England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; English fiction -- 20th century; Journalists -- Fiction
He spoke this evening with energy, lucidity, humour, and vehemence, and
the Club listened appreciatively. Gradually he worked them up from
personal approval of himself to partial approval of, or at least
sympathy with, his cause. He went into the financial question with an
imposing production of figures. He began several times, “The
Nationalists will tell you,” and then proceeded to repeat precisely what
the Nationalist the other night _had_ told them, only to knock it down
with an argument that was sometimes conclusive, often would just do, and
occasionally just wouldn’t; and the Club cheered the first sort,
accepted the second as ingenious, and said “Oh,” good-humouredly, to
the third. Altogether it was an excellent speech, full of profound
conviction, with some incontrovertible sense, and a smattering of
intelligent nonsense. Not a word was dull, and not a word was unkind to
the Pope of Rome or his adherents, as is usual, and perhaps essential,
in such speeches when produced in Ireland, and necessitates their
careful expurgating before they are delivered to English audiences, who
have a tolerant, if supercilious, feeling towards that misguided Church.
The young man spoke for half an hour, and held his audience. He held
them even when he said, drawing to the end, “I wonder do any of you here
know anything at all about Ireland and Irish politics, or do you get it
all second-hand from the English Radical papers? Do you know at all what
you’re talking about? Bad government, incompetent economy, partiality,
prejudice, injustice, tyranny--that’s what the English Radicals want to
hand us over to. And that is what they will not hand us over to, because
we in Ulster, the most truly and nationally Irish part of Ireland, have
signed this.” He produced from his breast-pocket the Covenant, and held
it up before them, so that they all saw the Red Hand that blazed out on
it. He read it through to them, and sat down. Cheers broke out, stamping
of feet, clapping of hands; it was the most enthusiastic reception a
speaker had ever had at the Club.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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