MORE KILMAINHAM LETTERS
"_The soul of a philosopher will consider that it is the office of
philosophy to set her free._"--SOCRATES.
_January_ 3, 1882.
MY OWN DARLING QUEENIE,--Many happy New Years, my own love, with
your husband to make you happy.
My Queenie must take great care of herself, and must be sure to
have at least one doctor in February. It will never do to let it
trust to chance.
There is every prospect of my being able to see my darling soon,
but it does not do to be too sure, as things change so much from
day to day.
_January_ 7, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--If Queenie could see her husband reading her
letters over and over again every night she would have more faith
in their readable quality and power for giving her husband
happiness than she can have in looking at the blank paper as the
result of her work. The paper of that of the 6th, which reached
me to-day, is exactly suited; but Wifie, in sending two sheets,
one of them quite blank, makes a bad conspirator, but I must
forgive her, as the result is by no means blank to me.
I do feel very anxious about you, my darling, and cannot help it.
You must tell the doctor, and never mind about ----. Could you
not go to London or Brighton about the beginning of February?
London would be best, if you could get him away on any pretext;
but if you could not, Brighton would leave you most free from him.
It is perfectly dreadful that Wifie should be so worried at
night. I had hoped that the doctor's orders would have prevented
that.
I am being fed very well. Chops or grilled turkey or eggs {140}
and bacon for breakfast, soup and chops for luncheon, and joint
and vegetables, etc., for dinner, and sometimes oysters. The
"one meal a day" is only a pretence. Each man gets £2 when
arrested, and 15s. a week, and can feed himself as he likes.
Most of them pocket the money and make the Government feed them.
You can understand the unwillingness of W.'s friend to leave
under these circumstances. The Government food is much better
now after the row about it, so most of the men can manage very
well with it, and send the 15s. home or put it in bank. I expect
the majority of the Irish people will be here after a time, the
pay is so good and it is quite a safe place. I am very well,
dearest Queenie, and enjoying our new exercise yard very much.
YOUR OWN KING.
_January_ 11, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--Yes, I will go to you, my love, immediately I am
released. There is nothing in the world that I can do in
Ireland, nor is it likely that I shall be able to do anything
here for a long time to come. Certainly until the Coercion Act
has expired I will not speak here again, so Queenie need not be
afraid that when she gets me again she will lose me.
I am disposed to think that Government at present intend to
release me shortly before opening of Parliament, but, of course,
they may change their mind and hasten or postpone my release.
Anyhow, let Queenie's mind be quite at rest, I am very well and
am growing more vigorous every day, the air and exercise in the
new yard suiting me exactly.
I long very, very much to be with my own Wifie again, and wish I
could take care of and comfort her in the time that is
coming--Queenie has been very good and very loving to her husband
to give him this child, and to take such care of it during this
long, sad interval, but she must remember that she is far more to
me than all the world beside, and that she must specially take
care of herself, as her King cannot now live without her.
I had forgotten to tell you that the jacket and other things you
gave me have been very useful and comfortable. During my illness
I wore it all the time, and wear it now in the {141} mornings to
read the newspapers. It has quite cured pain in shoulder.
I do trust you have been now relieved for a time by his
departure, and that you are getting a little sleep. It is enough
to have killed you several times over, my own Queenie.
ALWAYS YOUR OWN HUSBAND.
_January_ 17, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--The large paper is very good, the best for the
purpose of any you have tried yet.
Your husband is so happy that you have at last been left free for
a time.
Queenie may send her letters from any place about that she likes,
but she had best not write direct, as there is a very sharp-eyed
man over the letters.
Very much lighter writing will do, and it might be written
between the lines of the ordinary ink, but it is best not to risk
anything just now.
I think Brighton will do very well if Wifie likes it, and if it
would be safe for her to be so far from London. Her King could
be there quite well, as he intends to take a holiday when
released, and will not go to work at once.
Have just received formal and usual notice of further detention,
first three months being up. The other two have also received
theirs. This has no significance one way or the other, as nobody
has ever been released at the end of the exact period. My own
Wifie must try and keep herself well and strong. Does she feel
so? I wish I could be with my poor darling.
