JOE’S JAUNT.
Off to Ireland!—At last. Collings with me, of course:—rather grumpy, because Salisbury’s got the credit of passing the Allotments Bill, instead of himself. Still, Jesse better than nobody. Would create bad impression to visit Belfast without an entourage.
In Steamer.—Look up my Irish History—or rather, Jesse’s Irish History, which he’s borrowed from Birmingham Free Library. An Alderman can do that sort of thing. Also examine revolver. Not accustomed to carrying one. What is the best place for it? Jesse says, “left-hand coat-tail pocket, decidedly, because then you can whip it out in a twinkling.” Jesse’s confidence contagious—he talks as if he had always been in the habit of “whipping-out” revolvers, like a cow-boy,—or a “three-acres-and-a-cow-boy.” Do as he advises. Very uncomfortable feeling. Sit down on revolver in a moment of forgetfulness, and nearly blow Captain’s head off. Captain irritated. Asks me for “ransom.” Ridiculous!
Belfast.—No end of a reception. Drive through the principal streets. Enthusiastic populace insist on taking horses out of carriage and pulling it themselves. Gratifying, but should feel safer with the horses. Why will Collings bow? I’m the person to bow, obviously. Bad taste, but don’t like to stop him. Believe the mob take him for me—or why do they cheer him so?
At Hotel.—Just found out reason of enthusiasm evoked by appearance of Jesse. He’s got on an Orange tie! Ask him, reproachfully, why he did this? Pretends it was a mere accident—forgot that orange was favourite Ulster colour. Don’t want a religious riot, so make him take it off. Jesse getting grumpier. Can’t help it.
Evening.—Before going to meeting, had better find out what Belfast chiefly famous for. Ask Collings. Replies “linen-shirts and handkerchiefs.” Try to put him in good humour by remarking that “he seems shirty.” Is there no other historical fact connected with place? “Yes,” he replies, “visit of Lord Randolph Churchill.” Wish he hadn’t mentioned latter event. Dispiriting. Reminds one of proposed National Party, with self and Randolph as sole leaders—and sole followers, too, it seems.
At Hotel—after Speech.—Great success. Felt horribly inclined to start another Home Rule plan—my fifth—but fortunately refrained. Instead of dismemberment of Empire, I offered more Members to Ulster. Ulster people saw the justice of this arrangement at once. Told ’em there were “two Irelands.” Isn’t one Ireland enough, however?
Coleraine.—A triumphal arch, with “Welcome to English Peasant Emancipators” on it. Stupid to bracket Collings with me in this way. Receive threatening letter. Reminds me of my revolver. Jesse examines it with the air of a professional gunsmith, critically. Appears quite hurt at its condition; says, “I’ve sat on it so often he doubts if it would go off now,” and recommends my carrying a “bowie-knife” instead. Am surprised at Jesse’s acquaintance with deadly weapons. Ask him what historical event took place at Coleraine. Says he doesn’t know and doesn’t care. But what’s he here for except to keep me posted up in local details? Hint to him that “I hope I may be able to offer him post of President of Local Government Board in my future Ministry.” Replies (rudely, I think) that “he’ll wait till I’m asked to form one.” Query—doesn’t air of Ulster exercise demoralising effect on English politicians? Is this the “Ulster Custom” one’s heard so much about? Randolph a case in point.
Back again.—Coleraine speech excellent, though I say it, as shouldn’t. Cheered to the echo. So was Jesse, hang him! Shan’t take him to Canada with me. Now for a study of the habits of deep-sea fish in the pages of a Natural Science Primer.