A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and Dubliners - James Joyce [193]
-But we mustn’t be late, said Mr Power earnestly, because it is sure to be crammed to the doors.
—We can meet at half-seven, said Mr M’Coy.
—Righto! said Mr Cunningham.
—Half-seven at M’Auley’s be it!
There was a short silence. Mr Kernan waited to see whether he would be taken into his friends’ confidence. Then he asked:
—What’s in the wind?
—0, it’s nothing, said Mr Cunningham. It’s only a little matter that we’re arranging about for Thursday.
-The opera, is it? said Mr Kernan.
-No, no, said Mr Cunningham in an evasive tone, it’s just a little ... spiritual matter.
—0, said Mr Kernan.
There was silence again. Then Mr Power said, point blank:
—To tell you the truth, Tom, we’re going to make a retreat.acl
—Yes, that’s it, said Mr Cunningham, Jack and I and M’Coy here—we’re all going to wash the pot.
He uttered the metaphor with a certain homely energy and, encouraged by his own voice, proceeded:
—You see, we may as well all admit we’re a nice collection of scoundrels, one and all. I say, one and all, he added with gruff charity and turning to Mr Power. Own up now!
—I own up, said Mr Power.
-And I own up, said Mr M’Coy.
-So we’re going to wash the pot together, said Mr Cunningham.
A thought seemed to strike him. He turned suddenly to the invalid and said:
-D’ye know what, Tom, has just occurred to me? You might join in and we’d have a four-handed reel.acm
-Good idea, said Mr Power. The four of us together.
Mr Kernan was silent. The proposal conveyed very little meaning to his mind, but, understanding that some spiritual agencies were about to concern themselves on his behalf, he thought he owed it to his dignity to show a stiff neck. He took no part in the conversation for a long while, but listened, with an air of calm enmity, while his friends discussed the Jesuits.acn
—I haven’t such a bad opinion of the Jesuits, he said, intervening at length. They’re an educated order. I believe they mean well, too.
—They’re the grandest order in the Church, Tom, said Mr Cunningham, with enthusiasm. The General of the Jesuits stands next to the Pope.
-There’s no mistake about it, said Mr M’Coy, if you want a thing well done and no flies about, you go to a Jesuit. They’re the boyos have influence. I’ll tell you a case in point....
-The Jesuits are a fine body of men, said Mr Power.
—It’s a curious thing, said Mr Cunningham, about the Jesuit Order. Every other order of the Church had to be reformed at some time or other but the Jesuit Order was never once reformed. It never fell away.
-Is that so? asked Mr M’Coy.
-That’s a fact, said Mr Cunningham. That’s history.
-Look at their church, too, said Mr Power. Look at the congregation they have.
-The Jesuits cater for the upper classes, said Mr M’Coy.
-Of course, said Mr Power.
—Yes, said Mr Kernan. That’s why I have a feeling for them. It’s some of those secular priests, ignorant, bumptious—
—They’re all good men, said Mr Cunningham, each in his own way. Irish priesthood is honoured all the world over.
—0 yes, said Mr Power.
-Not like some of the other priesthoods on the continent, said Mr M’Coy, unworthy of the name.
-Perhaps you’re right, said Mr Kernan, relenting.
-Of course I’m right, said Mr Cunningham. I haven’t been in the world all this time and seen most sides of it without being a judge of character.
The gentlemen drank again, one following another’s example. Mr Kernan seemed to be weighing something in his mind. He was impressed. He had a high opinion of Mr Cunningham as a judge of character and as a reader of faces. He asked for particulars.
—0, it’s just a retreat, you know, said Mr Cunningham. Father Purdonaco is giving it. It’s for business men, you know.
-He won’t be too hard on us, Tom, said Mr Power persuasively.
-Father Purdon? Father Purdon? said the invalid.
—0, you must know him, Tom, said Mr Cunningham stoutly. Fine, jolly fellow! He’s a man of the world like ourselves.
—Ah,... yes. I think I know him. Rather red face; tall.
-That’s the man.
—And tell me,