THE LAND LEAGUE TRIALS
"_The surest way to prevent seditions is to take away the matter of
them._"--LORD BACON.
Through the whole of 1880 Parnell was determinedly organizing the
Land League throughout Ireland, and during the winter, doubtless
encouraged by the enormous distress that prevailed over the whole
country, the force and power of the League grew with a rapidity that
surpassed even the expectations of Parnell and his party. All
through the vacation Parnell and his followers held meetings in
carefully calculated areas of Ireland, and in his speeches Parnell
explained the meaning and wide-reaching scope of the League's
agitation, i.e. that tenant farmers were to trust in their own
combination alone and "should give no faith to the promises of the
English Ministers."
During the early session that year Parnell had introduced a Bill
called "Suspension of Ejectments Bill," and this first pressed upon
the House the necessity of dealing with the Irish landlord troubles.
Parnell's party urged this Bill with so united a front that Mr.
Gladstone was obliged to consider the main substance of it, and he
agreed to insert a clause in the "Relief of Distress Bill" which
would deal with impending evictions of Irish tenants. But the
Speaker of the House held that the interpolation of such a clause
would not be "in order," and the Chief Secretary for Ireland (Mr.
Forster) then, by Mr. Gladstone's direction, brought in his
"Disturbances Bill," {79} which was to all practical purposes
Parnell's Bill under another name.
In the course of the debate on this Bill Mr. Gladstone himself said
that "in the circumstances of distress prevalent in Ireland (at that
time) a sentence of eviction is the equivalent of a sentence of
death." These absolutely true words of Gladstone's were used by
Parnell very many times during his Land League tours both in speeches
and privately, and many times he added--as so often he did to me at
home--bitter comment upon the apathy of the English Government, upon
the curious insensibility of the English law-makers, who knew these
things to be true in Ireland and yet were content to go on in their
policy of drift, unless forced into action by those who saw the
appalling reality of the distress among the Irish poor that was so
comfortably deplored in London.
In this connexion Parnell used to say that the fundamental failure in
the English government of Ireland was: First, the complete inability
of the Ministers in power to realize anything that was not before
their eyes; and, secondly, their cast-iron conviction that Ireland
was the one country of the world that was to be understood and
governed by those to whom she was little but a name.
In all this time of trouble and eviction Parnell went backwards and
forwards between England (Eltham) and Ireland as occasion required,
and so successful were his efforts in spreading the agitation and
linking up the League that the Government became uneasy as to the
outcome of this new menace to landlordism. Finally Parnell and
fourteen of his followers were put on trial, charged with "conspiracy
to impoverish landlords." Parnell, of course, went over to Ireland
for these "State trials," but he considered the whole thing such a
farce, in that it was {80} an impotent effort of the Government to
intimidate him, that he could not take it seriously in any way. No
jury (in Ireland) would agree to convict him he was well aware, and
he attended the trials chiefly, he said, for the "look of the thing,"
and to give the support of his presence to his colleagues.
Incidentally he told me on one occasion that he had considerably
hurried the jury when he was very anxious to catch a train in time
for the night mail to England (Eltham) by "willing" them to agree (to
disagree) without the long discussion of local politics with which
all self-respecting Irish jurors beguile the weary ways of law. He
observed that here, in the question of how far an unconscious agent
can be "willed" into a desired action, he had discovered another and
most entrancing study for us when we had more time to go into it
thoroughly.
Talking of the Land League's procedure against the interests of the
Irish landlords, I may, I think, here pertinently remind those who
have, among so many other accusations, brought against Parnell the
charge of self-seeking in regard to money matters, that Parnell
himself was an Irish landlord and of very considerable estates, and
that this land campaign (really, of course, directed against
eviction), meant, to all practical purposes, the loss of his rents,
and that not only for a time, as in other cases, but, with the very
generous interpretation put upon his wishes by the "Chief's" tenants,
for all time--or rather for all his lifetime. Captain O'Shea also
had certain estates in Ireland, and naturally, not being in sympathy
with Parnell's policy, but being at heart a thorough Whig and a
strong advocate for Mr. Shaw, the ex-leader of the Irish party, he
was furious at the League's anti-landlord work, and refused to have
any hand in it. He considered {81} that hapless as was the plight of
those who had to pay in rent the money they did not possess, that of
the landlord whose rent was his all was but little to be preferred.
