Noble and good man finds his final peace

At the end of his final journey, Patrick Hillery came to rest on the brow of a gentle hill, where below him the green meadow swept gracefully down towards the sun-sparkled waves forming frills along Dollymount Strand.
They weren't the powerful Atlantic waves crashing against the battered cliffs of Kilkee or the rocky outcrops of Spanish Point in his native county Clare, but it was overlooking this piece of coastline in St Fintan's cemetery in Sutton, that the late Uachtarain na hEireann chose to be buried yesterday.
In a quiet spot between two pretty sycamore trees, Paddy Hillery was laid to rest according to his wish beside his daughter Vivienne, who died in 1987 at the age of 17.
The cortege had taken longer than scheduled to arrive at the graveyard, but the crowd of about 200 who had come to pay their respects were content to wait under bright sunshine, which cast a weak warmth over the exposed hillside as the biting wind faded to a breeze.
At 3.15pm, the cortege arrived, played in by the army band. The two ceremonies at the Pro-Cathedral -- the removal on Tuesday and the funeral mass yesterday -- may have emphasised the family aspect of his life, but Paddy Hillery's burial with full military honours was a more formal recognition of the statesman.
Lament
It was a carefully co-ordinated ceremony; a short distance from the graveside, the Tricolour-draped coffin was removed from the hearse and carried the last few yards by 10 army bearers, led by lone piper Sergeant Kevin Duncan playing a traditional lament.
Behind the coffin, Paddy and Maeve's son John walked hand-in-hand with his wife, Caroline, and behind Mrs Hillery's car, a sombre snake of mourners flowed up the hill, led by President McAleese and her husband Martin, and the Taoiseach.
In silence, the large crowd gathered in a semi-circle around the graveside as the army bearers removed the Irish flag from the coffin and with slow-motion precision folded it and presented it -- green portion facing up as tradition requires -- to Mrs Hillery who accepted it with a quiet word of thanks.
The short burial prayers were conducted by Paddy and Maeve's nephew, Fr Des Hillery, who had flown in from Peru to participate in the funeral. He then invited Brian Cowen to deliver the graveside oration.
The Taoiseach-in-waiting was chosen by the family as he is a friend of John Hillery, but nonetheless the occasion had a significance to it that stretched beyond that of a man paying tribute to the deceased father of a friend.
The last State funeral to pass through the cemetery gates was that of Charles Haughey in 2006, on an unseasonably cold June day.
On that occasion, the graveside oration was delivered by his anointed political heir, Taoiseach Bertie Ahern who gave a passionate defence of his former leader -- a politician who had clashed with then-President Hillery in 1982 over the dissolution of the Dail.
But yesterday Bertie stood with the rest of the mourners, and it was the words of his own anointed heir, Brian Cowen, that carved a picture of Paddy Hillery as a politician, statesman, father, husband, doctor and sailor.
Brian seemed a little nervous at first, but soon found his stride. His tribute was a delicate and eloquent mix of political and personal praise.
He referred to Dr Hillery's role at the outset of what he described as "Northern Ireland's descent into darkness", calling his support of the nationalist community "unflinching".
Referring to the turbulent political years in the Republic, he said: "Ireland and my party Fianna Fail owe him a huge debt for the manner in which he stood four square behind the leadership, behind the Constitution, and what it represented for a still young Republic."
The Tanaiste painted a vivid personal picture of Paddy Hillery also. "He has been variously described as honourable, decent, intelligent, courteous, warm and engaging. He was all of those things," he said. "Dr Patrick Hillery embodied all that is noble and good in a man, a doctor, a politician and public servant."
After the oration, three volleys were fired into the mild spring air. The pomp was over, but from the simple and dignified manner of his departure it was clear that the main image of Paddy Hillery to emerge this week was not that of politician or statesman, but -- as Brian Cowen described in his oration -- "the image of him sailing around Spanish Point heading for the Aran Islands wearing his familiar cap set against the Atlantic breeze".