Book: Handy Andy, Vol. 2

S >> Samuel Lover >> Handy Andy, Vol. 2




But with all this intrinsic worth, he was, at the same time, a strange man
in exterior manners; for, with an abundance of real piety, he had an
abruptness of delivery and a strange way of mixing up an occasional remark
to his congregation in the midst of the celebration of the mass, which
might well startle a stranger; but this very want of formality made him
beloved by the people, and they would do ten times as much for Father Phil
as for Father Dominick.

On the Sunday in question, when Andy attended the chapel, Father Phil
intended delivering an address to his flock from the altar, urging them to
the necessity of bestirring themselves in the repairs of the chapel, which
was in a very dilapidated condition, and at one end let in the rain
through its worn-out thatch. A subscription was necessary; and to raise
this among a very impoverished people was no easy matter. The weather
happened to be unfavourable, which was most favourable to Father Phil's
purpose, for the rain dropped its arguments through the roof upon the
kneeling people below in the most convincing manner; and as they
endeavoured to get out of the wet, they pressed round the altar as much as
they could, for which they were reproved very smartly by his Reverence in
the very midst of the mass, and these interruptions occurred sometimes in
the most serious places, producing a ludicrous effect, of which the worthy
Father was quite unconscious in his great anxiety to make the people
repair the chapel.

A big woman was elbowing her way towards the rails of the altar, and
Father Phil, casting a sidelong glance at her, sent her to the right-
about, while he interrupted his appeal to Heaven to address her thus:--
_"Agnus Dei_--you'd better jump over the rails of the althar, I
think. Go along out o' that, there's plenty o' room in the chapel below
there."

Then he would turn to the altar, and proceed with the service, till
turning again to the congregation he perceived some fresh offender.

_"Orate, fratres!_--will you mind what I say to you and go along out
of that? there's room below there. Thrue for you, Mrs. Finn--it's a shame
for him to be thramplin' on you. Go along, Darby Casy, down there, and
kneel in the rain; it's a pity you haven't a dacent woman's cloak undher
you indeed!--_Orate, fratres!_"

Then would the service proceed again, and while he prayed in silence at
the altar, the shuffling of feet edging out of the rain would disturb him,
and casting a backward glance, he would say--

"I hear you there--can't you be quiet and not be disturbin' the mass, you
haythens?"

Again he proceeded in silence, till the crying of a child interrupted him.
He looked round quickly.

"You'd better kill the child, I think, thramplin' on him, Lavery. Go out
o' that--your conduct is scandalous--_Dominus vobiscum!_" Again he
turned to pray, and after some time he made an interval in the service to
address his congregation on the subject of the repairs, and produced a
paper containing the names of subscribers to that pious work who had
already contributed, by way of example to those who had not.

"Here it is," said Father Phil, "here it is, and no denying it--down in
black and white; but if they who give are down in black, how much blacker
are those who have not given at all!--but I hope they will be ashamed of
themselves when I howld up those to honour who have contributed to the
uphowlding of the house of God. And isn't it ashamed o' yourselves you
ought to be, to leave His house in such a condition--and doesn't it rain
a'most every Sunday, as if He wished to remind you of your duty? aren't
you wet to the skin a'most every Sunday? Oh, God is good to you! to put
you in mind of your duty, giving you such bitther cowlds that you are
coughing and sneezin' every Sunday to that degree that you can't hear the
blessed mass for a comfort and a benefit to you; and so you'll go on
sneezin' until you put a good thatch on the place, and prevent the
appearance of the evidence from Heaven against you every Sunday, which is
condemning you before your faces, and behind your backs too, for don't I
see this minit a strame o' wather that might turn a mill running down
Micky Mackavoy's back, between the collar of his coat and his shirt?"

Here a laugh ensued at the expense of Micky Mackavoy, who certainly
_was_ under a very heavy drip from the imperfect roof.

