ster sat down amid absolute silence. The tremendous
possibilities which he had summed up in his brief speech seemed to have
stunned his hearers for the time being. Some members said afterwards
that they could hear their own watches ticking. Then Mr John Redmond,
the Leader of the Irish Nationalist Party, rose and said, in a slow, and
deliberate voice, which contrasted strikingly with his usual style of
oratory:

"Sir, this is not a time for what has been with a certain amount of
double-meaning described as Parliamentary speeches. Still less is it a
time for party or for racial differences. The silence in which this
House has received the speech of the Prime Minister is the most eloquent
tribute that could be paid to the solemnity of his utterances. But, sir,
I have a reason for calling attention to one omission in that speech, an
omission which may have been made purposely. The last time that a
foeman's foot trod British soil was not eight hundred years ago. It was
in December 1796 that French soldiers and sailors landed on the shores
of Bantry Bay. Sir, the Ireland of those days was discontented, and, if
you please to call it so, disloyal. There are those who say she is so
now, but, sir, whatever our domestic difficulties and quarrels may be,
and however much I and the party which I have the honour to lead may
differ from the home policy of the Right Honourable gentleman who has
made this momentous pronouncement, it shall not be said that any of
those difficulties or differences will be taken advantage of by any man
who is worth the name of Irishman.

"As the Prime Minister has told us, the thunder of the enemy's guns may
even now be echoing along our southern coasts. We have, I hope, learnt a
little wisdom on both sides of the Irish Sea during the last twenty
years, and this time, sir, I think I can promise that, while the guns
are talking, there shall be no sound of dispute on party matters in
this House as far as we are concerned. From this moment, the Irish
Nationalist Party, as such, ceases to exist, at any rate until the war's
over.

"In 1796, the French fleet carrying the invading force was scattered
over the seas by one of the worst storms that ever was known on the west
coast of Ireland. As Queen Elizabeth's medal said of the Spanish Armada,
'God blew, and they were scattered.' With God's help, sir, we will
scatter these new enemies who threaten us with invasion and conquest.
Henceforth, there must be no mo