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While O'Flynn howled with delight, the priest wound up: "Gentlemen, if we find monotony up here, it's not the country's fault, but a defect in our own civilisation." Wherewith he sat down amid cheers. "Now, Colonel, is Mac goin' to recite some Border ballads?" inquired the Boy, "or will he make a speech, or do a Highland fling?" The Colonel called formally upon Mr. MacCann.
What are our ideas or ambitions? Play. Ideas! Why, that bloody bleating goat Temple has ideas. MacCann has ideas too. Every jackass going the roads thinks he has ideas. Stephen, who had been listening to the unspoken speech behind the words, said with assumed carelessness: Pascal, if I remember rightly, would not suffer his mother to kiss him as he feared the contact of her sex.
Its drawl was an echo of the quays of Dublin given back by a bleak decaying seaport, its energy an echo of the sacred eloquence of Dublin given back flatly by a Wicklow pulpit. The heavy scowl faded from Cranly's face as MacCann marched briskly towards them from the other side of the hall. Here you are! said MacCann cheerily. Here I am! said Stephen. Late as usual.
Then he's only Kaviak as I'm MacCann. I suppose you've christened him?" "Well, not yet no. What shall we call him? What's your boy's name?" "Robert Bruce." They went on in silence till Mac said, "It's on account of my boy I came up here." "Oh!" "It didn't use to matter if a man was poor and self-taught, but in these days of competition it's different.
Dedalus, said MacCann crisply, I believe you're a good fellow but you have yet to learn the dignity of altruism and the responsibility of the human individual. A voice said: Intellectual crankery is better out of this movement than in it. Stephen, recognizing the harsh tone of MacAlister's voice did not turn in the direction of the voice.
CREDO UT VOS SANGUINARIUS MENDAX ESTIS, said Cranly, QUIA FACIES VOSTRA MONSTRAT UT VOS IN DAMNO MALO HUMORE ESTIS. Moynihan, on his way to the table, said in Stephen's ear: MacCann is in tiptop form. Ready to shed the last drop. Brand new world. No stimulants and votes for the bitches.
MacCann began to speak with fluent energy of the Tsar's rescript, of Stead, of general disarmament arbitration in cases of international disputes, of the signs of the times, of the new humanity and the new gospel of life which would make it the business of the community to secure as cheaply as possible the greatest possible happiness of the greatest possible number.
Stephen blushed and turned aside. MacCann stood his ground and said with hostile humour: Minor poets, I suppose, are above such trivial questions as the question of universal peace. Cranly raised his head and held the handball between the two students by way of a peace-offering, saying: PAX SUPER TOTUM SANGUINARIUM GLOBUM.
He's got a flask in his bunk, swillin' and gruntin'; he's just in hog-heaven." "Damn that sneak!" "The man he was talkin' about, Mac, was the man we had all built our hopes on." "I'll teach Potts " "You can't, Mac. Potts has got to die and go to heaven perhaps to hell, before he'll learn any good. But you're a different breed. Teach MacCann."
Sullenly O'Flynn sipped at his grog. Potts had "hogged most of the hootch." "Look here, Boy," said Mac at supper, "I said I wouldn't eat off this plate again." "Oh, dry up! One tin plate's like another tin plate." "Are you reflecting on the washer-up, Mr. MacCann?" asked Potts.
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