“You have me there, sir,” he replied, with a grin.
“Because,” said his Reverence, “the Protestants, for the present, have,
the law of the land on their side, and power over you to compel the
payment of tithes to themselves; but we have right, justice, and the law
of God on ours; and, if every thing was in its proper place, it is not
to the parsons, but to us, that you would pay them.”
“Well, well, sir,” replied Kelly, who now experienced a community of
feeling upon the subject with his Reverence, that instantly threw him
into a familiarity of manner which he thought the point between them
justified--“who knows, sir?” said he with a knowing smile, “there's a
good time coming, yer Rev'rence.”
“Ay,” said Father Philemy, “wait till we get once into the Big* House,
and if we don't turn the scales--if the Established Church doesn't
go down, why, it won't be our fault. Now, Kelly, all's right but the
money--have you brought your dues?”
* Parliament. This was written before the passing of
the Emancipation Bill.
“Here it is, sir,” said Kelly, handing him his dues for the last year.
It is to be observed here, that, according as the penitents went to be
examined, or to kneel down to confess, a certain sum was exacted from
each, which varied according to the arrears that might have been due to
the priest. Indeed, it is not unusual for the host and hostess, on these
occasions, to be refused a participation in the sacrament, until they
pay this money, notwithstanding the considerable expense they are put to
in entertaining not only the clergy, but a certain number of their own
friends and relations.
“Well, stand aside, I'll hear you first; and now, come up here, you
young gentleman, that laughed so heartily a while ago at my joke--ha,
ha, ha!--come up here, child.”
A lad now approached him, whose face, on a first view, had something
simple and thoughtless in it, but in which, on a closer inspection,
might be traced a lurking, sarcastic humor, of which his Reverence never
dreamt.
“You're for confession, of course?” said the priest.
“_Of coorse_,” said the lad, echoing him, and laying a stress upon
the word, which did not much elevate the meaning of the compliance in
general with the rite in question.
“Oh!” exclaimed the priest, recognizing him when he approached--“you are
Dan Fagan's son, and designed for the church yourself; you are a good
Latinist, for I remember examining you in Erasmus about two years
ago--_Quomodo sehabet corpus tuum, charum lignum sacredotis_”
“_Valde, Domine_,” replied the lad, “_Quomodo se habet anima tua, charum
exemplar sacerdotage, et fulcrum robustissium Ecclesiae sacrosancte_?”
“Very good, Harry,” replied his Reverence, laughing--“stand aside; I'll
hear you after Kelly.”
He then called up a man with a long melancholy face, which he noticed
before to have been proof against his joke, and after making two
or three additional and fruitless experiments upon his gravity, he
commenced a cross fire of peevish interrogatories, which would have
excluded him from the “tribunal” on that occasion, were it not that the
man was remarkably well prepared, and answered the priest's questions
very pertinently.
This over, he repaired to his room, where the work of absolution
commenced; and, as there was a considerable number to be rendered
sinless before the hour of dinner, he contrived to unsin them with an
alacrity that was really surprising.
Immediately after the conversation already detailed between his
Reverence and Phaddhy, the latter sought Katty, that he might
communicate to her the unlucky oversight which they had committed, in
neglecting to provide fresh meat and wine. “We'll be disgraced forever,”
said Phaddhy, “without either a bit of mutton or a bottle of wine for
the gintlemen, and that big thief Parrah More Slevin had both.”
“And I hope,” replied Katty, “that you're not so mane as to let any of
that faction outdo you in dacency, the nagerly set? It was enough for
them to bate us in the law-shoot about the horse, and not to have the
laugh agin at us about this.”
“Well, that same law-shoot is not over with them yet,” said Phaddhy;
“wait till the spring fair comes, and if I don't have a faction gathered
that'll sweep them out of the town, why my name's not Phaddhy! But where
is Matt till we sind him off?”
“Arrah, Phaddhy,” said Katty, “wasn't it friendly of Father Philemy to
give us the hard word about the wine and mutton?”
“Very friendly,” retorted Phaddhy, who, after all, appeared to have
suspected the priest--“very friendly, indeed, when it's to put a good
joint before himself, and a bottle of wine in his jacket. No, no, Katty!
it's not altogether for the sake of Father Philemy, but I wouldn't have
the neighbors say that I was near and undacent; and above all tilings,
I wouldn't be worse nor the Slevins--for the same set would keep it up
agin us long enough.”
