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Updated: May 1, 2025
"Yet it was as well to build this playhouse as to make a useless road a road leading nowhere. While they were building this playhouse they thought they were accomplishing something. Never before did the poor people do anything, except for bare life. Do you know, Father MacTurnan, your playhouse touches me to the heart?" and I turned and looked.
He popped about the room and gave his secretary many orders. Father MacTurnan wondered if the Bishop would ever finish talking to his secretary. He seemed to have finished, but a thought suddenly struck him, and he followed his secretary to the door, and Father MacTurnan began to fear that the Pope had not decided to place the Irish clergy on the same footing as the Greek clergy.
Father MacTurnan began to think of the cardinals and the transaction of business in the Vatican; cardinals and ministers alike are the dupes of convention. Only those who are estranged from habits and customs can think straightforward.
I think, your Grace, I'm better suited to the place than I am for any other. I don't wish any change, if your Grace is satisfied with me." "No one will look after the poor people better than yourself, Father MacTurnan. But," he said, "it seems to me there is one thing we have forgotten. You haven't told me if you succeeded in getting the money to buy the pig."
He expected you earlier." "I started the moment I received his Grace's letter. I suppose his Grace wishes to see me regarding my letter to Rome." The secretary hesitated, coughed, and Father MacTurnan wondered why Father Moran looked at him so intently. He returned in a few minutes, saying that his Grace was sorry that Father MacTurnan had had so long a walk.
Father MacTurnan got up beside me, and told me we were about a mile from his house and that he had dinner for me. He was a tall, thin man, and his pale, wandering eyes reflected the melancholy of the distant mountains. "I hope," said the priest, "that you're not wet; we have had some showers here." "We were caught in a shower coming out of Rathowen, but nothing to signify."
"No, sir. The priest had been learning them all the summer, but the autumn was on them before they had got it by rote, and a wind came and blew down one of the walls." "And couldn't Father MacTurnan get the money to build it up?" "Sure he might have got the money, but where would be the use when there was no luck in it." "And who were to act the play?"
He hoped that he would rest awhile and partake of some refreshment.... The servant brought in some wine and sandwiches, and the secretary returned in half an hour. His Grace was now ready to receive him. Father Moran opened the library door, and Father MacTurnan saw the Bishop a short, alert man, about fifty-five, with a sharp nose and grey eyes and bushy eyebrows.
If he had, the Bishop's interest in these many various matters would have subsided; his mind would be engrossed by the larger issue. On returning from the door his Grace passed Father MacTurnan without speaking to him, and going to his writing table he began to search amid his papers. At last Father MacTurnan said: "Maybe your Grace is looking for my letter to Rome?"
I'm afraid the ideas that I submitted to the consideration of His Holiness have been degraded by my very poor Latin. I should have wished Father Meehan to overlook my Latin, but he refused. He begged of me not to send the letter." "Father Meehan," said his Grace, "is a great friend of yours. Yet nothing he could say could shake your resolution to write to Rome?" "Nothing," said Father MacTurnan.
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