body.’
‘I do not know, indeed, why we troubled our heads about the matter at all,’ said the man in black; ‘but when you talk about perverting the meaning of the text, you speak ignorantly, Mr. Tinker. When He whom you call the Saviour gave His followers the sop and bade them eat it, telling them it was His body, He delicately alluded to what it was incumbent upon them to do after His death, namely, to eat His body.’
‘You do not mean to say that He intended they should actually eat His body?’
‘Then you suppose ignorantly,’ said the man in black; ‘eating the bodies of the dead was a heathenish custom, practised by the heirs and legatees of people who left property, and this custom is alluded to in the text.’
‘But what has the New Testament to do with heathen customs,’ said I, ‘except to destroy them?’
‘More than you suppose,’ said the man in black. ‘We priests of Rome, who have long lived at Rome, know much better what the New Testament is made of than the heretics and their theologians, not forgetting their Tinkers, though I confess some of the latter have occasionally surprised us—for example, Bunyan. The New Testament is crowded with allusions to heathen customs, and with words connected with pagan sorcery. Now, with respect to words, I would fain have you who pretend to be a philologist, tell me the meaning of Amen?’
I made no answer.
‘We of Rome,’ said the man in black, ‘know two or three things of which the heretics are quite ignorant. For example, there are those amongst us—those, too, who do not pretend to be philologists—who know what “amen” is, and, moreover, how we got it. We got it from our ancestors, the priests of ancient Rome; and they got the word from their ancestors of the East, the priests of Buddh and Brahma.’
‘And what is the meaning of the word?’ I demanded.
‘ “Amen,” ’ said the man in black, ‘is a modification of the old Hindoo formula, Omani batsikhom, by the almost ceaseless repetition of which the Indians hope to be received finally to the rest or state of forgetfulness of Buddh or Brahma. A foolish practice, you will say, but are you heretics much wiser, who are continually sticking amen to the end of your prayers, little knowing when you do so that you are consigning yourselves to the repose of Buddh? Oh, what hearty laughs our missionaries have had when comparing the eternally sounding Eastern gibberish of Omani batsikhom, Omani batsikhom, and the Ave Maria and Amen Jesus of our own idiotical devotees.’
‘I have nothing to say about the Ave Marias and Amens of your superstitious devotees,’ said I; ‘I dare say that they use them nonsensically enough, but in putting amen to the end of a prayer we merely intend to express, “So let it be.” ’
‘It means nothing of the kind,’ said the man in black, ‘and the Hindoos might just as well put your national oath at the end of their prayers, as perhaps they will after a great many thousand years, when English is forgotten, and only a few words of it remembered by dim tradition without being understood. How strange if, after the lapse of four thousand years, the Hindoos should damn themselves to the blindness so dear to their present masters, even as their masters at present consign themselves to the forgetfulness so dear to the Hindoos. But my glass has been empty for a considerable time, perhaps, Bellissima Biondina,’ said he, addressing Belle, ‘you will deign to replenish it?’
‘I shall do no such thing,’ said Belle, ‘you have drank quite enough, and talked more than enough, and to tell you the truth, I wish you would leave us alone.’
‘Shame on you, Belle!’ said I; ‘consider the obligations of hospitality.’
‘I am sick of that word,’ said Belle; ‘you are so frequently misusing it. Were this place not Mumpers’ Dingle, and consequently as free to the fellow as ourselves, I would lead him out of it.’
‘Pray be quiet, Belle,’ said I. ‘You had better help yourself,’ said I, addressing myself to the man in black; ‘the lady is angry with you.’
‘I am sorry for it,’ said the man in black. ‘If she is angry with me, I am not so with her, and shall be always proud to wait upon her; in the meantime I will wait upon myself.’
CHAPTER IV
THE PROPOSAL—THE SCOTCH NOVEL—LATITUDE—MIRACLES—PESTILENT HERETICS—OLD FRASER—WONDERFUL TEXTS—NO ARMENIAN
The man in black having helped himself to some more of his favourite beverage and tasted it, I thus addressed him: ‘The evening is getting rather advanced, and I can see that this lady,’ pointing to Belle, ‘is anxious for her tea, which she prefers to take cosily and comfortably with me in the dingle. The place, it is true, is as free to you as to ourselves, nevertheless, as we are located here by necessity, whilst you merely come as a visitor, I must take the liberty of telling you that we shall be glad to be alone as soon as you have said what you have to say, and have finished the glass of refreshment at present in your hand. I think you said some time ago that one of your motives for coming hither was to induce me to enlist under the banner of Rome. I wish to know whether that was really the case.’
‘Decidedly so,’ said the man in black; ‘I come here principally in the hope of enlisting you in our regiment, in which I have no doubt you could do us excellent service.’
‘Would you enlist my companion as well?’ I demanded.
‘We should be only too proud to have her among us, whether she comes with you or alone,’ said the man in black, with a polite bow to Belle.
‘Before we give you an answer,’ I replied, ‘I would fain know more about you; perhaps you will declare your name?’
‘That I will never do,’ said the man in black; ‘no one in England knows it but myself, and I will not declare it, even in a dingle; as for the rest, Sono un Prete Cattolico Appostolico—that is all that many a one of us can say for himself, and it assuredly means a great deal.’
‘We will now proceed to business,’ said I. ‘You must be aware that we English are generally considered a self-interested people.’
‘And with considerable justice,’ said the man in black, drinking. ‘Well, you are a person of acute perception, and I will presently make it evident to you that it would be to your interest to join with us. You are at present, evidently, in very needy circumstances, and are lost, not only to yourself, but the world; but should you enlist with us, I could find you an occupation not only agreeable, but one in which your talents would have free scope. I would introduce you in the various grand houses here in England, to which I have myself admission, as a surprising young gentleman of infinite learning, who by dint of study has discovered that the Roman is the only true faith. I tell you confidently that our popish females would make a saint, nay a God of you; they are fools enough for anything. There is one person in particular with whom I should wish to make you acquainted, in the hope that you would be able to help me to perform good service to the holy see. He is a gouty old fellow, of some learning, residing in an old hall near the great western seaport, and is one of the very few amongst the English Catholics possessing a grain of sense. I think you could help us to govern him, for he is not unfrequently disposed to be restive, asks us strange questions—occasionally threatens us with his crutch; and behaves so that we are often afraid that we shall lose him, or rather, his property, which he has bequeathed to us, and which
