My Life

My Life - Oswald Mosleythe political scene; a typical Tory squire, but much less bigoted than his wife. He hadconsiderable humour and delighted in such tales as Balfour's riposte to Parnell'sobstreperous lieutenant, Mr. Biggar, by reference to 'the honourable member with themisplaced vowel'; a striking remark in debate, but in memory these anecdotes can alltoo easily be transferred from the smoking-room to the chamber. His favourites ondifferent sides of the House were the radical Laboucháre, who founded Truth, andThomas Gibson Bowles, of most varied accomplishments on the Tory side. I had thenno premonition that by marrying a Mitford I should acquire one of his granddaughters.It was the blending of Mr. Bowles with the Mitford and Stanley combination whichproduced that remarkable vintage. The merry sisters, as Evelyn Waugh called them,have together an unlimited capacity to blow bright bubbles of gay fantasy withpeacock screams of ecstatic laughter which can transform and more than enliven anydull moment. The vivid esprit of Mr. Bowles undoubtedly made its contribution tothis felicitous phenomenon.My grandfather found Parnell by far the most fascinating personality of the period. Inparticular, he noted the contrast between the ice-cold Protestant landowner and hispassionate, revolutionary Irish followers; his influence over them never ceased toastonish. It was the discipline he taught them which temporarily disrupted the Englishparliamentary system and would undoubtedly have won Irish freedom a generationearlier, except for his dark, personal tragedy, a weakness strangely unaccountable insuch a will and spirit. My grandfather told how Parnell would suddenly andunexpectedly enter the chamber - after protracted absence on business into which fewdared to enquire - to find an Irish riot in full swing, every man on his feet and roaringinsults with red faces of fury. Immediately he appeared at the bar everyone would sitdown, and complete silence would fall. Parnell would walk slowly to his seat with hisusual stiff dignity, and ask the Whip what it was all about. If satisfied, a slight motionof his hand would bring every man to his feet again in an uproar which lifted the roof.How did it all begin? My grandfather explained that Parnell arrived at Westminster asa comparatively young man to find a completely ineffective Irish party under theleadership of an amiable gentleman called Mr. Butt, who usually turned up rather lateat night in full evening dress after dining with the Tories. Parnell decided to put a stopto all that and, with the assistance of the member who got his vowel wrong, he did sovery quickly. The continual row led on occasion to his being physically removed bythe Sergeant-at-Arms and his assistants, but it was a fight - a hell of a fight - whichthrilled all Ireland. It made him the hero of the Irish people and through theirenthusiasm the undisputed leader of the Irish Party. How could such a man at themoment he had won his struggle - for Gladstone was obliged to negotiate with him,even when he was in Kilmainham Gaol - have thrown away all he had done, andhimself, for the sake of Mrs. O'Shea? He thought perhaps that he could get away withit, that both life and love, ambition and beauty could be served to the full. Inapproaching a more luminous sphere I had something of this nature in mind when Iwrote in my introduction to a translation of Goethe's Faust a reference to theenchanted, Byronic child Euphorion: 'He aspires to both beauty and achievement. Inhis longing for the furthest flight he reaches for the forbidden wings. Disaster strikesdown from heaven.'My grandfather's description of Parnell was not so dramatic as Disraeli's account ofthe shadows darkening round Canning - when he witnessed 'the tumult of that ethereal19 of 424