The output of purely political literature on the Irish problem has been increasing during the past few years, and there is room for a book which aims at focussing attention upon some aspects of it which the mere politician is apt to pass lightly over or to ignore altogether.  Like most of Mr Kettle’s work, the book bears the impress of his individuality, and, to many of his readers, this will constitute much of its charm and merit.  At the same time, in order to prevent misunderstanding, it is necessary for me to state that I do not commit myself to acceptance or endorsement of everything which the book contains.  I content myself with stating, from personal experience, that nothing which Mr Kettle writes about Ireland can fail to be worthy of notice by everyone interested in the Home Rule controversy, and that I believe the circulation of this volume will serve to stimulate thought about Ireland, and so to hasten the advent of that brighter day when the grant of full self-government to Ireland will reveal to England the open secret of making Ireland her friend and helpmate, the brightest jewel in her crown of Empire.

J. E. Redmond.

12th December, 1911.

PRELIMINARY

After an intermission of nearly twenty years Ireland once again blocks the way.  “Finally rejected” by the House of Commons and the English electorate in 1886, “finally rejected” by the House of Lords in 1893, the Home Rule idea has not only survived but waxed stronger in the wilderness.  Time and events have altered its shape only to clothe it with a richer significance.

Will Great Britain decide wisely in the choice to which she is now put?  Naturally, I do not speak of the Parliamentary future of the Home Rule Bill:  that is safe.  I have in mind rather that profound moral settlement, that generous reconciliation which we have seen in South Africa, and desire to see in Ireland.  What of it?  Did reason and the candid vision of things, as they are, control public affairs, there could be little doubt as to the issue in this choice between friendship and hatred, between the formula of freedom and that of domination.  But, unhappily, we have no assurance that Philip sober rather than Philip drunk will sign the warrant.  There exists in England, in respect of all things Irish, a monstrous residuum of prejudice.  It lies ambushed in the blood even when it has been dismissed from the mind, and constitutes the real peril of the situation.  No effort will be spared to reawaken it.  The motto of militant Unionism has always been:  When in doubt throw mud.  Such a programme naturally begets a predilection for ditches, and when certain orators speak of the “last ditch” they must be taken to mean that which has most mud in it.  The old methods are already once more in operation.  The wicked lying of previous campaigns no doubt cannot be repeated:  bigotry will make no further experiments in Pigottry.  But a resolute