AT ELTHAM
"_But then--I supposed you to be but a fellow guest?_"
"_Ah, no" he answered, he in that cold, unshaken voice, "I
have but come home._"--(THE BAGMAN) HONORA SHEE.
Whenever I went to town, or elsewhere, I always returned at night to
see that my children were all right and to be ready to go to my aunt
as usual every morning. One day, on my return from a drive with my
aunt, I found that my old nurse Lucy, who still lived with me, was
very ill, having had a stroke of paralysis while I was away. She
lingered only a couple of days before she died and left a great void
in my heart. My children missed their admiring old confidante sadly.
She had always been devoted to me as the youngest of her "own
babies," as she called my mother's children, and had shared in all my
fortunes and misfortunes since I returned from Spain. She was always
very proud, and so fearful of becoming a burden to anyone, that she
rented a room in her sister's house so that she should feel
independent. So often, when "times were bad" with us, she would
press some of her savings into my hand and say that "The Captain must
want a little change, Dearie, going about as he does!"
In her earlier life she had had her romance, and had spent some years
in saving up to marry her "sweetheart," as she called him; but
shortly before the wedding her father's business failed, and she
immediately gave him {66} all her little nest-egg, with the result
that her lover refused to marry her. So then, at the great age of
ninety, after her blameless life had been passed since the age of
sixteen in unselfish devotion to us all, we laid her to rest by the
side of my father and mother at Cressing, Willie taking her down to
Essex and attending the funeral.
As she lay dying I got this note from Mr. Parnell:--
DUBLIN,
_September_ 22, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I cannot keep myself away from you any
longer, so shall leave to-night for London.
Please wire me to 16, Keppel Street, Russell Square, if I may
hope to see you to-morrow and where, after 4 p.m.--Yours always,
C. S. P.
Owing to the piteous clinging to my fingers of my old Lucy I was
unable to go to London even for an hour to meet Mr. Parnell, so I
telegraphed to that effect, and received the following letter:--
EUSTON STATION,
_Friday evening, September_ 24, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--On arriving at Keppel Street yesterday I
found that your wire had just arrived, and that the boy refused
to leave it as I was not stopping there. Going at once to the
district postal office I asked for and received the wire, and
to-day went to London Bridge Station at 12.15.
The train from Eltham had just left, so I came on to Charing
Cross and sent a note by messenger to you at Thomas's, with
directions to bring it back if you were not there, which turned
out to be the case. I am very much troubled at not having seen
you, especially as I must return to Ireland to-night--I came on
purpose for you, and had no other business. I think it possible,
on reflection, that the telegraph people may have wired you that
they were unable to deliver your message, and, if so, must
reproach myself for not having written you last night.--Your very
disappointed C. S. P.
{67}
From Dublin he wrote me:
_Saturday morning, September_ 25, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--In my hurried note to you last night I had
not time to sympathize with you in this troublesome time you have
been going through recently; how I wish it might have been
possible for me to have seen you even for a few minutes to tell
you how very much I feel any trouble which comes to you.
I am just starting for New Ross, where there is a meeting
to-morrow.
If you can spare time to write me to Avondale, the letters will
reach me in due course.--Yours always, C. S. P.
_September_ 29, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I have received your wire, but not the
letter which you say you were writing me to Dublin for Monday.
I suppose then you may have sent it to Rathdrum instead, whither
I am going this evening, and that I may soon have the happiness
of reading a few words written by you.
I am due at Cork on Sunday, after which I propose to visit London
again, and renew my attempt to gain a glimpse of you. Shall
probably arrive there on Tuesday if I hear from you in the
meanwhile that you will see me.
On Friday evening I shall be at Morrison's on my way to Kilkenny
for Saturday, and shall be intensely delighted to have a wire
from you to meet me there.--Yours always, CHAS. S. PARNELL.
Meanwhile Willie was in communication with Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Tintern
(one of the Liberal agents) and others, in reference to a meeting
held by him.
Mr. Tintern wrote from Tenby commenting with satisfaction on the
report of Willie's successful meeting, on Willie's kind mention of
the Government, and on the good the meeting must do by promoting
orderly progress and better feeling between one class and another.
But he {68} expressed surprise that Willie should think the
Government had not treated him and West Clare well. He at least...!
Mr. Gladstone wrote from Downing Street on the 21st September about
the meeting in much the same terms. He expressed himself as
gratified to think that the important local proceedings with regard
to the land question showed the union of people and pastors against
the extremists.
