MARRIAGE, ILLNESS AND DEATH
"_O gentle wind that bloweth south
To where my love re-paireth,
Convey a kiss to his dear mouth
And tell me how he fareth._"
--OLD BALLAD.
"_He that well and rightly considereth his own works will find little
cause to judge hardly of another._"--THOMAS À KEMPIS.
On June 24th, 1891, Mr. Parnell drove over to Steyning to see that
all the arrangements for our marriage at the registrar's office there
on the next day were complete. Mr. Edward Cripps, the registrar, had
everything in order, and it was arranged that we should come very
early so as to baffle the newspaper correspondents, who had already
been worrying Mr. Cripps, and who hung about our house at Brighton
with an inconvenient pertinacity. We had given Mr. Parnell's servant
elaborate orders to await us, with Dictator in the phaeton, at a
short distance from the house about eleven o'clock on the 25th, and
told him he would be required as a witness at our wedding. This
little ruse gave us the early morning of the 25th clear, as the
newspaper men soon had these instructions out of the discomfited
young man, who had been told not to talk to reporters.
On June 25th I was awakened at daybreak by my lover's tapping at my
door and calling to me: "Get up, get up, it is time to be married!"
Then a humming and excitement began through the house as the maids
flew {313} about to get us and breakfast ready "in time," before two
of them, Phyllis Bryson, my very dear personal maid--who had put off
her own marriage for many years in order to remain with me--and my
children's old nurse, drove off to catch the early train to Steyning,
where they were to be witnesses of our marriage. Phyllis was so
determined to put the finishing touches to me herself that she was at
last hustled off by Parnell, who was in a nervous fear that everyone
would be late but the newspaper men. Phyllis was fastening a posy at
my breast when Parnell gently but firmly took it from her and
replaced it with white roses he had got for me the day before.
Seeing her look of disappointment he said, "She must wear mine
to-day, Phyllis, but she shall carry yours, and you shall keep them
in remembrance; now you must go!"
He drove the maids down the stairs and into the waiting cab, going
himself to the stables some way from the house, and returning in an
amazingly short time with Dictator in the phaeton and with a
ruffled-looking groom who appeared to have been sleeping in his
livery--it was so badly put on. Parnell ordered him in to have a cup
of tea and something to eat while he held the horse, nervously
calling to me at my window to be quick and come down. Then, giving
the groom an enormous "buttonhole," with fierce orders not to dare to
put it on till we were well on our way, Parnell escorted me out of
the house, and settled me in the phaeton with elaborate care.
As a rule Parnell never noticed what I wore. Clothes were always
"things" to him. "Your things become you always" was the utmost
compliment for a new gown I could ever extract from him; but that
morning, as he climbed in beside me and I took the reins, he said,
{314} "Queenie, you look lovely in that lace stuff and the beautiful
hat with the roses! I am so proud of you!"
And I was proud of my King, of my wonderful lover, as we drove
through that glorious June morning, past the fields of growing corn,
by the hedges heavy with wild roses and "traveller's joy," round the
bend of the river at Lancing, past the ruined tower where we had so
often watched the kestrels hover, over the bridge and up the street
of pretty, old-world Bramber into Steyning, and on to the
consummation of our happiness.
Parnell hardly spoke at all during this drive. Only, soon after the
start at six o'clock, he said, "Listen," and, smiling, "They are
after us; let Dictator go!" as we heard the clattering of horses far
behind. I let Dictator go, and he--the fastest (driving) horse I
have ever seen--skimmed over the nine miles in so gallant a mood that
it seemed to us but a few minutes' journey.
Mr. Cripps was in attendance, and Mrs. Cripps had very charmingly
decorated the little room with flowers, so there was none of the
dreariness usual with a registry marriage. As we waited for our
witnesses to arrive--we had beaten the train!--my King looked at us
both in the small mirror on the wall of the little room, and,
adjusting his white rose in his frock-coat, said joyously, "It isn't
every woman who makes so good a marriage as you are making, Queenie,
is it? and to such a handsome fellow, too!" blowing kisses to me in
the glass. Then the two maids arrived, and the little ceremony that
was to legalize our union of many years was quickly over.
On the return drive my husband pulled up the hood of the phaeton,
and, to my questioning look--for it was a hot morning--he answered
solemnly, "It's the right thing to do." As we drove off, bowing and
laughing {315} our thanks to Mr. Cripps and the others for their kind
and enthusiastic felicitations, he said, "How could I kiss you good
wishes for our married life unless we were hooded up like this!"
Just as we drove out of Steyning we passed the newspaper men arriving
at a gallop, and we peered out doubtfully at them, fearing they would
turn and come back after us. But I let Dictator have his head, and,
though they pulled up, they knew that pursuit was hopeless. My
husband looked back round the hood of the phaeton, and the groom
called out delightedly, "They've give up, and gone on to Mr. Cripps,
sir."
On our return to Walsingham Terrace we had to run the gauntlet
between waiting Pressmen up the steps to the house, but at my
husband's imperious "Stand back; let Mrs. Parnell pass! Presently,
presently; I'll see you presently!" they fell back, and we hid
ourselves in the house and sat down to our dainty little wedding
breakfast. Parnell would not allow me to have a wedding cake,
because he said he would not be able to bear seeing me eat our
wedding cake without him, and, as I knew, the very sight of a rich
cake made him ill.
Meanwhile the reporters had taken a firm stand at the front door, and
were worrying the servants to exasperation. One, a lady reporter for
an American newspaper, being more enterprising than the rest, got
into the house adjoining ours, which I also rented at that time, and
came through the door of communication on the balcony into my
bedroom. Here she was found by Phyllis, and as my furious little
maid was too small to turn the American lady out, she slipped out of
the door and locked it, to prevent further intrusion.
Then she came down to us in the dining-room, found {316} on the way
that the cook had basely given in to bribery, having "Just let one of
the poor gentlemen stand in the hall," and gave up the battle in
despair--saying, "Will Mrs. O'Shea see him, Mr. ---- wants to know?"
"Phyllis!" exclaimed my husband in a horrified voice, "what do you
mean? _Who_ is Mrs. O'Shea?"
Poor Phyllis gave one gasp at me and fled in confusion.
Then my King saw some of the newspaper people, and eased their minds
of their duty to their respective papers. The lady from America he
utterly refused to see, as she had forced herself into my room, but,
undaunted, she left vowing that she would cable a better "interview"
than any of them to her paper. They were kind enough to send it to
me in due course, and I must admit that even if not exactly accurate,
it was distinctly "bright." It was an illustrated "interview," and
Parnell and I appeared seated together on a stout little sofa, he
clad in a fur coat, and I in a dangerously _décolleté_ garment,
diaphanous in the extreme, and apparently attached to me by large
diamonds. My sedate Phyllis had become a stage "grisette" of most
frivolous demeanour, and my poor bedroom--in fact, the most solid and
ugly emanation of Early Victorian virtue I have ever had bequeathed
to me--appeared to an interested American State as the "very utmost"
in fluffy viciousness that could be evolved in the united capitals of
the demi-mondaine.
I showed this "interview" to my husband, though rather doubtful if he
would be amused by it; but he only said, staring sadly at it, "I
don't think that American lady can be a very nice person."
After he had sent the reporters off my King settled into his old coat
again, and subsided into his easy chair, smoking and quietly watching
me. I told him he must {317} give up that close scrutiny of me, and
that I did not stare at him till he grew shy.
"Why not?" he said. "A cat may look at a king, and surely a man may
look at his wife!"
