Tales from Blackwood Volume Iii Part 4

"Mendacium est!" says the Pope, quite forgetting himself, he was so mad at being sacked before the sarvints.

Well, if it hadn't been that his Holiness was in it, Father Tom 'ud have given him the contints of his tumbler betuxt the two eyes, for calling him a liar; and, in troth, it's very well it was in Latin the offince was conweyed, for, if it had been in the vernacular, there's no saying what 'ud ha' been the consequence. His Riv'rence was mighty angry anyhow.--"Tu senex lathro," says he, "quomodo audes me mendacem praedicare?"

"Et tu, sacrilege nebulo," says the Pope, "quomodo audacitatem habeas, me Dei in terris vicarium, lathronem conwiciari?"

"Interroga circ.u.mcirca," says his Riv'rence.

"Abi ex aedibus meis," says the Pope.

"Abi tu in malem crucem," says his Riv'rence.

"Exc.u.mnicabo te," says the Pope.

"Diabolus curat," says his Riv'rence.

"Anathema sis," says the Pope.

"Oscula meum pod,"--says his Riv'rence--but, my dear, afore he could finish what he was going to say, the Pope broke out into the vernacular, "Get out o' my house, you reprobate!" says he in sich a rage that he could contain himself widin the Latin no longer.

"Ha, ha, ha!--ho, ho, ho!" says his Riv'rence, "Who's the hare now, your Holiness? Oh, by this and by that, I've sacked you clane! Clane and clever I've done it, and no mistake! You see what a bit ov desate will do wid the wisest, your Holiness--sure it was joking I was, on purpose to aggrawate you--all's fair, you know, in love, law, and conthravarsy.

In troth if I'd thought you'd have taken it so much to heart, I'd have put my head into the fire afore I'd have said a word to offind you,"

says he, for he seen that the Pope was very vexed. "Sure, G.o.d forbid that I'd say anything agin your Holiness, barring it was in fun: for aren't you the father ov the faithful, and the thrue vicar ov G.o.d upon earth? And amn't I ready to go down on my two knees this blessed minit and beg your apostolical pardon for every word that I said to your displas.e.m.e.nt?"

"Are you in arnest that it is in fun you wor?" says the Pope.

"May I never die if I amn't," says his Riv'rence. "It was all to provoke your Holiness to commit a brache ov the Latin that I tuck the small liberties I did," says he.

"I'd have you to take care," says the Pope, "how you take sich small liberties again, or maybe you'll provoke me to commit a brache ov the pace."

"Well, and if I did," says his Riv'rence, "I know a sartain preparation ov chemicals that's very good for curing a brache either in Latinity or frinds.h.i.+p."

"What's that?" says the Pope, quite mollified, and sitting down again at the table that he had ris from in the first pluff of his indignation.

"What's that?" says he, "for, 'pon my Epistolical 'davy, I think it 'udn't be asy to bate this miraclous mixthir that we've been thrying to anilize this two hours back," says he, taking a mighty scientifical swig out ov the bottom ov his tumbler.

"It's good for a beginning," says his Riv'rence; "it lays a very nate foundation for more sarious operation: but we're now arrived at a pariod of the evening when it's time to proceed wid our shuper-structhure by compa.s.s and square, like free and excipted masons as we both are."

My time's up for the present; but I'll tell you the rest in the evening at home.

CHAPTER IV.

HOW FATHER TOM AND HIS HOLINESS DISPUTED IN METAPHYSICS AND ALGEBRA.

