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Page 24
What economic, what intellectual problem in Ireland have you not marred
and muddled, England, my England (as the late Mr W.E. Henley used to
say)? You have worsened the maledictions of the Bible. The sins of
_your_ fathers will lie as a _damnosa h�reditas_, a damnable heritage,
upon the mortgaged shoulders of _our_ children. It is better, as Plato
taught, to suffer injustice than to inflict it. In the light of that
ethical principle you are long since judged and condemned. But with the
customary luck of England you are allowed what others were not allowed,
the opportunity of penitence and reform. The messengers of the new
gospel are at your doors, offering you in return for the plain rudiments
of justice not only forgiveness but friendship. It is for you to accept
or reject. We, the Irish, whom you have wronged, look to your decision
with interest rather than with concern. Why should we be concerned? Our
flag has been an Aaron's serpent to swallow yours. Your policies, your
ambitions, your administrations have passed by us like the transient and
embarrassed phantoms that they were. We remain. All the roads lead to
Rome, and all the years to retribution. This is your year; you have met
the messengers on your threshold. Your soul is in your own wardship. But
yet we cannot wholly separate your destiny from ours. Dedicated as we
are to the general progress of humanity and to all the generosities of
life, we await expectantly your election between the good and the evil
side.
CHAPTER VII
THE HALLUCINATION OF "ULSTER"
Ulster Unionism, in the leaders, is not so much a programme of ideas as
a demand for domination. In the rank and file it is largely a phenomenon
of hysteria. I do not know whether my readers have ever participated in
an agreeable game known as odd man out. Each player tosses a penny, and
whoever disagrees with the rest, showing a head to their tails or vice
versa, captures the pool. Such is in all essential particulars the
"Ulster Question." We find ourselves there in presence of a minority
which, on the sole ground that it is a minority, claims that in the
government of Ireland it shall be not merely secure but supreme. Sir
Edward Carson as odd man out (and I do not deny that he is odd enough
for anything) is to be Dictator of Ireland. If eighty-four Irish
constituencies declare for Home Rule, and nineteen against Home Rule,
then, according to the mathematics of Unionism, the Noes have it. In
their non-Euclidean geometry the part is always greater than the whole.
In their unnatural history the tail always wags the dog. On the plane of
politics it is not necessary to press the case against "Ulster" any
farther than that. Even majorities have their rights. If a plurality of
nine to two is not sufficient to determine policy and conduct business
in a modern nation, then there is no other choice except anarchy, or
rather an insane atomism. Not merely every party, but every household
and, in last resort, every individual will end as a Provisional
Government. Separatism of this type is a very ecstasy of nonsense, and
none of my readers will think so cheaply of his own intelligence as to
stay to discuss it. It is in other terms that we must handle the problem
of "Ulster."
The existence in certain nooks and corners of Ireland of a democratic
vote hostile to Home Rule is, let us confess, a conundrum. But it is a
conundrum of psychology rather than of politics. It may seem rude to say
so, but Orangeism consists mainly of a settled hallucination and an
annual brainstorm. No one who has not been present at a Twelfth of July
procession can realise how completely all its manifestations belong to
the life of hysteria and not to that of reason. M. Paul-Dubois, whom we
may summon out of a cloud of witnesses, writes of them as "demagogic
orgies with a mixed inspiration of Freemasonry and the Salvation Army."
The Twelfth of July is, or rather was, for its fine furies are now much
abated, a savage carnival comparable only to the corroborees of certain
primitive tribes.
"A monster procession," continues M. Paul-Dubois, "marches through
Belfast, as through every town and village of Orange Ulster, ending
up with a vast meeting at which the glories of William of Orange
and the reverses of James II. are celebrated in song.... Each
'lodge' sends its delegation to the procession with banners and
drums. On the flags are various devices: 'Diamond Heroes,' 'True
Blues,' 'No Pope.' The participants give themselves over to
character dances, shouting out their favourite songs: 'The Boyne
Water' and 'Croppies Lie Down.' The chief part is played by the
drummers, the giants of each 'lodge,' who with bared arms beat
their drums with holy fury, their fists running with blood, until
the first drum breaks and many more after it, until in the evening
they fall half-dead in an excess of frenzy."
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