BY AN IRISH RECTOR.
NO.
II.—MISSION-WORK AMONG THE
ISLANDS.
It was on the 2d of January 1849 that I
set out on the missionary preaching tour, of which I shall
give a brief account, through three counties of the south of
Ireland. I had all my arrangements made through the
committee of the Irish Society before I set out, and I
continued my work for sis weeks. It was my desire to secure
the full, open, and public attention of the Roman Catholics,
and affectionately to solicit their attendance, and I
accordingly sent to every place before me printed placards
and notices. My proceedings, consequently, attracted
considerable attention from the Romish priests, and I was,
of course, denounced from the altars far in advance of my
progress. My first meeting was with sixty Romanists in one
of the principal cities of the south, all with open Bibles.
I hope on a future occasion to give some account of the
character of these meetings, and the examinations and
observations made at them, as they are an essential feature
of the work. The following day I met one hundred and fifty
of these men in another town twenty miles distant, in the
open day, and for three hours we read, examined, and
discussed the Holy Scriptures together, the whole of these
teachers having been once, and most of them at the time
still, Romanists. They were all invited, as were the public,
to hear me preach in the very large parish church on the
following evening, to prove that "Romanism was not the old
religion." I was denounced by name at the three several
masses on the previous Sunday, and the Romanists warned
against attending, as they had been invited to do. It was
all in vain; there never were so many people on any former
occasion as flocked then to the church. Several gentlemen,
among them the members of a noble family resident in the
neighbourhood, did the office of sexton. The pews were
crowded in double tiers, the people were packed in every
part of the aisles where a human being could stand. The
Romanists listened with reverence to the singing and the
worship generally, and were heard to express their
approbation of the Liturgy. The sermon was long, and was
listened to with breathless attention. I knew the usual
device of the priests was likely to be resorted to. I
exposed the folly and fraud of sending men twenty miles to
the Romish bishop for a ticket, on the usual pretence
that such sins as hearing the Word of God may not have
absolution from the priest in the confessional without the
written permission of the bishop, while theft, drunkenness,
and every other sin. which was only a breach of God's ten, and not of the
Church's six additional commandments, found absolution
without difficulty. I represented the spiritual condition of
the poor, wearied Romanist, returning after his walk of
forty miles with the pretended pardon rolled up in his
pocket, which could only be obtained, in reality, from
the Father of Mercy. It had the desired effect, and, to my
great surprise, no one was sent for a ticket in this
instance; the feeling of the people, to which the priests
have always to yield when it is unmistakable, was too
strong—so strong, indeed, that it several times during the
sermon had audible expression, after the manner of our
simple people in country parts. 1 had to return a second,
and again a third, time to meet the awakened interest in the
place. After meeting, in several towns and villages, large
numbers of teachers and pupils of the Irish Society, I
arrived at a small town on the western coast, and was
received by an old and tried friend, the Rev.
E------S-------. He-has been named, and with great
propriety, the Felix Neff of the south; and if twenty-five
years of the most devoted, laborious, and self-sacrificing
missionary service, to which I know nothing similar, is a
good title to the name, he richly deserves it.
Mr S------announced by placard before my arrival
that I was to preach on "The Pope's retreat from Rome." Many
of the simple people of the place had not heard of the
event, and the announcement caused considerable sensation.
As large a number of Protestants
and Romanist? as could find admission assembled in the
parish church, The service had only commenced, when the Rev,
Arthur O'Leary, a Roman Catholic priest, stood up in one of
the pews, and addressed me as, " Mr Preacher," and put a
question which, owing to the agitated state he appeared to
be in, was quite unintelligible. I replied, lifting up my
hand, and in a quiet tone,—"Sit down, air, don't interrupt
our worship." He begged pardon, and resumed his seat till
the conclusion of the service; when Mr S------, addressing
the congregation from the desk, said that no interruption
should be allowed during my sermon, but that when the sermon
was over, Mr O'Leary might, if he desired, reply as long as
he pleased; and that if there was not sufficient time fully
to discuss the matter, we should be ready to adjourn for
another evening. He said he was not annoyed but gratified
that Mr O'Leary had come forward and set a good example to
the Roman Catholics of the parish. I no sooner ascended the
pulpit, however, than Mr O'Leary advanced to the centre of
the aisle, in a state of great excitement, and addressed me.