Life at Eltham went on in the same routine. My aunt was well, and
would sit for long hours at the south door of her house--looking away
up "King John's Chase"--the ruins of King John's Palace were at
Eltham, and my aunt's park and grounds were part of the ancient Royal
demesne. In these summer evenings she loved to sit at the top of the
broad flight of shallow steps with me, and tell my little girls
stories of her life of long ago.
Sometimes her favourite Dr. Bader would bring his zither down from
London and play to us; or my aunt and I would sit in the great
tapestry room with all of the seven windows open, listening to the
song of the æolian harp as the soft breeze touched its strings and
died away in harmony through the evening stillness.
Sometimes, too, she would sing in her soft, gentle old voice the
songs of her youth, to the accompaniment of her guitar. "We met,
'twas in a crowd," was a favourite old song of hers, half forgotten
since she used to sing it to the music of her spinet seventy years
before, but Dr. Bader found the words in an old book, and the dear
old lady crooned it sentimentally to me as we sat waiting for the
hooting of the owls which signalled to her maid the time for shutting
her lady's windows.
And I was conscious of sudden gusts of unrest and revolt against
these leisured, peaceful days where the {69} chiming of the great
clock in the hall was the only indication of the flight of time, and
the outside world of another age called to me with the manifold
interests into which I had been so suddenly plunged with the power to
help in the making and marring of a destiny.
In the autumn of 1880 Mr. Parnell came to stay with us at Eltham,
only going to Dublin as occasion required. Willie had invited him to
come, and I got in some flowers in pots and palms to make my
drawing-room look pretty for him.
Mr. Parnell, who was in very bad health at that time, a few days
later complained of sore throat, and looked, as I thought, mournfully
at my indoor garden, which I industriously watered every day. It
then dawned upon me that he was accusing this of giving him sore
throat, and I taxed him with it. He evidently feared to vex me, but
admitted that he did think it was so, and "wouldn't it do if they
were not watered so often?" He was childishly touched when I at once
had them all removed, and he sank happily on to the sofa, saying that
"plants were such damp things!"
His throat became no better, and he looked so terribly ill when--as
he often did now--he fell asleep from sheer weakness on the sofa
before the fire, that I became very uneasy about him. Once, on
awaking from one of these sleeps of exhaustion, he told me abruptly
that he believed it was the green in the carpet that gave him sore
throat. There and then we cut a bit out, and sent it to London to be
analysed, but without result. It was quite a harmless carpet.
During this time I nursed him assiduously, making him take
nourishment at regular intervals, seeing that these day-sleeps of his
were not disturbed, and forcing {70} him to take fresh air in long
drives through the country around us. At length I had the
satisfaction of seeing his strength gradually return sufficiently to
enable him to take the exercise that finished the process of this
building-up, and he became stronger than he had been for some years.
I do not think anyone but we who saw him then at Eltham, without the
mask of reserve he always presented to the outside world, had any
idea of how near death's door his exertions on behalf of the
famine-stricken peasants of Ireland had brought him.
Once in that autumn, after he came to us, I took him for a long drive
in an open carriage through the hop-growing district of Kent. I had
not thought of the fact that hundreds of the poorest of the Irish
came over for the hop-picking, and might recognize him.
After driving over Chislehurst Common and round by the lovely Grays,
we came right into a crowd of the Irish "hoppers"--men, women, and
children. In a moment there was a wild surge towards the carriage,
with cries of "The Chief! The Chief!" and "Parnell! Parnell!
Parnell!" The coachman jerked the horses on to their haunches for
fear of knocking down the enthusiastic men and women who were
crowding up--trying to kiss Parnell's hand, and calling for "a few
words."
He lifted his cap with that grave, aloof smile of his, and said no,
he was not well enough to make the smallest of speeches, but he was
glad to see them, and would talk to them when they went home to
Ireland. Then, bidding them to "mind the little ones," who were
scrambling about the horses' legs, to the manifest anxiety of the
coachman, he waved them away, and we drove off amid fervent "God keep
your honours!" and cheers.
These Irish hop-pickers were so inured to privation {71} in their own
country that they were very popular among the Kentish hop-farmers, as
they did not grumble so much as did the English pickers at the
scandalously inefficient accommodation provided for them.
Often before Parnell became really strong I used to watch for hours
beside him as he slept before the drawing-room fire, till I had to
rouse him in time to go to the House. Once, when he was moving
restlessly, I heard him murmur in his sleep, as I pulled the light
rug better over him: "Steer carefully out of the harbour--there are
breakers ahead."
He now had all the parcels and letters he received sent on to me, so
that I might open them and give him only those it was necessary for
him to deal with. There were hundreds of letters to go through every
week, though, as he calmly explained, "If you get tired with them,
leave them and they'll answer themselves."
