Uprise of Parnell (1879)

Chapter IV

Uprise of Parnell (1875-8)

Parnell’s uprise in 1875 came a year after Biggar’s election for Cavan, He was an unlooked-for meteor in the Irish sky. “Sent down” from Magdalen College, Cambridge, the cause of his rustication is in dispute. Davitt in his Fall of Feudalism (page 207), published in 1904, attributes it to a brawl. Parnell’s sister, Emily (Mrs. Dickinson), was not satisfied with this, and years after her brother’s death told a different story. In a book called A Patriot’s Mistake (the Irish Times styled it “A Patriot’s Sister’s Mistake”) she treats the rustication as the most impressive incident of his career. From the family point of view, therefore, her account cannot be ignored.

It says:

“Parnell had been sent to Cambridge. During his sojourn at the University a very unhappy event occurred.

He had reached his 19th year. The first tragedy of his life came - a tragedy in which, alas, another suffered, though released by the hand of death from sharing the lifelong remorse which was his heritage.

Boating was as popular then as now on the Cam, and Charles was one of the most enthusiastic oarsmen on the river, spending nearly all his spare time in flannels. One of the best cultivated of sober English homesteads lay a couple of miles down the river, sloping to its bank. It was frequently passed and re-passed by the various boat clubs. In the old fruit garden nearest the river might be seen, on several days of the week, a young girl, not more than 16, of remarkable loveliness, engaged, basket in hand, in picking fruit. Charles had no sooner seen her than he resolved to make her acquaintance. Daisy, on her part, though apparently more intent on the plum and pear trees than ever, was for the first time blissfully aware that the dark-haired young gentleman with the inscrutable eyes, whom she had often noticed on the river, preferred gazing at her to practising his stroke. Her knowledge of the world was very small. She had no mother. Little wonder, then, that it was with something of the wonder and the thrill of a first emotion that she received the unspoken homage of a handsome youth, whom she knew to be a member of the neighbouring University, and far above her station in life.

An acquaintance was quickly made by means of a fortunate (sic) accident to Charles’s oar, and the borrowing of some cord, and he arranged to meet Daisy on future evenings, charging her to strict secrecy in fear of his College authorities. The young girl willingly promised. The acquaintance ripened into a deep and trusting affection on the girl’s part, and an equally strong, though less pure and unselfish passion on the boy’s part. He knew it was impossible to marry Daisy, lovely and innocent though she was, as he was under age and a ward of Chancery… . They were lovers and happy in each other’s society, until their paradise was spoiled by an impulse of young passion, and, as is usually the case, the ebb-tide, on one side at least, set in from that hour. A coldness and estrangement gradually grew between them, and an increasing wretchedness on the girl’s part, who was sensitive and inexperienced. Charles was with her as frequently as ever. Though their meetings had lost their first joy, he, to do him justice, had no idea of the misery the poor girl suffered, or that she contemplated self-destruction. He was rudely awakened. One morning, on coming along the river bank, near the place where Daisy and he had first met, he caught the sound of many frightened voices. On turning a bend in the path he suddenly came on a group which haunted him for years after. A small crowd of villagers was gathered round a figure that had just been dragged from the river, now swollen with heavy rain. A woman held the head that was covered with dark masses of golden hair, and the slender, dripping form was that of a young girl. Pushing aside the crowd with a gasp of horror, Charles recognized the body of “his little wife,” as he had called Daisy. She was quite dead, and, as one of the bystanders said, must have been in the water for many hours. It was a sad ending to a bright young life, and if ever a man (for he ceased to be a boy from that hour) understood the meaning of remorse, of the “worm that dieth not and the fire that is not quenched,” it was Charles as he gazed at the lifeless form that had contained so pure and loving a soul.

His wild looks and frenzied exclamations as he knelt beside the body. excited the curiosity of the bystanders. None of them knew him as an acquaintance of Daisy’s, so loyally had she kept her promise, and they had never been seen together in the village.

An inquest was held, at which he was present as a witness. While shielding the girl’s name from slander, he admitted having a great admiration and friendship for her, and the shock which her death gave him.

The usual verdict of” Suicide while temporarily insane “was pronounced. She was buried in the village. For Charles a lifelong punishment began.

Various versions of his acquaintance with the dead girl had come to the knowledge of the heads of his college, and Charles’s name was formally removed from the books of his university.

