Sermon for Holy Saturday by St. Vincent Ferrer (translated into English)

 

“For you are dead; and your life is hid with Christ in God. 4 When Christ shall appear, who is your life, then you also shall appear with him in glory.”(Col 3:3-4)

 

At Colossians 3:3 and in today’s epistle. Yesterday, the end of the sermon was the burial of the body of Christ, but about his soul where did it go, or what it did do, nothing was said. So now I wish to preach on this matter. But first we salute the Virgin Mary, etc. Already we can wish her joy and happiness, because soon the glorious resurrection of her son will happen, so we can greet her humbly and devoutly saying to her, Hail Mary. etc.

“Your life,” etc. For introducing the declaration of this word and preaching this matter it must be understood that sacred doctrine is general and certain to the Christian faith, that after the bodily death of Christ, his soul descended into hell, and it is an article of the faith saying, “died and was buried,” with respect to the body, “he descended into hell,” with respect to the soul, although he could have immediately ascended into heaven if he had wished, but he chose not to, rather he wished to be so humbled, because he wished to descend principally to comfort the holy fathers, for liberating them. Just as a king, having a battlefield victory wishes to enter the city in person, so Christ. And as long as his body was in the tomb, that long was his soul in limbo, and the next day the soul of Christ, together with the holy fathers would come out of limbo and assuming his glorious body resurrected. This is the true teaching of Christian faith, confirmed by the authority of Christ saying, ” “For as Jonas was in the whale’s belly three days and three nights: so shall the Son of man be in the heart of the earth three days and three nights,” (Mt 12:40).   Tell briefly the story of Jonah the prophet, as is found Jonah 1 and 2. And how he was a figure of the passion of Christ. The ship in which Christ sailed is human nature. Reason, because like the way a ship is made, namely narrow in the beginning, wide in the mille etc., likewise in the time of Christ, Gal 4: “But when the fullness of the time was come, God sent his Son,” (Gal 4:4). Now it is trimmed off like a stern. In the middle of the deck is placed the cross of Christ [Malus huius vanis in medio positus fuit crux Christi]. The sail is the body of Christ.

“She is like the merchant’s ship,” (Prov 31:14). This ship is battered by great waves and dangers of sinking into hell, nor was there another remedy of escaping but only that Jonah, i.e. Christ, be thrown into the sea, namely into the bitterness of suffering and death. And the whale, i.e. hell, opened its mouth and received him and held him three days and three nights, but on the next day he spit him up, and although the body of Christ and the soul on that day were divided and separated, nevertheless divinity never was separated nor divided, neither from the body nor from the soul, but all was with the body in the tomb, and all was with the soul in limbo, as St. Thomas says in the Third Part, q. 50, a. 2 & 3.

If it is asked how is this possible. I shall give you two comparisons for your eyes to strengthen your understanding. First the apple, one part white and the other part red. which if it is cut by a knife into two parts, its odor remains with both divided parts. The same with the humanity of Christ. Think that the humanity of Christ is like an apple, whose white part is the soul of Christ, purest without any defect, the red part his flesh, bloodied from the passion. Abut which Solomon, Canticle 5 in the person of the virgin Mary saying, “My beloved is white and ruddy, ,” (Song 5:10). The eternal divinity is united to the body and soul of Christ before the passion and death, like smell is joined and united to an apple. But the humanity of Christ, by the sword of death was divided and separated into two principal parts, but nevertheless, the odor, i.e. the eternal divinity always remained with both part inseparably.

A second image is more beautiful and clear, of a piece of crystal to the ray of sun which completely is filled with light and the brightness of the sun. For which reason if it is divided into two parts, the whole clarity of the sun remains with each divided part. So too with the humility of Christ, purer than crystal, illumined by the light and brightness of divinity, which broken in death, the whole divinity remains inseparably with each divided part, hidden, namely with the body in the grave, and with the soul in limbo or in hell. “His brightness shall be as the light; horns are in his hands: There is his strength hid: Death shall go before his face.,” (Hab 3:4f). In which is found three times of Christ, namely the time of his preaching, where ” His brightness shall be as the light,”. Second is the time of his bitter passion, ” horns are in his hands,” namely of the nails in his hands. And [third] the time of his death, where,” There is his strength hid,” namely his divinity, which was hidden with his body in the tomb and with his soul in limbo. Note, ” Death shall go before his face ” Before the passion of Christ death itself followed from the persecution of the Jews, not that death would have something in Christ, and Christ was followed until it caught him. But after his resurrection death went before him. So he says “Death shall go before his face,” Of this hiding Isaiah also speaks: “Verily thou art a hidden God, the God of Israel the savior.,” (Isa 45:15). Of this hiding speaks the theme, ” your life,” that is divinity is hidden with Christ.

Note for continuing of the sermon that although divinity is eternal, then it was hidden to those who were in the world, nevertheless then it was shown and manifested to those from hell, not that all from hell would see it, but all who were in hell and who knew Christ to be true God and true man. And divinity was shown to them and manifested in four ways, according that there were four places in hell

— First, the lowest place is the prison of the damned.

— Second, is the limbo of the fathers.

— Third is the limbo of those being purified,

— Fourth is the bosom of the holy fathers.

In each of these four the divinity of Christ was manifested in some way, because he descended to all, as the article of faith says, “died and was buried, and descended into hell [inferos]. Note the plural, “hells” [inferos]. But they did not see the divinity but only those who were in the bosom of the holy fathers, although he descended to all. So the Apostle, Ephesians 4: “he also descended first,” that is before he rose, “into the lower parts of the earth ,” (Eph 4:9). So it is good to know what he did there.

