MR. O'MAHONY AS MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT.
Frank Jones had travelled backwards and forwards between Morony
Castle and the North more than once since these things were doing,
and had met the new member for Cavan together with Rachel on the very
evening on which poor Florian had been murdered. It was not till the
next morning that the news had become generally known. "I am sorry to
hear, Frank," said Rachel, "that you are all doing so badly at Morony
Castle."
"Badly enough."
"Are you fetching all these people down from here to do the work the
men there ought to do? How are the men there to get their wages?"
"That is the essence of boycotting," said Frank. "The men there won't
get their wages, and can only live by robbing the governor and men
like him of their rents. And in that way they can't live long.
Everything will be disturbed and ruined."
"It seems to me," said Rachel, "that the whole country is coming to
an end."
"Your father is Member of Parliament now, and of course he will set
it all to rights."
"He will at any rate do his best to do so," said Rachel, "and will
rob no man in the doing it. What do you mean to do with yourself?"
"Stick to the ship till it sinks, and then go down with it."
"And your sisters?"
"They are of the same way of thinking, I take it. They are not good
at inventing any way of getting out of their troubles; but they know
how to endure."
"Now, Frank," said she, "shall I give you a bit of advice?"
"Oh yes! I like advice."
"You wanted to kiss me just now."
"That was natural at any rate."
"No, it wasn't;--because you and I are two. When a young man and a
young woman are two they shouldn't kiss any more. That is logic."
"I don't know about logic."
"At any rate it is something of the same sort. It is the kind of
thing everybody believes in if they want to go right. You and I want
to go right, don't we?"
"I believe so."
"Of course we do," and she took hold of his arm and shook him. "It
would break your heart if you didn't think I was going right, and why
shouldn't I be as anxious about you? Now for my piece of advice. I am
going to make a lot of money."
"I am glad to hear it."
"Come and share it with me. I would have shared yours if you had made
a lot. You must call me Madame de Iona, or some such name as that.
The name does not matter, but the money will be all there. Won't it
be grand to be able to help your father and your sisters! Only you
men are so beastly proud. Isn't it honest money,--money that has come
by singing?"
"Certainly it is."
"And if the wife earns it instead of the husband;--isn't that honest?
And then you know," she said, looking up into his face, "you can kiss
me right away. Isn't that an inducement?"
The offer was an inducement, but the conversation only ended in a
squabble. She rebuked him for his dishonesty, in taking the kiss
without acceding to the penalty, and he declared that according to
his view of the case, he could not become the faineant husband of a
rich opera singer. "And yet you would ask me to become the faineante
wife of a wealthy landowner. And because, under the stress of the
times, you are not wealthy you choose to reject the girl altogether
who has given you her heart. Go away. You are no good. When a man
stands up on his hind legs and pretends to be proud he never is any
good."
Then Mr. O'Mahony came in and had a political discussion with Frank
Jones. "Yes," said the Member of Parliament, "I mean to put my
shoulder to the wheel, and do the very best that can be done. I
cannot believe but what a man in earnest will find out the truth.
Politics are not such a hopeless muddle but what some gleam of light
may be made to shine through."
"There are such things as leaders," said Frank.
Then Mr. O'Mahony stood up and laid his hand upon his heart. "You
remember what Van Artevelde said--'They shall murder me ere make me
go the way that is not my way, for an inch.' I say the same."
"What will Mr. Parnell do with such a follower?"
"Mr. Parnell is also an honest man," cried Mr. O'Mahony. "Two honest
men looking for light together will never fall out. I at any rate
have some little gift of utterance. Perhaps I can persuade a man, or
two men. At any rate I will try."
"But how are we to get back to London, father?" said Rachel. "I don't
think it becomes an honest Member of Parliament to take money out of
a common fund. You will have to remain here in pawn till I go and
sing you out." But Rachel had enough left of Lord Castlewell's money
to carry them back to London, on condition that they did not stop on
the road, and to this condition she was forced to bring her father.
Early on the following morning before they started the news reached
Cavan of poor Florian's death. "Oh God! My brother!" exclaimed Frank;
but it was all that he did say. He was a man who like his father
had become embittered by the circumstances of the times. Mr. Jones
had bought his property, now thirty years since, with what was then
called a parliamentary title. He had paid hard money for it, and had
induced his friends to lend their money to assist the purchase, for
which he was responsible. Much of the land he had been enabled to
keep in his own hands, but on none of the tenants' had he raised
the rent. Now there had come forth a law, not from the hand of the
Landleaguers, but from the Government, who, it was believed, would
protect those who did their duty by the country. Under this law
commissioners were to be appointed,--or sub-commissioners,--men
supposed to be not of great mark in the country, who were to reduce
the rent according to their ideas of justice. If a man paid ten
pounds,--or had engaged to pay ten,--let him take his pen and write
down seven or eight as the sub-commissioner should decide. As the
outside landlords, the friends of Mr. Jones, must have five pounds
out of the original ten, that which was coming to Mr. Jones himself
would be about halved. And the condition of Mr. Jones, under the
system of boycotting which he was undergoing, was hard to endure.