But I refused to stay indoors talking nonsense on so lovely a day,
and we wandered out together along the fields to Aldrington. Along
there is a place where they make bricks. We stood to watch the men
at work, and Parnell talked to them till they went off to dinner.
Parnell watched them away till they were out of sight, and then said,
"Come on, Queenie, we'll make some bricks, too. I've learnt all
about it in watching them!" So we very carefully made two bricks
between us, and put them with the others in the kiln to burn. I
suggested marking our two bricks, so that we might know them when we
returned, but when we looked in the kiln some hours later they all
appeared alike.
Then we got down to the sea and sat down to watch it and rest. Far
beyond the basin at Aldrington, near the mouth of Shoreham Harbour,
we had the shore to ourselves and talked of the future, when Ireland
had settled down, and my King--king, indeed, in forcing reason upon
that unreasonable land and wresting the justice of Home Rule from
England--could abdicate; when we could go to find a better climate,
so that his health might become all I wished. We talked of the
summer visits we would make to Avondale, and of the glorious days
when he need never go away from me. Of the time when his hobbies
could be pursued to the end, instead of broken off for political
work. And we talked of Ireland, for Parnell loved her, and what he
loved I would not hate or thrust out from his thoughts, even on this
day that God had made.
Yet, as we sat together, silent now, even though we {318} spoke
together still with the happiness that has no words, a storm came
over the sea. It had been very hot all day and a thunderstorm was
inevitable; but, as we sheltered under the breakwater, I wished that
this one day might have been without a storm.
Reading my thoughts, he said: "The storms and thunderings will never
hurt us now, Queenie, my wife, for there is nothing in the wide world
that can be greater than our love; there is nothing in all the world
but you and I." And I was comforted because I did not remember death.
The news of our marriage was in all the evening papers, and already
that night began the bombardment of telegrams and letters of
congratulation and otherwise! The first telegram was to me, "Mrs.
Parnell," and we opened it together with much interest and read its
kind message from "Six Irish Girls" with great pleasure. The others,
the number of which ran into many hundreds, varied from the heartiest
congratulation to the foulest abuse, and were equally of no moment to
my husband, as he made no attempt to open anything in the
ever-growing heap of correspondence that, for weeks I kept on a large
tray in my sitting-room, and which, by making a determined effort
daily, I kept within bounds.
"Why do you have to open them all?" he asked me, looking at the heap
with the indolent disgust that always characterized him at the sight
of many letters.
"Well, I like reading the nice ones, and I can't tell which they are
till they're opened," I explained. "Now here is one that looks the
very epitome of all that is good and land outside-thick, good paper,
beautiful handwriting--and yet the inside is unprintable!"
Parnell held out his hand for it, but I would not give {319} anything
so dirty into his hand, and tore it across for the wastepaper basket,
giving him instead a dear little letter from a peasant woman in
Ireland, who invoked more blessings upon our heads than Heaven could
well spare us.
Little more than three months afterwards the telegrams and letters
again poured into the house. This time they were messages of
condolence, and otherwise. And again their message fell upon
unheeding ears, for the still, cold form lying in the proud
tranquillity of death had taken with him all my sorrow and my joy;
and as in that perfect happiness I had known no bitterness, for he
was there, now again these words of venom, speaking gladness because
he was dead, held no sting for me, for he was gone, and with him took
my heart.
The very many letters of true sympathy which reached me after my
husband's death were put away in boxes, and kept for me till I was
well enough for my daughter to read them to me. Among these were
many from clergymen of all denominations and of all ranks in the
great army of God. As I lay with closed eyes listening to the
message of these hearts I did not know I seemed to be back in the
little church at Cressing, and to hear my father's voice through the
mists of remembrance, saying: "And now abideth faith, hope, charity,
these three; but the greatest of these is _Charity_." ...
Among our many wedding presents was a charming little alabaster clock
from my husband's sister, Emily Dickinson. It was a ship's "wheel,"
and we were very gay over its coming, disputing as to which of us
should henceforth be the "man at the wheel." Parnell's mother also
was very sweet and kind to me, sending me several much prized
letters. Other members of my husband's family also wrote very kindly
to me, and I can still see {320} his tender smile at me as he saw my
appreciation of his family's attitude.
The presents we liked best, after Mrs. Dickinson's clock, were the
little humble offerings of little value and much love sent by working
men and women, by our servants, and by others of far countries and
near. Parcels arrived from the four quarters of the globe, and many
were beyond recognition on arrival, but the fragments were grateful
to me as bearing a message of true homage to my King.
Of other feeling there was little among these wedding gifts, though
one evening my eldest daughter who was with me, remarked casually to
me that she had confiscated a newly arrived "registered" parcel
addressed to me. "Oh, but you must not," I exclaimed, "I want them
all!" But she answered gloomily that this parcel had contained a
mouse, and "not at all the kind of mouse that anyone could have
wanted for days past." So I subsided without further interrogation.
Once when Parnell and I were staying at Bournemouth we became very
fond of some old engravings hanging in our hotel sitting-room,
illustrating "The Dowie Dens of Yarrow," and now, through these
fighting months in Ireland, we used this old ballad as a medium for
private telegrams, as we could not be sure they would not fall into
other hands. The idea took root when he first left me to attend what
I feared would be a hostile meeting in Ireland. He had wired the
political result to me, but had not said how he was feeling. I
telegraphed to him: "O gentle wind that bloweth south," and promptly
came the reply to me: "He fareth well."
All through these fighting months in Ireland he telegraphed to me
always in the morning and also in the {321} evening of every day he
was away from me, and whenever he could snatch a moment he wrote to
me. He was in no way unhappy in this last fight, and had only the
insidious "tiredness" that grew upon him with such deadly
foreshadowing of the end we would not see given him a little respite,
he could, he said, have enjoyed the stress and storm of battle. To
bend these rebels in Ireland to his will became but a secondary
driving force to that of gaining for Ireland the self-government to
which he had pledged himself for her, and I think it gave that zest
and joy in hardness to the battle that all the great fighters of the
world seem to have experienced.
I am not giving all his letters of this time; just a few of the
little messages of my husband's love in these last days I must keep
for my own heart to live upon; but the two or three that I give are
sufficient to show the high, quiet spirit of the man who was said to
be "at bay." Letters, I think, rather of a king, serene in his
belief in the ultimate sanity of his people and of the justice of his
cause.
BALLINA,
_March_ 24, 1891.
The reception here yesterday was magnificent, and the whole
country for twenty-five miles from here to the town of Sligo is
solid for us, and will vote 90 out of 100 for us, the priests
being in our favour with one exception, and the seceders being
unable to hold a meeting anywhere. I am to keep in this friendly
district, and to hold meetings there, and shall not go outside of
it.
The town of Sligo, and the district from there to Cliffony, is
hostile, the priests being against us, and I shall not go into
it, but we have a good friendly minority even in this district,
whom our agents will canvass privately. You will see the
situation on the map.
Wire me to Ballina, every day, which will be my headquarters;
also write particulars if any news.
{322}
BIG ROCK QUARRIES, ARKLOW, Co. WICKLOW,
_August_ 15, 1891.
MY OWN WIFIE,--Your telegram only received this evening, in
consequence of my being at the mine.