 

HELL - The first place, and the lowest, is the place of hell, the prison of the damned, filled with inextinguishable fire, which by divine power, tortures demons and damned souls. The soul of Christ descended to this place and there showed his divinity by rigorous reproaches, not according to its essence but according to effect, as St. Thomas says, [Summa theologica] III, q. 55, a. 2.

For two reasons the soul of Christ descended to these. First to bind Lucifer, who from the beginning of the world up to this time captured souls for one of the aforesaid four places. But yesterday, while Christ was on the cross with such a painful passion, abandoned by the apostles, disciples and friends, Lucifer, who first doubted whether he was the son of God , saying to himself, to the extent that this man is a holy prophet, nevertheless I shall lead him with me to hell, also came to Christ, and sat himself on the arms of the cross awaiting the soul of Christ. This is the image which St. Bede tells of this purpose, and it is also touched upon in the Gloss. It is said, briefly, the story of the son of Tobias going with Raphael, who wished to wash his feet in the river, and suddenly an immense fish, the biggest, lurched out to eat him. However he grabbed it by the gills and dragged it on shore etc., Tob. 6. Bede explains, that the river, quick and turbulent signified the sudden and turbulent death of Christ, because it came without due legal process. Christ wished to wash his feet, which are ourselves, we who touch the earth and are dirtied by sin. But suddenly a great fish, namely Lucifer or Satan came to devour Christ, and he seized it by the gills, etc. He was not seen by anyone ,only by Christ, who said, “O Traitor, in this evil hour you have come here.” But when the soul of Christ separated from his body, Lucifer knew that he was God, and he wished to flee, but he could not, because Christ seized him. He who wished to capture Christ, was captured by Christ, like the fish by Tobias. That the devil came to Christ, Authority: “For the prince of this world comes,” namely, Lucifer who like a tyrant was ruling the world, “and in me he has not any thing.,” (Jn 14:30). And that he was captured by Christ, Scripture: “Now is the judgment of the world: now shall the prince of this world be cast out.,” (Jn 12:31). Furthermore, it was Christ himself who seized and bound him in the prison of the damned, until the time of the antichrist, then he will be let loose for a time. And so Christ showed himself to be the Lord of hell, whose brass gates and barred windows he shattered.

The second reason why the soul of Christ descended was for rigorous rebuking, After he bound Lucifer, he scolded and reproved the damned. About this Peter seems to write in his epistle saying “Christ also died once for our sins,” (1 Pet 3:18f). And it follows “In which,” at the time of death, “also coming he preached to those spirits that were in prison:,” (v. 19). St. Thomas says in III, q. 52, a.2 ad 3 that this preaching was not instructive, but rebuking [increpativa], because as John Damascene says (De Fide Orth. iii): “As He evangelized them who are upon the earth, so did He those who were in hell”; not in order to convert unbelievers unto belief, but to put them to shame for their unbelief, since preaching cannot be understood otherwise than as the open manifesting of His Godhead to the hell-dwellers and in the descent of Christ to hell. This Thomas has in the same place.

Practically what was he saying to the evil emperors, kings and lords damned from their wicked lives and tyrannical rule, like Nero who was first who wished to have dominion, and Alexander and others wicked [strubis], that is accursed. “If you had used the good things I had given to you, gifts, for your lord, now you would have been saved.” And he scolded the great philosophers, Plato, Aristotle and others about which Jerome says that they were damned, Christ says, “O Stupid ones, you were teaching and legislating and disputing about the one first principle and prime mover and first cause, in your schools, and in the temple you adored idols. You had great knowledge and bad conscience.” Also he scolded the proud, saying, “O wretched ones ,if you had been humble, now you would have had glory.” And the greedy, etc, priests, false prophets, the simoniacal. And the lustful, saying “O you who lived like pigs, see now you will not have the delights of glory,”etc. So too the gluttons, the wrathful, the envious, like Cain. So the blasphemers, saying to the condemned thief, “O wretched one, did you not today blaspheme me on the cross?” So he reproached Judas, “O traitor, behold what you have bought, for such a cheap price.” Think how many tears, cries wailings of those damned, despairing of salvation. See how Christ manifested his divinity there, rigorously confounding them.

 

LIMBO - The second place is called the place of children, as we say one place [porta, door] where all the children are who died with only original sin. Original sin is not committed by them, but received, like a painting falling into the mud, etc. Therefore that sin is not called actual, but original, because that stain is received in bodily generation. And so because it is not an actual sin, they do not have physical pain there, but they are said to have fire from the fact that they shall never see the face of God. And the wrath of God, in which they are born, is seen to be fire. According to Deuteronomy 32: “A fire is kindled in my wrath, and shall burn even to the lowest hell:,” etc. (Deut 32:22). Holy scripture says, because they do not sleep bodily, so, like those who sleep are unaware of pain, so neither do these children sense pain [poenam]. Moreover Job sais in the person of someone damned: “Why did I not die in the womb, why did I not perish when I came out of the belly? Why received upon the knees? why suckled at the breasts? For now I should have been asleep and still, and should have rest in my sleep, ” (Job 3:11-13). St. Thomas says II Sent., dist. 34, a. 1 and see there the good doctor, that when they see the glory of the blessed, that they do not grieve nor are saddened, because that it is not relevant for them, just as you are not saddened because you do not have a kingdom, which doesn’t pertain to you. But the son of a king a prince, to whom the kingdom pertains, grieves about this. Neither are you saddened when you see an eagle flying, because you do not have wings. So neither do these children grieve.