"And is it laughing you are, you haythens?" said Father Phil, reproving
the merriment which he himself had purposely created, _that he might
reprove it_. "Laughing is it you are--at your backslidings and
insensibility to the honour of God--laughing, because when you come here
to be _saved_ you are _lost_ intirely with the wet; and how, I
ask you, are my words of comfort to enter your hearts, when the rain is
pouring down your backs at the same time? Sure I have no chance of turning
your hearts while you are undher rain that might turn a mill--but once put
a good roof on the house, and I will inundate you with piety! Maybe it's
Father Dominick you would like to have coming among you, who would grind
your hearts to powdher with his heavy words." (Here a low murmur of
dissent ran through the throng.) "Ha! ha! so you wouldn't like it, I see.
Very well, very well--take care then, for if I find you insensible to my
moderate reproofs, you hard-hearted haythens--you malefacthors and cruel
persecuthors, that won't put your hands in your pockets, because your mild
and quiet poor fool of a pasthor has no tongue in his head!--I say your
mild, quiet, poor fool of a pasthor (for I know my own faults, partly, God
forgive me!), and I can't spake to you as you deserve, you hard-living
vagabones, that are as insensible to your duties as you are to the
weather. I wish it was sugar or salt you were made of, and then the rain
might melt you if I couldn't: but no--them naked rafthers grin in your
face to no purpose--you chate the house of God; but take care, maybe you
won't chate the divil so aisy"--(here there was a sensation). "Ha! ha!
that makes you open your ears, does it? More shame for you; you ought to
despise that dirty enemy of man, and depend on something betther--but I
see I must call you to a sense of your situation with the bottomless pit
undher you, and no roof over you. Oh dear! dear! dear!--I'm ashamed of
you--troth, if I had time and sthraw enough, I'd rather thatch the place
myself than lose my time talking to you; sure the place is more like a
stable than a chapel. Oh, think of that!--the house of God to be like a
stable!--for though our Redeemer, in his humility, was born in a stable,
that is no reason why you are to keep his house always like one.

"And now I will read you the list of subscribers, and it will make you
ashamed when you hear the names of several good and worthy Protestants in
the parish, and out of it, too, who have given more than the Catholics."

He then proceeded to read the following list, which he interlarded
copiously with observations of his own; making _viva voce_ marginal
notes as it were upon the subscribers, which were not unfrequently
answered by the persons so noticed, from the body of the chapel, and
laughter was often the consequence of these rejoinders, which Father Phil
never permitted to pass without a retort. Nor must all this be considered
in the least irreverent. A certain period is allowed between two
particular portions of the mass, when the priest may address his
congregation on any public matter: an approaching pattern, or fair, or the
like; in which, exhortations to propriety of conduct, or warnings against
faction fights, &c., are his themes. Then they only listen in reverence.
But when a subscription for such an object as that already mentioned is
under discussion, the flock consider themselves entitled to "put in a
word" in case of necessity.

This preliminary hint is given to the reader, that he may better enter
into the spirit of Father Phil's

SUBSCRIPTION LIST
FOR THE REPAIRS AND ENLARGEMENT OF BALLY-SLOUGHGUTPHERY CHAPEL

L s. d. PHILIP BLAKE, P.P.
Micky Hicky 0 7 6 "He might as well have made ten
shillings: but half a loaf is betther
than no bread."

"Plase your reverence," says
Mick, from the body of the chapel,
"sure seven and six-pence is more
than the half of ten shillings."
(_A laugh_.)

"Oh! how witty you are. 'Faith,
if you knew your duty as well as
your arithmetic, it would be betther
for you, Micky."

Here the Father turned the laugh
against Mick.

L s. d.
Bill Riley 0 3 4 "Of course he means to subscribe
again.

L s. d.
John Dwyer 0 15 0 "That's something like! I'll
be bound he's only keeping back
the odd five shillings for a brush
full o' paint for the althar; it's as
black as a crow, instead o' being as
white as a dove."

He then hurried over rapidly some
small subscribers as follows:--

Peter Heffernan 0 1 8
James Murphy 0 2 6
Mat Donovan 0 1 3
Luke Dannely 0 3 0
Jack Quigly 0 2 1
Pat Finnegan 0 2 2
Edward O'Connor, Esq. 2 0 0 "There's for you! Edward
O'Connor, Esq., _a Protestant in the
parish_--Two pounds!"

"Long life to him," cried a voice
in the chapel.

"Amen," said Father Phil; "I'm
not ashamed to be clerk to so good
a prayer.

Nicholas Fagan 0 2 6
Young Nicholas Fagan 0 5 0 "Young Nick is better than owld
Nick, you see."

