ted Tories, not loving
Mr. Parnell, but seeing in this the promise of a lively and unpleasant
attack on the Bill, cheered lustily, and speeded Mr. Redmond on his way
on the full tide of a splendid reception. But as time went on, their
faces gradually grew longer, and when Mr. Redmond resumed his seat they
had come to the conclusion that one of the strongest foundations on
which they had built their hopes for wrecking the Bill had entirely
gone. Summed up, what Mr. Redmond had to say came to this: that he saw
many grave defects in the Bill; that he was especially dissatisfied with
the financial arrangements; that he didn't approve of the retention of
the Irish members in the Imperial Parliament; but that, nevertheless, it
was a Bill to which he could give a general support. This speech was
received with great though silent satisfaction on all the Irish benches;
but the poor Tories were brought to a condition well nigh of despair.
And thus, cheered heartily by both Irish sections and enthusiastically
greeted by the Liberals, weakly fought, feebly criticised by the
Opposition the Bill started splendidly on its perilous way.
CHAPTER III.
A SOBER AND SUBDUED OPPOSITION.
I have always held that the present Government would first begin to fix
its hold upon the country when it was face to face with Parliament. It
was, during the vacation, like a great firm that is expected by
everybody to do a vast amount of business, but that has been unduly and
unexpectedly delayed in building its works. A visit to the House of
Commons during the week ending February 24th would have exemplified what
I say. It is true there would have been missed all the intense fury and
excitement which characterised one of the most exciting and interesting
weeks the House of Commons has seen for many a day. There was a calm,
the deadliness of which it is impossible to exaggerate. But periods of
calm are much more interesting to Governments than to the public. When
there are the noise and tumult of battle; when the galleries are
crowded--when peers jostle each other in the race for seats--when the
Prince of Wales comes down to his place over the clock, then you may
take it for granted that the business of the country is at a standstill;
and that just so much of the public time is being wasted in mere
emptiness and talk. But when the House is half empty--when the galleries
are no longer full--when debates are brief and passionless, then you can
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