The words that nobody thought they would ever hear from the mouth of the Rev Ian Paisley came at 12 minutes past noon. “We have agreed with Sinn Fein,” he said.

Hardened hacks, gathered around a television screen that was carrying live coverage of the first meeting between the Democratic Unionist leader and Gerry Adams, the Sinn Fein president, were just getting over the shock of it when Mr Paisley said them again. “We have agreed with Sinn Fein.” Fourteen minutes past twelve.

To say that it was a surprise to see the two dinosaurs of Northern Ireland’s intractable argument sitting within handshaking distance of one another, each listening respectfully to what the other had to say, would be an understatement.

The atmosphere inside Stormont was electric. Nobody was upset or angry. Faces wore beatific smiles. It was as if a heavy stone had suddenly been lifted from their backs.

The Province normally has an inexhaustible supply of cynicism. But for once people were robbed of the ability to cap what they had just witnessed with a mocking remark.

If it came as a surprise that Mr Paisley agreed to have the encounter filmed live, this would be to underestimate his political skills. It was a bold initiative, designed to get the DUP over the political Rubicon of “never sitting down with terrorists” — the cornerstone of its policy for the past 40 years — and the faster the better. Mr Paisley’s hardliners now have six weeks to get used to the idea that from now on the man they always trusted never to sell them out will be treating his Sinn Fein counterparts as political equals.

And if Mr Paisley found the occasion unsavoury or awkward he was the master of his emotions — he stumbled only once as he read out a prepared statement, turning “overwhelmingly” into “overwimminly”.

He emphasised the democratic mandate which this month’s Assembly elections had given him to go into government with Sinn Fein, speaking of the “very significant advances for the Unionist people” that, he said, his party had secured in “this part of the United Kingdom”.

The meeting with Mr Adams and a Sinn Fein group that included two convicted terrorists — Martin McGuinness, soon to be Mr Paisley’s deputy, and Conor Murphy — had been “a constructive engagement”. He promised regular meetings with Mr McGuinness in the run-up to May 8, when devolution is restored to the executive that he will lead as First Minister.

Mr Paisley recalled the “long and difficult time” that the Province had come through and then uttered these most telling words: “We must not allow our justified loathing of the horrors and tragedies of the past to become a barrier to creating a better and more stable future.

“In looking to that future we must never forget those who have suffered during the dark period from which we are, please God, emerging.”

Mr Adams would usually have snorted in derision at the description of his land as part of the UK. Yesterday, he desisted — but as if to make the point that each side must now agree to disagree he spoke several short phrases in Irish Gaelic, a language foreign to Mr Paisley.

He also wore an Easter Lily pinned to his lapel, a Republican emblem commemorating those who died in the 1916 Easter Rising.

Mr Adams spoke of centuries of conflict between “the people of this island” and “the sad history of orange and green”, for once airbrushing “the Brits” out of the picture in a clear recognition that reconciliation can only be achieved locally.

He, too, invoked the Almighty, saying: “There is now a new start, with the help of God.”

When the broadcast ended the camera panned heavenwards and then swooped down, going to black. For a moment it was as though the cameraman had fainted, unable to believe what he had just recorded.

A few moments later Mr Paisley emerged on to the marble landing above the Great Hall where the press was gathered. Spotting a friendly face, he leant forward, beaming, and boomed: “Nice to see you! Have you two eyes in your head!” Then with a cheery wave he was off. Probably not for lunch with his new political partners, but who knows.

Times Recommends

• How I lost the gift of joy for a while
• Why Ann Widdecombe has got it wrong
• Alas, it’s the end of the road for petrolheads