THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 
 IRISH WAR
 
 (Photo : Claude /turn's 1924 Ltd.) 
 DARRELL FIGGIS
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 
 
 IRISH WAR 
 
 DARRELL FIGGIS 
 
 GARDEN CITY NEW YORK 
 
 DOUBLEDAY,DORAN & COMPANY, INC.
 
 
 DA 
 
 PUBLISHER'S NOTE 
 
 DARRELL FIGGIS died on the 27th of Odober, 1925. 
 The manuscript of " Recollections of the Irish 
 War" was written, as far as can be traced, in 1921 
 to 1922. 
 
 The book gives the author's personal impressions of 
 those outstanding personalities on both sides of the Irish 
 Channel who figured as protagonists in that long conflict 
 for Irish Independence from the founding of the Irish 
 Volunteers in 1913 to the truce in July, 1921, which led to 
 the establishment of the Free State Government. 
 
 Darrell Figgis himself played an important and adven- 
 turous part in these events. As a man of letters and a 
 skilled observer of affairs he was peculiarly fitted to 
 become the chronicler of this remarkable phase in Irish 
 history.
 
 CONTENTS 
 publisher's note v 
 
 CHAPTER III. - 
 
 Two Fateful Sundays 
 
 CHAPTER IV. - 
 
 The European War 
 
 PACK 
 
 CHAPTER I. - - . ,j 
 
 Arms and Men 
 
 CHAPTER II. - - _ - 21 
 
 German Rifles 
 
 40 
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER V. - - _ - 82 
 
 Easier Week: A Chapter in Parenthesis 
 
 CHAPTER VI. - _ . . II2 
 
 Easier Week: A Chapter in Parenthesis 
 (continued) 
 
 CHAPTER VII. - - . . . J., 
 
 My First Arrest 
 
 • • 
 
 Vll
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. ----- 172 
 
 The Whirlwind Campaign, 1917-1918 
 
 chapter ix. - - - - 195 
 
 The " German Plot " and its Consequences 
 
 chapter x. - - - - 223 
 
 The Declaration of the Republic of Ireland 
 
 chapter xi. - - - - 252 
 
 Fencing for Position in the War 
 
 chapter xii. ----- 282 
 
 War 
 
 vin
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE 
 IRISH WAR
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 §i 
 
 T* VEN in Ireland, folk in thinking of the war that 
 J ended in the establishment by International Treaty 
 
 of the Free State go back no further than the Easier 
 Rising of 1916. Little wonder that this way of thought 
 should prevail outside Ireland. Life, however, does not 
 work in this fashion. History, which is the record of Life, 
 reveals a far-reaching series of connected causes and 
 effects, difficult to disconnect into the trim order that 
 the unimaginative mind requires. To follow any part 
 of that record, from whatever personal standpoint it be 
 seen, with understanding and interest, it is necessary, 
 therefore, briefly to note the framework into which it 
 is set. 
 
 The Easter Rising of 191 6 reaches back through two 
 personalities to older events. Noble minds planned that 
 Rising as an heroic gesture of sacrifice. Other minds, 
 not less noble, held aloof because they saw no justification 
 for it on military or political grounds. But of them all 
 two (one on each side) connected that event, and the causes 
 that immediately produced it, with earlier history. These 
 two therefore are specially significant. 
 
 The first of them is Arthur Griffith. He held aloof; 
 but he took the Rising back to the fall of Parnell. On 
 
 B
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 him the creative mantle of Parnell fell invisibly; and 
 none saw it about his shoulders till nearly the end of his 
 days. There is an ancient tradition that to eat bitter 
 fruit is to cleanse and strengthen the vision; and there is 
 warrant for the tradition in the life of Arthur Griffith. 
 The desertion of Parnell, and his death, were bitter fruit 
 for the young Griffith, then a member of Parnell's 
 organizing committee; and to the end of his days one 
 could see that Griffith was wary and prepared for any 
 disaster, was never wholly confident of, never unre- 
 servedly committed to, the winds that blew him to power. 
 To the last he was ready to turn and face unpopularity; 
 but the immediate result was to send him to South Africa, 
 heart-sick, disillusioned. There, and in that mood, he 
 saw that if the Irish people were to be strong they must 
 look for salvation, not to agencies abroad, but to con- 
 structive, recreative work at home. Although he did not 
 believe in the Tightness of the Easter Rising, he believed in 
 the Tightness of physical force if necessary for the attain- 
 ment of freedom, and he was one of the first to join 
 the Irish Volunteers in 1913. Arthur Griffith was 
 supremely a man with a national philosophy, and that 
 philosophy brought down from the days of Parnell's 
 fall a stubborn doctrine of self-reliance, without the 
 teaching of which it is not easy to conceive of Easter 
 Week. 
 
 The second of these two is Tom Clarke. His was, 
 perhaps, the pure, lineal descent. Tom Clarke had him- 
 self spent over fifteen years in penal servitude. There, 
 as he subsequently wrote, his precept was : " Clinch your 
 teeth hard and never say die." A man of unconquerable 
 
 2
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 mind, he took the Rising back to the Fenian faith of 
 the Sixties, to the men who with pikes and shot-guns, 
 and stubborn, undefeated faith, went out on the snow- 
 clad hills of Tipperary in February, 1867, to fight an 
 empire. From the moment of his release he spent his 
 days preparing for the event that brought his life to a 
 close. He took no part in political movements, judging 
 them to be deceptive and corruptive. Knowing the 
 future to be with youth, he gathered young men about 
 him, taught them his simple creed of an ultimate appeal 
 to arms, and waited to will that event when Time should 
 bring it to his hand. 
 
 The two causes are seen to merge in one when it is 
 remembered that it was the same Fenian faith that had 
 given Parnell his strength. Thus the war of the past 
 few years is folded into, becomes part of, an older, larger 
 pattern. It is unnecessary to remember this. It was 
 impossible to have taken any part in it without being 
 perpetually reminded of that fact. The simplest, ordin- 
 ary committee-meeting in some distant country town 
 would suddenly be brought to tensity by an old man 
 rising in a corner and giving the new faith his blessing. 
 What that meant none can fully appreciate but diose who 
 know Irish life and history, for in that blessing continuity 
 was established and the new faith was confirmed of its 
 antiquity and its authority. 
 
 All this is true; and it is necessary to understand it. 
 Frequent, unsuspected reminders of it will shine from 
 the most casual incidents like light from the sides of a 
 crystal. Yet it is also true that the new war was a 
 separate phase of the older war. It flamed to a height 
 
 3
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 never known before, and became, indeed, a beacon to the 
 world. It had its own character, method, and associa- 
 tions. It had its own men and women. It had its own 
 distinct psychology. Indeed, it critically changed the 
 whole national psychology, bringing a new breed to birth 
 in Ireland, in many ways obviously, in other ways subtly 
 different from those that had preceded. And in the 
 doing of these things it had its own beginning. That 
 beginning was not the Easter Rising of 1916, but the 
 establishment of the Irish Volunteers in the autumn 
 of 1913. 
 
 §2 
 
 It is unnecessary to relate in any detail how the Irish 
 Volunteers first came into being; but to be able to 
 follow the story it is necessary to remember the main 
 facts of their foundation. In every good tale the end 
 is in die beginning, and life is a tale-teller of acknow- 
 ledged accomplishment. 
 
 In 1913 the Irish people had long forgotten the use 
 of arms. They had been well schooled for a generation 
 not to think outside political agitation. For many years 
 that agitation plucked wry fruit for the nation; and 
 then Griffith with Sinn Fein, and Douglas Hyde with the 
 Gaelic League, had turned its thoughts to prospect of 
 better orchards at home. Then a few swift turns in 
 political events in England changed the picture. The 
 political agitation, with the Parliamentary Party at its 
 head, gathered together its strength again; and the 
 coming of Home Rule seemed to justify all that had been 
 hoped of it or, if not all, certainly a measure of those 
 
 4
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 hopes; and by 1913 expectation had learned not to be too 
 ambitious. 
 
 At that moment the nation saw a great Irishman arise 
 to snatch the poor measure they had thought within 
 their grasp. The manner of the threat was what sur- 
 prised them most. The success of Sir Edward Carson 
 was that he spun his ashplant in defiance of the rules of 
 the very game Irishmen had so carefully been taught. 
 Had not their fathers been put in gaol for drilling and 
 arming and defying the Mother of Parliaments? But 
 now here was he, former Law Officer of the Crown and 
 Privy Councillor to boot, exhorting Irishmen to drill, 
 pledging himself to arm them, and making every sound 
 and sign of calculated, unmistakable disrespect: towards the 
 august assembly to which they had sent their representa- 
 tives. Small wonder that at first they were baffled and 
 angry, but they recovered slowly yet resentfully, for there 
 were some to help the recovery. 
 
 It was for just such an hour that Tom Clarke had 
 waited — he and his band of young men. Patiently he 
 had waited, asking nothing for himself, prepared to pass 
 on to another generation the secret sign of his tradition, 
 but ready, too, if necessary, to write the sign publicly with 
 the sacrifice of his own life. Odd, how Life transposes 
 the parts men think to play on the world's stage ! Little 
 did the high and delicate who organized armies in 1913, 
 and spake great words, and breathed threatenings, 
 think of a worn, grey man in a little tobacconist's shop off 
 O'Connell Street who was waiting for the opportunity 
 they gave him to overturn their own world. They would 
 not have stepped within his shop to buy a daily paper 
 
 5
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 or a packet of cigarettes. Yet it was for them he was 
 waiting. And it was they who brought the opportunity 
 to his hand, enabling his spirit to ride the storm they 
 had awoken. 
 
 The impossible had come to pass. Under the most 
 august patronage, and beneath the wing of an un- 
 impugnable aristocracy, Irishmen could now enrol them- 
 selves in armies, and drill to their hearts' content. The 
 plans were therefore carefully laid. The proposal was 
 made to Professor Eoin MacNeill that he should call a 
 meeting at the Rotunda. Eoin MacNeill was Professor 
 of Ancient Irish History at the National University, and 
 Vice-President of the Gaelic League, a man of great 
 erudition and one of the leading research historians of 
 his day. In many ways he was an ideal man to take the 
 ostensible headship of the new movement. His integrity, 
 the respect he inspired, his very touch of pedagogy 
 (ancient Irish history, too !), gave an opportunity for the 
 movement to gather way with the least possible friction, 
 while Tom Clarke continued to sell unassuming cigarettes 
 and still more unassuming journals that ran current 
 among a few. 
 
 So, in October, 1913, a Provisional Committee was 
 formed, from which a declaration of policy was published, 
 calling a public meeting for the 25th of November, " to 
 commence the enrolment of Irish Volunteers." The hall 
 held 7,000 people, but when the doors were closed, there 
 were as many outside as within. The new thought from 
 the north had struck a responsive note in the south. Un- 
 questionably there was in this awakening much of an 
 answer to a challenge from the north; but this the leaders 
 
 6
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 were careful to remove. Of these leaders the most con- 
 spicuous were Eoin MacNeill and Sir Roger Casement; 
 and both these men, in addressing meetings in different 
 parts of the country, insisted always that the Irish Volun- 
 teers were in no sense opponents, that they were 
 rather comrades, of the Ulster Volunteers. It is not 
 surprising, perhaps, that this attitude was not always 
 readily understood. Yet in several cities when cheers 
 were called for the men of the north they were given 
 heartily enough, and a new spirit was evoked that, had 
 it been met with a like spirit, might have recast all the 
 history made since that time. 
 
 In truth, a new spirit of comradeship had been created. 
 With however awkward an enthusiasm that comradeship 
 was regarded by the northern exemplars, it was quite 
 genuinely felt in many southern bosoms. That it was 
 also felt among many of the Ulster Volunteers can also 
 be vouched from personal knowledge. And in the south 
 not the least effect was that many who had kept aloof 
 from the not very savoury business that politics had 
 become were now enkindled with a new fire. 
 
 §3 
 
 Such, in briefest outline, was the beginning of the new 
 rising wave that swept forward for eight years, gathering 
 strength, volume, and unity of movement till it included 
 all the nation, and brought the Treaty to triumph — or, 
 as some would say, till it broke on the rock of the Treaty. 
 It was a movement of youth, long overdue — youth, long 
 baffled by sober age; adventure, long thwarted by dis- 
 
 7
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 cretion, and both enkindled by the material ardour with 
 which their chance came. 
 
