THE FIRST MEETING WITH MR. PARNELL
"_One evening he asked the miller where the river went._"
"_'It goes down the valley,' answered he, 'and turns a power
of mills.'_"--R. L. STEVENSON.
Willie and The O'Gorman Mahon had been returned at the General
Election, and many and varied were the stories The O'Gorman Mahon
told me subsequently of their amusing experiences. How they kissed
nearly every girl in Clare and drank with every man--and poor Willie
loathed Irish whisky--how Willie's innate fastidiousness in dress
brought gloom into the eyes of the peasantry until his unfeigned
admiration of their babies and live stock, scrambing together about
the cabins, "lifted a smile to the lip."
The O'Gorman Mahon was then a tall, handsome old man with a perfect
snowstorm of white hair, and eyes as merry and blue as those of a
boy. He could look as fierce as an old eagle on occasion, however,
and had fought, in his day, more duels than he could remember. A
fine specimen of the old type of Irishman.
When he came down to Eltham to see us, Willie and I took him over to
Greenwich and gave him a fish dinner. We sat late into the night
talking of Irish affairs, and The O'Gorman Mahon said to me, "If you
meet Parnell, Mrs. O'Shea, be good to him. His begging expedition to
America has about finished him, and I don't believe he'll last the
session out."
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He went on to speak of Mr. Parnell; how aloof and reserved he was,
and how he received any inquiries as to his obviously bad health with
a freezing hostility that gave the inquirers a ruffled sense of
tactlessness.
Willie broke in to say that he and I were going to give some
political dinners in London and would ask Parnell, though he was sure
he would not come. The O'Gorman Mahon paid some idle compliment, but
I was not interested particularly in their stories of Parnell, though
I mentally decided that if I gave any dinners to the Irish Party for
Willie I would make a point of getting Parnell.
On the 26th of April the members of the Irish Party met in Dublin to
elect a chairman, and the meeting was adjourned without coming to a
decision, but in May Mr. Parnell was chosen as leader. Willie voted
for him, with twenty-two others, and telegraphed to me to say that he
had done so, but feared that Mr. Parnell might be too "advanced."
The fact was that many people admired steady-going William Shaw, the
then chairman, as being very "safe," and doubted whither their
allegiance to Mr. Parnell would lead them. Years after, when their
politics had diverged, Mr. Parnell said: "I was right when I said in
'80, as Willie got up on that platform at Ennis, dressed to kill,
that he was just the man we did not want in the Party."
After the meeting of Parliament Willie was insistent that I should
give some dinner parties in London, and, as his rooms were too small
for this purpose, we arranged to have a couple of private rooms at
Thomas's Hotel--my old haunt in Berkeley Square. There were no
ladies' clubs in those days, but this hotel served me for many years
as well as such a club could have done.
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We gave several dinners, and to each of them I asked Mr. Parnell.
Among the first to come were Mr. Justin McCarthy (the elder), Colonel
Colthurst, Richard Power, Colonel Nolan, and several others; but--in
spite of his acceptance of the invitation--Mr. Parnell did not come.
Someone alluded to the "vacant chair," and laughingly defied me to
fill it; the rest of our guests took up the tale and vied with each
other in tales of the inaccessibility of Parnell, of how he ignored
even the invitations of the most important political hostesses in
London, and of his dislike of all social intercourse--though he had
mixed freely in society in America and Paris before he became a
politician for the sake of the Irish poor. I then became determined
that I would get Parnell to come, and said, amid laughter and
applause: "The uncrowned King of Ireland shall sit in that chair at
the next dinner I give!"
One bright sunny day when the House was sitting I drove, accompanied
by my sister, Mrs. Steele (who had a house in Buckingham Gate), to
the House of Commons and sent in a card asking Mr. Parnell to come
out and speak to us in Palace Yard.
He came out, a tall, gaunt figure, thin and deadly pale. He looked
straight at me smiling, and his curiously burning eyes looked into
mine with a wondering intentness that threw into my brain the sudden
thought: "This man is wonderful--and different."
I asked him why he had not answered my last invitation to dinner, and
if nothing would induce him to come. He answered that he had not
opened his letters for days, but if I would let him, he would come to
dinner directly he returned from Paris, where he had to go for his
sister's wedding.
