Paddy at Home ("Chez Paddy")

by baron de E. Mandat-Grancey

And, encouraged by these friendly words, Mr. Biggar continued.

But at nine o’clock A.M. the Speaker entered. During the night a meeting of principal members of the Tory Opposition had been convened by the Government. They all agreed that it was high time to end the scandal, and having arranged the course to be pursued, the members were hastily summoned by the Whips, and re-entered in crowds.

Mr. Biggar still went on; but the Speaker, without apparently noticing that he was speaking, suggested that the House should adjourn.

Mr. Biggar uttered cries of “Shame,” “Order,” &c., but the Nationalists were not then present in force. Mr. Parnell himself was absent. The adjournment was moved amidst the hurrahs of the whole House, and Mr. Biggar was forced to content himself with calling upon the people to witness the abominable tyranny of which he was the victim.

The eighteen endeavoured to re-commence that evening; but at the first words pronounced by one of them, the House rose in a body and voted for their expulsion.

All this is certainly very droll; but what can be gained by these childish tricks? The Irish demand the establishment of a National Parliament at Dublin. What will they do if the Protestant members from Ulster use towards the majority the same tactics they—the minority—have so constantly employed in London? Many of them dream of the establishment of a Republic. They need only cross over to France to see how Republican assemblies treat the representatives of a minority. Under the first Republic they guillotined them purely and simply. In our days, they have invented special bye-laws for their benefit. Perhaps in a few months Mr. Biggar will preside over an Irish House of Commons. It will be curious to see how he will deal with obstructionists.

The other politician to whom I had the honour of being introduced during a visit to the offices of the Land League is Mr. Sullivan, the Lord Mayor of Dublin. Mr. Sullivan, a tall, thin, elderly man, with a proud intelligent face, is an author. It is said that he has published a volume of poetry, which was a great success. Unfortunately, I have not read it.

How different public customs are in this country from our own! A morning paper related that yesterday the Lord Mayor, accompanied by the Town Clerk and a deputation of eight members of the Corporation, went to open some public baths that the Town Council have just built in Tara Street. The inauguration was thus completed:—His Lordship having considered it was part of his duty, took a header into the bath; Mr. Beveridge, the Town Clerk, did the same; then these two gentlemen challenged each other, and the enthusiastic crowd watched a most interesting swimming race. Was the Town Clerk only a base flatterer? I cannot say. But, at all events, the Lord Mayor won by a length. The Freeman’s, which complacently reported this exploit, has unfortunately omitted some of the details we should like to have known. Did the Lord Mayor take off his curled wig? Did he wear drawers of the national colour? And was there a white harp to relieve the green foundation? Why did not the mace-bearers follow their chiefs? This would all be interesting information, which he should have given; yet the writer of the article has neglected to mention these details.

I had a long conversation with one of these diving magistrates. Unluckily I could not congratulate him upon his aquatic success, for I did not hear of it until after our interview. From him, too, I asked for an explanation about the real grievances of Ireland against the present government by England; I say present, because I quite admit the validity of old complaints. I am absolutely convinced that in the last and even in the commencement of this century, England treated Ireland abominably. The stories of confiscation do not touch me at all; they happened from four to eight hundred years ago. If it is still maintained that a title of four hundred years is not sufficient to constitute a right of ownership, it would become necessary to search for the titles of the people who were then dispossessed, and this might take us some time. Had I lived in the time of the French Republic, or even of the Empire, it would have been my pleasure and my duty to send a bullet through the head of the man who had bought my family property from the nation; but I can now look at their descendants without any rancour, because everything ends in this world.