During this period the stories of the evictions brought home to me by
Parnell himself made my heart sick, and often he sat far into the
night at Eltham speaking in that low, broken monotone, that with him
always betokened intense feeling strongly held in check, of the
terrible cruelty of some of the things done in the name of justice in
unhappy Ireland. How old people, and sometimes those sick beyond
recovery, women with the children they had borne but a few hours
before, little children naked as they had come into the world, all
thrust out from the little squalid cabins which were all they had for
home, thrust out on the roadside to perish, or to live as they could.
I in my English ignorance used to say: "Why did they not go into the
workhouse or to neighbours?" and Parnell would look wonderingly at me
as he told me that for the most part such places were few and far
between in Ireland, and "neighbours," good as they were to each
other, were in the same trouble. There were instances where a wife
would beg, and with none effect, that the bailiffs and police should
wait but the little half-hour that her dying husband drew his last
breath; and where a husband carried his wife from her bed to the
"shelter" of the rainswept moor that their child might be born out of
the sight of the soldiers deputed to guard the officials who had been
sent to pull their home about their ears. And, remembering these and
so many other tales of some of the 50,000 evictions that he
afterwards calculated had taken place in Ireland, I have never
wondered at the implacable hatred of England that can never really
die out of the Irish heart.
{82}
On December 4th, 1880, he wrote to me from Dublin:
I was exceedingly pleased to receive your letters; to say the
truth, I have been quite homesick since leaving Eltham, and news
from you seems like news from home.
The Court refused our application to-day for a postponement of
the trial (of the Land League), but this we expected, and it does
not much signify, as it turns out that we need not necessarily
attend the trial unless absolutely directed to do so by the Court.
You will also be pleased to hear that the special jury panel, of
which we obtained a copy last night, is of such a character as in
the opinion of competent judges to give us every chance of a
disagreement by the jury in their verdict, but we cannot, of
course, form an absolute conclusion until the jury has been
sworn, when we shall be able to tell pretty certainly one way or
the other.
Since writing Captain O'Shea it does not look as if I could get
further away from Ireland than London, as Paris is inconvenient
from its distance.
I have no letter from him yet in reply to mine.
And again on the 9th:--
I returned from Waterford last night, and shall probably get
through all necessary work here by Saturday evening so as to
enable me to start for London on Sunday morning. I do not know
how long I can remain in London, but shall run down and see you
on Monday, and perhaps my plans will be more fixed by that time.
I have decided not to attend any more meetings until after the
opening of Parliament, as everything now can go on without me.
Kindly inform Captain O'Shea that the meeting of Irish members
will be in Dublin on the 4th January.
On December 12th of that year Mr. Parnell wrote from Avondale to say
that the jury panel was to be struck on the following Monday for the
prosecution of the Land League.
{83}
... And it will be necessary for me to see it before giving final
directions.
I have consequently postponed my departure till Monday evening.
I have come here to arrange my papers and find a number which I
should not like to destroy, and which I should not like the
Government to get hold of in the event of their searching my
house in the troublous times which appear before us. May I leave
them at Eltham?
And the next day:--
I have just received a note from Healy, who is to be tried at
Cork on Thursday, saying that his counsel thinks it of the utmost
importance I should be present.
This is very hard lines on me, as I had looked forward to a
little rest in London before my own trial commences; but I do not
see how it can be helped, as Healy's is the first of the State
trials, and it is of the utmost importance to secure an acquittal
and not merely a disagreement. I shall leave Cork on Thursday
night and arrive in London Friday evening, and shall call to see
you at Eltham Saturday. Your letters, one directed here and the
others to Morrison's, reached me in due course, and I hope to
hear from you again very soon.
Parnell, now, always made my house his headquarters in England, and
on his return from Ireland after the trials came down at once as soon
as he had ascertained that I was alone.
There were times when he wished to keep quiet and let no one know
where he was; and, as it became known to the Government that Mr.
Parnell frequented my house a good deal, it was somewhat difficult to
avoid the detectives who were employed to watch his comings and
goings.
On one occasion in 1880 he was informed privately that his arrest for
"sedition" was being urged upon the Government, and that it would be
well to go abroad for a short time. I think his enigmatic reply, "I
will {84} disappear for a few weeks," must have puzzled his
informant. He came down to me at night, and when I answered his
signal at my sitting-room window, and let him in, he told me with a
deprecating smile that I must hide him for a few weeks. As I sat
watching him eat the supper I always had ready for him at 3 a.m. I
felt rather hopeless, as he was a big man, and I did not see how he
could be hidden from the servants. He said the latter must not know
he was there, as they would talk to the tradespeople, and they to the
Government men. He did not wish to be arrested until later on, when
it might be more useful than not.
Then he awaited suggestions, and at length we decided that a little
room opening out of my own must be utilized for him, as I always kept
it locked and never allowed a servant into it--except very
occasionally to "turn it out." It was a little boudoir
dressing-room, and had a sofa in it.