Our readers will admire the tact with which Father Philemy worked upon
the rival feeling between the factions; but, independently of this,
there is a generous hospitality in an Irish peasant which would urge him
to any stratagem, were it even the disposal of his only cow, sooner than
incur the imputation of a narrow, or, as he himself terms it, “undacent”
or “nagerly” spirit.
In the course of a short time, Phaddhy dispatched two messengers, one
for the wine, and another for the mutton; and, that they might not
have cause for any unnecessary delay, he gave them the two reverend
gentlemen's horses, ordering them to spare neither whip nor spur until
they returned. This was an agreeable command to the messengers, who, as
soon as they found themselves mounted, made a bet of a “trate,” to be
paid on arriving in the town to which they were sent, to him who should
first reach a little stream that crossed the road at the entrance of it,
called the “Pound burn.” But I must not forget to state, that they not
only were mounted on the priest's horses, but took their great-coats, as
the day had changed, and threatened to rain. Accordingly, on getting out
upon the main road, they set off, whip and spur, at full speed, jostling
one another, and cutting each other's horses as if they had been
intoxicated; and the fact is, that, owing to the liberal distribution of
the bottle that morning, they were not far from it.
[Illustration: PAGE 756-- They set off, whip and spur, at full speed]
“Bliss us!” exclaimed the country people, as they passed, “what on airth
can be the matther with Father Philemy and Father Con, that they're
abusing wan another at sich a rate!”
“Oh!” exclaimed another, “it's apt to be a sick call, and they're
thrying, maybe, to be there before the body grows cowld.”
“Ay, it may be,” a third conjectured, “it's to old Magennis, that's on
the point of death, and going to lave all his money behind him.”
But their astonishment was not a whit lessened, when, in about an hour
afterwards, they perceived them both return; the person who represented
Father Con having an overgrown leg of mutton slung behind his back like
an Irish harp, reckless of its friction against his Reverence's coat,
which it had completely saturated with grease; and the duplicate of
Father Philemy with a sack over his shoulder, in the bottom of which was
half a dozen of Mr. M'Laughlin's best port.
Phaddhy, in the meantime, being determined to mortify his rival Parrah
More by a superior display of hospitality, waited upon that parsonage,
and exacted a promise from him to come down and partake of the dinner--a
promise which the other was not slack in fulfilling. Phaddhy's heart was
now on the point of taking its rest, when it occurred to him that there
yet remained one circumstance in which he might utterly eclipse his
rival, and that was to ask Captain Wilson, his landlord, to meet their
Reverences at dinner. He accordingly went over to him, for he only lived
a few fields distant, having first communicated the thing privately to
Katty, and requested that, as their Reverences that day held a station
in his house, and would dine there, he would have the kindness to dine
along with them. To this the Captain, who was intimate with both the
clergymen, gave a ready compliance, and Phaddhy returned home in high
spirits.
In the meantime, the two priests were busy in the work of absolution;
the hour of three had arrived, and they had many to shrive; but, in
the course of a short time, a reverend auxiliary made his appearance,
accompanied by one of Father Philemy's nephews, who was then about to
enter Maynooth. This clerical gentleman had been appointed to a parish;
but, owing to some circumstances which were known only in the distant
part of the diocese where he had resided, he was deprived of it, and
had, at the period I am writing of, no appointment in the church,
though he was in full orders. If I mistake not, he incurred his bishop's
displeasure by being too warm an advocate for Domestic Nomination,* a
piece of discipline, the re-establishment of which was then attempted by
the junior clergymen of the diocese wherein the scene of this station
is laid. Be this as it may, he came in time to assist the gentlemen in
absolving those penitents (as we must call them so) who still remained
unconfessed.
* Domestic Nomination was the right claimed by a
portion of the Irish clergy to appoint their own
bishops, independently of the Pope.