He was understood to say, that, having seen the placard, he
begged to ask whether it was to be a spiritual or a
political lecture. I told him the subject had an important
spiritual bearing, and that the fact had, of course, great
political importance also, but I must decline answering any
more questions till I had concluded my sermon, when he might fully avail himself of Mr S------'s offer
to reply, or might name time and place, and we should
invite all to be present. He then said, "The Roman Catholics
who attended me here understand Irish better than English;
you must address them in that language." I replied, "Sit
down, then, and I shall do so."
Upon this Mr O'Leary made a sudden and precipitate retreat,
crying out to the Roman Catholics, as he hastened down the
aisle, with his right hand elevated, and brandishing a
whip,—"Shulig, shulig, shulig," i.e., come along,
come along. They did not, however, accompany him in his
retreat, and I had two hours without further interruption to
improve the subject, and the circumstances. I sent a Roman
Catholic messenger next day, who fully made known his
errand, to invite him to come forward before all, and make
what defence he could for the Popedom; but, to the great
disappointment of the people, he did not turn up at the time
appointed, nor after; his own flock were heard to say, "it
was a mighty queer thing for his reverence to go there at
all, and not to stand his ground better than he did."
From this place we visited several islands, among
them one called Cape Clear, on which he had settled down to reside for
many years after, away from friends and comforts, and from civilisation,
to work in connexion with the Islands and Coasts Society, which has so
long, and with such abundant blessings from above, laboured for them and
the other desolate islands (140 of them) which surround the coast of
Ireland. This island is the extreme south-western point of Ireland, and
is full of interest, from its magnificent scenery, its ruins, the great
difficulty of reaching it across the dangerous sounds, and the character
of its superstitions, and of its inhabitants, all which it would take
too much space to describe. It had additional interest to me as the
scene of many former missionary labours with a beloved brother, now
successfully advancing the same truth in a heathen land, amidst the
"devil-worshippers" of dark superstition. We often presented the gospel
to them in their own loved tongue, in the midst of difficulties and
dangers. Mr S------ and I proceeded to the missionary station of the
Islands Society, along an almost impassable road, for nearly two miles
after landing. I was surprised to see how changed everything was; there
was a beautiful little church of ancient Irish architecture, lifting
itself above the magnificent south harbour, which looks into the Bay of
Biscay, in a place where, a few years before, it would require great
ardour of faith to predict its appearance for all time to come. There
was also a comfortable school-house and teacher's residence. We were
accompanied, on landing, by a naval gentleman, who, at the time, in the
exercise of true Christian self-denial, had excluded himself from
civilised life to reside among the islanders, and spend his income in
doing good to their souls and bodies. There were ninety-five persons
present at prayer and sermon in Irish, eight only of these were
originally Protestant, and who were not natives, all the others were
either converts or inquirers, assembled, too, in open day, though the
Romish priest was walking up and down before the door, a few yards
distant, stick in hand. In my sermon, which our naval friend did not
understand, I was enabled by his case, and that of the priest outside,
to illustrate the difference between the " works which are the fruits of
faith, and follow after justification," and "those done before the grace
of Christ and the inspiration of His Spirit." It was late at night
before we reached our boat, the poor people carrying fire before me, to
throw light upon the rugged path.