The congregation honoured the
Father's demand on their risibility.

L s. d.
Tim Doyle 0 7 6
Owny Doyl 1 0 0 "Well done, Owny na Coppal--you
deserve to prosper for you
make good use of your thrivings.

L s. d.
Simon Leary 0 2 6
Bridget Murphy 0 10 0 "You ought to be ashamed o'
yourself, Simon: a lone widow
woman gives more than you."

Simon answered, "I have a large
family, sir, and she has no childhre."

"That's not her fault," said the
priest--"and maybe she'll mend o'
that yet." This excited much
merriment, for the widow was buxom,
and had recently buried an old
husband, and, by all accounts, was
cocking her cap at a handsome young
fellow in the parish.

L s. d.
Judy Moylan 0 5 0 Very good, Judy; the women are
behaving like gentlemen; they'll
have their reward in the next world.

Pat Finnerty 0 3 4 "I'm not sure if it is 8s. 4d. or
3s. 4d., for the figure is blotted--
but I believe it is 8s. 4d."

"It was three and four pince
I gave your reverence," said Pat
from the crowd.

"Well, Pat, as I said eight and
four pence you must not let me go
back o' my word, so bring me five
shillings next week."

"Sure you wouldn't have me pay
for a blot, sir?"

"Yes, I would--that's the rule
of back-mannon, you know, Pat.
When I hit the blot, you pay
for it."

Here his reverence turned round,
as if looking for some one, and
called out, "Rafferty! Rafferty!
Rafferty! Where are you, Rafferty?"

An old grey-headed man appeared,
bearing a large plate, and Father
Phil continued--

"There now, be active--I'm
sending him among you, good people,
and such as cannot give as
much as you would like to be read
before your neighbours, give what
little you can towards the repairs,
and I will continue to read out the
names by way of encouragement to
you, and the next name I see is
that of Squire Egan. Long life to
him!
L s. d.
Squire Egan 5 0 0 "Squire Egan--five pounds--
listen to that--five pounds--a
Protestant in the parish--five
pounds! 'Faith, the Protestants will
make you ashamed of yourselves, if
we don't take care.
L s. d.
Mrs. Flanagan 2 0 0 "Not her own parish, either--a
kind lady.

L s. d.
James Milligan
of Roundtown 1 0 0 "And here I must remark that
the people of Roundtown have not
been backward in coming forward
on this occasion. I have a long list
from Roundtown--I will read it
separate." He then proceeded at a
great pace, jumbling the town and
the pounds and the people in a most
extraordinary manner: "James
Milligan of Roundtown, one pound;
Darby Daly of Roundtown, one
pound; Sam Finnigan of Roundtown,
one pound; James Casey of
Roundpound, one town; Kit Dwyer
of Townpound, one round--pound
I mane; Pat Roundpound--Pounden,
I mane--Pat Pounden a pound
of Poundtown also--there's an
example for you!--but what are you
about, Rafferty? _I don't like the
sound of that plate of yours_;--
you are not a good gleaner--go up
first into the gallery there, where I
see so many good-looking bonnets--I
suppose they will give something to
keep their bonnets out of the rain,
for the wet will be into the gallery
next Sunday if they don't. I think
that is Kitty Crow I see, getting her
bit of silver ready; them ribbons of
yours cost a trifle, Kitty. Well,
good Christians, here is more of the
subscription for you.
L s. d.
Matthew Lavery 0 2 6 "_He_ doesn't belong to
Roundtown--Roundtown will be renowned
in future ages for the support
of the Church. Mark my
words--Roundtown will prosper
from this day out--Roundtown
will be a rising place.

Mark Hennessy 0 2 6
Luke Clancy 0 2 6
John Doolin 0 2 6 "One would think they all agreed
only to give two and sixpence apiece.
And they comfortable men, too!
And look at their names--Matthew,
Mark, Luke, and John, the
names of the Blessed Evangelists,
and only ten shillings among them!
Oh, they are apostles not worthy of
the name--we'll call them the _Poor
Apostles_ from this out" (here a
low laugh ran through the chapel)--
"Do you hear that, Matthew, Mark,
Luke, and John? 'Faith! I can tell
you that name will stick to you.'"
(Here the laugh was louder.)

