Bob squeezed the priest's hand a third time.
"Beatty," said Mr. Lucre, "this is a solemn occasion, and I'm bound to say, that the priest here is merely a representative of Antichrist. This is not a time to disguise the truth."
Bob squeezed Mr. Lucre's hand a third time also.
"Beatty," continued Mr. Lucre, "if you permit yourself to die a Papist, you seal your own everlasting punishment."
"True," said Bob.
"Bob," said the priest, "if after the explanations of the true church which I have given you, you allow yourself to relapse into heresy, you will suffer for it during all eternity."
"True," said Bob.
"There is no hope for those, who, like the Papists and idolators, hew for themselves vessels that will hold no water," said Lucre.
[Illustration: PAGE 322-- "Ah, very right," said Bob.]
"Ah, very right," said Bob.
"There is but one Faith, one Church, and one Baptism, and that is ours,"
said the priest.
"Ah, you can do it," said Bob, with a squeeze.
"Bob," said the wife, "what do you mean? I don't understand you--die a True Blue, and don't shame your friends."
"Gentlemen," said Bob, "I feel disposed to sleep a little. It is likely that a few minutes' rest may strengthen my weak body, and clear my mind for the consolations of religion, which you are both so beautifully prepared to give me. I feel rather drowsy, so I'll close my eyes for a few minutes, and doze a little."
Bob closed his eyes for about four mortal hours and a half, during which time our two worthy gentlemen sat at his bed-side with the most exemplary patience. At length he opened his eyes, and inquired for his daughter Fanny, who had been sent for Father Roche; to her he whispered a few words, after which she went out, but almost immediately returned.
He looked at her inquiringly, and she answered:
"Yes, just as I expected--in a few minutes."
"Gentlemen," said Bob, "I am much aisier now; but I am at a loss whether to to prepared for heaven by you, Mr. Lucre, or by Father M'Cabe."
"Beatty," said Lucre, "you have have access to the Bible, and possessing, as you do, and as you must, the Scriptural knowledge, gained from that sacred book, to die in the church which worships crucifixes and images would leave you without hope or excuse."
"Ah!" said Bob, "you are sound in point of doctrine. No man is more orthodox than you."
"Bob," said the priest, "you know what the Council of Trent says:-- 'There is but one Church, one Faith, and one Baptism'--if you die out of that church, which is ours, woe betide you. No, Bob, there is no hope for you if you die an apostate, Bob."
"Ah," said Bob, "you can send it home, Father M'Cabe."
"Bob," said the wife, "die a True Blue, and don't shame the family."
"There is but a blue look up for you if you do," said Father M'Cabe.
"Blue is the emblem of hope, and for that reason the Orange system has adopted it as illustrative of our faith," said Mr. Lucre.
He had scarcely uttered the words, when Father Roche entered the sick apartment. High and haughty was the bow he received from Mr. Lucre; whilst Father M'Cabe seemed somewhat surprised at the presence of the reverend gentlemen. The latter looked mildly about him, wiped the moisture from his pale forehead and said--
"Mrs. Beatty, will you indulge me with a chair? On my return home I lost not a moment in coming here; but the walk I have had is a pretty long one, the greater part of it being up-hill."
"Well," replied Mrs. Beatty, "I'm not the woman to think one thing and speak another. To be sure, I'd rather he would die a True Blue than a Papish; but since he will die one, I'd rather have you at his side than e'er a priest in the kingdom. If there is a Christian among them, you are one--you are--so, Bob dear, since you're bent on it, I won't disturb you."
"Bring your chair near me," said Bob; "where is your hand, my dear sir?
Give Me your hand." Poor Bob caught Father Roche's hand in his, and pressed it honestly and warmly.
"Bob," said Mr. Lucre, "I don't understand this; in what creed are you disposed to die?"
"You see, sir," said M'Cabe, "that he _won't_ die in yours at any rate."
"You will not die in my creed!" repeated the parson, astonished.
"No," said Bob; "I will not."
"You will then die in mine, of course?" said Mr. M'Cabe.
"No," replied Bob; "I will not."
"How is that?" said the priest.
"Explain yourself," said Mr. Lucre.
"_I'll die a Christian_," replied Bob. "You're both anything but what you ought to be; and if I wasn't on my death-bed you'd hear more of it.
Here is a Christian clergyman, and under his ministry I will die."
"Ah," said Mr. Lucre, "I perceive, Mrs. Beatty, that the poor man's intellect is gone; whilst his reason was sound he remained a staunch Protestant, and as such, we shall claim him. He must be interred according to the rights of our church, for he dies clearly _non compos mentis_."
Father Roche now addressed himself to Beatty, and prepared him for his great change, as became a pious and faithful minister of the gospel.
Beatty, however, was never capable of serious impressions. Still, his feelings were as solemn as could be expected, from a man whose natural temperament had always inclined him to facetiousness and humor. He died the next day, after a severe fit, from which he recovered only to linger about half an hour in a state of stupor and insensibility.
