Read Ebook: Father Tom and the Pope by Anonymous

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 172 lines and 13874 words, and 4 pages

Father Tom and the Pope.

Father Tom and the Pope,

A Night in the Vatican.

NEW YORK:

A. SIMPSON & CO.,

Agathynian Press, 60 Duane Street, N.Y.

PREFACE

Whether any one among the speakers or listeners became better Christians after the controversy, is a question. It is doubtful whether Gregg or Father Tom made or lost a single convert to either faith.

The ingenuity with which the conversation between the Pope and Father Tom is developed to the reader, forms no little part of its felicitousness. A hedge priest, one Michael Heffernan, of the National School of Ballymacktaggart, is the interlocutor. This keeper of a ragged school, under the shadow of an Irish hedge, is the exponent of theological controversies that have shaken the world! Happy satire! which like summer lightning, clears up the atmosphere, and makes even the skies bright, blue, beautiful and buoyant. To us! poor mortals! to whom a touch of nature shakes the laughter out of us, or brings the tears into our eyes, such books are the treasures of our language.

If out of the sorrow and misery of this world, wit has managed to alleviate one shade of human suffering; if it has lifted up its hand against tyranny; if it has sometimes by the pen of Cervantes lessened the ridiculous power of a so-called chivalry; or in the satires of Swift, destroyed the prestige of hereditary birth; if it has done any good in this world, let so much good be accounted to it.

FOOTNOTES:

HOW FATHER TOM WENT TO TAKE POT-LUCK AT THE VATICAN.

"You may say that," says his Riv'rence to him again. "Be my sowl," says he, "if I put your Holiness undher the table, you won't be the first Pope I floored."

Well, his Holiness laughed like to split; for, you know, Pope was the great Prodesan that Father Tom put down upon Purgathory; and ov coorse they knew all the ins and outs ov the conthravarsy at Room. "Faix, Thomaus," says he, smiling across the table at him mighty agreeable--"it's no lie what they tell me, that yourself is the pleasant man over the dhrop ov good liquor."

"Would you like to thry?" says his Riv'rence.

"Sure, and amn't I thrying all I can?" says the Pope. "Sorra betther bottle ov wine's betuxt this and Salamancha, nor's there fornenst you on the table; its raal Lachrymalchrystal, every spudh ov it."

"It's mortial could," says Father Tom.

"Well, man alive," says the Pope, "sure and here's the best ov good claret in the cut decanther."

"Not maning to make little ov the claret, your Holiness," says his Riv'rence, "I would prefir some hot wather and sugar, wid a glass of spirits through it, if convanient."

"Hand me over the bottle ov brandy," says the Pope to his head butler, "and fetch up the materi'ls," says he.

"Ah, then, your Holiness," says his Riv'rence, mighty eager, "maybe you'd have a dhrop ov the native in your cellar? Sure it's all one throuble," says he, "and, troth, I dunna how it is, but brandy always plays the puck wid my inthrails."

"'Pon my conscience, then," says the Pope, "it's very sorry I am, Misther Maguire," says he, "that it isn't in my power to plase you; for I'm sure and certaint that there's not as much whisky in Room this blessed minit as 'ud blind the eye ov a midge."

"Well, in troth, your Holiness," says Father Tom, "I knewn there was no use in axing; only," says he, "I didn't know how else to exqueeze the liberty I tuck," says he, "ov bringing a small taste," says he, "ov the raal stuff," says he, hauling out an imperi'l quart bottle out ov his coat-pocket; "that never seen the face ov a gauger," says he, setting it down on the table fornenst the Pope: "and if you'll jist thry the full ov a thimble ov it, and if it doesn't rise the cockles ov your Holiness's heart, why, then, my name," says he, "isn't Tom Maguire!" and wid that he outs wid the cork.

"Well, sure enough, it's the blessed liquor now," says his Riv'rence, "and so there can be no harm any way in mixing a dandy ov punch; and," says he, stirring up the materi'ls with his goolden muddler--for everything at the Pope's table, to the very schrew for drawing the corks, was ov vergin goold--"if I might make bould," says he, "to spake on so deep a subjic afore your Holiness, I think it 'ud considherably facilitate the invistigation ov its chemisthry and phwarmaceutics, if you'd jist thry the laste sup in life ov it inwardly."

"Well, then, suppose I do make the same expiriment," says the Pope, in a much more condiscinding way nor you'd have expected--and wid that he mixes himself a real stiff facer.

"What's that?" says the Pope.

"Put in the sperits first," says his Riv'rence; "and then put in the sugar; and remember, every dhrop ov wather you put in after that spoils the punch."

"Glory be to God!" says the Pope, not minding a word Father Tom was saying. "Glory be to God!" says he, smacking his lips. "I never knewn what dhrink was afore," says he. "It bates the Lachrymalchrystal out of the face!" says he--"it's Necthar itself, it is, so it is!" says he, wiping his epistolical mouth wid the cuff ov his coat.

"'Pon my secret honor," says his Riv'rence, "I'm raally glad to see your Holiness set so much to your satisfaction; especially," says he, "as, for fear ov accidents, I tuck the liberty ov fetching the fellow ov that small vesshel," says he, "in my other coat pocket. So divil a fear ov our running dhry till the but-end ov the evening, anyhow," says he.

