The Backwater

Irish Jesuit Province

The BackwaterAuthor(s): Delia GleesonSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 61, No. 716 (Feb., 1933), pp. 101-106Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20513459 .

Accessed: 14/06/2014 13:36

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

.

Irish Jesuit Province is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Irish Monthly.

http://www.jstor.org

This content downloaded from 195.78.108.51 on Sat, 14 Jun 2014 13:36:09 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=ijp

http://www.jstor.org/stable/20513459?origin=JSTOR-pdf

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp


101

THE BACKWATER.

By DELTA GLEESON.

L IFE in a London slum is never monotonous, as Sheila McDermott found. The weeks and months

followed quickly on each other, and seemed to Sheila the sunniest of her sunny life. November slush, sleet and fog came and went unheeded, as she journeyed to and from the Blackwater, absorbed in the people, and radiant with the realisation of their steady transformation since the advent of regular Mass in the Hall. The religious instinct so long dormant was springing into life, toning and refining manners and customs. At times she almost felt a breath of Ireland, as they gathered around her after Mass; it was fleeting, often vague, but it was there. One or more of the women became unexpected a-postles.

Mrs. Cauley-Johanna-was delightful; under one pre text or another she was inducing the neighbourhood to emerge from their hitherto pa.gan darkness and obscurity and to profess their dormant faith on the bright pave

ment opposite the Hall. It was an auspicious occasion for the new war widows to proclaim their bereavement,

while displaying, at the same time, the elaborate and mournful trapping of their state. Johanna knew when and how to act. She could always count on the widows

in the first freshness of their finery, then, fearing defec tion, she would speak " the word in season" and in

reason. There was the poor man's soul to be considered, and the future of the children, and the only friend they had was Almighty God-and Miss McDermott. Thus diplomatically she kept adding to her disciples; Sheila was always ready with an open heart for them all.

The priest usually left immediately for his second Mass at the church; the women, after their greetings and a merry jest, would remember that they had left the

kettles to boil and hurry away, while Sheila, returning to the empty hall, would find herself singing at her work in sheer gladness of heart. The chapel of Sunday must

become a welfare centre for Monday.



102E TE IRISH MONTHLY

On the First Sunday in Advent, half an hour after Mass, she had been arranging the room, and looked aroundl to see that all was in order and safely tucked away, with a parting look at the altar, secluded behind its drawn curtains, whena the door opened softly and a familiar friendly voice greeted her triumphantly. it

was Mrs. Hughes, the outdoor collector; she who had rarely been inside a church since her school days, but had offered to help at that first meeting when the Bishop came to interview the women in response to their peti tion for Sunday Mass in the Hall. Her round smilinag face was always a welcome sight to Sheila; it told of practical persevering work. She had taken on her shoulders the responsibility of providing for the expenses of the little Mission through a weekl.y house to house collection of one penny, and it was marvellous what it had effected! That penny meant an act of faith to the individual, or at first merely a tribute to a dead relative.

who had been " Hirish and Cawklick, or a realisation of lost faith that unknowingly still glimmered', awaken ing long forgotten memories of mothers and grand

mothers, with their stories of old times and pious customs of those far off days in holy Ireland. Saturday afternoons brought Mrs. Hughes to their doors with her smile and her book, noting down benefactors to the

Mass, and a casual remark on its great blessing to the

neighbourhood, especially to those who could get there. This gradually suggested to the benefactor the idea of receiving the full benefit, with a desire of rising earlier on Sunday morning. The rest followed gradually; one woman brought another, the great war with its horrors did the rest.

This morning Mrs. Hughes had been down at the church, where the parish outdoor collectors, and their weekly contributions, were announced at the Ma-sses. Sitting erect, and with pardonable pride, she would listen to the amount from the despised Backwater, not iinfrequently heading the list, leaving the more pros

perous and pompous portions of the parish in the rear. She had an item of interest for Sheila this morning



THE BACKWATER 103

which made her sad and rather anxious. They were about to lose their parish priest, and his successor was to arrive through the week. Father N. knew and under stood them all so well in the Backwater; no one could ever, she feared, be quite the same. At least without a few mistakes and misconceptions at the outset, they

were inevitable, aind one must only be prepared. The new priest made his first appearance on the

following Sunday, and his sermon, simple for all to understand, was polished and pointed, more typical of the large West End churches than a hall in the Back

water. The congregation listened attentively as usual. and disbainded in silence at the end of Ma-ss. When Sheila called at the Presbytery she noticed that the housekeeper spoke of his Reverence as " Dr." with great unction, thus proclaiming his status. The Black water knew little of such fine distinctions; indeed, had anyone been so indiscreet as to call the priest " Dr." in Mrs. Rafferty's hearing, there would be prompt and effectual action. Drs. were reminiscent of infirmaries. dispensaries and relieving officers, and to term his Reverence anything but the priest Gawd bless 'im, would be considered mild blasphemy.

The following weeks were uneventful, his Reverence was decidedly reserved; in fact, what they would desig nate in a country parish in Clare or Tipperary, as "1 distenate." Sheila felt he was quietly studying his new parishioners, evidently a novel experience, while they at the moment were preparing for the expecte.d homecoming of many of the boys from the Front for the festive season.

