Enda Kenny (Mayo, Fine Gael)

Fuair mé an scéal ar maidin go bhfuair Cathal Uí Eochaidh, an t-iar-Thaoiseach, bás inniu. Ní mórán Taoiseach a bhí againn sa tír seo, agus ní minic a tharlaíonn sé go mbíonn orainn rud éigin a rá faoi sa Teach seo. Ní féidir linn scéal shaol Chathail Uí Eochaidh, an scéal pearsanta agus polaitiúil, a phlé anseo inniu san am atá againn. Ar ócáid a bháis, ba mhaith liom mo chomhbhrón agus comhbhrón Pháirtí Fhine Gael a chur in iúl dá bhean chéile, Maureen, agus dá chlann ar fad, Seán, atá ina Theachta Dála, Conor, Eimear agus Ciarán.

Today is a sad day in the House and this country. It is fair to say that in myriad ways, Ireland feels the passing of Charles J. Haughey. We may have been on opposing sides in here, but I had a particular connection with Mr. Haughey, as it was my grandaunt who delivered him into this world in Castlebar 80 years ago despite the various perceptions of where he was actually born.

In his final words in the House as Taoiseach, Mr. Haughey quoted from "Othello" when he said he did the State some service. Today, his admirers and adversaries agree that, indeed, he did. Charles Haughey made an enormous contribution to the State, arts, business, European and Northern Ireland affairs and life in this country. His ministerial career sparked many innovations and considerable reform. In the House, he was a formidable opponent of prodigious intellect and a gifted debater, as many on this side and the Government side can testify. Two weeks ago, Members who were not here during his time had an indication of a flavour of riveting politics when the House debated issues of real concern. This is how it was during the Haughey years week in, week out. Whether in Government or Opposition and whether one liked or agreed with his statements, they could never be overlooked.

Charles Haughey was as respected abroad as he was controversial at home. He had close working relationships with then Chancellor Kohl, then President Mitterand and then Italian Prime Minister Andreotti. I remember quite vividly that during some intense Northern Ireland negotiations, someone commented on how in Mr. Haughey's presence, the Iron Lady herself, Mrs. Thatcher, became positively skittish. It was something that might have appealed to his pride and his legendary black sense of humour.

On the day of his death, it is fair and right to say Charles Haughey was, in his time, a dominant and outstanding figure in Irish politics in terms of intellect and ambition. He was also mercurial to the degree that he was in many ways a perfect contradiction, with an ability to be both charming and quite ruthless in a heartbeat. Anyone summoned to his presence did not forget the occasion quickly.

They say that to live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die. In the hearts of his family and friends and in those of many within Fianna Fáil, Charles Haughey will live on in a real way as a husband, father, grandfather, trusted confidant and someone deeply loved, respected and sadly missed. Today, our hearts are with them as they mourn their loss.

In the coming days and weeks, there will be much discussion about Charles Haughey the politician and there will be the opportunity for those who wish to do so to dissect and analyse the ups and downs of his political career. However, on the day of his death, I want to talk about Mr. Haughey the man. Anyone here or in the country who has had troubles in his or her life knows that often we do not realise how strong people really are until we see them at their weakest moments. Regardless of how people felt about Charles Haughey politically, anyone with even the vaguest sense of our shared humanity could see that he bore his humiliations with dignity, courage and a deep personal pain.

The Celtic tradition with which Charles Haughey felt so aligned says that at the time of death, the full embrace of the soul gathers around us. It does not leave abruptly. Rather, it takes its leave slowly. Today of all days, as Charles Haughey leaves one life to begin another, I am sure his slow leave-taking will include this building where he lived the many highs and lows of political life for more than a quarter century and over which the tricolour flies at half mast.

I have quoted before the famous poem by John O'Donoghue, Beannacht, which, for the sailor, is appropriate:

When the canvas frays in the curach of thought

And a stain of ocean blackens beneath you,

May there come across the waters

A path of yellow moonlight

To bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

May the clarity of light be yours,

May the fluency of the ocean be yours,

May the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow wind work these words of love around you

An invisible cloak to mind your life.

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