During all this time Katty was in the plenitude of her authority, and
her sense of importance manifested itself in a manner that was by no
means softened by having been that morning at her duty. Her tones
were not so shrill, nor so loud as they would have been, had not their
Reverences been within hearing; but what was wanting in loudness, was
displayed in a firm and decided energy, that vented, itself frequently
in the course of the day upon the backs and heads of her sons,
daughters, and servants, as they crossed her path in the impatience
and bustle of her employment. It was truly ludicrous to see her, on
encountering one of them in these fretful moments, give him a drive
head-foremost against the wall, exclaiming, as she shook her fist at
him, “Ho, you may bless your stars, that they're under the roof, or it
wouldn't go so asy wid you; for if goodness hasn't said it, you'll
make me lose my sowl this blessed and holy day: but this is still the
case--the very time I go to my duty, the devil (between us and harm)
is sure to throw fifty temptations acrass me, and to help him, you must
come in my way--but wait till tomorrow, and if I, don't pay you for
this, I'm not here.”
That a station is an expensive ordinance to the peasant who is honored
by having one held in his house, no one who knows the characteristic
hospitality of the Irish people can doubt. I have reason, however, to
know that, within the last few years, stations in every sense have been
very much improved, where they have not been abolished altogether.
The priests now are not permitted to dine in the houses of their
parishioners, by which a heavy tax has been removed from the people.
About four o'clock the penitents were at length all despatched; and
those who were to be detained for dinner, many of whom had not eaten
anything until then, in consequence of the necessity of receiving the
Eucharist fasting, were taken aside to taste some of Phaddhy's poteen.
At length the hour of dinner arrived, and along with it the redoubtable
Parra More Slevin, Captain Wilson, and another nephew of Father
Philemy's, who had come to know what detained his brother who had
conducted the auxiliary priest to Phaddhy's. It is surprising on these
occasions, to think how many uncles, nephews, and cousins, to the
forty-Second degree, find it needful to follow their Reverences on
messages of various kinds; and it is equally surprising to observe with
what exactness they drop in during the hour of dinner. Of course,
any blood-relation or friend of the priests must be received with
cordiality; and consequently they do not return without solid proofs
of the good-natured hospitality of poor Paddy, who feels no greater
pleasure than in showing his “dacency” to any one belonging to his
Reverence.
I dare say it would be difficult to find a more motley and diversified
company than sat down to the ungarnished fare which Katty laid before
them. There were first Fathers Philemy, Con, and the Auxiliary from the
far part of the diocese; next followed Captain Wilson, Peter Malone, and
Father Philemy's two nephews; after these came Phaddhy himself, Parrah
More Slevin, with about two dozen more of the most remarkable and
uncouth personages that could sit down to table. There were besides
about a dozen of females, most of whom by this time, owing to Katty's
private kindness, were in a placid state of feeling. Father Philemy _ex
officio_, filled the chair--he was a small man with cherub cheeks as red
as roses, black twinkling eyes, and double chin; was of the fat-headed
genus, and, if phrenologists be correct, must have given indications
of early piety, for he was bald before his time, and had the organ of
veneration standing visible on his crown; his hair from having once been
black, had become an iron gray, and hung down behind his ears, resting
on the collar of his coat according to the old school, to which, I must
remark, he belonged, having been educated on the Continent. His coat
had large double breasts, the lappels of which hung down loosely on each
side, being the prototype of his waistcoat, whose double breasts fell
downwards in the same manner--his black small-clothes had silver buckles
at the knees, and the gaiters, which did not reach up so far, discovered
a pair of white lamb's-wool stockings, somewhat retreating from their
original color.
Father Con was a tall, muscular, able-bodied young man, with an
immensely broad pair of shoulders, of which he was vain; his black hair
was cropped close, except a thin portion of it which was trimmed quite
evenly across his eyebrows; he was rather bow-limbed, and when walking
looked upwards, holding out his elbows from his body, and letting the
lower parts of his arms fall down, so that he went as if he carried a
keg under each; his coat, though not well made, was of the best glossy
broadcloth--and his long clerical boots went up about his knees like
a dragoon's; there was an awkward stiffness about him, in very good
keeping with a dark melancholy cast of countenance, in which, however, a
man might discover an air of simplicity not to be found in the visage of
his superior Father Philemy.
