prepared for a most unexpected proposal, which the spokeswoman, after
some private conversation with the other, undertook to make. I could not
imagine what the purport of the dialogue was; but I easily saw, that
I myself was the subject of it, for I could perceive them glance at me
occasionally, as if they felt a degree of hesitation in laying down
the matter for my approval; at length she opened it with great
adroitness:--“Musha, an' to be sure he will, Katty dear an' darlin'--and
mightn't you know he would--the refusin' to do it isn't in his face, as
any body that has eyes to see may know--you ashamed!--and what for would
ye be ashamed?--asthore, it's 'imself that's not proud, or he wouldn't
tramp it, barefooted, along wud two ould crathurs like huz; him that has
no sin to answer for--but I'll spake to 'im myself, and yell see it's
he that won't refuse it. Why thin, your Reverence, Katty an' I war
thinkin', that as there's only three of us, an' the town's afore us,
where we'll rest a while, plaise God--for by that time the shower that's
away over there will be comin' down;--that as there's but three of us,
would it be any harm if we sed a bit of a Rosary, and your Reverence to
join us?”
This was, indeed, a most unexpected attack; but it was evident that I
was set down by this curious woman as a paragon of piety; though
indeed her object was rather to smooth the way in my mind, for what she
intended should be a very excellent opinion of her own godliness.
I looked about me, and as far as my eye could reach, the road appeared
solitary. I did, 'tis true, debate the matter with myself, pro and con,
for I felt the absurdity of my situation, and of this abrupt proposal,
more than I was willing to suppose I did. Still, thought I, it is a
serious thing to refuse praying with this poor woman, because she is
poor--God is no respecter of person--this too is a Rosary to the Blessed
Virgin; besides, nothing can be too humbling for a person when once
engaged in this holy station--“So, pride, I trample you under my feet!”
said I to myself, at a moment when the appearance of a respectable
person on the road would have routed all my humility. I complied,
however, with a very condescending grace, and to it we went. The old
women pulled out their beads, and I got my hat, which had one of my
shoes in it, under my arm. They requested that I would open the Rosary,
which I did: and thus we kept tossing the ball of prayer from one to
another along the way, whilst I was bending and sinking on the hard
gravel in perfect agony. But we had not gone far, when the shower, which
we did not suppose would have fallen until we should reach the town,
began to descend with greater bounty than we were at all prepared for,
or than I was, at least; for I had no outside coat: but indeed the
morning was so beautiful, that rain was scarcely to be apprehended. With
respect to the old lady, she appeared to be better acquainted with the
necessary preparations for such a journey than I had been: for as soon
as the shower became heavy (and it fell very heavily), she whipped off
her cloak, and before I could say a syllable to the contrary, had it
pinned about me. She then drew out of a large four-cornered pocket
of red cloth, that hung at her side, a hare's-skin cap, which in
a twinkling was on her own cranium. But what was most singular,
considering the heat of the weather, was the appearance of an excellent
frieze jacket, such as porters and draymen usually wear, with two
outside pockets on the sides, into one of which she drove her arm up to
the elbow, and in the other hand carried her staff like a man--I thought
she wore the cap, too, a little to the one side on her head. Indeed,
a more ludicrous appearance could scarcely be conceived than she now
exhibited. I, on the other hand, cut an original figure, being six
feet high, with a short gray cloak pinned tightly about me, my black
cassimere small-clothes peeping below it--my long, yellow, polar legs,
unencumbered with calves, quite naked--a good hat over the cloak--but
no shoes on my feet, marching thus gravely upon my pilgrimage, with two
such figures!
