Ireland as It Is Part 32

"The loyal party in an Irish Parliament would always be in a minority, and for any good they could do, might as well stay away. For no matter how the Nationalist factions might quarrel among themselves, the priestly party would always have the pull. The English Protestants ought to believe that we know the reality of the danger that threatens us better than they can possibly do. There are nearly three thousand Protestant ministers in Ireland, and only six or seven are in favour of Home Rule. Are these men all infatuated? Are they all liars? Are they in a position to know the facts? Of course they are truthful men, and they understand if anybody does. Then why not take their advice?

The Meath election pet.i.tions ought to have settled Home Rule.

Englishmen cannot have read the reports of these trials. Mr. Gladstone is fooling the people on both sides the water. He is satisfying n.o.body, whether Home Rulers or not. The Nationalists round here say the bill is an insult, but that they will take it as an instalment.

The end will be that both loyalists and traitors will be more discontented than ever--a poor result after so much fuss and waste of precious time."

If my friend had known of it he might have quoted Mr. William Heath, an Englishman resident for six months in Tyrone. He arrived in Ireland a bigoted Home Ruler, but six months in the country knocked his nonsense out of him. He said:--"I have seen enough of Romanism to convince me that Protestantism would be crushed if Home Rule became law. I have seen the men who demand it, and I have seen the men who are determined to oppose Home Rule--the one set idle, dissolute, poverty-stricken, disloyal, and priest-ridden; the other industrious, thrifty, comfortable, and loyal to England. I go back to England a Unionist, and will do all I can to spread the light on the true state of affairs in this unhappy country. If the people of England and Scotland saw Nationalists as I have seen them they would not force Home Rule on the Loyalists of Ulster so as to leave them at the mercy of such a party." A Primitive Methodist Minister, the Rev. J.

Angliss, who came to Ireland a faithful follower of Mr. Gladstone, changed his mind when acquainted with the facts, and confessed himself a convert to Unionism. He said that he had used his influence against the return of Sir Richard Webster, the late Attorney-General, but since his visit to Ireland he had come to the conclusion that the Bill would be a tremendous evil. He was "prepared to go back to the very platform in the Isle of Wight from which he had supported Home Rule and to tell the people he was converted. English people who come here to investigate for themselves must be forced to the conclusion that the Bill means confiscation and robbery."

A thriving tradesman of Clones said:--"I am surprised that any Englishmen can be found to pin their faith to Mr. Gladstone, or to any man with such an extraordinary record of change. Mr. Bright used to say he could not turn his back on himself, but Mr. Gladstone spins round and round like a teetotum. I should think that such an instance has never been known since that good old parson who sung, 'Whatsoever king may reign, Still I'll be Vicar of Bray, Sir.' Downing Street is the Grand Old Man's vicarage, and he endeavours to cling to it at all costs. In 1886 he said, 'I will not be a party to giving Ireland a legislative body to manage Irish concerns and at the same time have Irish members in London acting and voting on English and Scottish concerns.' In seven years and one month he insists on that very thing, and votes for it, with his crowd of noughts behind him. For I reckon all his Parliamentary supporters as noughts, to which a value is given by the figure 1 at their head. Isn't that true? What would the rest be without him? The bulk of his adherents are precisely the kind of men n.o.body ever pays any attention to. There's Morley, a good writer, but not a man of business. Then there's Harcourt. How can Englishmen stand such a hollow humbug? He'll say anything, any blessed thing. I prefer Tim Healy, even, to Harcourt. Tim was roughly brought up, and, as he gets his living by politics, he is to some extent excusable. The way that Harcourt attacked the Irish party, so long as Mr. Gladstone attacked them! The things he said, the strong language he used so long as that course pleased Mr. Gladstone! Now he turns round and calls them beauties; and for that matter so they are. It's what I mostly call them myself. Beauties.

