Atrocities Vs. Catholics

[ICTHUS]

So I have to write this short story for English, and my English teacher, knowing that I take my Catholic faith seriously, suggested that I write it on a fictional version of Vatican politics and papal succession, etc...

However, I have a better idea.

I'm sick and frickin tired of all the movies and media producing anti-Catholic movies that glorify the Protestant Reformation (i.e. "Luther" and The Order) and people talking carp about the Spanish inquisition that never happened.

So here's what I propose to do. I'll write a story about the persecution of Catholics that occured at the hands of Oliver Cromwell in Ireland, or of Catholics in the Netherlands at the hands of the Dutch Deformers, or in England at the hands of the Anglican Church.

But I need the dirt. Can someone dig up historical accounts of what some of the "Reformers" did?

God bless,

Ryan

[foundsheep]

Thats the ticket Bro. :D

[ICTHUS]

Anyone? It's due on Monday, and its now Saturday. I need some websites, etc..that talk about specific stories of martyrdom or persecution, specifically, in Ireland.

[littleflower+JMJ]

i don't know much but i can pray!

don't give up!! email ironmonk or somethign!!!

i give you props for having to be in that situation that your in...

fight the good fight and stay steadfast in the truth!!

God bless and many prayers your way for school!!

+JMJ

~flowery~

[littleflower+JMJ]

do you think in the debate area would get more answers?

dont give up!! you can do it :D

ask st. thomas more, st. don bosco and st. anthony to help you!

and the HOly Spirit to guide you!!

works everytime for me!! B) :D

[ICTHUS]

Just to clarify, my English teacher is NOT anti-Catholic, although I go to an Anglican school.

But he suggested that, because I am Catholic, and make no secret of my faith, that I incorporate my faith into the story somehow.

So, on that note, here's what I've written thus far.

Telll me what you think!!

Ahem!

*********

The morning sun had just risen over Dublin’s musty slum district.

In a small, dilapidated house on the corner of O’Riley and Killarney lane, Sean Flannery sat up in his bed, made the Sign of the Cross over himself, and began to pray the Our Father, followed by a decade of the Rosary. He then prayed earnestly for his wife, who was in the next room (lest she pass her sickness to him) suffering from a raging fever, as well as his children, who had already departed for the schoolhouse, where they had, of late, been suffering abuses by their staunchly Presbyterian schoolmaster.

Sinead, his youngest daughter, aged only six, had come home complaining about how the man had caned her across the arm, and scolded her for her “Popish superstitions” because she had crossed herself after one of her schoolmates had taken the Name of the Lord in vain – she had been struck and scolded by the schoolmaster, whilst the boy had received naught but a warning (albeit, a stern one) for his blasphemy.

Patrick, his son, at fifteen, had received no such abuse – yet. Sean thought to himself for a moment as for a reason, and concluded that the boy was a big lad, and that it was not as easy to pick on him as it was in the case of little Sinead.

He got out of bed, and went over to his closet, and began to dress himself for work. He then went quickly into his wife, Kathleen’s room, and looked at her pityingly. She was sick inDouche, and looked as though she were nearly at deaths door.

He thought about calling on Father O’Riordan, their priest, for her, and decided that he would call in to the aging priest (who was in hiding due to the tyrant Henry VIII making it illegal to be a priest in Ireland) on his way home from work.

Risking infection, he entered her room and knelt at her bedside, kissing his wife on the lips before he left, which elicited from her a weak smile, even through her pain due to the fever.

"Gráim thú"*(1) she managed, weakly smiling and reverting to her native Gaelic, the language they spoke in their most private and intimate conversations.

"I love you too, Kathleen. May Christ keep you safe until I return from work", replied Sean, fighting to keep from crying himself as he saw his wife suffering.

*thats all so far* Questions? Comments? Criticisms?

*1 Gráim thú = I love you, in Irish Gaelic.

Edited October 25, 2003 by ICTHUS

[littleflower+JMJ]

i loved it *sniff that is amesome .....

i read it like i felt what they were going thru....and knew them...

wow amesome stuff....

[foundsheep]

:D Im clapping very loud , you just cant hear. That was great, can I save it and print,with your permission of course?

[ICTHUS]

Yeah, so long as YOU dont submit it for an English assignment...

Seriously though, where should I go from here. I need concrete examples of persecution of Catholics that went on in Ireland during the 16th Century. HOW were they persecuted.

I'm thinking that Sean will work in some kind of mundane job, like in a factory or something. Anyone got any suggestions?

Also, does the kind of harsh treatment that the schoolmaster subjected the girl to (Sinead) seem historically accurate, or did I blow it out of proportion for the region and the time. I know that the Dutch "Reformers" hanged Catholic priests, however, I dont know if persecution in Ireland was nearly as bloody or violent?

Edited October 25, 2003 by ICTHUS

[ICTHUS]

Also, does the Gaelic actually add anything to the story, or add to the atmosphere, or anything? Cuz Im thinking it might make for some confusion if I have to add a superscript and a footnote at the end translating it.

[ICTHUS]

Sigh...I could really use some help here. Anyone Irish?

[cmotherofpirl]

Do you have a copy howe the irish saved civilization?

[ICTHUS]

No, I dont...who's it by and whats it about?