In this singular costume did we advance the rain all the time falling
in torrents. The town, however, was not far distant, and we arrived at
a little thatched house, where “dry lodgin'” was offered above the door,
both to “man and baste;” and never did an unfortunate group stand more
in need of dry lodging, for we were wet to the skin. On entering the
town, we met a carriage, in which were a gentleman and two ladies: I
chanced to be walking a little before the woman, but could perceive, by
casting a glance into the carriage, that they were in convulsions with
laughter; to which I have strong misgivings of having contributed in no
ordinary degree. But I felt more indignant at the wit, forsooth, of the
well-fed serving-man behind the coach, who should also have his joke
upon us; for as we passed, he turned to my companion, whom he addressed
as a male personage--“And why, you old villain, do you drive your cub to
the 'island' pinioned in such a manner,--give him the use of his
arms, you sinner!”--thus intimating that I was a booby son of her's
in leading-strings. The old lady looked at him with a very peculiar
expression of countenance; I thought she smiled, but never did a smile
appear to me so pregnant with bitterness and cursing scorn. “Ay,” said
she, “there goes the well-fed heretic, that neither fasts nor prays--his
God is his belly--they have the fat of the land for the present, your
Reverence, but wait a bit. In the mane time, we had betther get in
here a little, till this shower passes--you see the sun's beginnin' to
brighten behind the rain, so it can't last long: and a bit of breakfast
will do none of us any harm.” We then entered the house aforesaid, which
presented a miserable prospect for refreshment; but as I was in some
measure identified with my fellow-travelers, I could not with a good
grace give them up. I had not at the time the least experience of the
world, was incapable of that discrimination which guides some people, as
it were by instinct, in choosing their society, and had altogether but
a poor notion of the more refined decorum of life. When we got in, the
equivocal lady began to exercise some portion of authority. “Come,” said
she, “here's a clargyman, and you had betther lose no time in gettin'
his Reverence his breakfast;” then, said, the civil creature to the
mistress, in the same kind of half audible tone--
“Avourneen, if you have anything comfortable, get it for him; he is
generous, an' will pay you well for it; a blessed crathur he is too, as
ever brought good luck under your roof; Lord love you, if ye hard him
discoursin' uz along the road, as if he was one of ourselves, so mild
and sweet! I'm sure I'll always have a good opinion of myself for
puttin' on the jacket this bout, at any rate, as I was able to spare his
Reverence the cloak, a-haygur! the mild crathur!”
While my fellow traveller was thus talking, I had time to observe that
the woman of the house was a cleanly-looking creature, with something of
a sickly appearance. An old gray-headed man sat in something between a
chair and a stool, formed of one solid piece of ash, supported by three
legs sloping outwards; the seat of it was quite smooth by long use, and
a circular row of rungs, capped by a piece of semicircular wood, shaped
to receive the reclining body of whoever might occupy it, rose from the
seat in presumptuous imitation of an arm-chair. There were two other
chairs besides this, but the remainder of the seats were all stools. The
room was square, with a bed in each of the corners adjoining the fire,
covered with blue drugget quilts, stoutly quilted; there was another
room in which the travellers slept. Opposite me on the wall was the
appropriate picture of St. Patrick himself, with his crosier in hand,
driving all kinds of venomous reptiles out of the kingdom. The Hermit
of Killamey was on his right, and the Yarmouth Tragedy, or the dolorious
history of Jemmy and Nancy, two unfortunate lovers, on his left. Such is
the rigorous economy of a pilgrimage, and such is the circumstances of
the greater part of those who undertake it, that it is to houses of this
description the generality of them resort. These “dry lodging” houses
may not improperly be called Pilgrims' Inns, a great number of them
being opened only during the continuance of the three months in which
the stations are performed.
Breakfast was now got ready, but it was evident that my two companions
had not been taken into account; for there was “an equipage” only for
one. I inquired from my speaking partner if she and her fellow-traveller
would not breakfast. The only reply I received was a sorrowful shake
of the head, and “Och, no, plaise your Reverence, no!” in quite an
exhausted cadence. On hearing this, the kind landlady gave them a look
of uncommon pity, exclaiming at the same time, as if in communication
with her own feelings, “Musha, God pity them, the poor crathurs; an
they surely can't but be both wake an ungry afther sich a journey, this
blessed an' broilin'day--och! och! if I had it or could afford it, an'
they shouldn't want, any way--arrah, won't ye thry and ate a bit of
something?” addressing herself to them. “Ooh, then, no, alanna, but I'd
just thank ye for a dhrink of cowld wather, if ye plase; an' that may
be the strengthenin' of us a bit.” I saw at once that their own little
stock of provisions, if they really had any, was too scanty to allow the
simple creatures the indulgence of a regular meal; still I thought
they might, if they felt so very weak, have taken even the slightest
refreshment from their bags. However, I was bound in honor, and also in
charity, to give them their breakfast, which I ordered accordingly
for them both, it being, I considered, only fair that as we had prayed
together we should eat together. Whilst we were at breakfast, the
landlady, with a piece of foresight for which I afterwards thanked her,
warmed a pot of water, in which my feet were bathed; she then took out a
large three-cornered pincushion with tassels, which hung at her side, a
darning needle, and having threaded it, she drew a white woollen thread
several times along a piece of soap, pressing it down with her thumb
until it was quite soapy; this she drew very tenderly through the
blisters which were risen on my feet, cutting it at both ends, and
leaving a part of it in the blister. It is decidedly the best remedy
that ever was tried, for I can declare that during the remainder of my
pilgrimage, not one of these blisters gave me the least pain.
