Hugh Quigley - The Cross and the Shamrock

H >> Hugh Quigley >> The Cross and the Shamrock

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THE

CROSS AND THE SHAMROCK,

OR,

HOW TO DEFEND THE FAITH.

AN

IRISH-AMERICAN CATHOLIC TALE

OF REAL LIFE,

DESCRIPTIVE OF THE

TEMPTATIONS, SUFFERINGS, TRIALS, AND TRIUMPHS

OF THE

CHILDREN OF ST. PATRICK

IN THE

GREAT REPUBLIC OF WASHINGTON.

A BOOK

FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT AND SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS OF

THE CATHOLIC MALE AND FEMALE SERVANTS OF THE
UNITED STATES.

WRITTEN BY

A MISSIONARY PRIEST.

[Transcriber's Note: a pseudonym for Hugh Quigley.]

BOSTON:

PATRICK DONAHOE,

3 FRANKLIN STREET.

1853.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by

PATRICK DONAHOE,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of
Massachusetts.

STEREOTYPED AT THE
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY.

DEDICATION.

To the faithful Irish-American Catholic citizens
of the whole Union, and especially to the working
portion of them, on account of their piety,
their liberality, their patriotism, and their steady
loyalty to the virtues symbolized by the "Cross
and the Shamrock,"--on account of their attachment
to the land of St. Patrick, and to the
religion of her patriot princes and martyrs,--this
work, written for their encouragement and instruction,
is respectfully inscribed by

Their humble servant,
And devoted friend and fellow-citizen,
THE AUTHOR.

September, 1853.

PREFACE.

"There are moments when every citizen who feels that he can say
something promotive of the welfare of his countrymen and of advantage to
his country is authorized to give _public_ utterance to his sentiments,
how humble soever he may be."--_Letter of Archbishop Hughes on the
Madiai_, February, 1853.

"There may be, in public opinion, an Inquisition a thousand times more
galling to the soul than the gloomy prison or the weight of
chains."--_National Democrat_, March, 1853.

1st. The above extracts, from different but respectable sources,
comprise the author's chief motives in the publication of the following
work. It is a well-known fact, that thousands of our fellow-Christians,
in all parts of this vast _free country_, are continually subjected to a
most trying ordeal of temptation and persecution on account of their
religion, and that the wonderful progress of Catholicity and renewed
power of the church only add to the malice, if not to the influence, of
sectarians, in their efforts to make use of this odious persecution of
servant boys and servant girls, of widows and orphans, to build up their
own tottering conventicles, and to circumscribe the giant strides of
what they call "the man of sin."

A very intelligent American lawyer lately remarked to the writer of
this, "that, about twenty-five years ago, the parsons fulminated all
their eloquence against Satan; but they seem to have formed a league
with him now, for all their vengeance is directed against the pope, who,
they say, is far more dangerous than Old Harry."

When we know this to be literally true, and find our poor, neglected,
and uninstructed brethren in danger accordingly, how can any thing that
can be said, written, or done, to alleviate their condition, or to
remove prejudice from the public mind, be counted a work of
supererogation?

2d. The corruption of the cheap trash literature, that is now ordinarily
supplied for the amusement and instruction of the American people,--and
that threatens to uproot and annihilate all the notions of virtue and
morals that remain, in spite of sectarianism,--calls for some antidote,
some remedy. In every rail car, omnibus, stage coach, steamboat, or
canal packet, publications, containing the most poisonous principles and
destructive errors, are presented to, and are purchased by, passengers
of both sexes, whose minds, like the appetites of hungry animals, will
take to eating the filthiest stuff, rather than want food for
rumination. It is for the philanthropists of the present day, and for
those who are paid for making such inquiries, to trace the connection
between the _roues_ of your cities, your Bloomer women, your spiritual
rappers, and other countless extravagances of a diseased public mind,
and between the abominable publications to which we allude.

