UNCHARACTERISTICALLY, IAN Paisley was worrying away at his farewell speech late into yesterday evening.
For over 60 years he has been a fundamentalist preacher; for the guts of 50 years he has been a firebrand politician, so his final oration or sermon should have been second nature to him, a thunderous last hurrah.
Where was the problem when here was a man who, in any case, seldom stuck to the words on the paper before him?
But no, even shortly before he went on stage yesterday evening at the Balmoral Hall in the Royal Ulster Agricultural Society grounds in south Belfast – the equivalent of Dublin’s RDS – he was making last-minute amendments to his speech.
“Brother, it’s hard to cram all your career into 40 minutes,” he said. Indeed. From Dr No to the Yes Man; from stirring up trouble in the 1960s when unionist leader Terence O’Neill – one of many he toppled – had no inkling of the firestorm that was coming; from wrecking every powersharing deal on offer going back to the 1970s, to finally – when there was a deal that suited him and his party’s ambitions – entering into government with Martin McGuinness, but at least doing the business with spirit, generosity and energy.
So, no wonder he had a lot to squeeze into the speech – not that McGuinness got a mention. Still, there will be more speeches because, while in the Balmoral Hall he stood down as DUP leader, it will take until Thursday before he hands over the post of First Minister to Peter Robinson, who is formally appointed DUP leader this morning.
Throughout the evening, people arrived steadily to pay obeisance to 82-year-old Dr Paisley. There were some 700 people in the hall last night.
Later, 350 people moved across the grounds for a £100 a plate dinner in the building known as the Threepenny Bit.
Among them were his son Ian jnr with his three-year-old son Matthew in his arms, his wife Fiona, and three other children, Emily (14), Lucy (12), and Thomas (6) alongside. “I am feeling an avalanche of emotions, to tell you the truth,” he said.
“No, my dad’s retirement won’t mean he’ll have more time for his grandchildren; he’s always had time for his grandchildren.”
Peter Robinson delivered the introduction, which was followed by a video of the Big Man’s life and time, climaxing with the fanfare of Dr Paisley walking slowly into the hall for a rapturous reception to the tune of the spring section of Four Seasons by Vivaldi (a Catholic priest).
Paisley and Robinson held each other’s arm aloft, symbolically sealing the succession. When he spoke, reporters were rather stumped to mine something new from an 18-page script.
He spoke of how republicans who had “killed gallant members of the RUC” now publicly co-operated with the police and supplied them “with valuable information which I hope will see the ending of the IRA army council”. He hoped too that policing and justice powers eventually would be devolved to the Northern Executive but only when the time was right.
He also praised Edwin Poots, son of his old mate Charlie Poots, for the good work he has done as culture, arts and leisure minister. This seemed a pointed reference to speculation that Peter Robinson will drop him from the Executive, a parting suggestion perhaps that Edwin should stay. Otherwise, it was a rather gentle ramble through his life.
“Oh, let me steep myself in memory’s beams/Memory the mirror of the past, the treasury of young dreams!” he recited, quoting from a hymn by Horatius Bonar. Such was the nature of his valedictory – a surprisingly understated affair, but powerful for all that. This was not a night for bombast or bluster. This was a night for a reflective Ian Paisley to pass on the baton. This was a night when there was a real sense of Northern Ireland politics never being the same again.