"The arrangement to keep the Irish Nationalists at Westminster is something for Englishmen to consider. If they can swallow that they can swallow anything. They can have no pride about them, or else they are taking no further interest in their own affairs. To give the Irish members power to vote on all questions coming before the Imperial Parliament, while conceding to them the privilege of managing their own affairs without interference, is indeed an eye-opener. The British Parliament had sunk low enough when it began to heed the clamour of a set of American-paid blackguards such as the bulk of the Irish members are, by their own supporters, admitted to be. But how much lower has England sunk when she accepts the dictation of these men, and says, 'You can manage your own affairs and direct my business too.' These fellows are to be masters of Ireland _and_ masters of England. For of course, they can always exert a preponderating influence in British affairs, holding as they do the balance of voting power. And Englishmen will submit to this; and will let their members be gagged and the clauses shoved through the House by hydraulic power.

Englishmen are so fond of boasting of their Freedom and Independence.

Why, they are being treated like fools and slaves. And by such a low set of fellows. Some of the Nationalist members wipe their noses on the tails of their coats, and when those are worn out they use their coat-sleeves. One of them was staying in an hotel where I was, and I saw him eat eggs. He cut off the top, and worked up the yolk with the handle of his spoon, mixing pepper and mustard. Then he cut his bacon into dice, and dipped each square in the egg before stoking himself.

That is a sample of the cla.s.s now working the British Parliament.

There was an Irish patriot M.P.

"Dillon is comparatively respectable, and if you knew Dillon you wouldn't think that meant much. Chamberlain showed him up, but why stop at one quotation? I see the judge is now in Tipperary. That was the place Dillon, along with O'Brien, got to conspire against the law with such frightful results. You remember they were sentenced to six months' imprisonment, but breaking their bail they both ran away, while the poor men who had got into trouble, without funds to bolt with, went to hard labour. Dillon once said that if certain people had cattle on land '_the cattle wouldn't prosper very much_,' and sure enough a number of cattle near Tipperary have had their tails cut off.

Dillon, I say, is reckoned one of the most respectable. That does not say much for the others. You are giving these men power. Will they use that power to wring further concessions? They have often declared that they will. The English Home Rulers say that they won't, that Irishmen will be too grateful. They know not what they say. You'll have a hostile Government at your very doors. What did Parnell say? 'When England is at war and beaten to her knees, the idea of the Irish Nationalists may be realised.' And s.e.xton, this very s.e.xton who is now so much to the front, said that the 'one prevailing and unchangeable pa.s.sion between Ireland and England is the pa.s.sion of hate.' Then what hope is there of friends.h.i.+p in a Home Rule Bill which will infinitely increase the number of points of dispute? And these men don't mean to be pleased, either. They don't mean to try to be content. It wouldn't pay them. They have their living to get. Well, they have shown themselves clever. They can work England."

A friend has furnished me with a few gems from the orations of the Dillon aforesaid, whose threat of what would be done to loyalists under an Irish Parliament has recently attracted so much notice. He tried to show that this was said in a moment of warmth, in a fit of exasperation at the "Mitchelstown ma.s.sacre," which took place a year afterwards. What had annoyed him when at Limerick he said that any man who stood aside from the national movement was "a dastard and a coward, and he and his children after him would be remembered in the days that are near at hand, when Ireland was a free nation?"--Date September 20th, 1887. Dillon delights in dates. Again, what had ruffled the patriot soul, when at Maryborough he spoke of dissentients in the following terms:--"When the struggle is ended and the people of this country have obtained that control over their own affairs which must come very soon, he will be pointed out to his neighbours as a coward and a traitor?"--January 15th, 1889. It was on November 1st, 1887, at Limerick, that the same friend of England said "let the people of Ireland get arms in their hands," and promised to "manage Ulster." It was at Dublin on August 23rd, 1887, that Mr. Dillon said:--"If there is a man in Ireland base enough to back down, to turn his back on the fight, I will denounce him from public platforms _by name_, and I pledge myself to the Government that, let that man be who he may, his life will not be a happy one, either in Ireland or across the seas." All this, be it observed, was after the promulgation of the Union of Hearts. Well might Mr. Gladstone, speaking of Mr. Dillon, who is now one of his closest allies, say in the House of Commons:--

