people drunk, by saying that there were a number of bedrooms at
Hatfield, but they never made him sleepy. Because of this it is possible
to forgive him for having talked about "living and dying nations":
though it is of such sayings that living nations die. In the same spirit
he included the nation of Ireland in the "Celtic fringe" upon the west
of England. It seems sufficient to remark that the fringe is
considerably broader than the garment. But the fearful satire of time
has very sufficiently avenged the Irish nation upon him, largely by the
instrumentality of another fragment of the British robe which he cast
away almost contemptuously in the North Sea. The name of it is
Heligoland; and he gave it to the Germans.

The subsequent history of the two islands on either side of England has
been sufficiently ironical. If Lord Salisbury had foreseen exactly what
would happen to Heligoland, as well as to Ireland, he might well have
found no sleep at Hatfield in one bedroom or a hundred. In the eastern
isle he was strengthening a fortress that would one day be called upon
to destroy us. In the western isle he was weakening a fortress that
would one day be called upon to save us. In that day his trusted ally,
William Hohenzollern, was to batter our ships and boats from the Bight
of Heligoland; and in that day his old and once-imprisoned enemy, John
Redmond, was to rise in the hour of English jeopardy, and be thanked in
thunder for the free offer of the Irish sword. All that Robert Cecil
thought valueless has been our loss, and all that he thought feeble our
stay. Among those of his political class or creed who accepted and
welcomed the Irish leader's alliance, there were some who knew the real
past relations between England and Ireland, and some who first felt
them in that hour. All knew that England could no longer be a mere
mistress; many knew that she was now in some sense a suppliant. Some
knew that she deserved to be a suppliant. These were they who knew a