To these the soul of Christ descends for glorious consolation. Practically, imagine how as the soul of Christ appeared at the gate of limbo, those children immediately knew Christ to be the savior. Seeing his soul and adoring him, saying: “Glory be to you, Lord, who have died for mankind,” etc. To whom he said, ‘How are you?’ They replied, “Lord it is good with us. We have great natural understanding and many graces and virtues,” — although they do not have sanctifying grace, “We debate with each other and we love each other.” Christ said, “Therefore give thanks to God who freed you from the fire of hell,” — he showed them the place of the damned– “and praise the Lord, and you will rest in peace.”

 

PURGATORY - The third place is called the place of purgation. About which it must be known that some people die without original sin, therefore they do not go with those children dying without the sacrament of baptism in limbo [literally, at the border of hell, ad inferni limbum], and they are without mortal sin, so they do not go with the damned. But because they had not made appropriate penance for sins committed after they had been washed from original sin, according to the quality and quantity of sins, such people, because of the fact that they have contrition, do not go with the damned, but into another world. Divine mercy ordained a place which is called purgatory, where souls are purified, where there is fire but there are no demons there, because no one there enters unless he was in the grace of God. Tthis fire of purgatory lasts until judgment day. It burns souls by divine power, which our physical fire cannot do. If your soul would be thrown into the pit of a furnace, that fire would hot harm it. But after the day of judgment the fire of purgatory will be extinguished. You might ask what if someone who on the day of judgment has not completed his penance, was not purged, what happens to him? Response: God shall increase the intensity of his punishment, etc. Of this place holy scripture says: “For gold and silver are tried in the fire, but acceptable men in the furnace of humiliation.,” (Sir 2:5).

To these Christ descends and visits with abundant liberation. The Doctors ask the question, and St. Thomas in III, q. 52, a. 8: Whether Christ liberated all the souls which were then in purgatory? To that question it must be answered with a distinction. We can speak about this matter in two ways, either with the rigor of justice, or with the sweetness of mercy. If we speak in the first way, he liberated only those who had completed their time of penitence, and this path St. Thomas follows in III Pars. If however we speak from the sweetness of mercy, we can say that he liberated all. And for this I will offer you two comparisons.

The first image is that of a newly crowned king, entering his city, who frees all the prisoners, unless they were captured for being between sides [? pro interesse partis]. Thus the king of glory, Christ, newly crowned with the crown of thorns, enters purgatory. All the souls in purgatory cried out to him, “Lord, free us.” And Christ questioned, although he already knew, how long had they been there. They replied, “Lord we have been here already for a month, for a year,” etc. Therefore, it is piously believed that Christ freed all. Authority: Isaiah reciting the word of God the father to his son, saying: “I have given you to be a covenant,” that is peace, “of the people, that you might raise up the earth, and possess the inheritances that were destroyed: That you might say to them who are bound: Come forth: and to them who are in darkness: Show yourselves,” (Isa 49:8f) There are four phrases [clausulae], of which two are about the life of Christ, the others about his death. First where, ” I have given you to be a covenant of the people, that you might raise up,” namely those who were sleeping in sins, whom Christ awakens by preaching. Second where, “and possess the inheritances that were destroyed,” namely the rational souls which are the inheritance of God, destroyed through sin. Third where, “That you mightest say to them who are bound: Come forth.” He does not speak there of those who are in the hell of the damned, because no one escapes from there, but about those in purgatory. Fourth where, “and to them who are in darkness: Shew yourselves,”

A second comparison is with a newly created Pope, who then grants great indulgences and numerous graces. How much greater Pope Jesus who is the Lord of graces and indulgences, because the Pope, his vicar, is not the lord of the church, but dispenser and manager [dispensator et procurator]. Since therefore the Pope can be so liberal, how much more so Christ, who is Lord. Authority, Isaiah 61: “The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me: he has sent me to preach to the meek, to heal the contrite of heart, and to preach a release to the captives, and deliverance to who are shut up,” (Isa 61:1). Note: the Spirit of the Lord, namely the Holy Spirit, is over me, Christ speaks insofar as he is man, because, insofar as he is God the Holy Spirit is not over him but equal, and one God. “He has sent me to preach to the meek,” namely in this world for preaching and after death he says, “and to preach a release to the captives.”   Say how before the passion of Christ, after a soul had completed its purgatory, it would go forth from there and go to the place of the holy fathers, which is called the bosom of Abraham. Authority, Lk 16: “And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham’s bosom.,” (Lk 16:22), because those fittingly repentant used to go there, but now they ascend to heaven and even after they leave purgatory. Say how the time assessed by God for staying in purgatory, can be reduced by suffrages of the living. So inheritors are bound to fulfill the last will and testament of the deceased, otherwise Christ says, Lk 18: “And will not God revenge his elect who cry to him day and night: ,” (Lk 18:7).