The latter gentleman filled the chair, as I said, and carved the goose;
on his right sat Captain Wilson; on his left, the auxiliary--next to
them Father Con, the nephews, Peter Malone, _et cetera_. To enumerate
the items of the dinner is unnecessary, as our readers have a pretty
accurate notion of them from what we have already said. We can only
observe, that when Phaddhy saw it laid, and all the wheels of the system
fairly set agoing, he looked at Parrah More with an air of triumph
which he could not conceal. It is also unnecessary for us to give the
conversation in full; nor, indeed, would we attempt giving any portion
of it, except for the purpose of showing the spirit in which a religious
ceremony such as it is, is too frequently closed.
The talk in the beginning was altogether confined to the clergymen and
Mr. Wilson, including a few diffident contributions from “Peter Malone”
and the “two nephews.”
“Mr. M'Guirk,” observed Captain Wilson, after the conversation had taken
several turns, “I'm sure that in the course of your professional duties,
sir, you must have had occasion to make many observations upon human
nature, from the circumstance of seeing it in every condition and state
of feeling possible; from the baptism of the infant, until the aged man
receives the last rites of your church, and the soothing consolation of
religion from your hand.”
“Not a doubt of it, Phaddhy,” said Father Philemy to Phaddhy, whom
he had been addressing at the time, “not a doubt of it; and I'll
do everything in my power to get him _in_* too, and I am told he is
bright.”
* That is--into Maynooth college--the great object of
ambition to the son of an Irish peasant or rather to
his parent.
“Uncle,” said one of the nephews, “this gentleman is speaking to you.”
“And why not?” continued his Eeverence, who was so closely engaged with
Phaddhy, that he did not even hear the nephew's appeal--“a bishop--and
why not? Has he not as good a chance of being a bishop as any of them?
though, God knows, it is not always merit that gets a bishopric in any
church, or I myself might--But let that pass.” said he, fixing his eyes
on the bottle. “Father Philemy,” said Father Con, “Captain Wilson was
addressing himself to you in a most especial manner.”
“Oh! Captain, I beg ten thousand pardons, I was engaged talking with
Phaddhy here about his son, who is a young shaving of our cloth, sir, he
is intended for the Mission*--Phaddhy, I will either examine him myself,
or make Father Con examine him by-and-by.--Well, Captain?” The Captain
now repeated what he had said.
* The Church of Rome existing in any heretical country--
that is, where she herself is not the State church--is
considered a missionary establishment; and taking
orders in her is termed “Going upon the Mission.” Even
Ireland is looked upon as _in partibus infidelium_,
because Protestantism is established by law--hence the
phrase above.
“Very true, Captain, and we do see it in as many shapes as ever--Con,
what do you call him?--put on him.”
“Proteus,” subjoined Con, who was famous at the classics.
Father Philemy nodded for the assistance, and continued--“but as for
human nature, Captain, give it to me at a good rousing christening;
or what is better again, at a jovial wedding between two of my own
parishioners--say this pretty fair-haired daughter of Phaddhy Shemus
Phaddhy's here, and long Ned Slevin, Parrah More's son there--eh
Phaddhy, will it be a match?--what do you say, Parrah More? Upon my
veracity I must bring that about.”
“Why, then, yer Reverence,” replied Phaddhy, who was now a little
softened, and forgot his enmity against Parrah More for the present,
“unlikelier things might happen.”
“It won't be my fault,” said Parrah More, “if my son Ned has no
objection.”
“He object!” replied Father Philemy, “if' I take it in hands, let me see
who'll dare to object; doesn't the Scripture say it? and sure we can't
go against the Scripture.”
“By the by,” said Captain Wilson, who was a dry humorist, “I am happy to
be able to infer from what you say, Father Philemy, that you are not, as
the clergymen of your church are supposed to be, inimical to the Bible.”
“Me an enemy to the Bible! no such thing, sir; but, Captain, begging
your pardon we will have nothing more about the bible; you see we are
met here, as friends and good fellows, to enjoy ourselves after the
severity of our spiritual duties, and we must relax a little; we can't
always carry long faces like Methodist parsons--come, Pairah More, let
the Bible take a nap, and give us a song.”
His Reverence was now seconded in his motion by the most of all present,
and Parrah More accordingly gave them a song. After a few songs more,
the conversation went on as before.
