"feeling is deep and still, and the word that floats on the surface
is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden."
—longfellow.
mr. forster made his notorious attack upon mr. parnell in february, 1883, accusing him of encouraging and conniving at murder, outrage, and treachery. on his return home parnell showed, as he would not deign to show in the house, a fierce joy in the false move of his enemies and the scorn and contempt of the lack of control which could lead a politician of forster's experience into such a faux pas as this personal attack on him. here, then, he had what he wanted; in this attack was the repudiation of those charges, made by the "extremists" in ireland and america, of pandering to the government—made by them ever since he left kilmainham on the treaty—here was another cord to bind the nationalist forces together without in any way repudiating that treaty. here was a fresh weapon given into his hand by an ex-government official who could not govern his personal spleen by political intelligence.
"no," he said to me, when i asked him if he did not mean to answer forster at all, "i shall not answer. i shall let him hang himself with his own rope."
but the party would not have this, and urged him so strongly that he did—not answer—but show his contempt of the whole thing and of the english politicians who had played their hand so badly. he said to me before he started {220} for the house: "by the judgment of the irish people only do i, and will i, stand or fall," and this he repeated in the house.
the astonishment of the house was unbounded. it had been prepared for anything but this scornful repudiation of the right of the english to judge him—for a downright denial of the charges made, for a skilful fencing with the arguments. the speech of parnell was a challenge to war. impassive as ever, betraying no slightest sign of emotion, he tore up the accusations and threw them scornfully in the face of his accuser.[1]
some time afterwards, in an interview i had with him, mr. gladstone referred to this declaration of parnell's—that he would stand or fall only by the judgment of the irish people.
he said: "you know mr. parnell's inmost feelings better than others; does this truly represent his mind, mrs. o'shea?"
i answered, as i could truly do: "yes, mr. gladstone, that is his only and absolute ideal. i may say ireland's is the only voice he regards as having any authority over him in the whole world."
"yet mr. parnell is so much an englishman in his coldness and reserve?"
"he is a paradox, mr. gladstone, the enigma of genius herself, a volcano capped with snow. englishman himself, at least he is descended from englishmen, he hates england and the english and does not understand them; he loves ireland and her people through and through, {221} understands them absolutely, and is in nature as apart and aloof from the irish nature as you are yourself."
the hard, flint-like eyes softened a little in the eagle face as the g.o.m. answered with a little sigh: "i have much sympathy with his ambitions for ireland, mrs. o'shea. his is a curious personality; you are right, i think—yes, a paradox indeed, but a wonderful man!"
at the end of june, 1883, parnell went over to conduct mr. healy's election at monaghan (an ulster stronghold), for which division he was returned a month after he had quitted richmond prison.
he immediately afterwards (on july 4) attended the cork banquet given in his honour. he wrote the following letter to me to allay the fears i had expressed in regard to certain political actions which he here repudiates and which had reached my ears from other sources:—
morrison's hotel, dublin,
tuesday night.
when i received your note i at once determined to go over to you to-morrow morning and to give up my engagement to speak at the cork banquet to-morrow night, as i knew my own was very much troubled about something, and felt sure that i could comfort and reassure her. i have since been besieged the whole evening by entreaties and threats not to throw over cork, and it has been represented to me, and with truth, that half the result of the monaghan victory will be lost if i leave cork to the whigs and my enemies. i have been very much perplexed and dragged in different ways, but have at this hour (2 a.m.) made up my mind to ask my own wifie to suspend her judgment for another twenty-four hours about whatever is tormenting her, to place some little confidence in her husband's honour and fidelity for that short time, and to believe that he now swears to her, and that he will repeat the same oath to her on thursday evening, that whatever statement has been made about him which is calculated to {222} lower him in his wife's opinion in the slightest degree is a foul lie.
i feel that i can ask this of my own wifie, and that she will not withdraw her confidence and love from her own husband until he can return and defend himself.
i shall leave for cork by to-morrow morning's train at nine o'clock, speak at banquet, and return by night mail the same day to dublin, and be in time to leave dublin by mail train for london on thursday morning. let me know at palace chambers where i shall see you on thursday evening.
trust your husband, and do not credit any slander of him.
avondale, rathdrum,
2 a.m., july 4, 1883.
my dear mrs. o'shea,—i seize a vacant moment to write you a few words, as it does not look as if irish affairs would permit me to see you for some time longer. perhaps even a week or ten days may pass by before i can see eltham again. i also wish you to forward enclosed to captain o'shea, as i have not got his address.
i have had several conversations with fr. white, who is a very superior man, and has impressed me very much.
i intend to make it my first business to look up west clare, and trust that captain o'shea may be able to meet me there.—with best regards, yours always sincerely,
c. s. parnell.
morrison's hotel, dublin,
tuesday.
my dearest wifie,—your letters received, and always give me the greatest happiness to read.
please continue writing. i will make arrangements to have them kept out of sight here.
shall see him[2] wednesday evening or thursday morning, and do what i can. i fear his position in clare is irretrievable.—with best love, your husband.