3d. Our people are not generally great readers of the trashy newspapers
of the day; and in this respect they show their good sense, or at least
have happened on good luck: it is therefore our duty to supply them with
cheap and amusing literature, to entertain them during the few hours
they are disengaged from work. And what reading can afford the Irish
Catholic greater pleasure than any work, however imperfect, having for
its end the exaltation and defence of his glorious old faith, and the
vindication of his native land--his beloved "Erin-go-bragh"? Impress on
his susceptible mind the honor and advantage of defence and fidelity to
the CROSS and the SHAMROCK, and you give him two ideas that will come to
his aid in most of his actions through life. We are ashamed here of the
cross of Christ, when we see it continually dishonored and trampled on
by heretics and modern pagans, in their scramble for money and pleasures.
On the other hand, the poverty, humiliation, and rags of old Erin, of
the kings, saints, and martyrs, scandalize us; and from these two false
notions the degradation and apostasy of many Irishmen commence. Hence they
no sooner land on the shores of America than they endeavor to clip the
musical and rich brogue of fatherland, to make room for the bastard
barbarisms and vulgar slang of Yankeedom. The remainder of the course of
the apostate is easily traced, till, ashamed of creed and country, he ends
by being ashamed of his Creator and Redeemer, and barters the inheritance
of heaven for the miserable and short enjoyments of this earth.

A _fourth_, and a leading motive in the publication of this work, is to
record the manly defences which the people among whom the author lives
have made of the creed of their fathers, and to enable them to refute,
in a simple, practical manner, for the edification of their opponents,
the many objections proposed to them about the faith. By placing a copy
of this work in the hands of every head of a family in the congregation
in which he presides, the author thinks he will have done something
towards the salvation of that parent and his house, by showing him how
he may educate his children, and save them from those subtle snares laid
to rob them and him of happiness here and hereafter; for, without true
religion and virtue, there is neither enjoyment nor happiness even in
this world.

But are the principles sound, and the estimate he has formed of American
character and the conduct and motives of the sectarian parsons correct?
There may be, and undoubtedly there is, great variety in American
character; and, so far, what may be true of the people of one state or
county, may not at all be applicable to those of the rest; but as far as
regards sectarianism and its slanders of the church, and the low
character, intellectually and morally, of the parsons, ministers,
dominies, and preachers, with few honorable exceptions, it may be said,
in the words of the poet,--

"Ex uno disce omnes."

"They are all chips of the same block;" and the description in the
following pages of their attempts to proselytize, seduce, and corrupt,
is not at all exaggerated, as thousands of candid American Protestants
can testify. Perhaps the sectarian dominies do not see the sad
consequences that are infallibly produced on the minds of their hearers,
after they come to detect the frauds and falsehoods which the parsons
inculcate on them when children; but they are in _the cause_, and
morally responsible for that doubt, irreligion, and downright infidelity
which are the well-known characteristics of the male and female youth
of our great country, and which threaten such disastrous consequences to
society.

Yes, dominies, you are responsible for all the extravagances of modern
times, for the irreparable loss to virtue and society of the noble youth
of your country. You hate the church of God because she is a witness
against you. The priest, the nun, and the recluse are objects of your
malice; for they are living examples of what you call impossible morals,
and refuters of the code of low virtue you practise and preach. The
faith of the Catholic laity, too, you endeavor to destroy, in order more
securely to deceive your hearers, and to secure your children, your
wives, and yourselves, that bread which you eat by the dissemination of
error, contradiction, and contention, and which you are too lazy to
"earn by the sweat of your brow."

_Finally._ This work is submitted to the reader by one who will be well
pleased if it affords the former any pleasure or amusement during one or
two of such few hours of leisure as it took the latter to write it.
Regarding style, method, and arrangement of the matter, the author has
no apology to offer, except that the work has been written in great
haste, and by one who, in five years, has not had a single entire day
for recreation or unoccupied by severe missionary duty. Let not the
critics forget this.

CONTENTS.