Now Frank was the eldest son, and the property of Castle Morony and
Ballintubber was entailed upon him. He was brought up in his early
youth to feel that he was to fill that situation, which, of all
others, is the most attractive. He was to have been the eldest son
of a man of unembarrassed property. Now he was offered to be taken
to London as the travelling husband--or upper servant, as it might
be--of an opera singer. Then, while he was in this condition, there
came to him the news that his brother had been murdered; and he
must go home to give what assistance was in his power to his poor,
ill-used sisters. It is not to be wondered at that he was embittered.
He had been spending some hours of the last day in reading the
clauses of the Bill under which the sub-commissioners were to show
him what mercy they might think right. As he left Cavan the following
morning, his curses were more deep against the Government than
against the Landleague.
Mr. O'Mahony and his daughter got back to Cecil Street in September
in a very impecunious state. He soon began to understand that the
position of Member of Parliament was more difficult and dangerous
than that of a lecturer. The police had interfered with him; but the
police had in truth done him no harm, nor had they wanted anything
from him. But as Member of Parliament for Cavan the attacks made on
his purse were very numerous. And throughout September, when the
glory of Parliament was just newly settled upon his shoulders, sundry
calls were made upon him for obedience which were distasteful to him.
He was wanted over in Ireland. Mr. O'Mahony was an outspoken, frank
man, who did not at all like to be troubled with secrets. "I haven't
got any money to come over to Ireland just at present. They took
what I had away from me in County Cavan during the election. I don't
suppose I shall have any to speak of till after Christmas, and then
it won't be much. If you have anything for a man to do in London it
will be more within my reach." It was thus he wrote to some brother
Member of Parliament who had summoned him to a grand meeting at the
Rotunda. He was wanted to address the people on the honesty of the
principle of paying no rent. "For the matter of that," he wrote to
another brother member, "I don't see the honesty. Why are we to
take the property from Jack and give it to Bill? Bill would sell it
and spend the money, and no good would then have been done to the
country. I should have to argue the matter out with you or someone
else before I could speak about it at the Rotunda." Then, there arose
a doubt whether Mr. O'Mahony was the proper member for Cavan. He
settled himself down in Cecil Street and began to write a book about
rent. When he began his book he hated rent from his very soul. The
difficulty he saw was this: what should you do with the property when
you took it away from the landlords? He quite saw his way to taking
it away; if only a new order would come from heaven for the creation
of a special set of farmers who should be wedded to their land by
some celestial matrimony, and should clearly be in possession of it
without the perpetration of any injustice. He did not quite see his
way to this by his own lights, and therefore he went to the British
Museum. When a man wants to write a book full of unassailable facts,
he always goes to the British Museum. In this way Mr. O'Mahony
purposed to spend his autumn instead of speaking at the Rotunda,
because it suited him to live in London rather than in Dublin.
Cecil Street in September is not the most cheerful place in the
world. While Rachel had been singing at "The Embankment," with the
occasional excitement of a quarrel with Mr. Moss, it had been all
very well; but now while her father was studying statistics at the
British Museum, she had nothing to do but to practise her singing. "I
mean to do something, you know, towards earning that L200 which you
have lent me." This she said to Lord Castlewell, who had come up to
London to have his teeth looked after. This was the excuse he gave
for being in London at this unfashionable season. "I have to sing
from breakfast to dinner without stopping one minute, so you may go
back to the dentist at once. I haven't time even to see what he has
done."
"I have to propose that you and your father shall come and dine with
me down at Richmond to-day. There is old Mrs. Peacock, who used to
sing bouffe parts at the Queen's Theatre. She is a most respectable
old party, and she shall come if you will let her."
"For papa to flirt with?" said Rachel.
"Not at all. With a party of four there is never any flirting. It is
all solid sense. I want to have some serious conversation about that
L200. Mrs. Peacock will be able to give me her opinion."
"She won't be able to lend me the money?"
"I'm afraid she isn't a good doctor for that disease. But you must
dine somewhere, and do say you will come."
But Rachel was determined not to come,--at any rate not to say that
she would come without consulting her father. So she explained that
the Member of Parliament was hard at work at the British Museum,
writing a book against the payment of rents, and that she could not
go without consulting him. But Lord Castlewell made that very easy.
"I'll go and see," said he, "how a man looks when he is writing a
book on such a subject; and I'll be back and tell you all about
it. I'll drive you down in my phaeton,--of course if your father
consents. If he wants to bring his book with him, the groom shall
carry it in a box."
"And what about Mrs. Peacock?"
"There won't be any trouble about her, because she lives at Richmond.
You needn't be a bit afraid for your father's sake, because she is
over sixty." Then he started off, and came back in half an hour,
saying that Mr. O'Mahony had expressed himself quite satisfied to do
as he was told.
