Item 259 - Br Patrick Muldoon SJ

Born: 15 May 1846, Banagher, County Offaly
Entered: 29 October 1884, Richmond, Australia (HIB)
Final Vows: 15 August 1898, St Ignatius, Richmond, Melbourne, Australia
Died: 01 July 1925, Loyola College, Greenwich, Sydney, Australia

◆ HIB Menologies SJ :
He emigrated to Australia and worked as a labourer for a while before Ent at the new Irish Novitiate in Richmond, and it was then moved to Xavier College, Kew. He went there with Joseph Brennan and John Newman, Scholastic Novices, and Brother Novices Bernard Doyle and Patrick Kelly.
After First Vows he remained at Xavier College for 32 years until 1918. He had a strong physique and was suited to all kinds of jobs in that place, both the Community and College, and all the students who were there at that time remember with affection and esteem.
1918 Now 72 years old and his health failing he was transferred to the Novitiate at Loyola, Greenwich, Sydney, and he lived there edifying everyone with his piety, his love of the Society and his kindly disposition, until his death there 01 July 1925. He was 79 at death and almost 41 years in the Society in Australia.

He was an excellent religious, zealous and hardworking, and also notable for always seeking to do good in his conversation with all he came in contact with.

◆ David Strong SJ “The Australian Dictionary of Jesuit Biography 1848-2015”, 2nd Edition, Halstead Press, Ultimo NSW, Australia, 2017 - ISBN : 9781925043280
From all human appearances, Patrick Muldoon seemed to have a very dull life in the Society that he entered at Vaucluse, Richmond, 29 October 1884. He spent his life as a brother performing general duties mainly at Xavier College, 1886-96 and 1897-1918. His main duty at Xavier was to make the beds and look after the linen of the students. He retired to Loyola College, Greenwich, 1919-25.
He was a man with a lively wit, and knew the Xavier College boys by their laundry numbers. He died suddenly, collapsing on his day out at the tram stop just near the Gore Hill cemetery.

◆ The Xaverian, Xavier College, Melbourne, Australia, 1915

Brother Patrick Muldoon SJ

Thirty-two years of day-in-day-out toil tells on the toughest of frames, and so it did in the case of the School's old friend, “Brother Muldoon”, who left us last September for the more restful life of “Loyola”, in Sydney.

Coming to the School in 1886, he took charge of the Boys' Dormitory, and, in this trust, he faithfully laboured until superiors said the day of labour should cease, and that of rest - if possible for one of his nature - supervene. Little wonder is it that, thus occupied, he should come to be extraordinarily familiar with the names and dormitory numbers of the boys that passed through the School. Meet him anywhere, tell him your name, and, like a flash, he rould give you back your number. In addition to this, he was a living calendar for the boys going through the School, meeting thcm first with the characteristic finger to the lip for silence, and thien asking them now “How long till you go?” now - “How long till you come back?” (He was always longing for them to come back, for he held the House was never a House till the boys were in it. - Ed). He was also a living provider for the present boys, since the number of apples that he was sown under pillows would fill orchards. Thus, “toiling, rejoicing, not sorrowing, but telling the “beads”, onward through life ine went, till health said “Warrior, rest”. The gratitude and good wishes of both the Old Boys and the Now go to him.

◆ The Xaverian, Xavier College, Melbourne, Australia, 1925

Obituary

Brother Patrick Muldoon SJ

(Born May 15th, 1846; died July 1st, 1925)