Mr. Parnell was then still feeling ill and run down, and enjoyed his
fortnight's absolute rest in this room. None of the servants knew
that he was there, and I took all his food up at night, cooking
little dainty dishes for him at the open fire, much to his pleasure
and amusement. He spent the time very happily, resting, writing
"seditious" speeches for future use, and reading "Alice in
Wonderland." This book was a favourite of his, and I gave it to him
with the solemnity that befitted his grave reading of it. I do not
think he ever thought it in the least amusing, but he would read it
earnestly from cover to cover, and, without a smile, remark that it
was a "curious book."
In all this fortnight no one had the least idea that he was in the
house, and the only comment I ever heard upon {85} my prisoner's diet
was that "the mistress ate much more when she had her meals served in
her sitting-room."
At the end of this fortnight he had arranged to go to Paris on some
Land League business, and wanted me to go to see him off. He had
brought certain political correspondence from Avondale and London and
placed it in my charge, and this I kept in a box in this little
private room, where I hid them. But there were two papers that he
did not wish left even here, and, fearing arrest, could not carry on
him. For these he had a wide, hollow gold bracelet made in Paris,
and after inserting the papers he screwed the bracelet safely on my
arm; there it remained for three years, and was then unscrewed by him
and the contents destroyed.
The winter of 1880 was terribly cold, and as I let him out of the
house in the bitterly cold morning I wished he did not consider it
necessary to go to Paris by such a roundabout route as he had chosen.
However, we drove off to Lewisham that morning, quite unobserved;
from thence we went by train to New Cross, and drove by cab to London
Bridge. At Vauxhall we started for Lowestoft; for Mr. Parnell had
arranged to go to Paris via Harwich. I was anxious about him, for
the cold was intense, and the deep snow over the large dreary waste
of salt marshes seemed reflected in his pallor. Our train slowly
passed through the dreary tract of country, feet deep in its white
covering, and we could see no sign of life but an occasional seagull
vainly seeking for food, and sending a weird call through the lonely
silences.
I wrapped Parnell up in his rugs as he tried to sleep. I loathed the
great white expanse that made him look so ill, and I wished I had him
at home again, where I could {86} better fight the great fear that so
often beset my heart: that I could not long keep off the death that
hovered near him. A lady and gentleman in the carriage remarked to
me--thinking he slept--that my husband looked terribly ill, could
they do anything? And I noticed the little smile of content that
flitted over his face as he heard me briskly reply that, No, he had
been ill, but was so much better and stronger that I was not at all
uneasy. It was the cold glare of the snow that made him look so
delicate, but he was really quite strong. He hated to be thought
ill, and did not see the doubt in their faces at my reply.
Arrived at Lowestoft I insisted upon his resting and having a good
meal, after which he felt so cheered up that he decided to return to
London with me, and go to Paris by the usual route the next day!
We had a new Irish cook at this time, from County Tipperary, and her
joy exceeded all bounds when she learnt that the Irish leader was
really in the house and she was to cook for him. I had to ask Mr.
Parnell to see her for a moment, as she was too excited to settle to
her cooking. Directly she got into the room Ellen fell down on her
knees and kissed his hands, much to his horror, for, although used to
such homage in Ireland, he disliked it extremely, and he told me with
some reproach that he had expected to be quite free from that sort of
thing in my house.
At Christmas he tipped my servants generously, and indeed Ellen and
the parlourmaid Mary vied with each other in their attention to his
comfort. The enthusiasm of the cook was so great that she bought an
enormous gold locket, and, having inserted a portrait of Mr. Parnell
in it, wore it constantly. Mary, not to be outdone, thereupon bought
a locket of identically the same design, and {87} wore it with an air
of defiance, when bringing in tea, on New Year's Day.
This was against all regulations, and I said laughingly to Mr.
Parnell that he was introducing lawlessness into my household. He
answered, "Leave it to me," and when Mary appeared again he said
gently to her, "Mary, that is a magnificent locket, and I see you are
kind enough to wear my portrait in it. Mrs. O'Shea tells me that
Ellen has bought one also, but I just want you and Ellen not to wear
them outside like that, for Mrs. O'Shea lets me come down here for a
rest, and if people know I'm here I shall be worried to death with
politics and people calling." So Mary promised faithfully, and Ellen
came running in to promise too, and to threaten vengeance on "the
others" if absolute silence was not observed. The lockets went
"inside," and only a tiny bit of chain was allowed to show at the
throat in evidence of homage continued, though hidden.
