Part 2 (1/2)
Now here was a coup de main--not a syllable mentioned about Jemmy M'Evoy, until he had melted them down, ready for the impression, which he accordingly made to his heart's content.
”Ay,” he went on, ”an' 'tis the parish of Ballysogarth that has the name, far and near, for both, and well they desarve it. You won't see the poor gossoon go to a sthrange country--with empty pockets. He's the son of an honest man--one of yourselves; and although he's a poor man, you know 'twas Yallow Sam that made him so--that put him out of his comfortable farm and slipped a black-mouth * into it. You won't turn your backs on the son in regard of that, any way. As for Sam, let him pa.s.s; he'll not grind the poor, nor truckle to the rich, when he gives up his stewards.h.i.+p in the kingdom come. Lave him to the friend of the poor--to his G.o.d; but the son of them that he oppressed, you will stand up for. He's going to Munster, to learn 'to go upon the Mission:' and, on Sunday next, there will be a collection made here, and at the other two althars for him; and, as your own characters are at stake, I trust it will be neither mane nor shabby. There will be Protestants here, I'll engage, and you must act dacently before them, if it was only to set them a good example. And now I'll tell yez a story that the mintion of the Protestants brings to my mind:--
* In the North of Ireland the word black-mouth means a Presbyterian.
”There was, you see, a Protestant man and a Catholic woman once married together. The man was a swearing, drinking, wicked rascal, and his wife the same: between them they were a blessed pair to be sure. She never bent her knee under a priest until she was on her death-bed; nor was he known ever to enter a church door, or to give a s.h.i.+lling in charity but once, that being--as follows:--He was pa.s.sing a Catholic place of wors.h.i.+p one Sunday, on his way to fowl--for he had his dog and gun with him;--'twas beside a road, and many of the congregration were kneeling out across the way. Just as he pa.s.sed they were making a collection for a poor scholar--and surely they that love the larning desarve to be encouraged! Well, behold you, says one of them, 'will you remember the poor scholar,' says he, 'and put something in the hat? You don't know,'
says he, 'but his prayers will be before you.' (* In the other world.) 'True enough, maybe,' says the man, 'and there's a crown to him, for G.o.d's sake.' Well and good; the man died, and so did the wife; but the very day before her departure, she got a scapular, and died in it. She had one sister, however, a good crature, that did nothing but fast and pray, and make her sowl. This woman had strong doubts upon her mind, and was very much troubled as to whether or not her sister went to heaven; and she begged it as a favor from the blessed Virgin, that the state of her sister's sowl might be revaled to her. Her prayer was granted.
One night, about a week after her death, her sister came back to her, dressed, all in white, and circled round by a veil of glory.
”'Is that Mary?' said the living sister.
”'It is,' said the other; 'I have got liberty to appear to you,' says she, 'and to tell you that I'm happy.'
”'May the holy Virgin be praised!' said the other. 'Mary, dear, you have taken a great weight off of me,' says she: 'I thought you'd have a bad chance, in regard of the life you led.'
”'When I died,' said the spirit, 'and was on my way to the other world, I came to a place where the road divided itself into three parts;--one to heaven, another to h.e.l.l, and a third to purgatory. There was a dark gulf between me and heaven, and a breach between me and purgatory that I couldn't step across, and if I had missed my foot there, I would have dropped into h.e.l.l. So I would, too, only that the blessed Virgin put my own scapular over the breach, and it became firm, and I stepped on it, and got over. The Virgin then desired me to look into h.e.l.l, and the first person I saw was my own husband, standing with a green sod under his feet! 'He got that favor,' said the blessed Virgin, 'in consequence of the prayers of a holy priest, that had once been a poor scholar, that he gave a.s.sistance to, at a collection made for him in such a chapel,'
says she, 'Then,' continued the sowl, 'Mary,' says she, 'but there's some great change in the world since I died, or why would the people live so long? It can't be less than six thousand years since I departed, and yet I find every one of my friends just as I left them.'
”'Why,' replied the living sister, 'you're only six days dead.'
”'Ah, avourneen!' said the other, 'it can't be--it can't be! for I have been thousands on thousands of years in pain!'--and as she spoke this she disappeared.
”Now there's a proof of the pains of purgatory, where one day seems as long as a thousand years; and you know we oughtn't to grudge a thrifle to a fellow-crature, that we may avoid it. So you see, my friends, there's nothing like good works. You know not when or where this lad's prayers may benefit you. If he gets ordained, the first ma.s.s he says will be for his benefactors; and in every one he celebrates after that, they must also be remembered: the words are _pro omnibus benefactoribus meis, per omnia secula secularum!_
”Thirdly--hem--I now lave the thing to yourselves.
”But wasn't I match for Pettier Donovan, that would brake a stone for the marrow *--Eh?--(a broad laugh at Pother's rueful visage.)--Pettier, you Turk, will your heart never soften--will you never have dacency, an'
you the only man of your family that's so? Sure they say you're going to be marrid some of these days. Well, if you get your wife in my parish, I tell you, Pettier, I'll give you a fleecin', for don't think I'll marry you as chape as I would a poor honest man. I'll make you sh.e.l.l out the yallowboys, and 'tis that will go to your heart, you nager you; and then I'll eat you out of house and home at the Stations. May the Lord grant us, in the mane time, a dacent appet.i.te, a blessing which I wish you all,------&c.”