It is really the only reason why I wish for a change, and my
Queenie's loneliness and weariness makes me very unhappy.
Yesterday and to-day as three of us were exercising in our yard
the gates in adjoining yard leading into the outer world were
opened twice to permit some carts to come in and go out. A low
wall only separated the two yards, across which we could have
easily sprung; there was no warder in our yard, and only one in
the next, with his back turned to us. So, you see, we can get
out whenever we want to. Trying to escape is six months with
hard labour, so we have nothing {142} to gain by it, even if they
keep us till end of Act in October, which they are not at all
likely to do.
YOUR OWN LOVING HUSBAND.
_January_ 21, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--On further consideration I think it would be
much too risky for my darling to go to Brighton, as you would be
too far from the doctor, so let it be London or home. I shall
find means to see my Wifie wherever she is.
It looks like our release shortly.
Yours of 19th received.
January 23, 1882.
We have got an air-gun and practise every day.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--Your letter of the day before yesterday makes me
very nervous about my own love again, as I fear from it that you
are going to distress and worry yourself about me again. I can
assure you, my own, that I am exceedingly well, and am likely to
remain so.
Notwithstanding the newspapers, it is most unlikely they will
keep us here till the commencement of session. D., indeed, will
probably go out in a day or two on account of his health; but in
any case my Queenie must not think of worrying about her husband,
as he is very comfortable and happy where he is, if he might only
see his own Wifie sometimes. I should feel quite lonely now in
London without being able to see my darling, and I should very
much prefer to stay here than to be all alone in London while
Wifie is suffering, except that I know it would comfort her to
have me even so near her.
I hope you have received my letter saying that I think London or
home the best for you, and not Brighton; the latter would be much
too far from the doctors. Does Wifie feel strong and well? I
fear my poor Queenie has had a dreadful time of it, and our poor
little child also.
YOUR OWN LOVING KING.
_January_ 28, 1882.
MY OWN DEAREST QUEENIE, I did not like to write direct, lest
there should be any mistake, especially as my paper is not very
suitable. It looks as if they were going to keep me here {143}
for a while longer, probably till a month or so after the opening
of session, in order that they may get their new rules more
easily.
I do not know what to say, my darling, about your going to
Brighton, but Queenie will decide best for herself. I hope Wifie
will not feel much worried about not seeing me so soon as she
hoped. Her husband is very well indeed, and in the best of
spirits.
I do not like your going to London so often, it may hurt you. Is
there any address you could get nearer home, so that you would
not have to go so far?
My poor little Wifie, I wish I could be with you, but Queenie
must be good and take care of herself.
It looks to-day as if D. would go out soon; in that case it would
facilitate our release. YOUR OWN KING.
_January_ 31, 1882.
Have received your two letters postmarked E. Be cautious about
writing for a few days. I am very well, and trust my darling is
well.
Rumours about legal adviser being arrested, but will send you
another address to-morrow.
_February_ 2, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--Have just received your third letter with E.
postmark--shall write you to-morrow direct so as to avoid for you
the fatigue of going to London. The writing between the lines
comes out perfectly, and you need at no time write more heavily.
With best love and urgent request that my darling will take care
of herself. YOUR OWN KING.
_February_ 3, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--You really must try and sleep properly at night
and stop worrying yourself about me. I can assure my darling
there is nothing to feel unhappy about so far as my health goes.
I really cannot remember when I have ever felt so well in my life.
It is very very hard not to be able to see each other, and that
my poor Wifie should not have her husband with her {144} now--I
think after this letter I shall be able to write you a few lines
occasionally home, so as to save Wifie going to London, but if
she writes to me in the same way she must be very careful and
write very lightly and between the lines. A gold pen is, I
think, better than a quill.
The alarm about the legal adviser has blown over, so Queenie may
direct as usual.
The Paris failures don't concern us in any way, as everything is
secure.[1]
Give my best love to our little child, and take good care of
yourself and it for my sake. YOUR OWN HUSBAND.
