“Is this—ahem!—the Mr. Duffy who holds a somewhat prominent position in Victoria?”
“Only that of prime minister,” laughed the priest.
“And what was his—ahem!—policy in the crisis you mention?”
“A retreat all along the line. He tried the original Irish Confederation policy, but received no support. He at last got together a party under the banner of ‘tenant right.’ This was a move that brought the Presbyterians of Ulster to take counsel with the Catholics of Munster; it brought Repealers, and Anti-Repealers, and men of every shade of politics and religion upon one common platform, and an organization was formed to compel Parliament to pass a measure which would prevent the eviction of the tenant farmer, except for the non-payment of rent, and to prevent also the arbitrary raising of the rent.”
“That’s me jewel!” cried Peter, in an ecstasy of approbation. “Faix ye’d think it was on th’ althar he was.” This latter observation being addressed to me.
“You flooded us in the House, if I remember—ahem!—rightly, with a very strange set of representatives as the outcome of this movement,” observed Mr. Hawthorne.
“Yes, we sent you about thirty-five or forty members, returned at the instance of the Tenant League and to work out its programme. They used the new shibboleth to suit their own ends, and many of them being both corrupt and dishonest, the pass was sold and the party bought up through its leaders, Sadlier and Keogh. Some of us thought it was a goodly step in the right direction to see Catholics on the bench, and lulled our consciences with this soporific; but the cause of the poor tenant was lost, and we grasped the shadow while the substance floated beyond our reach.”
“The curse o’ Crummle on Sadlier and Billy Keogh! Amin,” muttered Peter.
“A cohort of the exasperated section of the forty-eight party now came to the front, who, seeing the utter and shameful defeat of the Gavan-Duffy following, instantly raised their voices for war to the knife, war to the bitter end, and out of this cry arose the Fenian movement.”
“I should like to hear your ideas upon this insane movement,” observed the M.P., endeavoring to face Father O’Dowd, and succeeding only in jerking himself partly off the car, to the hand-rail of which he clung with the tenacity of an octopus. “What support did it receive?”