 

BOSOM OF ABRAHAM - The fourth place is called the bosom of Abraham. Here the souls of the holy fathers were staying, who had been there from the beginning of the world until the resurrection of Christ. The first of those who entered it was Abel, and when Christ arose all came out of there with Christ. None there suffered punishment, but they did not yet have glory. Into this home the soul of Christ entered. Augustine says that just as the soul of Christ entered through this home, all those holy patriarchs beheld the divinity of Christ and experienced glory and paradise. About which Christ had said to the thief, “This you shall be with me in paradise.,” (Lk 23:43). Augustine says that all the other souls of the holy fathers adored Christ, saying: “You have come, redeemer, you have come, whom we had expected every day. Now our joy is complete.” Christ greeted them saying, “Peace be to you.” Adam with all his sons and daughters humbly adored Christ, with all the patriarchs. Then Moses with the Prophets. Next Aaron with all the Priests, David with all the Kings. John the Baptist with all the Holy Innocents. Then, Eve with all the Holy Women. And Christ stayed with them until the resurrection. Authority, Mt 12: “For as Jonas was in the whale’s belly three days and three nights: so shall the Son of man be in the heart of the earth three days and three nights,” (Mt 12:40). Also, the authority of Wisdom in the person of Christ: “I will penetrate to all the lower parts of the earth, and will behold all that sleep, and will enlighten all that hope in the Lord. ,” (Sir 24:45). Note: ” I will behold all that sleep,” that is all the dead, “and will enlighten all that hope in the Lord,” supply, with the light of divine glory.

Now there remains tomorrow the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. To which may he lead us, etc.

Good Reading: "The Farmer and the Stork" by Aesop (translated into English)

 

A Farmer placed nets on his newly-sown plowlands and caught a number of Cranes, which came to pick up his seed. With them he trapped a Stork that had fractured his leg in the net and was earnestly beseeching the Farmer to spare his life. "Pray save me, Master," he said, "and let me go free this once. My broken limb should excite your pity. Besides, I am no Crane, I am a Stork, a bird of excellent character; and see how I love and slave for my father and mother. Look too, at my feathers - they are not the least like those of a Crane." The Farmer laughed aloud and said, "It may be all as you say, I only know this: I have taken you with these robbers, the Cranes, and you must die in their company." 

 

Birds of a feather flock together.

Tuesday's Serial: “Lavengro” by George Borrow (in English) - VII

 

Chapter 13

groom and cob—strength and symmetry—where's the saddle?—the first ride—no more fatigue—love for horses—the pursuit of words—philologist and pegasus—the smith—what more, agrah?

 

And it came to pass that, as I was standing by the door of the barrack stable, one of the grooms came out to me, saying, 'I say, young gentleman, I wish you would give the cob a breathing this fine morning.'

'Why do you wish me to mount him?' said I; 'you know he is dangerous. I saw him fling you off his back only a few days ago.'

'Why, that's the very thing, master. I'd rather see anybody on his back than myself; he does not like me; but, to them he does, he can be as gentle as a lamb.'

'But suppose,' said I, 'that he should not like me?'

'We shall soon see that, master,' said the groom; 'and, if so be he shows temper, I will be the first to tell you to get down. But there's no fear of that; you have never angered or insulted him, and to such as you, I say again, he'll be as gentle as a lamb.'

'And how came you to insult him,' said I, 'knowing his temper as you do?'

'Merely through forgetfulness, master: I was riding him about a month ago, and having a stick in my hand, I struck him, thinking I was on another horse, or rather thinking of nothing at all. He has never forgiven me, though before that time he was the only friend I had in the world; I should like to see you on him, master.'

'I should soon be off him; I can't ride.'

'Then you are all right, master; there's no fear. Trust him for not hurting a young gentleman, an officer's son, who can't ride. If you were a blackguard dragoon, indeed, with long spurs, 'twere another thing; as it is, he'll treat you as if he were the elder brother that loves you. Ride! he'll soon teach you to ride if you leave the matter with him. He's the best riding-master in all Ireland, and the gentlest.'

The cob was led forth; what a tremendous creature! I had frequently seen him before, and wondered at him; he was barely fifteen hands, but he had the girth of a metropolitan dray-horse; his head was small in comparison with his immense neck, which curved down nobly to his wide back: his chest was broad and fine, and his shoulders models of symmetry and strength; he stood well and powerfully upon his legs, which were somewhat short. In a word, he was a gallant specimen of the genuine Irish cob, a species at one time not uncommon, but at the present day nearly extinct.

'There!' said the groom, as he looked at him, half admiringly, half sorrowfully, 'with sixteen stone on his back, he'll trot fourteen miles in one hour, with your nine stone, some two and a half more; ay, and clear a six-foot wall at the end of it.'

'I'm half afraid,' said I; 'I had rather you would ride him.'

'I'd rather so, too, if he would let me; but he remembers the blow. Now, don't be afraid, young master, he's longing to go out himself. He's been trampling with his feet these three days, and I know what that means; he'll let anybody ride him but myself, and thank them; but to me he says, "No! you struck me."'

'But,' said I, 'where's the saddle?'

'Never mind the saddle; if you are ever to be a frank rider, you must begin without a saddle; besides, if he felt a saddle, he would think you don't trust him, and leave you to yourself. Now, before you mount, make his acquaintance—see there, how he kisses you and licks your face, and see how he lifts his foot, that's to shake hands. You may trust him—now you are on his back at last; mind how you hold the bridle—gently, gently! It's not four pair of hands like yours can hold him if he wishes to be off. Mind what I tell you—leave it all to him.'