When breakfast was over, and these kind attentions performed, we set out
once more; and from this place, I remarked, as we advanced, that an odd
traveller would fall in upon the way: so that before we had gone many
miles farther, the fatigue of the journey was much lessened by the
society of the pilgrims. These were now collected into little groups, of
from three to a dozen, each, with the exception of myself and one or
two others of a decenter cast, having the staff and bag. The chat and
anecdotes were, upon the whole, very amusing; but although there was a
great variety of feature, character, and costume among so many, as
must always be the case where people of different lives, habits, and
pursuits, are brought together; still I could perceive that there was a
shade of strange ruminating abstraction apparent on all. I could observe
the cheerful narrator relapse into a temporary gloom, or a fit of
desultory reflection, as some train of thought would suddenly rise
in his mind. I could sometimes perceive a shade of pain; perhaps of
anguish, darken the countenance of another, as if a bitter recollection
was awakened; yet this often changed, by an unexpected transition, to
a gleam of joy and satisfaction, as if a quick sense or hope of relief
flashed across his heart.
When we came near Petigo, the field for observation was much enlarged.
The road was then literally alive with pilgrims, and reminded me, as far
as numbers were concerned, of the multitudes that flocked to market on
a fair-day. Petigo is a snug little town, three or four miles from the
lake, where the pilgrims all sleep on the night before the commencement
of their stations. When we were about five or six miles from it, the
road presented a singular variety of grouping. There were men and
women of all ages, from the sprouting devotee of twelve, to the hoary,
tottering pilgrim of eighty, creeping along, bent over his staff, to
perform this soul-saving work, and die.
Such is the reverence in which this celebrated place is held, that as
we drew near it, I remarked the conversation to become slack; every face
put on an appearance of solemnity and thoughtfulness, and no man was
inclined to relish the conversation of his neighbor or to speak himself.
The very women were silent. Even the lassitude of the journey was
unfelt, and the unfledged pilgrim, as he looked up in his father's or
mother's face, would catch the serious and severe expression he saw
there, and trot silently on, forgetting that he was fatigued.
For my part, I felt the spirit of the scene strongly, yet, perhaps, not
with such an exclusive interest as others. I had not only awe, terror,
enthusiasm, pride, and devotion to manage, but suffered heavy annoyance
from the inroad of a villanous curiosity which should thrust itself
among the statelier feelings of the occasion, and set all attempts to
restrain it at defiance. It was a sad bar to my devotions, which,
but for its intrusion, I might have conducted with more meritorious.
steadiness. How, for instance, was it possible for me to register the
transgressions of my whole life, heading them under the “seven deadly
sins,” with such a prospect before me as the beautiful waters and shores
of Lough Erne?
Despite of all the solemnity about me, my unmanageable eye would turn
from the very blackest of the seven deadly offences, and the stoutest
of the four cardinal virtues, to the beetling, abrupt, and precipitous
rocks which hung over the lake as if ready to tumble into its waters. I
broke away, too, from several “acts of contrition” to conjecture
whether the dark, shadowy inequalities which terminated the horizon,
and penetrated, methought, into the very skies far beyond the lake, were
mountains or clouds: a dark problem, which to this day I have not been
able to solve. Nay, I was taken twice, despite of the most virtuous
efforts to the contrary, from a _Salve Regina_, to watch a little skiff,
which shone with its snowy sail spread before the radiant evening sun,
and glided over the waters, like an angel sent on some happy-message. In
fact, I found my heart on the point of corruption, by indulging in what
I had set down in my vocabulary as the lust of the eye, and had some
faint surmise that I was plunging into obduracy. I accordingly made a
private mark with the nail of my thumb, on the “act of contrition” in my
prayer-book, and another on the _Salve Regina_, that I might remember
to confess for these devilish wanderings. But what all my personal piety
could not effect, a lucky turn in the road accomplished, by bringing me
from the view of the lake; and thus ended my temptations and my defeats
on these points.
