Parnell's Triumph (1889)

Chapter XXIV

Parnell’s Triumph (1889)

In the 63rd day of the Forgery Commission Sir Charles Russell, rising to address it for the defence, avowed that “the utter absolute collapse of the forged letters has taken out of this inquiry its pith and marrow.”

Yet a defence was begun with Parnell’s reluctant acquiescence which occupied 63 sittings after the forgeries had been blown to pieces. The Irish public thought everything was for the best, as the Freeman did not condemn this stupidity.

The Times meanwhile secretly built on a letter of 24th March, 1889, from the Bank of England to Colonel Howard Vincent, of Scotland Yard. It forwarded a letter from Havre of John Walsh, late of Middlesbro’, dated 22nd March, 1883. This stated that Walsh lost two £10 Bank of England notes, Nos. 47LL of 7th February, 1882, and 76216 of 6th April, 1882. The Bank enclosed to Colonel Vincent a further letter from Walsh dated 26th March, 1883, explaining that he could not return to England to make good his claim, as he would be arrested in connection with Lord Frederick Cavendish’s murder because of James Carey’s evidence. Great weight was attached to these facts by The Times.

On the day Parnell was cross-examined by the Attorney-General he was caught out in a stupid misstatement. He came to me in distress to complain that his lawyers had not intervened to save him. To suppose that when he had blurted out something foolish his counsel could have come to his rescue, or that if they attempted it, good would have resulted, was childish. I did not invite his confidence, but he coursed me up and down a corridor of the House of Commons, aimlessly unbosoming himself. Every friend save his London advisers had begged him to retire from the proceedings when Pigott broke down.

The Commission held its last public sitting on the 22nd November, 1889, and when all was over a Cockney wit summed up the case with the jest, “The Times proved Parnell’s case. Parnell proved The Times’ case.”

The Judges pronounced him guiltless of writing the forged letter. Despite this triumph harassing domestic and Political anxieties were wearing him out. He suffered more from attacks owing to a frailer physique than O’Connell, Butt, or Grattan.

When the Commission reported him innocent, Lord Randolph Churchill (who, when the Bill creating it was introduced, supported the Government) denounced its proceedings. His attack was a stirring declamation. In the midst of it he asked for a glass of water. Bauman, a Tory, went out to oblige him, and when he returned with a carafe, was sardonically cheered by the Opposition. As he handed the tumbler to Randolph, the noble Lord said, “I hope this will not injure you with your Party!”

After Pigott’s flight, the attitude of Speaker Peel softened towards us. Before that, we had the sympathy of every official in Court, and the audience, as well as of the “man in the street.”

The House of Commons gave Parnell a noble welcome after the collapse of The Times. The Opposition rose to cheer him when he took his seat. That was his last scene of triumph.

He was cynical about his legal advisers. He told me, “Lewis pays Russell refreshers in the morning, and wins them from him at night at cards.” Yet he thanked Sir George publicly for the moderation of his charges.

The value of the interception of Kirby’s messages being great, I asked Parnell to present the cable clerk with a gold watch, inscribed with his name. He had ample funds, and promised to make the gift, but he never sent even a line of thanks to the man who risked his post to serve the Cause.

During the Commission amusing incidents occurred. The examination of a Kerry witness, taken in hand by Sir Richard Webster, had not finished when the Court adjourned. At the weekend The Times’ agents “shadowed” him and when he reappeared in the box Webster asked, “What were you doing in the Strand on Saturday?” Thinking he was being asked about his native shores his reply was, “Gathering say-weed, yer honour!” (In Irish-English “strand ” is used for “beach.”)

Another witness, a Dublin barber, gave an answer which supplied the London pantomimes with a catch-phrase. Webster examined him about a revolver being placed at his head, and wrung the confession that he ran away. Sir Richard commented, “Oh, you played the coward? ” “Well,” the answer came, “better be a coward for five minutes than be dead all your life!”

During the sittings Dillon and O’Brien, who had been in jail in Ireland, were brought to London by order of the Court.

Imprisoned in Holloway at night, they were allowed freedom by day. To break the tedium I had them to lunch at the Café Royal with Dr. Kenny, M.P., and T. P. Gill, M.P. Once, as we emerged into Regent Street, a waiter ran out to ask me to return and see the manager. Had I given a false coin? I asked myself. I went back and found a polite gentleman who made an appeal, and not an accusation. He said that two years before a dinner was given to General Collins of Boston (then American Consul-General to London) by Parnell, costing about £70. An account had been sent in several times, but it had not been paid. I had suggested originally to Parnell that the Party, and not he, should provide hospitality, but he said expansively, “Oh, no, I’ll give it myself.” Yet the Café Royal was left without payment. Dr. Kenny, treasurer of the League, met the bill forthwith out of the funds of the Organization.

William Murphy, M.P., to whom I told this, narrated that Parnell, on being elected for Meath in 1875, attended an auction at Glasnevin Cemetery, Dublin, where the gear or plant used in building a mortuary chapel was to be sold. Murphy asked him what he wished to bid for, and in order to spare him delay, said he would buy it in. Parnell was grateful and told him he wanted a weighing machine, and went his way. It fetched £12, or £15, and Murphy gave a cheque to the auctioneer, and dispatched it (carriage paid) to Avondale. Parnell never acknowledged the courtesy or the machine, and Murphy disdained to dun him.

The Commission hit The Times hard, but the Irish people defrayed the costs of their representatives. W. H. Smith, leader of the House, approached me with an offer that the Government would pay the expenses of both sides. I refused to convey this to Parnell (although it would have placed our Party in command of large resources), saying that Smith should see Parnell himself. Smith, overawed by his personality, never did so. The Times outlay was over £200,000, while ours was less than £40,000.

