The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [425]
Studs looked up, and saw high above him the extended right hand of the priest, and he wanted them to know it was a joke, but they didn’t even listen to him when he told them.
“In nomine Pa—” the priest made the sign of the cross, “—tris et Fi—” again he made the sign of the cross, “—lii et Spiritus—” and again his fingers traced the cross in the air, “—Sancti, extinguatur ..”
The three kneeling women looked into the prayer book, reading in slow and frightened words that mingled with the priest’s solemn Latin.
“Remember not, O Lord! our offences, nor those of our parents! and take not revenge for our sins.
“O Lord! rebuke me not in Thy indignation, nor chastise me in Thy wrath.
“Have mercy on me, O Lord! for I am weak; heal me, O Lord! for all my bones are troubled.
“And my soul is troubled exceedingly! but Thou, O Lord! how long?
“Turn to me, O Lord/ and deliver my soul; oh, save me for Thy mercy’s sake!
“For there is no one in death, that is mindful of Thee; and who shall confess to Thee in hell?”
And the priest with his right hand over the suffering head of Studs Lonigan, an intense pride in his ascetic features, slowly intoned.
“Patriarcharum, Prophetarum, A postolorum, Martyrum, Confessorum, Virginum, atque omnium simul Sanctorum. Amen.”
And the priest dipped his thumb into the holy oil, while the window curtain moved slightly and the three bystanders bent their heads toward the prayer book in Mrs. Lonigan’s hand. The nurse recited the Psalms without conviction in her voice, thinking that he would die soon, wondering, drowsy and tired, would she get all her pay. Mrs. Lonigan and Catherine recited with fervor, fear and piety in their faces, struck with awe and wonder by the un-understood Latin and the mystery of the sacrament which would save their beloved from the fires of Hell.
“Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered.”
“Blessed .. .”
“Per istam sanctam Unctio”—the priest administered the Unction on the closed eyelids of Studs Lonigan in the form of a cross,—”nem, et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominus quidquid per visum deliquisti. Amen.”
“I have acknowledged my sin to Thee; and my injustice I have not concealed,” the three bystanders intoned.
The priest wiped his thumb with a fresh ball of cotton, and dropped the cotton onto an empty saucer. Mrs. Lonigan watched as he again dipped his thumb into the oil, and she thought that her son might once have been such a man, a priest, bringing solace and strength to the dying, and she saw him not on the death bed, but as the priest, reciting the Latin words, bending over one whose soul was flying.
“Per istam sanctam .. “
And Studs Lonigan lay half in coma, mumbling to himself only of sleep and escape from the aching tiredness that was like a river flowing in his body, while the priest anointed his ears in the form of a cross.
“For Thy arrows are fastened to me, and Thy hand hath been strong upon me.”
“There is no health in my flesh, because of Thy wrath.”
“Quidquid per auditum deliquisti. Amen.”
The Latin words, the recited Psalms, were disturbing noises in Studs’ ears, and he lay restlessly, his breathing coming with clicking noises, thinking over and over again how it was a joke for them to think of him dying, and would they only hurry up, go away, let him sleep. And next week he would be back in Sister Bertha’s class at St. Patrick’s telling kids in the class about how he had fooled them all by not dying at all, and he could hear Lucy Scanlan praying for him, and he would tell her, too,