[Mateo el Feo]

Here are some links to some martyrs:

Forty Martyrs (Link)

Three specific saints' links:

Saint Edmund Campion, SJ (Link)

Saint John Southworth (Link)

Saint Edmund Arrowsmith, SJ (Link)

Unfortunately, there are plenty more martyrs.

God bless you,

Mateo

[ICTHUS]

Okies, update.

This is gonna be WAY over my word limit (800-1000 words)

The morning sun had just risen over Dublin’s musty slum district.

In a small, dilapidated house on the corner of O’Riley and Killarney lane, Sean Flannery sat up in his bed, made the Sign of the Cross over himself, and began to pray the Our Father, followed by a decade of the Rosary. He then prayed earnestly for his wife, who was in the next room (lest she pass her sickness to him) suffering from a raging fever, as well as his children, who had already departed for the schoolhouse, where they had, of late, been suffering abuses by their staunchly Presbyterian schoolmaster.

Sinead, his youngest daughter, aged only six, had come home complaining about how the man had caned her across the arm, and scolded her for her “Popish superstitions” because she had crossed herself after one of her schoolmates had taken the Name of the Lord in vain – she had been struck and scolded by the schoolmaster, whilst the boy had received naught but a warning (albeit, a stern one) for his blasphemy.

Patrick, his son, at fifteen, had received no such abuse – yet. Sean thought to himself for a moment as for a reason, and concluded that the boy was a big lad, and that it was not as easy to pick on him as it was in the case of little Sinead.

He got out of bed, and went over to his closet, and began to dress himself for work. He then went quickly into his wife, Kathleen’s room, and looked at her pityingly. She was sick inDouche, and looked as though she were nearly at deaths door.

He thought about calling on Father O’Riordan, their priest, for her, and decided that he would call in to the aging priest (who was in hiding due to the tyrant Henry VIII making it illegal to be a priest in Ireland) on his way home from work.

Risking infection, he entered her room and knelt at her bedside, kissing his wife on the lips before he left, which elicited from her a weak smile, even through her pain due to the fever.

"Gráim thú"(1) she managed, weakly smiling and reverting to her native Gaelic, the language they spoke in their most private and intimate conversations.

"I love you too, Kathleen. May Christ keep you safe until I return from work",

replied Sean, fighting to keep from crying himself as he saw his wife suffering.

Fighting back his tears, and with a gnawing fear growing in his stomach that his wife was going to die unless he could obtain some of the chemists concoction that was so effective at fighting off the particularly virulent strain of flu that was circulating Ireland, he set off to a dark, dingy factory – a factory, that, of all things, manufactured weaponry for the English Army.

Passing by the Marketplace, Sean noticed a large bulletin attached to a stake driven into the ground. He approached, and read what was written there, on a piece of yellowed parchment, to his horror:

BY ORDER OF OLIVER CROMWELL, LORD PROTECTOR OF ENGLAND, PRACTICE OF THE ROMAN CATHOLIC RELIGION IS PROHIBITED UNDER PAIN OF DEATH. ANYONE FOUND TO BE PUBLICLY PARTICIPATING IN WORSHIP IN A ROMISH CHURCH SHALL BE EXECUTED FORTHWITH. ANY ROMISH PRIESTS THAT SHALL BE FOUND SHALL BE DEPORTED, AND IF THEY BE FOUND SAYING MASSES, HEARING CONFESSIONS, OR OTHERWISE OFFICIATING, THEY SHALL BE KILLED.

FURTHERMORE, TWO THIRDS OF THE LAND BELONGING TO ALL ROMAN CATHOLICS SHALL BE SEIZED AND HANDED OVER TO THE ARMIES OF CROMWELL, EXCEPTING THAT THE AFOREMENTIONED SHALL CONVERT TO THE PRESBYTERIAN RELIGION. ALL CITIES AND TOWNS IN IRELAND SHALL BE PLACED UNDER THE MILITARY CONTROL OF LORD CROMWELL AND HIS OFFICERS. FAILURE TO OBEY ANY AND ALL OF THEIR DIRECTIVES WILL RESULT IN DEATH.

Sean’s knees went weak, and his heart skipped a beat. He felt the blood drain out of his face and he nearly collapsed to the ground. All thought of going to his work left him, as he spinned around in the opposite direction and ran back in the direction of his home, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. As he ran he heard soldiers marching into the city and muskets firing. Soon, he began to see plumes of thick black smoke appear as the first of the soldiers became visible, faces almost emotionless. They ignored him, however, and continued on a rampage of destruction, taking lighted torches and setting alight houses and shops and whatever dwellings were within their sight.

Something caught his eye as he ran. Pillars of smoke began to rise up from buildings everywhere, as people ran out of burning buildings. He passed the small church, St. Patricks, where he and his family worshipped every Sunday – it, too, was ablaze. He quickly changed directions, sprinting over to the blazing church and peering inside.

Almost immediately, he heard the shouts of an old man who was trapped inside the church.

“Help!!” cried the voice, obviously in terror.

“Hullo there! Who is it” yelled Sean, through the crackling flames, the smoke searing his eyes.

”It’s Seamus…uh…Father O’Riordan! Who’s there!?”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” exclaimed Sean, “It’s Sean Flannery, here, Father! Are you hurt? Can you get out of the flames?”

“God be praised, it’s Sean Flannery! I always knew that Our Lord was doing a good work in you, my son! But I don’t know if I can get out of this blaze!”, coughed the old priest, breathing in the smoke.