{223}
avondale,
sunday.
my dear mrs. o'shea,—will you kindly direct, enclose, and post enclosed.
many thanks for your letter, also for two from captain o'shea, which i will reply to shortly.—believe me, in haste, yours very truly, chas. s. parnell.
just before christmas in 1883 i took a furnished house in brighton for three months for my children. i had arranged to go into a house in second avenue, which both parnell and i liked, but willie came down and insisted on my taking one facing the sea in medina terrace; so i (with difficulty) got out of my former agreement, and certainly the house willie chose was very much pleasanter, owing to its close proximity to the sea.
willie undertook to stay here to be with the children while i went back to my aunt (coming myself to brighton for one or two days in the week).
willie asked parnell to come and stay. he did so, and willie and he discussed the local government bill at all hours, as parnell wished to find out what the views of mr. chamberlain and the tories were—better ascertainable by willie than others.
i went back to my aunt for christmas eve. it was bitterly cold, and as the old lady never cared for festivities, she was soon glad to shut herself up in her warm house and "forget in slumber the foolish junketings i permit in my domestics, my love."
there was snow that christmas, very deep at eltham; and parnell, who had joined me there, walked round the snowy paths of my aunt's place with me in the moonlight. now and then he moved with me into the shadow of the trees as a few lads and men, with the inevitable cornet and {224} trombone of a village "band," plunged through the drifts on their short cut to the old house. there they sang christmas carols to their hearts' content, knowing they were earning their yearly bonus, to be presented with a polite message of her "distaste" for carol singing by "mrs. ben's" (as she was affectionately called in the village) man-servant the next morning.
parnell and i enjoyed that pacing up and down the wide terrace in the snowy moonlight. the snow had drifted up against the old urns and the long, low balustrade that divided the north and south lawns; and the great shadows of the beech trees looked unfamiliar and mysterious—pierced here and there, where the blanket covering of snow had dropped off, by the cold glitter of moonlight on the whiteness.
right away to the south lay the "chase," leading away to chislehurst, wide, cold, and lonely in the moonlight, and i told parnell that the cloud shadows that flitted over the glistening whiteness were the phantoms of the hunters of king john's time, who used to hunt over this ground, renewing their sport in the moonlight.
parnell loved to hear these little imaginations, and i loved to tell them to him for the sake of seeing the grave smile come, and of hearing the na?ve "is that so?" of his appreciation.
we walked up and down in the moonlight till the carols died away, and we heard the church clocks strike twelve. then we stood together to listen to the christmas bells sound clear and sharp from many villages on the frosty air, while parnell again spoke to me of his belief that the soul after death resumed life in the planet under whose influence it was born. he spoke of his belief in a personal destiny and fate, against which it was useless {225} for mortals to contend or fight, and how he believed that certain souls had to meet and become one, till in death the second planet life parted them until the sheer longing for one another brought them together again in after ages.[3]
i said, "but it seems so lonely like that!" and he answered, "it is lonely; that is why i am so afraid always of death, and why i hope with every bit of me that we shall die together."
the next day i went to brighton to see the children for christmas, and in the new year willie went to ireland, returning to brighton to stay with the children for a short time before they came home in february and he went to lisbon.
the following telegrams and letters show the development of affairs during the course of this year:—
(telegrams.)
feb. 29, 1884.
(handed in at the house of commons office.)
from parnell.
to mrs. o'shea, eltham, kent.
thanks. happy to accept your invitation to dinner this evening for seven o'clock.
may 30, 1884.
from parnell, avondale.
to mrs. o'shea, eltham.
captain and i arrived safely.
(willie went to stay at avondale for a couple of days.—k. p.)
{226}
may 31, 1884.