"The honourable gentleman comes here as the apostle of a creed which is a creed of force, which is a creed of oppression, which is a creed of the destruction of all liberty, and of the erection of a despotism against it, and on its ruins, different from every other despotism only in this,--that it is more absolutely detached from all law, from all tradition, and from all restraint." Sir William Harcourt also referring to Mr. Dillon in the House once said, "The doctrine of the Land League, expounded by the man who has authority to explain it, is the doctrine of treason and a.s.sa.s.sination;" and in addition to this strong p.r.o.nouncement Sir William called it "a vile conspiracy." Both Mr. Gladstone and Sir William Harcourt are now hand-and-glove with the men of whom Mr. Gladstone said at Leeds:--"They are not ashamed to point out in the press which they maintain how the s.h.i.+ps of her majesty's navy ought to be blown into the air, and how gentlemen they are pleased to select ought to be the object of the knife of the a.s.sa.s.sin and deprived of life because they do not conform to the new Irish Gospel." Mr. Chamberlain's exposure of Dillon has brought down the thunders of the Nationalist press. Did he ever say anything stronger than this? One Nationalist paper, speaking of the member for West Birmingham, says:--"There was something devilish in the exultation of the strident voice and pale malignant face." The Home Rule penmen are always describing him as "livid with impotent rage,"

"trembling with ill-concealed vindictive pa.s.sion," "hurrying from the House to escape the mocking laughter of the amused Senate." The member for Bordesley is dealt with more lightly. "Mr. Jesse Collings occupied some minutes with his usual amusing inanity" and so forth.

According to these writers the House rapidly empties when Mr. Balfour or Mr. Chamberlain would fain hold forth, and fills to suffocation to hear the n.o.ble periods of Dillon, s.e.xton, and Healy. Mr. Deasy, M.P.

for West Mayo, has recently been before the public rather prominently, and his opinion of the Irish question may be interesting at the present juncture. I heard much of this gentleman at Westport, where he is well known. He is disgusted with the show of loyalty to which his colleagues have treated Mr. Gladstone, who boasts of their "satisfactory a.s.surances." He knew that the Nationalist members, speaking in England, made use of amicable expressions which no Irish Nationalist audience would tolerate, and speaking of this he said:--"I have never said on an English platform what I would not say here this night. I have not been saying that we all want to be part and parcel of the British Empire--with the lie on the top of my tongue, I am not going to disgrace my const.i.tuency by going over to England and uttering falsehoods there, and coming back and saying that I was deceiving England at the time." This speech was made in 1891, only two years ago. Is not this big print enough? Surely no reasonable person will any longer believe in the loyal friends.h.i.+p of Nationalist Ireland. To do so is to violate common sense. Only the fatuous Gladstonians, Whose eyes will scarcely serve at most To guard their wearers 'gainst a post, can be expected to take it in.

It is hard to find a decent person in favour of the bill. Its supporters are eminently unsatisfactory, inasmuch as they furnish no readable matter, and content themselves with saying that Ireland will have her freedom, and that prosperity will follow, as the night the day, in the wake of the bill. But they can never indicate wherein is their want of freedom, nor can they ever say _how_ the bill will bring about prosperity. Then, as a rule, the voters for the bill are persons whose opinion no sane person would act upon in the most unimportant matter. They never know the population of their own town, nor the distance to the next. They are mostly sunk fathoms deep in blackest ignorance, and characterised by most cantankerous perversity, now rapidly merging, as the bill proceeds, into insolent b.u.mptiousness.

The Lord-Lieutenant has returned to Dublin after having endured such snubs and slights as Mr. Balfour never encountered. And yet Lord Houghton waved the olive-branch. Everybody seems to have asked him for a pier. I have given many instances of useless piers on the Western Irish Coast. The parish priests who met the Viceroy asked for more, and again more. Mr. Morley has been asked in the House what is going to be done about the piers the priests have asked for. Let him appoint a Commission to inquire into the history of Western Irish piers. The report will be startling, and also instructive. A Glengariff man admitted to me that the people of that famous town would make no use of the pier if they had it. "But," said he, "the building of it would bring a thousand pounds into the village." The English people are said to dearly love a lord. The Irish people dearly love a pier.

Clones, July 13th.

No. 48.--A SEARCH FOR "ORANGE ROWDYISM."

