between England and Germany he took the Irish case, weighty with eight
centuries of history and tradition, and he threw it out of the window.
He pledged Ireland to a particular course of action, and he had no
authority to give this pledge and he had no guarantee that it would be
met. The ramshackle intelligence of his party and his own emotional
nature betrayed him and us and England. He swore Ireland to loyalty as
if he had Ireland in his pocket, and could answer for her. Ireland has
never been disloyal to England, not even at this epoch, because she has
never been loyal to England, and the profession of her National faith
has been unwavering, has been known to every English person alive, and
has been clamant to all the world beside.

Is it that he wanted to be cheered? He could very easily have stated
Ireland's case truthfully, and have proclaimed a benevolent neutrality
(if he cared to use the grandiloquent words) on the part of this
country. He would have gotten his cheers, he would in a few months have
gotten Home Rule in return for Irish soldiers. He would have received
politically whatever England could have safely given him. But, alas,
these carefulnesses did not chime with his emotional moment. They were
not magnificent enough for one who felt that he was talking not to
Ireland or to England, but to the whole gaping and eager earth, and so
he pledged his country's credit so deeply that he did not leave her even
one National rag to cover herself with.

After a lie truth bursts out, and it is no longer the radiant and
serene goddess knew or hoped for--it is a disease, it is a moral
syphilis and will ravage until the body in which it can dwell has been
purged. Mr. Redmond told the lie and he is answerable to England for the
violence she had to be guilty of, and to Ireland for the desolation to
which we have had to submit. Without his lie there had been no