_February_ 10, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--I have received your note postmarked 7th, but
have not had time to read it yet.
I hope my darling will take better care of herself; that journey
to London in the fog was most dangerous for her.
I think that we shall probably be released by the middle of
March, as it will be known then which way the tenants intend to
go, and we shall be able to decide whether it is worth our while
remaining here any longer.
How does Queenie intend letting her husband know how she is?
YOUR OWN LOVING KING
_February_ 14.
MY OWN DARLING QUEENIE,--To-day I have written you direct,
sending a few words between the lines, just to see how it will
answer. I find that rubbing with blotting paper after the words
are dry takes away any glistening or appearance of letters. My
own Wifie had best not try writing direct here, but send all her
letters as usual, and continue to do so.
The note I have just written goes out through a warder, and I
think I shall always be able to manage in that way, but in case
Queenie should get a letter from me through the Governor she will
see it marked with his initials on the top left-hand corner, and
in that case she might write me a commonplace letter direct here,
but nothing between the lines.
Wifie is very good indeed to write her husband such beautiful
{145} letters; if she only knew what a pleasure and happiness
every word from her is to her husband it might make her feel a
little less unhappy. I am very much troubled about my darling
having become so thin, and fear that you have suffered a great
deal more than you have ever told me, and that you are not
strong. I often reproach myself for having been so cruel to my
own love in staying so long away from her that time, which has
led to such a long, long separation. I was dragged into that
Kildare engagement, otherwise I should have been safe with Wifie.
Until then I had settled that I should leave Ireland after
Wexford. It would, however, have been very difficult for me to
have kept out of the country even if I had left then, and on the
whole I hope it will turn out all for the best. At least, I am
very glad that the days of platform speeches have gone by and are
not likely to return. I cannot describe to you the disgust I
always felt with those meetings, knowing as I did how hollow and
wanting in solidity everything connected with the movement was.
When I was arrested I did not think the movement would have
survived a month, but this wretched Government have such a
fashion for doing things by halves that it has managed to keep
things going in several of the counties up till now. However,
next month, when the seeding time comes, will probably see the
end of all things and our speedy release.
I hope Wifie has got her house in London; I am exceedingly
anxious about those long journeys to London for you, my own.
Your husband is very well indeed, and is, I think, actually
beginning to grow fat!
I think Queenie ought to congratulate me at being away from the
House instead of pitying me.
When I get out I hope to have a good long rest with my own little
Wifie somewhere, and to listen to the waves breaking as we used
those mornings of spring last May.
YOUR OWN LOVING HUSBAND.
_February_ 17, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--I had written my Queenie a nice long letter
which she should have liked very much, but an alarm came before
my messenger arrived that we were all going to be searched, and I
was obliged to burn it.
{146}
I intend to try and send you a letter direct, written between the
lines--I find that by rubbing the words after they are dry it
removes all the glistening appearance.
Queenie had best not write me direct at any time, but she can
send me a word in the usual way as soon as she is able to tell me
how she is. Your King will wait very anxiously for that word.
Oh, my Queenie, do take care of yourself, and do not run any risk
by remaining at E.
It is exceedingly likely that we shall all be released about the
end of March, as then the lading time comes, and the tenants will
have to decide whether they will pay or not, and as the majority
have decided to pay already it is most likely the minority will
then follow suit. YOUR OWN KING.
_February_ 17, 1882.
MY OWN DARLING QUEENIE,--I cannot describe to you what a relief
your little note was that everything was quite right. Oh, my
Wifie, when I had your two short messages of the 14th your poor
husband burst into tears and could not hold up his head or think
of anything until my darling's note arrived that everything was
right.
My own, you must be very good and quiet until you are quite
strong again, and do not be in a hurry to get up.
I have only just a minute to close this as my Mercury is waiting.
YOUR OWN LOVING HUSBAND.
