Mr. Harrington is far from being an exception to this rule. When I told him that I expected to visit first the south of Ireland, his own county, he hastened in the kindest way to place himself at my service, and offered to give me all the letters of introduction that I could possibly require; he particularly promised me one for the local president of the Land League, at Castle-Connell, a letter, which could, if necessary, be used as an introduction to all the others. He at once dictated what was requisite to one of the secretaries, who a few minutes later brought the letter for his signature. It was written on magnificent crested paper with quite an official appearance. At our Admiralty, the chief of the staff always conducted his business in a similar style. I certainly am in a minister’s office.
From time to time some political notoriety came in to inquire what was going on, and I was fortunate enough to be introduced to two of them—men of whom I had often heard.
The first was a small deformed man with sparkling eyes. This was Mr. Biggar, formerly a bacon factor in Belfast, who, having launched into politics, has become the fidus Achates of Mr. Parnell and his friends, and one of the creators of the well-known “sore” (I cannot find any more suitable expression) that is usually called the Obstruction campaign.
In 1881, the Government, seized with one of those paroxysms of firmness to which I have already referred, and wishing to re-establish a little order in Ireland, demanded from Parliament, not the proclamation of a state of siege, but simply powers which would enable them to act rather more rapidly than the ordinary form of procedure would allow of. This is what is meant by the Coercion Bill. Mr. Parnell and his friends, whom it was really intended to affect, were naturally anxious that this bill should not pass; but, being only a very small minority, they had no regular means of checking or preventing its progress. They therefore had recourse to tactics, which they had already used on different occasions, but in a less complete way. In the absence of any written rules, the English Parliament only obeys traditional customs. One of these customs is, that when a member is speaking he can continue as long as he likes, and an adjournment cannot be moved before all the members have spoken who have in writing given notices of their intention to move amendments.
At this time there were eighteen Nationalist members in the House. It was arranged that each of them should propose an amendment on every clause, and that each of them should not only support his own amendment, but also the motions of the other seventeen, each member speaking as long as his strength would allow. They had already tried this little game in 1877, and they had succeeded in making one sitting last twenty-four hours consecutively.
But they were determined to do better next time, and they kept their word. They commenced by protesting against the mere idea, that the state of Ireland justified the adoption of special measures; they asserted that far from getting worse, the situation was visibly improving; every one must know that in December, 1880, there were 867 agrarian crimes; but in January, 1881, there were not more than 448. And what crimes! In the first fortnight of the year, there was not a single murder. It was true that four houses had been attacked; two men had been shot at, but they were not hurt; only one person had been rather seriously beaten, but it was not even suggested that his life was in danger! It must be remembered that all this was said quite seriously. I have copied these details from a book that Mr. Gray recommended to me for its veracity, and which was written by Mr. O’Connor, one of his parliamentary colleagues, the title of the book is The Parnell Movement. The discussion thus commenced was continued in the same tone; an Irish member rose and proposed an amendment, no matter what it was, then he commenced to speak on no matter what subject. One of them recited some verses, another commenced to read an old collection of laws. In England Parliament sits in the evening; a sitting commenced on Monday evening was prolonged through the whole of Tuesday and far into Wednesday night. The two parties had organised relays; on each side of the House only twelve members were left lying on the benches, and the sole interruptions they offered to the orator, was the sounds of their snoring; one old member being rather delicate, brought a blanket for the second night.
Irish eloquence still flowed on. At a quarter to five on Wednesday morning, Mr. Sexton began to speak, and continued his speech until twenty minutes to eight o’clock. Mr. Leamy replaced Mr. Sexton; then followed Mr. Biggar, who had been home to bed and had just come back. He commenced his speech by saying, with a pleasant smile: “Perhaps I’m trespassing on the patience of the House.”
Some one, who had just awakened, replied as he stretched himself:
“No, no!”