JUSTIN McCARTHY.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXIII, Issue 7, 6 May 1912, Page 3

JUSTIN McCARTHY.

V NOVELIST, AN HISTORIAN AND A POLITICIAN.

11l tllG early days of his career the late Mr Justin McCarthy engaged strenuously in the free-trade controvesry. It is even alleged that as a hoy he was “one of the men of the ’IS.” Later ho crossed swords with

John Bright in the “People’s Tribune,” and publicly renounced his friendship. With Mr Parnell he was often at war; and Mr Parnell’s description of his as “a nice old gentleman for a cpiiet tea-party,” is often quoted. He it was who met the Irish mail at Willesden when Mr Parnell came out of Kilmainham on parole in April, 1882, the occasion, according to j the old Times story, when the Phoenix Park murders were darkly laid in train. Ho it was, according to the same veracious authority, through whose guilty hands Byrne received the “opportune remittance” which enabled him to flee from justice— an incident of which Mr McCarthy gave a transparently simple explanation. After Mr Parnell’s deposition from the post of leader, he was elected in his stead, •and the famous split took place in Committee Room 15 of the House of Commons, when the party divided into Parnellites and Anti-Parnellites. Very few, however, followed the leadership of Mr Redmond, who took up the mantle of Mr Parnell, and in the general election of 189-j only twelve Parnellites were returned to sixty-nine Anti-Parnellites.

Mr McCarthy wrote many impels, including “Dear Lady Itisdain,” “Maid of ■Athens,” “Donna Quixote,” and “Monon ia.” His most important contribution to literature, however, is “A History Of Our Own Times”—that is, from the accession of the Queen to the general election of 1880. He also wrote a “History of the Four Georges,” lives of Peel, Pope Leo XIII., and Gladstone, a history of the reign of Anne, “Portraits of the Sixties” and “Modern England.” His “Reminiscences” were published in 1899. Are Irishman’s Career. ' The death of Justin McCarthy stirs many memories of days long past. Pie was in his eighty-second year when he died, but until a year or two ago he seemed to have solved the problem of eternal youth. He grew old in years but not in spirit. He had a strenuous and busy career. Readers of a former generation remember him, doubtless, as the author of the delightful “Dear Lady Disdain.” People who are interested in politics, and especially in Irish politics, have reason to think of him as one of the best-almscd of the Irish leaders, the fellow-schemer of Parnell and the chosen leader of the Parnellite group at the time of the famous split. Everyone ought to remember him as the historian of hitown times.

He was born in Cork in November, 1830, and commenced life as a journalist, being attached to a newspaper at Liverpool in the early fifties. Ip 1860 he was in the Press Gallery of the House as representative of the Morning Star, and lie rose shortly afterwards to be editor of that journal. He, however, only held the position for a few years, throwing it no in 1863 to travel in America. For three years lie was travelling about the States, and there were only two out of the then thirty-seven which he did not visit. During the years that followed Mr McCarthy wrote many books, contributed much to newspapers and periodicals, and engaged deeply in politics. Ho was a leader-writer for the Daily News in the seventies. He was elected to the House of Commons first for Longford County in 1879, sat for Derry City 1886-92,' for North Longford 1892-1900. II( was chairman of the Irish Party from 1890 to 1896. P.SoGartfty’s Own Glory. In 1909 Mr McCarthy wrote the following article for the “Days of Mi Youth” series in “M.A.P.,” then cd ited by his friend and colleague, Mi T. P. O’Connor:— Success first came to me at the early ago of fourteen, when, to the mingled astonishment and admiration of the home circle, I blossomed forth as the author of a play called “Tin Philosophoi\Marriod,” which was duly performed before an enthusiastic and decidedly partial audience of kinsfolk and friends. It eras a very seriour play, tremendously cynical in tone and abounding in profound reflections on tb.o married estate. Oddly enough- I never made any further efforts as a dramatist. Possibly' I had an extremely intelligent anticipation that I should marry and have a son who would win success as a playwright. You see, had I be come a leading dramatist, it would have been very' awkward for my son. when lie sought to follow in my footsteps. People would have said thaJ I helped him with his plays, and ix would have had, so to speak, to live down my reputation. 1 started my journalistic career as a reporter on the staff of the Cork Examiner, with which I remained for some years. An outstanding recollection of these early days is of being present at the trial at Clonmel of Smith O’Brien, William Thomas Francis Meagher, and other noted “rebels,” and hearing sentence pronounced orthem that they should be first drawn and quartered, and then hanged until they were dead, or, perhaps 1 should rather say, until they werstill dead. None imagined that the sentence would Do carried out, hut nevertheless its dread terms, and the grim humour of ordering a man to he first disembowelled and then hanged until he was dead, made a lasting impression upon me. It was at this trial that I first met the late Sir William Howard Russell. He was there representing the ‘Times’ I the ‘Cork Examiner’ ; but he deignled to notice mo, and we struck up an acquaintanceship which lasted till Lis