My baby was born on February 16th, 1882. I was very ill, but the joy
of possessing Parnell's child carried me through my trouble. She was
a beautiful baby, apparently strong and healthy--for the first few
weeks--and with the brown eyes of her father. This child of tragedy
rarely cried, but lay watching me with eyes thoughtful and searching
beyond the possibility of her little life. I used to seek in hers
for the fires always smouldering in the depths of her father's eyes,
but could not get beyond that curious gravity and understanding in
them, lightened only by the little smile she gave when I came near.
* * * * * *
{147}
_March_ 5, 1882.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--It is so long since I have heard from you
that I sometimes wonder whether you have quite forgotten me.
In case you see any of my friends who may inquire after me, will
you kindly tell them that I am very well, and that there is no
truth in the stupid rumour which appeared in some of the London
papers about the seven days' solitary confinement--I was merely
prevented from receiving or sending letters for a week; the
latter portion of the sentence did not trouble me much, as I am
an even worse correspondent in here than when I was outside.
I think you will scarcely know me when you see me again, I have
become so fat.
I have not heard from your sister for a great many months; in
fact have only had one letter from her since I have been here.
Believe me, yours very truly, CHAS. S. PARNELL.
_March_ 16, 1882.
MY OWN DARLING QUEENIE,--You are very good to your husband in
writing so often and so lovingly to your King, even when you must
have been suffering terribly. I cannot describe to my little
Wifie how hopeless and utterly miserable I felt until your little
note came that all was quite right. I am very happy, my own,
that our little daughter pleases you, and that you are not too
much disappointed, and that she is strong and good-tempered.
Does Queenie think she will be too big? I shall love her very
much better than if it had been a son; indeed, my darling, I do
love her very much already, and feel very much like a father.
What do you intend to call her?
Will you not give her papa's best love and innumerable kisses?
I have been arranging a little happiness, I hope, for Queenie, as
soon as she is strong and well enough to come over here and can
manage it. I have been training up Captain Barlow, the chairman
of the Prisons Board, to allow me to see my married sisters in
private. To-day I got him to give {148} me a private visit with
one of them, Mrs. Dickinson, for the first time, and I did so
with the intention of passing Queenie off as another married
sister after a time. Wifie will then be able to come and see for
herself how well her husband looks, and how happy and comfortable
he is. I don't know whether they intend to move me or not, and
do not like to guess, but wherever I go I shall be probably very
well off. The dusting they got in the House the other night
about treatment of the rank and file will do them good. I am
told that all the police in the King's County were drafted into
Tullamore and put into plain clothes to form an audience for
Forster. Shall send Wifie my weight to-morrow with certificate
of chief warder so that you may believe it.
Do you remember what it was the last time? I think Wifie has the
ticket, and that it was about twelve stone.
I hear from all over the country that the tenants are everywhere
settling, so we shall be probably out in a couple of months,
unless we are kept to make sure that they pay the next time.
I hope my own love will take good care of herself and not try to
go to London too soon. I want Queenie when I see her to be an
even younger little Wifie than when I gave her that last kiss.
The idea of nursing our little daughter was too preposterous.
Do, my own darling, think of yourself and take great, great care
of your husband's own little Wifie.
Good-night, my own darling Queenie.
YOUR LOVING HUSBAND.
_March_ 23, 1882.
MY OWN DARLING WIFIE,--I have only just got an opportunity of
sending my Queenie a few lines, and will write a nice long letter
to-night.
No letter came to me from you between that dated March 14 and the
two of March 20. A reference to his[2] return from Paris makes
me think that you may have sent me one between, informing me that
he had gone, which I did not receive. If you think one has been
intercepted write in {149} future to Mr. W. Kerr, Casino,
Rathdrum, and they will reach me safely, otherwise no change need
be made.
The letter written between the lines, of which I spoke, was that
refused by the warder, and I did not send it.
Mrs. S. has written me that she has "seen you recently," and that
you "have not left your room," assuming that I know all about it.
What am I to say to her?
I have not been weighed yet, but shall try to-day and send my own
darling the true weight. It must be considerably more than 12-5.
My beautiful little Wifie must continue to take great care of
herself and not go too often to town.
