But, while Mr. Redmond had been losing ground, the influence of the Catholic Bishop of Raphoe had been on the increase, and that able and astute prelate was entirely opposed to the compromise on which Mr. Redmond and Lord Midleton were agreed.  On the evening of the 14th of January it came to the knowledge of Mr. Redmond that when the question came up for decision next day, he would find Mr. Devlin, his principal lieutenant, in league with the ecclesiastics against him.  He was personally too far committed to retrace his steps; to go forward meant disaster, for it would produce a deep cleavage in the Nationalist ranks; and, as the state of affairs was generally known to members of the Convention, the sitting of the following day was anticipated with unusual interest.

There was an atmosphere of suppressed excitement when the Chairman took his seat on the 15th.  Mr. Redmond entered a few seconds later and took his usual place without betraying the slightest sign of disturbed equanimity.  The Bishop of Raphoe strode past him, casting to left and right swift, challenging glances.  Mr. Devlin slipped quietly into his seat beside the leader he had thrown over, without a word or gesture of greeting.  All over the room small groups of members engaged in whispered conversation; an air of mysterious expectancy prevailed.  The Ulster members had been threatened that it was to be for them a day of disaster and dismay—­a little isolated group, about to be deserted by friends and crushed by enemies.  The Chairman, in an agitated voice, opened proceedings by inviting questions.  There was no response.  A minute or so of tense pause ensued.  Then Mr. Redmond rose, and in a perfectly even voice and his usual measured diction, stated that he was aware that his proposal was repudiated by many of his usual followers; that the bishops were against him, and some leading Nationalists, including Mr. Devlin; that, while he believed if he persisted he would have a majority, the result would be to split his party, a thing he wished to avoid; and that he had therefore decided not to proceed with his amendment, and under these circumstances felt he could be of no further use to the Convention in the matter.

For a minute or two the assembly could not grasp the full significance of what had happened.  Then it broke upon them that this was the fall of a notable leader, although they did not yet know that it was also the close of a distinguished career.  Mr. Redmond’s demeanour throughout what must have been a painful ordeal was beyond all praise.  There was not a quiver in his voice, nor a hesitation for word or phrase.  His self-possession and dignity and high-bred bearing won the respect and sympathy of the most strenuous of political opponents, even while they recognised that the defeat of the Nationalist leader meant relief from pressure on themselves.  Mr. Redmond took no further part in the work of the Convention; his health was failing, and the members were startled by the news of his death on the 6th of March.