 Yet it is not history (as history) I am telling, for the 
 time of that telling is not yet. My purpose is rather to 
 gather together, before they are losl: in or falsely coloured 
 by the new period on which we have entered, personal 
 recollections of some of the events created by the new 
 movement, with memories of some of the personalities 
 who figured in it. In order to do this it is necessary 
 that I should turn aside to show how it was that I was 
 gathered into the new movement. 
 
 At that time I knew little of movements in Dublin, 
 and I had few political friends. Born of a family 
 traditionally opposed to Nationalism, I had, however, 
 long believed in Arthur Griffith's doctrine of national 
 self-help, known as Sinn Fein. In common with many 
 others, then, I had never imagined that I would be found 
 in politics. My thought was only for the writer's and song- 
 man's craft, and it was partly chance, partly the 
 inescapable obligation of honour, that brought me into 
 touch with the personalities and made me in some degree 
 a sharer in the events of this last phase of the Irish War. 
 Certainly it was chance that threw me into the adventure 
 by which guns were run through the British blockade and 
 landed at Howth, and the Volunteers in this way 
 equipped as an armed force for the future. 
 
 At that time I was resident in London, but for some 
 years I had been in the habit of spending a good part of 
 each winter in Achill, an island in the Atlantic, oft the 
 west coast of Mayo. There I bore each winter the 
 accumulations of taskwork in London; and a busy life 
 
 8
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 had robbed from a wanderer, whose time was mortgaged 
 to necessity, the opportunity of other than the most casual 
 friendships even in his own native city of Dublin. 
 
 I was in Achill when the news came of the meeting 
 in the Rotunda, and I had no knowledge other than the 
 papers told of what the news might mean. Three months 
 previously Dublin had been the seat of an industrial lock- 
 out that closed the months of summer and passed into 
 the winter. It had been less a lock-out, or strike, than 
 a bitter war between worker and employer that included 
 a great part of the city. Of it Jim Larkin had been the 
 torchbearer and Jim Connolly the mind. At the height 
 of the war Captain J. R. White had come forward with 
 a proposal to drill a workers' army, to be known as the 
 Citizens' Army. Jim Larkin was then in gaol, and Jim 
 Connolly supported the proposal with all his strength. 
 It is strange to remember now (though there seems to 
 have been almost a conspiracy to forget it) that the actual 
 decision to enrol this army was taken in a fellow's 
 chambers in Trinity College, unlikeliest of all places for 
 the quaintest of all ironies. At that meeting some of the 
 gravest citizens of the city had pulled out their cheque- 
 books to contribute for the establishment of this drilled 
 force — a force that was to contribute mightily to the 
 Rising of Easter, 1916. 
 
 At that meeting I had been present, and as I read the 
 news from Dublin my thoughts naturally returned to it. 
 No one who knew Jim Connolly, or had read his 
 writings, had any doubt of the part he expected such a 
 force to play in history. Connolly was one of the master 
 intellects of the Ireland of his time, and a convinced 
 
 9
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Nationalist who believed that all the great movements in 
 Ireland for national independence had been seated in 
 causes more economic than political, and for him there- 
 fore to take part in the organization of a Labour Army 
 meant that he proposed to forge a weapon for future 
 use. In conversation he said little of this; but he was 
 a man who could make his silences in conversation as 
 significant as he could make irony eloquent on a platform, 
 and there was no doubt as to his meaning, for he had 
 long nurtured the thought of an armed national rising 
 with its roots in labour. 
 
 Yet the news in the papers definitely precluded a labour 
 interpretation. In the first place, they spoke of labour 
 opposition at the Rotunda meeting, and in the second 
 place the published Manifesto quite clearly indicated a 
 different sort of force from the existing Citizen Army. 
 What was, at any rate, clear, whatever else was dark and 
 strange, was that a revolutionary change had occurred or 
 was about to occur in Irish affairs, from which it was im- 
 possible to abstain. 
 
 §4 
 
 Therefore, though to move were to move in an un- 
 familiar world, I started at once to organize Volunteers 
 in Achill. It is difficult to-day to realize the spirit of 
 that time. Irish politics had long become (as politics 
 always become) a close corporation, and to escape from 
 them into such a movement was like breaking into fresh 
 air. I knew very well that Volunteers in Achill could 
 never prove of practical value, for the people of Achill 
 live in great part by migratory labour, the little patches 
 
 10
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 ol bogland to which persecution had driven them being 
 quite insufficient to maintain their families, and out of 
 such a population it were idle to expect to raise a 
 permanent drilled force. To begin the drilling of 
 youth in Achill, therefore, was rather an instinct than a 
 reasoned plan — an instinct of comradeship and comrade- 
 liness I believe I can truly say — and in that it was a 
 symptom of what occurred, spontaneously or as the 
 result of prompting, all over Ireland. But for me the 
 result was that it brought me actively into touch with 
 some of the leaders of the movement in Dublin, with 
 consequences that drew me into politics in spite of my 
 determination never to meddle with them. 
 
 The chief of the leaders with whom I came into 
 contact at that time was Eoin MacNeill, O'Rahilly, and 
 Sir Roger Casement. Eoin MacNeill and O'Rahilly I 
 had known well before. Roger Casement I never met 
 till then; and of all the men I have ever met, in a way- 
 faring life, men of every sort and description, I have 
 never met any man of so single and selfless a mind, or 
 of so natural and noble a gesture of soul, as he. 
 
 At that time the thought in all our minds was how 
 to equip the Volunteers with arms. If it were right to 
 drill men it was essential to arm them. As to that 
 everyone was agreed. The task was how to do it. As 
 the work required secrecy, the Provisional Committee 
 had constituted Eoin MacNeill and O'Rahilly a special 
 Arms Sub-Committee, with powers to add to their 
 number and to draw upon the Volunteer treasury with- 
 out revealing their plans. Yet with an Arms Act in 
 force, w r ith British forces in possession of, and British 
 
 IT
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 gunboats guarding, the coast, with detectives watching 
 every movement of the leaders, and with all letters 
 examined in the post, the task was obviously one of 
 extraordinary difficulty. 
 
 During the early months of 1914 I had frequently 
 discussed this problem with these men. O'Rahilly was 
 in charge of the actual inquiries with certain houses on 
 the Continent, and as I lived in London, where mails 
 (then) were not examined, we arranged that these 
 inquiries should pass through my hands; all letters to 
 Dublin being sent under cover. Yet what with one 
 difficulty and another, one preoccupation and another, 
 April came, and still nothing had been done beyond the 
 gathering of information. In the meantime the men 
 were becoming restive for the lack of arms — for there 
 is nothing to which the Irishman is more sensitive than 
 to ridicule — and to drill with wooden guns was to offer 
 oneself as a target for ridicule. 
 
 Then the political situation compelled a rapid decision. 
 For an attempt was made by the politicians to capture 
 the movement; and the only way to save it, and keep it 
 independent (to keep it in existence at all, in fact), seemed 
 to be — arms. 
 
 §5 
 
 During the early months of 1914 the Volunteers had 
 spread too rapidly through the country for them to be 
 looked upon with any favour by the older political 
 leaders. Only slowly did they actually learn that the 
 bonds of their control had been loosened. Preoccupied 
 with the lobbies of Westminster, they had omitted to 
 
 12
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 keep in touch with events in Ireland, where they had 
 been trained to think their kingdom was secure. I had 
 occasion to meet John Redmond fairly frequently during 
 these months, and I remember what seemed to me the 
 amazing incredulity with which he heard the news of 
 the spread of the movement that to me had become a 
 commonplace. His incredulity was as incredible to me 
 as my commonplaces were incredible to him, and nothing 
 more surely convinced me than those meetings of the 
 wrong Irishmen did themselves, as well as did their 
 country, by absenting themselves from home to attend 
 a Parliament in London. 
 
 /et one could perceive the political leaders were 
 vaguely apprehensive. Their thoughts were concen- 
 trated on London lobbies, where a difficult battle had 
 to be fought, but their instincts were alert and discom- 
 forted. Human nature will not be denied, and to the 
 minds of these Masler Builders (whose building seemed 
 so near completion) there came the ancient, horrible fear 
 of Youth knocking at the door. Therefore, while they 
 disbelieved what they were told, they planned to capture 
 and control the new movement. 
 
 Moreover, there was another consideration in their 
 minds. It musl Jv; remembered that at that time none 
 doubted that within a few months Home Rule would 
 begin to come into operation with the transfer of services. 
 And John Redmond plainly said to me that he had no 
 intention of forming a new government with so incom- 
 mensurable an organization in the field in dispute of his 
 authority. 
 
 In Ireland, therefore, the two chief political organiza- 
 
 13
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 tions, the United Irish League and the Ancient Order of 
 Hibernians, were warned; and the new movement began 
 to encounter suspicion and hostility where once all had 
 gone well. Thus the problem matured that had been 
 perceived from the beginning. With great wisdom and 
 skill the leaders of the Volunteers had, during these early 
 months, avoided all suspicion of opposing political 
 organizations, and so had averted their hostility. The 
 fruits of the political crop were, apparently, ripe to 
 harvest, and the Volunteers had been presented as a 
 drilled alternative should that harvest be threatened. 
 Indeed, this was true political wisdom, spoken in all 
 sincerity by the leaders of the revolutionary side of the 
 movement, such as Eoin MacNeill and Roger Casement. 
 It was not the faith of revolutionaries like Tom Clarke. 
 But both were agreed that, however their ends might 
 differ, the Volunteers, to be an effective body, must be 
 kept as a separate organization, free from political con- 
 trol. Otherwise (it was argued) they would cease to be 
 a drilled, disciplined force, and become a parade of 
 political fustian, neither picturesque nor practical. And 
 now this danger, long foreseen and adroitly averted, be- 
 came a continual anxiety, with the alternative of a 
 disastrous split. 
 
 In such passes the natural tendency is to play for 
 time. Early in the year, therefore, I had been desired by 
 Eoin MacNeill to get into contact with John Redmond, 
 and to keep the issue in abeyance as long as possible. I 
 would therefore be able to report what was passing in 
 his mind, and at the same time the Volunteers would 
 have time to strengthen themselves in the country. It is 
 
 M
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 probable that, ultimately, some months of valuable time 
 were gained in this way; but in April it became necessary 
 that the actual leaders should themselves come to London 
 to see the Parliamentary men. So on Thursday Eoin 
 MacNeill and Roger Casement, who had been appointed 
 for that purpose by the Provisional Committee, travelled 
 to meet John Redmond, John Dillon, and Joseph Devlin 
 at Westminster, and it was as a result of that meeting 
 that the decision was taken to proceed without delay to 
 the arming of the Volunteers. 
 
 §6 
 
 This meeting was held the day following, and on Satur- 
 day I lunched with them at Mrs. J. R. Green's house 
 in Grosvenor Road, Westminster. After lunch we spoke 
 of their meeting the previous day, and discussed the 
 delicate difficulty that lay immediately before the Vol- 
 unteers, for at the previous day's meeting John Redmond 
 had suggested (what he later formulated as a demand) 
 that he should nominate as his representatives as many 
 members to the Provisional Committee as there were 
 members already. 1 
 
 This, then, was the method to capture or split the 
 movement : directly to attack the head while the political 
 
 1 Tom Clarke, according to his rule, was not a member of 
 the Provisional Committee. Padraic Pearse was then in the 
 United States, collecting funds for his school at St. Enda's, and 
 at the Friday's meeting John Redmond had complained bitterly 
 of his meetings there with the Clan na Gael (" my hereditary 
 enemies "). 
 
 15
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 organizations were busy through the country seeking to 
 envelop the body. If this suggestion were once made as 
 a public demand it seemed impossible to refuse it, yet 
 not to refuse it would be to alienate the Republican 
 Brotherhood. 
 
 There seemed but one way to save the position. The 
 Volunteers wanted arms. Those who provided arms 
 would control the force, whoever was appointed to the 
 Provisional Committee. Moreover, if the Republican 
 Brotherhood knew that arms were actually on the way 
 they might accept the immediate demand as inevitable, 
 secure in the knowledge that there would be a further 
 inevitable beyond it, when the existence of an armed force 
 in Ireland would bring the practical control into their 
 hands. 
 
