“Oh, I should not allow considerations of money to stand in my way.”
This was handsome. I looked at Godfrey to see how he liked to hear his future wife’s dowry being frittered away on statues. I could see that he was anything but pleased.
“I shall convey your offer,” I said, “to the people of Belfast. They may not want that exact statue again. We’re not quite as keen on Kings and Queens as we were. But I feel quite sure something symbolic would appeal to us strongly. What would you think now of Ulster as an infant Hercules strangling a snake representing Home Rule? Any good sculptor would knock off something of that sort for you; about twelve feet by nine feet, not counting the pedestal. By the way, did we do much damage to your ship? The one Malcolmson hit with his cannon ball?”
“I don’t know,” said Clithering. “I did not hear any details.”
“Because,” I said, “if she is injured in any way—But perhaps she was insured?”
“I don’t think men-of-war are insured.”
“Well, they ought to be. But if that one wasn’t I’m sure we’d like to make good any damage we did. Conroy has lots of money, and he’d be sorry if the English people were put to any expense in repairing a battleship we injured.”
I am not a practised ambassador, but I have always understood that diplomacy is a trade in which politeness pays. I was not going to be outdone by Clithering. When he offered Belfast a new statue I could hardly do less than promise that Conroy would mend the ship. I was very glad afterwards that I thought of it. Clithering was tremendously pleased, and made me quite a long speech. He said that he looked upon my offer as a kind of first-fruit of the new spirit of amity which was coming into existence between England and Ireland.
This ended our negotiations to the satisfaction of every one concerned.