The following day Mr S------- accompanied me to
another of this group of islands, called Hare Island. This, too, had its
special interest for me, as, in attempting to carry the gospel to its
neglected inhabitants, some years before, the little yacht in which I
sailed was upset in a gale of wind, and went to the bottom, leaving me
to swim a mile before I reached this very island, where the people saved
me from being dashed to pieces upon the rocks, swathed me in their
flannel jackets, rubbed the heat into my exhausted body, and afterwards
sent me safely to the main-land. On the last occasion, I told them I was
the person to whom they had acted so humanely, and that I was come to
make a grateful return, by declaring to them very glad tidings in their
own tongue. The seed sown so oft before had in the meantime sprung up
there too. I found a congregation of converts gathered out of Popery, in
spite of every exertion of the priests and their wonted auxiliaries. It
was several years before this that I placed there a reader, one of the
first in the neighbourhood who left the Church of Rome. He was then the
only Protestant on the island. I found him there still—his name is Dan
Carty. He had relatives on the island, was much liked, and truly
eloquent in his own language. Many a storm has the poor fellow weathered
there, in more than one sense, and many an alternation of success and
reverse has he witnessed. When the local priest failed, there was a
visit from the bishop, and a procession of many priests, all in full
pontificals, to curse through the eyes as well as the ears, in a way to
impress and frighten the simple inhabitants. They cursed any who should
speak to him. On one occasion, I asked one of the people, who was always
on friendly terms, was it true that he refused to speak to Dan
Carty? He said it was true, because he did not wish to have the priest's
curse; "but, for all that," said he, "I never pass him by without
putting the pipe (doodeen) into his mouth to smoke." This was a mark of
unchanged friendship, and a silent yet eloquent protest against the
intolerance which enslaved them. On another occasion several who
resisted the curse were sent off for tickets, about twenty miles,
to the bishop, but on their way back they met Dan on the main-land, they
dined together, and one of them slept in the same bed with him,
but of course never spoke a word to him, and they gave him a seat in the
same ferry-boat to the isle—and all this when returning with their
ticket of pardon for speaking to him before! Are they not a kind
people in spite of the priest? Dan, however, had full liberty to speak
to them, and he used the opportunity. It is no wonder that a religion
working by frauds and superstition should in the long run fall before
the more permanent influence of the understanding and affection, and
that, after Romanism had wasted itself in turbulent passion, Dan Carty
had fifty children in attendance at the school the day of my visit, and
a teacher named Mr M'Sweeney, who could give them, as he said himself, a
"litheral definition of geography." I asked Dan Carty, "Is that school
the priest has built in opposition to you open yet?" " It is,
sir," said he; "it is open in the roof, your reverence," alluding to the
children of the islanders having deserted it for the scriptural school,
and the slates having been blown off by a gale of wind. As may well be
supposed, I had an interesting congregation to preach to. The wife of
Dan Carty, still a blind Romanist, was induced, for the first time in
her life, to come to hear a sermon from a Protestant minister. I fear it
was more the result of her good feeling towards myself than of any
higher motive. The kitchen, where I stood to preach, was full, and the
little bed-room also, divided off by a low mud partition. There was a
round hole in the mud-wall of the house, which did duty for a window,
and an
old hat shut out the wind and rain when light was
not wanted. In the little huts in which many of the peasantry live glass
is not used, in some places not known. I was actually present when a boy
broke a single pane of glass, which one of the decenter sort got up
(without sash, of course,) as a window, by throwing a stone at it; and
when the row began for this piece of mischief, the boy's old grandmother
declared that "he thought it was a piece of ice." But to return. I was
preaching about half-an-hour, contrasting the Scripture way of salvation
with the multitudinous plans invented by the Church of Rome, when I
heard a stir in the little room. The interruption was caused by Mrs
Carty, who, in her efforts to escape from the sermon, which she could no
longer stand, got stuck midway in the little window, her head hanging
down outside unsupported, and the grosser half on the inside. "Oh, hone!
Mrs McCarthy!" This was an urgent matter, and I had to stop till Mrs
Carty was extricated, and allowed to pass through the congregation, and
by the open door, when I was allowed to proceed without interruption.