Meanwhile, events were fusing in Ireland. Parnell had gone over
there immediately after Christmas. From Dublin he wrote:--
DUBLIN,
_Monday evening, December_ 27, 1880.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I have been exceedingly anxious all day at
not receiving your promised telegram to hear how you got home;
trust I may have something to-morrow morning that it is all
right.[1]--Yours in haste, C. S. P.
MORRISON'S HOTEL,
_Tuesday, December_ 28, 1880.
MY DEAREST WIFE,--You will be delighted to learn that everything
is proceeding first-rate so far.
The jury sworn to-day cannot possibly convict us, and there is a
very fair chance of an acquittal. I do not think {88} the
Government will attempt to prevent me from being present at the
opening of Parliament, though I am not quite sure yet whether it
will be prudent for me to leave until Wednesday evening. So far
as I can see there is no necessity for the presence of any of the
Traversers; one of them, Gordon, who has broken his leg, has not
appeared at all, and his absence has not been even mentioned or
noticed.
I was immensely relieved by your letter this morning. You must
take great care of yourself for my sake and your and my
future.--Yours always, C. S. P.
I have wired and written to Madrid[2] explaining situation lest
my observations at yesterday's meeting as to doubt of my being in
Parliament, intended to throw dust in eyes of Government, might
be literally interpreted.
DUBLIN,
_Thursday, December_ 30, 1880.
MY DEAREST LOVE,--Your letters have reached me quite safely, and
you cannot tell how much pleasure they give me. I fear I was
very foolish to allow you to come with me the day of my
departure; I felt sure it would do much harm, and until your
first letter arrived I was in a continual panic lest some
dreadful disaster had happened.
That my poor love should have suffered so much makes my heart
very sore, and she must take great care of herself for the sake
of our future....
I enclose letter from W.S.[3]--Yours always affectionately, C. S.
P.
Will send you photo to-morrow.
DUBLIN,
_January_ 3, 1881.
MY DEAREST WIFIE,--Was most delighted on return this morning from
Avondale to find your three letters and telegrams. I think it
would make you happy and more contented during my absence if you
knew how I watched for your letters, and how often I read and
re-read them.
I felt very much tempted to run over and spend the New Year and
Sunday with you, but feared you might not be alone.
{89}
It pains me very much that my own love was unhappy about that
stupid thing in the _Freeman_ on Thursday. An old and ugly woman
with whom I was very slightly acquainted, but who wanted to put
herself _en evidence_, perched herself just behind me, and got a
gentleman sitting next to her to hand me down a slip of paper, on
which was written some message of congratulation. I only
rewarded her with a stare, did not even bow or smile, and
certainly sent no communication of any kind in reply. That was
all. I will ask my own dearest to believe in me while I am away,
and never again to feel unhappiness from want of confidence.
I have made all arrangements to leave by mail on Wednesday
morning, and shall be with my own wifie on Wednesday evening
about eight.--Yours, C. S. P.
Mr. Parnell held the Party meeting in Dublin on January 4th, and
returned to me on January 5th, in time for the meeting of the House
(on 6th January, 1881), not having thought it necessary to remain in
Ireland till the termination of the trials--a circumstance which,
curiously enough, was not publicly remarked upon. We spent some days
together at Eltham, and I took Mr. Parnell to see my aunt, who was
much charmed with him. His quiet manners and soft, clear voice
pleased her greatly, as also did his personal appearance. She took
his arm, and paced up and down the tapestry room with him, while she
told him how she was introduced to O'Connell in the old days, when
her husband, Benjamin Wood, was M.P. for Southwark. She had met
O'Connell at the House, and heard what was said to have been one of
his greatest speeches. She said, "I much prefer your voice, Mr.
Parnell, for Daniel O'Connell's enunciation was startling to me."
Though such a great age, my aunt had still a very pretty round arm,
and as she always wore the net sleeves of her youth, fastened with
old-fashioned bracelets, Mr. Parnell noticed this, and commented upon
the fact to me. {90} The old lady was much gratified when I told her
of this. She enlisted his sympathy by telling him that she had to
pay £500 a year in order to keep her beautiful old grounds intact, as
the Crown desired to sell the place for building lots, and she was
determined to die in the old house she had lived in for over fifty
years.
The State trial ended on January 25th, 1881, the foreman of the jury
stating: "We are unanimous that we cannot agree," as Mr. Parnell had
assured me they would. He was in Court and loudly cheered as he
hastened off to catch the boat to England.
[1] That Captain O'Shea had left Eltham for Madrid.
[2] To Captain O'Shea.
[3] Captain O'Shea.
{91}