I think you might fix the end of the year as the time you and I
would guarantee the payment of the costs.[1] If Wontner accepts
this or any modification of it which would give me, say, three
months to pay, telegraph Pym as follows: "No." If he declines to
accept, or you cannot come to any definite arrangement with
Wontner by Tuesday at midday, telegraph Pym "Yes." I have
written Pym advising him accordingly about the appeal, and
sending the lodgment money, but it would be better if possible
that you should telegraph Pym on Monday afternoon. I trust to be
able to cross on Tuesday morning or evening at latest. It is
very fine here, but I have had no shooting, and do not expect
any, as I have to be in Dublin all day Monday arranging about new
paper.---With best love, YOUR OWN HUSBAND.
You should ask Wontner to telegraph you definitely as early as
possible on Monday.
MORRISON'S HOTEL, DUBLIN,
_September_ 1, 1891.
MY OWN WIFIE,--I have received Magurri's letter safely, and hope
to be able to leave here on Wednesday (to-morrow) evening,
sleeping at Holyhead, and visiting the place in Wales[2] next
morning on my way back to London.
MacDermott says he does not think I can get the loan from
Hibernian Bank concluded within a fortnight, but will hasten
matters as much as possible. The bank and their solicitors
approve the security and proposal generally, but it will take a
little time to make the searches and go through other formalities
which lawyers always insist upon in such cases.
By to-morrow I expect to have done as much as I possibly can for
the present in the matter of the new paper. It has been a very
troublesome business, as a dispute has arisen between different
sections of my own friends as to who shall {323} have the largest
share in the management of the new organ. This dispute somewhat
impedes progress and increases the difficulties. However, the
matter is not so pressing, as the _Freeman_ question is again
postponed for another fortnight. I expect to make a satisfactory
arrangement about my _Freeman_ shares, under which I shall lose
nothing by them. Kerr is making progress in getting up a small
company to buy a steamer, and I think he may succeed.
I have been very much bored, as I am obliged to remain in the
hotel all day every day, waiting to see people who may call about
the different undertakings. I wonder whether you have been
driving at all, and how the eyes are, and how you have been
doing. You have not written to tell me.--With much love,
MY OWN LITTLE WIFIE'S HUSBAND.
MORRISON'S HOTEL, DUBLIN,
_Monday, September_ 7, 1801
MY OWN WIFIE,--I have told Kerr that he cannot have any of the
first thousand, so he is going to manage without it for the
present, so you may reckon on that amount
The bank was to have given me that sum to-day, but a hitch
occurred on Saturday which I removed to-day, and the board will
meet to-morrow and ratify the advance.
YOUR OWN HUSBAND.
In great haste.
The trouble about the jealousies of would-be directors on the new
board still continues, and have postponed selection till next
week--crossing to-morrow night.
On my husband's return home from Ireland in September, after having
established the _Irish Daily Independent_, he was looking so worn out
and ill that I was thoroughly alarmed about his health. He was very
cheerful and happy while he was at home, and I had much difficulty in
keeping him quietly lying down to rest on the sofa. But, though he
protested while following my wishes, I saw as I sat watching him
while he slept that {324} the tired, grey shadows were growing deeper
upon his beautiful face, and that in sleep he had that absolute
stillness which one only finds in very healthy children or in the
absolutely exhausted sleep of adults.
I tried to induce him to see Sir Henry Thompson in town, but he would
not consent--saying that he could not waste a moment of his little
time at home, and that, though he did feel tired, that was all.
"I am not ill," he said, "only a little tired. Queenie, my wife, you
do not really think I am ill, do you?"
Knowing the one weakness of his brave heart, his anger and terror at
the idea of illness and of the far-off death that might divide us, I
answered only that I thought he was too tired, that nothing, not even
Ireland, was worth it, and I besought him now at last to give it all
up, and to hide away with me till a long rest, away from the turmoil
and contention, had saved him from the tiredness that would, I
feared, become real illness if he went on.
He lay watching me as I spoke, and, after a long pause, he answered,
"I am in your hands, Queenie, and you shall do with me what you will;
but you promised."
"You mean I promised that I would never make you less than-----"
"Less than your King," he interrupted, "and if I give in now I shall
be less than that. I would rather die than give in now--give in to
the howling of the English mob. But if you say it I will do it, and
you will never hear of it again from me, my love, my own wife." And
as I gazed down into the deep, smouldering eyes, where the little
flames always leapt out to meet mine, I knew I could not say it, I
knew that in the depths of those eyes was more than even my love
could fathom, that in the martyrdom of our love was to be our
reparation.
{325}
I sent him off bright and happy to the last meeting at Creggs. As he
drove off to the station and Dictator rounded the corner of the
house, he turned, as usual, to wave to me, and raised the white rose
in his buttonhole to his lips with an answering smile.
He sent me a telegram from London as he was starting from Euston
Station, one from Holyhead, and another from Dublin. For the Creggs
meeting he stayed with Mr. and Mrs. Mahoney, and his telegram from
their house was cheerful, though he said he was not feeling very well.
In the few lines I had from him here I knew he was in much pain again
from the rheumatism in his left arm. He always told me exactly how
he was feeling, as he knew that unless he did this I would have
suffered untold misery from apprehension while he was away. From
Creggs he telegraphed that he was about to speak, and it was
"terrible weather." I thought with satisfaction that I had put a
special change into a bag for him, and he had promised not to be
parted from it, so I knew he would find means of changing his things
directly after the meeting. His "good night" telegram did not
reassure me; he was in bad pain from the rheumatism, but hoped to get
it out with a Turkish bath on the way home.
He stayed in Dublin to see about the new paper which though "going"
well, was a perpetual trouble to him owing to the petty jealousies of
the staff. He crossed over from Ireland feeling very ill, with
violent pains all over him; he was implored to go to bed, and remain
there for a few days till he felt better, before starting for
England; but he only replied: "No, I want to get home; I must go
home!"
He telegraphed to me from Holyhead as usual, and {326} directly he
got to London, and before coming on to Brighton he had a Turkish bath
in London.
He seemed to me very weak when he got out of the buggy. I had sent a
closed fly to meet him, as well as the buggy, but as a forlorn hope,
for he would always be met by Dictator in the buggy at the station
I helped him into the house, and he sank into his own chair before
the blazing fire I had made, in spite of the warm weather, and said:
"Oh, my Wifie, it is good to be back. You may keep me a bit now!"
I was rather worried that he should have travelled immediately after
a Turkish bath, but he said it had done him much good. I did not
worry him then, but after he had eaten a fairly good dinner I told
him that I wanted him to have Sir Henry Thompson down the next day.
He laughed at the idea, but I was very much in earnest, and he said
he would see how he felt in the morning.
He told me that he had had to have his arm in a sling all the time he
was away, but that he thought he had become so much worse because the
change of clothes I had packed separately in a small bag (which he
had promised not to be parted from) in case he had to speak in the
rain, had been taken home in error by his host, and he had had to sit
in his wet things for some hours.
I was much vexed when I heard this, for I always made such a point of
his not keeping on damp things, and provided against it so carefully
when starting him off.
He said: "It is no matter, really, I think, and I won't go away again
till I'm really well this time. They were all so kind to me, but I
was feeling so ill that I had to point out that breakfast was made
for me, not I for breakfast, when I was expected to come down quickly
for it. {327} I do hate being away from home, especially when I feel
ill."
After dinner that night he sat before the fire trying to smoke a
cigar, but he did not care for it as usual, and presently threw it
away half smoked. He wanted to "feel" I was there, he said, so I sat
by his feet on the rug, and leant my head against his knee while he
stroked my hair. I stopped his hand because I feared the pain might
come on again, and held it while he smiled assent to my suggestion
that he should try to sleep a little. Grouse and Pincher, our setter
and terrier, had to come close by us, and, as they settled by his
feet, he said: "This is really a beautiful rest."
