The Poor Mouth Read Online Free PDF Page A

a long draught from his new drink, Mr Collopy sank farther back in his shapeless chair and sighed very deeply.
    –I’m afraid, Father Fahrt, he said at last, we are only wasting time and just annoying each other with these arguments. These things have been argued out years ago. You’d imagine we here were like Our Lord disputing with the doctors in the temple. The real question is this: What action can we take? What can be done?
    –Well, that’s certainly a more reasonable approach, Collopy. Much more reasonable. And much more practical.
    – Quod faciamemus, ah?
    –Have you thought about a public meeting at all?
    –By the jappers I have, many a time, Mr Collopy said with some sadness. I gave it my best considerations. It would be no good. And do you know why? Only men go to public meetings. No lady would be found dead at a public meeting. You know that? You would find only prostitutes hanging around. And men? What good are they? Sure they don’t give a goddam if women were dying like flies in the street. They have only two uses for women, Father—either go to bed with them or else thrash the life out of them. I was half thinking of trying to enlist the support of this new Gaelic League but I’m afraid they’re nothing only a crowd of thooleramawns. They wouldn’t understand this crisis in our national life. They would think I was a dirty old man and send for the D.M.P.
    –Um.
    Father Fahrt frowned speculatively.
    –What about making a move at Dublin Castle? They could certainly put pressure on the Corporation.
    –And get myself locked up? I am not a damned fool.
    –Ah! With politics I am not familiar.
    –I’m buggered if I can see what’s political about this but those ruffians in the Castle will arrest an Irishman and charge him with treason if his trousers are a bit baggy or he forgot to shave. But here’s an approach that came into my head …
    –What is that, Collopy?
    –Why not have the whole scandalous situation denounced from the pulpit?
    –Oh … dear.
    Father Fahrt gave a low, melodious, sardonic laugh.
    –The Church’s first concern, Collopy, is with faith and morals. Their application to everyday life is pretty wide but I fear your particular problem is far, far outside the pale. We couldn’t possibly raise such a matter in a church. It might even give scandal. If I were to start forth on the subject in University Church, I think I know what Father Superior would say, not to mention his Grace the Archbishop.
    –But, look here——
    –No, no, now, Collopy. Ecclesia locuta, causa finita est.
    –Ah well, that’s the way, I suppose, Mr Collopy said with tired resignation. The Church keeps very far from the people in their daily troubles and travail, but by gob it wasn’t like that when we had the Penal Laws, with Paddy Whack keeping a look-out for the soldiery from the top of the ditch on a Sunday morning and the poor pishrogues of peasants below in their rags answering the Hail Mary in Irish. ’Tis too grand you are getting, Father, yourself and your Church.
    –I’m afraid there is such a thing as Canon Law, Collopy.
    –We have too much law in this country. I even thought of getting in touch with the Freemasons.
    –I hope not. It is sinful to have any truck with those people. They despise the Holy Spirit.
    –I doubt if they despise women as much as the damned Lord Mayor and his Corporation do.
    –There is one remedy I am sure you haven’t tried, Collopy.
    Here Father Fahrt urgently scratched again.
    –I’m sure there is. Probably thousands. What’s the one remedy?
    –Prayer.
    –The what was that?
    – Prayer.
    –Prayer? I see. You’d never know, we might try that yet. You can move mountains with prayer, I believe, but I’m not trying to move mountains. I’m trying to put a bomb under that Lord Mayor. But there is one very farfetched idea I’ve had and damned if I know would it work. I’d want influence … a word in high places … great tact and plawmaus … perhaps