Father John O'Shaughnessy.
"Tomorrow will be Sabbath day," said the Clockmaker; "I guess we'll
bide where we be till Monday. I like a Sabbath in the country; all
natur' seems at rest. There's a cheerfulness in the day here, you
don't find in towns. You have natur' before you here, and nothin' but
art there. The deathy stillness of a town, and the barred windows,
and shut shops, and empty streets, and great long lines of big brick
buildin's look melancholy. It seems as if life had ceased tickin',
but there hadn't been time for decay to take hold on there; as if day
had broke, but man slept. I can't describe exactly what I mean, but I
always feel kinder gloomy and wamblecropt there.
"Now in the country it's jist what it ought to be--a day of rest for
man and beast from labour. When a man rises on the Sabbath, and looks
out on the sunny fields and wavin' crops, his heart feels proper
grateful, and he says, Come, this is a splendid day, ain't it? Let's
get ready and put on our bettermost close, and go to meetin'. His
first thought is prayerfully to render thanks; and then when he goes
to worship he meets all his neighbours, and he knows them all, and
they are glad to see each other, and if any two on 'em hain't exactly
gee'd together durin' the week, why they meet on kind of neutral
ground, and the minister or neighbours make peace atween them. But
it ain't so in towns. You don't know no one you meet there. It's
the worship of neighbours, but it's the worship of strangers, too,
for neighbours don't know nor care about each other. Yes, I love a
Sabbath in the country."
While uttering this soliloquy, he took up a pamphlet from the table,
and turning to the title page, said, "Have you ever seen this here
book on the 'Elder Controversy?' (a controversy on the subject of
Infant Baptism). This author's friends say it's a clincher; they say
he has sealed up Elder's mouth as tight as a bottle."
"No," said I, "I have not; I have heard of it, but never read it.
In my opinion the subject has been exhausted already, and admits of
nothing new being said upon it. These religious controversies are
a serious injury to the cause of true religion; they are deeply
deplored by the good and moderate men of all parties. It has already
embraced several denominations in the dispute in this Province, and
I hear the agitation has extended to New Brunswick, where it will
doubtless be renewed with equal zeal. I am told all the pamphlets are
exceptionable in point of temper, and this one in particular, which
not only ascribes the most unworthy motives to its antagonist, but
contains some very unjustifiable and gratuitous attacks upon other
sects unconnected with the dispute. The author has injured his own
cause, for an INTEMPERATE ADVOCATE IS MORE DANGEROUS THAN AN OPEN
FOE."
"There is no doubt on it," said the Clockmaker, "it is as clear as
mud, and you are not the only one that thinks so, I tell you. About
the hottest time of the dispute, I was to Halifax, and who should
I meet but Father John O'Shaughnessy, a Catholic Priest. I had met
him afore in Cape Breton, and had sold him a clock. Well, he was
a-leggin' it off hot foot. 'Possible!' says I, 'Father John, is that
you? Why, what on airth is the matter of you? What makes you in such
an everlastin' hurry, driven away like one ravin' distracted mad?' 'A
sick visit,' says he; 'poor Pat Lanigan--him that you mind to Bradore
Lake--well he's near about at the p'int of death.' 'I guess not,'
said I, 'for I jist heerd tell he was dead.' Well, that brought him
up all standin', and he 'bouts ship in a jiffy, and walks a little
way with me, and we got a-talkin' about this very subject. Says he,
'What are you, Mr. Slick?' Well, I looks up to him and winks--'A
Clockmaker,' says I. Well he smiled, and says he, 'I see;' as much
as to say I hadn't ought to have axed that 'ere question at all,
I guess, for every man's religion is his own, and nobody else's
business. 'Then,' says he, 'you know all about this country. Who
do folks say has the best of the dispute?' Says I, 'Father John,
it's like the battles up to Canada lines last war, each side claims
victory; I guess there ain't much to brag on nary way, damage done on
both sides, and nothin' gained, as far as I can learn.' He stopped
short, and looked me in the face, and says he, 'Mr. Slick you are a
man that has seed a good deal of the world, and a considerable of an
understandin' man, and I guess I can talk to you. Now,' says he, 'for
gracious sake do jist look here, and see how you heretics--protestants
I mean,' says he (for I guess that 'ere word slipped out without
leave), 'are by the ears, a-drivin' away at each other, the whole
blessed time, tooth and nail, hip and thigh, hammer and tongs,
disputin', revilin', wranglin', and beloutin' each other, with all
sorts of ugly names that they can lay their tongues to. Is that the
way you love your neighbour as yourself? WE SAY THIS IS A PRACTICAL
COMMENT ON SCHISM, and by the powers of Moll Kelly,' said he, 'but
they all ought to be well lambasted together, the whole batch on 'em
entirely.' Says I, 'Father John, give me your hand; there are some
things, I guess, you and I don't agree on, and most likely never will,
seein' that you are a Popish priest; but in that idee I do opinionate
with you, and I wish with all my heart all the world thought with us.'