* I know not whether this may be considered worthy of a note or not. I have myself frequently seen and tasted what is appropriately termed by the peasantry ”Stone Marrow.” It is found in the heart of a kind of soft granite, or perhaps I should rather say freestone. The country people use it medicinally, but I cannot remember what particular disease it is said to cure. It is a soft, saponaceous substance, not unpleasant to the taste, of a bluish color, and melts in the mouth, like the fat of cold meat, leaving the palate greasy. How far an investigation into its nature and properties might be useful to the geologist or physician, it is not for me to conjecture. As the fact appeared to be a curious one, and necessary, moreover, to ill.u.s.trate the expression used in the text, I thought it not amiss to mention it. It may be a _bonne bouche_ for the geologists.
At this moment the congregation was once more in convulsions of laughter at the dressing which Peter, whose character was drawn with much truth and humor, received at the hands of the worthy pastor.
Our readers will perceive that there was not a single prejudice, or weakness, or virtue, in the disposition of his auditory, left untouched in this address. He moved their superst.i.tion, their pride of character, their dread of h.e.l.l and purgatory, their detestation of Yellow Sam, and the remembrance of the injury so wantonly inflicted on M'Evoy's family; he glanced at the advantage to be derived from the lad's prayers, the example they should set to Protestants, made a pa.s.sing hit at t.i.thes; and indulged in the humorous, the pathetic, and the miraculous. In short, he left no avenue to their hearts untouched; and in the process by which he attempted to accomplish his object he was successful.
There is, in fact, much rude, unpolished eloquence among the Roman Catholic priesthood, and not a little which, if duly cultivated by study and a more liberal education, would deserve to be ranked very high.
We do not give this as a specimen of their modern pulpit eloquence, but as a sample of that in which some of those Irish clergy shone, who, before the establishment of Maynooth, were admitted to orders immediately from the hedge-schools, in consequence of the dearth of priests which then existed in Ireland. It was customary in those days to ordain them even before they departed for the continental colleges, in order that they might, by saying ma.s.ses and performing other clerical duties, be enabled to add something to the scanty pittance which was appropriated to their support. Of the cla.s.s to which Father Kavanagh belonged, there are few, if any, remaining. They sometimes were called ”Hedge-priests,” * byway of reproach; though for our own parts, we wish their non-interference in politics, unaffected piety, and simplicity of character, had remained behind them.
* This nickname was first bestowed upon them by the continental priests, who generally ridiculed them for their vulgarity. They were, for the most! part, simple but worthy men.
On the Sunday following, Dominick M'Evoy and his son Jemmy attended ma.s.s, whilst the other members of the family, with that sense of honest pride which is more strongly inherent in Irish character than is generally supposed, remained at home, from a reluctance to witness what they could not but consider a degradation. This decency of feeling was antic.i.p.ated by the priest, and not overlooked by the people; for the former, the reader may have observed, in the whole course of his address never once mentioned the word ”charity;” nor did the latter permit the circ.u.mstance to go without its reward, according to the best of their ability. So keen and delicate are the perceptions of the Irish, and so acutely alive are they to those nice distinctions of kindness and courtesy, which have in their hearts a spontaneous and st.u.r.dy growth, that mocks at the stunted virtues of artificial life.
In the parish of Ballysogarth there were three altars, or places of Roman Catholic wors.h.i.+p; and the reader may suppose that the collection made at each place was considerable. In truth, both father and son's antic.i.p.ations were far under the sum collected. Protestants and Presbyterians attended with their contributions, and those of the latter who scrupled to be present at what they considered an idolatrous wors.h.i.+p, did not hesitate to send their quota by some Roman Catholic neighbor.
Their names were accordingly announced with an encomium from the priest, which never failed to excite a warm-hearted murmur of approbation.
Nor was this feeling transient, for, we will venture to say, that had political excitement flamed up even to rebellion and mutual slaughter, the persons and property of those individuals would have been held sacred.
At length Jemmy was equipped; and sad and heavy became the hearts of his parents and immediate relations as the morning appointed for his departure drew nigh. On the evening before, several of his more distant relatives came to take their farewell of him, and, in compliance with the usages of Irish hospitality, they were detained for the night. They did not, however, come empty-handed: some brought money; some brought linen, stockings, or small presents--”jist, Jimmy, asth.o.r.e, to keep me in yer memory, sure,--and nothin' else it is for, mavourneen.”
Except Jemmy himself, and one of his brothers who was to accompany him part of the way, none of the family slept. The mother exhibited deep sorrow, and Dominick, although he made a show of firmness, felt, now that the crisis was at hand, nearly incapable of parting with the boy. The conversation of their friends and the cheering effects of the poteen, enabled them to sustain his loss better than they otherwise would have done, and the hope of seeing him one day ”an ordained priest,” contributed more than either to support them.