"Dhraw your stool in to the fire, Misther Maguire," says the Pope, "for faix," says he, "I'm bent on analysing the metaphwysics ov this phinomenon. Come, man alive, clear off," says he, "you're not dhrinking at all."

"Is it dhrink?" says his Riv'rence; "by Gorra, your Holiness," says he, "I'd dhrink wid you till the cows'ud be coming home in the morning."

HOW FATHER TOM SACKED HIS HOLINESS IN THEOLOGY AND LOGIC.

Well, the lecthir's over, and I'm kilt out and out. My bitther curse upon the man that invinted the same Boord! I thought ons't I'd fadomed the say ov throuble; and that was when I got through fractions at Ould Mat Kavanagh's school, in Firdramore--God be good to poor Mat's sowl, though he did deny the cause the day he suffered! but it's fluxions itself we're set to bottom now, sink or shwim! May I never die if my head isn't as throughother as anything wid their ordinals and cardinals--and, begob, its all nothing to the econimy lecthir that I have got to go to at two o'clock. Howandiver, I mustn't forget that we left his Riv'rence and his Holiness sitting fornenst one another in the parlor ov the Vatican, jist afther mixing their second tumbler.

When they had got well down into the same, they fell, as I was telling you, into larned discourse. For, you see, the Pope was curious to find out whether Father Tom was the great theologinall that people said; and says he, "Misther Maguire," says he, "what answer do you make to the heretics when they quote them passidges agin thransubstantiation out ov the Fathers?" says he.

"Why," says his Riv'rence, "as there should be no sich passidges I make myself mighty aisy about them; but if you want to know how I dispose ov them," says he, "just repate one ov them," says he, "and I'll show you how to catapomphericate it in two shakes."

"Why, then," says the Pope, "myself disremimbers the particlar passidges they alledge out of them old felleys," says he, "though sure enough they're more numerous nor edifying--so we'll jist suppose that a heretic was to find sich a saying as this in Austin, 'Every sinsible man knows that thransubstantiation is a lie'--or this out of Tertullian or Plutarch, 'the Bishop ov Room is a common imposther,' now tell me, could you answer him?"

"As easy as kiss," says his Riv'rence. "In the first, we're to understand that the exprission, 'Every sinsible man,' signifies simply, 'Every man that judges by his nath'ral sinses;' and we all know that nobody folleying them seven deludhers could ever find out the mysthery that's in it, if somebody didn't come in to his assistance wid an eighth sinse, which is the only sinse to be depended on, being the sinse ov the Church. So that, regarding the first quotation which your Holiness has supposed, it makes clane for us, and tee-totally agin the heretics."

"That's the explanation sure enough," says his Holiness; "and now what div you say to my being a common imposther?"

"Faix, I think," says his Riv'rence, "wid all submission to the better judgment ov the learned father that your Holiness has quoted, he'd have been a thrifle nearer the truth, if he had said that the Bishop ov Room is the grand imposther and top-sawyer in that line over us all."

"What do you mane?" says the Pope, getting quite red in the face.

"'Pon my epostolical word," says the Pope, "you've cleared up them two pints in a most satisfactory manner."

"You see," says his Riv'rence--by this time they wor mixing their third tumbler--"the writings ov them Fathers is to be thrated wid great veneration; and it 'ud be the height of presumption in any one to sit down to interpret them widout providing himself wid a genteel assortment ov the best figures ov rhetoric, sich as mettonymy, hyperbol, cattychraysis, prolipsis, mettylipsis, superbaton, pollysyndreton, hustheronprotheron, prosodypeia and the like, in ordher that he may never be at a loss for shuitable sintiments when he comes to their high-flown passidges. For unless we thrate them Fathers liberally to a handsome allowance ov thropes and figures, they'd set up heresy at ons't, so they would."

"It's thrue for you," says the Pope; "the figures ov spache is the pillars ov the Church."

"Bedad," says his Riv'rence, "I dunna what we'd do widout them at all."

"Which one do you prefir?" says the Pope; "that is," says he, "which figure ov spache do you find most usefullest when you're hard set?"

"Metaphour's very good," says his Riv'rence, "and so's mettonymy--and I've known prosodypeia stand to me at a pinch mighty well--but for a constancy, superbaton's the figure for my money. Divil be in me," says he, "but I'd prove black white as fast as a horse 'ud throt wid only a good stock ov superbaton."

"Faix," says the Pope, wid a sly look, "you'd need to have it backed, I judge, wid a small taste ov assurance."

"Stop a bit," says the Pope, "I can't althegither give in to your second minor--no--your second major," says he, and he stopped. "Faix, then," says he, getting confused, "I don't rightly remimber where it was exactly that I thought I seen the flaw in your premises. Howsomdiver," says he, "I don't deny that it's a good conclusion, and one that 'ud be ov materi'l service to the Church if it was dhrawn wid a little more distinctiveness."

"It's as clear as mud," says the Pope.

"Begad," says his Riv'rence, "I'm in great humor for disputin' to-night. I wisht your Holiness was a heretic jist for two minutes," says he, "till you'd see the flaking I'd give you!"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet