The Backwater

Irish Jesuit Province

The BackwaterAuthor(s): Delia GleesonSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 60, No. 712 (Oct., 1932), pp. 623-630Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20513369 .

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623

THE BACKWATER.

By DELIA GLEESON.

EMMED in on three sides-by a gas factory, a railway goods-yard, and a brewery-the Back

water is a cil-de-sac connected by a lane with a main road running parallel to the Thames. At the entrance stands a large public-house, one of four, which are at once the paradise and the hell of the neighbour hood.

Not so many years ago a pretty little village occupied this outlying part of London. "c The Crown " was the inn, the Manor House, now a soup kitchen, stood not far off with its pleasant gardens sloping down to the river. All that disappeared with the inroad of commerce. The factory, the railroad, and the brewery meant toil, toil meant men, and men meant homes. So a few streets

were opened and houses were hurriedly built, and in this congested area, it is said, two thousand Irishmen

were once in residence. Bad times had driven them to England, and the new works, and the good wages attracted them hither. They were full of fervour, and helped to build the new parish church more than a mile down the main road. In the course of time the better element moved away; those who remained kept up the earlier traditions, but as years passed, intermarriages with the Cockneys did not improve the rising genera tion. Gradually they became Catholic only in name, and the distance from the church, served as an excuse for non-attendance, even on Sundays.

That a remnant of the Faith should still exist, was due to the crude little infant school, with its lessons and influences, and the daily coming and going of the two nuns, with their atmosphere of cheerfulness and peace, and their unswerving devotion to their noble work for souls. To many it must have seemed a futile labour, and wanton waste of energy, the long distance from the convent, in wind and weather, sunshine and suow.



624 THE IRISH MONTHLY

Learned men, and women so called, sought to close it tlhrougf,h the County Council, but "C the best laid plans of men and mice gang aft aglee," and the little school held up its head, and when least expected, its justifica tion in the Divine plan was made manifest.

A simple young, Irish priest coming from the land where the Paith radiated, saw the situation as he entered the lane one afternoogi-the darkness, and the chill, and the want of the Divine fire which had been the sunshine of his life was overwhelming. He was onaly a passing stranger, but blood will tell-those people that he saw around him were once as he, or

would have been at that moment, were they not driven by misfortune into sucehl surroundings. Why not give them a hand as was the mranner of his people -at home?

How to open their eyes, and stir their blood, and warm their hearts with the love of God and His holy Mother,

was the thought that consumed him in the days that foillowed.

He had but time to call others to his aid, fire them with his ardour, and pass on. His work in the Back water was done, for this had he come, to kindle the embers that others might fan the blaze.

Two months later came the first Mass in the hall the work had begun-the Great War hurried matters

with a lurid precipitancy. It came in a day, with a

call to arms, sooQn to be followed by death and disaster. The sound of distant guns across the sea, the cry of terror duringf the Zeppelin raids, with the horrors of crashing bombs in the night. In the hours of anguish and helplessness, the Backwater turned to God, the Sunday Mass became the sunshine of the week; war work claimed the energies of social workers, hitherto absorbed by the needs of souls, so that Sheila McDer

mott had to carry on with what help was available for special calls. It but drew her more to the Backwater and its people, she became as one of them. Coming out of the hall one Saturday afternoon, having arranged the altar for the morrow's Mass, she remembered a promised call on one of the mothers, who particularly



THE BACKWATER 625

wished to see her. Mrs. Cauley, known to the neigh bours as Johanna, was hard-working, shrewd, and prosperous, with, as she said, little time to pray, but determined that her thlree boys should never miss their Mass,iaor the Catholic school whatever the distance. With the advent of Sheila, and the war, and now her husband in dally danger at the Front, matters had become serious. There were few Sundays that prayers were not asked during Mass for one or other of the " boys "' killed through the week, or dying in ,some hos

pital, and they were all there around the altar, very earnest and grateful for the comfort and help of the

Faith they had never lost, but now valued as a special

blessing in the hour of trial. Mrs. Cauley was large in heart and person, and her desire to see Sheila was to

interest her in a friend in trouble. As she entered the cottage a figure stood in the doorway, a woman with dark hair and eyes, that once must have been beautiful; a good-humoured look on the face was now its one re deeming feature. Johanna introduced the newcomer as Mrs. Rafferty, whom Sheila had not hitherto met, but of whom she had heard imuch. Her appearance on the scene was an appeal for her girl Kitty, now leaving school, with an urgent desire to get her away at once. Johanna seemed to understand the case, while Kitty's

mother glanced across at Sheila, her dark eyes gleam ing with mocking drollery. The prospect of taking a girl out of the Backwater was delightful, and Sheila requested how soon she might have her. " As soon as you can put your hands on her, she can't stay with me." Mrs. Rafferty smiled at Mrs. Cauley to corro borate her statement, and both women shook their heads sagaciously. Promising to attend to the matter at once, Sheila smiled her adieu. In discussing questions with "c Little Sister " at the school next day, she spoke of

Mrs. Rafferty's wishes with regard to her daughter. Sister Imelda looked astonished. " If you can get Kitty away you will be doing wonders, but why her mother consents to give her up puzzles me. "I Then after

a moment's consideration she added, "Oh! I think I




understand. Mrs. Rafferty may be sent away, and Kitty

cannot be left in charge of the younger children now that the two boys are at the Front. The Relieving

Officer here is an important person, always appearing in a tall hat, and the people hate him. Mrs. Rafferty

certainly does not love him, and they have many

skirmishes. Last week was the climax, she hit out, dethroning the tall hat, which was badly battered, which delighted her heart. She may be sent to jail, but she

cares nought; for this time her shortcomings have the sympathy of the neighbourhood." Sheila was amused, and rather interested in her new woman. " Is her hus

band at the war "'? she asked. Sister Imelda looked sad. " He has been dead for some years. The best man

in the place. Why he married such a woman has always astonished me, but she has an undoubted charm which you will soon find."

" She does not seem a St. Paul's widow," Sheila

murmured with a grim smile. " It is your mission to make her such." And the

holy eyes of Little Sister sparkled with amusement. On her way home Sheila met the parish priest, and

was about to speak of Mrs. Rafferty when he exclaimed: " Never say a word against her. I forgive her for all

she has ever done for treating that man as he deserved.

He has been so cruel to those poor people,"I and he

entered with much interest in her project to send Kitty to a well-known convent on the Sussex Downs for

domestic training. She was to be in charge of a friend

in the Community, a Religious who never failed her in every emergency. Kitty was but one of many taken

from crowded towns and tenements to be turned into proficient maids, and competent mothers, who regarded and loved! their devoted teacher more than many a

mother! It was returning from seeing the transformed Kitty,

one lovely morning in April, that coming down the hill, from the Convent, and looking out across the valley,

with all its spring verdure and loveliness, she thought of the women in the Backwater, and longed to have



TH-E BACKWATER 627

them all around her. She spoke to one of the workers

on her return, and was met with the practical sug gestion, why not take them for a day's retreat to the

Convent, and thus combine pleasure and profit-a most desirable preparation for their Easter duty! Sheila hailed the idea as an inspiration, and they set at once

to get the project on foot.

The joy of taking them all away, to think and to see

other thiugs beside food and drink and the children, and to leave the drudgery behind for one whole day.

On one of those soft hazy mornings in spring, when the

call of the country comes so strongly in London, Sheila awoke with a Joyous anticipation of the day's outing with the women. She had secured two omnibuses-no one knew how-in those difficult war times to take them to the Convent. The mothers had vague ideas of what she termmed a " retreat," but decided comfortably, that a long drive to the country, a nice dinner and tea in

the garden, was a desirable prospect, and for the rest, as Mrs. Carmody said amiably, "Let Miss McDermott please herself about the name "!

Their exit from the Backwater was hilarious, their drive throughi London exalted, their arrival at the Con vent the perfection of welcomes; but being escorted to the Chapel, for a lecture on the end of their creation, a-nd the reality of their souls, was a surprise!

As they trailed about the trim gardens, or looked at the cows in the golden noon-day heat, they were sum

moned to another discourse on sin! But when the Father announced placidly that he would hear confes sions, matters began to look serious.

An excellent dinner diverted their spiritual per plexities at this juncture.

Coming from the Refectory Mrs. Rafferty saw Sheila in the distance with one of the nuns, and shadowed her. Silence was no longer tolerable. " You are hartful! " And the beautiful dark eyes tried to glower, but the drollery broke through. "' Bringin' us out for a scur risoon, an' now hits C:onfession no less !" And she pursed up her lips in evident anxiety.




" Yes, are you not going?" Sheila smiled seraphic

ally. "Are you?" And the woman looked menacing. Sheila had not anticipated this duty to-day, but she was equal to the occasion. "Certainly! Come along, we will lead the way," and before there was time for more

Mrs. Rafferty was kneeling beside the box, to the amazement of the beholders. Sheila at her side, heed less of the sensation and its undoubted effect. The crisis had passed, the day was won! Towards the after noon they came to her in groups, expressing their feel ings.

" It was just grand. The Father, was all right; they

'ad to cry, an' the way le talked to 'em. They was all

so 'appy. They would never neglect the Sacraments so long again."I

A bountiful tea, confirmed such admirable resolutions, and with thie echoes of the last sermon on Heaven ring ing in their ears, they droove away, convinced that it

had been a very pleasant and profitable experience, and they would rather enjoy it again.

They disbanded in the lane with warm words of fare well, and virtuous promises to be up in good time in the morning for the special Mass said in the hall expressly for their convenience. Sheila could certainly count on that, they assured her.

She did, to find on her arrival at the Chapel only old Mrs. Shaw and a few other faithful souls! Through the open door Sheila looked down the street hopefully, but there was as little sign of life in the Backwater as if it

had been dawn, though now almost on the stroke of eight, when the priest was expected. In an instant Sheila had decided on desperate measures. These women must be aroused. Seizing the tiny sanctuary bell she rushed out into the silent streets, ringing vigorously, its sweet silvery tones penetrating closed doors and windows. As she sped along she pulled sus pended strings lifting familiar door latches, and flying iup rickety stairs, would call to startled, slumbering recreants. Turning a corner she knew well a window

was suddenly flung up, and on the still morn'ing air



THE BACKWATER G29

rang out the dreaded cry " Hair Raid! Take Cover !"

Sheila raised her eyes, and never before had she fully realised Mrs. Rafferty's undoubted charm. Her face and hair were unusually clean and neat, her eyes danc

ing with drollery, as she met Sheila's upward glance of indignation and reproof. "; That'll fetch 'em!1" And her laugh of enjoyment was irresistible. Even as she spoke, hurrying footsteps echoed on the pavement, fly ing figures rushed round corners, flinging on coats and shawls as they ran. Sheila realised that her work was

done, and returned to the Chapel where she found a

devout assembly of women, looking as if the seeds of yesterday's unexpected sowing had blossomed with un toward vigour.

Even when Mrs. Rafferty stood in the door-way sur veying their edifying demeanour and remarked on the efficacy of her own lungs, no one seemed impressed, or the least distracted.

The Father's arrival was most opportune, and his face betrayed complete satisfaction as his eyes fell on the kneeling reverent congregation. At the conclusion of the Mass, as if compelled by the unwonted occurrence, he said: "c I hope your experience of yesterday will be but the beginning of many another. It is well to turn

away from the crowd, and in peaceful pious surround ings to ask ourselves for what reason we were sent into this world and where are we going when we leave it.

Your daily lives are so full of toils, and tbionights of

this world, that there is little time to think of the next,

but a day such as yesterday will show you that we are

all but lodgers on this earth, tramping along the royal road of the Cross to our true home in Heaven."

The mothers lingered when all was over, forgetting for once the boiling kettles slung over the fire, awaiting their return for the delayed breakfasts of the school children, all were so unusually slow and solemn that

morning, and Sheila kneeling in her corner felt someone

touch her, and a voice whispered in her ear, " It's hawll

right, an' wonderful. I 'ad no distressin' forbodins."




Looking round, there stood Mrs. Carmody, one broad smile of patronage.

Dear old Mrs. Shaw, leaning on her stick, waited for the last, that she might have a word. Looking towards the altar she cried "The Lord has heard my prayer after all these years, and from this morning I have nothing more to ask. Didn't I always say you came to

us for something good, thanks be to the Great God an' His holy Mother !'

AWAKENING.

Dearest, time was when I could dream with the rose,

And light the fire of my heart from a flower new-blown;

Burn in the golden noons, be quenched in their close;

Languish in adoration at the throne

Of the red western sun; weep for a cloud

Draining of glory over a dreaming sea.

Dearest, time was when, vanquished, I could be proud,

In the pride of the storm and the wind's wild ecstasy;

Proud in the thronging of the shining hours, Down to the sweet wide earth with retinue,

Of sun and moon and stars and songs and flowers.

Time was-Dreams! . . . Years of dream !-I woke to you,

To you and wisdom, out of years, in a day

And God had made perfect the universe in your heart, And Love had noozed earth's beauty and shut it away

In your eyes, in your lovely eyes, 0 Heart of my heart!

E. N. J. O'BoYLE.



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The Backwater