“Now, Parrah More,” said Phaddhy, “you must try my wine; I hope it's as
good as what you gave his Reverence yesterday.” The words, however, had
scarcely passed his lips, when Father Philemy burst out into a fit
of laughter, clapping and rubbing his hands in a manner the most
irresistible. “Oh, Phaddhy, Phaddhy!” shouted his Reverence, laughing
heartily, “I done you for once--I done you, my man, cute as you thought
yourself: why, you nager you, did you think to put us off with punch,
and you have a stocking of hard guineas hid in a hole in the wall?”
“What does yer Rev'rence mane,” said Phaddhy; “for myself can make no
understanding out of it, at all at all?”
To this his Reverence only replied by another laugh.
“I gave his Reverence no wine,” said Parrah More, in reply to Phaddhy's
question.
“What!” said Phaddhy, “none yesterday, at the station held with you?”
“Not a bit of me ever thought of it.”
“Nor no mutton?”
“Why, then, devil a morsel of mutton, Phaddhy; but we had a rib of
beef.”
Phaddhy now looked over to his Reverence rather sheepishly, with the
smile of a man on his face who felt himself foiled. “Well, yer Reverence
has done me, sure enough,” he replied, rubbing his head--“I give it up
to you, Father Philemy; but any how, I'm glad I got it, and you're all
welcome from the core of my heart. I'm only sorry I haven't as much more
now to thrate you all like gintlemen; but there's some yet, and as much
punch as will make all our heads come round.”
Our readers must assist us with their own imaginations, and suppose the
conversation to have passed very pleasantly, and the night, as well
as the guests, to be somewhat far gone. The principal part of the
conversation was borne by the three clergymen, Captain Wilson, and
Phaddy; that of the two nephews and Peter Malone ran in an under current
of its own; and in the preceding part of the night, those who occupied
the bottom of the table, spoke to each other rather in whispers, being
too much restrained by that rustic bashfulness which ties up the tongues
of those who feel that their consequence is overlooked among their
superiors. According as the punch circulated, however, their diffidence
began to wear off; and occasionally an odd laugh or so might be heard
to break the monotony of their silence. The youngsters, too, though at
first almost in a state of terror, soon commenced plucking each other;
and a titter, or a suppressed burst of laughter, would break forth from
one of the more waggish, who was put to a severe task in afterwards
composing his countenance into sufficient gravity to escape detection,
and a competent portion of chastisement the next day, for not being able
to “behave himself with betther manners.”
During these juvenile breaches of decorum, Katty would raise her arm
in a threatening attitude, shake her head at them, and look up at the
clergy, intimating more by her earnestness of gesticulation than met
the ear. Several songs again went round, of which, truth to tell,
Father Philomy's were by far the best; for he possessed a rich, comic
expression of eye, which, added to suitable ludicrousness of gesture,
and a good voice, rendered him highly amusing to the company. Father
Con declined singing, as being decidedly serious, though he was often
solicited.
“He!” said Father Philemy, “he has no more voice than a woolpack;
but Con's a cunning fellow. What do you think, Captain Wilson, but
he pretends to be too pious to sing, and gets credit for piety,--not
because he is devout, but because he has a bad voice; now, Con, you
can't deny it, for there's not a man in the three kingdoms knows it
better than myself; you sit there with a face upon you that might go
before the Lamentations of Jeremiah the Prophet, when you ought to be as
jovial as another.”
“Well, Father Philemy,” said Phaddhy, “as he won't sing, may be, wid
submission he'd examine Briney in his Latin, till his mother and I hear
how's he doing at it.”
“Ay, he's fond of dabbling at Latin, so he may try him--I'm sure I have
no objection--: so, Captain, as I was telling you--”
“Silence there below!” said Phaddhy to those at the lower end of the
table, who were now talkative enough; “will yez whisht there till Father
Con hears Briney a lesson in his Latin. Where are you, Briney? come
here, ma bouchal.”
But Briney had absconded when he saw that the tug of war was about to
commence. In a few minutes, however, the father returned, pushing
the boy before him, who in his reluctance to encounter the ordeal of
examination, clung to every chair, table, and person in his way, hoping
that his restiveness might induce them to postpone the examination till
another occasion. The father, however, was inexorable, and by main force
dragged him from all his holds, and, placed him before Father Con.