death. 1 have, indeed, been very successful in life in meeting many famous people and enjoyed their friendship, and that is the kind of success which is altogether pleasurable,-

From the “Cork Examiner” I went to Liverpool as reporter on the “Northern Daily Times,” rising during the seven years I spent on it to be foreign editor, and eventually editor-in-chief. The “Northern Daily Times” was the first provincial paper in England. Provincial journals wore in plenty, but they were either weeklies or were published twice or at most three times a week.

While at Liverpool 1 was fortunate enough to attract the favourable notice of Harriet Martineau, who happened to sec and like various papers of mine in Liverpool journals and in the Westminster Review. She wrote to her brother, the Rev. James Martineau, then a Unitarian minister at Liverpool, asking him to look me up. and thus began a very pleasant and enduring friendship with that eminent man, though I never met Miss Martineau herself. The Westminster Review was a very good friend to me. It was edited by Dr. John Chapman, a medical gentleman who, however, preferred litera ture to lotions. I began by sending in some contributions on chance, and great as my delight when they wore accepted, and X was asked “for more,” with the result that I became a frequent contributor, and it was on the Westminster Review that 1 made perhaps my first real success as an essayist. One mouth I contributed to it an article on “Voltaire's Romances, and Their Moral,” and groat wart my pride when Dr. Chapman told me that he had had a letter from John Stuart Mill to the effect that he considered my article the best in the number, and that he would like to know something of me, In the next number of the Review 1 had a paper on Buckle, the historian, hud again John Stuart

Mill wrote to Dr. Chapman awarding me the palm. This led to a meeting and a friendship that wijl ever bo most dear to me. Mill, for all his colossal intellect, was a most charming man, very quiet and modest, but none the less excellent company, and that was a sad day indeed when I returned from a little pilgrimage to his grave at Avignon.

On my way there I made the acquaintance of a young Englishman, a pleasant, agreeable lad. He accompanied me to the cemetery, and was evidently curious to know what Mr Mill had been 'to me, but was too wellbred to be inquisitive. On the way back, however, lie said, “I suppose thi:: Mr Mill was a very nice man.” “Yes,” I said, “lie was a very nice man.” J said no more, for evidently lie had n'ever heard of one of the greatest -1 • :> „ i' M ° Victorians. Through Mill I met his step-danghter, Helen Taylor, a most accomplished lady. As I have told you, I spent seven happy,. t bpsy years, qiirthe Northern Daily Times, hut Lqnd'o.u always was the lock’,star, and early, in the sixties I welcomed the chance of becoming Parliamentary reporter of the Morning Star. The principal shareholder in the Morning Star was really John Bright, though the shares were in his sister’s name. He, however, was the Morning Star, and little did J think when lie engaged me that it would one day fall to my lot as vice-president of the Irish Party to voice the grief which we, which every party in Parliament, felt at the death of the “People’s ’Tribune.” When John Bright became a Minister, I may sa.v lie severed all connection with the Morning Star—of which, by the way, I was editor for four years—holding that a Minister of the Crown should not have any interest in a. newspaper or any other commercial undertaking of a public natu re.

