Writing now, as I hope I may write without offence, of a state of things not far off in time, but divided from us of to-day by the marks of a vast upheaval, it can be said that the old professional Army was a society governed in an extraordinary degree by tradition.  Part of that tradition was that the Army had no politics; and as everyone knows, the man who says he has no politics is in practice almost invariably a Conservative.  In the Army, usage was at its strongest—­stronger even than at a public school; it was almost bad manners, “bad form,” to hold political opinions differing from those of your mess.  Political discussion was sharply discouraged; but this never meant that a man might not express vehemently the prevailing opinion.  On the broad facts it was inevitable that the prevailing opinion should be unfriendly to Irish Nationalists.  Irish Nationalists had taken passionately the line of opposition to the South African War; they had been sharply critical of all the minor campaigns in which the Army had been engaged for repression or for conquest during the whole period since Parnell began his leadership.  In Ireland itself, every man who reflected for a moment saw at the Curragh the very embodiment of that force which had maintained for over a hundred years a Government which had not the consent of the governed; and unless he was one of those who regarded themselves as “England’s faithful garrison in Ireland,” protestations of enthusiasm for the armed forces of the Crown could not be the natural expression of his feelings.

Yet mingled with the Nationalists’ attitude of estrangement from the forces which upheld a detested system of government there was a deep-seated pride in the exploits of Irish troops; and no man ever felt this more strongly than Redmond.  He seldom spoke of the distinguished men he met, but again and again I remember hearing him mention with pleasure some talk over a dinner-table with this or that famous soldier—­Sir John French (as he then was), for instance.  It was happiness for him to find himself on friendly terms with the service to which so many sentiments bound him.  The Curragh incident was to him more than a grave political event; it pained him beyond measure that this opposition should be headed by a representative of one of the Irish families most famous for their military record.  In the debates which dealt with all this matter he said no word, and he kept our party silent—­a wise course, and one to which every instinct prompted him.

In its political aspect, this action of General Gough and the fifty officers allied with him revealed a new and formidable impediment on the path to Home Rule; yet it was one of those barriers which rally forces rather than weaken them, and in surmounting which, or sweeping them aside, a new impetus may be gained.  The incident was first discussed in the House on Monday, March 23rd, and continued to dominate all other questions for several days.  From the