Belfast is still of the same mind. Its citizens will not have Home Rule. They are more than ever determined that the fruits of their industry shall not be placed at the mercy of men who have consistently advocated the doctrine of plunder. The law-abiding men of Belfast will never submit to the rule of law-breakers, many of whom have expiated their offences in the convict's cell. This debt-paying community will not consent to be under the thumb of men whose most successful doctrine has been the repudiation of legal contracts. The famous merchants and manufacturers of the true capital of Ireland decline to place their future fortunes in the hands of the unscrupulous and beggarly adventurers who would form the bulk of a College Green Parliament. The hard-working artizans of Belfast are firm in their determination to resist the imposition of a legislature which will drive capital from the country, diminish the sources of employment, strangle all beneficial enterprise, and by destroying security undermine and wreck all Irish industry. They know how the agitation originates, and by whom it is directed. They have the results of Papal influence before their eyes. While Belfast as a whole is clean, open, airy, with splendid streets and magnificent buildings, the Catholic portions of the city are as much like the pestilent dens of Tuam and Tipperary as the authorities will permit. The uninstructed stranger can pick out the Home Rule streets. In Belfast as elsewhere, sweetness, light, and loyalty are inseparably conjoined, while evil smells and dinginess are the invariable concomitants of disloyalty and separatism. Fortunately for the Ulster city, the loyalists number three to one, which fact accounts for its general cleanliness, the thriving aspect of its commercial concerns, the decency and order of its well-kept thoroughfares. And whatever Belfasters want they pay for themselves. Belfast receives no Government grants for any munic.i.p.al purpose, while disloyal Dublin, screaming for equality of treatment, is largely subsidised from Imperial sources. The Belfast people entirely support their hospitals. The Dublin hospitals are largely supported out of the public revenues. The Belfast Botanic Gardens are kept going by Belfast. The Dublin Botanical Gardens are wholly supported by Government. Further examples are needless, the facts being simple as they are undeniable. Dublin gets everything. Belfast gets absolutely nothing. Disloyalty is at a premium. Motley's the only wear. The screamers are always getting something to stop their mouths, a sop, not a gag. Steady, quiet, hard-working folks are of no account. The Belfast men ask for nothing, and get it. They want no pecuniary aid, being used to self-help, and liking it best. Stiff in opinion, they know their own minds, and are accustomed to victory.

They do not in turn threaten and complain and cringe and curse and fawn. They keep a level course and run on an even keel. They are bad to beat, and can do with much letting alone. They are pious in their way, and talk like Cromwell's Puritans. They abhor Popery, judging the tree by its fruits, a test recommended by their chiefest cla.s.sic. They believe that Protestantism is daylight, that Popery is darkness, and that the sun is rising. They believe with Carlyle that "Popery cannot come back any more than paganism, which also lingers in some countries." They also believe with the sage that "there is a perennial n.o.bleness and even sacredness in Work. Were he never so benighted, forgetful of his high calling, there is always hope in a man who actually and earnestly works; in Idleness alone is there perpetual despair." So they work every day and all the day, save on rare occasions, and for these holidays they make up by overtime. They think Home Rule is useless at best, and not only useless, but dangerous.

They declare it would affect their liberties, and this notion is ineradicable. Touch them in their freedom and the secold Northerners become aflame. And while the Irish Kelts burn like straw--a flame and a puff of smoke, and there an end--these Scots settlers are like oaken logs, slow to take fire, but hard to extinguish. They prosper under the Union, and therefore, say they, the Union is good. What the poor Irish need is industry, not Acts of Parliament. The land is rich, the laws are just, the judges are honest, and industry is encouraged. The fault is in the people themselves, and in their pastors and masters.

The convergence of Ulster opinion reminds me of an old line, which fitly ill.u.s.trates the position of the Irish malcontent party--

_Heu mihi! quam pingui macer est mihi taurus in arvo._ Quaint old Thomas Fuller (as I remember) has rendered this--

My starveling bull, Ah, woe is me, In pasture full How lean is he!

I am almost disposed to believe that Horace antic.i.p.ated the case; or that, like Mr. John Dillon, he had the gift of remembering occurrences before they took place.

