Ivy Day In The Committee Room

James Joyce

Ivy Day In The Committee Room

*

Old Jack raked the cinders together with a piece of cardboard and spread them judiciously over the whitening dome of coals. When the dome was thinly covered his face lapsed into darkness but, as he set himself to fan the fire again, his crouching shadow ascended the opposite wall and his face slowly re-emerged into light. It was an old man's face, very bony and hairy. The moist blue eyes blinked at the fire and the moist mouth fell open at times, munching once or twice mechanically when it closed. When the cinders had caught he laid the piece of cardboard against the wall, sighed and said:

`That's better now, Mr O'Co

Mr O'Co

`Did Mr Tierney say when he'd be back?' he asked in a husky falsetto.

`He didn't say.'

Mr O'Co

`I'll get you a match,' said the old man.

`Never mind, this'll do,' said Mr O'Co

He selected one of the cards and read what was printed on it:

MUNICIPAL ELECTIONS

ROYAL EXCHANGE WARD

Mr Richard J. Tierney, P.L.G., respectfully Solicits the favour of your vote and influence at the coming election in the Royal Exchange Ward.

Mr O'Co

Mr O'Co

`Ah, yes,' he said, continuing, `it's hard to know what way to bring up children. Now who'd think he'd turn out like that! I sent him to the Christian Brothers and I done what I could for him, and there he goes boozing about. I tried to make him somewhat decent.'

He replaced the cardboard wearily.

`Only I'm an old man now I'd change his tune for him. I'd ta&e the stick to his back and beat him while I could stand over him — as I done many a time before. The mother you know, she cocks him up with this and that... '

`That's what ruins children,' said Mr O'Co

`To be sure it is,' said the old man. `And little thanks you get for it, only impudence. He takes th'upper hand of me whenever he sees I've a sup taken. What's the world coming to when sons speaks that way to their fathers?'

`What age is he?' said Mr O'Co

`Nineteen,' said the old man.

`Why don't you put him to something?'

`Sure, amn't I never done at the drunken bowsy ever since he left school? "I won't keep you," I says. "You must get a job for yourself." But, sure it's worse whenever he gets a job; he drinks it all.'

Mr O'Co

`Hello! Is this a Freemasons' meeting?'

`Who's that?' said the old man.

`What are you doing in the dark?' asked a voice.

`Is that you, Hynes?' asked Mr O'Co

`Yes. What are you doing in the dark?' Said Mr Hynes, advancing into the light of the fire.

He was a tall, Slender young man with a light brown moustache. Imminent little drops of rain hung at the brim of his hat and the collar of his jacket-coat was turned up.

`Well, Mat,' he said to Mr O'Co

Mr O'Co

Mr Hynes leaned against the mantelpiece and asked:

`Has he paid you yet?'

`Not yet,' said Mr O'Co

Mr Hynes laughed.

`O, he'll pay you. Never fear,' he said.

`I hope he'll look smart about it if he means business,' said Mr O'Co

`What do you think, Jack?' said Mr Hynes satirically to the old man.

The old man returned to his seat by the fire, saying:

`It isn't but he has it, anyway. Not like the other tinker.'

`What other tinker?' said Mr Hynes.

`Colgan,' said the old man scornfully.

`It is because Colgan's a working-man you say that? What's the difference between a good honest bricklayer and a publican — eh? Hasn't the working-man as good a right to be in the Corporation as anyone else — ay, and a better right than those shoneens that are always hat in hand before any fellow with a handle to his name? Isn't that so, Mat?' said Mr Hynes, addressing Mr O'Co

`I think you're right,' said Mr O'Co

`One man is a plain honest man with no hunker-sliding about him. He goes in to represent the labour classes. This fellow you're working for only wants to get some job or other.'

`Of course, the working-classes should be represented,' said the old man.

`The working-man,' said Mr Hynes, `gets all kicks and no halfpence. But it's labour produces everything. The working-man is not looking for fat jobs for his sons and nephews and cousins. The working-man is not going to drag the honour of Dublin in the mud to please a German monarch.'

`How's that?' said the old man.

`Don't you know they want to present an address of welcome to Edward Rex if he comes here next year? What do we want kowtowing to a foreign king?'

`Our man won't vote for the address,' said Mr O'Co

`Won't he?' said Mr Hynes. `Wait till you see whether he will or not. I know him. Is it Tricky Dicky Tierney?'

`By God! perhaps you're right, Joe,' said Mr O'Co

The three men fell silent. The old man began to rake more cinders together. Mr Hynes took off his hat, shook it and then turned down the collar of his coat, displaying, as he did so, an ivy leaf in the lapel.

`If this man was alive,' he said, pointing to the leaf, `we'd have no talk of an address of welcome.'

`That's true,' said Mr O'Co

`Musha, God be with them times!' said the old man. `There was some life in it then.'

The room was silent again. Then a bustling little man with a snuffling nose and very cold ears pushed in the door. He walked over quickly to the fire, rubbing his hands as if he intended to produce a spark from them.

`No money, boys,' he said.

`Sit down here, Mr Henchy,' said the old man, offering him his chair.

`O, don't stir, Jack, don't stir,' said Mr Henchy.

He nodded curtly to Mr Hynes and sat down on the chair which the old man vacated.

`Did you serve Aungier Street?' he asked Mr O'Co

`Yes,' said Mr O'Co

`Did you call on Grimes?'

`I did.'

`Well? How does he stand?'