Mrs. Hughes, in her first interview, had decided that the new priest was "1 all right "?; he had spoken out like herself, "' plain and pleasant "-her favourite expres sion-and she declared with her best smile that she was prepared to carry on her devoted work for the Back water.

On the Sunday morning before Christmas the Hall was packed for Mass, the usual congregation augmented by the soldiers, many mere lads, full of importance, witb



104 THE IRISH MONTHLY

the honours of heroes, and the joy of the homecoming welcomes greeting them at every step. His Reverence seized the opportunity to speak of the coming of the Divine Child, with all His graces and blessings, but especially of the dangers and temptations of those fes tive days. His predecessor, Father N., would have

merely alluded to the attractive occasions of sin in the neighbourhood, but not so the new priest; he hit out boldly, denouncing in -no measured terms the pitfalls

awaiting the unwary at their very doors, with an expres

sive wave of his arm towards the four public houses. The congregation were in:tent, carried away by the

eloquence and power of the preacher, as point after

point was brought to bear on the evil and degradation of intemperance, especially at the holy Christmas rejoicing.

Sheila thought she had never seen the people so

stirred. Her eyes fell on Mrs. Rafferty near the altar, her head bent, her whole figure expressive of profound meditation. As the sermon was drawing to the end, in al pleading, conversational tone: " Nowv when you see

someone whom you think has had enough, remind them in a friendly way that it is time to come home." Tho priest had come down to plain facts, determined that there should be no mistake. Evidently a member of

the congregation had, the like laudable intention, for a well known voice broke the intense silence:

"1 Si hit rite! Si hit rite! Let us.have one more

before they shut !" The preacher pulled up so abruptly, cried out im

patiently: "W What? What?" gazing with an amazed

glance over the congregation for the rude, daring culprit. This time there was no mistake in the admonishing tones, slow and clear for all to hear and understand:

"1 Si hit rite! Si hit rite! Let us have one more

Jefore they shut!" A sense of humour saved disaster. His Reverence

plaiyed up. " Well, then," he said, with a solemn tone but witlh

twinikling eyes, " Don't say let us have one more before



THE BACKWATER 105

they shut," and' in a brief peroration the priest suggested a new code of manners and customs to be observed in and towards certain houses of entertain ment in their midst. The episode was but an item of a moment, and evidently regarded by the congregation as according to ritual!

The last days before Christmas were full of plans for transforming the Hall into a, real chapel. The friends of the Mission all came with enthusiasm to assist. Sheila wa;s useful with a hammer and nails, or in arra,nging flowers, but was hopeless where deftness of finger and daintiness of touch was imperative. It was there that some of her friends' genaius shone, and she would look in addmiration at the wonders they wrought, while they

would gaze in consternation at her scaling of ladders and clever poising on giddy heights, risky but essential. The result was all that the weary workers hoped, and the final touches were left until Christmas Eve. In

consequence of the marvellous reports of the beauty of the chapel the Backwater bestirred itself. They were all "C Cawklick " for Christmas night, all longing for Midnight Mass. As the hour drew near it seemed as if the whole population was in the streets. The children

were gathered around the door waiting with eagerness for the first glimpse of the chapel.

At the approach of midnight a sudden silence settled down on the neighbourhood, and the people began filing into the Hall with low murmurs of wonder and' admira tion.

The chapel seemed framed in evergreens, the altar being, set in a woodland glade with coloured lights twinkling overhead among the trees. The priest, as he entered, stood for a moment as if amazed a-t the unex

pected scene. The beauty of the altar and the crude congr egation seemed a unique combination, startling yet uplifting, as if the kings and the shepherds had met and mingled at the mystic hour, not in the little eastern town among the hills, but in another Bethlehem in the heart of the greatest empire of the world!

As she was waiting for Mass to begin, Sheila thought



106 THE IRISH MONTHLY

of those who had laboured for years just to see this hour; while darkness and disappointment had been 'their only reward; she had come to reap the fruits of their heroism.

Dear old Sister Mary had taught in this little school for thirty years, and at her death recently had held' out but scant hope for those who would follow. Now at last the dawn seemed breaking! The brawls, and blas

phemies, and degradationas of former Christmas Eves were silenced and atoned for by this :night.

The first Midnight Mlass in this once hallowed English hamlet for almost four hundred years!

CRUX CHRISTI.

Hail, Cross, thou latest hope of fallen man, Hail, thou disgrace and shame of this proud world!

When he has moved o'er this life's fleeting span, The wanderer welcomes thy new flag unfurled.

Though many scorn thee and reject thy sway, Though multitudes thy peace have never known,

To some thou bringest rest upon their way, To those who thy dominion love and own

Thou art a glory and a fair delight, Thou art the measure of each thought and fact;

In thee is truth, salvation, and the right, In thee is contemplation, love, and act.

All things converge, unite on Calvary's hill, There Christ bends low to do the Father's Will.

EDWARD JAMES SCHUSTER.



Documents

The Backwater