intimating to the English his indifference to their
praise or blame. On one remarkable occasion, at the beginning of the
session of 1883, he was denounced by Mr. W. E. Forster in a long and
bitter speech, which told powerfully upon the House. Many instances
were given in which Irish members had palliated or failed to condemn
criminal acts, and Parnell was arraigned as the head and front of this
line of conduct, and thus virtually responsible for the outrages that
had occurred. The Irish leader, who had listened in impassive silence,
broken only by one interjected contradiction, to this fierce
invective, did not rise to reply, and was with difficulty induced by
his followers to deliver his defence on the following day. To the
astonishment of every one, that defence consisted in a declaration,
delivered in a cold, careless, almost scornful way, that for all he
said or did in Ireland he held himself responsible to his countrymen
only, and did not in the least regard what Englishmen thought of him.
It was an answer not of defence but of defiance.

Even to his countrymen he could on occasion be disdainful, expecting
them to defer to his own judgment of his own course. He would
sometimes remain away from Parliament for weeks together, although
important business might be under consideration, perhaps would vanish
altogether from public ken. Yet this lordly attitude and the air of
mystery which surrounded him did not seem to be studied with a view to
effect. They were due to his habit of thinking first and chiefly of
himself. If he desired to indulge his inclinations, he indulged them.
Some extremely strong motive of passion or interest might interpose
to restrain this desire and stimulate him to an unwelcome exertion;
but no respect for the opinion of others, nor fear of censure from his
allies or friends, would be allowed to do so.

This boundless self-confidence and independence greatly contributed to
his success as a leader. His faith in his star inspired a conviction
that obstacles whose reality his judgment recognised would ultimately
yield to his will, and gave him in moments of crisis an undismayed
fortitude which only once forsook him--in the panic which was suddenly
created by the Phoenix Park murders of May 1882. The confidence which
he felt, or appeared to feel, reacted upon his party, and became a
chief ground of their obedience to him and their belief in his
superior wisdom. His calmness, his tenacity, his patie