Much has been spoken and written in England concerning "Orange rowdyism." I saw the twenty thousand Orangemen who walked through Belfast to Knocknagoney on Wednesday last. They had nearly five miles to march on a hot day before they reached the meeting-place, some hours to stand there listening to speeches, and then the long march back again. Large numbers went to the Orange Halls, there to conclude the day. I followed them thither, heard their speeches, noted their modes of enjoyment, watched them unnoticed and unknown, save in one instance, until they finally dispersed. Next day I went to Scarva, forty miles away, to see the great sham fight which annually takes place there between representatives of King James and King William of Orange. There were sixty-four special trains, at cheap fares, running to Scarva, besides the ordinary service, and let it be remembered that Scarva is on the main line from Dublin to Belfast. Now let me state precisely what I saw.

The Belfast procession was very like the tail of the Belfast Balfour demonstration, and with good reason, for both consisted of twenty thousand Orangemen. But on Wednesday the Orangemen, instead of being preceded by a hundred thousand citizens of Ulster, had it all to themselves. The authorities know the character of Orangemen. They know that scorching weather and long dusty marches are apt to lead to copious libations, especially in holiday time. They know that political feeling runs high, and that the present moment is one of undue excitement. They know that the Papist party have taunted Orangemen with the supposed progress of the bill, and that the same people say daily that Orangeism will be at once abolished, and that this year sees the last Orange procession in Belfast. "This is yer last kick before we kick ye to h.e.l.l," said a broken-nosed gentleman at the corner of Carrick Hill. The authorities knew all these things, and taking into account the known character of Orangeism, with the special exasperation of the moment, and remembering their own responsibility in the matter of order, how many extra policemen were drafted into the city?

Not one. The men who really know Orangemen knew that no precautions were needed.

There were bra.s.s bands, drum and fife bands, and bands of bagpipes.

The drums were something tremendous. The Belfast drumming is a thing apart, like a Plymouth Brother. We have nothing like it in England.

The big drums run in couples, borne by stout fellows of infinite muscle, and tireless energy. The kettle-drums hunt in packs, like beagles. The big drums are the biggest the climate will grow, and the drummers lash them into fury with thin canes, having no k.n.o.b, no wrapper of felt, no softening or mitigating influence whatever. The bands played "G.o.d save the Queen," "Rule Britannia," "The Boyne Water," and "The Death of Nelson." The fifes screamed shrilly, the bra.s.s tubes blared, and every drummer drummed as if he had the Pope himself under his especial care. The vigour and verve of these marching musicians is very surprising. You cannot tire them out. The tenth mile ended as fresh as the first, though every performer had worked like a horse. There is a reason for this. Their hearts are in the work. To them it means something. The scarves and busbies and uniforms and desperate paroxysms of drumming are somewhat comical to strangers, but the people looked earnest, and as if engaged in serious business. Thousands of well-dressed people walked with the procession, or looked gravely on. There was no horse-play, and no noise other than the music. No bare feet, no bare heads, no rags, no dirt, no disorder. A Papist sprang from his lair in a side street and tried to s.n.a.t.c.h the scarf from a young man, who promptly drove him back to his den. Nothing else happened. At midnight there were for the whole city twenty police cases against thirty-nine for last year's twelfth. So much for Orange rowdies in the streets. Let us look upon their private orgies.

At seven o'clock I went to the Orange Hall, Clifton Street, the headquarters of the body. The various lodges were dispersed in several rooms, where they seemed to be taking tea with their sisters and their cousins and their aunts. A turn outside landed me opposite Saint Patrick's Roman Catholic Church, and here was a strong guard of police. The neighbouring streets of Carrick Hill, North Street, and another, literally swarmed with filthy, bare-footed women, wearing the hooded shawl of Limerick, of Tuam, of Tipperary. The men had a dangerous look. Many were drunk, and some had bandaged heads. More policemen half-way down Carrick Hill, and more still at the end. The people who pay no taxes cost most to keep in order. I have somewhere seen a body of returns showing that while the Unionist population requires only ten or twelve policemen to every ten thousand people, the Home Rule provinces take from forty-eight to fifty-two to manage the same number. Returning to the Orange Hall a number of dirty, bare-footed children walked in procession past the door singing vociferously. They sung with great spirit to the tune of "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching," and seemed to enjoy it amazingly. I did not catch the words. They stopped as I came up, but a young fellow on guard at the hall said, "They grind up the children in songs of a party nature, and send them here to annoy us. Of course, we can't notice little children."

