I had written to Mr. Gladstone expressing a wish that he should see Mr. Parnell. He wrote in answer from Downing Street on May 25th, 1882, declining to do so in private, though in public he was more than ready to co-operate with Parnell.
I suggested in reply that we should meet and talk the matter over, and it was arranged that he should come to see me at Thomas's Hotel on June 2nd. He arrived punctually at three o'clock. We had a long talk about Parnell and about politics—chiefly, of course, as referring to Ireland. He was extremely agreeable and courteous, and I remember very well the great charm of manner he possessed, a charm that struck me afresh at each subsequent meeting. A natural charm and, no doubt, a natural insincerity, but one which is such an immense asset in the career of a great man: that of making others believe—or wish to believe—that they are on the same plane of intellect and diplomacy as himself! He was a very great old man, I thought, as his wonderful eagle's eyes showed just sufficient admiration in them to savour of homage without offence. And I may say here that, with all the perfect courtesy of which, when he chose, he was past master, he knew before the conclusion of our interview, and allowed me to know that he knew, what I desired that he should know—that my personal interest in Parnell was my only interest in Irish politics.
Mr. Gladstone having agreed that it would be of considerable convenience to the Government to be in private and amicable communication with Mr. Parnell, and that I, whose interests were inseparable from those of the Irish leader, would be confidently accepted as such intermediary by him, we parted satisfied, I think, on both sides with the afternoon's compact.
After this first interview with Mr. Gladstone I had frequently to see him at Downing Street—taking him drafts, clauses, and various proposed amendments (of Bills affecting Ireland) that Parnell proposed, altered, and suggested privately to Gladstone before putting them before the House. Parnell, of course, always intent on the betterment of the law as affecting Ireland; Gladstone bargaining for the Irish vote, when without it he would have lost his majority.
Parnell would sometimes write the rough draft of what he wished Gladstone to know, or sometimes write what he had to say in the form of a letter (often dating it from my house!), but occasionally he would do neither, as, on more than one important occasion, he said: "I don't trust that Grand Old Spider farther than I can see him. Sweetheart, learn this by heart, and let it off at him yourself." Then I had to take down in my own handwriting what he wished proposed to Gladstone, and at the subsequent interview "let it off" at him. Very often letters were sufficient, and in this case I almost invariably wrote them, or, if the letter was in Parnell's handwriting addressed to me, under cover of my envelope, I would request its return, and this was done; letters intended for Parnell by Gladstone being invariably addressed to me.
It was by my suggestion Mr. Gladstone opened these private negotiations with Mr. Parnell, and I was myself much amused to find that both these great statesmen were of one mind as to the danger of such a trusting of one another as such negotiations necessitated. When I said to Parnell, "Why not see Gladstone yourself privately, and get what you can from him, in return for the Irish vote?" he at once replied that such a proceeding would be fatal to the "cause," and when I said much the same thing to Gladstone at our first interview—which latter was a brilliant inspiration of Parnell's own—he replied that "such a proceeding" would be fatal to his position, but, he added, "it might be advantageous to the Irish leader and myself if you, Mrs. O'Shea, would accept the thankless office of go-between, as you suggest. A safe and secret intermediary might well prove to be of the greatest assistance to us both in our efforts for the welfare of the country." I have wondered since which country the G.O.M. had in his mind as he spoke.
On June 17 and 18, 1882, Gladstone wrote to me. The letter of the 17th was little more than a formal acknowledgment, but in his note of the following day he referred me to something which had passed at our last interview. He had on that occasion directed my attention to the proposal to amend certain severe clauses of the Crimes Act.
Meanwhile the Irish were fighting the Crimes Bill inch by inch. It had been read a second time on May 25 after three nights' debate. The most drastic clause, from the legal point of view, was the suspension of the right of trial by jury in all grave cases of agrarian crime, which (and the Government would decide when) would be tried by a Court of three judges, in such district as the Attorney-general might decide. Public meetings could be proclaimed and newspapers suppressed. The police were vested with power to search private houses and arrest night wanderers. Finally, and against this the Irish Party especially protested—magistrates were empowered to convict summarily on charges of incitement, boycotting, and membership of a secret society.
This was the iron heel with a vengeance; it took from the Irish the last vestige of citizen right. Parnell opposed, yet not violently; the remembrance of the Phoenix Park murders held him back. But the speeches of his followers were bitter in the extreme. "What profit," cried Dillon, "can you ever expect from governing a nation which nothing conciliates, and nothing can subdue?" Of all the fifty Coercion Acts passed in the eighty-eight years since the Union this was the worst.
The second reading was carried by 383 votes against 45.