He dozed now and then, and I could see how wan and exhausted the
still, clear-cut face was, and I vowed to myself that he should not
again leave my care until his health was completely re-established.
Presently he asked for his stick and wanted to go into the other room
for a while, but he could not walk without my assistance, his legs
were too weak to support him. I was terribly worried now, but did
not let him see it, and only said: "Now you are up you must let me
help you to bed, so that you can get all the rest you need--and you
are not going to leave home again till you take me for a real
honeymoon in a country where the sun is strong enough to get the cold
out of your bones. We will get out of England this winter." And he
answered: "So we will, Wifie, directly I get that mortgage through."
Then, as we made our painful way up the stairs--for the last time--he
laughed at the Irish setter, who was trying to help him lift the
stick he used, and said: "Grouse thinks we are doing this for his own
special benefit." I undressed him, and got him into bed, and he
said: "Come {328} and lie down as quickly as you can, Wifie," but I
rubbed him with the firwood oil, and packed his arm in the wool he so
much believed in, before I lay down.
He dozed off, but woke shortly, and could not sleep again. He asked
me if I thought the champagne Dr. Kenny had made him take in Dublin
had made him worse, but I reassured him, for he had been so exhausted
he had required something, and no doubt Dr. Kenny had known that it
would do him good, although in a general way it was bad for him.
During the night I made him promise he would see a doctor in the
morning. Presently he said: "I would rather write to Thompson, as he
understands me." I said I would telegraph to him to come down, but
this excited my husband, who said, "No, the fee would be enormous at
this distance." I pointed out that his health was more precious than
the quarries and saw-mills at Arklow, on which he was just proposing
to spend some hundreds of pounds, but he put me off with, "We'll make
it all right in the morning, Wifie."
Finding he still did not sleep, I gently massaged his shoulders and
arms with oil, and wrapped him in wool again.
He talked a good deal, chiefly of the Irish peasantry, of their
privations and sufferings, the deadly poverty and the prevalence of
the very pain (rheumatism) from which he was suffering, in their case
aggravated by the damp, insanitary cabins in which they lived. And
he murmured under his breath: "There are no means at hand for
calculating the people who suffered in silence during those awful
years of famine." That was what J. H. Mohonagy said of the famine,
from '79 to '80. And he went on: "I wish I could do something for
them--the Irish {329} peasantry--they are worth helping. I have
always wished it, but there is so much between--and they 'suffer in
silence,' Wifie."
In the morning he felt better, and was much happier about himself.
He absolutely refused to let me send for Sir Henry Thompson, and,
sitting up in bed after a good breakfast, smoked a cigar while he
wrote notes for a speech. During his last absence I had bought a
large engraving of Lord Leighton's picture "Wedded," and, seeing this
hanging in the room, he made me bring it and put it up at the foot of
the bed for him to see. He was very much amused at the muscular
young couple in the picture, and waving his cigar at it said: "We are
a fine pair, Wifie; hang us up where I can look at us."
I had ready for him to sign an agreement to rent a house near
Merstham, Surrey, that we had arranged to take so that he could get
to London more quickly, and have a change from the sea. It was a
pretty little country house, and he had taken great interest in it.
I would not let him sign it now, or do any business, but he made me
read the agreement over to him, and said that part of our real
"honeymoon" should be spent there. He later insisted upon writing to
his solicitor (his brother-in-law, Mr. MacDermott) about a mortgage
he was raising on his estate, as he wished to have the matter
completed quickly. (It was not completed, owing to his death.)
On Sunday he was not so well, but insisted that what he had written
to Sir Henry Thompson was enough, as he would answer at once. My
persistence seemed to fret him so much that I desisted, and told him
that I had sent for a local doctor, as I could not bear to be without
advice about the pain.
He was a good patient in one way, scrupulously {330} following his
doctor's directions, but in another a very difficult patient, as he
was so very easily depressed about himself, all the fatalism that was
natural to him tending to overcome his immense desire for health. A
short talk with the doctor who saw him seemed to inspire him with
confidence, and he said he felt better.
That night (Sunday) he did not sleep, and this worried him a great
deal, as he had a superstition that if he did not sleep for two
consecutive nights he would die. I tried at first to reason him out
of this idea, but he said he had always "felt" this, and had never
before failed to sleep. I besought him to let me telegraph for Sir
Henry Thompson now, but he would not allow it, and became so feverish
at the idea that I did not press the point, though I determined to
consult the doctor in attendance about this in the morning. Towards
morning he became very feverish, and it was difficult to keep his
skin in the perspiration that he desired.
That morning Sir Henry Thompson telegraphed recommending me to call
in Dr. Willoughby Furner, but as Dr. Jowers was already in
attendance, and my husband liked him, there was no reason to change.
That day he was in much pain, afraid to move a finger because of it.
He heard from Sir Henry Thompson and, after I read the letter to him,
he said: "You see, sweetheart, I was right; Thompson says just what
Jowers does; there's no need to have him down."
After my husband's death I received the following letters from Sir
Henry Thompson:--
35 WIMPOLE STREET, W.,
_October_ 7, 1891.
DEAR MRS. PARNELL,--I am indeed shocked and distressed by the
news which the afternoon journals announce here to-day.
{331}
So little did I think when I received the letter written by my
old esteemed patient, dated October 3, that his end was so near.
With the feelings which this shock have aroused I cannot do
otherwise than ask permission to express my sincere sympathy and
condolence in the terrible and, I imagine, even to you who must
have known more of his health than anyone else, this sudden
affliction. The more so as I think you accompanied him once, if
not more than once, in his visits to me in Wimpole Street. Of
such expression of feeling towards you in this great trial you
will at least find multitudes ready to join, and may find some
slight consolation in the knowledge that sympathy with you will
be widely felt both here and in America.
Under present circumstances I cannot expect or wish to trouble
you to communicate with me. But I should be deeply interested in
knowing (for my private interest in him and in what befell him)
what followed the communication I made to you, whether you had
attendance (professional) on the spot before my letter arrived,
and what was said, or supposed, to have been the cause of the
fatal result, or any details which some friend could send me.
With renewed assurance of my deep sympathy,--Believe me, yours
truly, HENRY THOMPSON.
I think I must have received one of his very last letters, if not
his last.
35 WIMPOLE STREET, W.,
_Saturday afternoon, October_ 10, 1891.
DEAR MRS. PARNELL,--I am very glad you have written me, if the
doing so, or if the reply I may be able to send you, can in any
way help to mitigate any one of the numerous and infinitely
painful circumstances, or their influence, rather, on your mind
just now.
Such inquiries as those which suggest themselves to you are so
natural that it is impossible to repress them.
One never knows exactly what might have happened in any incident
of life had some other course been taken. But whatever course
may be supposed, it is useless to pursue it, {332} since only one
can ever be taken in this life, namely, that one which is chosen
by the individual in every case.
In reference to that asked by you, I feel very strongly that the
sad catastrophe was by no means the outcome of any one act--or
omission to act--and is far more truly indicated in that passage
in yours which describes him as saying to Dr. Jowers, "had he
only been able to follow my advice during the last few months,"
etc. There is the gist of the matter! I doubt whether anything
would have saved him when passing through London. A blow had
been struck--not so heavy--apparently a light one; but his
worn-out constitution, of late fearfully overtaxed by a spirit
too strong for its bodily tenement, had no power to resist, and
gave way, wholly unable to make any fight for itself against the
enemy. Hence what would in a fairly robust state of health have
been only a temporary conflict with a mild attack of
inflammation, developed into a severe form, overwhelming the
vital force with great rapidity and rendering all medical aid
powerless. I don't believe that any medicine, any treatment,
could have enabled his weakened condition to resist successfully.