 I therefore had asked how O'Rahilly stood in this 
 matter. Eoin MacNeill, I well remember, illustrated 
 the practical difficulties by producing from his pocket 
 envelopes of letters, that had been opened for examination 
 with no attempt to disguise the fact. He told also of 
 the detectives who followed them everywhere. The 
 movement stood in daily fear of proclamation, and with 
 these constant nets about their feet how was it possible 
 to proceed? 
 
 Then it was that I made the offer that was to change 
 the entire course of my life, little though I would have 
 believed it at the time. Eoin MacNeill was returning to 
 Dublin that night, and I suggested that O'Rahilly should 
 come over some day early the following week and bring 
 with him all the information he had collected, all the 
 addresses on the Continent, together with all the money 
 
 16
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 on which they could possibly put their hands. The very 
 night of his arrival, if necessary, I would leave for the 
 Continent, while he returned to Ireland. I would use 
 my best discretion and buy. " Let us buy the rifles," I 
 said, urging my point, " and so at least get into the 
 problem. Having them on our hands, we will have to 
 land them somewhere in Ireland." But the first thing 
 was to buy, and so to present our wits with a problem that 
 they would have to answer. As I could move freely 
 where they could not I offered myself for the making 
 of a beginning. 
 
 Never while I live will my eyes forget the effect of my 
 offer on one of the company present. The picture is 
 indelibly written to the last detail. 
 
 It was a grey afternoon. The windows gave on to the 
 Thames, and against the grey sky the warehouses on the 
 southern bank were, through the gathering mist, lined 
 in an outline of darker grey and black, the tall chimneys 
 uplifted above them. The tide was out, and beside the 
 distant quayside some coal-barges lay tilted on the sleek 
 mud of the river-bottom, with their sides washed by 
 the silver waters that raced seaward. 
 
 Against this picture, looking outward before the 
 window-curtains, stood Roger Casement, a figure of per- 
 plexity, and the apparent dejection which he always wore 
 so proudly, as though he had assumed the sorrows of 
 the world. His face was in profile to me, his handsome 
 head and noble outline cut out against the lattice-work 
 of the curtain and the grey sky. His height seemed more 
 than usually commanding, his black hair and beard 
 longer than usual. His left leg was thrown forward, 
 
 17 c
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 and the boot was torn in a great hole — for he gave his 
 substance away always, and left himself thus in need, he 
 who could so little afford to take these risks with his 
 health. But as I spoke he left his place by the window 
 and came forward towards me, his face alight with battle. 
 ' That's talking," he said, throwing his hand on the 
 table between us; and I remember the whimsical thought 
 crossing my mind that language had wandered far from 
 its meanings when one man could say to another that 
 he was talking, when his appreciation and brevity 
 betokened an end of talking. 
 
 §7 
 
 All this, it must be remembered, was some weeks be- 
 fore the Larne gun-running, when, on the 24th of April, 
 Carson and his friends ran rifles into Ireland past the 
 blockade of the British Fleet. It has been thought that 
 the Howth gun-running was a direct consequence of 
 the success at Larne. Actually one was well in training 
 when the other occurred, and when the news came from 
 Larne we were delighted, and not only because it gave 
 us an excellent protection for the task at which we were 
 engaged. 
 
 Before we left Mrs. Green's that evening it had been 
 agreed that I should act on my offer. Eoin MacNeill was 
 not at first quite clear as to beginning without seeing the 
 end. His mind was naturally disinclined from this 
 course of procedure, and wished to see beginning and 
 end together; but he was thoroughly convinced of the 
 necessity of immediate action, and before he left he 
 
 18
 
 ARMS AND MEN 
 
 formally committed die direction of the action into my 
 hands, as, he explained, he was entitled to do under the 
 powers given to him by the Provisional Committee. 
 
 In order to ensure absolute secrecy only he, Casement, 
 and O'Rahilly were to know of my name in the matter 
 until the rifles had actually been bought and landed. I 
 was to make whatever arrangements I decided in London, 
 and to communicate as little as possible with Ireland, 
 even with Eoin MacNeill, about the matter. The action, 
 in fact, was to be disengaged as completely as possible 
 from Ireland, where MacNeill would assume general 
 responsibility with the Provisional Committee. In case 
 it were necessary for me to communicate with him he gave 
 me a cover under which to write, and letters to me were 
 also to come under cover. His name in the transaction 
 was always to be John Nelson, and mine to be Edmund 
 Farwell — a name suggested by Roger Casement, with 
 some recondite meaning which he promised to expound, 
 but which I forgot to ask and never got. Thus I would 
 always have perfect cover under which to work while 
 I made my arrangements in London and on the 
 Continent. As for the arrangements in Ireland, these 
 were to be in O'Rahilly's hands, and the two of us were 
 to discuss the manner in which our respective plans were 
 to interlock when he came to London the following 
 week. 
 
 Then we left Grosvenor Road and walked to Case- 
 ment's rooms in Knightsbridge as dusk was falling, still 
 talking over the matter. We dined that night in some 
 Italian restaurant opposite Victoria Tube Station, before 
 going on to Euston, where MacNeill was to catch the 
 
 19
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Irish Mail. Just before the train left Tom Kettle joined 
 us. He had come over to London in connection with the 
 meeting the previous day, and MacNeill and he returned 
 together. 
 
 Roger Casement was in walking mood, and the two of 
 us walked to Shaftesbury Avenue, till I left him to 
 return to Hampstead, where I then lived. It seems a 
 momentous night in my years as I look back on it now, 
 with all that was to flow out of the decision taken that 
 day. None of us knew the future, a fortunate fact, no 
 doubt. The action on which I had entered was to 
 achieve world-publicity; and prominent statesmen, to 
 mask their mature plans, were to attach to it responsibility 
 for a world-war. But that night it seemed that it would 
 be a quiet and secret affair. It would be an affair of 
 some risks, to be sure, but it would be an honourable 
 service, with a joy of adventure; and after it were over 
 one would return to one's notebooks and literary projects. 
 So my wife and I thought of it, as we discussed it that 
 night — and so much for human prevision. 
 
 20
 
 T 
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 §i 
 
 ^HE supreme difficulty that confronted us at every 
 turn was that ours was a poor man's movement. 
 The rich did not smile on us, nor were the wealthy 
 kind. Even while one began to put together the separate 
 pieces of one's plan, Sir Edward Carson, unknown to 
 us, was maturing (or others acting for him were 
 maturing) his own scheme for just such a project, but 
 where he was clad in soft raiment we were lean and 
 naked, and where rich men filled his coffers we had to 
 fare by our wits. It made a woeful difference — a differ- 
 ence that antiquity has not robbed of its sting. 
 
 I was faced with the difficulty in London, and 
 O'Rahilly was faced with it in Ireland. He did not, 
 indeed, come to London for a further fortnight for just 
 this very reason. Only a few hundred pounds could be 
 collected at so short a notice, and the inadequacy of this 
 sum laughed at us. In the meantime he sent me the 
 address of a firm in Hamburg, and I arranged with them 
 to send samples of two rifles, one of an ancient pattern, 
 the other of a pattern downright antique, to a firm in 
 Hounsditch for inspection. 
 
 While he delayed I rehearsed all possible plans, that 
 they might be made to fit to the plans he would bring, 
 
 21
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 and it was always at that point of juncture they failed. 
 It was clear that whatever money could be gathered to- 
 gether would barely suffice for a presentable purchase 
 of arms. Assuming that problem answered, and the 
 rifles bought and ready to ship, how were they to be 
 brought to Ireland for delivery where O'Rahilly arranged 
 to have them? To charter a vessel was out of the 
 question. Our more fortunate, if a little uneasy, comrades 
 in Ulster were at that very moment devising just so 
 splendid a gesture; but gestures of this sort were not for 
 our humbler, though not less determined, folk. 
 
 Always in our conversations, therefore, Roger Case- 
 ment and I returned to this problem. That it was always 
 present in his mind I knew by the fact that during the 
 first week a number of persons came from him with 
 plans to discuss. Then he himself said that the daughter of 
 an Irish peer had offered to contrive the use of her father's 
 yacht, but she herself frankly indicated the difficulties 
 to its use. The boat itself was not suitable, and it lay 
 in a river creek near a police barracks. Its removal would 
 certainly be noted and the boat marked. It was there- 
 fore decided that Casement and I should continue our 
 inquiries. 
 
 Then on the eve of his leaving for Ireland he wrote 
 saying he had discovered the very boat. It belonged to 
 Mr. Erskine Childers, the English publicist who had 
 written a book on Ireland, and who was ready to help. 
 He gave me his address, and urged me to see him without 
 delay. 
 
 On receipt of this letter I went at once to see Mr. 
 Childers at his flat in Chelsea. He told me that Case- 
 
 22
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 ment had spoken to him fully concerning our project, and 
 that he was willing to help in every way possible, recog- 
 nizing the risks that were involved, and the necessity for 
 absolute secrecy. He described his yacht, and said that 
 he had laid it at the end of the previous summer at (if 
 I remember aright) Criccieth, in North Wales, but that 
 it could easily be put into seaworthy condition at very 
 short notice. And while he spoke of his yacht, which 
 was clearly the very thing for which we had been look- 
 ing, I weighed in my mind a number of balances that 
 had nothing whatever to do with yachts at all. 
 
 For I had, then and there, either to invite him or not; 
 for though Casement had, it seemed, practically invited 
 him, Casement had also invited others who had come 
 to me, and I had found it necessary, for one reason or 
 another, to set them to work that was not intended to 
 come to anything. Childers' was a different case. He 
 had either to be swallowed whole or rejected whole. And 
 the balances, as I weighed them, always inclined towards 
 him, quite apart from the matter of the yacht, which was 
 the chief cause of his assistance being sought. 
 
 It then seemed to me strange, for example, that an 
 Englishman 1 should desire to bear these risks in our 
 service; but, on the other hand, his position in England, 
 his social connections, his influence with a section of the 
 Liberal Party, then in power, were safeguards not to be 
 thrown lightly aside. I knew it would be said (as it 
 
 1 In later years he maintained his right as an Irishman, but 
 at that time none of us thought of him as other than a well- 
 known English publicist who had eloquently and learnedly 
 espoused our case. 
 
 2 3
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 very quickly was) that an Englishman, though his worth 
 were gold, should not be told of our plans against his 
 country; but then Roger Casement had already told him 
 fully of them, and a man of his tradition would be bound 
 by adding responsibility to knowledge, where he might 
 not regard himself bound if that addition were not made. 
 Besides, if he helped, he would help only at sea, where 
 he was a yachtsman of known skill, and where his services 
 for Great Britain had been such that he would hardly 
 be suspected of trafficking with those who wished to run 
 guns to her peril. 
 
 So, while he spoke, I weighed these things. O'Rahilly 
 was expecting to come any day now, and I was still 
 unable to join my plans to his where the sea stretched 
 between us. That threw the last consideration in the 
 scale, and when Mr. Childers had finished I told him 
 my plans. My proposal was to distribute my responsi- 
 bility to a selected London committee, each member of 
 which would take charge of one part of the whole action. 
 Mrs. Green should be invited to give her great name and 
 large capacity to the care of its treasury, to collect, re- 
 ceive and account all moneys. Mr. Childers would take 
 charge of all arrangements for the shipment of our little 
 armoury. And I would, while generally responsible for 
 their delivery (a responsibility of which I could not rid 
 myself), take charge of their purchase and of their de- 
 livery on to Mr. Childers' yacht wherever we should 
 arrange for this to occur. To this he added a suggestion 
 that Mrs. Childers should be added to our committee, 
 as the channel of communication when we would be at 
 the separate ends of our common action. 
 
 24
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 Without delay we went then to Mrs. Green, who 
 agreed to act as treasurer. Without her it is improbable 
 that we could have brought our enterprise to an end. It 
 was she who in great part covered the liabilities incurred, 
 until they should be met by donations, promises, and the 
 sale of the guns when landed. It was under her direction 
 that a number of wage-earners were banded together, 
 each one of whom, out of her or his poverty, covered a 
 limited share of that liability until the final sale to the 
 Volunteers, risking that much of absolute loss if the enter- 
 prise failed. At every hour of the day and night she 
 was always ready to lend herself and her resources to our 
 hazardous enterprise. 
 