YOUR OWN LOVING KING.
_March_ 24, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--Since writing you yesterday have received your
letter dated 17th, which had accidentally gone astray, so if
there is no other letter which I ought to have got you can send
to the same address as usual.
YOUR OWN KING.
_March_ 27, 1882.
MY OWN DARLING QUEENIE,--I am very anxious about our little
daughter. Is it dangerous?
Was weighed yesterday--12 st. 7 lb. Have certainly gained five
or six pounds since I have been here.
How did Wifie find out I had grown a beard?
YOUR OWN LOVING KING.
I don't think we shall be moved.
_March_ 29, 1882.
MY OWN DARLING LITTLE WIFIE,--I am very much relieved to hear
that our little child is better, and is likely to be all right
soon; but fear my poor Queenie must have been exhausted by all
that hunting about for nurses. I cannot consent to Wifie turning
nurse even when brown eyes do come. She is much too good and
beautiful for anything of the kind.
Do you remember a small pair of scissors with fine points that
Queenie once gave me in London? I have got them still, and cut
my cigar with them every morning.
{150}
Shall write Mrs. ---- as you suggest, and say how sorry to hear
you had not left your room, and that I had seen the event in the
_Times_ and hoped you would soon be quite well again. If my own
can make an arrangement now for him[3] to keep away, I think she
ought to do so. It will be too intolerable having him about
always. When I see Wifie again or am released, I can consider
the situation, but until then, if you can you had best make some
arrangement.
Wifie must not be frightened at the vapourings of the Government
yesterday; they amount to nothing, and they know perfectly well
that neither I nor any of my friends outside have sanctioned in
any way certain recent deplorable occurrences. They are simply
the result of leaving the people without guidance and appear to
be quite spontaneous. In any case the country is likely to quiet
down as the days get longer and the crops commence to spring up.
D. is to be released immediately the House adjourns for Easter,
and after a time, when they find nothing happening as a
consequence of his release, they will probably take courage and
let me out also. Anyhow this Government are going down the hill
very fast, and are not likely to last more than another session,
and we will take care that if they once go out they shall not
come in again very quickly. My own loveliest Wifie, I do not
think they intend moving me. YOUR LOVING HUSBAND.
_March_ 30.
The London correspondent of _Freeman_ is very ignorant.
March 30, 1882.
MY OWN LITTLE WIFIE,--The letter posted at Bexley reached me all
right after it had gone astray for two or three days. Queenie's
of 28th has also reached me.
I suppose you did not address one to Casino, as I have had none
from there. I wrote yesterday to say that I think you had best
make some arrangement about him pending my release, and when that
takes place we can consider further.
I will let my darling see me any time as soon as she is quite
strong again. We are going to have a weekly biography {151} of
doubtful Irish members in _Irishman_ or rather _United Ireland_
which will come out again shortly in such a form as to save it
from seizure.
If Queenie sends me some of our daughter's hair I will put it in
the locket I have with Wifie's. Would Sophie make a nice second
name? It was the name of one of my sisters whom I was said to be
most like of the family; but possibly it might make suspicions.
I am very anxious about my darling going to London so often; it
must be very bad for you. You may try your next letter upon
ordinary paper, unglazed, and do not crowd what you write in
ordinary ink into one little space in the middle of the sheet.
After the solution has dried if you rub over the letters with an
ink eraser it will remove all the glistening and appearance of
letters. I wonder they have never opened any of them, but they
may do it at any time. It would not hurt me in any way as I do
not use it for any other purpose. Unless, indeed, they sent it
to a certain person.
Queenie must not be alarmed about stupid rumours in the papers.
You know what these liners are, and the _Freeman_ agent in London
is singularly stupid and badly informed.
YOUR LOVING HUSBAND.
_April_ 5, 1883.
MY OWN DEAREST WIFIE,--I think it very likely that something will
be done by the Government shortly on the arrears question. If
this be so, things will undoubtedly quiet down a great deal, and
it will give us an opportunity of coming to some arrangement. I
do not in the least apprehend that any further steps will be
taken against me in any case, though, of course, they would
eagerly grasp at the slightest thing in order to try and throw
discredit on me.