W. H. Smith was a likeable man. When moving the “closure” he used to repeat a settled formula without dreaming it could grow stale. He declared it was essential to ” promote the business of the House and the interest of the country.”

Of his early days as Minister it is recorded that, being reproached by Disraeli for his absence from a division in 1874, when the Government was beaten on a question about herring-branding in Ireland, Smith replied, “This is a neglect that shall not occur again.” If he had told Disraeli that he was dining at the St. Stephen’s Club, opposite Palace Yard, and that members deemed this “safe,” relying on being warned by the electric bells, it would have been the fact. The electric bells were a new installation, and were intended to clang in the Club when a division was called, but J. P. Ronayne, Member for Cork, a wag and an engineer, severed the wires with a pliers) and the Government was defeated.

Smith once came to me to announce that, if I would move an address to Her Majesty for the removal of a Cork County Court Judge, suspected of irregularities, he would undertake that a similar resolution should be carried in the House of Lords. “In vain is the net spread in the sight of any bird.” The Judge was a Conservative, but he had been considerate to tenants in fixing fair rents. I, therefore, replied that such a motion should be proposed by a law officer of the Crown. I expected he would ask a member of his own Party to move it, but he allowed the peccant Judge to retain his office until death - showing that his sins cannot have been very heinous.

In later years Smith suffered from eczema. Yet though in torture, he would sit on the front bench with a rug round him, and he died a martyr to duty. He might have gone away on the yacht he was so fond of, but he preferred death in harness to the prolongation of life at ease. His splendid fortitude and self-abandonment were an example to many, and often-times when we were incommoded by the call of duty to Ireland we thought of his sacrifices.

George Augustus Sala, Labouchere’s witness to Pigott’s confession, was a journalist of renown. He was sent by the Daily Telegraph to Russia in the “sixties” with the pay of an ambassador.” Author of A Journey due North, he founded the Temple Bar magazine, with an imaginary quotation from Dr. Johnson on the title-page. He wrote a novel, The Seven Sons of Mammon, and enjoyed literary fame. He had photographs of all famous pictures in each gallery in Europe, so that he could at a moment’s notice describe them. When he fell into ill-health Labouchere supported him. He married his nurse, and after his death letters from Labouchere to Sala appeared in a paper called (I think) The African Critic. Its editor, Hess, had been convicted owing to Labouchere’s exposures, and he published these letters in a pamphlet which, as Sir A. Robbins narrates, was sent to every member of the House of Commons and House of Lords. My memory is that they were dated between 3874 and 1877, and ran:

Dear Sala, -

“Next week the World is going to announce that the Atlantic Cable will be bought by the Government. Buy.”

H. Labouchere.

The following week a note to the contrary effect came:

Dear Sala, -

“The World is going to announce next week that there is no foundation for the rumour that the Government will buy the Atlantic cable. Sell.”

H. Labouchere.

After their publication by his enemy, Labouchere did not again stand for Parliament.

He was a devoted follower of Gladstone, blending his admiration with a tinge of cynicism. In 1886 his semi-French intellect led him to tell the G.O.M., “The Union was carried by corruption. it must be unmade by corruption” - meaning that promises of titles should be held out to wavering supporters. This plan Gladstone refused to entertain.

Labouchere frequently told stories against himself. While a young attaché at the British Legation in Washington he and a colleague went off for a spree to Boston. They spent all their money, but wanted to dine before taking the train back, and on entering a restaurant found the waiters unusually attentive.

Labouchere intended to leave his watch with the proprietor as security for payment, and after dinner called for the bill. As he fumbled with his watch the host came up. He had mistaken Labby for Thomas Francis Meagher, a rebel of 1848, and a gallant general who commanded the Irish Brigade in the Northern Army during the Civil War. “No bill, sir,” said the proprietor. “You will never pay me. It is sufficient honour that General Meagher should dine in my establishment.” Grasping Labby by the hand he bowed him out. Meagher was the most eloquent of the ‘48 men. His “sword” speech in opposition to Daniel O’Connell’s “no drop of blood” policy is a telling piece of declamation, and moved Irishmen for generations.

After the Civil War Meagher was made Governor of Montana, then a territory. He disappeared from the steamer on the river Missouri on which he was travelling to take up duty. In 1925 a paragraph appeared in the Press stating that a man confessed when dying that he had pushed Meagher overboard.

When Labouchere contested Middlesex, he told me he was assailed with the cry, “‘Ow’s ‘Enrietta?” - the lady he married. To end this, before the speaking began at the county town, he came to the front of the platform and smilingly announced, “I wish to convey to you all the gratifying intelligence that Henrietta is quite well! ” No further interruptions were attempted.

A charming girl, afterwards Marquise de Rudini, was his daughter. About 1886 he told me that he said to his wife, “Henrietta, does it occur to you that when our girl grows up she can hardly find a match in England acceptable to us? ” “Yes,” was the answer. “Well,” he replied, “it follows she must marry on the Continent.” “Very good.” “So she should then be brought up a Catholic?” “I suppose so.” “Is there any convent in the neighbourhood to which we could send her?” “Yes, the Convent in Kensington Square.” “Let her go there to-morrow morning.” So it was done.

In the ‘forties his father was Chief Secretary for Ireland, but Queen Victoria refused to receive the son as a Minister. Gladstone, therefore had to deny him office in 1886. I conveyed this to Labby at Morley’s request. Mrs. Labouchere was present, and they received the decision with phlegm. Lord Rosebery in 1895, when Labby wished to become Ambassador at Washington, refused him the appointment. I once daringly asked Lord Rosebery the cause of their antagonism. His reply was, “I have to-day corrected the proofs of a paper relating to the matter, and locked them in my safe for publication after my death.”

