Are you Aurora or the goddess Flora?
Or are you Venus or the morning sun? &c.
‘Poor Phil. Sullivan is now no more, and those who once composed his school are dispersed to the four quarters of the globe—a new parish school-house is built, but few attend it, in consequence of some attempt made to interfere with the belief of the children.’
When we left the school-house, we were met by a sedate-looking old gentleman, who saluted us as he passed. ‘That,’ said Eugene, ‘is Father ——, our parish priest, a good and upright man; but eccentric in his manners, and more so in his preaching—that the latter is affected for the purpose of accommodating himself to the comprehension of his hearers, I believe, for he is a man of learning, and shines in conversation, when in company with people who understand him; but if you heard him from the pulpit, I doubt much whether you would be able to refrain from laughing.
‘When the congregation are all composed, with their eyes fixed on him, he begins: “There you are all of ye, looking demure and mim-mouthed, like as many saints, as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouths. Who would think, now, that half-an-hour ago you were busy scandalizing one another, making your remarks on this one’s dress, and that one’s face, while more of ye were bargaining about your pratas and corn; and this is all done when you come here on the pretence of hearing the word of God on the Lord’s-day; but what do you do on the week-days?—why, you curse, and swear, and tell lies, and drink, and fight; and worse than all that, you go scheming about at night, doing mischief to every one that doesn’t please you; and after doing all this, you’ll come to me, hanging a lip like a motherless foal, and a whine in your face, to make your confession, and get absolution for your sins. But how can I give you absolution? people that never think of God, only when the devil’s at their elbow—And when I refuse ye, ye fall to blubbering, and say, O Father —— dear! hear me; what will I do, if you don’t hear me? And what answer can I make ye, only that you’ll go to hell and be damned—and indeed it’s as true as I say it, if you don’t mend your manners, that will be the end of ye. So I would advise you to mind what you’re about, and don’t forget that there’s One above ye, that’s taking note of all your misdeeds. I am sure you know yourselves there’s no pleasure in the world in doing what’s wrong, and you all know how contented you feel when you do what’s right. Then take my advice, and ‘make your souls’ without any delay, for the Lord knows which of you may be alive to see next Sunday.”
‘That is but a very imperfect specimen of his powers; for, in this rude style, he is a most merciless dissector of the human heart, and his hearers often wonder how he attains a knowledge of their most secret failings, even when they are not regular in their duty. Rude, however, as his oratory is, at times it is very impressive, and I have often seen his audience in tears. He possesses a strong influence over his flock, and I have frequently seen him plunge into the midst of an hundred fellows who were fighting with sticks, and with his horse-whip disperse the whole of them.
‘There is a very unjust prejudice raised against our clergymen, from the supposition that they encourage or abet the disturbances that agitate this country. Nothing can be more unjust: they not only denounce and excommunicate all concerned in them, from the pulpit, but I have known them risk their lives in the endeavour to prevent outrages. I am sure, take them as a body, that there is not a more useful or exemplary set of men in the world, than the parish priests of Ireland. There are, no doubt, exceptions; but what would become of the character of the clergymen of the Established Church, were individual instances brought forward to criminate the whole body? For my part, although I am a Catholic, and of course must condemn the upholding an expensive church establishment at the charge of people who are not members of it, yet there are many clergymen of that church whom I esteem and respect. With the one belonging to our parish we are on the most friendly terms; his family and ours are almost constantly together, and I am sure love each other sincerely. It would be well for you to bear in mind, that in this country Protestant and Catholic is not so much the distinguishing name of a religious sect, as it is the shibboleth of a political faction. There is, indeed, very little religion among the zealots on either side,—their own aggrandisement, and the possession of power or popularity, being their ruling motive. Poor Ireland has been torn to pieces between these conflicting parties, and has alternately been the dupe or the victim of the one or the other. Among well-informed and really religious people, these distinctions are little thought of.’
‘Nor should they be,’ replied I; ‘but, in my opinion, the influence of your clergymen over the mind and conscience of their flock extends too far, when used among ignorant and debased people. To restrain them from what is wrong, it may be beneficial, but it can also be turned to a bad purpose; and few intelligent people would like to have their conscience so much in the keeping of men frail and erring in their nature.’
‘Their influence is not so great as you imagine,’ replied Eugene; ‘we exercise a freedom of opinion on many points; for instance, there are many Catholics who cannot believe that all other sects will be eternally lost, and the enlightened of our clergy do not insist upon the point.’
‘It is an article of belief,’ said I, ‘that in my opinion is replete with mischief, and is the strongest weapon in the hands of your adversaries against emancipation. What can we expect, say they, from people who believe we are running the broad road to destruction? Even their pity can only extend so far as to drag us from its brink forcibly, as we would restrain a man from committing suicide. Would there not be an end of our political and religious freedom, the moment they got the ascendancy?’