This time I dropped in the thick of the entertainment. A mild, mild man occupied the chair, young men and maidens, old men and children sitting around. They were inebriating on ginger beer and biscuits, and their wildest revelry was the singing of "The Old Folks at Home" by a young lady in white. Mr. E.J. Fullwood, of Birmingham, who was there as a visitor, made a rattling speech, and received a great ovation. A quiet gentleman, by special request, made a few remarks on the political situation. He said:--"We will resist a Home Rule Parliament at any cost and at every cost. We will not have it. Our faith is plighted, and we are not the men to go back of our word." His manner was very subdued, and the audience also kept very quiet. What these men say they say in their sober senses, and not by reason of excitement. Another room was livelier. An English gentleman was holding forth. Then the band played "No surrender," after which a lady sang "Killarney's hills and vales." In a third room a brother was calling on the brethren to give three cheers for "our beloved Queen,"

under whose benignant reign blessings had been shed upon the British Empire, "to which we belong, and to which we still belong, so long as they will have us." In a fourth room the listening Orangemen sat under a discourse on the efficacy of prayer, which they were urged to make a living part of their everyday life. All this was very disappointing, and when in Royal Avenue the helmeted watchman of the night a.s.sured me that nothing had happened, and that nothing was likely to happen, I abandoned all hope of Orange rowdyism.

Next day at ten, I went to Scarva, or, as the natives spell it, Scarvagh. A neat little place full of Black Protestants. The houses are clean and tidy, and the people have a well-to-do look. There was a great crowd at the station, and a band of drummers were laying on with such thundering effect that my very coat sleeves vibrated with the concussion. A big arch of orange lilies bore the one word WELCOME, and the roadside was lined with stalls selling provisions and ginger beer.

The church on the hill flew the Orange flag with the Union Jack. The Presbyterian meeting-house and a Methodist Chapel complete the tale of wors.h.i.+p-houses. The place is without rags, dirt, beggars, or any other symptoms of Home Rule patriotism. Neither is there a Roman Catholic Chapel. The signboards bore Scots and English names. Mr. J. Hawthorne stood at his door, big-boned and burly, with a handsome good-humoured face. "Ye'll gang up the brae, till ye see an avenue with lots of folk intil it," said this "Irishman," whose ancestors have lived at Scarva from time immemorial.

"Yes, we pit up the airch o' lilies to welcome our friends. They come every year, and a gude mony o' them too, so we pit up that bit thing oot o' friends.h.i.+p like."

I told him this was to be the last occasion, as Mr. Dillon was determined to manage Ulster. He laughed good-naturedly.

"Mon alive, d'ye tell me that any mon said sic a fuleish speech? Mon, its borne in on me that we'll tak a dooms lot of managin'. These chaps dinna ken ower weel what they're talkin' aboot. An' they maun say somethin' to please the fellows that keep them in siller. These things hae gane on in Scarva sin' auld lang syne, an' nothin' e'er stappit them. They went on when the Party Processions Act was law, an' tho'

the sojers ance cam frae Dublin to stop the demonstration, the Orangemen mustered in sic force that they never interfered aifter all.

An' in Ulster we'll hauld our own, d'ye mind that? We've tauld them oor mind, an' that we wunna hae Home Rule. We've tauld them that, an'

we'll stand by it. They've gotten oor ultimatum, an' they can mak a kirk or a mill o' it."

