The silence that enveloped the whole of Ireland on Saturday drifted in across the village of Killala in Co Mayo at 3.10, about the exact time 200 years ago that Gen Humbert and his men were coming ashore on Kilcummin strand. Some moments before in the Golden Acres pub, hung with pictures and memorabilia of '98, the silence began to take hold.
A hush fell on a group of musicians whose rebel melodies had been echoing out. In a room where the students of the Humbert Summer School were gathered for a final meal conversation faded to a whisper, then stopped.
Outside, Killala became one with the rest of the country in the pervading stillness. The quietness crept through the streets of the village and was barely disturbed by the faint sound coming from below of the waves breaking on the level sands of Kilcummin.
Before all grew silent, the Right Rev Richard Henderson, Bishop of Tuam, Killala and Achonry, spoke to the people in the pub.
He said: "Somewhere in the centre of what we do this afternoon at 3.10 there is and there will remain an unspoken language, a language that needs no words, a language of silence, focused imaginative silence, communicating volumes.
"I believe it is inhabited by the Holy Spirit of God who is and who must be part of our process of reconciliation and healing, part of the peace process itself.
"As the psalmist says, in the midst of terror and warring turmoil `be still and know that I am God.' He talked about remembrance, which could be sweet or bittersweet or terrible as in the agonising past week.
"We feel it together, obviously not in all its savage local intensity, but we feel it highly emotionally . . . It hurts us, making us weep. Today Ireland weeps in rivers of grief. It's a sign of our humanity, and - dare I say it? - it contains the seeds of hope."