BROADBENT [coming between them]. Take care! you will be
quarrelling presently. Oh, you Irishmen, you Irishmen! Toujours
Ballyhooly, eh? [Larry, with a shrug, half comic, half impatient,
turn away up the hill, but presently strolls back on Keegan's
right. Broadbent adds, confidentially to Keegan] Stick to the
Englishman, Mr Keegan: he has a bad name here; but at least he
can forgive you for being an Irishman.
KEEGAN. Sir: when you speak to me of English and Irish you forget
that I am a Catholic. My country is not Ireland nor England, but
the whole mighty realm of my Church. For me there are but two
countries: heaven and hell; but two conditions of men: salvation
and damnation. Standing here between you the Englishman, so
clever in your foolishness, and this Irishman, so foolish in his
cleverness, I cannot in my ignorance be sure which of you is the
more deeply damned; but I should be unfaithful to my calling if I
opened the gates of my heart less widely to one than to the
other.
LARRY. In either case it would be an impertinence, Mr Keegan, as
your approval is not of the slightest consequence to us. What use
do you suppose all this drivel is to men with serious practical
business in hand?
BROADBENT. I don't agree with that, Larry. I think these things
cannot be said too often: they keep up the moral tone of the
community. As you know, I claim the right to think for myself in
religious matters: in fact, I am ready to avow myself a bit of
a--of a--well, I don't care who knows it--a bit of a Unitarian;
but if the Church of England contained a few men like Mr Keegan,
I should certainly join it.
KEEGAN. You do me too much honor, sir. [With priestly humility to
Larry] Mr Doyle: I am to blame for having unintentionally set
your mind somewhat on edge against me. I beg your pardon.
LARRY [unimpressed and hostile]. I didn't stand on ceremony with
you: you needn't stand on it with me. Fine manners and fine words
are cheap in Ireland: you can keep both for my friend here, who
is still imposed on by them. I know their value.
KEEGAN. You mean you don't know their value.
LARRY [angrily]. I mean what I say.
KEEGAN [turning quietly to the Englishman] You see, Mr Broadbent,
I only make the hearts of my countrymen harder when I preach to
them: the gates of hell still prevail against me. I shall wish
you good evening. I am better alone, at the Round Tower, dreaming
of heaven. [He goes up the hill].
LARRY. Aye, that's it! there you are! dreaming, dreaming,
dreaming, dreaming!
KEEGAN [halting and turning to them for the last time]. Every
dream is a prophecy: every jest is an earnest in the womb of
Time.
BROADBENT [reflectively]. Once, when I was a small kid, I dreamt
I was in heaven. [They both stare at him]. It was a sort of pale
blue satin place, with all the pious old ladies in our
congregation sitting as if they were at a service; and there was
some awful person in the study at the other side of the hall. I
didn't enjoy it, you know. What is it like in your dreams?
KEEGAN. In my dreams it is a country where the State is the
Church and the Church the people: three in one and one in three.
It is a commonwealth in which work is play and play is life:
three in one and one in three. It is a temple in which the priest
is the worshipper and the worshipper the worshipped: three in one
and one in three. It is a godhead in which all life is human and
all humanity divine: three in one and one in three. It is, in
short, the dream of a madman. [He goes away across the hill].
BROADBENT [looking after him affectionately]. What a regular old
Church and State Tory he is! He's a character: he'll be an
attraction here. Really almost equal to Ruskin and Carlyle.
LARRY. Yes; and much good they did with all their talk!
BROADBENT. Oh tut, tut, Larry! They improved my mind: they raised
my tone enormously. I feel sincerely obliged to Keegan: he has
made me feel a better man: distinctly better. [With sincere
elevation] I feel now as I never did before that I am right in
devoting my life to the cause of Ireland. Come along and help me
to choose the site for the hotel.