PAGE
CHAPTER I.
A DEATH BED SCENE, 13

CHAPTER II.
GETTING THE MOTHER'S BLESSING, 23

CHAPTER III.
AN OFFICIAL, 32

CHAPTER IV.
THE POORHOUSE, 41

CHAPTER V.
THE O'CLERYS, 52

CHAPTER VI.
THE COUNCIL, 60

CHAPTER VII.
A RUDE LOVER OF NATURE, 69

CHAPTER VIII.
THE ORPHANS IN THEIR NEW HOME, 77

CHAPTER IX.
THE PRYING FAMILY, 87

CHAPTER X.
A RAY OF HOPE, 97

CHAPTER XI.
VAN STINGEY AGAIN.--HOW HE GETS RICH AND ENDS, 106

CHAPTER XII.
MASS IN A SHANTY, 117

CHAPTER XIII.
THE TEMPTER AT THE WOMAN, 129

CHAPTER XIV.
THE FRUITS OF THE CROSS, 136

CHAPTER XV.
THE CONVERSION, 145

CHAPTER XVI.
THE ENLIGHTENED CITIZENS, 155

CHAPTER XVII.
"HE AND HIS WHOLE HOUSE BELIEVED," 164

CHAPTER XVIII.
"TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION," 178

CHAPTER XIX.
WHAT HAPPENED TO LITTLE EUGENE O'CLERY, 187

CHAPTER XX.
THE SAME, CONTINUED, 201

CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS, 213

CHAPTER XXII.
THE DESERTED HOME OF THE ORPHANS, 223

CHAPTER XXIII.
IN WHICH THE SCENE OF OUR TALE IS CHANGED, 240

CHAPTER XXIV.
SHOWS HOW THE CROSS AND SHAMROCK WERE PERMANENTLY
UNITED AFTER A LONG SEPARATION, 251

CHAPTER XXV.
CONCLUSION, 260

CHAPTER I.

A DEATH-BED SCENE.

A cold evening in the month of January, a drizzling rain storm blowing
from the south-west, a cheerless sky, a dull, threatening atmosphere,
together with almost impassable roads,--these are the chilling and
uninviting circumstances with which, if we pay regard to truth, we must
introduce our narrative to our readers. It is usual, with writers of
fiction and romance, to preface their literary exhibitions with
high-wrought and dazzling descriptions of natural and artificial
objects--the sun, moon, and stars; the clouds, meteors, and other
fantastic creations of the atmosphere; the seas, rivers, and lakes; the
mountains, fields, and gardens; the birds, fishes, and the inhabitants
of the savage forests, as well as the forests, groves, and woods
themselves,--in a word, all nature seems as if conscious of the effects
likely to result to the morals, habits, and projects of men, while some
of your modern novelists are arranging their matter, sharpening their
scissors, preparing pen, ink, and paper, and taking indigestible suppers
to make way into the world for the offspring of their creative fancies.
Ours being a tale of truth,--yes, of bare, unvarnished truth, yet of
truth more interesting, if not "stranger, than fiction,"--it is not to
be wondered that, when we acknowledge the homely dame, and her alone, as
our guide, inspirer, and preceptor, we lack the advantage of romancers,
and cannot command "a special sunset," or a storm made to order, or
other enchanting scenery, to introduce us to our patrons.

We must take things as we find them; and this is why cold, rain, and
frost, the whistling of merciless winds, together with false and
pitiless ice, constitute the principal features of our introductory
chapter. The merry chimes of sleigh bells, as if to add gloom to the
scene, were silent, no snow having fallen this winter, and the ice being
irregular and lumpy. The streets of the city of T---- were almost
entirely deserted of foot passengers, owing to the danger of walking
over the slippery pavement; while cabmen and omnibus conductors had
cautiously driven their teams to the stable or smithy, to have them
"sharpened" for the frozen coat of mail which enveloped the earth. When
about dusk, an aged gentleman, in a cloak, with a sharp-pointed cane in
his hand, might be observed moving along the gutter of a narrow street.
Occasionally he would slip so as to come on one knee, and now he would
steer himself along by taking hold of the sills of windows, and of the
railings which here and there were erected in front of a few houses on
the retired and deserted street on which he crept along.

At length he approaches an old three-story, red, frame-built house,
which, from its shattered and dilapidated windows, at first seemed to
be deserted, but which, from the description left by a messenger with
his domestic in the forenoon, he could not doubt was the place where he
heard the emigrant widow lay at the point of death.

"Is this where the sick woman is?" said he to an old woman who opened
the door.

"Yes, your reverence," answered Mrs. Doherty, at once recognizing the
priest; "and thank God you are come. The Lord never deserts his own,
praise be to his holy name."

"Is she very ill?" said Father O'Shane; for thus was named the sole
pastor of the city of T---- in those days.