This conflict between the priest and the parson was a kind of prelude in its way, to the great Palaver, or discussion, which was immediately to take place between the redoubtable champions of the rival churches.
CHAPTER XXVIII.--Darby is a Spiritual Ganymede
--Preparations for the Great Discussion, which we do not give--Extraordinary Hope of a Modern Miracle--Solomon like an Angel looking into the Gospel.
On the morning of the appointed day, the walls of Castle Cumber were duly covered with placards containing the points to be discussed, and the names of the speakers on both sides of the question. The roads leading to the scene of controversy were thronged with people of all classes. Private jaunting cars, gigs, and carriages of every description, rolled rapidly along. Clergymen of every creed, various as they are, moved through the streets with eager and hurried pace, each reverend countenance marked by an anxious expression arising from the interest its possessor felt in the result of the controversy. People, in fact, of all ranks and religions, were assembled to hear the leading men on each side defend their own creeds, and assail those of their enemies.
The professional men relinquished, for the day, their other engagements and avocations, in order to be present; and invalids, who had not been long out of their sick rooms, tottered down, wrapped in cloaks, to hear this great display of learning and eloquence. Early on the preceding morning, the Catholic Clergy, though without the sanction of their Bishops, formally signified to the committee of the society, their intention of meeting them man to man on the platform. Before the door was open to the crowd at large, the opposing clergymen and the more select friends on both sides were admitted by a private entrance.
The gallery was set aside for ladies, who, in Ireland, and we believe everywhere else, form an immense majority at religious meetings.
When the house was thronged to suffocation, none but a man intimately acquainted with the two-fold character of the audience, could observe much more within it, than the sea of heads with which it was studded.
The Protestant party looked on with a less devoted, but freer aspect; not, however, without an evident feeling and pride in the number and character of their champions. A strong dash of enthusiasm might be seen in many fair eyes among the females, who whispered to each other an occasional observation concerning their respective favorites; and then turned upon the divine champions, smiles that seemed to have been kindled by the sweet influences of love and piety. Among the Roman Catholic party there was an expression of wonder created by the novelty of the scene; of keen observation, evinced by the incessant rolling of their clear Milesian eyes from one party to another, together with something like pity and contempt for the infatuated Biblemen, as they called them, who could so madly rush upon the sharp theological spears of their own beloved clergymen. Dismay, or doubt, or apprehension of any kind, were altogether out of the question, as was evident from the proud look, the elated eye, and the confident demeanor by which each of them might be distinguished. Here and there, you might notice an able-bodied, coarse-faced Methodist Preacher, with lips like sausages, sombre visage, closely cropped hair, trimmed across his face, sighing from time to time, and, with eyes half closed, offering up a silent prayer for victory over the Scarlet Lady; or, perhaps, thinking of the fat ham and chicken, that were to constitute that day's dinner, as was not improbable, if the natural meaning were to be attached to the savory spirit with which, from time to time, he licked, or rather sucked at, his own lips. He and his class, many of whom, however, are excellent men, sat at a distance from the platform, not presuming to mingle with persons who consider them as having no title to the clerical character, except such as they conveniently bestow on each other. Not so the Presbyterian Clergymen who were present. They mingled with their brethren of the Establishment, from whom they differed only in a less easy and gentlemanly deportment, but yielded to them neither in kindness of intellect, firmness, nor the cool adroitness of men well read, and quite as well experienced in public speaking. At the skirt of the platform sat the unassuming Mr. Clement, a calm spectator of the proceedings; and in the capacity of messenger appeared. Darby O'Drive, dressed in black--he had not yet entered upon the duties of his new office--busily engaged in bringing in, and distributing oranges and other cooling fruit, to those of the Protestant party who were to address the meeting. High aloft, in the most conspicuous situation on the platform, sat Solomon M'Slime, breathing of piety, purity, and humility. He held a gilt Bible in his hands, in order to follow the parties in their scriptural quotations, and to satisfy himself of their accuracy, as well as that he might fall upon some blessed text, capable of enlarging his privileges. There was in his countenance a serene happiness, a sweet benignity, a radiance of divine triumph, partly arising from the consciousness of his own inward state, and partly from the glorious development of scriptural truth which would soon be witnessed, to the utter discomfiture of Popery and the Man of Sin.
For some time before the business of the day commenced, each party was busily engaged in private conferences; in marking passages for reference, arranging notes, and fixing piles of books in the most convenient position. Mr. Lucre was in full pomp, exceedingly busy, directing, assisting, and tending their wants, with a proud courtesy, and a suavity of manner, which no man could better assume. The deportment and manners of the Roman Catholic clergy were strongly marked, and exceedingly well defined; especially in determination of character and vigor of expression. In a word, they were firm, resolute, and energetic. Among the latter, the busiest by far, and the most zealous was Father M'Cabe, who assumed among his own party much the same position that Mr. Lucre did among his. He was, no doubt of it, in great glee, and searched out for Mr. Lucre's eye, in order to have a friendly glance with him, before the play commenced. Lucre perceived this, and avoided him as much as he could; but, in fact, the thing was impossible.