"The deceit of the world, the flesh, and the devil, get the better of
one on every side," said Rachel, when she was left to herself. "Who
would have thought of the noble lord spinning off to the British
Museum on such an errand as that! But he will give papa a good
dinner, and I shan't be any the worse. A man must be very bad before
he can do a woman an injury if she is determined not to be injured."
Lord Castlewell drove the two down to Richmond, and very pleasant
the drive was. The conversation consisted of quizzing Mr. O'Mahony
about his book, as to which he was already beginning to be a little
out of heart. But he bore the quizzing well, and was thoroughly
good-humoured as he saw the lord and his daughter sitting on the
front seat before him. "I am a Landleaguing Home-Ruler, you know, my
lord, of the most advanced description. The Speaker has never turned
me out of the House of Commons, only because I have never sat there.
Your character will be lost for ever." Lord Castlewell declared that
his character would be made for ever, as he had the great prima donna
of the next season at his left hand.
The dinner went off very pleasantly. Old Mrs. Peacock declared that
she had never known a prima donna before to be the daughter of a
Member of Parliament. She felt that great honour was done to the
profession.
"Why," said Lord Castlewell, "he is writing a book to prove that
nobody should pay any rent!"
"Oh!" said Mrs. Peacock, "that would be terrible. A landlord wouldn't
be a landlord if he didn't get any rent;--or hardly." Then Mr.
O'Mahony went to work to explain that a landlord was, of his very
name and nature, an abomination before the Lord.
"And yet you want houses to live in," said Lord Castlewell.
When they were in the middle of their dinners they were all surprised
by the approach of Mr. Mahomet M. Moss. He was dressed up to a degree
of beauty which Rachel thought that she had never seen equalled. His
shirt-front was full of little worked holes. His studs were gold and
turquoise, and those at his wrists were double studs, also gold and
turquoise. The tie of his cravat was a thing marvellous to behold.
His waistcoat was new for the occasion, and apparently all over
marvellously fine needlework. It might, all the same, have been
done by a sewing-machine. The breadth of the satin lappets of his
dress-coat were most expansive. And his hair must have taken two
artists the whole afternoon to accomplish. It was evident to see that
he felt himself to be quite the lord's equal by the strength of his
personal adornment. "Well, yes," he said, "I have brought Madame
Tacchi down here to show her what we can do in the way of a suburban
dinner. Madame Tacchi is about to take the place which Miss O'Mahony
has vacated at 'The Embankment.' Ah, my lord, you behaved very
shabbily to us there."
"If Madame Tacchi," said the lord, "can sing at all like Miss
O'Mahony, we shall have her away very soon. Is Madame Tacchi in
sight, so that I can see her?"
Then Mr. Moss indicated the table at which the lady sat, and with the
lady was Madame Socani.
"They are a bad lot," said Lord Castlewell, as soon as Moss had
withdrawn. "I know them, and they are a bad lot, particularly that
woman who is with them. It is a marvel to me how you got among them."
Lord Castlewell had now become very intimate with the O'Mahonys; and
by what he said showed also his intimacy with Mrs. Peacock.
"They are Americans," said O'Mahony.
"And so are you," said the lord. "There can be good Americans and bad
Americans. You don't mean to say that you think worse of an American
than of an Englishman."
"I think higher of an Englishman than of an American, and lower also.
If I meet an American where a gentleman ought to be, I entertain
a doubt; if I meet him where a labourer ought to be, I feel very
confident. I suppose that the manager of a theatre ought to be a
gentleman."
"I don't quite understand it all," said Mrs. Peacock.
"Nor anybody else," said Rachel. "Father does fly so very high in the
air when he talks about people."
After that the lord drove Miss O'Mahony and her father back to
Cecil Street, and they all agreed that they had had a very pleasant
evening.
END OF VOL. II.
Charles Dickens And Evans, Crystal Palace Press.
* * * * *
THE LANDLEAGUERS
by
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
In Three Volumes--VOL. III.
London
Chatto & Windus, Piccadilly
1883
[All rights reserved]
Charles Dickens and Evans,
Crystal Palace Press.
CONTENTS
Chapter
XXXIII. CAPTAIN CLAYTON'S LOVE-MAKING.
XXXIV. LORD CASTLEWELL'S LOVE-MAKING.
XXXV. MR. O'MAHONY'S APOLOGY.
XXXVI. RACHEL WRITES ABOUT HER LOVERS.
XXXVII. RACHEL IS ILL.
XXXVIII. LORD CASTLEWELL IS MUCH TROUBLED.
XXXIX. CAPTAIN CLAYTON'S FIRST TRIUMPH.
XL. YORKE CLAYTON AGAIN MAKES LOVE.
XLI. THE STATE OF IRELAND.
XLII. LORD CASTLEWELL'S FAREWELL.
XLIII. MR. MOSS IS FINALLY ANSWERED.
XLIV. FRANK JONES COMES BACK AGAIN.
XLV. MR. ROBERT MORRIS.
XLVI. CONG.
XLVII. KERRYCULLION.
XLVIII. THE NEW ARISTOCRACY FAILS.
XLIX.
THE LANDLEAGUERS.