"That she is, your reverence, and callin' for the priest this three
days; but as we heard your reverence say that you would be in the
country till this day, we thought it no use to give in the sick call
sooner. I myself gave it in this morning afore my poor, sick old man got
up."

"God help the poor!" muttered the tender-hearted priest, as he ascended
to the third floor, where the dying woman lay.

"Amen!" answered Mrs. Doherty, aloud. "You would pity her, your
reverence, if you seen the misery they are in this two months; and it is
easily telling they saw better days in the ould country. It is easily
knowing _that_, by the _dacent_, mannerly children she has around her,
God help 'em."

"Pax huic domui, et omnibus habitantibus in ea"--"Peace to this house,
and all that dwell therein," uttered the priest of God, as he opened
the latchless door of the room on the third story of the old "Oil Mill
House," where the patient was extended on her "pallet of straw." For a
moment he stood on the threshold, for within an unusual and solemn sight
presented itself to his view. A woman of fair and comely features,
between about thirty and forty years of age, lay as described on the
floor, with four children kneeling around her. The eldest, a lad of
about fifteen years, read aloud the litanies and prayers of the church
for the dying, while the three younger children repeated the responses
in fervent but trembling accents.

"Lord, have mercy on her," cried Paul, the eldest boy.

"Christ, have mercy on her," answered the younger children.

"Holy Mary." _R._ "Pray for her."

"All ye holy angels and archangels." _R._ "Pray for her."

"All ye choirs of the just." _R._ "Pray for her."

"All ye saints of God." _R._ "Make intercession for her."

"From thy anger, from an unhappy death, from the pains of hell." _R._
"Deliver her, O Lord."

"By thy cross and passion, by thy death and burial, by thy glorious
resurrection, in the day of judgment." _R._ "Deliver her, O Lord."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant from all danger of hell, and
from all pain and tribulation." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Enoch
and Elias from the common death of the world." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Noah from
the flood." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Abraham
from the midst of the Chaldeans." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Job from
all his afflictions." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Isaac
from being sacrificed by his father." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Lot from
Sodom and the flames of fire." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Moses
from the hands of Pharaoh, King of Egypt." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Daniel
from the lions' den." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst the three
children from the fiery furnace and from the hands of an unmerciful
king." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Susanna
from her false accusers." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst David
from the hands of Goliah and Saul." _R._ "Amen."

"Deliver, O Lord, the soul of thy servant, as thou deliveredst Peter
and Paul out of prison." _R._ "Amen."

"And as thou deliveredst that blessed virgin and martyr, St. Thecla,
from most cruel torments, so vouchsafe, O Lord, to deliver the soul of
this thy servant, and bring it to the participation of thy heavenly
joys." _R._ "Amen."

"Depart, Christian soul, out of this world, in the name of God, the
Father Almighty, who created thee; in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of
the living God, who suffered for thee; in the name of the Holy Ghost,
who sanctified thee; in the name of the angels, archangels, thrones and
dominations, cherubims and seraphims; in the name of the patriarchs and
prophets, of the holy martyrs and confessors, of the holy monks and
hermits, of the holy virgins, and of all the saints of God. Let thy
place be this day in peace, and thy abode in _Sion_, through Christ, our
Lord." _R_. "Amen."

The offering up of this most beautiful prayer by the children for their
dying parent was not unattended with several breaks and pauses, caused
by the overwhelming grief of the poor orphans. They "gave out" the short
prayers of the litany very well, and without much interruption; but when
they came to the more solemn portion of that beautiful service, the
"recommendation of a departing soul," they could no longer restrain
their tears or suppress their lamentations.

