‘But there was none.’
‘Is that all you know of it? They were as thick as two thieves. It was “Dear Dane” and “Dear Dan” between them. “Stop the shooting. We want a light calendar at the summer assizes,” says one. “You shall have forty thousand pounds yearly for a Catholic college, if the House will let us.” “Thank you for nothing for the Catholic college,” says Dan. “We want our own Parliament and our own militia; free pardon for political offences.” What would you say to a bill to make landlord-shooting manslaughter, Mr. Kearney?’
‘Justifiable homicide, Mr. Bright called it years ago, but the judges didn’t see it.’
‘This Danesbury “muddle,” for that is the name they give it, will be hushed up, for he has got some Tory connections, and the lords are never hard on one of their “order,” so I hear. Hartigan is to be let have his talk out in the House, and as he is said to be violent and indiscreet, the Prime Minister will only reply to the violence and the indiscretion, and he will conclude by saying that the noble Viceroy has begged Her Majesty to release him of the charge of the Irish Government; and though the Cabinet have urgently entreated him to remain and carry out the wise policy of conciliation so happily begun in Ireland, he is rooted in his resolve, and he will not stay; and there will be cheers; and when he adds that Mr. Cecil Walpole, having shown his great talents for intrigue, will be sent back to the fitting sphere—his old profession of diplomacy—there will be laughter; for as the Minister seldom jokes, the House will imagine this to be a slip, and then, with every one in good humour—but Paul Hartigan, who will have to withdraw his motion—the right honourable gentleman will sit down, well pleased at his afternoon’s work.’
Kearney could not but laugh at the sketch of a debate given with all the mimicry of tone and mock solemnity of an old debater, and the two men now became, by the bond of their geniality, like old acquaintances.
‘Ah, Mr. Kearney, I won’t say we’d do it better on College Green, but we’d do it more kindly, more courteously, and, above all, we’d be less hypocritical in our inquiries. I believe we try to cheat the devil in Ireland just as much as our neighbours. But we don’t pretend that we are arch-bishops all the time we’re doing it. There’s where we differ from the English.’
‘And who is to govern us,’ cried Kearney,’ if we have no Lord-Lieutenant?’
‘The Privy Council, the Lords Justices, or maybe the Board of Works, who knows? When you are going over to Holyhead in the packet, do you ever ask if the man at the wheel is decent, or a born idiot, and liable to fits? Not a bit of it. You know that there are other people to look to this, and you trust, besides, that they’ll land you all safe.’
‘That’s true,’ said Kearney, and he drained his glass; ‘and now tell me one thing more. How will it go with young O’Shea about this scrimmage, will it be serious?’
‘Curtis, the chief constable, says it will be an ugly affair enough. They’ll swear hard, and they’ll try to make out a title to the land through the action of trespass; and if, as I hear, the young fellow is a scamp and a bad lot—’