Often among the parcels there were comestibles, and among these every
week came a box of eggs without the name and address of the sender.
I was glad to see these eggs as the winter came on and with it the
usual reluctance of our hens to provide us with sufficient eggs, but
Mr. Parnell would not allow me to use them, for he said: "They might
be eggs, but then again they might not," and I had to send them a
good distance down the garden and have them broken to make sure of
their genuineness, and then he would worry lest our dogs should find
them and poison themselves.
On his visits to Ireland he wrote to me continually:--
DUBLIN,
_Tuesday._
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I have just a moment on my return from
Ennis to catch the late post and reply to your wire.
{72}
I received your two letters quite safely, and you may write me
even nicer ones with perfect confidence. I blame myself very
much for not having written you on my way through Dublin on
Saturday, as you were evidently anxious about your notes, but I
hope you will forgive me as there were only a few minutes to
spare.
I trust to see you in London on Tuesday next. Is it true that
Captain O'Shea is in Paris, and, if so, when do you expect his
return? ... I have had no shooting, weather too wet, but shall
try to-morrow, when you may expect some heather.
DUBLIN,
_Friday evening, October_ 2, 1880.
Have just received your wire; somehow or other something from you
seems a necessary part of my daily existence, and if I have to go
a day or two without even a telegram it seems dreadful.
I want to know how you intend to excuse yourself for telling me
not to come on purpose if I must return. (To Ireland.) Of
course, I am going on purpose to see you; and it is also
unhappily true that I cannot remain long.
Shall cross Monday evening, and shall call at Morrison's for a
message.
Please write or wire me in London to 16 Keppel Street, Russell
Square, where I shall call on Tuesday.
DUBLIN,
_Monday night, October_ 4, 1880.
Just arrived.... I write you on the only bit of paper to be
found at this late hour (a scrap taken from one of your own
notes), to say that I hope to reach London to-morrow (Tuesday)
evening and to see you on Wednesday when and where you wish.
Please write or wire me to Keppel Street. This envelope will
present the appearance of having been tampered with, but it has
not.
DUBLIN,
_Tuesday evening, October_ 5, 1880.
A frightful gale has been blowing all day in Channel and still
continues.
{73}
Under these circumstances shall postpone crossing till to-morrow
evening.
Can meet you in London at 9 to-morrow evening anywhere you say.
DUBLIN,
_Monday evening, October_ 17, 1880.
MY OWN LOVE,--You cannot imagine how much you have occupied my
thoughts all day and how very greatly the prospect of seeing you
again very soon comforts me.
On Monday evening I think it will be necessary for me to go to
Avondale; afterwards I trust, if things are propitious on your
side, to return to London on Tuesday or Wednesday.--Yours always,
C.
AVONDALE, RATHDRUM,
_October_ 22, 1880.
I was very much pleased to receive your wire this morning,
forwarded from Dublin, that you had received my note of last
Saturday. I was beginning to fear that it had gone wrong.
After I had finished at Roscommon and received your message in
Dublin on Monday I decided upon coming here where I have been
unexpectedly detained.
If all goes well you will see me in London on Monday evening
next.... I send you enclosed one or two poor sprigs of heather,
which I plucked for you three weeks ago, also my best love, and
hope you will believe that I always think of you as the one dear
object whose presence has ever been a great happiness to me.
Meanwhile the Government had been temporizing with the land question.
They had brought in a very feeble Compensation for Disturbances Bill
and they had allowed it to be further weakened by amendments. This
Bill was rejected by the House of Lords, with the result that the
number of evictions in Ireland grew hourly greater and the agitation
of the Land League against them; outrages, too, were of common
occurrence and increased in intensity.
{74}
Speaking at Ennis on September 19th Mr. Parnell enunciated the
principle which has since gone by the name of "The Boycott."
"What are you to do," he asked, "to a tenant who bids for a farm from
which another tenant has been evicted?"
Several voices cried: "Shoot him!"
"I think," went on Mr. Parnell, "I heard somebody say 'Shoot him!' I
wish to point out to you a very much better way--a more Christian and
charitable way, which will give the lost man an opportunity of
repenting. When a man takes a farm from which another has been
unjustly evicted, you must shun him on the roadside when you meet
him; you must shun him in the shop; you must shun him on the
fair-green and in the market-place, and even in the place of worship,
by leaving him alone; by putting him into a sort of moral Coventry;
by isolating him from the rest of the country, as if he were a leper
of old--you must show him your detestation of the crime he has
committed."