 §2 
 
 Within a few days O'Rahilly came. I met him in the 
 porch of the Victoria Hotel in Northumberland Avenue. 
 There he told me that he had been followed from 
 Ireland, and that Dublin detectives were even at that 
 moment waiting outside the hotel for him. But London 
 is not Dublin in the matter of following a sleuth, and 
 that night he slept at Hampstead unknown and un- 
 guarded. His first and chief anxiety was concerning 
 Childers. When he had been satisfied in that regard, 
 he unfolded his part of the plan while I unfolded ours. 
 Briefly, his plan consisted of a number of secret dumps 
 around the southern and western Irish coast. He ex- 
 plained that at each of these dumps the yacht would, 
 during June, as though cruising for pleasure, deliver 
 agreed lots of rifles on agreed dates. In this way the 
 difficulty of distribution from one centre in Ireland would 
 
 25
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 be avoided, and the dumps would be chosen (several of 
 them, he said, had already been arranged) for speedy 
 delivery to districts where it was known that companies 
 were ready to buy. 
 
 I was not happy about the plan, and, when we dis- 
 cussed it at a meeting of our committee the following 
 morning, neither was Childers. The risks of delivery at 
 ten centres seemed a hundred times greater than delivery 
 at one centre. But the plan had been approved in 
 Ireland, and we had no alternative but to proceed with 
 our part of the enterprise. The rest of our discussion 
 turned on matters of finance, since it was imperative that 
 we should know to what extent we could commit our- 
 selves. 
 
 Casement was now back in London, and he took 
 Childers and myself to see a friend of his in St. Mary 
 Axe who was agent for a Belgian armoury firm. In the 
 meantime the samples had arrived from Hamburg, and 
 one of them, an old 9 mm. bore Mauser rifle, seemed the 
 thing for our purpose, cheap and undeniably effective — 
 as was afterwards proved. Rifles are one of the infernal 
 inventions of man's wit — the prehistoric caveman's 
 hunger and battle for life surviving as a slayer's lust in 
 the finished craftsmanship of machinery. But if they are 
 to be used it is right that they be effective, and our 
 strange love (I have the original sample yet) would, we 
 decided, be effective — patiently and weightily effective. 
 
 Thus, with O'Rahilly's information and our own 
 separate inquiries, I was now ready to proceed to the 
 Continent. Childers came with me. We went first to 
 Liege, to the armoury firm of which Roger Casement's 
 
 26
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 friend was agent. While day dawned we sped through 
 flat Belgian fields, where roads went straight into the 
 distance, flanked by slender poplars, where every acre 
 was alive with green cultivation, chill with dew, and 
 clothed with the golden warmth of May, but where, 
 presently, armies were to march and slaughter reign, in 
 memory, for that cockpit of Europe, of a hundred other 
 armies and a hundred other reigns of slaughter. And 
 we, too, as we sped, went to buy instruments of slaughter 
 in a city that was not only itself an ancient cockpit of 
 war, but the armoury of the obsolete and obsolescent 
 weapons of Europe, where poor nations came to buy dis- 
 carded toys of their wealthy brethren. 
 
 Liege merchants, however, could not help us. Their 
 toys were pretty but too expensive. We were not so 
 foolish as to refuse them. Baffled sellers have other 
 means of profit in such forbidden gear; but we left Liege 
 that night knowing well that its merchandise was not 
 for our purses. 
 
 We went to Hamburg, a city beautiful and modernly 
 ancient, like a comely matron who can keep her place 
 with the liveliest of youth. We lodged at a pleasant 
 little hotel opposite the railway station, and after our 
 morning coffee we went a few hundred yards down the 
 same Strasse to O'Rahilly's firm of Michael Magnus, 
 Junior. 
 
 It was a wonderful firm. It moved my admiration 
 then, and has never ceased to move it since. It was con- 
 ducted by two brothers — Michael, masterful and calm, 
 and his elder brother Moritz, expressive and expostulant. 
 In an adventurous life I had not suspected the existence 
 
 2 7
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 of such persons. A few months later Europe was to be 
 loud with claimants for the honour of being considered 
 the Friend of Small Nationalities. I did not hear my 
 good friends Michael and Moritz Magnus then, but I 
 thought of them. For here they were, the genuine 
 Friends of Small Nationalities, professing nothing large, 
 but practising their faith and friendship consistently, 
 neglecting fine speeches and directing their attention to 
 good deeds. They were not politicians looking to fill 
 their sails with favourable winds. Practical men, rather, 
 after the manner of their compatriot St. Peter, who held 
 that faith without works is dead. Therefore, after every 
 war, they bought armaments of all sorts from neglected 
 battlefields, and established an armoury to which small 
 nations might repair for the righting of their wrrngs, 
 and where they plied their faith, through good repute 
 and bad, in the brief hope of immediate reward. 
 
 The tokens of their faith, from large shell-cases to 
 small pistols, were about us as we sat in their upholstered 
 room; but something had occurred to weaken that faith. 
 That was evident to both Childers and myself. They 
 had the article we needed; we had the small tribute they 
 so reasonably required; yet the two brothers constantly 
 retired to consult how they might make clear to us that 
 they would not help. As a matter of fact they both spoke 
 excellent English, but we found a curious inability to 
 understand them when they came to rehearsals of that 
 critical sentence. Oddly enough, we even sometimes 
 understood them in a completely opposite sense, and so, 
 baffled, they withdrew again. When they withdrew, 
 Childers expostulated that we were wasting our time, 
 
 28
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 since it was clear they would not sell, whatever the cause 
 might be. It was not easy to make clear to him that, 
 since we had found the article we wanted, if we were 
 patient enough, and bland enough, and imperturbable 
 enough, nothing could prevent us getting it. The great 
 thing was to husband our energy so as not to be the first 
 to be fatigued. 
 
 Later I learned the cause of their reluctance. I little 
 thought when I learned it how strangely I should after- 
 wards remember it, when the whole world was at war. 
 For, a few weeks before this, Carson had run his cargo 
 of rifles at Larne, and these rifles had been bought in 
 Hamburg. Germany, I was told, believed that Britain 
 was looking for a cause of war, and the German Govern- 
 ment had therefore warned all firms that they must under 
 no circumstances sell arms to Ireland. Another affair 
 such as Larne, with its noise and alarm, might bring 
 serious consequences that Germany was anxious to avert. 
 This, be it remembered, was told me before our affair at 
 Howth, and two months before the European war. I 
 thought it fantastic then, though I soon had cause to 
 know that the fear was genuine. 
 
 However, at the time I knew nothing of this. We 
 were puzzled but bland, immovably fixed in their 
 capacious upholstery, and astonishingly unintelligent. 
 Then, more by chance than through good wit, I let 
 drop that we desired these rifles for Mexico. Mexico? 
 The two brothers looked quickly at one another and 
 withdrew for another consultation. Childers complained 
 that no one in their senses would mistake us for Mexicans, 
 and I had barely answered that lies like this were not told 
 
 29
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 for belief, but merely to give the other side a reasonable 
 excuse for agreement, when the two brothers returned. 
 They were very cautious, and they expressed their interest 
 in the case of Mexico; but it was obvious that they were 
 now in quite another mood. Their caution was now not 
 reluctance, but a wary tread towards a business deal. 
 
 §3 
 
 We entered the office of Magnus at 9.20 in the morn- 
 ing, and it was after 12.30 before we had bought our 
 rifles. It had proved an unexpectedly and unreasonably 
 stubborn battle, and we had no knowledge of the cause of 
 the difficulty beyond what we could infer from the catch- 
 ing at the Mexican straw. It was therefore necessary to 
 have the matter in writing. I drew out then the chief 
 heads of a memorandum of agreement. After lunch, 
 when Michael Magnus was our admirable host, we con- 
 tinued to work at that agreement till nearly seven that 
 night, when we exchanged signed copies, subject to its 
 revision by consent on the morrow, Whit-Saturday, when 
 we were to return home. The rifles, we were told, were 
 warehoused at Liege, and Magnus was to wire me within 
 one month to come for them — first to inspect them in 
 detail and then to bear them away. 
 
 That night Childers stayed to examine the agreement 
 while I went to the opera. No amount of banter could 
 dissuade him from an examination word by word of that 
 agreement. Yet actually it was worthless as a legal docu- 
 ment. I had signed it as Edmund Farwell, and he had 
 signed it also under his assumed name. Its only value 
 
 30
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 was for its effect on Magnus, and that did not require 
 every comma to be in its right place. Our true safe- 
 guard was in our banking arrangements, by which no 
 money would be released till a mate's receipt had been 
 given for the cargo. Yet when I came down to coffee 
 the next morning Childers was still worrying over that 
 agreement, seeking for verbal perfection where we had 
 the substance of what we wanted. 
 
 The following day we returned home. Before we did 
 so, however, we went with Magnus to the Director of the 
 Deutsche Bank to complete our banking arrangements, 
 and to a shipping-house to charter a tug. Here we met 
 another difficulty. We had already purchased a thousand 
 rifles, with the option of another five hundred to be taken 
 with them, and this committed us to moneys which it 
 was doubtful if we could gather in the time. But now 
 an extortionate sum of ^300 was demanded for a tug 
 down the river, and by no means could we get the price 
 lowered. 
 
 Therefore we left this an open question, and the 
 following week we went to Antwerp to see if we could 
 better the price. We tried three houses there, and at 
 each the price was ^300. Clearly we were on another's 
 trail, and that trail, as clearly, was Carson's. So at 
 Antwerp, seeing that we were not to do business there, 
 we were simple and ingenuous and frank. A fleet of 
 Irish trawlers, we said, were to meet the tug we wanted, 
 and we would send them fuller details later. I have been 
 told, in such a way as to believe it, that all Irish trawlers 
 were watched and carefully searched for some time after 
 this. Yachts escaped attention. 
 
 31
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 §4 
 
 In the meantime Mrs. Green had her organization at 
 work for the collection of money, and on our return 
 from Antwerp, while I awaited the telegram from 
 Magnus, Childers and I gave our attention to arrange- 
 ments for shipment and landing. He was doubtful if his 
 yacht would conveniently carry 1,500 rifles, if we found 
 ourselves able to take the other 500, and he therefore 
 proposed that he should ask Conor O'Brien, whose yacht 
 was only slightly smaller than his own, to take a share of 
 our cargo. We agreed upon this; but this meant that 
 Childers, when on his way to Criccieth, would need to 
 continue on to Dublin, and, while there, see O'Rahilly. 
 
 Then Casement wrote saying that he gravely doubted 
 the wisdom of continuing with O'Rahilly, who was 
 being too closely followed by detectives. Knowing the 
 trouble O'Rahilly had taken in the matter since the 
 beginning of the year, I was averse to breaking with him. 
 Moreover, if we broke with him, this would have to be 
 done unknown to him in order to leave the detectives to 
 follow a false clue. The success of our enterprise would 
 require this; but no one could have taken such a course 
 with a man so loyal and loveable as O'Rahilly without 
 mean thoughts of himself. Childers did not know 
 O'Rahilly and did not share my feelings in the matter; 
 but for some time I would not consent until Roger 
 Casement crossed to London and explained that a change 
 would have to be made. At that time I was waiting for 
 the telegram from Magnus while struggling with arrears 
 
 3 2
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 of my own work. Moreover, about this time Casement 
 was completing his arrangements to cross to America, 
 and was due to leave within a week. We therefore 
 agreed that Childers should leave for Dublin as soon as 
 possible, taking letters of introduction with him from 
 Casement. 
 
 Before he returned (perhaps before he left) Casement 
 had gone, as I remember the unpleasant circumstances 
 that followed. On the morning of his return I met 
 Childers at his flat, where we all were to lunch. To 
 my extreme surprise Childers would say nothing, but 
 that he met a man who was to be known as " Dolan," 
 with whom he had mp^ other plans which he was not 
 at liberty to divulge. I asked who " Dolan " was, and 
 he claimed confidence there, too. The situation was 
 awkward, for I was a guest in his house, yet with a 
 responsibility of which I could not rid myself. I rose to 
 leave, protesting another appointment and asked him to 
 dine with me at my club. He countered me by the offer 
 of his club. So we arranged an independent meeting 
 for that evening. 
 
 I was greatly distressed. The situation was as un- 
 pleasant as it could be. There had been small earlier 
 causes for discontent, but our common responsibilities 
 did not allow of their entertainment. This, however, 
 was a different matter. It affected not one's personal 
 feelings so much as one's responsibilities. So, as we sat 
 in a tavern in Whitehall, I spoke frankly, and said that 
 whereas until that moment we had been two good 
 comrades together, I had now to remember that he held 
 his trust from me, whereas I held it from those who were 
 
 33 D
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 in turn my chiefs. I had no intention of delivering any 
 rifles into his yacht until I knew what he proposed to do 
 with them. In the first place, I wished to know who 
 " Dolan " was; in the second, what the new plan was. 
 