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In leaning forward in the cab to say good-bye a rose I was wearing in
my bodice fell out on to my skirt. He picked it up and, touching it
lightly with his lips, placed it in his button-hole.
This rose I found long years afterwards done up in an envelope, with
my name and the date, among his most private papers, and when he died
I laid it upon his heart.
This is the first letter I had from Mr. Parnell:--
LONDON,
_July_ 17, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--We have all been in such a "disturbed"
condition lately that I have been quite unable to wander further
from here than a radius of about one hundred _paces allons_. And
this notwithstanding the powerful attractions which have been
tending to seduce me from my duty towards my country in the
direction of Thomas's Hotel.
I am going over to Paris on Monday evening or Tuesday morning to
attend my sister's wedding, and on my return will write you again
and ask for an opportunity of seeing you.--Yours very truly,
CHAS. S. PARNELL.
On his return from Paris Mr. Parnell wrote to me, and again we asked
him to dinner, letting him name his own date. We thought he would
like a quiet dinner, and invited only my sister, Mrs. Steele, my
nephew, Sir Matthew Wood, Mr. Justin McCarthy, and a couple of others
whose names I forget. On receiving his reply accepting the
invitation for the following Friday, we engaged a box at the Gaiety
Theatre--where Marion Hood was acting (for whom I had a great
admiration)--as we thought it would be a relief to the "Leader" to
get away from politics for once.
On the day of the dinner I got this note:--
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HOUSE OF COMMONS,
_Friday._
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I dined with the Blakes on Wednesday, and
by the time dinner was over it was too late to go to the
meeting--the Post Office is all right here.
I cannot imagine who originated the paragraph. I have certainly
made no arrangements up to the present to go either to Ireland or
America or announced any intention to anybody.--Yours, CHAS. S.
PARNELL.
He arrived late, but apologetic, and was looking painfully ill and
white, the only life-light in his face being given by the fathomless
eyes of rich brown, varying to the brilliance of flame. The depth of
expression and sudden fire of his eyes held me to the day of his
death.
We had a pleasant dinner, talking of small nothings, and, avoiding
the controversial subject of politics, Mr. Parnell directed most of
his conversation to my sister during dinner. She could talk
brilliantly, and her quick, light handling of each subject as it came
up kept him interested and amused. I was really anxious that he
should have an agreeable evening, and my relief was great when he
said that he was glad to go to the theatre with us, as the change of
thought it gave was a good rest for him.
On arrival at the theatre he and I seemed to fall naturally into our
places in the dark corner of the box facing the stage and screened
from the sight of the audience, while my sister and the others sat in
front.
After we had settled in our seats Mr. Parnell began to talk to me. I
had a feeling of complete sympathy and companionship with him, as
though I had always known this strange, unusual man with the thin
face and pinched nostrils, who sat by my side staring with that
curious {61} intent gaze at the stage, and telling me in a low
monotone of his American tour and of his broken health.
Then, turning more to me, he paused; and, as the light from the stage
caught his eyes, they seemed like sudden flames. I leaned a little
towards him, still with that odd feeling of his having always been
there by my side; and his eyes smiled into mine as he broke off his
theme and began to tell me of how he had met once more in America a
lady to whom he had been practically engaged some few years before.
Her father would not dower her to go to Ireland, and Parnell would
not think of giving up the Irish cause and settling in America. The
engagement therefore hung fire; but on this last visit to America he
had sought her out and found himself cold and disillusioned.
She was a very pretty girl, he said, with golden hair, small features
and blue eyes. One evening, on this last visit, he went to a ball
with her, and, as she was going up the stairs, she pressed into his
hand a paper on which was written the following verse:
"Unless you can muse in a crowd all day
On the absent face that fixed you,
Unless you can dream that his faith is fast
Through behoving and unbehoving,
Unless you can die when the dream is past,
Oh, never call it loving."
He asked me who had written the lines, and I answered that it sounded
like one of the Brownings (it is E. B. Browning's), and he said
simply: "Well, I could not do all that, so I went home."