"I guess he didn't half like that 'ere word Popish priest, it seemed
to grig him like; his face looked kinder riled, like well water arter
a heavy rain; and said he, 'Mr. Slick,' says he, 'your country is a
free country, ain't it?' 'The freest,' says I, 'on the face of the
airth--you can't "ditto" it nowhere. We are as free as the air, and
when our dander's up, stronger than any hurricane you ever seed--tear
up all creation 'most; there ain't the beat of it to be found
anywhere.' 'Do you call this a free country?' said he. 'Pretty
considerable middlin',' says I, 'seein' that they are under a king.'
'Well,' says he, 'if you were seen in Connecticut a-shakin' hands
along with a Popish priest, as you are pleased to call me' (and he
made me a bow, as much as to say mind your trumps the next deal), 'as
you now are in the streets of Halifax along with me, with all your
crackin' and boastin' of your freedom, I guess you wouldn't sell a
clock agin in that State for one while, I tell you;' and he bid me
good mornin' and turned away. 'Father John!' says I. 'I can't stop,'
says he; 'I must see that poor critter's family; they must be in
great trouble, and a sick visit is afore controvarsy in my creed.'
'Well,' says I, 'one word with you afore you go; if that 'ere name
Popish priest was an ongenteel one, I ax your pardon; I didn't mean
no offence, I do assure you, and I'll say this for your satisfaction,
tu; you're the first man in this Province that ever gave me a real
right down complete checkmate since I first sot foot in it, I'll be
skinned if you ain't.'
"Yes," said Mr. Slick, "Father John was right; these antagonizing
chaps ought to be well quilted, the whole raft of 'em. It fairly
makes me sick to see the folks, each on 'em a-backin' up of their
own man. 'At it agin!' says one; 'Fair play!' says another; 'Stick
it into him!' says a third; and 'That's your sort!' says a fourth.
Them are the folks who do mischief. They show such clear grit, it
fairly frightens me. It makes my hair stand right up on eend to see
ministers do that 'ere. IT APPEARS TO ME THAT I COULD WRITE A BOOK IN
FAVOUR OF MYSELF AND MY NOTIONS WITHOUT, WRITIN' AGIN ANY ONE, AND IF
I COULDN'T I WOULDN'T WRITE AT ALL, I SNORE. Our old minister, Mr.
Hopewell (a real good man, and a larned man too that), they sent to
him once to write agin the Unitarians, for they are a-goin' ahead
like statiee in New England, but he refused. Said he, 'Sam,' says he,
'when I first went to Cambridge, there was a boxer and wrastler came
there, and he beat every one wherever he went. Well, old Mr. Possit
was the Church of England parson at Charlestown, at the time, and a
terrible powerful man he was--a real sneezer, and as ACTIVE as a
weasel. Well, the boxer met him one day, a little way out of town,
a-takin' of his evenin' walk, and said he, "Parson," says he, "they
say you are a most a plaguy strong man and uncommon stiff too."
