Parnell by Brian Cregan

Author:Brian Cregan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780752496962
Publisher: The History Press
Published: 2013-07-22T00:00:00+00:00

Thirty-Three

A Duel

I RETURNED TO London with Parnell some days later and shortly afterwards Gladstone introduced his Land Act. Parnell, Biggar and I sat down to read it through in an alcove in the House of Commons, the April sunlight streaming in, illuminating each particle of dust.

The more we studied the bill, the more we realised that Gladstone had really struggled to come to grips with the enormity of the problem. It seemed that Gladstone, like Parnell, was determined to break the power of the landlords in Ireland. The Act would bring about a revolution in land ownership in Ireland as decisive as anything which had occurred during the French revolution, but it would be done in an English manner, slowly and methodically and in accordance with the rule of law.

Ironically, the true star of the debates over the land bill was Tim Healy. He had mastered its provisions so thoroughly that at times the House was reduced to a drawing-room conversation between Healy and Gladstone, as Healy probed and picked and analysed and argued over the minutiae of the new bill. Eventually, Gladstone came to appreciate Healy’s command of the issues and his understanding of the bill and over the months he accepted many of Healy’s amendments.

Indeed, the respect and cordiality which developed between Gladstone and Healy throughout these debates was noticeable. As Gladstone complimented Healy’s mastery of the bill, Healy seemed to beam with pleasure. As Parnell grew colder towards him, Healy turned like a sunflower to the greater warmth of Gladstone and a curious friendship grew up between them. Thereafter, it was hard to get Healy ever to say a bad word about Gladstone and his admiration of him grew in direct proportion to his dislike of Parnell.

Parnell intervened on many occasions and attended the House every night of the debate. But as the session progressed, he appeared to be increasingly unwell. He was pale and, even in the cold of the evening, appeared to be feverish, almost clammy. As I sat beside him, I could hear him sighing deeply, as if constantly trying to get his breath back. But whenever he stood to make his interventions, he seemed to banish those symptoms at will, only to relapse into weakness once his contribution had been made. I became increasingly concerned about him and I told him he should rest, that he wasn’t needed every night of the debate.

‘I have been invited down to Brighton,’ he said. ‘I think perhaps I will go.’

‘The sea air will help you,’ I said, trying to reassure him. I assumed Mrs O’Shea had invited him but he made no reference to her.

I wondered whether the strain of the intrigue was beginning to tell.

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