A voice, when the laugh subsided,
exclaimed, "I'll make it ten
shillin's, your reverence."

"Who's that?" said Father Phil.

"Hennessy, your reverence."

"Very well, Mark. I suppose
Matthew, Luke, and John will follow
your example?"

"We will, your reverence."

"Ah! I thought you made a mistake;
we'll call you now the _Faithful
Apostles_--and I think the change
in the name is better than seven
and sixpence apiece to you.

"I see you in the gallery there,
Rafferty. What do you pass that
well-dressed woman for?--thry back
--ha!--see that--she had her money
ready if you only asked for it--don't
go by that other woman
there--oh, oh!--So you won't give
anything, ma'am. You ought to be
ashamed of yourself. There is a
woman with an elegant sthraw bonnet,
and she won't give a farthing.
Well now--afther that--remember--I
give it from the althar, that
_from this day out sthraw bonnets
pay fi'penny pieces._

L s. d.
Thomas Durfy, Esq. 1 0 0 "It's not his parish and he's a
brave gentleman.

L s. d.
Miss Fanny Dawson 1 0 0 "_A Protestant out of the parish_,
and a sweet young lady, God bless
her! Oh, 'faith, the Protestants is
shaming you!!!

L s. d.
Dennis Fannin 0 7 6 "Very good, indeed, for a working
mason."

Jemmy Riley 0 5 0 "Not bad for a hedge-carpenther."

"I gave you ten, plaze, your reverence," shouted Jemmy, "and by the same
token, you may remember it was on the Nativity of the Blessed Vargin, sir,
I gave you the second five shillin's."

"So you did, Jemmy," cried Father Phil--"I put a little cross before it,
to remind me of it; but I was in a hurry to make a sick call when you gave
it to me, and forgot it after: and indeed myself doesn't know what I did
with that same five shillings."

Here a pallid woman, who was kneeling near the rails of the altar, uttered
an impassioned blessing, and exclaimed, "Oh, that was the very five
shillings, I'm sure, you gave to me that very day, to buy some little
comforts for my poor husband, who was dying in the fever!"--and the poor
woman burst into loud sobs as she spoke.

A deep thrill of emotion ran through the flock as this accidental proof of
their poor pastor's beneficence burst upon them; and as an affectionate
murmur began to rise above the silence which that emotion produced, the
burly Father Philip blushed like a girl at this publication of his
charity, and even at the foot of that altar where he stood, felt something
like shame in being discovered in the commission of that virtue so highly
commended by the Holy One to whose worship the altar was raised. He
uttered a hasty "Whisht--whisht!" and waved with his outstretched hands
his flock into silence.

In an instant one of those sudden changes common to an Irish assembly, and
scarcely credible to a stranger, took place. The multitude was hushed--the
grotesque of the subscription list had passed away and was forgotten, and
that same man and that same multitude stood in altered relations--
_they_ were again a reverent flock, and _he_ once more a solemn
pastor; the natural play of his nation's mirthful sarcasm was absorbed in
a moment in the sacredness of his office; and with a solemnity befitting
the highest occasion, he placed his hands together before his breast, and
raising his eyes to Heaven he poured forth his sweet voice, with a tone of
the deepest devotion, in that reverential call to prayer, "_Orate_,
_fratres_."

The sound of a multitude gently kneeling down followed, like the soft
breaking of a quiet sea on a sandy beach; and when Father Philip turned to
the altar to pray, his pent-up feelings found vent in tears; and while he
prayed, he wept.

I believe such scenes as this are not of unfrequent occurrence in Ireland;
that country so long-suffering, so much maligned, and so little
understood.

Suppose the foregoing scene to have been only described antecedent to the
woman in the outbreak of her gratitude revealing the priest's charity,
from which he recoiled,--suppose the mirthfulness of the incidents arising
from reading the subscription-list--a mirthfulness bordering on the
ludicrous--to have been recorded, and nothing more, a stranger would be
inclined to believe, and pardonable in the belief, that the Irish and
their priesthood were rather prone to be irreverent; but observe, under
this exterior, the deep sources of feeling that lie hidden and wait but
the wand of divination to be revealed. In a thousand similar ways are the
actions and the motives of the Irish understood by those who are careless
of them; or worse, misrepresented by those whose interest, and too often
_business_, it is to malign them.

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