"Now," says he, "I never seed a man yet that was a match for me;
would you have any objection jist to let me be availed of your
strength here in a friendly way, by ourselves, where no soul would
be the wiser; if you will I'll keep dark about it, I swan." "Go your
way," said the Parson, "and tempt me not; you are a carnal-minded,
wicked man, and I take no pleasure in such vain idle sports." "Very
well," said the boxer; "now here I stand," says he, "in the path,
right slap afore you; if you pass round me, then I take it as a sign
that you are afeard on me, and if you keep the path, why then you
must first put me out--that's a fact." The Parson jist made a spring
forrard, and kitched him up as quick as wink, and throwed him right
over the fence whap on the broad of his back, and then walked on as
if nothin' had happened--as demure as you please, and lookin' as meek
as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Stop," said the boxer, as
soon as he picked himself up, "stop Parson," said he, "that's a good
man, and jist chuck over my horse too, will you, for I swan I believe
you could do one near about as easy as t'other. My!" said he, "if
that don't bang the bush; you are another guess chap from what I took
you to be, anyhow."
"'Now,' said Mr. Hopewell, says he, 'I won't write, but if ary a
Unitarian crosses my path, I'll jist over the fence with him in no
time, as the parson did the boxer; FOR WRITIN' ONLY AGGRAVATES YOUR
OPPONENTS, AND NEVER CONVINCES THEM. I NEVER SEED A CONVERT MADE BY
THAT WAY YET; BUT I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I HAVE SEED: A MAN SET HIS OWN
FLOCK A DOUBTIN' BY HIS OWN WRITIN'. YOU MAY HAPPIFY YOUR ENEMIES,
CANTANKERATE YOUR OPPONENTS, AND INJURE YOUR OWN CAUSE BY IT, BUT I
DEFY YOU TO SARVE IT. These writers,' said he, 'put me in mind of
that 'ere boxer's pupils. He would sometimes set two on 'em to spar;
well, they'd put on their gloves and begin, larfin' and jokin' all in
good humour. Presently one on 'em would put in a pretty hard blow;
well, t'other would return it in airnest. "Oh," says the other, "if
that's your play, off gloves and at it;" and sure enough, away would
fly their gloves, and at it they'd go tooth and nail.
"'No, Sam, the misfortin' is, we are all apt to think Scriptur'
intended for our neighbours, and not for ourselves. The poor all
think it made for the rich. "Look at that 'ere Dives," they say,
"what an all-fired scrape he got into by his avarice, with Lazarus;
and ain't it writ as plain as anything, that them folks will find it
as easy to go to heaven, as for a camel to go through the eye of a
needle?" Well, then, the rich think it all made for the poor--that
they shan't steal nor bear false witness, but shall be obedient to
them that's in authority. And as for them 'ere Unitarians,' and he
always got his dander up when he spoke of them, 'why there's no doin'
nothin' with them,' says he. 'When they get fairly stumped, and you
produce a text that they can't get over, nor get round, why they say
"It ain't in our varsion at all; that's an interpolation, it's an
invention of them 'ere everlastin' monks;" there's nothin' left for
you to do with them, but to sarve them as Parson Possit detailed the
boxer--lay right hold of 'em, and chuck 'em over the fence, even if
they were as big as all out doors. That's what our folks ought to
have done with 'em at first, pitched 'em clean out of the state, and
let 'em go down to Nova Scotia, or some such outlandish place, for
they ain't fit to live in no christian country at all.
"'Fightin' is no way to make converts; THE TRUE WAY IS TO WIN 'EM.
You may stop a man's mouth, Sam,' says he, 'by a-crammin' a book down
his throat, but you won't convince him. It's a fine thing to write
a book all covered over with Latin, and Greek, and Hebrew, like a
bridle that's real jam, all spangled with brass nails, but who knows
whether it's right or wrong? Why, not one in ten thousand. If I had
my religion to choose, and warn't able to judge for myself, I'll tell
you what I'd do: I'd just ask myself WHO LEADS THE BEST LIVES? Now,'
says he, 'Sam, I won't say who do, because it would look like vanity
to say it was the folks who hold to our platform, but I'll tell you
who don't. IT AIN'T THEM THAT MAKES THE GREATEST PROFESSIONS ALWAYS;
and mind what I tell you, Sam, when you go a-tradin' with your clocks
away down east to Nova Scotia, and them wild provinces, keep a bright
look out on them as cant too much, FOR A LONG FACE is plaguy apt to
COVER A LONG CONSCIENCE--that's a fact.'"