 Then I learned that " Dolan " was Bulmer Hobson, a 
 member of the Provisional Committee; and that the plan 
 was to hold up the port of Howth, near Dublin, and 
 land the rifles in the port openly in broad day, avoiding 
 all the dangers and difficulties of manoeuvres at night. 
 Where the difficulty had been I could not perceive, for 
 the name carried its own guarantee, and the plan was 
 clearly the right one. It had the simple boldness that 
 attunes and tempers the blood. Besides, audacity has 
 always been its own best protection, since it is never 
 expected and robs one's foeman of the initiative — a 
 quality beyond price in manoeuvre. 
 
 §5 
 Within a few days of this Childers left for Criccieth, 
 and I left shortly afterwards for Liege to complete the 
 last part of our enterprise. As nearly as I can remember 
 I left for Liege on the last day of June, and as I was to 
 take delivery of die further 500 rifles, and to purchase 
 45,000 rounds of ammunition, for none of which had we 
 made banking arrangements, I took a considerable sum 
 of money with me. My appointment was to meet 
 Erskine Childers and Conor O'Brien at 12 noon at the 
 Roetigen lightship at the mouth of the Scheldt on Sunday, 
 the 1 2th of July. This would leave them a fortnight 
 to get to Ireland, lest they fell becalmed in July weather. 
 
 34
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 Childers was to bring 1,000 rifles into Howth Harbour 
 punctually at 12.45 on Sunday the 26th, and Conor 
 O'Brien was to land 500 at Kilcoole, Co. Wicklow, the 
 night before to distract attention southward. My wife 
 was to hold the line of communication, and before 
 Childers left Cowes on his way outward we were to 
 exchange telegrams through my wife that all was well 
 on each side. 
 
 At Liege my troubles began. There Moritz Magnus 
 was in charge, and though he was the kindest-hearted 
 of men, the most expressive, and the most expostulant, 
 he was not the most efficient. The rifles were all ready, 
 and had each to be inspected, lock, stock, and barrel, but 
 no arrangements had been made for packing them ready 
 on rail for Hamburg. A friend of mine was on holiday 
 in Bruges, and I wired him to help me with the inspection 
 while I installed myself as foreman of works, and 
 negotiated with trade-union officials for a staff. The 
 result was the oddest collection of old women and men 
 diat I have ever been blest to see. The days were 
 blistered with heat, and they all worked stripped to the 
 waist. They were homely people, but the example was 
 one I quickly followed, and, while we made a cheery 
 and emphatically jocose party together, we got the work 
 done. As the guns came from inspection we wrapped 
 them in straw and tied them in canvas, twenty apiece. 
 And so, by working early and late, we managed to have 
 the whole consignment put on rail for Hamburg by Satur- 
 day evening, the 4th of July, and I was able to spend 
 Sunday peacefully in Cologne and hear Beethoven's Mass 
 in D major in the Cathedral. 
 
 35
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 At Hamburg our original difficulty took a new and 
 anxious form. On returning to the hotel the first, 
 evening I was informed that a police official had been 
 making inquiries. This did not of itself mean anything, 
 but the next morning Michael Magnus told me that they 
 had been warned. Both he and his brother consulted 
 together gravely. It was, they said to me, a serious 
 matter for them, for they could not act against their 
 Government, though they could not think how their 
 Government came by knowledge of our deal. I was 
 being watched, and should be very careful of my move- 
 ments. Fortunately, it did not appear that their Govern- 
 ment suspected that business had already been transacted. 
 They impressed on me that it was for Mexico I wished 
 the rifles. I must always, they said, keep that to the 
 front. England had no interest in Mexico. 
 
 These were anxious days. By Wednesday evening I 
 had received no wire from Cowes; my wife had wired 
 (in code) that she had no news, the bundles of rifles 
 had not arrived from Liege, no ammunition had 
 appeared, and I was being followed. Yet the tug had 
 been chartered to leave at eight o'clock on Friday evening. 
 
 Lastly, to put the crown on trouble, the shippers in- 
 formed Magnus that the port regulations required that 
 all outgoing cargoes be examined and certified by a 
 Customs Officer. This was a problem that none of us 
 had suspected, and it seemed insurmountable, for the 
 shippers were a firm of repute and could not afford 
 evasion. But a careful examination of the regulations 
 revealed that a pilot could act as Customs Officer. We 
 decided therefore to engage a pilot, and the shippers 
 
 36
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 undertook to discover a pilot who could (failing Mexican) 
 speak English, and who would have other suitable 
 qualities. As for the skipper and his crew, these had 
 already been provided for in advance. 
 
 On Thursday I received my wire from Cowes. On 
 Thursday the " machine-parts " arrived from Liege. But 
 the boxes of ammunition did not arrive in Hamburg till 
 within three hours of our time for casting-off from the 
 quayside, and did not reach the quayside till nearly seven 
 o'clock. Neither anger on earth nor prayer to heaven 
 hastened their delivery till the last point of exasperation. 
 And when they were at last got into the hold, and a case 
 here and there opened for examination, to my horror I 
 found they were all dum-dum. No matter. I would 
 have taken explosive bullets then, I believe, with con- 
 siderable relish. 
 
 §6 
 
 All was now ready for the pilot. On him, and on the 
 handling of him, depended everything. I do not believe 
 I have ever scanned any man's face so anxiously, yet so 
 guardedly, for signs either of beneficence or of corrupti- 
 bility. Either would have been equally suitable. But 
 he was a grave and stern man, with a face like a mask, 
 out of the mouth of which dropped a very big pipe. 
 
 I was introduced to him by the skipper as a 
 distinguished Mexican, and I realized with a shock that 
 I had for the first time met someone who believed that 
 I was a Mexican. For the two had spoken in German 
 together. Speaking in English I asked him if he spoke 
 Mexican. No, he did not; but he spoke English. 
 
 37
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Excellent, that would do as well. He smoked a cigar? 
 He slowed his pipe in his pocket and lit my cigar. He 
 liked it? He did, and said twice, emphatically, that the 
 brand was good. It was the only emphasis I had as yet 
 got out of him, and he was right, the cigar was good. It 
 had been chosen for him. I was glad to have found a 
 man of taste; I hoped he would honour me by accepting 
 the box from which it came. He took the box, slowed 
 it under his arm, and shook my hand. 
 
 So he smoked in the cool of a July evening, and walked 
 the deck of the tug as we lay amid the shipping of the 
 port of Hamburg. Then I told him that unhappily I 
 was not very well. He noted the fact without letting the 
 unfortunate occurrence disturb his enjoyment of his cigar. 
 What time would we reach the river mouth? At about 
 2.30 a.m., he said. At that hour, unfortunately, I hoped 
 to be sleeping soundly and would deny myself the 
 courtesy of his taking leave. He would permit me, there- 
 fore, to pay his fee now as I wished at once to turn in? 
 
 So we went into the chart-room, where I paid him his 
 fee, and he gave me his receipt. When this was done 
 I quietly passed him three English bank-notes. His blue 
 eyes looked at me with simple wonderment. This was 
 not customary, he said. We had come to the critical 
 moment. Had it been customary, I said, it would not be 
 the courtesy I intended. It was thus we liked to conduct 
 afTairs in my country. I hoped he would give me this 
 pleasure. He put the notes carefully and reflectively in 
 his wallet. 
 
 We took a few further turns on the deck before he 
 went down to examine the cargo. I walked the deck 
 
 38
 
 GERMAN RIFLES 
 
 awaiting his return in an anxiety I could scarcely contain. 
 I found it even difficult to breathe, and only by steady 
 pacing could I control myself, for it would never do to 
 let my anxiety reveal itself. Then I heard him coming 
 up the ladder from the hold. He walked past me, and 
 only as he passed me did he turn for one quick moment 
 and look at me. The light of understanding was in 
 his eye. 
 
 He went up on the bridge and spoke to the skipper. 
 The skipper called to the crew, the hawsers were cast off, 
 and the tug began to make way down the river. All 
 was well. They had chosen a good pilot, who was also 
 a Customs Officer. 
 
 39
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 §i 
 
 UNDAY, the 12th of July, 1914, in the North Sea 
 
 •was heavy with ochreous-golden mist. Our world 
 
 was narrowed to within a few cables' length of the tug, 
 
 a distance across which heavy surgeless rollers swept, 
 
 leaving the tug rocking in their wake. These rollers 
 
 emerged from the mist, smooth and burnished, as from 
 
 some distant world, lifted the tug upon them, and, while 
 
 she slid down their sides, they rolled away into the mist, 
 
 their flanks gleaming in the dull, golden light that fell 
 
 through the curtain that had enveloped us. Not a 
 
 breath of wind did they bring with them, not a breath 
 
 did they draw after them. The day was sultry and close, 
 
 and not a stir of air visited our faces. 
 
 From the moment when we cleared the river we had 
 
 made only half-speed, and about ten on Sunday morning 
 
 we lay idly rocking among the rollers, lest we should 
 
 make the lightship too early. It was important that we 
 
 should not draw the attention of those on the lightship, and 
 
 for that reason the heavy mist suited us well, though it 
 
 gave us and our yachts a greater difficulty in picking up 
 
 one another. Towards noon we drifted nearer, till the 
 
 lightship hove in sight, and then we lay out of sight to 
 
 the westward, across the line on which the yachts should 
 
 come. 
 
 40
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 It vras not till 2.30 that a yacht was called. As she 
 bore up out of the mis! I examined her through my 
 glasses, but though she was painted white like Childers' 
 (O'Brien s being, as I had been advised, black), she was 
 many times too large, and carried two masts. She bore 
 down close upon us, and examined us so carefully as she 
 passed that she left us greatly wondering who she might 
 be when she had gone. Then we waited again, rocking 
 in the waves, unnecessarily anxious as the hours passed. 
 
 Later in the afternoon the mist lifted a little, widening 
 our world, and putting silver in the place of dull gold. 
 At 5.30 another yacht was called. She was like what 
 O'Brien's should have been, and she was evidently bear- 
 ing towards us; but I had never met Conor O'Brien and 
 was concerned to know how I should recognize him. 
 He himself quickly settled this, however, by passing us 
 close, and hailing : ' Is that the boat with the rifles for 
 the Irish Volunteers?" or some words of the like sort 
 equally embarrassing to me, beside whom the skipper 
 stood. So I called back in poor Irish asking him to speak 
 in that language, and I was greatly relieved to hear the 
 skipper's low voice asking if this were Mexican. 
 
 The hint was evidently taken, for as the yacht bore 
 round again another man standing beside the first hailed 
 me, this time in Irish. This was, I discovered when I 
 made my way on board the yacht, Dermot CofTey, and 
 I marvelled at the odd occurrence, for my last act before 
 leaving London had been to send a review of an historical 
 book of his to a London journal. Now I met the author 
 for the first time in this fashion in the North Sea. 
 
 Conor O'Brien's sister and the two men comprised the 
 
 4 1
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 whole crew, and without delay we shipped his share of 
 rifles on board his yacht, slowing them in the hold he 
 had prepared for their reception. It was very nearly 
 eight o'clock before we finished, and hardly had we 
 finished, and were trimming his cargo, when another 
 yacht was called. 
 
 This was Erskine Childers'. One yacht succeeded to 
 the other with singular punctuality, for Childers hardly 
 had time to greet O'Brien before the black yacht casl 
 clear and lurched into the gathering dusk, and the white 
 yacht took its place. The new yacht, however, was 
 larger, and it had a greater burden to carry, though I 
 wondered, as I looked on it after the difficulty we had 
 had with the other, where the cargo was to be put. It was 
 manned by a larger crew. In addition to Childers, there 
 were Mrs. Childers, Miss Mary Spring Rice, two Donegal 
 fishermen, and a young friend of Childers who was intro- 
 duced to me as a clerk from the War Office. 
 
 With a crew so large (and so various) it was a hard 
 task to slow the cargo and leave room for passengers. 
 There were the boxes of ammunition as well as the rifles. 
 Conor O'Brien's lot was to be landed at night at Kilcoole 
 in motor-boats, and, therefore, we had slowed it in the 
 original canvas parcels. Childers' had to be landed on 
 to Howth pier, and the tug's crew therefore slit the bags 
 while we slowed the rifles. We began the work at about 
 8.30 and we did not finish until about 1.30, through a hot 
 and sultry night. By the time we had finished we could 
 not but pity the voyagers on the yacht, for there was no 
 place to eat or to sleep except on rifles or on cartridge- 
 boxes. 
 
