My New Curate Part 45

"I hope so," I said resignedly. "Everything else that you have touched you have adorned. This will follow suit."

"Thank you, sir," he said. "It will be a glorious day for the children."

"By the way," I said, as he was going, "was Duff at the sermon?"

"He was, poor fellow; and I am afraid he got a wigging from the bishop.

At least they were walking up and down there near the sacristy for at least half an hour before dinner. You know Duff is an awfully clever fellow. He has written some articles in the leading English magazines, in which, curiously enough, he quite agrees with Professor Sayce, the eminent a.s.syriologist, who has tried to disprove the theories about the Pentateuch originated by Graf and Wellhausen--"

"My dear fellow, this is not a conference. Spare my old nerves all that nonsense. The Bible is G.o.d's own Word--that is enough for me. But what about Duff?"

"Well, at table, the bishop was specially and expressly kind to him, and drew him out about all these matters, and made him shine; and you know how well Duff can talk--"

"I wouldn't doubt the bishop," I said; "he always does the kind and the right thing."

"By the way, I forgot a moment ago to say that Duff met me this morning at the station, and said, I am sure with perfect sincerity: 'Letheby, I must congratulate you. You taught me a sharp lesson the other day; you taught me a gentler lesson last evening. Pray for me that I may keep farther away from human will-o'-the-wisps, and nearer the Eternal Light than I have been.' I shook his hand warmly. _Sedes sapientiae, ora pro n.o.bis_."

"Amen!" I said humbly.

"I've asked him over to dine on the day our fishing-boat will be launched," said Father Letheby, after a pause. "Some of the brethren are coming; and you'll come, sir? Duff is very anxious to meet you."

"Of course," I replied. "I never refuse so delightful an invitation. But why should Duff be anxious to meet me?"

"I really don't know, except that you are, as you know yourself, sir, a celebrity. He thinks a great deal of you."

"Probably a great deal more than I am disposed to think of myself. Did he say so?"

"Oh, dear, yes! He said: 'I must make the acquaintance of that pastor of yours, Letheby, he's an _immortal genius_!'"

"An immortal genius! Well, you must know, my innocent young man, that that expression is susceptible of a double interpretation--it may mean an immortal fame like William Shakespeare's, or an immortal fame like Jack Falstaff's; it may mean a Cervantes, or a Don Quixote, a fool who has eclipsed the name of his Creator. But, as I am charitably inclined, I shall give your learned friend the benefit of the doubt, and meet him as one of my many admirers, rather than as one of my few critics.

Perhaps he may change his opinion of me, for better, for worse, on a closer acquaintance."

"I'm quite sure, sir, that there will be a mutual appreciation. That's arranged, then--the procession on Corpus Christi, and dinner the day of our launch."

CHAPTER XXVI

AT THE ZENITH

For one reason or another, the great events to which our little history is tending were deferred again and again, until at last the Monday within the Octave of Corpus Christi was chosen for the marriage of Bittra Campion and the launch of the great fishing-boat, that was to bring untold wealth to Kilronan. Meanwhile our faculties were not permitted to rust, for we had a glorious procession on the great _Fete-Dieu_, organized, of course, and carried on to complete success by the zeal and inventive piety of my young curate. My own timidity, and dread of offending Protestant susceptibilities--a timidity, I suppose, inherited from the penal days--would have limited that procession to the narrow confines of the chapel yard; but the larger and more trusting faith of Father Letheby leaped over such restrictions, and the procession wound through the little village, down to the sheer cliffs that overhang the sea, along the narrow footpath that cuts the turf on the summit of the rocks, around the old mill, now the new factory, and back by the main road skirting the bog and meadowland, to the village church again. It would be quite useless to inquire how or where Father Letheby managed to get those silken banners, and that glittering processional cross, or the gorgeous canopy. I, who share with the majority of my countrymen the national contempt for minutiae and mere details, would have at once dogmatically declared the impossibility of securing such beautiful things in such a pre-Adamite, out-of-the-way village as Kilronan. But Father Letheby, who knows no such word as impossibility, in some quiet way--the legerdemain of a strong character--contrives to bring these unimaginable things out of the region of conjecture into the realms of fact; and I can only stare and wonder. But the whole thing was a great and unexampled success; and, whilst my own heart was swelling under the influence of the sweet hymns of the children, and the golden radiance of June sunlight, and the sparkling of the sea, and the thought that I held the Lord and Master of all between my hands, my fancy would go back to that wondrous lake on whose waters the Lord did walk, and from whose sh.o.r.es He selected the future teachers of the world. The lake calm in the sunlight, the fish gleaming in the nets, the half-naked Apostles bending over the gunwales of their boats to drag in the nets, the stately, grave figure of our Lord, the wondering women who gazed on Him afar off with fear and love--all came up before my fancy, that only came back to reality when I touched the shoulders of Reginald Ormsby and the doctor, who, with two rough fishermen, belonging to the Third Order of St. Francis, held the gilded poles of the canopy. They manifested great piety and love and reverence all the way. Ormsby had brought over all his coast-guards except the two that were on duty at the station, and they formed a n.o.ble guard of honor around the canopy; and it was difficult to say which was the more beautiful and picturesque--the demonstrative love of the peasant women, who flung up their hands in a paroxysm of devotion, whilst they murmured in the soft Gaelic: "Ten thousand, thousand thanks to you, _O white and ruddy Saviour_!" or the calm, deep, silent tenderness of these rough men, whose faces were red and tanned and bronzed from the action of sun and sea. And the little children, who were not in the procession, peeped out shyly from beneath their mothers'

