(NOVEMBER 1913)
There are incongruities which are humorous, and there are incongruities
which are disgusting. All humour has its source in incongruity, but so
has all sin. Sometimes the humour of an incongruity is so great that we
overlook the fact of its wickedness; sometimes the wickedness of an
incongruity is so apparent that only a saint can laugh at its humour
(for your saint laughs at things whereat your man of less sanctity,
which means of less charity and less humility, is scandalised). There
are obvious incongruities at which everyone, from a saint to a
solicitor, will at least smile. Thus, when one hears a noble air of
Gounod’s sung to such words as “My wife stole a hell of a lump of beef”;
when one meets an archbishop in gaiters wheeling a perambulator
containing his offspring, when one comes upon a bull in a china shop or
upon a member of the Chamber of Commerce in an art gallery, one smiles
no matter how respectable one is. No question of ethics enters into
these cases. It is a pity that a Gounod march should be sung to profane
words; but Gounod would suffer no diminution of just fame if all the
kleptomaniac exploits of all the wives of the world were chanted to his
music. One may have rigid ideas as to the impropriety of archbishops
wheeling their offspring in perambulators--and it is certainly going too
far to wear gaiters while doing so unarchiepiscopal a thing; but it is
not a very serious sin, if sin at all. A bull in a china shop may break
a good deal of crockery, but he can hardly break any of the
Commandments; and a member of the Chamber of Commerce in an art gallery
will not do the pictures any harm, nor, unless he be as sensitive as
some Gaelic Leaguers I have known (and that is impossible), will the
pictures do him any harm. In these instances nothing suffers but the Law
of Congruity; and laws have made so many people suffer that one can well
tolerate the notion of a law suffering once in a way.
* * * * *
But there are incongruities which disgust, or at any rate ought to
disgust. A millionaire promoting Universal Peace is such an incongruity;
an employer who accepts the aid of foreign bayonets to enforce a
lock-out of his workmen and accuses the workmen of national dereliction
because they accept foreign alms for their starving wives and children,
is such an incongruity; a public body in an enslaved country which
passes a resolution congratulating a citizen upon selling himself to the
enemies of that country, and upon making a good bargain of it, is such
an incongruity; an Irish Nationalist, unable to pull the trigger of a
gun himself, who sneers at the drillings and rifle-practices of
Orangemen, is such an incongruity. The Eastern and the Western Worlds
are indeed full of incongruities of this sort; each of them matter for a
play by a Synge.
* * * * *
To dilate a little on one of them. It is now the creed of Irish
nationalism (or at least of that Irish nationalism which is vocal on
platforms and in the press) that the possession of arms and a knowledge
of the use of arms is a fit subject for satire. To have a rifle is as
ridiculous as to have a pimple at the end of your nose, or a bailiff
waiting for you round the corner. To be able to use a rifle is an
accomplishment as futile as to be able to stand on your head to be able
to wag your ears. This is not the creed of any other nationalism that
exists or has ever existed in any community, civilised or uncivilised,
that has ever inhabited the globe. It has never been the creed of Irish
nationalism until this our day. Mitchel and the great confessors of
Irish nationalism would have laughed it to scorn. Mitchel, indeed, did
laugh to scorn a similar but much less foolish doctrine of O’Connell’s;
and the generation that came after O’Connell rejected his doctrine and
accepted Mitchel’s. The present generation of Irish Nationalists is not
only unfamiliar with arms but despises all who are familiar with arms.
Irish Nationalists share with certain millionaires the distinction of
being the only people who believe in Universal Peace--here and now. Even
the Socialists who want Universal Peace propose to reach it by Universal
War; and so far they are sensible.
* * * * *
It is symptomatic of the attitude of the Irish Nationalist that when he
ridicules the Orangeman he ridicules him not for his numerous foolish
beliefs, but for his readiness to fight in defence of those beliefs. But
this is exactly wrong. The Orangeman is ridiculous in so far as he
believes incredible things; he is estimable in so far as he is willing
and able to fight in defence of what he believes. It is foolish of an
Orangeman to believe that his personal liberty is threatened by Home
Rule; but, granting that he believes that, it is not only in the highest
degree common sense but it is his clear duty to arm in defence of his
threatened liberty. Personally, I think the Orangeman with a rifle a
much less ridiculous figure than the Nationalist without a rifle; and
the Orangeman who can fire a gun will certainly count for more in the
end than the Nationalist who can do nothing cleverer than make a pun.