He reaped the consequences of his youthful folly and selfishness, and was the frequent victim of violent nervous attacks. In these would appear before him, in the dead of the night, standing at the foot of his bed, the dripping white-clad form, with locks like a cataract of golden rain, which he had seen that morning on the river bank.

The cause of these attacks, and of his frequent fits of nervous depression, was unknown to any of his family until several years after, when an accident revealed them.”

Parnell’s youth explains his manhood. When his Greek professor at Cambridge corrected him for a mistranslation he replied. “You’re wrong.” The tutor retorted, “Well, let’s look at’ Liddell and Scott’” (the Greek standard lexicon). That, of course, confirmed the tutor, but Parnell remarked, “You must have got hold of a wrong edition!”

When serving as Ensign with the Wicklow Militia, he captained a team of cricketers in the Phoenix Park. The umpire gave one of his men “out,” whereupon Parnell led his eleven off the field.

In 1874, being High Sheriff of Wicklow (his native county), Parnell was unable to stand, but put up his brother John, who was beaten. In 1875, Parnell was defeated in Co. Dublin, owing to the high franchise. A Nationalist commented, “We had a bad candidate who could not speak.” Later in that year, on the death of John Martin, the “bad candidate” was elected for Meath.

He took his seat in the House on the day Biggar delivered his four-hours’ speech, and placed himself under Joe’s tuition. Together they carried on the fight known first as the “Biggar and Parnell” policy, next as the “Parnell and Biggar ” policy, and lastly as the “Active” policy. Parnell made his first speech four days after Biggar’s monologue.

At Leeds later in that year, after a Convention there, I saw Parnell taking down instructions meekly from Biggar in a notebook, to guide him as to the methods to be adopted next day at Westminster. It was a Sunday night, and Biggar was detained by business with his Leeds agent. Joe speculated in lard and the market was drooping. I urged him to “cut his loss,” but he replied, “My father was ever a patient holder.”

In 1876, Butt attacked them in a protest against” obstruction.” Letters appeared in the Freeman condemning their practices signed by Andrew Kettle, a Dublin farmer (father to T. M. Kettle, M.P., killed in the Great War). The only organs which favoured the obstructives were the Nation and Weekly News, published by T. D. Sullivan. A cartoon in the Weekly News depicted a huge “butt” pouring water into a “kettle” with the letterpress: “This is a very ‘andy kettle!”

Early in 1877 Richard Pigott stated that Parnell suspected some criticisms upon him in the Newcastle Chronicle were written or inspired by A. M. Sullivan, and I wrote my brother:

Newcastle-on-Tyne,

8th May, ‘77.

“I had a letter from Joe Cowen, M.P., this morning, which I will hold in reserve to see what Richard Pigott says next week. Cowen concludes by saying (after denying that A. M. Sullivan wrote his paragraphs), “It is most unfortunate that Irishmen should be so prone to create differences among themselves. If ever there was a people or a cause that required unity, it is the Irish.”

As an explanation of the feud, or the sharp words, or the cloud between Parnell, Biggar, and A. M. Sullivan, Parnell says … that he believes it is A.M. who instigated Lucy’s attacks upon them in Mayfair, and even supplied him with material for the purpose. I doubt this, but so far as I have heard of Parnell, I think he would make such a statement cautiously, and not unless he had grounds for It. Perhaps Sullivan could better realize the situation If Pigott were in the House and he saw Parnell and Biggar on terms of friendship with him.”

F. H. O’Donnell was a constant correspondent of mine at this period, and was very anxious to be restored to Parliament. He had been elected for Galway in 1874 but was unseated by Judge Lawson for issuing against his opponent Joyce, a placard headed “Vote for Joyce and Keogh.” Dillon, who was not in the House, in a letter to the Freeman, disparaged him as a penniless adventurer.

I wrote my brother:

Newcastle-on-Tyne,

28*th May, ‘77

“*In the event of a vacancy in Co. Waterford, the Bishop and priests at Dungarvan Conference are in favour of O’Donnell. He is not “penniless.” nor is he an “adventurer” except in the sense that we are all adventurers (which to be sure we are). I believe he would make a valuable member of Parliament. Why did not his critics try in 1874 to prevent him getting in for Galway?

O’Donnell told me that he withdrew his address for Tipperary on the advice of Pat Egan and T.D.S., and I should say he would have been a fool if he hadn’t. Would it not have been an unsagacious proceeding of a future candidate, who might want the help of the Freeman before long, to get it into a comer? All the grand speeches of Butt in Parliament have not as yet made a single convert, and the despised “Confederation of Great Britain” has made a dozen. If we were to stop working to-morrow Butt’s English supporters would thin down to about two, who support him on principle.