Boys of the closing eighties and thic early nineties will learn with regret that kindly old Brother Muldoon is no longer a dweller on earth. His health began to fail in 1918 and in consequence he left Xavier for the whore restful life of. the noviceship at “Loyola”, Sydney. He was not long here, however, when he had a stroke. From this he slowly recovered but suffered another one on July Ist, 1925 on which day the kindly old soul peacefully passed to liis great reward, “Brother Mul”, was really the first person to make an impression on the new boy. The newcomer, of course, met the Rector and the Matron at his coming, but he was too excited at starting the new life; too sorrowful at breaking with the old, to pay any attention to them. However, when, having had a good sleep and taken a good breakfast, he went to his place in the dormitory, he there met a tall, grey-bearded man with a kindly look on his face, who stopped spreading the sheets (he had charge of the dormitories) and said, “What's your number?” Here was somebody who hailed him not as an individual Tom or Dick but as an officially recognised member of the School - “What's your number?” The answer was readily given and as readily committed to memory with a completeness that withstood all ousting. Rectors and boys might come and Rectors and boys inight go, but “Brother Mul” always held on to your number, Years after, when boys of the School would return as grown men and fathers of a family themselves, they would meet him and say to him - “Do you remember me, Brother?” The old man would stop, look at them and say - “Yes, you're number so and so”. As you grew in the School and passed him by in the dormitory, he would first characteristically put his finger to his lips for St Alphonsus silence and, that done, ask you, now - “How long till you go?” - now “How long till you come back?” (Although he put the “going” first, know ing as he did the holiday count that was always going on, yet it was the come back that he really cared about, since he, used to hold that the House wasn't a House unless the boys were in it). But these two questions put and answered he lapsed into silence and continued his work. Not that he did not love a chat. Get him when he was taking his “cup of tay” (and tea it was. “not hot water with a spoon in it”, as he used to say), and he'd give you the history of the Colonies from the time he came out in a sailing ship in 1846, to the time when Archbishop Gould laid the foundation stone, and Father Sturzo came with the Novices, and Father Tom Brown built the Big Hall, and Father John Ryan put in the telephone, and Father Keating started the Boy Prefects and Father James O'Dwyer put in the electric light that turned the night into day all over the place. “As I was saying”, was a wonderful link phrase of his and when you leard that you knew there was much more to follow.and all interesting too. But these were talks for the Community over his “cup of tay” (with a capital T to mark its strength). To the boys (except to old stagers like John Paul McCartin - God rest his soul - who, being “a man with a beard” used to get leave to go up to the dormitory for a shave) he got very little beyond - “When are you going?”- “When are you coming back”. However, there were two days in the year when he broke this silence and that both by word and deed. These were the two “big” days - the feast days of Saint Aloysiuis and of Saint Francis Xavier - days in which, in his time there was no study or class but a Missa Cantata, followed by a Special Sermon (usually preached by someone from outside) and later on by a special dinner. On these days he used to appear in the boys' refectory and help with the serving. All through the morning, as he made the beds he would quizz the boys passing by with the chicken they were to have (the “like of which you couldn't get anywhere else”), the ginger pop (“specially prepared to make a row”) the ice-cream (”fit to inake your mouth water”) and fruit and sweets galore of which he hoped and prayed they wouldn't eat too much and make theinselves sick. That last was his preaching, but his practice in their regard was far different. After he had finished assisting he was wont to gather all the apples he could find anywhere and everywhere (these two days he regarded as privileged for pillaging any store) and, when thc night had fallen, he would take his precious burden upstairs and deposit it (or rather them, for they were rosey apples) under the pillows of the boys' beds. (NB - This pillaging for a good purpose used to occur on other days, but not so wholesale as on the two feast days). Then, his duty done, he would go downstairs light of pocket and lighter of heart, and betake himself to the Chapel there to “say the bades” for hours. Thus it was at Xavier and it was the same, mutatis mutandis, at “Loyola” a quiet filling in of the simple annals of one poor in this world's goods, but very rich in the treasures of the next. Thus “toiling, rejoicing, not sorrowing”, onward tlırough life he went till the Master said “Well done good and faithful servant. Come home and rest” And home he went fortified with all the Sacraments of the Church and dying with the peace and simplicity of a child. Home to heaven, yes, but we think not to rest, for as on carth the kind old soui knelt in the presence of the King and told the beads for the boys alive, so too is he kneeling in the presence of that same King telling Mary's beads that the boys lying or dead may one and all come home to the long, long lioliday in heaven. May his soul rest in peace,

◆ Our Alma Mater, St Ignatius Riverview, Sydney, Australia, Golden Jubilee 1880-1930

Riverview in the ‘Eighties - A McDonnell (OR 1866-1888)

No review of the old times at Riverview would be complete without the mention of the Lay Brothers. Brother Muldoon was the chief of these, he being the right hand of the Minister of the House. He was general house steward. He had charge of the providoring department, and he discharged the duties of that onerous position to perfection. He was a most genial and kindly man, and was particularly generous to those making efforts to uphold, and defend, the honour of the College in the line of sports. When the crew were in training he provided special fare, at special times, and thought no amount of extra work in this direction a trouble. He insisted upon providing us with a substantial basin of milk gruel after the Sergeant had put us through our dumb-bell drill in the hour between 9 p.m, and 10 p.m, I have cause to remember Brother Muldoon's kindness and consideration, on one occasion in particular. The Balmain Annual Regatta was a great aquatic event in those days, and it was held . on the 9th November, the birthday of the then Prince of Wales. Our crew was competing in the four-oar race, amongst the seniors of the various clubs. I was “fifth-man” at the time, and, with the other “emergency man”, attended the Regatta, with Fr. Gartlan Coxswain. The weather was threatening when we set out, and it promptly fulfilled those threats. One of the mail boats was anchored off Cockatoo Island as flagship, and we sheltered behind her lee side as much as we could. The rain fell in sheets, lashed by a first class southerly gale; judging from the temperature, it had : come direct from the Pole. We had to wait a long time for the event in which we were interested, and it was hoped that the gale would abate. At last the four-oar race was started; but our number three broke his oar at the third stroke. However, it made little difference, as all the other boats were swamped. They were "string test gigs," which were entirely unseaworthy in such weather. There was a race for ten foot dinghies, and in this forty two of those cockleshells started. They, of course, made a wide field, and in passing the flagship, on the outward reach, two or three ran inside where we were sheltering. They, of course, displayed bad seaman ship in running so close to the flagship, as, in doing so they were bound to lose the wind. These boats were manned by wild boys, and the torrent of language they directed at us, and especially at Fr. Gartlan, was enough to burn the surface of the harbour. Fr, Gartlan took it in quite a philosophic spirit, and serenely remarked: “Those are very rude boys”. Of the forty-two boats which passed us only two rounded the buoy on the return reach. Among the capsized were our linguistic friends, and Fr Gartlan remarked: “Now those boys will have an opportunity of washing away their sins”.. We were all wet through, and were so for several hours, and when we reached our boat shed, we were so stiff that we could hardly get out of the boat without assistance. When we arrived at the house, Brother Muldoon had a special hot meal, and an immense jug of hot, spiced wine ready for us. None of us suffered the slightest ill effects from that exposure. Brother Muldoon was assisted by a head waiter, Jim Flood, and when he put on his dress suit to manage matters on festive occasions, he always looked the most distinguished member of the gathering.