But where, asks the triumphant critic not quite ingenuously, is the line to be drawn between local and Imperial affairs?  Problems far more perplexed than this have been solved by the wit of man.  The line was drawn by O’Connell and Butt, by Parnell and Gladstone.  It can be drawn to meet the circumstances of to-day by men of goodwill, after discussion and mutual adjustment.  But why not postpone the case of Ireland until a scheme of Home Rule all round either for the United Kingdom or for the whole Empire has been worked out?  We answer that Ireland comes first on grounds both of ethics and of expediency.  Through all the blackness of dismal years we have laboured to preserve the twin ideas of nationality and autonomy, and the labourer is worthy of his hire.  But a Home Rule assembly, functioning in Dublin, may well furnish the germ of a reorganisation of the Empire.  If so, let it be remembered that it was not Mr Chamberlain but Daniel O’Connell who first in these countries gave to Imperialism a definite and articulate form.  In any event Home Rule is the only remedy for the present congestion of St Stephen’s.  It is the only tonic that can restore to English public life its old vigour of independence.

Such are the necessities and such is the future of the Empire merely as a problem in what has been called Political Mechanics.  We have now, from the same point of view, to examine very cursorily the present government of Ireland.  The phrasing, let me interpose, is inaccurate.  Ireland, in our day, is not governed; it is only administered.  A modern government, if it wishes to be real, must above all else explain itself.  For such luxuries, so far as Ireland is concerned, there is no time in the House of Commons.  A modern government must exercise active control over every department of public business.  For such an effort there is, so far as Ireland is concerned, no energy in the House of Commons.  Once in a blue moon it does of course become necessary to pass an Irish Bill, a University or a Land Bill.  The Party shepherds round up their flocks, and, for a reluctant day or two, they have to feed sparely in unaccustomed pastures.  Or again, as in 1886, 1893, or 1912, Ireland dominates British politics, and the English members descend on her with a heavy flop of hatred or sympathy as it may happen.  But at all other times the Union Parliament abdicates, or at least it “governs” Ireland as men are said sometimes to drive motor-cars, in a drowse.  Three days—­or is it two?—­are given to Irish Estimates, and on each of these occasions the Chamber is as desolate as a grazing ranch in Meath.  Honourable members snatch at the opportunity of cultivating their souls in the theatres, clubs, restaurants, and other centres of culture in which London abounds.  The Irish Party is compelled by the elemental necessities of the situation to speak with one voice on matters regarding which there would properly be at least two voices in an Irish Parliament, precisely identical in personnel.  Ulster Unionism presents a similar solidarity.