Owing to the disgust which many people feel at the stagnation of political affairs in Ireland through the supineness of the Home Rule League and its parliamentary representatives, I should regard it as natural, knowing the stuff our people are made of, if they pitched it to the devil.”

Soon, a vacancy occurred in the borough of Dungarvan, and I wrote O’Donnell that he would be certain of success if he stood. This he did, and for the next two years was very useful in the House of Commons

Newcastle-on-Tyne,

1*st August, ‘77.

“The struggle in the House of Commons on the South African Bill should make Dungarvan proud of O’Donnell. That Gray is with the obstructives means that the avenue of the Freeman’s Journal is closed to Butt and other half-hearts, and that the Freeman *is muzzled. Gray’s support is invaluable.”

Butt was besought in vain to tolerate the “active” members. Barry, after two years’ bickering, determined to call a convention of delegates of the Branches of the Home Rule Confederation of Great Britain. The exiles of Erin were resolved to depose Butt from the presidency and to set Parnell in his place. They met at Liverpool in August, 1877.

The Convention proved to be one of the most representative of exiled Nationalists ever held till then, Butt’s declaration of policy was eagerly awaited. Features of the Convention, to which I was appointed a delegate, are described in a letter to my brother.

Newcastle-on-Tyne,

29th *August, ‘77.

“*I got back from the Liverpool Convention yesterday. It passed off harmoniously, and Butt had a fair reception, but he declined to give the slightest inkling of his future programme, and when he knew his words would be made public, would not make any allusion to the burning question,

O’Connor Power asked him if he would call a National Conference in Ireland, but he would give no definite reply, saying he would have to consult his friends. Biggar made a strong appeal to him to throw off the influence of the evil counsellors who have set him against the earnest men of the Party, but he scarcely made any sign, though there was no tinge of bitterness in his words. He said he could not accept the Presidency of the Confederation for another year, even if it had been offered to him, about which he expressed no opinion, and that he would have much pleasure in proposing Parnell’s name for the Chair.

At Parnell’s request the matter was postponed until they had had a discussion on the policy before the country, as he evidently thought they might get something out of Butt. Although this was done, nothing came of it and the election was postponed to the second day, when Butt was not able to be present. In fact Butt had to leave about 5.30 on the Monday. On his leaving the Chair some graceful words were said on both sides, and when he left the room the whole of those present rose to their feet. Before the proceedings commenced, however, on Butt meeting O’Donnell, he offered him his hand, but O’Donnell merely bowed low without accepting it. All the others appeared to be cordial with him.

I enclose a placard of the pro-obstruction meeting we are going to have in Newcastle.”

Backed thenceforward by the Irish in Britain, Parnell’s strength grew. His countrymen at home, gyved by landlordism, lay supine, Meetings in England and Scotland gave him sympathy, but, save in the Press controlled by T. D. Sullivan, he and Biggar were cord-shouldered.

Barry parted sorrowfully with Butt, who had so often defended the Fenian prisoners from 1865 onwards. In 1890, when Parnell was himself deposed, he sneered at Barry as the “leader-killer.""

I wrote to Maurice:

Newcastle-on-Tyne,

31st August, ‘77*.

“*I pointed out to T.D.S. that, at best “obstruction” need only be a temporary expedient, as in the next election the Conservatives are sure to lose their majority, and the Liberals cannot do without the Home Rulers, so the latter will be masters of the situation. The keeping of the Party together is the main thing, but you must give the populace (who cannot appreciate subtlety of action) some value for their money in the meantime, and I would let the sop to Cerberus be “obstruction,” to keep their appetite whetted, and prevent their growing impatient.

In any eventuality Butt is no man to lead. He is too soft and easily gammoned. He is clever, plausible, statesrhanlike and eloquent, but he is not a leader of men. I am afraid he would, if English parties got balanced, be easily wheedled into supporting the Liberals for the sake of some Franchise Bill, or something of that kind, instead of holding out for a settlement on the main question. Whether the Party go in for obstruction or not, I would be in favour of getting rid of Butt, and the sooner the air is cleared by his retirement the better,”

I induced Parnell, Biggar, O’Donnell, and O’Connor Power to speak in Newcastle-on-Tyne on the 10th September, 1877. My comments on the gathering were:

“The meeting was one of the best ever held in the town. Often as I have managed these things, I never before felt the sense of responsibility in connection with them which weighed upon me in the present case. Even had it been a thin house it would have been taken as the pronouncement of Irishmen in the North in favour of Butt’s policy, and a great discouragement to the energetic members. Yet the scenes through which I have gone were unpleasant… .