When we got into Petigo, we found the lodging-houses considerably
crowded. I contrived, however, to establish myself as well as another,
and in consequence of my black, dress and the garrulous industry of my
epicene companion, who stuck close to me all along, was treated with
more than common respect. And here I was deeply impressed with the
remarkable contour of many visages, which I had now a better opportunity
of examining than while on the road. There seemed every description of
guilt, and every degree of religious feeling, mingled together in the
same mass, and all more or less subdued by the same principle of abrupt
and gloomy abstraction.
There was a little man dressed in a turned black coat, and drab
cassimere small-clothes, who struck me as a remarkable figure; his back
was long, his legs and thighs short and he walked on the edge of his
feet. He had a pale, sorrowful face, with bags hung under his eyes,
drooping eyelids, no beard, no brows, and no chin; for in the place of
the two latter, there was a slight frown where the brows ought to have
been, and a curve in the place of the chin, merely perceptible from the
bottom of his underlip to his throat. He wore his own hair, which was a
light bay, so that you could scarcely distinguish it from a wig. I was
given to understand that he was a religious tailor under three blessed
orders.
There was another round-shouldered man, with black, twinkling eyes,
plump face, rosy cheeks, and nose twisted at the top. In his character,
humor appeared to be the predominant principle. He was evidently an
original, and, I am sure, had the knack of turning the ludicrous side
of every object towards him. His eye would roll about from one person to
another while fingering his beads, with an expression of humor something
like delight beaming from his fixed, steady countenance; and when
anything that would have been particularly worthy of a joke met his
glance, I could perceive a tremulous twinkle of the eye intimating his
inward enjoyment. I think still this jocular abstinence was to him the
severest part of the pilgrimage. I asked him was he ever at the “Island”
before; he peered into my face with a look that infected me with
risibility, without knowing why, shrugged up his shoulders, looked into
the fire, and said “No,” with a dry emphatic cough after it--as much as
to say, you may apply my answer to the future as well as to the past.
Religion, I thought, was giving him up, or sent him here as a last
resource. He spoke to nobody.
A little behind the humorist sat a very tall, thin, important-looking
personage, dressed in a shabby black coat; there was a cast of severity
and self-sufficiency in his face, which at once indicated him to be
a man of office and authority, little accustomed to have his own
will disputed. I was not wrong in my conjecture; he was a classical
schoolmaster, and was pompously occupied, when I first saw him,
reading through his spectacles, with his head raised aloft, the seven
Penitential Psalms in Latin, out of the Key of Paradise, to a circle
of women and children, along with two or three men in frieze coats, who
listened with profound attention.
A little to the right of Syntax, were a man and woman--the man engaged
in teaching the woman a Latin charm against the colic, to which it seems
she was subject. Although they all, for the most part, who were in the
large room about us, prayed aloud, yet by fastening the attention on any
particular person, you could hear what he said. I therefore heard, the
words of this charm, and as my memory is not bad, I still remember them;
they ran thus:
_Petrus sedebat super lapidem marmoreain juxta cedem Jerusalem et
dolebat, Jesus veniebat et rogabat “Petre, quid doles?” “Doleo vento
ventre.” “Surge, Petre, et sanus esto.” Et quicunque haec verba non
scripta sed memoriter tradita recitat nunquam dolebit vento ventre_.
These are the words literally, but I need not say, that had the poor
woman sat there since, she would not have got them impressed on her
memory.
There were also other countenances in which a man might almost read
the histories of their owners. Methought I could perceive the lurking,
unsubdued spirit of the battered rake, in the leer of his roving eye,
while he performed, in the teeth of his flesh, blood, and principles,
the delusive vow to which the shrinking spirit, at the approach of
death, on the bed of sickness, clung, as to its salvation; for it was
evident that superstition had only exacted from libertinism what fear
and ignorance had promised her.
