Part 15 (1/2)

”What on earth am I to do?” said Moyne.

”You can write to the papers, to-morrow,” I said.

”But now?” said Moyne, ”now.”

”The only thing I can think of,” I said, ”is to start them singing 'G.o.d Save the King.' That will commit them more or less--at least it may.”

Moyne rose to his feet and asked all the bands present to play ”G.o.d Save the King.” Babberly backed him and the bands struck up.

Considering that the audience had just pledged themselves with inarticulate oaths and most terrifying psalmody to march in Malcolmson's army, their enthusiasm for the King was striking. They sang the National Anthem quite as whole-heartedly as they had sung the hymn. They are a very curious people, these fellow-countrymen of mine.

Moyne cheered up a little when we got back to the club.

”That was a capital idea of yours, Kilmore,” he said. ”I don't see how they can very well accuse us of being rebels after the way we sang the National Anthem.”

”I wonder if they'll impeach Babberly,” I said.

”Oh, that's only a Labour Member,” said Moyne. ”He doesn't really mean it. Those fellows never do.”

”Do you think our people really meant it to-day?” I said.

”Meant what? G.o.d Save the King? Of course they did.”

”I was thinking of the hymn,” I said.

”I hope to G.o.d,” said Moyne, ”they didn't mean that.”

This is a curious view of hymn-singing for a religious man to take.

CHAPTER XIII

I cannot make out why everybody thinks I am a Liberal. Lady Moyne was the first who mentioned to me this slur on my character. Babberly evidently believed it. Then, shortly after the Belfast meeting, I had a letter, marked ”Private and Confidential,” from Sir Samuel c.l.i.thering. Although c.l.i.thering is not a member of the Government, he is in close touch with several very important Ministers. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances I should not mention c.l.i.thering's name in telling the story of his letter. I know him to be a conscientious, scrupulously honourable man, and I should hate to give him pain. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, that is, if things had gone in Ulster in the way things usually do go, c.l.i.thering would have felt it necessary to a.s.sert publicly in the papers that he did not write the letter. This would have been very disagreeable for him because he does not like telling lies; and the unpleasantness would certainly be aggravated by the fact that n.o.body would believe him. So many important and exciting things, however, have happened in Ulster since I got the letter that I do not think c.l.i.thering will now want to deny that he wrote it. I have, therefore, no hesitation in mentioning his name.

This letter was written in the best politico-diplomatic style. I had to read it nine times before I could find out what it was about. When I did find out I made a translation of it into the English of ordinary life, so as to make quite sure of not acting beyond my instructions.

I was first of all complimented on not being a party politician. This, coming from one of the Government wire-pullers, meant, of course, that I was in his opinion a strong Liberal. I have noticed for years that the only party politicians in these islands are the people who are active on the other side; and that party politics are the other side's programme. My correspondent evidently agreed with Lady Moyne and Babberly that as I was not a Conservative, I must be a supporter of the Government.

Having made this quite unwarranted a.s.sumption, the letter went on to suggest that I should ask Conroy if he would like a peerage. The point was not made quite clear, but I gathered that Conroy could have any kind of t.i.tle that he liked, up to an earldom. I know, of course, that peerages are given in exchange for subscriptions to party funds, by the party, whichever it may be, which receives the subscriptions. I did not know before that peerages were ever given with a view to inducing the happy recipient not to subscribe to the funds of the other party. But in Conroy's case this must have been the motive which lay behind the offer. He had certainly given Lady Moyne a handsome cheque. He was financing McNeice's little paper in the most liberal way. He had, I suspected, supplied Crossan with the motor car in which he went about the country tuning up the Orange Lodges. It seemed quite likely it was his money with which Rose's young man bought the gold brooch which had attracted Marion's attention. Conroy was undoubtedly subsidizing Ulster Unionism very generously. I suppose it must have been worth while to stop this flow of money. Hence the suggestion that Conroy might be given a peerage. This, at least, was the explanation of the letter which I adopted at the time. I have since had reason to suppose that the Government knew more than I did about the way Conroy was spending his money, and was nervous about something more important than Babberly's occasional demonstrations.

My first impulse was to burn the letter and tell my correspondent that I was not a politician of any sort, and did not care for doing this kind of work. Then my curiosity got the better of my sense of honour.

A man cannot, I think, be both an historian and a gentleman. It is an essential part of the character of a gentleman that he should dislike prying into other people's secrets. The business of the historian, on the other hand, is to rake about if necessary through dust-bins, until he finds out the reasons, generally disreputable, why things are done.

A gentleman displays a dignified superiority to the vice of curiosity.

For the historian curiosity is a virtue. I am, I find, more of an historian than a gentleman. I wanted very much to find out how Conroy would take the offer of a peerage. I also wanted to understand thoroughly why the offer was made.

Some weeks were to pa.s.s before I learned the Government's real reason for wanting to detach Conroy from the Unionist cause; but luck favoured me in the matter of sounding Conroy himself. I had a letter from him in which he said that he was coming to our neighbourhood for a few days. I immediately asked him to stay with me.

Then I tried, very foolishly, to make my nephew G.o.dfrey feel uncomfortable.