G.o.d be wid the time when I went to the cla.s.sical seminary ov Firdramore!

when I'd bring my sod o' turf undher my arm, and sit down on my shnug boss o' straw, wid my back to the masther and my s.h.i.+ns to the fire, and score my sum in Dives's denominations or the double rule o' three, or play fox-and-geese wid purty Jane Cruise that sat next me, as plisantly as the day was long, widout any one so much as saying, "Mikey Heffernan, what's that you're about?"--for ever since I was in the one lodge wid poor ould Mat I had my own way in his school as free as ever I had in my mother's shebeen. G.o.d be wid them days, I say again, for its althered times wid me, I judge, since I got under Carlisle and Whateley. Sich sthrictness! sich ordher! sich dhrilling, and lecthiring, and tuthoring as they do get on wid! I wisht to gracious the one-half of their rules and rigilations was sunk in the say. And they're getting so sthrict, too, about having fair play for the heretic childher! We've to have no more schools in the chapels, nor ma.s.ses in the schools. Oh, by this and by that it'll never do at all! The ould plan was twenty times betther; and, for my own part, if it wasn't that the clargy supports them in a manner, and the grant's a thing not easily done widout these hard times, I'd see if I couldn't get a sheltered spot nigh-hand the chapel, and set up again on the good ould principle: and faix, I think our Metropolitan 'ud stand to me, for I know that his Grace's motto was ever and always, that "Ignorance is the thrue mother ov piety."

But I'm running away from my narrative entirely, so I am. "You'll plase to ordher up the housekeeper, then," says Father Tom to the Pope, "wid a pint ov sweet milk in a skillet, and the bulk ov her fist ov b.u.t.ther, along wid a dust ov soft sugar in a saucer, and I'll show you the way of producing a decoction that, I'll be bound, will hunt the thirst out ov every nook and corner in your Holiness's blessed carcidge."

The Pope ordhered up the ingredients, and they were brought in by the head butler.

"That'll not do at all," says his Riv'rence, "the ingredients won't combine in due proportion unless ye do as I bid yez. Send up the housekeeper," says he, "for a faymale hand is ondispinsably necessary to produce the adaptation ov the particles and the concurrence ov the corpuscles, widout which you might boil till morning, and never fetch the cruds off ov it."

Well, the Pope whispered to his head butler, and by-and-by up there comes an ould f.a.ggot ov a _Caillean_, that was enough to frighten a horse from his oats.

"Don't thry for to desave me," says his Riv'rence, "for it's no use, I tell yez. Send up the housekeeper, I bid yez: I seen her presarving gooseberries in the panthry as I came up: she has eyes as black as a sloe," says he, "and cheeks like the rose in June; and sorra taste of this celestial mixthir shall cra.s.s the lips ov man or mortial this blessed night till she stirs the same up wid her own delicate little finger."

"Misther Maguire," says the Pope, "it's very unproper ov you to spake that way ov my housekeeper: I won't allow it, sir."

"Honour bright, your Holiness," says his Riv'rence, laying his hand on his heart.

"Oh, by this and by that, Misther Maguire," says the Pope, "I'll have none of your insiniwations: I don't care who sees my whole household,"

says he; "I don't care if all the faymales undher my roof was paraded down the High Street of Room," says he.

"Oh, it's plain to be seen how little you care who see's them," says his Riv'rence. "You're afeared, now, if I was to see your housekeeper, that I'd say she was too handsome."

"No, I'm not!" says the Pope; "I don't care who sees her," says he.

"Anthony," says he to the head butler, "bid Eliza throw her ap.r.o.n over her head, and come up here." Wasn't that stout in the blessed man? Well, my dear, up she came, stepping like a three-year-old, and blus.h.i.+ng like the brake o' day: for though her ap.r.o.n was thrown over her head as she came forrid, till you could barely see the tip ov her chin--more be token there was a lovely dimple in it, as I've been tould--yet she let it shlip a bit to one side, by chance like, jist as she got fornenst the fire, and if she wouldn't have given his Riv'rence a shot if he hadn't been a priest, it's no matther.

"Now, my dear," says he, "you must take that skillet, and hould it over the fire till the milk comes to a blood-hate; and the way you'll know that will be by stirring it ons't or twice wid the little finger ov your right hand, afore you put in the b.u.t.ther: not that I mis...o...b..," says he, "but that the same finger's fairer nor the whitest milk that ever came from the t.i.t."

"None of your deludhering talk to the young woman, sir," says the Pope, mighty stern. "Stir the posset as he bids you, Eliza, and then be off wid yourself," says he.