He wanted no medicine to combat the complaint. He wanted
physical force, increased vitality to keep the attack at bay. I
have nothing to say of the prescription, except that it appears
to me quite appropriate under the circumstances and these I have
learnt from the public Press. Dr. Jowers is an experienced and
most capable man, and I think you may rest assured that he could
scarcely have been in safer hands.
If I were to regret anything it would be that he had not found a
spare half-hour to come and see me _some time ago_. Let me see
then how his strength was and whether he could not be fortified a
little for the wearing life he was leading. But then these are
acts of prudence and foresight which very few ardent men of
action ever find time to take. Nevertheless, it is then that
advice is really efficient. It is in nine times out of ten
sought too late; when it is indeed a matter of little consequence
what prescription is written, or, indeed, who has written it,
provided only that it does no mischief.
I should very much have liked to see him again at any time.
After the first visit I always knew my patient, and felt much
interested in him, although I never showed any {333} reference to
the fact, preferring to follow his own lead in reference to name,
a matter he refers to in the letter of the 3rd inst.
By the way, you know, of course, I received that letter only on
Monday morning, and lost not an instant in replying, telegraphing
that I was doing so.
You ask me to return it--"_his last letter_"--as I suspected. I
cannot tell you how I was valuing it, and that I intended to
place it among my most treasured souvenirs, of which I have many.
But I cannot refuse it to his suffering and heart-broken widow,
if she desires me to return it, and will do so. It consists only
of a few professional words, a patient to his doctor--nothing
more, and it is addressed by yourself--as I believe. It is not
here--I am writing at the club; but if you still ask me I cannot
hesitate an instant, and will send it to you.
Come and see me any time you are able, by and by. I will answer
any inquiries you may wish to make. I am at home (only let me
know a day beforehand, if you can) every morning from 9.30 to
12--not after, except by quite special arrangement.
With sincere sympathy, believe me, dear Mrs. Parnell, yours
truly, HENRY THOMPSON.
My husband was in great pain on the Monday, and seemed to feel a
sudden horror that he was being held down by some strong unseen
power, and asked my help--thank God, always my help--to fight against
it. He tried to get out of bed, although he was too weak to stand,
and I had to gently force him back, and cover him up, telling him how
dangerous a chill would be. He said: "Hold me tight, then, yourself,
till I can fight those others." Then he seemed to doze for a few
minutes, and when he opened his eyes again it was to ask me to lie
down beside him and put my hand in his, so that he could "feel" I was
there. I did so, and he lay still, quite happy again, and spoke of
the "sunny land" where we would go as soon as he was better. "We
will be so happy, Queenie; there are so many things happier than
politics."
{334}
He did not sleep that night, and the next morning (Tuesday) he was
very feverish, with a bright colour on his usually white face. I
wanted to send the dogs from the room, because I feared they would
disturb him, but he opened his eyes and said: "Not Grouse; let old
Grouse stay, I like him there."
His doctor said that for a day or two we could not look for much
improvement. After his medicine that afternoon he lay quietly with
his eyes closed, just smiling if I touched him. The doctor came in
again, but there was no change, and he left promising to call early
the next morning. During the evening my husband seemed to doze, and,
listening intently, I heard him mutter "the Conservative Party."
Late in the evening he suddenly opened his eyes and said: "Kiss me,
sweet Wifie, and I will try to sleep a little." I lay down by his
side, and kissed the burning lips he pressed to mine for the last
time. The fire of them, fierce beyond any I had ever felt, even in
his most loving moods, startled me, and as I slipped my hand from
under his head he gave a little sigh and became unconscious. The
doctor came at once, but no remedies prevailed against this sudden
failure of the heart's action, and my husband died without regaining
consciousness, before his last kiss was cold on my lips.
There is little more to add. All that last night I sat by my husband
watching and listening for the look and the word he would never give
me again. All that night I whispered to him to speak to me, and I
fancied that he moved, and that the fools who said he was dead did
not really know. He had never failed to answer my every look and
word before. His face was so peaceful; so well, all the tiredness
had gone from it now. I would not open {335} the door because I
feared to disturb him--he had always liked us to be alone. And the
rain and the wind swept about the house as though the whole world
shared my desolation.
He did not make any "dying speech," or refer in any way at the last
to his "Colleagues and the Irish people," as was at the time
erroneously reported. I was too broken then and too indifferent to
what any sensation-lovers put about to contradict this story, but, as
I am now giving to the world the absolutely true account of the
Parnell whom I knew and loved, I am able to state that he was
incapable of an affectation so complete. The last words Parnell
spoke were given to the wife who had never failed him, to the love
that was stronger than death--"Kiss me, sweet Wifie, and I will try
to sleep a little."
[1] Of the Divorce Case.
[2] We had an idea of renting a house in Wales.
{337}
INDEX
"AGONY" column advertisements, 35
Aldershot, a review at, 7
Allen, Fenian leader, 52
Arklow, quarries at, 213
Arms Bill, the, introduction of, 50
Arrears Bill, a promised, 165
becomes law, 180
introduction of, 171
Astronomy, Parnell's study of, 303
"Aunt Ben" (_see_ Mrs. Benjamin Wood)
Austin, Alfred, friendship with, 37
Avondale, Parnell's estates at, 51
Parnell's love of, 209
BADER, DR., 43, 68
Baily, L. R., 189 (note)
Balfour, Rt. Hon. A. J., 194
Ballina, Parnell's reception at, 321
Ballot Act, the, passing of, 52
Barker, Edgar, 35
Barlow, Captain, 147
Barrett-Lennard, Lady, 10, 14, 16, 19
Sir Thomas, 6, 14, 31
Beaufort Gardens, 36
Belhus, visits to, 6, 16
Bennington Park, Hertfordshire, 24
Biggar, J. G., 74
obstructs Parliamentary business, 53
warrant for arrest of, 118
Birling Gap, visits to, 239
Bognor, visit to, 247
Book-keeping, Parnell's studies in, 100
Boulogne, Parnell meets O'Brien at, 297
Bourke, Walter, murder of, 179
Boycott, principle enunciated, 74
Brennan, Thomas, 119
Brighton, a day on the downs at, 30 _et seq._
life at, 28
Brighton, Local Government Bill discussed at, 223
Mrs. O'Shea's house at, 273
railway station rebuilt, 100
visits to, 229
Brompton Oratory, 37