As ;i novelist, “Dear Lady Disdain” was, no doubt, my “first success.” Betore “she” appeared, however, I had written other novels, the first, a sensational talc, which .1 afterwards withdrew from circulation, because I was anything but proud of it, the second, “The Waterdale Neighbours,” which made a distinct success of its kind. At that time the Saturday Review was at the zenith of its fame and influence. It was also in its most vitriolic period, and its reviews, as a rule, were terribly caustic and severe, especially in the case of new writers. The “Waterdale Neighbours,” however, happened to please the Saturday reviewer wlio read it, and ho gave it a most eulogistic “notice.” 1 was sure my fortune was made. The Saturday, notorious for its flagellation of young authors, praising my hook! —why everyone would rush to read it. But I have yet to learn that the public was not to be coerced even by the Saturday Review. Despite tlio Saturday’s praise, the public did not seem to care much about:-my book. “'The Waterdale Neighbours” was a succors, but a success d’cctirne. Having this in mind, I was not greatly uplifted when again the Saturday was very kind to a later novel of mine, “Dear Lady Disdain,” but this time the public’s opinion coincided with the reviewer’s.

“The History of Our Own Times” was my “first success” as an historian, and thereby hangs a tale, as the saying goes. A very well known firm of publishers, hearing of my projected history, wrote to me saying that they liked the idea, would be glad to publish the work in question, and on terras which I found highly acceptable. Soon afterwards it waft an-

nounced in the press that I was going to stand for Parliament and a;

a Nationalist member for North Longford, whereupon the publishers in question wrote to ms in a terrible “taking.” They said they had seen the announcement of my Parliamentary intentions, and they sincerely Imped it was not true. If, unfortunately, it were, and if still more unfortunately I should bo returned to Parliament, they must break their contract,

for in no circumstances would the English public read a history "of England written by an Irish Nationalist M.r. I told them that the report in the press was perfectly true, and that in ail probability I should be elected for North Longford. They then wrote regretting that they must break’their contract, repeating that the English public would never read my history, and enclosing a cheque for £2O in compensation for any work 1 might already have done on the book. I put the matter before Sir John Robinson, the manager of the Daily News, for - which 1 was working as a leaderwriter, and. in the end, thanks to his intervention, I received one hundred guineas in settlement of all claims I might have against the reluctant publishers. Meanwhile, niv friend Mr

Andrew Ollatto, who had been publishing some of my novels, heard or the affair, and Volunteered to tube the risk of publishing my “History,” even if I should he elected to Parliament.

The first two volumes were written, and mot with such a welcome that they were in a third edition before a

single review of them had appeared in the press. t Further, when I duly

entered Parliament, a seventh edition was 'bn sale, and on taking my seat and being presented to Mr Speaker Brand he warmly congratulated me on the fact that the “History of Our Own Times”had reached a seventh edition. So much for the idea that the English public would not read a history of their country by an Irish Nationalist.

J have told you that owing to the casual absence of Parnell it was my sad duty as vice-president of the Irish Party to pay my tribute to the memory of John Bright, and that was a memorable occasion for me. But in the House i spoke, as a rule, only when required by the Party, and on my own initiative 1 think 1 only made one speech worthy to be called a “success.” It was an interposition rather than a speech, but 1 always recall it with singular pleasure because it brought me a very cordial and pleasing compliment from such a doughty Tory and political, opponent as Mr Henry Chaplin. We, the Irish Party, that is, were engaged in obstruction, to the annoyance of Mr Gladstone, for this was before bis. conversion to Homo Rule, and at last he sought to put an end to our manoeuvres. Frank Hugh O’Donnell was “obstructing” the business of the House, and up got Mr Gladstone and moved that “Mr Frank Hugh O’Donnell he no longer heard.” He then went on to explain that the motion was in order, and that in making it it was correct to allude to the member concerned by name, and not, as on other occasions, as the honourable member, or the member for such-and-such a place, which was all very interesting from the point of view of Parliamentary procedure. But I thought I saw my opportunity, and so I jumped up and twitted Mr Gladstone with the fact that in endeavouring to coerce and suppress us he had put into our hands a more powerful and effective weapon than we had over dreamed of possessing. For, I explained, all that we had to do now was to adopt his own tactics and move that he be no longer heard, and if anyone resisted the motion, we should move that he be no longer heard, and so on ad infinitum. Mr Chaplin was kind enough to describe this as the most, effective piece of extemporaneous argument he had ever heard, and so I suppose I may count it as a Parliamentary “success.” And now I think I have talked enough.