The Butt-ites are spreading charges against me. One says I have turned the town upside-down; another that I am a demon; and a third expressed indignation that, after 30 years’ service in the cause of his country, he should be treated as he has been by a “boy.” We gave O’Connor Power £12 as his expenses, and sent O’Donnell £8, but half of the latter would be required to pay his railway fare.”

My brother and I owed much to Newcastle-on-Tyne. Physical science was taught at night in Armstrong’s Works, Elswick, by Professor Rowden (a man of genius), and we got certificates in some branches. For small fees we were also able to acquire, at the Mechanics’ Institute, French and a little German. To correct a stoop I joined the 3rd Northumberland Artillery Volunteers. The drill sergeant, a giant Irishman, dubbed Mac, often said to me, “You’d throw the whole British Army out of step!”

A proposal came in 1878 from T. D. Sullivan, of the Nation, that I should leave Newcastle-on-Tyne for London. On this I wrote

Newcastle,

20th February, ‘78.

“I had a line from T.D.S. saying that if I cared to go to London he would give me a pound a week to write a “letter “for the Nation each week, which would enable me, if I could obtain another berth, to improve my position… .”

In those days an offer to pay £1 a column for literary work seemed colossal, and I wondered what I was to do for it. I wrote to my father:

Newcastle-on-Tyne,

21st February, ‘78.

“I had a note from T.D.S. to-day. Says what he wants will be chiefly parliamentary sketches, and that when the Session is over there would be plenty of other things, or, if not, I would then probably have obtained a sufficient berth to enable me to drop the letter if I thought fit, until next year. I think it would be foolish of me not to risk the change.”

At the end of February, 1878, I left Newcastle for London. There I sat in the Strangers’ Gallery of the House of Commons nightly. My writings championed the “new men,” and were critical of the old.

On the 16th March, 1878, I wrote my brother:

“I saw A. M. Sullivan for a moment on Thursday when he got me into the House, but had no talk with him. Next day Parnell got me In “under the clock” (the best part of the House), promised me his “orders of admission” for a week, and put my name down three times for the Speaker’s Gallery. O’Connor Power also was cordial. I anticipate no difficulty in getting in whenever I want.”

St. Patrick’s Day, ‘78.

“The Nation pound a week would suffice to keep me going, and without this I have sufficient money to stand a six months’ lock-out, supposing I didn’t earn a penny in that time. If I could feel that the Nation arrangement was one which the proprietor would be as glad to continue as I should desire myself, I would have no hesitation to swap any other berth and devote myself in spare time to a little of that culture which I feel sadly in want of - trying in addition (supposing nothing else turned up) to eke out the pound with anything I could make by writing for the Press.

F. H. O’Donnell on Friday, as I was chatting with him” under the clock,” went out and wrote me this letter of introduction: “The bearer, Mr. Healy, an Irish friend of very considerable cultivation in many departments, is desirous of getting a position on the London Press. He writes parliamentary correspondence for some Irish papers. I know this, for I often read his letters.""

I still kept up relations with Newcastle-on-Tyne, and prevailed on Davitt, who had just been released from prison, to speak there.

I wrote Maurice:

London,

20th March, ‘78.

“The St. Patrick’s Day demonstration in Newcastle-on-Tyne was, I hear, a great success, which was a relief to my mind. The poor fellows there raised a great “ulagone” over my departure, and gave me a fine writing-desk. A better lot of men, taking them all round, is not to be found anywhere.

I cannot share my friends’ confidence as to my capabilities for London correspondence. To do the thing properly would require much more time for hanging about the House than I command. T.D.S. will give me no instructions, beyond telling me that I need not confine myself to parliamentary matters.”

I gained confidence as to the stuff I contributed to the Nation by the favour it received, and again wrote:

London,

11th April, ‘78.

“Parnell, in the matter of getting admission to the House, has stood to me “like a brick,” putting down my name whenever there was an opportunity, and apologizing if he missed it; but I need not say this is not as a personal favour to me, but to the organ of the Obstructives.

Alfred Crilly of Liverpool, whom I met in the Lobby on Monday on Free Trade business, said my Nation letter was “very good.” If on its literary merits it is not worth a pound, at least the toil it involves would not be compensated for by that amount.

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