I had been a critic of Lord Rosebery, but his charming son, Neil Primrose (killed in Palestine), who was devoted to his father, begged me one night to dine and cheer him up. I refused, but Neil grew sad, so I yielded. I found Lord Rosebery’s interest in everything connected with Parnell was intense. As Neil and I were about to hurry back to the House of Commons for a division, his father said, “I could sit up all night listening to stories about Parnell.” He called Neil back on the doorstep, who, when I fumed lest we should be late for the division, laughingly explained the delay by saying it was to ask what wages he was paying the chauffeur.

In 1889 the Conservative Government, despite the opposition of Labouchere, determined to make further provision for the family of the Prince of Wales, afterwards Edward VII. The Prince protested to Labby, “Do you suppose I should drown my children like puppy dogs as soon as they are born? ” “No, sir,” was the reply, “but Your Royal Highness should live within your income.”

W. H. Smith privately proposed to Gladstone that a Select Committee should be appointed to consider Royal allowances - the proceedings to be secret and unrecorded. Gladstone assented, and nominated from his own Party “safe” ingredients. Parnell and Sexton were asked by him to represent the Irish Party, although at that moment they were being indicted by the Attorney-General before the Forgery Commission. The Prince invited Parnell to lunch at the Marlborough Club, and he, with Richard Power, M.P. for Waterford, attended, for the sake of Home Rule. The Radical members of the Committee were Labouchere and Thomas Burt. Labby used to chuckle over a scene at one of its secret sittings at which he harpooned W. H. Smith, who made an incautious admission about the Crown revenues. At this, Gladstone’s eyes blazed angrily, and Labouchere, noting the fact, further embarrassed Smith, who, to defend himself, blurted out, “I never said anything of the kind!” Amazement sat on Gladstone’s brow, and Labouchere, pursuing his advantage, lashed out, “The First Lord denies in vain. I appeal to my right hon. friend, the Member for Midlothian, to corroborate my statement that the words were spoken.” Instantly Gladstone’s leonine visage fell and he crumpled up (said Labby) like “She” in Rider Haggard’s novel. Putting an open hand to his ear, he asked feebly, “What did my hon. friend say?” Labouchere repeated his assertion as to Smith’s blunder, and Gladstone in a quavering voice, simulating acute senility, stammered, “If my hon. friend desires corroboration for any statement as to some supposed remark of the First Lord, I would invite him to appeal to someone whose sense of audition is more acute than mine.” So the family of the Prince got the increased grant of £36,000 a year. Labby’s opposition was merely a pose. At heart he was a Royalist-in public a cynic and a critic for journalistic and electoral purposes only.

Gladstone’s loyalty to the Crown was part of his nature. When the Duke of Edinburgh became Prince of Saxe-Coburg about 1893 or 1894 he refused to cut down by more than half the Duke’s British allowance of £10,000 a year. Yet His Highness had become a subject of the Kaiser. Radicals rained brimstone on Gladstone, but he withstood all assaults. Admiral Field, a bitter Tory, sat next me in the debate, and I could hear him murmur again and again, “What a loyal old chap!” Yet Queen Victoria, according to the Freeman’s London correspondent, in her dislike of Home Rule, kept Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone standing outside her tent in the rain at the Jubilee celebrations of 1887. This allegation by the late J. M. Tuohy was never corroborated or reaffirmed to my knowledge.

Her Majesty, however, was dexterous in dealing with “Parliament men.” British members were once resentful of their treatment by Buckingham Palace servants at a function which Queen Victoria gave on her Diamond Jubilee. The complaints came from Liberals. Hearing of this, the Queen ordered a garden-party or reception for the Commons - I think at Windsor - where the utmost deference was paid to them. I recall that Lord Arthur Hill, M.P., a court official, solemnly handed me in the lobby a card of invitation, as a bailiff might serve a writ.

The only Nationalist who went was Sam Young, M.P. for Cavan, aged over 80, but hale and hearty. The Queen inquired if any of the Irish Party were present, and being told Mr. Young had come, desired him to be presented. Sam’s reply was perfect. He excused himself “with his humble duty,” saying to the royal messenger, “Tell Her Majesty that it might embarrass us both!

When his age reached into the nineties, seeing him dining alone in the House, I went over to him (although he was opposed to my views) to congratulate him on a birthday. “Thanky, sir,” said he in an accent that reproduced Biggar’s. “A’m ninety-three, but let me tell you that, old as I am, I still have an eye for the turn of a woman’s ankle!”

I owed Sam a courtesy, for before he entered the House the report of my Select Committee on Alcohol led the Excise to stop the “grogging” of whisky-casks which he imported from Scotland. Such casks on arrival in Belfast were steamed to extract the spirit which had soaked into the wood. It passed duty free and was used to blend or “fine down” the product of his own distillery in Limavady. Mr. Young attended the Select Committee and afterwards declared I had inflicted on him a loss of £4,000 a year. Of this I was unconscious when I stopped “grogging.” I did not know him then, nor that Mr. Joseph Devim had been a member of his staff. After he was elected for Cavan he was naturally disposed to criticize whatever course I proposed in politics, and in reply to an unexpectedly “forward” speech of his I described him as the “fiery distiller of the North.” Although a Protestant, he published letters defending the cause of the Northern Catholics, and it was by way of “ingeminating peace” that I tendered congratulations on his birthday which he received so cordially.