I gangit up the brae through dense crowds constantly increasing as the sixty-four specials gradually came in. The way was sylvan and pretty, big beech trees and elms meeting overhead, the road running along the side of a steep hill sloping down to a small river, the slope carefully tilled, and showing good husbandry. Then a beautifully wooded and extensive demesne, and a mile of avenue, with many thousands of well-dressed orderly people, the ladies forming about half the company. Then a large low, brown mansion with a gravelled quadrangle, around which marched fife and drum bands playing "No Surrender" and "The Boyne Water." And everywhere incessant drumming and drinking of ginger beer. Banners were there of every size, shape, and colour, many with painted devices, more or less well done. The Lurgan Temperance Lodge exhibited Moses in the wilderness, holding up the brazen serpent. "Three-fourths of the Orange Lodges are based on temperance principles," said an Orange authority standing by, "and what is more, they don't allow smoking. We Orange rowdies are to a great extent temperance men." I remembered that the three meetings of the night before were smokeless concerts, and that the fourth resembled a Methodist love-feast, with an old brother telling his experiences. Also that Captain Milligen, a leading Plymouth Brother of Warrenpoint, had told me that he had been present at a Scarva meeting, and that from beginning to end he never heard a bad word, nor saw anything objectionable. The sham fight took place on a hill hard by.

Two fine young fellows fenced with old cavalry swords, and King James, with green coat and plumes, succ.u.mbed to King William with orange coat and plumes, while their respective armies to the number of about thirty, fifteen on each side, fired in the air. I noticed that while a few had ancient bra.s.s-bound muskets, which looked as if converted from flint locks, most were armed with Snider rifles of army pattern. The drums excelled themselves, and the fifers shrieked martial airs. The people waved their hats and cheered, and that was the whole of it.

Returning to the station, a good young man gave me a tract, wherein I found myself addressed as a Dear Unsaved Reader, and later as a h.e.l.l-deserving Sinner. Then a Salvation Army man telling a crowd to Escape for their lives, which I was just doing, and that once he had loved pleasure, which seemed likely enough. Then a big banner whereon was depicted David in the act of beheading Goliath with a yeomanry sword, the Wicklow mountains in the distance. Then an old man on the bridge declaring to the mult.i.tude that he would not be a Papist for all that earth could give, and that nothing could induce his fellow-citizens to submit to Home Rule for one second of time. "No, never, never, never. Rather than accept of Popish rule, we'll take arms in our hands as our fathers did, and like them we will conquer.

Have we not their example before us? Are we such dastards as to give up that for which they shed their blood? Shall the sons be unworthy of the sires? Never shall it be said that the children were unworthy their inheritance of Freedom. Old as I am, I would take a musket, and go forth in the name of the Lord. Shame on the Scots and English if they desert us in our hour of need. Are they not our own kith and kin?

But whether they aid us, or whether they desert us, we will stand firm, and be true to ourselves. Our cause is good, and we are bound to win, as we won before. Only stand firm, shoulder to shoulder. Shall we bow down to Popery? No, by the G.o.d that made us, No. Shall we truckle to Rome, shall we become slaves to Popish knaves, shall we become subservient to priestcraft and lying and roguery and trickery?

Never shall it be said of us. We claim to be part and parcel of the glorious British Empire. We have helped to upbuild that Empire, and we claim our inheritance. We will NOT sell our birthright, we will NOT connive at the destruction of Britain's greatness, we will NOT have Home Rule. 'Shall we from the Union sever? By the G.o.d that made us, never!'"

The people listened silently, with grave, earnest faces. They mean business. During my first visit to Belfast I interviewed the leading citizens, the clergy, n.o.bility, and gentry. This time I spoke with artisans and craftsmen, and I found the same feeling, a deep and immovable resolve to fight till the last extremity. It should be remembered that all Ulstermen are not Orangemen. But the religious bodies which have held aloof from Orangeism are just as determined. On the Irish Church question the Orange body stood alone. The dissenting sects were against them everywhere. All are united now, and the attempt to force Home Rule on these resolute men would be attended by the most awful consequences. They are not of a breed that easily knocks under. They remind you of the Scottish Covenanters. They are men with whom you would rather dine than fight. In Belfast, besides Mr. Fullwood, of Birmingham, previously mentioned, I met with Mr.