I suggested that perhaps the lady had suffered in his desertion, but
he said that he had seen her, that same evening, suddenly much
attracted by a young advocate {62} named A----, who had just entered
the room, and decided in his own mind that his vacillation had lost
him the young lady. The strenuous work he had then put his whole
heart into had driven out all traces of regret.
After this dinner-party I met him frequently in the Ladies' Gallery
of the House. I did not tell him when I was going; but, whenever I
went, he came up for a few minutes; and, if the Wednesday sittings
were not very important or required his presence, he would ask me to
drive with him. We drove many miles this way in a hansom cab out
into the country, to the river at Mortlake, or elsewhere. We chiefly
discussed Willie's chances of being returned again for Clare, in case
another election was sprung upon us. Both Willie and I were very
anxious to secure Mr. Parnell's promise about this, as The O'Gorman
Mahon was old, and we were desirous of making Willie's seat in
Parliament secure.
While he sat by my side in the meadows by the river he promised he
would do his best to keep Willie in Parliament, and to secure County
Clare for him should the occasion arise. Thus we would sit there
through the summer afternoon, watching the gay traffic on the river,
in talk, or in the silence of tried friendship, till the growing
shadows warned us that it was time to drive back to London.
Soon after my first meeting with Mr. Parnell, my sister, Mrs. Steele,
invited Mr. Parnell, Mr. McCarthy and myself to luncheon. We had a
very pleasant little party at her house. During lunch Mr. Parnell
told us he was going to his place in Ireland for some shooting, and
Mr. McCarthy and my sister chaffed him for leaving us for the lesser
game of partridge shooting, but he observed {63} gravely, "I have the
partridges there, and here I cannot always have your society."
I had to leave early, as I was anxious to return to see my aunt; and
Mr. Parnell said he would accompany me to the station. When we got
to Charing Cross the train had already gone; and Mr. Parnell picked
out a good horse from the cab rank, saying it would be much
pleasanter to drive down on such a beautiful afternoon. We did so,
but I would not let him stay, as I was not sure what state of
confusion the house might be in, left in my absence in the possession
of the children and governess. I told him I had to hurry over the
park to my aunt, as really was the case, and he reluctantly returned
to London.
On the next Wednesday evening Mr. Parnell was to dine with me at
Thomas's Hotel. He met me at Cannon Street Station as the train came
in, and asked me to have some tea with him at the hotel there and go
on to Thomas's together. We went to the Cannon Street Hotel
dining-rooms, but on looking in he saw some of the Irish members
there and said it would be more comfortable for us in his private
sitting-room. I was under the impression that he lived at Keppel
Street, but he told me he had just taken rooms in the Cannon Street
Hotel. We had tea in his sitting-room, and he talked politics to me
freely till I was interested and at ease, and then lapsed into one of
those long silences of his that I was already beginning to know were
dangerous in the complete sympathy they evoked between us.
Presently I said, "Come! we shall be late!"; and he rose without a
word and followed me downstairs. There were some members of his
Party still standing about in the hall, but, as he always did
afterwards when I was {64} with him, he ignored them absolutely and
handed me into a waiting cab.
He and I dined at Thomas's Hotel that evening, and after dinner I
returned home to Eltham. Mr. Parnell left for Ireland by the morning
mail.
From Dublin he wrote to me:--
_September_ 9, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--Just a line to say that I have arrived
here, and go on to Avondale, Rathdrum, this evening, where I hope
to hear from you before very long.
I may tell you also in confidence that I don't feel quite so
content at the prospect of ten days' absence from London amongst
the hills and valleys of Wicklow as I should have done some three
months since.
The cause is mysterious, but perhaps you will help me to find it,
or her, on my return.--Yours always, CHAS. S. PARNELL.
Then from his home:--
AVONDALE, RATHDRUM,
_September_ 11, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I take the opportunity which a few hours in
Dublin gives me of letting you know that I am still in the land
of the living, notwithstanding the real difficulty of either
living or being, which every moment becomes more evident, in the
absence of a certain kind and fair face.
Probably you will not hear from me again for a few days, as I am
going into the mountains for some shooting, removed from post
offices and such like consolations for broken-hearted
politicians, but if, as I hope, a letter from you should reach me
even there, I shall try and send you an answer.--Yours very
sincerely, CHAS. S. PARNELL.
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