In 1888 Goschen’s Bill to convert “Consols” from 3 per cent. to 21 per cent. led me into a speech which pleased Gladstone greatly. He came out to waylay me in the corridors and insist that I must come to dinner. “You’ve always refused my request to visit Hawarden,” he said, “but after your speech to-day you must dine with me to-night. I will take no refusal.” He had winning ways, and I yielded, though feeling shy. Henry Fowler was of the dinner party, and as we walked back afterwards to the House, Gladstone, in the moonlight, harangued Fowler on the iniquity of Goschen’s proposals, and under the shadows of Westminster Abbey, pledged him not to exchange any trustee securities he might hold, except for cash, and to refuse to “convert.”

Biggar died in January, 1890, suddenly. I had arrived in London the day before on a summons from Parnell. Biggar took me into the “No” Lobby, his eyes filled with tears, and he mournfully said, “Tim, I must resign my seat. The doctor tells me my heart has given out, and that I can’t stay in the House!” I tried to reassure him, but in vain. That night, again at Parnell’s request, I found myself obliged to return to Dublin to appear for his secretary, Henry Campbell, in a libel suit against a Belfast paper next day.

Biggar “told” for his Party for the last time that night. Speaker Peel noticed that he made a much more lowly bow than usual as he advanced to the Chair with the other tellers when the division ended at 2 a.m. Three hours later he had given up his soul.

Parnell did not attend the funeral, or go near the church in London where the body lay. The remains were conveyed to Belfast, and the wreath Parnell sent would not have been in time had not the steamer bearing the coffin been delayed by fog. It was a shabby tribute to the great heart which Carumony encloses. Belfast Catholics were afraid lest his sister might, as next-of-kin, demand a Protestant service at the graveside. She did not do so, and Biggar’s funeral was a splendid tribute to his granite-like personality. As the coffin passed along the streets of Belfast respect for him was shown by all classes.

To my father I wrote:

Dublin,

28th February, 1890.

“Poor Biggar’s death is the greatest blow I have ever received. After yourself he was the best man I ever met. His kindness to me was unspeakable and his loss to the Party inestimable. I would have made some public allusion to it, hut I could not trust myself to speak-as yet, at any rate,

We were afraid that we could not get him Catholic burial in Belfast owing to his sister, but she did not interfere. Realizing now the clan he sprang from, the greatness of the man becomes more apparent. I was aware of all his affairs and how his will stood for many years back. He made a will every year. It was Mr. Ferguson’s wish that Butlerstown, which he left Biggar, should ultimately go to the Church, altho’ himself a Protestant.”

Cardinal Manning revealed to Arthur O’Connor what T.P. told him of the cause of Biggar’s death. I will not record it.

Biggar and I used to spend the New Year with John Barry at Bogey, in Fifeshire. In December, 1889, he came to the steamer at Belfast saying he dared not travel because of his heart. I was distressed, although I little knew he was near his end. O’Shea’s writ against Parnell had just been served, and he discussed it sadly.

The previous New Year, when we made merry at Barry’s, a robin came and perched on his shoulder. The bird would not leave him, and he sat like a statue for fear of disturbing it. How the robin got through the closed and curtained windows cannot be known. It was his last night in Bogey.

Goschen’s Budget of 1890 furnished the occasion of an unusual parliamentary stroke. He increased the whisky duty by 6d., and in a separate Bill proposed that the revenue thus obtained should form a fund to compensate publicans for the extinction of licences. The latter Bill was opposed by the Liberals and in critical divisions majorities fell as low as seven and ten. Goschen then announced that the Bill would be hung up, and the money accumulated for a future scheme. I had suspected that his Measure could not be carried, and earlier in the Session entrapped him into accepting an amendment to the Budget (Section VII) providing that the new taxation should only be appropriated by “any Act passed in the present session.” My taunt that he would find it impossible to pass the precious Bill that year so piqued him that he was led self-confidently to accept these words. Perhaps, too, he may have wished to use their insertion as a lever against reluctant colleagues in the Cabinet to force them to agree that he must get time to carry out his scheme.

Parliamentary time was then more precious to ministers than gold. However, on 24th June, 1890, he found his programme so overcrowded that he announced the dropping of the Licensing Bill. He outlined that it would only be deferred to next session, and that the new taxation would be “pooled” until then. The consternation of the Tories at this was only equalled by the jubilation of the Gladstonians. On a point of order I asked Speaker Peel whether Goschen’s plan was constitutional, and pointed out that the “Common law of Parliament” required that moneys raised within the year should be spent within the year. I relied also on my amendment to Section VII of the Budget, which Goschen apparently had forgotten, but which became law on 9th June. The Speaker upheld this contention, and in a ruling of great gravity said, “The Member for Longford has raised a question the importance of which I do not think he has overrated. I know of no precedent for such accumulation.”

W. H. Smith, as leader of the House, and Balfour were heard contra, but the Speaker held by his decision. The Government took two days to consider their course, and on the a6th June, 1890, announced the dropping of the “pooling” plan. That night Sir William Harcourt was gleeful and expressed his satisfaction to a London audience that the Bill had perished to the “throw of an Irish spear.” The “whisky money” was then applied to education.

The engrafting of my amendment on Clause VII of the Budget was a mere fluke. An American visitor, whom I had taken to the Terrace on a sunny Wednesday, asked me, when I afterwards put him “under the clock,” to “get up and say something.” I went to my seat and got hold of the Bill to see what I could do to harry Goschen. I had given notice of no amendment. Yet the Chancellor accepted words not on the Notice Paper, and this led to his undoing.