 42
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 When the task was finished, and while the yacht's 
 crew trimmed cargo, we took her in tow to the Straits 
 of Dover, where we cast loose about seven in the morn- 
 ing. She went on then down the Channel, while we 
 made for Dover, where I was to be landed. She had a 
 fortnight before her, and she had, we afterwards learned, 
 the quiet satisfaction of bearing our forbidden cargo 
 through the British fleet as it lay in review at Spithead, 
 none suspecting what she bore beneath their guns. 
 
 §2 
 
 I waited a week in London, in an attempt to pull up 
 arrears of my own work, before going on to Dublin for 
 the final act. For my trust would not be discharged until 
 the munitions had actually been put into the hands of the 
 Volunteers. 
 
 In Dublin, Bulmer Hobson was in charge. Eoin 
 MacNeill told me that O'Rahilly knew nothing of the 
 new plans, and I therefore avoided him guiltily. The 
 plans, as I heard them, were complete and elaborate. It 
 had been agreed that Childers should lie up on the far 
 side of Lambay Island, off Howth, on Saturday night; 
 and I was to go out to him there that night on a motor- 
 boat from Howth, with a small staff that would be told 
 off to accompany me. In the meantime two other motor- 
 boats were to come up the coast from Kingstown (now 
 Dun Laoghaire) and from Bray. While the yacht bore in 
 towards the harbour, the three motor-boats, full of armed 
 men, were to cruise about the narrowing waters, lest any 
 
 43
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 attempt were made from the coastguard station at Howth 
 to intercept her. 
 
 In the meantime the Volunteers were to march out 
 from Dublin. On the previous two Sundays they had 
 been taken on route marches, and had on each occasion 
 been accompanied by a posse of police — much stronger 
 on the first than on the second occasion. It was expected 
 that on this third occasion custom would have staled the 
 adventure, and the expectation proved correct, for the 
 posse on the critical day was but small. The Volunteers 
 were to be timed to arrive a few minutes ahead of the 
 yacht, to hold the port, receive and make away with the 
 munitions, while the telephone and telegraph were cut 
 so as to dislocate Howth from official headquarters. 
 
 The only matter that caused us concern was that a 
 gunboat was posted in Dublin Bay, which could very 
 quickly arrive on the scene to disconcert us. But in the 
 end this gunboat was lured out of the way by a very simple 
 ruse. For at this time Joseph Devlin and the political 
 leaders were also attempting to land rifles; Italian rifles, 
 as they proved, of an old pattern, without ammunition. An 
 attempt had already been made somewhere in Wexford, 
 but it had been foiled, and the boat bearing the guns had 
 not come in from neutral waters. On the Saturday 
 evening, therefore, as I went to Howth, I sent a clumsily 
 coded telegram to a certain political leader making an 
 appointment for 12 o'clock that night at Wexford, and 
 later that night my comrade and I had the satisfaction of 
 seeing the gunboat making southward under full steam, 
 well out of the way of the events of the morrow. 
 
 It was as well, for our plans that night fell to pieces, 
 
 44
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 and the least interference from sea the next day would 
 have brought the entire enterprise to disaster. That Satur- 
 day evening a fresh wind sprang up from the north-west, 
 and the sea was bestrewn with " the white blossoms of the 
 ocean." At Howth the owner of the motor-boat said 
 that no arrangements had been made, and refused to take 
 out his boat on such a night for any madcap fishing-party. 
 No persuasion could change him, so we had to dismiss 
 our party and make our way back to Dublin. 
 
 Sean McGarry had been in charge of the party, and 
 he was my companion for that night's disappointments. 
 At Dublin he and I took a motor to Kingstown, in the 
 hope to catch the party there. There we saw the gunboat 
 making south, but we found no party there, and met the 
 same experience as at Howth. At about four that morn- 
 ing, tired and disheartened, we turned into the Marine 
 Hotel for a few hours sleep, and by the first train the next 
 morning we made our way back to Howth. There we 
 met the party that had come from Bray, but the boat 
 had been so battered on her voyage that morning that the 
 skipper would not venture to sea again in her. So Sean 
 McGarry posted her crew, who were all armed, at the 
 base of the north pier, to head off any attempt of the 
 Coastguards to make their way round by land. 
 
 §3 
 
 This was about 9.30 a.m., and already the yacht could 
 
 occasionally be seen, as she cruised to and fro on the yonder 
 
 side of Lambay Island. I wondered what Childers was 
 
 thinking of our failure to keep our appointment, and we 
 
 45
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 made every effort to get even a fishing-boat out to sea, but 
 without success. So we confined ourselves within our 
 arrangements on shore, expecting Childers to hold to his 
 time schedule whatever happened. We found a place 
 for the yacht to berth, near the end of the south pier, 
 so that, when her cargo was clear, she might easily ship 
 to sea again, and we disposed our arrangements 
 accordingly. 
 
 Then a little man, with a back like a ramrod, flowing 
 moustache, and steel-grey eyes as clear and relentless as 
 a sword-stroke, stepped up to me, spoke my name, and 
 said he was instructed to report to me and put himself 
 under my orders. He nodded to Sean McGarry at my 
 side, and said he had fifty men with him, armed. I asked 
 him to send couriers up the road to bring me word of the 
 coming of the Volunteers, so to detail his men that at a 
 sign every person on the pier and on boats in the harbour 
 (the pier was full of holiday-makers) might be put under 
 temporary arrest, and tell off others to keep close watch 
 on the Coastguard station on the opposite pier. 
 
 This was Cathal Brugha. I have often diought how 
 characteristic was that first meeting. I might have dropped 
 from the clouds (and, in truth, very largely did) for all he 
 knew of me; but his orders were to put himself at my 
 disposal, and he would have leapt into the sea and swam 
 to the yacht if required to do so. No one could look on 
 that man without perceiving his consuming, terrific, re- 
 lentless courage. He was a born fighter, without a 
 crooked patch in him; a sword in other people's hands, 
 that would be shattered before it would bend; bonny in 
 battle, and the greater the odds the bonnier; and un- 
 
 4 6
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 questioning where he accepted and whom he accepted. 
 One felt contented to know that he and his fifty men 
 were on the pier; contented, though it were the first time 
 one's eyes rested on him, or took the challenge of his own. 
 
 The yacht was now cruising between Lambay and the 
 mainland, tacking to the north, obviously, so as to make 
 straight into the harbour under the nordi-westerly wind 
 on one long south-westerly course. It was now towards 
 12.30, and still there was not a sign of the Volunteers and 
 no news from our couriers. The minutes passed on, and 
 the strain on everyone was manifest on their faces. The 
 Coastguards on the opposite pierhead had their glasses 
 trained on the incoming yacht, at the helm of which, for 
 our accepted sign that all was well, Mrs. Childers sat in 
 a red jersey; and it is probable that the lady at the helm 
 deceived die Coastguards. So 12.35 came, and then 12.40, 
 and still there was no sign from or of the Volunteers. The 
 yacht was now heaving slowly towards us with her sails 
 shipped, slapping the seas, a few cables' length from the 
 pier-head, and our men were taking their places to receive 
 her. 
 
 Then, just as the yacht was oft the pier-head, I heard 
 Sean McGarry beside me say: "Here they are; look at 
 'em; aren't they a beautiful sight?" And they were a 
 beautiful sight as they filed out of the town and marched 
 company by company, across the road at the base of the 
 harbour. There was beauty in their movement, and there 
 was amazing beauty in their extreme punctuality. I told 
 off an orderly to ask their commandant to send them up the 
 pier, company by company, at the double, and signed to 
 Cathal Brugha to make his arrests, when a hawser from 
 
 47
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 the yacht fell across our feet, and a number of our men, 
 running forward, lashed it to the pier. As we drew the 
 yacht to the pierside we heard, behind and beyond us, the 
 solid tramp of hundreds of feet, as the Volunteers came up 
 the pier at the double, and sharp words of command as 
 they were halted and lined in two ranks down the long 
 length of the pier. 
 
 It was not long till the rifles were brought out and 
 passed to the Volunteers. Then a Strange sight was seen, 
 revealing to every doubter, and even to us who never 
 doubted, what ancient national hopes were in the nurture 
 of each man's blood. Seasoned men broke into tears 
 when the first rifle was handed up out of the hold, and 
 the ranks were broken by the rush towards the yacht. 
 When order was restored, the command was given that 
 each rifle should be handed down to the end of the 
 column, but as each man received his rifle he put his foot 
 upon it and passed the next down. 
 
 While this was being done the cry was suddenly raised 
 that a boat-load of Coastguards had crept round beneath 
 the lea of the yachts in the harbour, and had just reached 
 the open space of water that lay around our own yacht. 
 Instantly a number of men lined along the yacht, with 
 their rifles trained on the approaching boat. Challenged 
 to slop and return, the Coastguards did so. In none of 
 these rifles, however, was there a cartridge — though there 
 were revolvers ready for action if the need arose. 
 
 That was the only attempt to interfere, for, after this, 
 the Coastguards were content to signal, by rocket, for a 
 gunboat that was no longer there. The boxes of ammuni- 
 tion were at once taken away by motor; and the yacht 
 
 4 8
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 unloaded, the Volunteers took the road, rifle over 
 shoulder, for a public march into Dublin. 
 
 §4 
 
 My task was done, and I went into the hotel at Howth 
 with Eoin MacNeill to render account. Before I went, 
 however, O'Rahilly came to me eager and enthusiastic, 
 and I explained to him the shabby trick necessity had 
 compelled us to play on him. But he would not hear 
 of apology. Clean, generous man that he was always, 
 all that had been done had been rightly done, he said, 
 for it had come to a right conclusion. 
 
 Unhappily, as it proved, we had not yet made a con- 
 clusion. After we had lunched, Eoin MacNeill took me 
 with him in his car to pick up the column as it made its 
 way to Dublin. We found them on the road resting, and 
 there we met Sean MacDiarmada, anxious at the critical 
 time being wasted. He started the column again in 
 motion, and we joined him in his car, moving continu- 
 ously between the head of the column and Nelson's 
 Pillar as the column approached Dublin and our journey 
 to and fro continually shortened. We were troubled lest 
 troops should be called out. 
 
 On our last journey Eoin MacNeill stepped off at the 
 Pillar, for the head of the column was now within a 
 quarter of a mile, or thereabouts, and all seemed clear. 
 But as we turned back through Earl Street a man ran 
 up to me, where I sat beside the driver, and said that two 
 tram-loads of troops with police had just passed down 
 Abbey Street to meet the advancing column. We raced 
 
 49 E
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 back to the head of the column, and as we reached the 
 Howth Road, down which the column was advancing, we 
 overtook the troops that had just dismounted there. 
 Actually our car made its way through them, and they, not 
 knowing who we were, stood aside for us to let us through. 
 
 So behind us the troops (the King's Own Scottish 
 Borderers, with accompanying Dublin Metropolitan 
 Police) blocked the end of the road, while in the 
 distance we could see the Volunteers marching towards 
 us as we raced towards them. A conflict seemed un- 
 avoidable. When we reached the head of the column 
 the military commandant for the day could not be 
 found, and in the general indecision the column con- 
 tinued on its way. Those at the head of the column, 
 seeing the end of Howth Road barred by a double rank 
 of bayonets, turned to the right down Marino Crescent 
 into the Malahide Road that runs parallel with the Howth 
 Road. At once we saw the military break and turn at 
 the double down the tram road so as to confront the 
 column again. Directly this happened several urged that 
 the rest of the column should continue down the Howth 
 Road, in order to surround the military on both sides, 
 hoping thus to hem them in while the main body of the 
 men made their way into the city. Had this been done 
 the situation would have been entirely changed. The 
 military would have been confined and restricted instead 
 of, as happened, the Volunteers. But in the absence of 
 any kind of direction or command all was confusion; the 
 situation was left to itself, and no clear decision seemed 
 possible just when it was most needed. 
 