Off went the cob at a slow and gentle trot, too fast and rough, however, for so inexperienced a rider. I soon felt myself sliding off, the animal perceived it too, and instantly stood stone still till I had righted myself; and now the groom came up: 'When you feel yourself going,' said he, 'don't lay hold of the mane, that's no use; mane never yet saved man from falling, no more than straw from drowning; it's his sides you must cling to with your calves and feet, till you learn to balance yourself. That's it, now abroad with you; I'll bet my comrade a pot of beer that you'll be a regular rough-rider by the time you come back.'

And so it proved; I followed the directions of the groom, and the cob gave me every assistance. How easy is riding, after the first timidity is got over, to supple and youthful limbs; and there is no second fear. The creature soon found that the nerves of his rider were in proper tone. Turning his head half round, he made a kind of whining noise, flung out a little foam, and set off.

In less than two hours I had made the circuit of the Devil's Mountain, and was returning along the road, bathed with perspiration, but screaming with delight; the cob laughing in his equine way, scattering foam and pebbles to the left and right, and trotting at the rate of sixteen miles an hour.

Oh, that ride! that first ride!—most truly it was an epoch in my existence; and I still look back to it with feelings of longing and regret. People may talk of first love—it is a very agreeable event, I daresay,—but give me the flush, and triumph, and glorious sweat of a first ride, like mine on the mighty cob! My whole frame was shaken, it is true; and during one long week I could hardly move foot or hand; but what of that? By that one trial I had become free, as I may say, of the whole equine species. No more fatigue, no more stiffness of joints, after that first ride round the Devil's Hill on the cob.

Oh, that cob! that Irish cob!—may the sod lie lightly over the bones of the strongest, speediest, and most gallant of its kind! Oh! the days when, issuing from the barrack-gate of Templemore, we commenced our hurry-skurry just as inclination led—now across the fields—direct over stone walls and running brooks—mere pastime for the cob!—sometimes along the road to Thurles and Holy Cross, even to distant Cahir!—what was distance to the cob?

It was thus that the passion for the equine race was first awakened within me—a passion which, up to the present time, has been rather on the increase than diminishing. It is no blind passion; the horse being a noble and generous creature, intended by the All-Wise to be the helper and friend of man, to whom he stands next in the order of creation. On many occasions of my life I have been much indebted to the horse, and have found in him a friend and coadjutor, when human help and sympathy were not to be obtained. It is therefore natural enough that I should love the horse; but the love which I entertain for him has always been blended with respect; for I soon perceived that, though disposed to be the friend and helper of man, he is by no means inclined to be his slave; in which respect he differs from the dog, who will crouch when beaten; whereas the horse spurns, for he is aware of his own worth, and that he carries death within the horn of his heel. If, therefore, I found it easy to love the horse, I found it equally natural to respect him.

I much question whether philology, or the passion for languages, requires so little of an apology as the love for horses. It has been said, I believe, that the more languages a man speaks, the more a man is he; which is very true, provided he acquires languages as a medium for becoming acquainted with the thoughts and feelings of the various sections into which the human race is divided; but, in that case, he should rather be termed a philosopher than a philologist—between which two the difference is wide indeed! An individual may speak and read a dozen languages, and yet be an exceedingly poor creature, scarcely half a man; and the pursuit of tongues for their own sake, and the mere satisfaction of acquiring them, surely argues an intellect of a very low order; a mind disposed to be satisfied with mean and grovelling things; taking more pleasure in the trumpery casket than in the precious treasure which it contains; in the pursuit of words, than in the acquisition of ideas.

I cannot help thinking that it was fortunate for myself, who am, to a certain extent, a philologist, that with me the pursuit of languages has been always modified by the love of horses; for scarcely had I turned my mind to the former, when I also mounted the wild cob, and hurried forth in the direction of the Devil's Hill, scattering dust and flint-stones on every side; that ride, amongst other things, taught me that a lad with thews and sinews was intended by nature for something better than mere word-culling; and if I have accomplished anything in after life worthy of mentioning, I believe it may partly be attributed to the ideas which that ride, by setting my blood in a glow, infused into my brain. I might, otherwise, have become a mere philologist; one of those beings who toil night and day in culling useless words for some opus magnum which Murray will never publish, and nobody ever read; beings without enthusiasm, who, having never mounted a generous steed, cannot detect a good point in Pegasus himself; like a certain philologist, who, though acquainted with the exact value of every word in the Greek and Latin languages, could observe no particular beauty in one of the most glorious of Homer's rhapsodies. What knew he of Pegasus? he had never mounted a generous steed; the merest jockey, had the strain been interpreted to him, would have called it a brave song!—I return to the brave cob.

 

On a certain day I had been out on an excursion. In a cross-road, at some distance from the Satanic hill, the animal which I rode cast a shoe. By good luck a small village was at hand, at the entrance of which was a large shed, from which proceeded a most furious noise of hammering. Leading the cob by the bridle, I entered boldly. 'Shoe this horse, and do it quickly, a gough,' said I to a wild grimy figure of a man, whom I found alone, fashioning a piece of iron.

'Arrigod yuit?' said the fellow, desisting from his work, and staring at me.

'Oh yes, I have money,' said I, 'and of the best'; and I pulled out an English shilling.

'Tabhair chugam?' said the smith, stretching out his grimy hand.

'No, I shan't,' said I; 'some people are glad to get their money when their work is done.'

The fellow hammered a little longer, and then proceeded to shoe the cob, after having first surveyed it with attention. He performed his job rather roughly, and more than once appeared to give the animal unnecessary pain, frequently making use of loud and boisterous words. By the time the work was done, the creature was in a state of high excitement, and plunged and tore. The smith stood at a short distance, seeming to enjoy the irritation of the animal, and showing, in a remarkable manner, a huge fang, which projected from the under jaw of a very wry mouth.