Goschen returned good for evil. When the Spanish-American War broke out in 1898 Biggar’s executor, P. J. Power, M.P., asked me to request him, as First Lord of the Admiralty, to send a warship to protect the convent at Manila, in the Philippines, where the late Miss Biggar was Mother Superior. He cordially agreed saying, “I’ll send a gunboat to-night.” On another occasion, on his own initiative he assembled the Coast Guards and all the British naval forces in Ireland to attend the funeral service in Youghal of an Irish stoker who had been parboiled by steam when shutting off the valves of a destroyer to save his comrades, after an explosion. Earlier in his career he was so hostile to Ireland that Gladstone in 1881 sent him to Constantinople as Ambassador to get rid of his opposition to the Irish Land Bill of that year. In the Cabinet of 1868 he resisted the release of the Irish political prisoners. So John Bright told O’Connor Power. In 1886, when Gladstone conjured up the dangers which must arise if his Home Rule Bill was rejected, Goschen tartly answered, “Then let us make our wills.”

During Lord Salisbury’s administration (1886-92) the Birmingham police alleged that John Daly, of Limerick, was caught in possession of bombs at a railway station, and that James Egan, with whom he lodged, also had bombs buried in his garden. Both prisoners were sent to penal servitude, and the public accepted the verdict and sentence. Years later Alderman Manton, of the Birmingham Watch Committee, declared that the “discoveries” were faked. Protests arose, and I approached Sir Henry James, Attorney-General, about 1891, to ask to be allowed to see the prisoners. He spoke mercilessly as to Daly, but got me permission to visit Egan in Portland, as he thought it possible Egan might not have been guilty. Egan’s release soon followed. Then we got word of an alleged attempt to poison Daly on two occasions. The Government made it the subject of a Commission of Inquiry. County Court Judge Selfe presided over it, with two others, one a lady. Daly’s first poisoning might be the result of accident, but what of the second? Underground accounts reached us of malice, and suspicion was at least justifiable. Judge Selfe reported that Daly had been ordered arsenic, and that the glass jar from which the arsenical fluid was taken stood on a shelf in the prison pharmacy on which the sun’s rays played. Evaporation gradually strengthened the mixture, and thus the dose given to Daly became poisonous. This dispelled the suggestion of malice on the part of the Authorities, but the prisoner had not been sentenced to be poisoned, nor was it denied that he had suffered severely. I therefore urged on the Government that such a misfortune should hasten his release, and Ministers yielded. In August, 1896, Daly appeared in the lobby of the House to thank his friends. Clad in a brown knickerbocker suit (now called “plus fours”) he presented, after 13 years of penal servitude, the picture of health. Sir Henry James came to chaff me, saying, “There is much prejudice against Daly, and I would recommend you to ask him not to reappear in the lobby. He looks so robust that questions may be asked as to our having let him out on the ground of illness.” Sir Henry was a wise as well as a fair man, and Daly went home.

In the autumn of 1890 1 was retained to defend Dillon and O’Brien with others accused at Clonmel before two Resident Magistrates for agrarian speeches. The result we knew would be six months’ imprisonment, so at a week-end adjournment, as they had much national business on hand, they came to Dublin, and from my summer resort near Bullock Harbour sailed to Prance in a fishing-smack. Thence they shipped to New York.

A delicate allusion to this by Mr. Gladstone in a note to me has a certain aroma. I had written him about a novel of Harold Frederic’s, and he answered:

Hawarden,

4th October, 1890.

Dear Mr. Healy, -

I intend certainly to read at your request the novel which the author has been kind enough to send me. It will fill interstices of time during my visit to Scotland. Had I confidence in myself as a critic I would at once promise to pass judgment upon it. As it is, I hope you will be satisfied with my engaging to give my opinion, provided that it shall seem to me worth giving.

I hope Mr. Dillon and Mr. O’Brien are enjoying a good passage in this lovely weather, and as to the “abiit erupit evadit” of the case, I am content for the present to presume that you advised them to the effect that there was no longer any legal proceeding against or obligation upon them.

You must have had hard work for your “holiday “as it is rather ironically called.

As I have Irish speaking in view, I will mention two points and beg you to notice them in reply it and only if, you have anything to say on either of them which you may think it useful that I should know.

We are still, so far as I know, without direct information about derelict farms, whether their acreage grows or diminishes. In this state of things I argue indirectly from the diminution of Irish acreage under crop which continues from year to year according to the statistical abstract.

You will remember that Mr. Balfour laid on the table a list of six cases in which “exclusive dealing” practised against individuals had been followed by crime. If there is any adverse criticism available against this statement I should be glad to know it.

(But I do not mean that without such statement I think it formidable.)

I thank you for your good wishes. We surely ought all to join in beseeching the Most High for a speedy end to this painful controversy.”

Hoping some day to welcome you here as you pass us, I remain,

Very faithfully yours,

W. F. Gladstone.

I do not know what reply I made to the Grand Old Man. Knowing that he was kindly to all, I never disparaged his friendliness as merely strategic.

O’Shea’s divorce proceedings against Parnell were launched in December, 1889. They were regarded in Ireland as a fresh perscution by The Times. Anyone who turns to the Freeman of that period will find resolutions from hundreds of branches of the National League expressing scorn at, and disbelief in, them. One of the Freeman staff, Edward Ennis, called on me. (He became Registrar to the Lord Chancellor, and later Under-Secretary for Ireland.) I asked him why the Freeman encouraged a campaign of incredulity when every one knew of the scandal. Gloomily he answered, “Oh, we have to keep up the pretence.” So notorious were the facts that David Plunket (Lord Rathmore), on returning to the Commons Lobby from the Lords one day, said to Justin MacCarthy, “Well, Justin, how is your great Chief?” “Oh,” MacCarthy replied, “we don’t see much of him.” “No? ” smiled Plunket, with the stammer which enhanced his raillery, “I suppose he prefers taking his ‘O’She-um cum dignitate’!”

