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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