So far as I can judge, the number of outrages has diminished very
materially during the last two or three weeks, and is likely to
continue decreasing.
My own Wifie must remember that I was only 12 st. 2 lb. when I
came here, as I had fallen away very much after I left her, and
that I have got back 5 lb. since, notwithstanding my illness,
which left me very thin indeed. Poor little Queenie {152} must
be greatly troubled and anxious at all the rumours she hears, but
she need not regard any of them; she knows what newspaper men are.
Give my best love and ever so many kisses to our little daughter.
I am very much troubled about her health, and hope it will not
make her permanently delicate.
I am longing very very much to see my own Wifie. I love you, my
darling, more and more every day, and I should feel quite
reconciled to giving up politics for ever and living with my
sweet Katie all by ourselves away from everybody and everything.
I do not think anything will ever induce me to speak from a
platform again. I always disliked it excessively, but I should
loathe it now. Wifie must not, however, suppose that I am
annoyed with the way things have gone. On the contrary,
everything has succeeded remarkably, and much better than anybody
could have expected.
It is thought that D.[4] will be released to-morrow.--Good-night,
my own Wifie. YOUR LOVING HUSBAND.
_April_ 7, 1882.
MY OWN DEAREST WIFIE,--I am so happy from receiving your letter
of the 5th to-day, although part of what you say about our
daughter makes me very anxious indeed.
I hope the poor little thing will soon get over it. Her hair is
absolutely lovely. I am so glad it is more like Queenie's than
mine, although there is enough of mine in it to spoil it somewhat
and render it less beautiful than Wifie's. Still, there is a
splendid golden tint in it which is quite exceptional.
Wifie need not feel at all anxious about me or anything which the
Government are likely to do or be able to do. Although there
have been one or two bad events things are getting much quieter
every day. D. is going abroad and will not even appear in the
House for a couple of months. My mother's health has, I fear,
become very much broken latterly, and after a time I think of
applying to go over to see her, but I must try and get O. K.[5]
out first.
I am still keeping very well, although have missed the
ball-playing very much for the last three weeks, as O. K., {153}
who used to play with me, has been ill. I think my weight is
very good considering the hard exercise I have been taking and
the good condition I am in. I hope my precious one is getting
strong again and that she will have some good news to tell me of
our little daughter when she writes next.
YOUR OWN LOVING HUSBAND.
I will not speak of my anguish when I found that the child of my love
was slowly dying, and that the doctors I called in could do nothing
for her. Slowly she faded from me, daily gaining in that
far-reaching expression of understanding that dying children have so
strongly, and my pain was the greater in that I feared her father
would never see her now.
Willie was very good; I told him my baby was dying and I must be left
alone. He had no suspicion of the truth, and only stipulated that
the child should be baptized at once--urged thereto, I think, by his
mother and sister. I had no objection to this. Parnell and I had
long before agreed that it would be safer to have the child
christened as a Catholic, and he had no feeling at all against the
Catholic religion, considering, indeed, that for those who required a
religion it was an admirable one. I made an altar of flowers in my
drawing-room, as the child was much too ill to be taken to church,
and there the priest, Father Hart, came and baptized Sophie Claude.
Sophie, after Parnell's sister, Claude, after Lord Truro, an old
friend of mine.
A few days before the death of my baby I had the unspeakable comfort
of knowing that Parnell could come to me for a few hours and perhaps
see his child while she lived. His nephew, son of his sister Delia
(Mrs. Thomson), had died in Paris, and the authorities gave Parnell
leave on "parole" to attend the young man's {154} funeral. A
brilliant, handsome fellow, great sympathy was felt with the parents
of this only son.
Spring was very early that year, and in the April morning when the
air was fragrant with the sweet freshness of the spring flowers and
the very breath of life was in the wind, Parnell came to me and I put
his dying child into his arms.
That evening he had to go on to Paris.