"I beg your Holiness's pardon ten thousand times," says his Riv'rence; "I'm sure I meant nothing onproper; I hope I'm uncapable ov any sich dirilection of my duty," says he. "But, marciful Saver!" he cried out, jumping up on a suddent, "look behind you, your Holiness--I'm blest but the room's on fire!"

Sure enough the candle fell down that minit, and was near setting fire to the windy-curtains, and there was some bustle, as you may suppose, getting things put to rights. And now I have to tell you ov a raally onpleasant occurrence. If I was a Prodesan that was in it, I'd say that while the Pope's back was turned, Father Tom made free wid the two lips ov Miss Eliza; but, upon my conscience, I believe it was a mere mistake that his Holiness fell into on account of his being an ould man, and not having aither his eyesight or his hearing very parfect. At any rate it can't be denied but that he had a sthrong imprission that sich was the case; for he wheeled about as quick as thought, jist as his Riv'rence was sitting down, and charged him wid the offince plain and plump. "Is it kissing my housekeeper before my face you are, you villain?" says he.

"Go down out o' this," says he to Miss Eliza; "and do you be packing off wid you," he says to Father Tom, "for it's not safe, so it isn't, to have the likes ov you in a house where there's temptation in your way."

"Is it me?" says his Riv'rence; "why, what would your Holiness be at, at all? Sure I wasn't doing no sich thing."

"Would you have me doubt the evidence ov my sinses?" says the Pope; "would you have me doubt the testimony ov my eyes and ears?" says he.

"Indeed I would so," says his Riv'rence, "if they pretend to have informed your Holiness ov any sich foolishness."

"Why," says the Pope, "I seen you afther kissing Eliza as plain as I see the nose on your face; I heard the smack you gave her as plain as ever I heard thundher."

"And how do you know whether you see the nose on my face or not?" says his Riv'rence; "and how do you know whether what you thought was thundher, was thundher at all? Them operations of the sinses," says he, "comprises only particular corporayal emotions, connected wid sartain confused perciptions called sinsations, and isn't to be depended upon at all. If we were to follow them blind guides, we might jist as well turn heretics at ons't. 'Pon my secret word, your Holiness, it's naither charitable nor orthodox ov you to set up the testimony ov your eyes and ears agin the characther of a clergyman. And now, see how aisy it is to explain all them phwenomena that perplexed you. I ris and went over beside the young woman because the skillet was boiling over, to help her to save the dhrop ov liquor that was in it; and as for the noise you heard, my dear man, it was neither more nor less nor myself dhrawing the cork out ov this blissid bottle."

"Don't offer to thrape that upon me!" says the Pope; "here's the cork in the bottle still, as tight as a wedge."

"I beg your pardon," says his Riv'rence, "that's not the cork at all,"

says he; "I dhrew the cork a good two minits ago, and it's very purtily spitted on the end ov this blessed cork-shcrew at this prisint moment; howandiver you can't see it, because it's only its raal prisence that's in it. But that appearance that you call a cork," says he, "is nothing but the outward s.p.a.cies and external qualities of the cortical nathur.

Them's nothing but the accidents of the cork that you're looking at and handling; but, as I tould you afore, the real cork's dhrew, and is here prisint on the end ov this nate little insthrument, and it was the noise I made in dhrawing it, and nothing else, that you mistook for the sound ov the _pogue_."

You know there was no conthravening what he said; and the Pope couldn't openly deny it. Howandiver he thried to pick a hole in it this way.

"Granting," says he, "that there is the differ you say betwixt the reality ov the cork and them cortical accidents, and that it's quite possible, as you alledge, that the thrue cork is really prisint on the end ov the shcrew, while the accidents keep the mouth ov the bottle stopped--still," says he, "I can't undherstand, though willing to acquit you, how the dhrawing ov the real cork, that's onpalpable and widout accidents, could produce the accident of that sinsible explosion I heard jist now."

"All I can say," says his Riv'rence, "is, that I'm sinsible it was a real accident, anyhow."

"Ay," says the Pope, "the kiss you gev Eliza, you mane."