cloaks, and their round, wondering eyes rested on the white Host, who in His undying words had once said: "Suffer little children to come unto me!" Let no one say that our poor Irish do not grasp the meaning of this central mystery of our faith! It is true that their senses are touched by more visible things; but whoever understands our people will agree with me that no great theologian in his study, no philosopher in his rostrum, no sacred nun in her choir, realizes more distinctly the awful meaning of that continued miracle of love and mercy that is enshrined on our altars, and named _Emmanuel_.

But all things come around, sooner or later, in their destined courses, and Monday dawned, fair and sunny and beautiful, as befitted the events that were to take place. There was a light summer haze on sea and land; and just a ripple of a breeze blown down as a message from the inhospitable hills. Father Letheby said early Ma.s.s at eight o'clock; and at half-past nine, the hour for the nuptial Ma.s.s, there was no standing or sitting-room in the little chapel. Of course, the front seats were reserved for the gentry, who, in spite of an academical dislike to Ormsby's conversion, gathered to witness this Catholic marriage, as a rare thing in Ireland, at least amongst their own cla.s.s. But behind them, and I should say in unpleasant proximity (for the peasantry do not carry handkerchiefs scented with White Rose or Jockey Club,--only the odor of the peat and the bogwood), surged a vast crowd of men and women, on whose lips and in whose hearts was a prayer for her who was entering on the momentous change in her sweet and tranquil life. And young Patsies and w.i.l.l.i.e.s and Jameses were locked by their legs around their brothers' necks, and trying to keep down and economize for further use that Irish cheer or yell, that from Dargai to Mandalay is well known as the war-whoop of the race invincible. I presume that I was an object of curiosity myself, as I awaited in alb and stole the coming of the bridal party. Then the curiosity pa.s.sed on to Ormsby, who, accompanied by Dr.

Armstrong, stood erect and stately before the altar-rails; then, of course, to the bride, who, accompanied by her father, and followed by a bevy of fair children, drew down a rose-shower of benedictions from the enthusiastic congregation. Did it rest there? Alas, no! Bridegroom and bride, parish priest and curate, were blotted out of the interested vision of the spectators; and, concentrated with absorbing fascination, the hundreds of eyes rested on the snowy cap and the spotless streamers of Mrs. Darcy. It was the great event of the day--the culmination of civilization in Kilronan! Wagers had been won and lost over it; one or two pitched battles had been fought with pewter weapons at Mrs. Haley's; ballads had been written on it in the style, but not quite in the polished lines, of "Henry of Navarre"; and now, there it was, the "white plume" of victory, the cynosure of hundreds of wondering eyes. I dare say the "upper ten" did not mind it; they were used to such things; but everything else paled into insignificance to the critical and censorious audience behind them.

"Didn't I tell you she'd do it?"

"Begor, you did. I suppose I must stand the thrate."

"Father Letheby cud do anything whin he cud do that."

"Begor, I suppose she'll be thinkin' of marryin' herself now, and Jem hardly cowld in the clay."

"Yerra, look at her! She thinks she's wan of the gintry. Oh my! she's blushin'. 'T wasn't so long ago that you could sow praties in her face."