Having taken leave of my friend, Mr S------, I
proceeded along the coast, preaching everywhere, according to
appointment; and, having witnessed much calculated to cheer, and
encountered some serious difficulties, I came, rather late on Sunday
evening, to a place called the Altar, several miles distant from where I
was engaged at noon. I found there an Irish-speaking clergyman of
learning, but very unostentatious zeal. There was just built, and opened
on this occasion for the first time, for Irish service, a neat church,
in ancient Irish architectural style—the desks, seats, pulpit, a kind of
rail-work, and open without panelling. The font is in the form of a
beehive, to convey the minister's idea, which is not my own, that the
church sent forth her swarms from the baptismal font. The pulpit is in
the same form, and it was from that I looked for a swarm on the
occasion. It is appropriately named, "Teampul na Mbochd," or "the poor
man's church," and truly is what it professes to be. There is an
inscription over the side door which interested me—"If there come unto
your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and there come
in also a poor man, in vile raiment; and ye have respect to him that
weareth the gay clothing, and say unto him, Sit thou here in a good
place; and say to the poor, Stand thou there, or sit here under my
footstool: are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges
of evil thoughts?" (James ii. 2-4.) There were assembled, when I
arrived, about three hundred poor people, in their own church. I was not
sorry, on ascending the pulpit, there was no accommodation for any one
who should ever follow me to lay down his written sermon, unless
he could speak unto the people the words of life. The candle was
stuck up against the wall by heating the plaster with its own light, and
then holding the candle against it till it adhered; and the candles all
through the building were all put up in the same way, by the simple plan
of adhesion, in the good old way. The earnestness with which the Lord
gave me to speak had a response in sobs and tears, and oft in
audibly-expressed concurrence of the simple and warm-hearted people whom
I had the privilege to address. When the Irish peasantry are very much
interested by a sermon, they wave the body to and fro, like standing
corn when the wind blows, and their mouths are always open, so that they
appear to hear through them, as well as through their ears, which are
the only means the English and Scotch have of hearing at all. The next
day's visiting with their excellent minister, from hut to hut, was one
of the most interesting in my whole life. The Irish prayers, they said,
were so blasta, that is, savoury: the sermon would not
soon be forgotten. In the year 1832 only five Protestant families lived
at this place; there were, when I visited, eighty families, and three
hundred Protestants had then left the parish for America within a few
years, of whom seventy emigrated in one year. Truth and superstition
were contending in almost every cottage, some members of the family
holding with one and some with the other. One very old man, whose
children were converts, had bought a horse when he felt himself get
feeble, "that he might be able to ride in the other world." Nine
Romish priests had been changed in the parish within a few years,
according as each was tried, and found to fail in the various devices
adopted to stop the progress of the gospel. The Society of St Vincent
de Paul had sent an array of proselytising monks, with medals for
sale and gratuitous distribution, and with money also, which they openly
offered to the converts, if they would return. I had a whole bunch of
the medals, and little idols of brass, representing various legends in
Romish books of devotion, with which they attempted to stay the progress
of the Word of God. In the western end of the parish, twelve miles from
the Altar, I was preaching at a place called Three Castle Head, a wild
and desolate region, where the minister had just finished the building
of a small house, for the double purpose of school and worship. Our next
neighbours on the west were the Americans. The mud-floor was quite soft.
The desk, before which I stood to preach, stuck in it, and so did most
of the people. I was exposing the folly of trusting in the brass medals
and gods of copper, and, having held up the bunch of lying vanities, let
them drop on the mud-floor to shew their helplessness. I was so much
occupied, I forgot the idols; and, after we left, I sent back one of the
converts, and told him he should find them stuck in the mud; to which he
replied—"Queer gods, your reverence ; gods that could be lost and go
astray." Keen and witty as these people are, it is wonderful what a
power the most silly superstitions have over them. One of the converts
on this coast was thrown back for, a long time in his inquiries after
truth, by his superstitious feeling in the following manner:—He once
attended Divine service in a Protestant church, on the occasion of a
visit to a city fifty miles distant from home, and before he had courage
to do so in his own parish. He was delighted with the solemnity in
worship, to which Romanists are unaccustomed, but still not quite at
ease on the first occasion. While the sermon proceeded, which much
pleased him, a spider, busily spinning his web from the roof, lighted
unexpectedly upon his nose, which so terrified him, that it was long
before he could get rid of the idea that the devil had visited, if not
possessed him, for attending church. This was on the shores of the
celebrated Bantry Bay, where I had an overflowing congregation of
Romanists and recent converts, the magnificent Hungry (Hungary) Hill
frowning from above us with its dark shadows upon that noble bay and its
beauteous islands. This same Hungry Hill is a rough customer sometimes,
as General Hoche's ships and armaments learned to their cost, when, on
the invitation of the Irish rebels, they endeavoured to land here in
days gone by; and it was the gale that blew down from the angry brow of
this fine mountain that cast some of them on the shores
of Bere Haven, and scattered others to the four winds of heaven,
meeting the fate of the Spanish Armada. Even the goats at the base of
this mountain are only half-civilised, for, unaccustomed to glass
windows, they broke the panes of this beautiful little church, fighting
with their shadow in the glass.