Lyons, of Newcastle-on-Tyne, who in his walks abroad in the city had put down in his pocket-book the names of all streets he judged to be exclusively Catholic. He was right save in three cases, where the people were mixed. He also observed that in the poorer quarters the windows of all Protestant places of wors.h.i.+p were protected by wire netting, but that the Catholic chapels were not so protected. As the Protestants are three to one, he thought this a curious commentary on the statements anent Orange rowdyism. Mr. Deacon, of Manchester, and the Englishmen hereinbefore mentioned were present at the Orange Hall, and all saw what I have related. Mr. Henry Charlton, J.P., of Gateshead-on-Tyne, agrees with them that the religious question is the secret of the whole agitation, and that the sooner a leading statesman meets the Home Rule movement on this, the true ground, the better for the country. "We are too squeamish in England. We fear to offend our Catholic friends, with whom there is no fault to be found. But we want an influential speaker to say at once that the conflict is reality between Protestantism and Popery. The best plan would be to state things as they are, and to meet the enemy directly." So spoke one of these visitors, a gentleman of great political experience. Is this opinion not well worth consideration? Is not the time for soft speaking nearly over?

Mr. Dillon says he will manage Ulster. He will need the British Army at his back. His Army of Independence will not avail him much. The position of the Nationalist members towards Ulster is not unlike that of the Chinaman who wanted an English sailor punished. "There he stands," said the skipper, "go and punch his head." "No, no," said the Celestial complainant, "me no likee-pikee that way. But spose three, five, 'leven big sailors tie him up, hold him fast, then very much me bamboo he." And that is how the Dillonites would hope to manage Ulster.

Belfast, July 15th.

No. 49.--THE CONSt.i.tUTION OF THE ORANGE LODGES.

Portadown is another of the clean, well-built towns of Ulster dependent for its prosperity on the linen trade. The River Bann flows through it, a fine stone bridge spanning its waters in the princ.i.p.al street. Everybody seems comfortably off, and dirty slums are nowhere to be found. Some of the shops are very much larger than the size of the town would seem to warrant, and one ironmonger's store is far larger than any similar shop in Birmingham. The Presbyterian meeting-house, on the right as you enter, and the Protestant Church, which occupies a conspicuous position at the meeting of two main thoroughfares, are plain, substantial buildings without any striking architectural pretensions, and the Orange Hall, which seems an indispensable adjunct of all "settler" towns, is also modest and una.s.suming. The meadows bordering the Bann are spread with miles of bleaching linen, for which the river is especially famous, its waters having a very superior reputation for the production of dazzling whiteness. The town is half-a-mile from the station, which is an important junction, and the number of cars in waiting show that the people expect the coming of business men. When first I visited the town, placards announcing drill meetings at the Orange Hall were everywhere stuck up, but I saw none during my last march round.

Perhaps the Orangemen have completed their arrangements. The Portadown people have no intention of accepting Home Rule. On the contrary they are determined to have none of it. At present they are quiet enough, because they are confident that the bill can never pa.s.s, and they do not wish to meet trouble halfway. The House of Lords is their best bower anchor, and for the present they leave the matter with the peers. So they mind their work, and spend their time in making linen.

When they demonstrate they do it with a will, but they cannot live by demonstrations, and they are used to paying their way. They see what happens in so-called "patriotic" districts, how neglect of duty accompanies eternal agitation, and how the result is poverty and failure to meet the ordinary obligations of social life. The artisans of Portadown go to work every day, and the farmers do their level best with the land, which all about this region is highly cultivated. They claim to belong to the party of law and order, and they agree with the great orator who once said:--"The party of law and order includes every farmer who does not want to rob the landlord of his due and who does not want to be forced to pay blackmail to agitation--every poor fellow who desires to be at liberty to earn a day's wages by whomsoever they are offered him, without being shunned, insulted, beaten, or too probably murdered." The orator in question bears the well-known name of William Ewart Gladstone, now intimately a.s.sociated with the names of Dillon, O'Brien, s.e.xton, O'Connor, Tim Healy, and the rest of the agitators to whom he was referring in the above-quoted speech, delivered at Hawick just ten years ago.

A Portadown Orangeman complained bitterly of the att.i.tude of the English Gladstonian party with reference to his order. He said:--"We have been denounced as rowdies and Orange blackguards until the English people seem to believe it. They never think of comparing our record with the record of the party denouncing us, nor do they know anything of the history and const.i.tution of the order. We have always been loyal, always friends of England, and that is why the Nationalist party so strongly disapprove of us. We have never occupied the time of the English Parliament, nor have we leagued ourselves with the enemies of England. We have maintained order, and taken care of English interests in Ireland, besides looking after our own personal affairs.