Bryson, Phyllis, 313, 315, 316
Burke, Mr., murder of, 168
Butt, Isaac, 50, 53
Butt, Mr. Justice, 300
Buxton, Mrs. Sydney, 265
CALASHER, MR., 35
Campbell, Mr. Parnell's secretary, 246
Campbell-Bannerman, Sir Henry, accepts Irish Secretaryship, 182
enters the Cabinet, 197
Canada, Parnell's reception in, 54
Carlingford, Lord, opposes Home Rule, 197
Carnarvon, Lord, becomes Lord Lieutenant, 186
meets Parnell, 187
resignation of, 193, 196
Carr, Dr., Bishop of Galway, 291
Cavendish, Lord Frederick, becomes Chief Secretary, 166
murder of, 168
Chamberlain, Joseph, 158, 184
and Healy's speech, 291
and the Chief Secretaryship, 166
opposes coercion, 185
proposes National Board for Ireland, 185, 197 (note)
resignation of, 197
Childers, Mr., supports Home Rule, 197
Churchill, Lord Randolph, 184
Clare, Capt. O'Shea returned for, 56
Clive, Colonel, 13
Coercion Bill, the, introduced, 91
memorandum on, from Parnell to Gladstone, 178
Collings, Jesse, 196
Colthurst, Col., 58
Committee Room Fifteen, momentous meeting in, 286
Compensation for Disturbances Bill, 73
Congleton, Lord, 51
Constable and Mrs. Wood, 2
Corbett, Mr., 234
Cork, banquet at, in honour of Parnell, 221
Cowper, Lord, resignation of, 164
Creggs, Parnell goes to his last meeting at, 325
Crimes Bill, becomes law, 180
introduced by Sir W. Harcourt, 171
negotiations on, 199
second reading of, 174
Cripps, Edward, 312, 314
DALLAS, MR., 18
Dasent, Sir George, 18
Davitt, Michael, 53, 54, 119
quarrels with Parnell, 210
release of, 168
Derby, Lord, opposes Home Rule, 197
Devoy, John, 53, 54
Dickinson, Emily, 261 (note), 319
"Dictator," horse named, 207, 232, 313, 314, 339
Dilke, Sir Charles, 166
defeated at General Election, 197
opposes coercion, 185
Dillon, John, arrest of, 118
quarrels with Parnell, 210
sails for New York, 54
"Disturbances Bill," debate on, 78 _et seq._
Dublin, freedom of, presented to Parnell, 210
Land League Convention at, 109
Parnell defeated in, 52
Parnell's meeting at, 293
Duffy, Sir Charles Gavan, 187
Dyke, Sir W. Hart, resigns, 196
EASTBOURNE, holiday at, 238 _et seq._
Edinburgh, freedom of, presented to Parnell, 269
Egan, Patrick, 119
Eighty Club, ovation for Parnell at 267
Parnell's speech at, 244
Eltham, a snowy Christmas at, 223, 224
fifth of November celebrations at, 75
life at, 30, 43 _et seq._, 68 _et seq._, 223, 228
new room built at, 230
Parnell at, 69, 79, 83, 223, 228
Errington, Mr., 181
Eversley, Lord (_see_ Lefevre, Shaw)
Evictions in Ireland, 81
Gladstone on, 171
Explosives Bill, introduction of, 181
FARWELL, GEORGE (Lord Justice), 9
Fenian movement, the, 52
Finden, the brothers, 2
Fitzgerald, Sir Seymour, 19
Ford, Patrick, starts dynamite crusade against England, 181
Forster, W. E., and the Land League, 74
attacks Parnell, 219
becomes "disagreeable," 124
Coercion Bill of, 91
denounces the Cabinet, 165
introduces "Disturbances Bill," 78
resignation of, 164
suggests Parnell's arrest, 110
Franchise Bill, 184
_Freeman's Journal_, announcement as to Parnell's intentions in, 288
letter from Timothy Harrington to, 291
GAFFNEY, SUSAN, and "first aid," 210
Galway, Bishop of, 291
O'Shea returned for, 291
Geston, Thomas, 119
Gill, Mr., 270 (note)
Gimson, Dr., 26
Gladstone Herbert (Lord), 187, 194
Gladstone, Rt. Hon. W. E., 158
a tribute to Parnell, 93
a yachting expedition, 188
action after divorce case, 286
an elusive speech of, 189
and Capt. O'Shea, 68
and evictions, 171
and Parnell's Home Rule draft, 187
and the Coercion Bill, 91
announces arrest of Parnell, 117
approaches Tory Party on Home Rule, 194
forms a Ministry, 50, 54
interviews Mrs. O'Shea, 172
introduces his Land Bill, 109
letter to Morley on overthrow of Parnell, 288
on Parnell's character, 220
perfect manners of, 199
promises an Arrears Bill, 165
resignation of, 186
speech on "Disturbances Bill," 79
summarizes position between Parnell and himself, 195
Glasnevin Cemetery, Parnell's grave in, 205
Glazenwood, life at, 3
Graham, Robert Bontine Cunninghame, 15
Graham, Robert Cunninghame, 15, 18
Grantley-Barkley, the Hon., 9
Granville, Lord, 185
supports Home Rule, 197
Greenwich Observatory, visits to, 109
Grosse, Rev. Thomas, author and, 4
Grosvenor, Lord Richard, 184, 188
and Capt. O'Shea's candidature for Liverpool, 189 (note), 291
asks for Home Rule draft, 186
"Grouse," dog named, 234, 327, 334
Gull, Sir William, 39
HARCOURT, SIR W., introduces Crimes Bill, 171
introduces Explosives Bill, 181
supports Home Rule, 197
Harrington, Timothy, and O'Shea's candidature, 291
Hartington, Lord, 54
opposes Home Rule, 188, 197
Hastings, visits to, 41, 228
Hatherley, Lord Chancellor, 28, 38
Hawarden, Parnell's visit to, 202
Healy, Timothy, attacks Capt. O'Shea, 291
returned for Monaghan, 221
State trial of, 83
warrant issued for arrest of, 118
Herne Bay, a day at, 249
Herschell, Lord, enters the Cabinet, 197
Hertfordshire, social customs in, 24 _et seq._
Hicks-Beach, Sir Michael, becomes Chief Secretary, 186
Hinkson, Mrs. (_see_ Tynan, Katharine)
Hobson, Mr., 27
Holbrook Hall, honeymoon at, 19
Home Office, explosion of bomb at, 226
Home Rule Bill, the first, 197 _et seq._
Home Rule League, the formation of, 52
Home Rule scheme submitted to Gladstone, 182
Hood, Marion, actress, 59
Hook, Dean, 39
Hozier, Mr. (Sir H.) 12, 13
Hurley, Father Walter, 294
IRELAND, evictions in, 81
fundamental failure in English government of, 79
how news of Parnell's arrest was received in, 119
State trials in, 79 _et seq._
_Irish Daily Independent_ founded by Parnell, 323
Irish Party, the, Parnell and, 50 _et seq._
Parnell elected chairman of, 57
treachery of, after divorce case, 287
_Irish World_, Patrick Ford's crusade in, 199 (note), 181
JENNER, SIR WILLIAM, 39, 40
Jowers, Dr., 330, 332
KENNY, DR., 122, 289, 293, 294, 328
Kent, hop-pickers' reception of Parnell in, 70
Kerley, Frederick, serves Parnell with Judge's Order, 299
Kerr, Mr., Parnell's agent, 93, 261
Kettle, A. J., 118
Kilkenny, a vacancy in, 293
Healy's speech at, 291
Kilmainham Gaol, Parnell in, 99, 119 _et seq._
Kilmainham Treaty, the, 157 _et seq._
Kimberley, Lord, supports Home Rule, 197
LABOURERS' COMMITTEE, the, 227
Ladies' Land League, 119, 167, 175
Land Bill, Gladstone's, 197
introduction of, 109
Land League, the, amazing growth of, 78
formation of, 53
Forster and, 74
"three F's of," 55
Land Purchase Bill, 185
Landseer, Edwin, 2
Lane, Charles, 28
Larkin, Fenian leader, 52
Lefevre, Shaw, defeated at General Election, 197
opposed to coercion, 180, 185
refuses Irish Secretaryship, 182
Lewes, Mr., 18
Lewis, Sir George, and divorce case, 280
and the "Parnell letters," 259, 261, 262
Liberal Government in 1885, 185
Lime thrown in Parnell's face, 297
Liverpool, Capt. O'Shea's candidature for, 189 (note)
Lockwood, Sir Frank, 268, 280, 284
London remembrances, 250 _et seq._
Lords, House of, and the Arrears Bill, 180
Lytton, Lord, 37
MACCORMACK, DR., BISHOP OF GALWAY, 291
MacDermott, Mr., 329
Madrid, Pigott's suicide in, 265
Manchester, the Fenian movement in, 52
Manning, Cardinal, and O'Shea's divorce, 290 et seq.