In the probate suit as to the will of Mrs. Wood (mother of Mrs: O’Shea), in which Parnell was involved, the same lawyers were retained for Mrs. O’Shea as appeared for Parnell in the Forgery Commission. The case came on after the Split of 1890. It would then have served Gladstonian politicians if they could have learnt of Parnell’s share in the making or witnessing of one of the many wills of the old lady aged 90, but Russell and Lewis (both Liberals) accepted a compromise outside court and remained mute.

Parnell consulted a solicitor other than Lewis when O’Shea’s writ was served on him. He wanted to be informed whether there was any European country in which kidnapping was not extraditable. His adviser replied, “No, with the doubtful exception of Spain.” His obsession then was to take his daughter Clare, on whom he doted, with her mother out of British jurisdiction. Then he would have quitted politics for ever. Clare was legally Captain O’Shea’s child, and Parnell wanted to avoid criminal risks in taking her away.

The letter from Kilmainham Jail (12th December, 1881) to “My dear Queenie “foreshadowed this purpose.

Before the divorce trial (November, 1890) Parnell sent for Davitt and assured him that he was entirely innocent and would dispel the charge. In view of the collapse of The Times the year before under Pigott, and O’Shea’s upholding of the forgery, Davitt believed this. Yet when the trial began, Parnell made no defence, and the verdict against him went by default. Sir Frank Lockwood, afterwards Solicitor-General, was his counsel, and he told me that the woman’s pressure brought this about. A consultation was held at Lockwood’s chambers, where Parnell came with Mrs. O’Shea and announced that he would not be represented to defend. A violent scene ensued. Lockwood threatened to throw him out of the window, for he knew that “collusion” could easily be established and the suit defeated, but Mrs. O’Shea wished for a divorce in order to marry her paramour.

Lockwood noted how she held her fan before her face to shield him from her offensive breath! Parnell felt that the defence of collusion would not have helped him with his countrymen. Though he had not been in Ireland for five years, his dictatorship seemed secure, despite his neglect, and he thought his position impregnable. In his last session of Parliament as leader (1890) he never attended the House until the day of prorogation. Then he strolled into the smoke-room, which was empty save for the laborious and watchful Sexton, who for a score of years was a vigilant sentinel at Westminster, and never missed a chance to advance Irish interests. Parnell took out a cigar, and with his back to the empty fire-grate (it was August) said in a critical tone, “Sexton, never before have I known a session in which the Irish estimates were so perfunctorily discussed!”

When Sexton told me this I asked, “Did you retort that this may have been due to his absence? ” “No,” said Sexton, disdainfully, “I felt too disgusted.”

The divorce decree was granted on 17th November, 1890. I lay bedfast with typhoid, and those in pay in Dublin perverted into a pro-Parnell demonstration a meeting in the Leinster Hall called for the 20th November to support Home Rule and the claims of the Evicted Tenants. That meeting had been organized without any relation to Parnell. The admission ticket for it set forth:

“National Demonstration. A Public Meeting will be held in the Leinster Hall on Thursday, 20th November, 1890, to consider the Policy of the Government in Ireland to reiterate the National Demand for Home Rule, and to forward the Movement in aid of Evicted Tenants. Chair will be taken at 8 o’clock p.m. ,by the Eight Hon. the Lord Mayor. Platform. Complimentary.

When the proposed gathering began to assume a Parnellite complexion, Sexton refused to attend. Dillon, O’Brien, T. P. O’Connor, T. D. Sullivan, Harrington and Gill were in America. Those on Parnell’s pay-roll in Dublin cabled them beseeching a message in his favour for the meeting. A response came, signed by all save T. D. Sullivan:

“We stand firmly by the leadership of the man who has brought the Irish people through unparalleled difficulties and dangers, from servitude and despair to the very threshold of emancipation, with a genius, courage, and success unequalled in our history. We do so not only on the ground of gratitude for those imperishable services in the past, but in the profound conviction that Parnell’s statesmanship and matchless quality as a leader are essential to the safety of our Cause.”

This message affected us powerfully, and though I was in feeble health I went to the meeting The audience was frosty and depressed. To my surprise I found on the platform Justin McCarthy, and said to him, “What brings you here?” “A telegram from you, Tim!” he replied. “I sent you no telegram, Justin!” said I. He then produced this message:

Handed in at Dublin 12.35 p.m.

Received at 1.20, Chelsea, 18th November, 1890.

To Justin McCarthy, M.P., 20 Cheyne Gardens Chelsea.

“We all here think your presence at our great Meeting Leinster Hall on Thursday next of National importance as owing to Sexton’s absence no leading men of our party will be present You will understand under present circumstances how important your presence is. We entreat you come at any inconvenience. Reply.”

(Dr.) Kenny, J. E. Redmond, W. Redmond, Healy, Leamy, Clancy, Kenny (Mat).

Barry O’Brien’s Life of Parnell (vol ii page 242) shows that it was thought necessary eight years later to allege that I authorized the telegram to McCarthy, though I had never heard of it until he showed it to me. The pretence of “Sexton’s absence” was absurd. He was in Dublin. Leamy, M.P., whose name was also appended, refused to attend, although in Dublin. Leamy later on became a Parnellite. Mat Kenny’s signature was similarly appended without his authority. A few months later Dillon declared that Parnell had “trapped” his colleagues.

Justin McCarthy was to have unveiled a statue to John Bright at Blackburn that day, and assured me it was on the faith of my signature he came to Dublin. His speech in support of Parnell was a fine one, and as he sat down I whispered, “Justin, never did you speak so well!” He hissed out, “And never for a man who so little deserved it!” On this basis I began my own address.