'You deserve better handling,' said I, as I went up to the cob and fondled it; whereupon it whinnied, and attempted to touch my face with its nose.

'Are ye not afraid of that beast?' said the smith, showing his fang. 'Arrah, it's vicious that he looks!'

'It's at you, then!—I don't fear him'; and thereupon I passed under the horse, between its hind legs.

'And is that all you can do, agrah?' said the smith.

'No,' said I, 'I can ride him.'

'Ye can ride him, and what else, agrah?'

'I can leap him over a six-foot wall,' said I.

'Over a wall, and what more, agrah?'

'Nothing more,' said I; 'what more would you have?'

'Can you do this, agrah?' said the smith; and he uttered a word which I had never heard before, in a sharp pungent tone. The effect upon myself was somewhat extraordinary, a strange thrill ran through me; but with regard to the cob it was terrible; the animal forthwith became like one mad, and reared and kicked with the utmost desperation.

'Can you do that, agrah?' said the smith.

'What is it?' said I, retreating, 'I never saw the horse so before.'

'Go between his legs, agrah,' said the smith, 'his hinder legs'; and he again showed his fang.

'I dare not,' said I, 'he would kill me.'

'He would kill ye! and how do ye know that, agrah?'

'I feel he would,' said I, 'something tells me so.'

'And it tells ye truth, agrah; but it's a fine beast, and it's a pity to see him in such a state: Is agam an't leigeas'—and here he uttered another word in a voice singularly modified, but sweet and almost plaintive; the effect of it was as instantaneous as that of the other, but how different!—the animal lost all its fury, and became at once calm and gentle. The smith went up to it, coaxed and patted it, making use of various sounds of equine endearment; then turning to me, and holding out once more the grimy hand, he said, 'And now ye will be giving me the Sassannach tenpence, agrah?'

 

 

Chapter 14

a fine old city—norman master-work—lollards' hole—good blood—the spaniard's sword—old retired officer—writing to a duke—god help the child—nothing like jacob—irish brigades—old sergeant meredith—i have been young—idleness—the bookstall—a portrait—a banished priest

 

From the wild scenes which I have attempted to describe in the latter pages I must now transport the reader to others of a widely different character. He must suppose himself no longer in Ireland, but in the eastern corner of merry England. Bogs, ruins, and mountains have disappeared amidst the vapours of the west: I have nothing more to say of them; the region in which we are now is not famous for objects of that kind: perhaps it flatters itself that it can produce fairer and better things, of some of which let me speak; there is a fine old city before us, and first of that let me speak.

A fine old city, truly, is that, view it from whatever side you will; but it shows best from the east, where the ground, bold and elevated, overlooks the fair and fertile valley in which it stands. Gazing from those heights, the eye beholds a scene which cannot fail to awaken, even in the least sensitive bosom, feelings of pleasure and admiration. At the foot of the heights flows a narrow and deep river, with an antique bridge communicating with a long and narrow suburb, flanked on either side by rich meadows of the brightest green, beyond which spreads the city; the fine old city, perhaps the most curious specimen at present extant of the genuine old English town. Yes, there it spreads from north to south, with its venerable houses, its numerous gardens, its thrice twelve churches, its mighty mound, which, if tradition speaks true, was raised by human hands to serve as the grave-heap of an old heathen king, who sits deep within it, with his sword in his hand, and his gold and silver treasures about him. There is a grey old castle upon the top of that mighty mound; and yonder, rising three hundred feet above the soil, from among those noble forest trees, behold that old Norman master-work, that cloud-encircled cathedral spire, around which a garrulous army of rooks and choughs continually wheel their flight. Now, who can wonder that the children of that fine old city are proud of her, and offer up prayers for her prosperity? I, myself, who was not born within her walls, offer up prayers for her prosperity, that want may never visit her cottages, vice her palaces, and that the abomination of idolatry may never pollute her temples. Ha, idolatry! the reign of idolatry has been over there for many a long year, never more, let us hope, to return; brave hearts in that old town have borne witness against it, and sealed their testimony with their hearts' blood—most precious to the Lord is the blood of His saints! we are not far from hallowed ground. Observe ye not yon chalky precipice, to the right of the Norman bridge? On this side of the stream, upon its brow, is a piece of ruined wall, the last relic of what was of old a stately pile, whilst at its foot is a place called the Lollards' Hole; and with good reason, for many a saint of God has breathed his last beneath that white precipice, bearing witness against popish idolatry, midst flame and pitch; many a grisly procession has advanced along that suburb, across the old bridge, towards the Lollards' Hole: furious priests in front, a calm pale martyr in the midst, a pitying multitude behind. It has had its martyrs, the venerable old town!