opposes Mr. Errington's mission, 181
Mary (parlourmaid), 86, 87, 127
McCarthy, Justin, 58, 59, 187
and Kilmainham Treaty, 159
leader of Irish Party, 298 (note)
Meath, Parnell M.P. for, 52
Meredith, George, reminiscences of, 43
Michell, Admiral, 1
Michell, Caroline, 1
Michell, Maria, 1
Mohonagy, J. H., 328
Monaghan, election at, 221
Morley, John (Lord), 16, 17, 185 (note)
enters the Cabinet, 197
Parnell and, 202
Mundella, Mr., enters the Cabinet, 197
NATIONAL LEAGUE founded, 211, 212
National Liberal Club, Parnell elected a life member of, 267
Parnell's speech at, 268
Nationalism, Parnell's conception of, 303
Niton, a visit to, 39-40
Nolan, Colonel, 58
No Rent manifesto, issue of the, 119
Northbrook, Lord, opposes Home Rule, 197
O'BRIEN, Fenian leader, 52
O'Brien, William, arrest of, 118
chats with Parnell, 244
meets Parnell at Boulogne, 297
O'Connell, Daniel, 89
O'Connor, Arthur, 118
O'Gorman Mahon, The, 49, 56, 106
O'Hart and Civil List pension, 181
O'Kelly, arrest of, 118
deserts Parnell, 298
O'Shea, Capt. ("Willie"), 18
a forgotten appointment, 49
an accident to, 14
and Kilmainham Treaty, 159-160
and Land League's policy, 80
and Mid-Armagh election, 188
and Phoenix Park murders, 169
and "Romeo," 34-5
and the Irish Party, 188-9 (note)
as actor, 7
candidate for Liverpool, 189 (note)
challenges Parnell to fight a duel, 106
desire for Under-Secretaryship, 198 (note), 199
divorce case against Mrs. O'Shea, 280 _et seq._
enters 18th Hussars, 11 (note)
enters political life, 49
financial difficulties of, [25 _et seq._, 34 _et seq._
his ancestry, 11
illness of, and operation on, 35
leaves his regiment, 11 (note), 19
love of social life, 24, 37
marriage of, 18
returned for Parliament, 56
strained relations with his wife, 104, 253, 290
stud-farming, 24
takes Parnell's letter to Forster, 164
week-end visits to Eltham, 48
O'Shea, Carmen, birth of, 38
George Meredith and, 46
O'Shea, Comtesse, 11 (note), 20, 21 _et seq._, 38
O'Shea, Gerard, 27
O'Shea, Henry, 11 (note)
pencil portrait of Parnell, 99
O'Shea, John, 11 (note), 20
O'Shea, Katharine, 29
a dinner to Parnell, 59
a prized pocket-book, 233
an afternoon with George Meredith, 44
and Longfellow, 6
as companion to "Aunt Ben," 43
as intermediary between Government and Parnell, 91, 95, 172,
174, 178 _et seq._
assists at an operation, 35
astronomical studies, 108
birth of Parnell's child, 120, 146
children of, 27, 37, 38, 46
death of "Aunt Ben," 272
death of Parnell's child, 155
dinner parties in London, 57 _et seq._
dislike of society, 24, 37, 48
early life of, 3 _et seq._
family life, 5 _et seq._
first letter from Parnell, 59
first literary success, 5
first meeting with Parnell, 58
friction with Capt. O'Shea, 104, 253, 290
her love of music, 6
her name abused by anti-Parnellites, 299
hides Parnell at Eltham, 84
instructed in the Catholic religion, 38
interview with Gladstone on Parnell's feelings, 220
interviews Mr. Soames, 265
interviews Sir G. Lewis, 259, 262, 263
intimate knowledge of Parnell's character, 301 _et seq._
leaves Eltham, 273
letter from Parnell formulating Irish policy, 190
letters from Capt. O'Shea, 290
London remembrances, 250 _et seq._
marries Capt. O'Shea, 18
marries Parnell, 314
meets Capt. O'Shea, 10 _et seq._
nurses Parnell, 69
overstrained nerves, 214
parliamentary associations, 91
refuses to fight divorce case, 282
reminiscences of Gladstone, 174 _et seq._
removes to Brighton, 273
"Romeo" and, 34-5
seaside holidays, 338 _et seq._
served with petition in divorce case, 280
wedding presents, 19, 20, 31
with Parnell at his death, 334
O'Shea, Mary, 11 (note), 20, 21 _et seq._, 38, 156
O'Shea, Norah, 46
O'Shea, Thaddeus, 11 (note)
O'Shea, William, 11 (note)
"Owen Meredith" (_see_ Lytton, Lord)
PARIS, a visit to, 21
Parliament, a long sitting of, 91
Parnell, Anna, 119
and the Ladies' Land League, 167
burned in effigy, 76
Parnell, Charles Stewart, a love avowal by, 33
a poem by, 243
a warrant for his arrest, 115
aim of his political life, 310
and Cecil Rhodes, 270 (note)
and death of his sister Fanny, 204
and O'Shea's candidature, 189 (note)
and the Irish Party, 50 _et seq._, 284
arrested for sedition, 116
as autocrat, 306
assaying work of, 101
astronomical studies of, 108
at Brighton, 98, 100, 223, 229, 273
at Eltham, 69, 79, 83, 223, 228
attends banquet at Cork, 221
attends nephew's funeral on parole, 153 _et seq._
birth of his child, 120
buys dogs for Mrs. O'Shea, 234, 235
complex character of, 304
conducts Healy's election, 221
consults Sir Henry Thompson, 245
death of his daughter, 155
death of his father, 51
deserted by O'Kelly, 298
dictator in the Commons, 193
discusses Local Government Bill with Capt. O'Shea, 223
dislike of green bindings, 229
dislike of social life, 307
distrust of Gladstone, 110 (note), 173
elected life member of National Liberal Club, 267
entrusts political correspondence to Mrs. O'Shea, 85
family affection of, 306
fatalism of, 170
founds _Irish Daily Independent_, 323
freedom of City of Dublin presented to, 210
freedom of City of Edinburgh for, 269
general appearance of, 301 _et seq._
generosity of, 310
great meeting at Rotunda, Dublin, 293
hatred of oppression, 305
his ancestry, 51
his fear of death, 225, 305
his hatred of England, 51, 81
his love of animals, 305
hobbies and interests of, 99 _et seq._
holiday at Eastbourne, 238
Home Rule scheme submitted to Gladstone, 182
illness of, 243
in danger, 204 et seq.