Small blame to the poor children for this manifestation of grief, since
we have known instances of the most hardened hearts being touched, and
the most manly eyes yielding their tribute of tears, at the bare recital
of the most beautiful form of prayer for the "soul departing." We have
ourselves read this service a thousand times, at least, by the death
bedsides of many "departing souls;" and never could we once go through
the form of it entire without yielding to the weakness of nature, and
becoming speechless by the violence of our tears. Let the most obstinate
unbeliever attend but a few times by the bedside of a dying Catholic,
and observe the piety and faith of the priest and people around the bed
of the "soul departing;" and if he be not an atheist or a blasphemer of
God's providence, it is impossible for him not to perceive the
superiority of the Catholic religion to all other forms of worship that
ever existed. But to be present at the death hour of a Christian is a
privilege which Protestants and unbelievers seldom or never enjoy; their
levity and want of devotion, with their impiety and irreverence, being
sufficiently powerful obstacles to their admittance into such sacred
places as the chamber in which the sacred offices of religion are
administered to the "departing soul." It is only the true believers, and
not "those outside," who have the privilege of hearing the "prayer of
faith" that saves the sick man--it is only they who enjoy occasionally
the consolation from the inspiring words of the church to join their
tears, and unite their sighs, sobs, and sorrows with those of their
pastors and fellow-Christians, for the happy passage and merciful
judgment for their departing brother. Such were the tears and sadness
that Paul O'Clery and his little attendants shed around the bed of
their dying mother.

"Paul, my child, why do you act so?" said she, gently chiding him.

"O mother! mother! how can I help it? Stop ye your crying there," said
he, taking courage, and turning to his younger associates. "Silence
Bridget, Patrick, and Eugene. Answer me distinctly, and hold your grief.
It will vex mother." And he continued the prayer from where he left off
with as good grace as he could.

The venerable priest, though inside the door, was unperceived during
this affecting scene; and the heavy tears might be seen stealing down
his furrowed cheeks as he surveyed the group before him.

"O, faith of my Lord, O, best gift of God, how precious thou art! Thou
canst change men into angels, earth into paradise, and convert the
misery and poverty of the poor emigrant into a picture like this, that
heaven itself must delight to gaze on. That's right, my darling son,"
said he, "you have finished well; you have done your duty towards your
mother, for which God will bless you, and I bless you in his name. In
nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."

"The priest, mother!" whispered Bridget. "I know him by his cloak."

"Glory, honor, and praise be to the Almighty," said the calm and now
rejoicing widow, as she saw the face of the venerable minister of
religion. "The Lord is too good to me, not to let me die in a strange
land, without the consolations of my holy religion," she continued,
kissing the silver crucifix of her beads.

The heart of the good man was too full to give utterance to many words;
and seeing that Death was at hand, that already he was master of all but
the heart,--for the extremes were cold and without feeling,--he ordered
the children down to Mrs. Doherty's, while he heard the short and humble
confession of the poor departing soul, administered the most holy
viaticum, with extreme unction, and read the last benediction of the
church--"In articulo mortis."

He then strengthened her soul with a few words of exhortation, and
having prescribed a few short, ejaculatory prayers, bidding her to have
the name, as well as the image, of Jesus ever in her heart and lips, he
departed, promising to call again as soon as possible, taking the
precaution to leave two dollars in silver and a three dollar bill on the
little stool that stood by her bed. He had now, he said, to go about
forty miles into the country; and he would, after his return, call to
see how she was, and to comply with her request about the children.

"I commend you now to the care of God and his angel. God bless you,"
said he, departing.

"Into thy hands I commend my spirit. O Lord, receive my soul. Jesus,
Jesus, Jesus, have mercy on me. O God of love, goodness, and mercy,
accept my imperfect thanksgiving; save my soul, redeemed by thy precious
blood, and make me worthy to see thy glory. I believe in thee, O Lord,
I hope in thee, and I love thee. O my God and my Lord, who am I that
thou shouldst visit me!"

With these and other fervent aspirations, this pure and exalted soul
prepared for the manifestation of the glory of her Lord, and sighed to
be dissolved, and to fly to the beatific vision that faith promised her,
and through the merits of Christ she expected to obtain. After this, the
symptoms of her disease became sensibly less dangerous than before the
visit of the priest; but this calm, this seeming relief, was only
temporary. Presently the impress of pale death was unmistakably settled
on her calm brow.

CHAPTER II.

GETTING THE MOTHER'S BLESSING.

When the priest departed from the precincts of "Oil Mill House," in
company with the impatient messenger that required his services in the
country, after a few words of encouragement and advice spoken to Paul,
Bridget, Patrick, and Eugene,--for so were widow O'Clery's children
named,--they returned to the bedside of their dying mother. Little
Bridget was the first to observe on the small bench by the bedside the
money left there by Father O'Shane.

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