He could always absorb very quickly any knowledge that appealed to him, and he soon had the pleasure of teaching me much about the latest discoveries, and about a subject intensely interesting to him—the wonderful way in which the telescopes used in the great observatories of the world are made.
In time this study of the stars began to worry him too much, and he reluctantly gave up all serious work on the subject. He said it was all too immense and absorbing to think about in a life that was primarily concerned with politics. But the pedestal remained, and still we occasionally mounted the telescope and kept vigil with the stars through the summer night.
On April 7, 1881, Mr. Gladstone had introduced his Land Bill into the House of Commons. It was a better Bill than the Irish Party had reason to expect, but it had grave defects, and the Irish had not been consulted; while the Government's policy of coercion and Forster's attitude towards Parnell and his followers made co-operation between the Liberals and the Irish impossible. Parnell's policy was to hold aloof and press for amendments. After being crippled in the House of Lords the Bill became law. At a Land League Convention held in Dublin on September 14 a resolution was adopted, on the suggestion of Parnell, that the Act should be tested by selected cases. "Nothing," said Parnell, "could be more disastrous to our cause or our organization, and to your hopes of getting your rents reduced, than an indiscriminate rush of the tenantry into the Land Courts."
A few days later Parnell was drawn in triumph through the streets of Dublin. The same day Forster wrote to Gladstone suggesting that Parnell should be arrested under the Coercion Act.
He suggested, moreover, that in his next speech at Leeds, on October 7, Mr. Gladstone should impeach Parnell and his policy. Gladstone obeyed. The people of Ireland, he cried, wished to use the Land Act and Parnell would not let them, but "the resources of civilisation were not yet exhausted."
Parnell retorted with passion and scorn in his famous Wexford speech delivered on October 9.[[1]]
"Suppose they arrest you, Mr. Parnell," asked an Irish member, who dined with the Leader on the evening of the speech, "have you any instructions to give us? Who will take your place?" "Ah!" he said, deliberately, looking through a glass of champagne which he had just raised to his lips. "Ah, if I am arrested Captain Moonlight will take my place."[[2]]
All through 1881 Parnell was constantly paying flying visits to Ireland, and also to various parts of England, working up the "League," addressing meetings and privately ascertaining for himself how far the temper of the "reactionaries" could be trusted to do the work he wished without becoming too greatly involved in the tactics of the "Invincibles" proper. He came home to me now always between the times of his journeyings up and down the country, and if it was not certain that I should be alone he would write me a formal though friendly note or letter that anyone could have been shown, in which was given some word or sign that let me know a place or time of meeting him, either in London or nearer my home. On some of these occasions my duties to my aunt would keep me, so that I might be an hour or more late in arriving at the place where he awaited me; but never once in all those years did he once fail me or leave the place of appointment before I came, even though it might be at the loss of the mail train to Ireland, and leaving some thousands of people waiting in vain for the speech he was too far away to make. Sometimes I would become conscience-stricken on such an occasion, but he would only comment that one speech more or less was a little matter, and what was lost by a speech not made was amply compensated for by the deepened impression of his mystery and power gained by the people. "For it is the strange thing I found out early in political life," he would say, "they think I'm much more wonderful when I do nothing than when I'm working hard."
MORRISON'S HOTEL, DUBLIN,
September 10, 1881.