swimsuit was selling tickets. In we went and found the seats in semi‑circular form around a small arena. It was crowded, and the only place we could sit was on a small bench about six inches high, right in front. I was impressed to see the Archbishop lower his corpulent frame onto this with considerable agility. There we sat watching men perform acrobatic feats, attended by girls in scanty attire. No one took any notice of us and in due course we departed. When I related this incident at Wynberg the priests laughed and said the Archbishop had done it specially to pull my leg.
On Sunday I said Mass at the Cathedral and preached. The Archbishop said to someone, ‘You see, these men are not preachers.’ (He had expected us to be good preachers.) A young curate at Wynberg said to me, ‘But you didn’t preach, you only talked.’ These remarks didn’t register much with me; I had too much else to occupy my mind.
Then I heard that Mons English, in whose parish Fr Jarlath was staying, would have to go to hospital for a couple of months and that we would have his parish in the meantime. The Archbishop said to me, ‘Of course I am very sorry that Monsignor English is ill, but at the same time it is providential.’
Clayfield — Community Life and Scattered Ministry
Our stay at Clayfield was pleasant. It was a well‑to‑do locality, there was a good church and presbytery, with a convent boarding and day school attached. And we had a housekeeper who looked after us well. We began regular Carmelite life, rising at 4.45 a.m., making our hour’s mental prayer morning and evening, and saying the Office publicly in church at the normal times. Going into church at 5 a.m. we would hear the birds as I had never heard them before. They have horrible voices. Such a lot of squeaking and squawking, with an occasional outburst of raucous laughter from the kookaburra (laughing jackass). But to look at them they are beautiful; the most beautiful plumage I had ever seen.
Unfortunately, we were not all together. Fr Cormac left the Augustinians and became resident chaplain at the Marist Brothers’ college, Ashgrove, but Fr Jarlath relieved him there from time to time. About the time when Monsignor English returned, Fr Jarlath was made resident chaplain at another Marist Brothers’ college, Eagle Heights, a desolate place up in mountain bushland about sixty miles from Brisbane. At the same time I took flight for a visit to the various Carmels, as they had been calling out for further contact with our friars.
Across Australia — Carmels, Bishops and a Lonely Christmas
It was Mother Veronica, the prioress of Brisbane Carmel, who started the process by which we eventually came to Brisbane. She naturally expected to see us immediately on arrival. Imagine her feelings when she heard that I had said my first Mass in Brisbane à Duchesne, a small hotel near Wynberg run by Sacred Heart nuns. I had no choice in the matter as I was completely at the disposal of the Archbishop. After a few days the Archbishop said to me, ‘Now Mother Prioress at the Carmel will be anxious to see you. She thinks you have come for them but I had to explain to her that you have come for the diocese also.’ And so, he took me along to the Carmel. I soon became ordinary confessor there and gave them a weekly talk as well as having a discussion with the novices on some part of St Teresa’s writings.
I think it was sometime in November when I set off to visit the other Carmels. My first flight in a plane was this one from Brisbane to Sydney in a DC‑3, by T.A.A., ‘the friendly way’. I enjoyed flying in Australia more than anywhere else. It was homelier, friendlier and not so highly developed. Coming near Sydney the hostess pointed out the various sights to me, including Bondi Beach and Manly College. Having done the Visitation at the Carmel and reported to the Cardinal, I went on to Melbourne, where I again received a high‑powered welcome from our nuns. We had recreations in the parlour and they entertained me in many ways, including a little play about the prophet Elias. I think I also gave them a three‑day retreat, but I am not sure if it was at this time or on my way back from Western Australia after Christmas. I went on to visit the Carmels in Tasmania and Adelaide and then over to Perth, meeting also the bishops in each place. It was in Adelaide I received a letter from a novice in Melbourne, inviting me to visit them on my way to see a little play they were producing.
I was at Perth Carmel for Christmas Day. It was a lonely Christmas. I had lunch with the Jesuits and that was rather dull also. It was while here that I wrote one of my long letters to my Provincial, Fr Pius, this time explaining to him the reasons why we should not take a parish. It was after he had received one of these letters in Kensington that he went into the Prior’s room (Fr Edward) and said, ‘Look at this letter I got from Matthew; doesn’t he realise that I know all that.’ But I wasn’t so sure that he did. Before we left he had said to me, ‘If they give you a parish, take it.’ However, he was very kind and encouraging in his letters to me and answered mine promptly. The only warnings he gave me were not to be travelling around too much and that I was local superior at Brisbane. It was easy to get into my head the idea that I was something more, when I found myself being referred to as ‘the Head of the Carmelite Order in Australia.’ In fact, I made a tour of the Carmels once a year, usually around November, and made quite a few Visitations at the request of the bishops.