(rathdrum office.)
from parnell.
to mrs. o'shea, eltham.
captain leaves here to-morrow (sunday) morning, and leaves kingstown to-morrow evening.
dublin,
sept. 10.
willie is looking very well indeed, in fact much better than i have ever seen him before.
i hope soon to be through pressing business here and in country, and to be able to leave on saturday.—yours, c. s. p.
friday, oct. 28, 1884.
my dear mrs. o'shea,—i shall be at dover for a few days longer, and afterwards propose visiting the netherlands and returning through paris. if i thought that captain o'shea would soon be in england i should wait for him, but if not should take my chance of meeting him in paris on my return.
my stay in the netherlands will not exceed three days, but i shall remain in paris for at least a similar period. i say "the netherlands" because i don't yet know whether i shall have to go to holland or belgium or both. kindly let me have a line or wire to former address.—always yours,
chas. s. parnell.
i was ill at the time the following letters were written, and captain o'shea was coming to eltham a good deal.
eltham, 1884.
should have come sooner, but could not get away. there was an explosion of a bomb at the home office just before i left; it blew down a large piece of the front wall and did a great deal of damage, they say.
i will not go near the hotel to-night if i see a crowd there, {227} and will leave early in the morning and come down here to breakfast.
eltham,
friday, 4 p.m.
i came down here late last night and was immensely relieved to hear that you were better.
i slept very comfortably here last night, and had an excellent breakfast this morning, which phyllis brought me.
am now going up to london to settle the report of labourers' committee, which had not time to attend to yesterday, and hope to be back about eleven o'clock.—yours, c. s. p.
eltham.
do you think i had best wait here or go up to london and wait for a telegram from you?
we finished our committee yesterday, so if he[4] goes early i could return perhaps early enough to see you this evening for a few minutes.
i felt very much relieved by your letter last night. however, it is evident you must take great care.
if you think i had best not wait, will you telegraph? otherwise see me later, when i will wait.—yours.
eltham.
many thanks for kind note.
i am going to london now, and hope to return reasonably early, as the debate is not likely to last long. i do not feel the cold at all.
there ought to be no difficulty in my seeing you to-morrow, and i will manage it.
i do not like your having a headache, and you must really take care of yourself and not get up too soon.—yours always.
i am obliged to go up early to attend labourers' committee, which meets at eleven to-day to consider its final report.
please send me telegram to house if you can, as i ought to be able to return early this evening.
phyllis is looking after me first rate.—yours.
{228}
parnell was always unselfish and most considerate when i was ill, and once when i was very weak after an illness of some duration he returned home to eltham in broad daylight in a hansom cab, triumphantly supporting one end of a large couch, the other end of which spread its upholstered length over the roof. this invalid's chair he with the help of my maids, arranged in my sitting-room, adjusting its complicated "rests" with earnest abstraction, after which he led the procession up to my room, and in spite of my amused protests carried me down and placed me on the couch amid cushions and shawls, and spent a happy evening in "watching me" as i lay comfortably on my new possession.
in 1884 we ran down to hastings for a few days in the middle of the session, when my aunt's old friend came to stay with her and gave me freedom. parnell delighted in these sudden "run-away" visits to the sea when the house was in full swing of business, and said they braced and freshened him up more than anything else could do. we stayed at the queen's hotel, and parnell revelled in the sudden freedom from politics—casting all thought and care from him as we walked by the sea and gave ourselves up to the enjoyment of the fresh salt air.
he was hugely pleased, on going into a shop in robertson street for notepaper, to find some embossed with the monogram "k.p." in blue and gold. he declared it was a good omen, and bought me more boxes of it than i could use for many years. he also bought me a little red diary, after long and earnest efforts in selection. red he did not like much, as he said it was the sanguinary hue of english oppression; but diaries can apparently only be bound in red, green, or purple, and purple was the {229} colour of sorrow, and green the most painful expression of all ill-luck!
this diary was to make up to me for my natural indignation at, nearly, his first act on returning to me from some absence. he had gone over to the fire and caught sight of my diary, bound in green, that i had inadvertently left on the mantelpiece. with an exclamation of horror he had thrown it straight into the fire, holding me back from the rescue i struggled to attempt, and only replying to my indignant protests that he was sorry if the contents were really so valuable as i said, but anything between green covers was better burnt!
in these short visits to the seaside we always looked about for a house that parnell could buy later on, but as he always kept a regretful eye upon brighton, where it was inexpedient that we should be seen much together, we never really settled on one for purchase, though he rented one in eastbourne with that idea, only to discover that a brother of his was living there. when we had a few hours to spare we had very happy times hunting round sussex in the neighbourhood of brighton (brighton air did him so much good), hoping to find a suitable country house, but the train service was always a difficulty, except in the town itself.