The superseded Italian rifles which the Orangemen have imported may not
be very dangerous weapons; but at least they are more dangerous than
epigrams. When the Orangemen “line the last ditch” they may make a very
sorry show; but we shall make an even sorrier show, for we shall have to
get Gordon Highlanders to line the ditch for us.
* * * * *
I am not defending the Orangeman; I am only showing that his
condemnation does not lie in the mouth of an unarmed Nationalist. The
Orangeman is a sufficiently funny person; and he is funny mainly because
he is so serious. He has no sense of incongruity; in his mind’s eye he
sees without smiling Cardinal Logue sending Protestant worthies to the
stake and Sir Edward Carson undergoing the fatigues of a
campaign--things which will never be. At least, I think not; for
Cardinal Logue is kindly and humorous, and Sir Edward Carson is a lawyer
with a price. The Orangeman’s lack of a sense of the incongruous is
sometimes painful. In Belfast they are selling chair cushions with Sir
Edward Carson’s head embroidered upon them; which is pretty much as if a
man were to emblazon the arms of his country upon the seat of his
trousers. One should not put a sacred emblem where it is certain to be
sat upon and liable to be kicked; and only Orangemen would think of
honouring their chief by sitting on his head.
* * * * *
But the rifles of the Orangemen give dignity even to their folly. The
rifles are bound to be useful some day. At the worst they may hasten Sir
Edward Carson’s final exit from Ulster; at the best they may crack
outside Dublin Castle. The Editor of _Sinn Féin_ wrote the other day
that when the Orangemen fire upon the King of England’s troops it will
become the duty of every Nationalist in Ireland to join them: there is a
deal of wisdom in the thought as well as a deal of humour. Or
negotiations might be opened with the Orangemen on these lines: You are
erecting a Provisional Government of Ulster--make it a Provisional
Government of Ireland and we will recognise and obey it. O’Connell said
long ago that he would rather be ruled by the old Protestant Ascendancy
Irish Parliament than by the Union Parliament; “and O’Connell was
right,” said Mitchel. He certainly was. It is unquestionable that Sir
Edward Carson’s Provisional Government would govern Ireland better than
she has been governed by the English Cabinet; at any rate, it could not
well govern her worse. Any six Irishmen would be a better Government of
Ireland than the English Cabinet has been: any six criminals from
Mountjoy Prison, any six lunatics from the Richmond Asylum, any six
Orangemen from Portadown. The Irishmen would at least try to govern
Ireland in the interests of Irish criminals, lunatics, or Orangemen, as
the case might be: the English have governed her in the interests of
England. Better exploit Ireland for the benefit of Belfast than exploit
her for the benefit of Westminster. Better wipe out Ireland in one
year’s civil war than let England slowly bleed her to death.
* * * * *
A rapprochement between Orangemen and Nationalists would be difficult.
The chief obstacles are the Orangeman’s lack of humour and the
Nationalist’s lack of guns: each would be at a disadvantage in a
conference. But a sense of humour can be cultivated, and guns can be
purchased. One great source of misunderstanding has now disappeared: it
has become clear within the last few years that the Orangeman is no more
loyal to England than we are. He wants the Union because he imagines
that it secures his prosperity; but he is ready to fire on the Union
flag the moment it threatens his prosperity. The position is perfectly
plain and understandable. Foolish notions of loyalty to England being
eliminated, it is a matter for business-like negotiation. A Nationalist
mission to North-East Ulster would possibly effect some good. The case
might be put thus: Hitherto England has governed Ireland through the
Orange Lodges; she now proposes to govern Ireland through the A. O. H.
You object: so do we. Why not unite and get rid of the English? They are
the real difficulty; their presence here the real incongruity.