I was in France during the period of intrigue which followed, leading up to the displacement of Mr. Asquith.  When the change occurred, members of Parliament who were serving were recalled by special summons.  I found Redmond in these days profoundly impressed with the strength of Mr. Lloyd George’s personal position.  He was convinced that the new Premier could, if he chose, force a settlement of the Irish difficulty, and was very hopeful of this happening.  Sir Edward Carson dared not, he thought, set himself in opposition; at this moment the Ulster party was not popular, while there was in the House a widespread feeling that Redmond in particular had been treated in a manner far other than his due.  Another of his brother’s interventions in debate gave an impetus to this sympathy.

Again in a thin House, during some discussion on Estimates, Willie Redmond got up and spoke out of the fullness of experiences which had profoundly affected his imagination.  He told the House of what he had seen in Flanders, where the two Irish Divisions had at last been brought into contact, so that the left of the Ulster line in front of Ploegstreet touched the right of ours in front of Kemmel.  It had always been said that the two factions would fly at each other’s throats:  by a score of happy detailed touches the soldier built up a picture of what had actually happened in the line and behind the line, and then summed it up in a conclusion: 

“They came together in the trenches and they were friends.  Get them together on the floor of an Assembly, or where you will, in Ireland, and a similar result will follow.”

Then, from this theme, he passed to one even more moving—­the fate of Irish Nationalists, who were confronted daily with evil news of their own land.  “It is miserable to see men who went out with high hearts and hopes, who have acquitted themselves so well, filled with wretchedness because their country is in an unhappy condition.”  He appealed for a new and genuine attempt to set all this right; and he eulogized once more with warm eloquence the conduct of the troops, Ulstermen and the rest alike.  Raw lads, who eighteen months before had never thought of seeing war, had come in before his eyes bringing prisoners by the hundreds from the most highly trained soldiery in Europe.

Man after man, when Willie Redmond had ended, rose and thanked him; but the most notable words came from Mr. Bonar Law: 

“His name and his action, in connection with that of the leader of his party, stand out as a landmark for all the people of this country as to what is being done by those who represent Nationalist feeling.”

All this increased Redmond’s hopes of what might be expected from the new Premier, the representative of another small nationality, whose early days in Parliament had linked him almost more closely with Irish Nationalists than with British Liberalism.  I was on the upper bench when Mr. Lloyd George came in, amid loud cheering.  “Look at him,” said Willie Redmond (his senior in the House by ten years), who sat beside me:  “It seems only the other day he was sitting over here cheering like mad for the Boers; and there he is now, Prime Minister.”