Our speeches were largely stimulated by the attack of a Welsh clergyman, the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes, who declared that the Irish must be an “immoral race” to support Parnell. Davitt, too, came out with an onslaught on him in his Labour World. These assaults provoked many to take Parnell’s side. Yet events proved that the forces of the Rev. Hugh Price Hughes to capsize Parnell were more powerful than ours to sustain him. A few days later the English Liberals held their annual Convention at Sheffield, and there the phrase about Parnell’s sin offending the “Nonconformist conscience” was coined. Meanwhile, the Chief kept silence. The only notice he took of the gathering storm was to issue (as if nothing had happened) a summons to his Party on the 17th November to meet him at Westminster for the Winter Session on the 25th November, 1890. It was dated on the day of the Divorce Decree.

I was too poorly to travel to London to attend. Dr. Kenny, M.P., who had looked after me in typhoid, thought I should not risk the journey, but asked me for a message to take to Parnell. I told him the best thing Parnell could do would be to resign his seat for Cork, and stand again, as he would be sure of re-election, and that it would serve as an act of atonement. This was unpalatable. Kenny was so linked up with Parnell (who gave him an allowance for entertaining visitors) that he was blind to his Chief’s true interests. Had Parnell’s pride been less, he would have bent before the blast, and thus sought safety.

We remitted his philanderings to moralists. We were politicians, who wished to keep the movement on an even keel, and preserve its unity. David’s sins were not allowed to dethrone him in Israel. Parnell, however, would make no sign of remorse or acknowledgment of the existence of a public conscience. He declared in Dublin a few days after his deposition, “My fault, if it has been a fault, has not been a fault against Ireland.” This, despite the fact that Gladstone had declared his own leadership of Liberalism would become a “nullity” if Parnell remained at our head.

Parliament met on the 25th of November, 1890, and that day the Irish Party assembled in Room 15 to the number of 65 to elect a sessional Chairman. John Morley had carried to Gladstone the mutterings of the Liberal Convention at Sheffield, and handed a letter to Justin McCarthy from Gladstone, to read to the Party. Barry O’Brien’s Life of Parnell (vol. ii, page 247) denies that McCarthy was given the letter. This implies that the author consulted McCarthy, who shrank from taking the blame of not having warned his comrades. That letter, moulded by Morley at a dinner, despite the objection of Lord Spencer and Sir William Harcourt, was unhappily phrased. It declared that Parnell’s continued leadership “would be productive of consequences disastrous in the highest degree to the Cause of Ireland, and would render Gladstone’s retention of the leadership of the Liberal Party almost a nullity.” An impression had been disseminated by Parnell that his re-election would be followed by his resignation, and was only to be regarded as a” parting salute to the Chief.” McCarthy, believing this, wished to avoid unpleasantness. In other words, he supposed Parnell was a patriot, who would not bring sorrow and strife on Ireland. Parnell knew McCarthy better than McCarthy knew Parnell.

The London correspondent of the Freeman, the late J. M. Tuohy, was in Parnell’s confidence, and assured members of the Party that Parnell would announce his retirement if re-elected. Tuohy shuffled about this, when Parnell had the audacity to import him as a witness into Room 15 to contradict his colleagues. Henry Campbell, M.P., Parnell’s secretary, led others to think the Chief was going. McCarthy’s delicacy in withholding knowledge of Gladstone’s letter from his friends was due entirely to the belief that Parnell would not willingly injure the Irish Cause, and would retire after re-election. He was so amiable himself that he conceived the reading of Gladstone’s letter might harden Parnell, whereas, had it been read, Parnell could not have been re-elected.

McCarthy thought it would be a just tribute to such a leader that he should be given the opportunity of retiring of his own choice, instead of being forced out. Besides, Dillon, O’Brien, Harrington, T. D. Sullivan, Gill, and T. P. O’Connor were in America, and these men, save Sullivan, had declared for Parnell before Gladstone’s letter appeared. The fact that Davitt’s organ was hostile, and had joined in the Nonconformist outcry, was also a potent factor.

Morley made several efforts to find Parnell at Brighton and in the House of Commons before delivering Gladstone’s letter to McCarthy. Henry Campbell boasted to Mat Kenny, M.P., “Morley is searching everywhere for Parnell with a letter from Gladstone, but I’ll take devilish good care he will not find the Chief because I’ll keep him out of the way.” This statement, published 37 years ago (1891), has never been denied.

Two days before the Party met, a well-known member friendly to the Chief and always unobtrusive, Bernard Molloy, M.P., sent messengers to Brighton warning Parnell, and begging him to take counsel with his friends. He refused. Yet Parnell declared nine months later (10th September, 1891), that if Gladstone had only “by hint, whisper or innuendo “conveyed to him that his leadership was undesirable, he would at once have sought the advice of his colleagues. His dupes greedily swallowed this “thumper.”

Parnell, on the day of his re-election, entered Room 15 before anyone else. His habit theretofore had been to come late. No hour was fixed for the assembly. As to this the only intimation given was that the Party would meet “after the Queen’s Speech was read.” This left the hour in doubt, as the reading of the Queen’s Speech in the House of Lords and its reading in the Commons an hour later were different fixtures. An account of the gathering reached me in Dublin from Donal Sullivan (M.P. for West Meath):

House of Commons,

Tuesday, 25th* **November, *1890.

My Dear Tim,

“The comedy (tragedy it should be called) is over and the hour is a bad one for Ireland. Up to a minute before Parnell finished his address I thought he would conclude by announcing his resignation. We all expected it. I was led to believe it by his most devoted follower [Henry Campbell]. I hear that he himself told W. J. Lane ten minutes before the meeting that he would!! There were 66 of us at the meeting. Sexton jumped to his feet the moment Richard Power was moved to the chair, and in a dancing electric speech (cheered and cheered again by the rank and file) moved P.’s re-election as chairman. His praise and panegyrics were unusually fulsome. Colonel Nolan seconded him. And then came Ned Harrington!