I could note the selfish, griping miser, betraying his own soul, and
holding a false promise to his heart, as with lank jaw, keen eye, and
brow knit with anxiety for the safety of his absent wealth, he joined
some group, sager if possible to defraud them even of the benefit of
their prayers, and attempting to practise that knavery upon heaven which
had been so successful upon earth.
I could see the man of years, I thought, withering away under the
disconsolation of an ill-spent life, old without peace, and gray without
wisdom, flattering himself that he is religious because he prays,
and making a merit of offering to God that which Satan had rejected;
thinking, too, that he has withdrawn from sin, because the ability
of committing it has left him, and taking credit for subduing his
propensities, although they have only died in his nature.
I could mark, too, I fancied, the stiff, set features of the pharisee,
affecting to instruct others, that he might show his own superiority,
and descanting on the merits of works, that his hearers might know he
performed them himself.
I could also observe the sly, demure over-doings of the hypocrite, and
mark the deceitful lines of grave meditation running along that part
of his countenance where in others the front of honesty lies open and
expanded. I could trace him when he got beyond his depth, where the want
of sincerity in religion betrayed his ignorance of its forms. I could
note the scowling, sharp-visaged bigot, wrapt up in the nice observance
of trifles, correcting others, if the object of their supplications
embraced anything within a whole hemisphere of heresy, and not so much
happy because he thought himself the way of salvation, as because he
thought others out of it--a consideration which sent pleasure tingling
to his fingers' ends.
But notwithstanding all this, I noticed, through the gloom of the place,
many who were actuated by genuine, unaffected piety, from whom charity
and kindness beamed forth through all the disadvantages around them.
Such people, for the most part, prayed in silence and alone. Whenever
I saw a man or woman anxious to turn away their faces, and separate
themselves from the flocks of gregarious babblers, I seldom failed to
witness the outpouring of a contrite spirit. I have certainly seen, in
several instances, the tear of heartfelt repentance bedew the sinner's
cheek. I observed one peculiarly interesting female who struck me
very much. In personal beauty she was very lovely--her form perfectly
symmetrical, and she evidently belonged to rather a better order of
society. Her dress was plain, though her garments were by no means
common. She could scarcely be twenty, and yet her face told a tale of
sorrow, of deep, wasting, desolating sorrow. As the prayers, hymns, and
religious conversations which wont on, were peculiar to the place, time,
and occasion--it being near the hour of rest:--she probably did not
feel that reluctance in going to pray in presence of so many which she
otherwise would have felt. She kept her eye on a certain female who had
a remote dusky corner to pray in, and the moment she retired from it,
this young creature went up and there knelt down. But what a contrast to
the calm, unconscious, and insipid mummery which went on at the moment
through the whole room! Her prayer was short, and she had neither book
nor beads; but the heavings of her bosom, and her suppressed sobs,
sufficiently proclaimed her sincerity. Her petition, indeed, seemed to
go to heaven from a broken heart. When it was finished, she remained a
few moments on her knees, and dried her eyes with her handkerchief. As
she rose up, I could mark the modest, timid glance, and the slight
blush as she presented herself again amongst the company, where all were
strangers. I thought she appeared, though in the midst of such a number,
to be woefully and pitiably alone.
As for my own companion, she absolutely made the grand tour of all the
praying knots on the promises, having taken a very tolerable bout with
each. There were two qualities in which she shone preeminent--voice and
distinctness; for she gave by far the loudest and most monotonous chant.
Her visage also was remarkable, for her complexion resembled the dark,
dingy red of a winter apple. She had a pair of very piercing black eyes,
with which, while kneeling with her body thrown back upon her heels as
if they were a cushion, she scrutinized, at her ease, every one in the
room, rocking herself gently from side to side. The poor creature paid
a marked attention to the interesting young woman I have just mentioned.
At last, they dropped off one by one to bed, that they might be up early
the next morning for the Lough, with the exception of some half-dozen,
more long-winded than the rest whose voices I could hear at their sixth
rosary, in the rapid elevated tone peculiar to Catholic devotion, until
I fell asleep.