On Sunday, August 13th, 1913, a carriage rumbled through huge crowds of strikers in Dublin's O'Connell Street and stopped outside William Martin Murphy's Imperial Hotel. Police were so busy keeping the strikers at bay that they didn't pay much attention when an elderly clergyman and some insignificant women clambered out.
Minutes later, the clergyman appeared on a balcony above street level, threw off his robes and there he was, large as life, Big Jim Larkin himself. The crowd roared, police drew their batons and 478 people were injured in the riot that followed. Two civilians died.
Big Jim was practically singing in the rain last Thursday when nursing unions staged a massive protest there. The heavens opened on his outstretched hands. No baton charges, no injuries, but a moment of history all the same. Ten thousand workers with massive public support.
You can't characterise the nurses' strike as a rebellion exactly, but it is surprising how little Government looks concerned about the scale of public support they've won. The support isn't only because we have all been sick at some time and were grateful for the care. Or because of the perceived unfairness in the way that nurses and healthcare have been sidelined. It is the voice of middle Ireland saying loud and clear that they are mad as hell, and ready to shout about it. It will survive the end of this nurses' strike, which might still come around next weekend.
What's happened is that the apathy about politics and political manoeuvring reflected in successive referendums and elections has been galvanised into a loose but nonetheless substantial statement of dissent. Middle Ireland is identifying with the nurses because it feels overlooked; left-leaning Ireland agrees. Comparable public disgust hasn't been manifest since the days of the 1980s, when factories like Dunlops in Cork were closing down while politicians grew spare tyres in fancy restaurants.
So when Government takes what various commentators term a "macho posturing" approach, the Cabinet and Fianna Fail might ask themselves what the party has to gain by so wholeheartedly embracing the dogmas of the right. Saving the partnership process is a legitimate objective, although it is patently clear that evolutionary forces must change that process for the sake of long-term industrial relations. That is not enough to explain why this Government, and Bertie Ahern in particular, are losing their legendary common touch.
If you were to make a docu-drama about the Great Lock-Out, for example, Bertie Ahern was on the face of it the last person you'd cast to play the Lord Lieutenant. But you have to wonder if he is now seriously canvassing for the role. His policies on a range of issues - including the nurses' dispute - have distanced ordinary people even further from the political process.
If Mr Ahern has taken his eye off the ball, it may be that he is as worried as he ought to be by the combined impact of the tribunals and in particular by the hair-raising evidence about the use of the former leaders' account.
Other events have widened the distance between people and politics, too. The complete mishandling of public opinion over joining PfP antagonised many more people than it ought. One transparent referendum and he could have achieved the same outcome without making people suspicious as to his motives.
The McEvaddy affair, or specifically his Ministers' belief that they are above the codes of conduct they themselves drew up, did not help. Neither do deeper policies which maintain the centralised power-structure of decision-making about regional development and infrastructures.
So far, his Government has created no initiatives that might respond even in part to the various reports calling for devolution of power to regional level, which could encourage a deeper penetration of the democratic process. Add the daily frustrations of thousands of citizens on matters from childcare to hospital waiting lists and the public move to identify with the nurses as underdogs starts to make sense.
Mr Ahern could lose the genuine trust many people place in him, even if he has so far deflected their disgust on to Brian Cowen, at present surely the least popular politician south of the Border. He may, of course, believe that is impossible. He may be keeping his eye on one ball only, which is his own political and popular survival.
But his place in the history books will depend on how he turns the current economic upsurge into a new society for us all. Events like this strike, and the palpable public disgust it mobilises, will hardly persuade reluctant international investors to change their mind about buying Irish stocks.
A point comes when no matter how many photo-opportunities you take with The Corrs, vision actually starts to matter. The only vision you can see from our Taoiseach over the last few months is that of Erin as the new Lottoland, where he keeps thinking that if he gets the numbers right, the politics will look after itself. There are no great events in Northern Ireland to help him underline his leadership and vision, as in the past.
With the soccer and rugby teams faltering, there are no major public spectacles either to help him reassert himself as the icon of the common man.
Numbers do matter, of course. The potential political energy revealed by such support for this strike could be tapped by entrepreneurial politicians. But Ahern's trump card is the quality of opposition provided by Fine Gael and Labour.
The Dail should be in uproar at the moment. Sit in the visitors' gallery and you'll be amazed at how supine most of the Opposition benches have become. Catering for the small majority of citizens whose vote is making them smug, Fine Gael appears to agree with Government policy on most issues, while new Labour might more aptly be termed Latte Labour, given the cappuccino-style delivery of its assaults.
However less sure-footed our Taoiseach has become, the business of Government rolls on, with all save the occasional maverick happy to stick to consensus. Now is the winter of our discontent, but let's not worry: they reckon it will evaporate by spring. Goodbye Erin, hello Lottoland.
Medb Ruane can be contacted at mruane@irish-times.ie