 So a small knot of us, including Sean MacDiarmada, 
 
 50
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 Bulmer Hobson, and myself, hurried after the head of the 
 column, that was already confronted by the military, again 
 barring the road. Then, after a time of deadlock and 
 indecision someone in civilian attire (whom I afterwards 
 learned to be David Harrel, the Assistant Commissioner 
 of Police) Stepped forward into the open road between the 
 two forces and asked to know who was in command of 
 the Volunteers. Twice he asked the question and no one 
 answered. The others were, of course, preserving order 
 in the ranks; but the situation was a little tense — a little 
 awkward — when finally I Stepped out to meet him and 
 assumed authority. 
 
 My authority had ended at Howth Pier, but it was 
 necessary that someone should answer. So, not knowing 
 who might come to dispute my assumption with me, I 
 endeavoured to keep within my expired authority. I told 
 him that to march with rifles through an Irish city was 
 not illegal, seeing that such a march had been permitted 
 die Sunday before in Belfast. City with the Ulsler Volun- 
 teers. The only offence of the day had been the illegal 
 landing, and for that I took entire responsibility. I offered 
 myself for arrest, on condition that the men should pro- 
 ceed on their way, since the right that had been allowed 
 in one Irish city clearly could not, a week later, become 
 an offence in anodier Irish city. 
 
 §5 
 
 During this conversation Bulmer Hobson joined me, 
 but, as I remember, left before it was over. Mr. Harrel 
 peremptorily demanded the surrender of our rifles. I 
 
 51
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 would not move from my point of legality and allowance, 
 and, after we had each thrown warnings at each other, 
 the conversation was ended by his slating that he intended 
 to seize the rifles and by his ordering the police to that 
 task. I stepped back and stood with the first: company 
 in the tussle that followed. 
 
 Our men were without ammunition and used their new 
 rifles as clubs, some, including myself, being armed with 
 heavy ashen truncheons as well. It was thus truncheon 
 and helmet against truncheon and club, deft duckings 
 and lusty layings-on. In an effort to come to the rescue 
 of one of our men (a little fellow who was being swung 
 like a pendulum by a huge policeman at the end of his 
 rifle, to which he manfully clung) I was borne to the 
 ground by two policemen, who belaboured my head with 
 their truncheons. Half dazed for the moment, I was 
 captured — when I found myself seized by one of the 
 police themselves and pushed back to my place beside the 
 head of the column, with a whispered adjuration (to my 
 sore head) to " keep to the thinking and leave the fighting 
 alone." 1 
 
 The first attack failed. The police were thrown back 
 in confusion. But our first company was also thrown into 
 confusion, and it was necessary to clear their confused 
 ranks out of the way in order to meet the new attack 
 with the second company. For now the Borderers were 
 
 1 That day, a year later, the same policeman, in private 
 clothes, warned a friend and myself that we were being followed 
 by detectives. And that day, three years later, the same police- 
 man, having by then retired from the force, and myself were 
 organizing Sinn Fein clubs and Volunteer companies in the West. 
 
 52
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 ordered to a bayonet attack, and I have no doubt many 
 another of our line beside me experienced ugly qualms and 
 desperate promptings at the sight of a line of steel borne 
 towards us, not with fine abandon, but at a thoughtful, 
 thought-begetting slow march. Little wonder that some 
 of our men pulled out revolvers and began to fire and that 
 the ranks broke. Yet the fight was held. Give the 
 Borderers their due, they fought with no enthusiasm, and 
 when they heard the firing, and when some of their men 
 fell with bullet wounds, their ranks broke also. If the 
 steel was unpleasant, so was the sound of shooting. In 
 the encounter that followed men fell on each side — the 
 Commandant of the company, standing beside me, re- 
 ceiving, without an effort to move or defend himself, 
 bayonet lunges between the arm and body that were not 
 nice to see. The fighting was broken, desperate and con- 
 fused, but in the end the Borderers also were thrown 
 back. 
 
 §6 
 
 Then Mr. Harrel came forward again, desiring further 
 parley. Swiftly a, plan came into my head. I pointed 
 to the ugly sights on the road and refused to parley 
 there. If he would go to one of the gardens of the 
 houses near which we stood, I would follow him. In 
 the meantime I would restrain our men if he would 
 restrain his. When he was gone I turned to the Comman- 
 dant of the third company, a resolute steady man, told him 
 to extend his men across the road, so as to mask all that 
 passed behind him, and to send runners down the 
 column at once, telling the men, while I held Harrel 
 
 53
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 in conversation, to disperse from the rear as rapidly as 
 possible, taking their rifles with them. 
 
 At any other time there would have been humour in 
 the conversation that followed in the excluded garden. 
 Mr. Harrel was excusably surprised at hearing the entire 
 controversy between North and South entered upon from 
 the beginning, but he was resigned to silence when he 
 found that each of his interruptions caused the amazing 
 argument to return upon those beginnings. In the 
 middle of our argument Thomas MacDonagh joined us, 
 and he, too, protested against its curious irrelevancy. But 
 I was playing desperately for time to complete the 
 manoeuvre that had been put in motion, and all the more 
 desperately because I saw Chief Inspector Dunne seeking 
 by a kind of mime-show to attract Mr. Harrel's attention. 
 Finally the Inspector gave up his signals and drew his 
 Chief's attention to the remarkable circumstance that while 
 we had been discussing the Volunteers had gone, rifles 
 and all. 
 
 Yet they were not all gone. The faithful third com- 
 pany stood awaiting orders, and while Mr. Harrel began 
 to complain of a " discreditable manoeuvre," I ran to its 
 Commandant and told him to dismiss and disperse his 
 men as quickly as possible. 1 
 
 Instantly his command rang out, calling his faithful 
 
 1 Two years after this, in Reading gaol, I learned from 
 Arthur Griffith that he was in the ranks of this third company. 
 He told me that the commandant's name was Kerrigan, and 
 that he had been an old so'dier. We agreed that his coolness 
 and steadiness were the feature, as they were the salvation, of 
 that day. 
 
 54
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 company to attention. It was apparent on every face 
 that his men knew what was coming, and almost within 
 seconds of their dismissal they had melted miraculously 
 away, leaping over the wall of the park beside which we 
 stood, and running quickly down the turning through 
 which we had come. For a few moments there was the 
 noise of the scurry of their going, and then all was still 
 in their absence. 
 
 So, of all our Howth Company, I was left alone on 
 the road, with the Borderers and the police still 
 indomitably holding the pass against me. Less from a 
 reasoned policy than from intuition I did not go my way, 
 however, as I could quite easily have done, but continued 
 walking to and fro across the road. It seemed to me that 
 while I remained the military and police would also 
 remain, and that they were better occupied standing there 
 in idleness than in searching the neighbourhood. Behind 
 them, in the distance, across the main road, stood the 
 large crowd that had collected. I had been too occupied 
 to notice them before then, but no one could help noticing 
 them now, for they had seen all that had passed, and 
 they were shouting with challenge and exultation at the 
 armed forces that stretched between them and me. It 
 was through them that the military would have to pass 
 on their way back, and it was patent that the passage 
 would not be happy, though no one could foresee how 
 fatally it would end. 
 
 My intuition proved correct, for as I walked to and fro, 
 Mr. Harrel and his officers, military and police, walked 
 opposite me, manifestly determined that they would not 
 be the first to leave. Then a rider on a horse came to me. 
 
 55
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 He was in Volunteer uniform, and he asked for further 
 orders, saying that the rifles that had been flung into 
 the bushes of the park were being collected and showed 
 away in the houses round about. I urged him to phone 
 to Dublin, and to order every available taxi-cab and 
 motor, so as to get the rifles without delay to safer places. 
 I did not know that the others were already busy at this 
 task, and, indeed, that all the undertakers also were being 
 requisitioned for hearses and coffins, in which rifles were 
 removed to Dublin during the better part of that evening 
 and night. I suppose everybody knew the cause of the 
 extraordinary number of funerals that night, but all the 
 people had, in a manner we were yet in later years to 
 learn so well, become confederates in the secret work, and 
 in the upshot not more than nineteen rifles were found 
 to be missing. In recompense for these, six rifles had 
 been captured from the Scottish Borderers — a more than 
 sufficient exchange. 
 
 Thomas MacDonagh and Bulmer Hobson then 
 appeared on the scene from the work on which they had 
 been engaged. By this time a number of couriers had 
 been engaged, and they came to and fro with whispered 
 messages, some pretended, some real; and while we re- 
 mained there the military and police also remained, until 
 at lasl: we heard the Borderers called to attention, and 
 saw them marched through the crowd that swarmed 
 about them crying imprecations upon them. 
 
 The excitement had now passed, and I was sick and 
 dizzy with the thwacking my head had received. So, 
 leaving the others, I made my way back to my hotel. 
 There I lay in bed, when, at ten that night, Colonel 
 
 56
 
 TWO FATEFUL SUNDAYS 
 
 Moore, Inspector-General of the Irish Volunteers, and 
 Colonel Cotter, Chief of Staff, came saying that they had 
 inquired concerning the day's proceedings, and had had 
 some difficulty in finding me. They insisted on the 
 necessity of my going with them to the papers to give 
 an authoritative account of all that had occurred. Par- 
 ticularly was this necessary, they urged, because of the 
 later events of the day, and for the first time, then, I 
 learned from diem that the Borderers, followed on their 
 way back to barracks by a hostile crowd, had turned and 
 fired upon them, with loss of life. 
 
 Indeed, the necessity of such an account had already 
 been apparent to me; but what had also been apparent 
 to me was that the prominence into which I had so 
 strangely been flung that day would (human nature being 
 what it is) probably be the cause of bitterness in some 
 bones. I had already felt tliis before I had left the others. 
 It was intelligible enough, for I had come that day into 
 the midst of action from an outer desert, but I was 
 certainly not disposed to invite more bitterness than I 
 had already earned. Colonel Moore, however, character- 
 istically put all this down to a sick head, and the two of 
 them took me out with them, putting me under their 
 orders. 
 
 It was as well they did so. Our statement that night 
 displaced an official account which, with scattered and 
 fragmentary stories pieced together, would not have 
 proved comforting to us. To be sure, there are as many 
 parts to a tale as there are tellers to tell it, and the phil- 
 osopher has said that truth lies at the bottom of a well. Our 
 statement merely recorded what I had seen exactly as I 
 
 57
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 remembered to have seen it. I have not seen it since I 
 read it the following morning as I returned to London. 
 Yet, as I was the only person at the head of our column 
 from beginning to end of the action, and as the other 
 side attacked and argued by different numbers, I certainly 
 was the only person who could see it all of a piece and 
 tell the different parts of it together. 
 
 58
 
 T 
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 §i 
 
 ^HE task entrusted to me was completed, and nothing 
 remained to keep me in Dublin. Troubled by re- 
 minders awaiting me in London of articles and reviews 
 long overdue, I returned, therefore, by the mail early the 
 following morning, reaching London that night in time 
 for a debate at Westminster that seemed to me, hot-foot 
 from the scenes of which it dealt, as remote and unreal 
 as the mountains of the moon. 
 
 I found London shaken by the news from Ireland. I 
 knew the minds of many of those in London letters and 
 journalism on Irish politics. Arguments hitherto had 
 left these minds unmoved — they had merely stirred 
 traditional arguments in answer — but now I found that 
 a breath of action had blown many clouds away. There 
 was no mistaking the change. It was not a mere change 
 of opinion, but rather a change from an attitude of dis- 
 respect to one of respect. Unfortunately it had little time 
 to develop before Europe found herself at war. 
 
 I had hardly contemplated the arrears of work that 
 awaited me than, on Wednesday, I received a telegram 
 from Ireland asking me to cross at once. In Ireland I 
 found the scene even more remarkably changed. Political 
 boundaries had disappeared, having been submerged by 
 a rising tide of sympathy and indignation. The Irish 
 
 59
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Volunteers, instead of being a cause of division, had 
 become the symbol of a new unity. This was not the 
 desperate unity of six years later, when the people were 
 knit together by the terror that raised its head among 
 them. It was something free and expressed, spontaneous 
 and comradely, the old landmarks having been washed 
 away by waters rising from wells deeply stirred. 
 Nationalist and Unionist, Sinn Feinach and Parlia- 
 mentarian, had forgotten the distinctions tiiat had 
 separated them. If a political miracle could have accom- 
 panied the emotional, and political freedom have then and 
 there been planted in the country, it is difficult to say to 
 what height that annealment of spirit might not have 
 risen. But miracles do not happen, and that which had 
 brought unity was shortly to bring a disunity even pro- 
 founder than before. 
 