GRAND HOTEL,
12 BOULEVARD DES CAPUCINES, PARIS.
_Thursday, April_ 13, 1882.
MY OWN QUEENIE,--I hope to leave Paris on Saturday morning. The
doctor says the fever is not infectious, but I doubt it very
much, as a great many people amongst the American colony are
having it just now. I am staying here, but I am obliged to go to
the house, which has been well disinfected, to see my sister, who
is very much cut up. The risk to me is a minimum, as I had this
fever very badly when I was young, and they say people very
rarely have it a second time, and then only slightly.
At all events it is the ordinary typhoid, which doctors say is
not catching.
I shall take a Turkish bath every day I am here, and adopt other
precautions. YOUR OWN LOVING KING.
GRAND HOTEL,
12 BOULEVARD DES CAPUCINES, PARIS,
_Saturday, April_ 15, 1882.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I think of leaving Paris to spend a few
days in the south or elsewhere on Monday morning. Had intended
starting this evening, but caught a slight cold coming over,
which the doctor, whom my sister insisted on seeing me, says is
nothing, but think I had best not travel till Monday.
I am very glad that I came over, as my sister is in a very low
state, and my coming has picked her up very much, believe me,
yours always truly, CHARLES S. PARNELL.
{155}
GRAND HOTEL,
12 BOULEVARD DES CAPUCINES, PARIS,
_Sunday, April_ 16, 1882.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--Having fallen into the hands of the doctor,
he informed me to-day that he was coming again to-morrow morning,
and upon my saying that I wished to commence my journey to the
country to-morrow he said he would let me go on Tuesday morning.
Perhaps it is better so, as I might catch fresh cold if I started
so soon as to-morrow.
I was out a good deal yesterday by the doctor's orders, and dined
with my sister in the evening. She is much better.
To-day a north wind is blowing, and I shall not go out much,
although my cold is quite gone. I think I caught it from leaving
off a flannel jacket which I used to wear when asleep in prison.
It would have been a bad chest cold had I not taken two Turkish
baths immediately I felt it coming on.
I am staying here under the name of Stewart, and have not been
found out yet.--Yours very sincerely,
CHARLES S. PARNELL.
After his nephew's funeral he returned to Eltham, having, before,
telegraphed to Willie to say that he was coming. He wished to
conciliate Willie as much as possible, and believed that his politics
might now prove useful.
All that night of the 21st April Parnell and Willie sat up in my
dining-room discussing the Irish question, and bit by bit working out
the "Kilmainham Treaty." Willie wanted me to join them, but I would
not leave my baby, and when the daylight came and they went to lie
down for a few hours' rest before Parnell left for Ireland, my little
one died as my lover stole in to kiss us both and say good-bye.
Overlooking the valley in the Catholic churchyard at Chislehurst is
her little grave, headed by a granite cross {156} and wreathed about
with clematis and white roses; and often as we drove past on our way
home through the summer evenings Parnell would go in to scatter the
wild flowers he had gathered for me over little Sophie's
resting-place.
The following letter from my sister-in-law, Mary O'Shea, I insert, as
proving, I think very conclusively, that my little one's paternity
was utterly unsuspected by the O'Sheas.
PARIS, AVENUE WAGRAM 137,
_Sunday, May_ 21, 1882.
DEAREST KATIE,--We are very pleased to be able to hope that you
are better. How is your dear aunt? We trust she is better. I
cannot express our feelings of affectionate regard for her, nor
can I say adequately how truly we desire her happiness here and
for all eternity in Heaven. She has been so sweet a friend and
so charming in all her ways towards your dear children, "the
butterflies"--most attractive designation. Dear Lady O'Donnell
wrote a rapturous description of the little creatures. She loved
your dear little Claude, and shared your grief at losing her, but
happy child, how glorious is her existence! What a contrast to
ours, we who must struggle on, working out our salvation in fear
and trembling!..."
[1] An allusion to political funds banked in Paris.
[2] Captain O'Shea.
[3] Captain O'Shea.
[4] Dillon.
[5] O'Kelly.
{157}