Dick took me out to lunch. He insisted I should go alone with him.
He knew exactly where to take me. We crossed Fifth Avenue and went
along West 55th Street and down some steps to a restaurant called the
“Mayflower,” where he seemed to be known there. Dick ordered the food,
talked familiarly to the waitress and produced two dollars to pay the
bill. He then took me to a toy shop in Fifth Avenue; he knew the way
there, too, and I had to pay five dollars for a submarine----!
I dined with Mr. and Mrs. Barmby, who took me to Carnegie Hall to hear
Sir Philip Gibbs’ lecture on the Irish question. It was a subject that
seemed to demand great courage to tackle, and, of course, it asked
for trouble. Outside on the side walk, women went back and forth with
placards full of insults about England. It roused all my fighting
instincts. I said to one of them aggressively, “I’m proud I’m English!”
and she put her tongue out at me. Why was I proud to be English? I
never feel very English ordinarily, but these people affected me this
way.
The hall was packed. Gibbs prefaced his lecture by hoping it was going
to be a pleasant and a friendly meeting, which made the audience laugh.
It certainly remained friendly longer than I had expected, but when the
interruptions came they were ridiculously feeble and ill-organized. A
bunch of women in the dress circle, screamed in high-pitched voices
and waved the United States and the Sinn Fein flags. One man in the
gallery had to be evicted, amid applause of the house.
Sir Philip never was flustered, never did I see anyone so calm and so
self-possessed. Finally he told them they were very silly people, and
not patriots. He said they were not Irish, but he believed they were
Bolsheviks! (Applause from the house.) When the gallery got too noisy
and he had to stop, there was a dramatic moment when a tall, good
looking priest suddenly appeared upon the platform, shook hands with
Gibbs and then waited for a lull. He then announced himself as “Father
Duffy” (wild applause). Of course I, in my ignorance knew nothing of
Father Duffy, and learnt later he was chaplain of the 69th Regiment,
and went with them to France and distinguished himself on the field of
battle. He said that he was a Sinn-Feiner, but that he asked fair play
for Sir Philip Gibbs, whom he thought was a fair man, and he wanted to
hear what he had to say. Some other time, he said, “we will fill a hall
for ourselves and discuss our own subject, but to-day let us hear what
Sir Philip has to say.”
He did much towards restoring order. I liked his personality, he had
courage and dignity. Sir Philip certainly did speak fair, he was
fair to both sides. He did the almost impossible: he was sympathetic
about Ireland, yet loyal to England. Moreover, he remained calm,
patient, and unruffled throughout the interruptions. In the end he
advocated Dominion Home Rule for Ireland, which enraged the agitators.
He said they never would be a Republic, and the house applauded
enthusiastically, and on every occasion displayed strong pro-British
sympathy. I was amazed. Again I was looking for this anti-British
wave I hear so much about. Outside, afterwards, the Irish agitators
did everything in their power to start a riot. The police were very
good-humored and very competent. It must be pleasanter at this moment
to be an Irish policeman in New York than in Ireland!