nce, his habit
of listening quietly to every one, but deciding for himself, were all
evidences of that resolute will which imposed itself upon the Irish
masses no less than upon his Parliamentary following, and secured for
him a loyalty in which there was little or nothing of personal
affection.

In these several respects his overweening pride was a source of
strength. In another direction, however, it proved a source of
weakness. There are men in whom the want of moral principle, of noble
emotions, or of a scrupulous conscience and nice sense of honour, is
partly replaced by deference to the opinion of their class or of the
world. Such men may hold through life a tolerably upright course,
neither from the love of virtue nor because they are ambitious and
anxious to stand well with those whom they aspire to influence or
rule, but because, having a sense of personal dignity, combined with a
perception of what pleases or offends mankind, they are resolved to do
nothing whereby their good name can be tarnished or an opening given
to malicious tongues. But when pride towers to such a height as to
become a law to itself, disregarding the judgment of others, it may
not only lead its possessor into an attitude of defiance which the
world resents, but may make him stoop to acts of turpitude which
discredit his character. Mr. Parnell was certainly not a scrupulous
man. Without dwelling upon the circumstances attending the divorce
case already referred to, or upon his betrayal of Mr. Gladstone's
confidences, and his reckless appeals during the last year of his life
to the most inflammable elements in Ireland, there are facts enough in
his earlier career to show that he had little regard for truth and
little horror for crime. A revolution may extenuate some sins, but
even in a revolution there are men (and sometimes the strongest men)
whose moral excellence shines through the smoke of conflict and the
mists of detraction. In Mr. Parnell's nature the moral element was
imperfectly developed. He seemed cynical and callous; and it was
probably his haughty self-reliance which prevented him from
sufficiently deferring to the ordinary moralities of mankind. His
pride, which ought to have kept him free from the suspicion of
dishonour, made him feel himself dispensed from the usual restraints.
Whatever he did was right in his own eyes, and no other eyes need be
regarded. Phenomena somewhat similar were observable in Napoleon. But
Napoleo