"I suppose thim cost a lot of money. But, shure, it was the priests give 'em to her."

"Wisha, thin, there's many a poor creature that would want the money more."

Now, all this was not only sarcastic, but calumnious. The cap and streamers were Mrs. Darcy's own, bought out of her hard earnings, and donned to-day to honor the nuptials of her idol and benefactress. She knew the mighty ordeal that was in store for her; but she faced it, and thanked G.o.d she was "not behoulden to wan of thim for what she put into her mout' and upon her back." And she stood there at the altar-rails, erect and defiant, and there was not a tremor in the hand that held the holy-water vase, nor in the hand that held the aspergill.

But it was very embarra.s.sing to myself. I am not disposed to be nervous, for I have always conscientiously avoided tea and too much study, and I have lived in the open air, and always managed to secure eight hours of dreamless, honest sleep; but I was "discomposed," as some one charitably explained it that morning; and Mrs. Darcy's cap was the cause. I couldn't take my eyes away from it. There it was, dancing like a will-o'-the-wisp before my dazzled vision. I turned my back deliberately upon it, and lo! there it was in miniature in the convex arc of my spectacles; and if I looked up, there was my grinning congregation, and their half-audible remarks upon this dread and unwonted apparition. At last I commenced:

"Reginald Darcy, wilt thou take Bittra Ormsby here present--"

A forcible reminder from Father Letheby brought me to my senses; but away they scattered again, as I heard Campion muttering something uncomplimentary under his black mustache.

"Ahem!--Reginald Ormsby, wilt thou take Mrs. Darcy--"

Here Father Letheby nudged me again, and looked at me suspiciously. I got a sudden and violent paroxysm of coughing, a remnant of an old bronchial attack to which I am very subject. But I managed to say:--

"For the love of G.o.d, send that woman into the sacristy."

She covered her retreat n.o.bly, made a curtsey to the priests, genuflected calmly, laid down the aspergill, and, under pretence of having been sent for something which these careless priests had forgotten, retired with honors; and then I suppose had a good long cry.

But poor Bittra was blushing furiously; Ormsby was calm as on the quarterdeck; but Dr. Armstrong was pulling at his mustache, as if determined to show the world that there was no use any more for razors or depilatories; and Miss Leslie had bitten right through her under lip, and was threatened with apoplexy. We got through the rest of the ceremony with flying colors: and the moment I said, _In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti_, the hush of death fell on the congregation. Then the nuptial blessing was given, the choir threw all their vocal strength into the grand _finale_; the registers were signed; Campion kissed his beloved child, and shook hands with Ormsby; and then commenced the triumphal march. I forgot to say that for the glorious procession on the Thursday before the village was _en fete_. Great arcades of laurel were stretched from chimney to chimney, because there were no upper rooms in the cabins; the posts and lintels of the humble doors were covered with foliage and flowers; and the windows were decorated with all the pious images that had been acc.u.mulating in the cabins for generations. Little _eikons_ of the Sacred Heart, gorgeous statues of our Lady of Lourdes, colored prints of Leo XIII., and crucifixes without number dappled the dark background of the windows,--and all the splendor was allowed to remain untouched during the octave. And glad they were, poor people, to show their love for their young idol and mistress, even with the decorations of their Lord and King. But what a shout tore open the heavens as Bittra appeared, leaning on her husband's arm; and what prayers echoed round and round them, as Ormsby handed Bittra into the victoria that was waiting! No genteel showers of rice, no casting of slippers nor waving of jealous handkerchiefs here, but--

"Come down out o' dat, you grinning monkey," and the gorgeous coachman was hauled down ignominiously, and a score of strong arms replaced the panting horses under the bridal carriage. And so it moved on, this bridal procession, amidst a strange _epithalamium_ of cheering and blessings, whilst rough hands from time to time grasped the strong fingers of the smiling bridegroom or the tiny gloved hand of the bride.

Ay, move down the valley of life together, you two, linked hand-in-hand, having said your farewells to the world, for you are entering on a new and altogether consecrated life. No wonder that the Church insists on the sacramental nature of this stupendous compact between two human souls; no wonder that the world, anxious to break its indissolubility, denies its awful sacredness; no wonder that the Catholic girl enters beneath the archway of the priest's stole[6] with the fear of great joy, and that the Catholic bridegroom is unnerved with dread at undertaking the responsibilities of a little universe.