Ah! there is good blood in that old city, and in the whole circumjacent region of which it is the capital. The Angles possessed the land at an early period, which, however, they were eventually compelled to share with hordes of Danes and Northmen, who flocked thither across the sea to found hearthsteads on its fertile soil. The present race, a mixture of Angles and Danes, still preserve much which speaks strongly of their northern ancestry; amongst them ye will find the light-brown hair of the north, the strong and burly forms of the north, many a wild superstition, ay, and many a wild name connected with the ancient history of the north and its sublime mythology; the warm heart and the strong heart of the old Danes and Saxons still beats in those regions, and there ye will find, if anywhere, old northern hospitality and kindness of manner, united with energy, perseverance, and dauntless intrepidity; better soldiers or mariners never bled in their country's battles than those nurtured in those regions, and within those old walls. It was yonder, to the west, that the great naval hero of Britain first saw the light; he who annihilated the sea pride of Spain, and dragged the humble banner of France in triumph at his stern. He was born yonder, towards the west, and of him there is a glorious relic in that old town; in its dark flint guildhouse, the roof of which you can just descry rising above that maze of buildings, in the upper hall of justice, is a species of glass shrine, in which the relic is to be seen; a sword of curious workmanship, the blade is of keen Toledan steel, the heft of ivory and mother-of-pearl. 'Tis the sword of Cordova, won in bloodiest fray off Saint Vincent's promontory, and presented by Nelson to the old capital of the much-loved land of his birth. Yes, the proud Spaniard's sword is to be seen in yonder guildhouse, in the glass case affixed to the wall: many other relics has the good old town, but none prouder than the Spaniard's sword.

Such was the place to which, when the war was over, my father retired: it was here that the old tired soldier set himself down with his little family. He had passed the greater part of his life in meritorious exertion, in the service of his country, and his chief wish now was to spend the remainder of his days in quiet and respectability; his means, it is true, were not very ample; fortunate it was that his desires corresponded with them; with a small fortune of his own, and with his half-pay as a royal soldier, he had no fears for himself or for his faithful partner and helpmate; but then his children! how was he to provide for them? how launch them upon the wide ocean of the world? This was, perhaps, the only thought which gave him uneasiness, and I believe that many an old retired officer at that time, and under similar circumstances, experienced similar anxiety; had the war continued, their children would have been, of course, provided for in the army, but peace now reigned, and the military career was closed to all save the scions of the aristocracy, or those who were in some degree connected with that privileged order, an advantage which few of these old officers could boast of; they had slight influence with the great, who gave themselves very little trouble either about them or their families.

'I have been writing to the Duke,' said my father one day to my excellent mother, after we had been at home somewhat better than a year. 'I have been writing to the Duke of York about a commission for that eldest boy of ours. He, however, affords me no hopes; he says that his list is crammed with names, and that the greater number of the candidates have better claims than my son.'

'I do not see how that can be,' said my mother.

'Nor do I,' replied my father. 'I see the sons of bankers and merchants gazetted every month, and I do not see what claims they have to urge, unless they be golden ones. However, I have not served my king fifty years to turn grumbler at this time of life. I suppose that the people at the head of affairs know what is most proper and convenient; perhaps when the lad sees how difficult, nay, how impossible it is that he should enter the army, he will turn his mind to some other profession; I wish he may!'

'I think he has already,' said my mother; 'you see how fond he is of the arts, of drawing and painting, and, as far as I can judge, what he has already done is very respectable; his mind seems quite turned that way, and I heard him say the other day that he would sooner be a Michael Angelo than a general officer. But you are always talking of him; what do you think of doing with the other child?'

'What, indeed!' said my father; 'that is a consideration which gives me no little uneasiness. I am afraid it will be much more difficult to settle him in life than his brother. What is he fitted for, even were it in my power to provide for him? God help the child! I bear him no ill will, on the contrary, all love and affection; but I cannot shut my eyes; there is something so strange about him! How he behaved in Ireland! I sent him to school to learn Greek, and he picked up Irish!'

'And Greek as well,' said my mother. 'I heard him say the other day that he could read St. John in the original tongue.'

'You will find excuses for him, I know,' said my father. 'You tell me I am always talking of my first-born; I might retort by saying you are always thinking of the other: but it is the way of women always to side with the second-born. There's what's her name in the Bible, by whose wiles the old blind man was induced to give to his second son the blessing which was the birthright of the other. I wish I had been in his place! I should not have been so easily deceived! no disguise would ever have caused me to mistake an impostor for my first-born. Though I must say for this boy that he is nothing like Jacob; he is neither smooth nor sleek, and, though my second-born, is already taller and larger than his brother.'

'Just so,' said my mother; 'his brother would make a far better Jacob than he.'

'I will hear nothing against my first-born,' said my father, 'even in the way of insinuation: he is my joy and pride; the very image of myself in my youthful days, long before I fought Big Ben; though perhaps not quite so tall or strong built. As for the other, God bless the child! I love him, I'm sure; but I must be blind not to see the difference between him and his brother. Why, he has neither my hair nor my eyes; and then his countenance! why, 'tis absolutely swarthy, God forgive me! I had almost said like that of a gypsy, but I have nothing to say against that; the boy is not to be blamed for the colour of his face, nor for his hair and eyes; but, then, his ways and manners!—I confess I do not like them, and that they give me no little uneasiness—I know that he kept very strange company when he was in Ireland; people of evil report, of whom terrible things were said—horse-witches and the like. I questioned him once or twice upon the matter, and even threatened him, but it was of no use; he put on a look as if he did not understand me, a regular Irish look, just such a one as those rascals assume when they wish to appear all innocence and simplicity, and they full of malice and deceit all the time. I don't like them; they are no friends to old England, or its old king, God bless him! They are not good subjects, and never were; always in league with foreign enemies. When I was in the Coldstream, long before the Revolution, I used to hear enough about the Irish brigades kept by the French kings, to be a thorn in the side of the English whenever opportunity served. Old Sergeant Meredith once told me that in the time of the Pretender there were always, in London alone, a dozen of fellows connected with these brigades, with the view of seducing the king's soldiers from their allegiance, and persuading them to desert to France to join the honest Irish, as they were called. One of these traitors once accosted him and proposed the matter to him, offering handfuls of gold if he could induce any of his comrades to go over. Meredith appeared to consent, but secretly gave information to his colonel; the fellow was seized, and certain traitorous papers found upon him; he was hanged before Newgate, and died exulting in his treason. His name was Michael Nowlan. That ever son of mine should have been intimate with the Papist Irish, and have learnt their language!'