interest in the working classes, 216, 307
interviews newspaper men after his marriage, 316
interviews Sir Geo. Lewis, 261
Irish subscribe to pay off mortgages on his estates, 290 (note)
joins Home Rule League, 52
Kilmainhain days and letters, 119 _et seq._, 139 _et seq._
last hours and death of, 319, 333 _et seq._
learns of Phoenix Park murders, 168
leaves for Ireland, 320
letter to his mother, 290
letters in invisible ink, 125, 132, 133
letters of congratulation (and otherwise) on his marriage, 318
love of white roses, 206
makes bricks, 317
makes model ships, 278
manifesto to people of Ireland, 284, 286
marries Mrs. O'Shea, 314
meets Katharine Tynan, 266
meets Lord Carnarvon, 187
meets O'Brien at Boulogne, 297
modesty of, 304
moral standard of, 309
nightmares and sleep-walking, 205-6
nominates Vincent Scully for Kilkenny, 296
on trial for conspiracy, 79
opens Home Rule campaign, 188
organizes for General Election, 184
ovation in Parliament after trial, 265
ovations at Eighty Club and St. James's Hall, 267
picks wild flowers, 207
President of Home Rule Confederation, 53
President of the Land League, 53
puts Tories in power, 186
quarrying at Arklow, 213
reads forged letters in the _Times_, 257
reads report of his assassination, 218
recognized at Pevensey, 240
refuses to defend divorce case, 280, 281
release of, 165
religious beliefs of, 309
replies to Forster's attack, 219
retakes offices of _United Ireland_, 295-6
return home and beginning of last illness, 323
sails for New York, 54
sees his dying child, 154, 155
sends horses to Eltham, 231
served with Judge's Order, 299
shaves his beard, 98
shooting in Ireland, 277
shooting practice of, 207
speech at Eighty Club, 244
speech at National Liberal Club, 268
speech on first Home Rule Bill, 200
stands for Parliament, 52
superstitious nature of, 247, 308
takes house at Brockley, 253
takes house in Regent's Park, 254
takes house near Beachy Head, 241
telegraphic code with Mrs. O'Shea, 246
temper of, 310
threats against, 214
unselfishness of, 311
views on proposed visit of Prince of Wales, 236
visits "Aunt Ben," 89
visits Gladstone, 202
visits Morley, 202
wedding presents, 319
Wexford speech of, 110
with Mrs. O'Shea at Hastings, 228
Parnell, Fanny, 52
death of, 204
Parnell, Mrs. Delia, 51, 100, 261 (note), 319
Parnell, John, 306
Parnell, Sir John, 51
Parnell, Thomas, poet, 51
Parnell Commission, the, 256 _et seq._
Patcham, life at, 28
Pevensey, Parnell recognized at, 240
Phoenix park murders, 166, 168 _et seq._
Pigott, suicide of, 265
"Pincher," dog named, 235
Power, Richard, 58
"President," Parnell's horse, 231, 239
"Preston, Clement," 253
Pym, H., 290, 322
QUINLAN, CATHERINE, 11 (note)
(_see also_ O'Shea, Comtesse)
Quinlan, Edward, 11 (note)
Quinn, J. P., arrest of, 118
"RANGER," dog named, 235
Redistribution of Seats Bill, 184
Redmond, William, letter from Parnell to, 289
Redmond's Land Bill, 164
Rhodes, Cecil, Parnell's letter to,
on Home Rule, 270 (note)
Ripon, Lord, supports Home Rule, 197
Rivenhall, life at, 3 _et seq._, 18
visitors at, 8, 26
"Romeo," 34, 35
Rosebery, Lord, supports Home Rule, 197
Russell, Sir Charles, 259
a reception to Parnell, 266
ST. JAMES'S HALL, ovation for Parnell at, 267
St. Peter's, Cornhill, 1
Salisbury, Lord, diplomatic statement about Ireland, 188
first Ministry of, 186
Scully, Vincent, nominated for Kilkenny, 296
Selby, stud-groom of Capt. O'Shea, 28, 36
Sexton, Mr., arrest of, 118
Shaw, William, and the Irish Parliamentary Party, 50, 57
Sheridan, Charles, and Mrs. Wood, 2
Sleeplessness, a specific for, 40
Sligo, hostility of, to Parnell, 321
Smart, Capt. Hawley, 27
Soames, Mr., interview with, 265
Spain, Capt. and Mrs. O'Shea in, 24
Capt. O'Shea's managerial post in, 47
Spencer, Lord, and Phoenix Park murders, 181
appointed Lord-Lieutenant, 166
shakes hands with Parnell, 268
supports Home Rule, 197
Stalbridge, Lord (_see_ Grosvenor, Lord Richard)
Stanley, Dean, 39
"State trials" in Ireland, 79 _et seq._
Stead, Mr., O'Shea and, 290
Steele, Lt.-Col., 8
Steele, Mrs., 18, 58, 59, 60, 106
Steele, Sir Thomas, 113
Stephens, T. E., retirement of, 189 (note)
Stephens, William, Dean of Winchester, 39
Stewart, Commodore Charles, 51
Steyning, Parnell's marriage at, 312
Sussex, Duke of, 1
TELEGRAPHIC CODE, Parnell's, 246
Thomson, Mrs., 204
Thompson, Sir Henry, consulted by Parnell, 245
letters to Mrs. Parnell, 330, 331
treats Parnell for nervous breakdown, 206
"Three acres and a cow," 196
_Times_, the, "Parnell letters" in, 257
Tintern, Mr., and Capt. O'Shea, 67
"Tory," Parnell's horse, 212
Trevelyan, Mr., ceases to be Irish Secretary, 182
resignation of, 197
Trollope, Anthony, 8
Tynan, Katharine, on Parnell's Dublin meeting, 293
Parnell's meeting with, 266
_United Ireland_, and proposed visit of Prince of Wales, 236
publishes No Rent manifesto, 119
seized by anti-Parnellites, 295
United States, Parnell in the, 54
VAUGHAN, MRS., 29
Ventnor, a visit to, 40
Vincent, Sir Howard, and police protection for Parnell, 217
WALES, Prince of, a proposed visit to Ireland, 236
Wallace, Corporal, murder of, 179
Weguelin, Christopher, 47
Weston, Sir Thomas Sutton, 3
Werford speech, Parnell's, 110
Whitbread, Judge, 43
Wilkinson, Rev. Mr., 43
Wonersh Lodge, Eltham, 47
Wontner, Mr., and the costs of divorce case, 322
Wood, Anna, 4, 7, 15, 37
marriage of, 8
Wood, Benjamin, death of, 42
marriage of, 1
Wood, Charlie, 5
Wood, Clarissa, 6
Wood, Emma, 6
Wood, Evelyn, 4 _et seq._, 17
Wood, Frank, 6, 7, 10, 26
Wood, Fred, death of, 3, 6
Wood, Katharine (see O'Shea, Katharine)
Wood, Lady, 1 _et seq._, 27
Wood, Maria (Pollie), 6
Wood, Mrs. Benjamin ("Aunt Ben"), 1, 18, 27, 28, 31, 39, 40,
41 _et seq._, 68
and carol singers, 224
and George Meredith, 43 _et seq._
and O'Connell, 89
and Parnell, 89
death of, 43, 272
Wood, Sir Matthew, 1
Wood, Sir Matthew (grandson of preceding), 59
Wood, Sir John Page, 1
appointed rector of St. Peter's, Cornhill, 1 _et seq._
becomes vicar of Cressing, 2
birth of a son, 2
death of, 17
political views of, 3
YATES, Mrs. A., 27
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End of Project Gutenberg's Charles Stewart Parnell, by Katharine O'Shea