CHAPTER XVI.

His "Little Missions."

On the 21st of June, 1858, Father Ignatius began to give short retreats, which he designated "little missions." This was his work the remaining six years of his life; anything else we find him doing was like an exception.

The work proposed in these missions was what has been already described in the chapter on the sanctification of the Irish people. He wanted to abolish all their vices, which he reduced to three capital sins, and sow the seeds of perfect virtue upon the ground of their deep and fertile faith. Since he took up the notion that Ireland was called to keep among the nations the title of _Island of Saints_, which had once been hers, he could never rest until he saw it effected. He seems to have been considering for a number of years the means by which this should be brought about, and he hit upon a happy thought in 1858.

This thought was the way of impregnating the minds of all the Irish people with his ideas. He found that missions were most powerful means of moving people in a body to reconciliation with God, and an amendment of life. He perceived that the words of the missionaries were treasured up, and that the advices they gave were followed with a scrupulous exactness. Missions were the moving power, but how were they to enter into all the corners of a kingdom? Missions could only be given in large parishes, and all priests did not set so high a value upon their importance as those who asked for them. If he could concentrate the missionary power into something less solemn, but of like efficacy, and succeed in carrying that out, he thought it would be just {465} the thing. This train of deliberation resulted in the "little missions."

A "little mission" is a new mode of renewing fervour; Father Ignatius was the originator and only worker in it of whom we have any record. It was half a week of missionary work in every parish--that is, three days and a half of preaching and hearing confessions. Two sermons in the day were as much as ever Father Ignatius gave, and the hours in the confessional were as many as he could endure.

This kind of work had its difficulties. The whole course of subjects proper to a mission could not be got through, neither could all the penitents be heard. Father Ignatius met these objections. "The eternal truths," as such, he did not introduce. He confined himself to seven lectures, in which the crying evils, with their antidotes, were introduced. As far as the confessions were concerned, he followed the rule of moral theologians that a confessor is responsible only for the penitent kneeling before him, and not for those whose confession he has not begun. He heard all he could.

His routine of daily work on these little missions was to get up at five, and hear confessions all day until midnight, except whilst saying mass and office, giving his lecture and taking his meals. He took no recreation whatever, and if he chatted any time after dinner with the priest, the conversation might be considered a continuation of his sermon. At a very moderate calculation he must have spent at least twelve hours a day in the confessional. Some of these apostolic visits he prolonged to a week when circumstances required. He gave 245 of these missions from June, 1858, to September, 1864; he was on his way to the 246th when he died. A rough calculation will show us that he must have spent about twenty-two weeks every year in this employment. Let us just think of forty journeys, in cold and heat, from parish to parish, sometimes on foot, sometimes on conveyances, which chance put in his way. Let us follow him when he has strapped his bags upon his shoulder, after his mass, walking off nine or ten miles, in {466} order to be in time to begin in another parish that evening. Let us see the poor man trying to prevent his feeling pain from his sore feet by walking a little faster, struggling, with umbrella broken, against rain and wind, dust, a bad road, and a way unknown to add to his difficulties. He arrives, he lays down his burden, puts on his habit, takes some dinner, finishes his office, preaches his first discourse, and sits in the confessional until half-past eleven o'clock. Let us try to realize what this work must have been, and we shall have an idea of the six last years of Father Ignatius Spencer's life.

We give a few extracts from his letters, as they will convey an idea of how he felt and wrought in this great work.

On the 10th of August, 1858, he writes from the convent in Kells, where he was helping the nuns through their retreat:--

"I have an hour and a half before my next sermon at 7; all the nuns' confessions are finished, and all my office said; I have therefore time for a letter. I have not had such an afternoon as this for many months. The people of this town seem to think the convent an impregnable fortress, and do not make an assault upon me in it. If I was just to show myself in the church I should be quickly surrounded. The reflections which come upon me this quiet afternoon are not so bright and joyous as you might expect, perhaps, from the tone of my letter to M ----, but rather of a heavy afflicting character; but all the better, all the better. This is wholesome, and another stage in my thoughts brings me to very great satisfaction out of this heaviness. I do not know whether I shall explain myself to you. I see myself here so alone, though the people come upon me so eagerly, so warmly, and, I may say, so lovingly; yet I have not one on whom I can think as sympathising with me. I see the necessity of a complete radical change in the spirit of the people, the necessity, I mean, in order to have some prospect of giving the cause of truth its victory in England, and making this Irish people permanently virtuous and happy. This is what I am preaching from place to place, and aiming at instilling into the people's minds in the confessional, at {467} dinner-tables, in cars on the road, as well as in preaching; and, while I aim at it, the work is bright enough."

Oct. 11, 1860, he writes:

"I can hardly understand how I can go on for any long time more as I am doing, and not find some capable and willing to enter into them. Here I am through the 112th parish, with the same proposals which no one objects to, but no one enters into nor seems to understand."

May 6, 1861.--

"It seems my lot to be moving about as long as I can move. I am very happy in the work I am about when I am at it, but I have always to go through regret and sorrow before moving, particularly when leaving my home. ... I have now gone through 132 parishes. No movement yet, such as I am aiming at. It always goes on in the form of most interesting missionary work, and is a most agreeable way of doing my begging work. I have been through 123 of these parishes without asking a penny from any one, but they bring me on an average more than £21 a parish in _Ireland_. I have worked through eleven parishes in the diocese of Salford (England) out of that number, and these do not yield half the fruit of the Irish missions in point of money, but are otherwise very satisfactory.''

In a letter written in December of the same year:

"I am preparing for another year's work like the last, going from parish to parish through Ireland, collecting for our Order, and at the same time stirring the people to devote themselves to their sanctification. They give their money very generously, they listen kindly to my sermons, and I never have a minute idle in hearing confessions; but hitherto there is no attention such as I wish paid to my proposals. I have made these little missions now in 160 parishes in Ireland, and to eleven Irish congregations in England. I am, thank God, in as good plight as ever I was in my life for this kind of work, and this seems to give a hope that I may at length see the effect of it as I wish, or the fruit may spring up when I am dead and buried. If death comes upon me in this way, I will at least rejoice for myself that I am dying more like our Lord than if I finished my course {468} crowned with the most brilliant successes; for when He died people would say He had utterly failed, but He was just then achieving His victory. Whatever way things take we cannot be disappointed if we keep faithful to God."

The lovingness described as subsisting between himself and his dear Irish people gave rise to many incidents, amongst which the following is rather peculiar. At one place, where he had just concluded a little mission, the people gathered round him when he was about to go away. He heard many say, "What will we do when he is gone?" and several other exclamations betokening their affliction at having to part from him. He turned round and asked all he saw to accompany him to the railway station. When they arrived there he addressed them again in something like these words: "Now, stand here until you see the train start, and when it is out of sight, I want you all to say, '_Thank God, he is gone_.'"

He met a great many refusals and cold receptions on these missionary tours, but in general he was very well received. The exceptions were dear to him, as they were profitable to himself, and he seldom spoke of them unless there was some special lesson they were calculated to convey.

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