Jerry Jordan delivered a most emotional little speech appealing to Parnell to resign - even if it were only for a month. He spoke as a Protestant and as an Irish patriot. He put exceedingly well all points from the English, Radical, Liberal and Gladstonian standpoint, the tremendous danger to Home Rule in England, etc., etc. He did his work creditably and most feelingly. It was received in silence. Then Parnell rose amidst cheers and cheers again. I noticed Justin (old and young), John Barry, William Abraham, P J Power, W. J. Lane and Maurice Healy did not cheer. He made a long speech, delivered coldly, calmly and bloodlessly. His strongest points were - (1) That his lips were sealed - for some time. He asked his colleagues to seal theirs! (2) He never called O’Shea his friend! (3) He never drank a glass of wine at O’Shea’s expense, nor accepted any hospitality from him. O’Shea never paid a sixpence for any compliment ever paid to him. (4) He asked his “friends around” to continue their confidence in him till the “fight he and his dead friend, Joseph Biggar, commenced, was won.” (5) when they began it - only the two of them - they had to fight and did fight, not alone the Tories, but the Whigs, the Liberals, and the Radicals (6) Was he to-day with 85 trusted friends at his back to surrender? NO - the position of esteem and confidence which his countrymen placed him in he would not surrender for any section or party, and so he would remain to assist them and to guide them to their final victory.

The Radicals are furious. The Liberals are worse. Home Rule in England, they say, is dead, and the “Old Man’s” heart is broken. I hear just as I write this that he is going to resign! He says he is too old to continue the fight under the present deplorable phase of the Irish leadership. He has but a year or two, he says, longer to live, and he will spend them in leisure and rest. I hear on the same authority that he sent word to Parnell before the meeting beseeching him to resign. And so, many of us have sore and heavy hearts. Some say that the speech of “Silken” Thomas [Sexton] made Parnell alter his determination.”

Yours always,

D. S.

Gladstone, under the impression that McCarthy had read his letter to the Party, published its text that evening. This haste was deplorable. Dismay became universal, for it was mistakenly assumed that the Party knew of the letter and flouted Gladstone. When Parnell’s devices to secure re-election were seen through, the feeling of the Party veered round. McCarthy told his alarmed friends that he had informed Parnell of the letter before the meeting, and thought he would retire after re-election. It was not just of John Morley to pick out McCarthy, an amiable and kindly personality, and make him Parnell’s headsman. He should have addressed himself officially to the secretaries of the Party, who would quickly have bruited about Gladstone’s intentions. When they learnt them, they saw they had been tricked, and Parnell was pressed to call another meeting to consider the letter. He refused. McCarthy and Sexton waited on him, but he was not even civil. Sexton then suggested that a requisition should be signed to force the calling of a fresh meeting, and this was done. Thirty-one signatories within an hour came forward.

On the requisition being delivered to Parnell he muttered, “I don’t intend to allow myself to be dictated to by a parcel of boys,” and vowed he would not attend the meeting. Warned that with him, or without him, it would be held, he re-advised himself. Next day his colleagues to the number of 64 assembled in Committee Room 15. Parnell on taking the chair inquired what the meeting was called for. Then breaking into a smile, he confessed, “Well, of course, we all know the reason.”

John Barry then moved that a further meeting be held two days later to give the Chairman an opportunity of reconsidering his position. Parnell retorted that his mind was made up, and that it was useless to ask him to retire, as he had been unanimously elected.

One of his henchmen moved an adjourment until Monday “in order to ascertain the views of the delegates in America.” This was agreed to.

On the Thursday several colleagues telegraphed me to Dublin to come to London, and, despite poor health, I went. At Holyhead I received a message from Dr. Kenny, M.P., begging me to go back, but I kept on my journey. On Friday (three days after the debate on the leadership began) I reached Westminster. Yet I was denounced later as the author of Parnell’s downfall, although before I arrived he had lost the support of the best elements in the Party.

Looking back over 38 years I bear witness that the majority which took sides against him (before I came) were men with a single eye to the interests of Ireland, and that he had not the support of half a dozen independent M.P.’s. His other backers had financial reasons for upholding him.

When I reached the House of Commons, Parnell cut me stonily. I had not then said a word unfriendly to him, beyond wiring McCarthy: “Think Parnell should defer to Gladstone.” Still I deplored Gladstone’s letter, and was anxious to smooth over difficulties and find a way out. Years later I obtained the clue to his rudeness from his secretary, Henry Campbell, whom I had helped to make Town Clerk of Dublin. He explained that D. J. Hishon, an official of the Dublin National League, telegraphed Parnell:

“Healy is going to-night to London as your deadly enemy.”

This brutality from an ignorant underling helped to shape and warp the destiny of Ireland for 20 years.

I did not conceal before leaving Dublin my view that Parnell’s buoyancy was ended and that he could not be refloated in the political storm unless he resigned and got re-elected for Cork. His re-election would not have been challenged, and but for Hishon’s message, I might have brought Parnell round to this view. But in his sorest hour he leant on the advice of dependents instead of independents. Their counsels led to his ruin and death. Though from ill-health and other causes he had become an empty shell, yet, if well backed, his shrouded personality might have been retained as a fjgure-head. The colleagues who withdrew from him only did so when he became a menace to Irish interests.

I first heard the news of Gladstone’s letter from Dick Adams, who called at my house late at night coming from the Freeman office. It grieved me, sorely, for I saw that Gladstone’s action must provoke strife in our ranks. Still, I deemed Parnell a patriot, and hoped to be able to reason with him when I reached London, both in Ireland’s interest and his own.

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