We had a little chat over this matter, my curate and I, the evening before Bittra's marriage. It came around quite naturally, for we had been debating all kinds of possibilities as to the future; and he had been inveighing, in his own tumultuous manner, against the new and sacrilegious ideas that are just now being preached by the modern apostles of free thought in novel and journal. We agreed in thinking that the Christian ideal of marriage was nowhere so happily realized as in Ireland, where, at least up to recent times, there was no lurid and volcanic company-keeping before marriage, and no bitter ashes of disappointment after; but the good mother quietly said to her child: "Mary, go to confession to-morrow, and get out your Sunday dress. You are to be married on Thursday evening." And Mary said: "Very well, mother," not even a.s.serting a faintest right to know the name of her future spouse. But, then, by virtue of the great sacramental union, she stepped from the position of a child and a dependent into the regal position of queen and mistress on her own hearth. The entire authority of the household pa.s.sed thereby into her hands, as she slung the keys at her girdle; she became bursar and _econome_ of the establishment; and in no instance was her right to rule supreme ever questioned by husband or child, unless drink came in to destroy this paradise, as the serpent fouled with his slime the flowers of the garden of Eden. Married life in Ireland has been, up to now, the most splendid refutation of all that the world and its gospel, the novel, preach about marriage, and the most splendid and complete justification of the supernaturalism of the Church's dogmas and practices. But, reverting to the new phases in the ever-shifting emotionalism of a G.o.dless world, with which marriage has become a question of barter--a mere lot-drawing of lambs for the shambles--he compared the happy queenly life of our Irish mother with that of the victim of fashion, or that of uncatholic lands, where a poor girl pa.s.ses from one state of slavery to another.

"I hope," he said, "that we never shall be able to compare Bittra, like so many other brides, to the sleeping child that Carafola has painted, with an angel holding over it a crown of thorns, and whom marriage, like the angel, would awake by pressing the thorns on her brow."

"G.o.d forbid!" I said fervently. How little I dreamed of the troubles that were looming up out of the immediate future to shroud her marriage sunshine in awful gloom!

As the marriage procession pa.s.sed the door where Alice lived, Bittra gave a little timid, imperious command to her admirers to stop. She and Ormsby alighted and pa.s.sed into the cottage. The orange blossoms touched the crown of thorns on the head of the sick girl; but, somehow, both felt that there was need of a sisterhood of suffering on the one part to knit their souls together. Ormsby remained in the kitchen, talking to Mrs. Moylan; and from that day forward she was secured, at least, from all dread of dependence or poverty forevermore.

At the breakfast table it was, of course, my privilege to propose the health of the bride and bridegroom, which I most gladly did; and, let me say, so successfully as to bring back unwonted smiles to Campion's face, who now freely forgave me for the _gaucheries_ at the marriage service.

Then the guests strolled around, looking at the marriage presents--the usual filigree and useless things that are flung at the poor bride.

Bittra took me into a little boudoir of her own to show me her _real_ presents.

"Father," she said, "who is a great artist, wanted me to give back all this rubbish, as he calls it; but I would much rather sacrifice all that _bijouterie_ outside." And she exhibited with glistening eyes the bridal offerings of the poor fisherwomen and country folk of Kilronan. They were fearfully and wonderfully made. Here was a magnificent three-decker battleship, complete from pennant to bowsprit, every rope in its place, and the bra.s.s muzzles of its gun protruded for action. Here was a pretty portrait of Bittra herself, painted by a j.a.panese artist from a photograph, surrept.i.tiously obtained, and which had been sent 15,000 miles across the ocean for an enlarged replica. Here were sh.e.l.ls of all sizes and fantastic forms, gathered during generations, from the vast museums of the deep. Here was a ma.s.sive gold ring, with a superb ruby, picked up, the Lord knows how, by a young sailor in the East Indian Islands. Here, screaming like a fury, was a paroquet, gorgeous as a rainbow, but ill-conducted as a monkey; and here was a gauze shawl, so fine that Bittra hid it in her little palm, and whispered that it was of untold price.

"But, of course, I cannot keep all these treasures," she said; "I shall hold them as a loan for a while; and then, under one pretext or another, return them. It is what they indicate that I value."

"And I think, my little child," I said, "that if you had them reduplicated until they would fill one wing of the British Museum, they would hardly be an exponent of all that these poor people think and feel."