'But he thinks of other things now,' said my mother.

'Other languages, you mean,' said my father. 'It is strange that he has conceived such a zest for the study of languages; no sooner did he come home than he persuaded me to send him to that old priest to learn French and Italian, and, if I remember right, you abetted him; but, as I said before, it is in the nature of women invariably to take the part of the second-born. Well, there is no harm in learning French and Italian, perhaps much good in his case, as they may drive the other tongue out of his head. Irish! why, he might go to the university but for that; but how would he look when, on being examined with respect to his attainments, it was discovered that he understood Irish? How did you learn it? they would ask him; how did you become acquainted with the language of Papists and rebels? The boy would be sent away in disgrace.'

'Be under no apprehension, I have no doubt that he has long since forgotten it.'

'I am glad to hear it,' said my father; 'for, between ourselves, I love the poor child; ay, quite as well as my first-born. I trust they will do well, and that God will be their shield and guide; I have no doubt He will, for I have read something in the Bible to that effect. What is that text about the young ravens being fed?'

'I know a better than that,' said my mother; 'one of David's own words, “I have been young and now am grown old, yet never have I seen the righteous man forsaken, or his seed begging their bread.”'

I have heard talk of the pleasures of idleness, yet it is my own firm belief that no one ever yet took pleasure in it. Mere idleness is the most disagreeable state of existence, and both mind and body are continually making efforts to escape from it. It has been said that idleness is the parent of mischief, which is very true; but mischief itself is merely an attempt to escape from the dreary vacuum of idleness. There are many tasks and occupations which a man is unwilling to perform, but let no one think that he is therefore in love with idleness; he turns to something which is more agreeable to his inclination, and doubtless more suited to his nature; but he is not in love with idleness. A boy may play the truant from school because he dislikes books and study; but, depend upon it, he intends doing something the while—to go fishing, or perhaps to take a walk; and who knows but that from such excursions both his mind and body may derive more benefit than from books and school? Many people go to sleep to escape from idleness; the Spaniards do; and, according to the French account, John Bull, the 'squire, hangs himself in the month of November; but the French, who are a very sensible people, attribute the action à une grande envie de se désennuyer; he wishes to be doing something, say they, and having nothing better to do, he has recourse to the cord.

It was for want of something better to do that, shortly after my return home, I applied myself to the study of languages. By the acquisition of Irish, with the first elements of which I had become acquainted under the tuition of Murtagh, I had contracted a certain zest and inclination for the pursuit. Yet it is probable that had I been launched about this time into some agreeable career, that of arms for example, for which, being the son of a soldier, I had, as was natural, a sort of penchant, I might have thought nothing more of the acquisition of tongues of any kind; but, having nothing to do, I followed the only course suited to my genius which appeared open to me.

So it came to pass that one day, whilst wandering listlessly about the streets of the old town, I came to a small book-stall, and stopping, commenced turning over the books; I took up at least a dozen, and almost instantly flung them down. What were they to me? At last, coming to a thick volume, I opened it, and after inspecting its contents for a few minutes, I paid for it what was demanded, and forthwith carried it home.

It was a tessaraglot grammar; a strange old book, printed somewhere in Holland, which pretended to be an easy guide to the acquirement of the French, Italian, Low Dutch, and English tongues, by means of which anyone conversant in any one of these languages could make himself master of the other three. I turned my attention to the French and Italian. The old book was not of much value; I derived some benefit from it, however, and, conning it intensely, at the end of a few weeks obtained some insight into the structure of these two languages. At length I had learnt all that the book was capable of informing me, yet was still far from the goal to which it had promised to conduct me. 'I wish I had a master!' I exclaimed; and the master was at hand. In an old court of the old town lived a certain elderly personage, perhaps sixty, or thereabouts; he was rather tall, and something of a robust make, with a countenance in which bluffness was singularly blended with vivacity and grimace; and with a complexion which would have been ruddy, but for a yellow hue which rather predominated. His dress consisted of a snuff-coloured coat and drab pantaloons, the former evidently seldom subjected to the annoyance of a brush, and the latter exhibiting here and there spots of something which, if not grease, bore a strong resemblance to it; add to these articles an immense frill, seldom of the purest white, but invariably of the finest French cambric, and you have some idea of his dress. He had rather a remarkable stoop, but his step was rapid and vigorous, and as he hurried along the streets, he would glance to the right and left with a pair of big eyes like plums, and on recognising any one would exalt a pair of grizzled eyebrows, and slightly kiss a tawny and ungloved hand. At certain hours of the day he might be seen entering the doors of female boarding-schools, generally with a book in his hand, and perhaps another just peering from the orifice of a capacious back pocket; and at a certain season of the year he might be seen, dressed in white, before the altar of a certain small popish chapel, chanting from the breviary in very intelligible Latin, or perhaps reading from the desk in utterly unintelligible English. Such was my preceptor in the French and Italian tongues. 'Exul sacerdos; vone banished priest. I came into England twenty-five year ago, “my dear.”'