“Such is the present one,” said he, raising his voice, and looking around him with a glance of bold defiance. “You are about to take away the right of self-government from a nation, and every man in the land, not only such as sit here, sir, but every man to whose future ambition a seat in this House may form a goal, every man has a deep interest in your proceedings. It is a grave and weighty question, whose conditions impose the conviction that we are unfit to legislate for ourselves,—that we are too weak, or too venal, or too ignorant, or too dishonest. To that conclusion you must come, or no other. Absence from Ireland must suggest enlightenment on her interests; distance must lend knowledge as well as enchantment, or an English Parliament cannot be better than our own. I have listened attentively, but unconvinced, to all arguments on this head; I have heard over and over again the long catalogue of benefits to accrue to this country when the power of realizing them herself has been wrested from her, and I have thought of Lear and his daughters! It would seem to me, however, that the social welfare and the commercial prosperity of a people are themes too vulgar for the high consideration of our times. The real question at issue is not whether a Parliament should or should not continue to sit here, but what shall I, and others like me, benefit by voting it away forever?”
“Order! order!” called out several voices.
But Daly resumed: “I ask pardon. It is more parliamentary to put the case differently, and I shall, under correction, do so. Well, sir, we may benefit largely. I trust I am not disorderly in saying that peerages, bishoprics, regiments, frigates, commissionerships, and Heaven knows what more, will reward us when our utility to the State has met the approval of an Imperial Parliament. I can well credit every promise of such gratitude, and have only to ask in turn, Are these the arguments that should sway us now? Is it because we are bungling legislators that they wish for us in London?—is it because we are venal they seek our company, because we are inefficient they ask for our cooperation? Are they so supremely right-minded, honorable, and far-seeing that they need the alloy of our dulness to make them mortal? And suppose such the case, will it be gratifying to us to become the helots to this people? Will our national pride be flattered because our eloquence is sneered at, our law derided, our political knowledge a scoff, and our very accent a joke? Do not tell me such things are unlikely; we are far weaker on the point than we like to confess. For myself, I can imagine the sense of shame—of deep, heartfelt, abasing shame—I should feel at seeing some of those I see here rise in a British House of Commons to address that body, while the rumor should run, 'He is the member for Meath or for Wicklow.' I can picture to myself such a man: a man of low origin and mean capacity; a man who carves his path in life less from his own keen abilities than that others shrink from his contact, and leave him unopposed in every struggle; a pettifogger at the Bar; a place-hunter at the Parliament; half beggar, half bravo, with a petition for the Minister, and a pistol for the Opposition. Imagine a man like this, and reflect upon the feeling of every gentleman at hearing the rumor announce, 'Ay, that's a learned Serjeant, a leader at the Bar of Ireland.'”
The last words were delivered in a tone of direct personality, as, turning towards where Nickolls sat, Daly threw at him a look of defiance. The whole House arose as if one man, with cheers and counter-cheers, and loud yells of insult, mingled with cries of “Order!” Nor was it till after a long and desperate wordy altercation that the clamor was subdued, and decorum at length restored. Then it was remarked that Nickolls had left the House.
The Speaker immediately ordered the Serjeant of the House to place Daly under arrest,—a measure which, however dictated by propriety, seemed to call forth a burst of indignation from the Opposition benches.
“I hope, sir,” said Daly, rising with an air of most admirably feigned humility,—“I hope, sir, you will not execute this threat,—the inconvenience to me will be very great: I was about to pair off with the honorable and learned member for Newry.”
The mention of the town for which the Serjeant sat in Parliament renewed the laughter which now prevailed on both sides of the House.
“I cannot understand the mirth of the gentlemen opposite,” said Daly, with affected simplicity, “without it be from their astonishment that the Government can spare so able and so eloquent an advocate as the honorable and learned gentleman; but let them reassure themselves and look around, and, believe me, they'll find the Treasury benches filled by gentlemen as like him as possible.”
The Speaker reissued the order to the Serjeant-at-Arms, and Daly now came forward to the table and begged in all form to know the reason of such severity. “If, sir,” said he, in conclusion,—“if I could believe it possible that you anticipate any personal collision between myself and any member of this House, I have only to say that I am bound over in the sum of two thousand pounds to keep the peace within the limits of this kingdom. I take out a license at two pounds fifteen to kill game, it is true; but I 'd not pay sixpence for the privilege to shoot a lawyer.”
The fact of the heavy recognizances to which Daly alluded was at once confirmed by several members, and after a brief conversation with the Speaker the matter was dropped.