Forster, the Irish Secretary, who had some amount of sympathy for the
tenants, was, however, a Quaker, and the outrages horrified him more
than the evictions. Nor, strangely, was he able to connect the one
with the other. Undoubtedly the evictions almost ceased, but, said
he, they have ceased because of the outrages, and the outrages were
the work of the Land League; and he pressed for the arrest of its
leaders. This was unwise, considering that it was Parnell who had
advocated the abandonment of violence for the moral suasion of the
boycott.
On November 3rd Forster decided to prosecute the leaders of the Land
League, and among them Parnell, Dillon, Biggar, Sexton and T. D.
Sullivan. Two days {75} later, in a speech at Dublin, Parnell
expressed his regret that Forster was degenerating from a statesman
to a tool of the landlords. Biggar when he heard the news exclaimed,
"Damned lawyers, sir, damned lawyers! Wasting the public money!
Wasting the public money! Whigs damned rogues! Forster damned fool!"
DUBLIN,[1]
_November_ 4, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I take advantage of almost the first moment
I have had to myself since leaving you to write a few hasty
lines. And first I must again thank you for all your kindness,
which made my stay at Eltham so happy and pleasant.
The thunderbolt, as you will have seen, has at last fallen, and
we are in the midst of loyal preparations of a most appalling
character.
I do not suppose I shall have an opportunity of being in London
again before next Thursday, but trust to be more fortunate in
seeing Captain O'Shea then than the last time.--Yours very truly,
CHAS. S. PARNELL.
DUBLIN,[1]
_Saturday._
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I hope to arrive in London on Tuesday
morning, and trust to have the pleasure of seeing you before I
leave. Do you think you shall be in town on Tuesday?
Kindly address 16, Keppel Street.--Yours very truly, CHAS. S.
PARNELL.
On November 5th that year the village was great on the subject of
"gunpowder, treason, and plot," and during dinner that evening there
was such a noise and shouting outside my house that I asked the maid
who was waiting what all the excitement was about.
She answered breathlessly that "the procession, ma'am, {76} have got
Miss Anna Parnell in a effigy 'longside of the Pope, and was waiting
outside for us to see before they burnt 'em in the village."
This electrifying intelligence was received with grave indifference
by Mr. Parnell till the disappointed maid left the room; then with a
sudden bubble of laughter--"Poor Anna! Her pride in being burnt, as
a menace to England, would be so drowned in horror at her company
that it would put the fire out!"
The cheering and hooting went on for some time outside the house,
but, finding we were not to be drawn, the crowd at last escorted the
effigies down to the village and burnt them, though with less
amusement than they had anticipated.
DUBLIN,[2]
_November_ 6, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--You can have very little idea how
dreadfully disappointed I felt on arriving here this evening not
to find a letter from either you or Captain O'Shea. I send this
in hope that it may induce you to write in reply to my last
letter and telegram, which would appear not to have reached
you.--Yours very sincerely, CHAS. S. PARNELL.
AVONDALE,
_Monday._
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I enclose keys, which I took away by
mistake. Will you kindly hand enclosed letter to the proper
person[3] and oblige,--Yours very truly, CHAS. S. PARNELL.
DUBLIN,
_Wednesday night, November_ 11, 1880.
MY DEAREST LOVE,--I have made all arrangements to be in London on
Saturday morning, and shall call at Keppel Street for a letter
from you. It is quite impossible for me to {77} tell you just
how very much you have changed my life, what a small interest I
take in what is going on about me, and how I detest everything
which has happened during the last few days to keep me away from
you--I think of you always, and you must never believe there is
to be any "fading." By the way, you must not send me any more
artificial letters. I want as much of your own self as you can
transfer into written words, or else none at all.--Your always,
C. S. P.
A telegram goes to you, and one to W.,[4] to-morrow, which are by
no means strictly accurate.
DUBLIN,
_December_ 2, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I succeeded in getting the train at Euston
with just ten minutes to spare, and, arriving here this morning,
found that my presence to-day was indispensable.
I need not tell you how much I regretted leaving Eltham so
suddenly; but we cannot always do as we wish in this world.
My stay with you has been so pleasant and charming that I was
almost beginning to forget my other duties; but Ireland seems to
have gotten on very well without me in the interval.
Trusting to see you again next week on my way to Paris.--Yours
very sincerely, CHAS. S. PARNELL.
I have been exceedingly anxious all day at not receiving your
promised telegram to hear how you got home.
[1] These letters were really written from London.
[2] Sent to Dublin to be posted.
[3] Myself.
[4] Captain O'Shea.
{78}