 The change had spread even to Ulster. While I was 
 in Ireland during these days I was invited by a friend 
 to meet the executive heads of the Ulster Volunteers in 
 Belfast, and it was explained that the meeting would be, 
 not with those who shone in the social and political world, 
 but with the workers, with those whose work had made 
 the force what it was. I went, of course. There were 
 some who regarded my going as either treachery or a 
 defilement — perhaps both; but to me the memory of that 
 meeting is a very pleasant one, and I brought awav the 
 warmest sense of friendship from it. 
 
 There were about sixty or seventy present, nearly all 
 of them men in whom responsibility had tempered the 
 asperities of politics, men to whom authority had brought 
 a wider outlook than the past had taught them. They 
 
 60
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 were good fighters, but they were also hospitable fighters, 
 who took hard knocks as comely as they gave them. 
 They began, I remember, by contemptuously contrasting 
 the Howth gun-running with their own exploit at Larne. 
 I admitted the disparity; but I drew their attention to the 
 fa<5l that we had suffered from two disabilities from which 
 they had by good fortune been relieved. The first was 
 that Government officials had not been accessory to our 
 task, and the second was that we were plain, poor folk, 
 whom the wealthy and the notable had not patronized. 
 At that they bridled, as befitted men in v/hom the stuff 
 of independence lay. With that we passed to a frank 
 discussion of our difference, and, because of the very 
 frankness of that discussion, we found that our likeness 
 was not less than our difference. We did not, to be sure, 
 remove that difference or attempt to do so, but we shook 
 hands when we had fought, and there is better virtue 
 in that exchange than will ever be found in trim con- 
 formity. 
 
 Yet in that very city I heard the news that was to bring 
 a greater distance between us than there had been in the 
 past. It was there that I saw the news on the placards, 
 and heard the newsboys harshly calling, that England 
 had declared war on Germany. 
 
 §2 
 
 It needed no uncommon prescience to perceive (even 
 though not many at that time expected the war to last 
 more than a few months) that nothing after that news 
 would be as it had been before. Neither for any nation, 
 
 61
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 nor for any person, could the past, be relied on with any 
 certitude. Continuity was everywhere being broken, and, 
 in great affairs and in small, critical questions were every- 
 where being presented for decision with the oncoming 
 of violence in Europe. 
 
 I was only one among tens of thousands to whom such 
 a decision came during these unsettled days, and it came 
 presenting an antique way-worn alternative. It came 
 in the form of two offers, both of which arrived within 
 a few days of each other. The first was an offer from a 
 London newspaper to represent it in Europe, and it was 
 profitable. The second was a letter from Colonel Moore 
 asking me to undertake the honorary position of 
 Inspecting Officer of the Irish Volunteers in Co. Mayo. 
 A decision was not to be taken between such alternatives 
 without some heart-searching, for the war had aroused 
 England to her depths, and to go to Ireland in such cir- 
 cumstances meant (among other things, friendly and 
 craftsmanlike) not only to relinquish a covetable offer, 
 but to abandon one's career without the prospect of any- 
 thing to look to for a livelihood. It meant sundering 
 everything, and it meant going a road on which no 
 return could be made. 
 
 Many hours were afterwards to arise when the choice 
 then taken would tempt and taunt me and would be 
 waived away. Good for us, perhaps, that passing bitter- 
 ness cannot undo a decision once taken ; but whether good 
 or ill, so it is. It happened at the time that that year I 
 had built a cottage for myself in Achill, and this fact made 
 it possible for my wife and myself to decide that I should 
 undertake the work suggested by Colonel Moore. 
 
 62
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 We therefore returned to Ireland, and I spent some 
 days in Dublin in order to be instructed in the duties of 
 my work, and to learn how the organization of the Volun- 
 teers in Co. Mayo stood. During these days, however, 
 a situation developed out of which great matters were to 
 flow, sweeping away the very ground on which any 
 decision had been taken. 
 
 Some time before the gun-running at Howth, John 
 Redmond had put forward his demand that an equal 
 number of his own nominees should be added to the 
 Provisional Committee of the Volunteers. With the 
 expectation of arms that demand had been conceded, 
 though its admission had nearly split the new movement. 
 The two sides, therefore, that contended for the control 
 of the Volunteers were joined together to make one single 
 executive. The union, to be sure, did not prove an extra- 
 ordinary success; but contention was kept to the com- 
 mittee room — until the Howth gun-running, and the fatal 
 events that followed it, washed out, or for a time seemed 
 to wash out, all differences. With feeling running high 
 through the country, each side vied with the other to 
 head it and give it voice. But with the outbreak of the 
 European war all this was quickly changed. John 
 Redmond, as the constitutional leader, led Ireland into the 
 war by the side of England, whereas those who had con- 
 ceived and created the Volunteers remembered the old 
 rede that " England's difficulty was Ireland's oppor- 
 tunity." Between the two sides, then, the contest was 
 resumed with a bitterness that outmatched anything that 
 had preceded. 
 
 Yet, even then, the situation might have been saved, 
 
 63
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 not only in Ireland, but over a wider area still. For the 
 contest took two aspects to itself. The first was that 
 which concerned the immediate political prospect; the 
 second swung on Ireland's attitude towards the world- 
 wide problems of the war, and the second was governed 
 by the first. The Home Rule Bill of that time had passed 
 all its stages, but it had not yet been enacted, and it was 
 claimed in England that, as a contentious measure, it 
 should remain suspended until the war was over. Beyond 
 question, had John Redmond insisted on its being not 
 only enacted, but put into operation as the price of 
 Ireland's participation in the war, he must have carried 
 his point. He really was in the position of a dictator, for 
 England was faced by the gravest peril of her history, and 
 the mere suggestion of trouble in Ireland would have 
 gained him his point had he pushed his advantage to 
 the utmost. 
 
 No doubt it was partly the very strength of his position 
 that caused him to stay his hand, for there is in every 
 excess of strength its own weakness, and relentless oppor- 
 tunities paralyze the will. Anyway, he did not press his 
 advantage beyond insisting that the Bill should be 
 inscribed in the Statute Book, whereas (as time has 
 proved) he would have served both countries best had he 
 insisted that the Act, with all its limitations, be put into 
 force, for the wave of enthusiasm that this would have 
 created would have swept the nation and might have 
 prevented all that was to follow. 
 
 However, these are idle reflections. The fact remains 
 that this was not done. The " Act safely on the Statute 
 Book " became the butt of every bitter humorist, and 
 
 6 4
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 the Volunteers were split in twain. At first that split 
 was apparent only at headquarters, and the rank and 
 file, full of enthusiasm, were not aware of the wrangles 
 that took place at each meeting of the Provisional Com- 
 mittee. But when John Redmond took occasion of a 
 parade of Volunteers at Woodenbridge, in Co. Wicklow, 
 on the 20th of September, to make a recruiting speech, it 
 was decided by the original members of the Provisional 
 Committee (or so many of them as could be relied on to 
 act together) to eject John Redmond's nominees. 
 
 A moment was chosen when an announcement to that 
 effect would make the greatest noise. Mr. Asquith was 
 due to speak with John Redmond at the Mansion House, 
 Dublin, on the night of the 24th of September, and, the 
 night before, a statement was issued by the greater 
 number of the original members of die Provisional Com- 
 mittee that John Redmond's nominees would no longer 
 be deemed to form part of that committee, that the 
 original constitution of the Volunteers would be resumed, 
 and that a Convention would be called to elect a new 
 committee, which would be entrusted with the formula- 
 tion of a sound national policy. 
 
 §3 
 
 So, within a few hours of my arrival in Dublin to take 
 up the duties to which I had been assigned, and for 
 which I had put aside the work to which I had until a 
 few weeks before held myself in fee, I found myself 
 confronted by a situation that seemed to empty my act 
 of its meaning. It was one thing to think of differences 
 
 65 F
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 clear and intelligible in Dublin; it was quite another to 
 consider their effect on the people in the country, where 
 their very alphabet was unknown. There is in every 
 country a tendency to think of the capital as a microcosm 
 of the nation, and in every country the assumption is 
 false. Particularly false is it in Ireland, where perhaps 
 the tendency is more pronounced than it is elsewhere. 
 My life during the past, few years had made me more 
 susceptible to the thought of the country than to that of 
 the capital. Indeed, the one was fairly familiar to me, 
 whereas the elaborate network of the other was quite un- 
 known. I knew, therefore, that the issue that was ripe 
 enough in Dublin would be as unintelligible in Mayo as 
 a Hebrew psalm. And since men will not rally around a 
 cause they do not wholly understand, I saw only too 
 clearly that the consequence of the intelligible con- 
 flict between the two sections in Dublin would be un- 
 intelligible in the country, resulting in the disappearance 
 of the Volunteers. 
 
 I had, therefore, my own decision to take — a decision 
 that was to bring bitter criticisms on me in after-years. 
 It was not an easy decision to make. On one side stood 
 Eoin MacNeill, with whom my inclination and judgment 
 lay. On the other side stood Colonel Moore, who had 
 ranged himself with John Redmond, and from whom I 
 held my command. I therefore went to both men 
 frankly. I made no disguise where I stood myself; but 
 I pointed out that, if the Volunteers in Mayo were to be 
 held together, controversy must be kept out of the ranks 
 until time had brought some knowledge of the matters 
 about which it was being waged. I proposed, therefore, 
 
 66
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 that I should bind myself to each of them not to commit 
 myself publicly to either side for a period of three months, 
 and to take up my command on the understanding that 
 I was not to permit the raising of the issue among the 
 Volunteers in Mayo during that time. 
 
 Each of the two men agreed with this course of action, 
 each knowing that die other had also agreed. Each of 
 them authorized me to act on that understanding, and 
 said that no action would be taken from either side to 
 injure the task that I was to attempt. On my arrival in 
 Mayo I told the County Committee what I had done, 
 and its members, and the men whom they had been 
 elected to represent, were glad that a path had been 
 found out of difficulties that they regarded as disaster. 
 To the County Committee I proposed that I should now 
 hold my command as from it, and that its members 
 should also be pledged not to commit themselves publicly 
 to either side. 
 
 For some weeks, therefore, the Volunteers in Mayo 
 were held together, working heartily and happily and 
 without strife. The strife in Dublin had, of course, its 
 echoes among us, but there was an anxious, even a pain- 
 ful, desire to keep it from invading us. There were 
 during these weeks no less than some five thousand men 
 enrolled in the Volunteers in the county, and everywhere, 
 among the rank and file, the men kept faith with one 
 another and with the decision we all had taken. 
 
 Our good fortune, however, was not to continue. 
 After some weeks letters appeared in the local press from 
 my own friends in Dublin denouncing me, asserting that 
 I held no authority whatever from the MacNeill Volun- 
 
 6 7
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 tcers, as they then were known. To give them their due, 
 the other side said nothing, and left me to enjoy my dis- 
 comfiture in my own side of our house. That discomfi- 
 ture was complete. By my own pledge was I bound to 
 silence. The fad: that my own side of the house attacked 
 me (and attacked me with some virulence, as one who 
 evaded the taking of sides) did not absolve me from my 
 word given to Colonel Moore — an undertaking that I 
 intended faithfully to observe until I had been freely re- 
 leased from it, as in honour due. Therefore, I could 
 only point out what were the facts, and appeal directly to 
 Eoin MacNeill, who did not know what had happened. 
 The attack then ceased, but by that time the damage had 
 been done. Controversy and bitterness had come, the 
 best of the men dropped out of the ranks, the force 
 melted away, and where, in October, five thousand might 
 have been mobilized in the county, by the end of the year 
 not one entire company remained. 
 
 Thus the very ground on which my decision to return 
 to Ireland had been taken was now swept away. In my 
 cottage in Achill, therefore, as far from intrigues in 
 Dublin and wars in Europe as I could well be, once 
 again I took up my notebooks and returned to my craft, 
 ill-pleased that I should ever have forsaken it, and never 
 dreaming that I should again be taken and uncere- 
 moniously flung anew into the hurly-burly. 
 
 §4 
 
 Not for another eighteen months, however, was this to 
 be. During those eighteen months I moved out of Achill 
 
 68
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 but twice. Circumstance, indeed, did not allow of re- 
 moval. London editors, personal friends many of them, 
 assumed fronts of brass before one whose allegiance in 
 that hour of national peril was not the same as theirs. 
 Who could blame them? When old comrades of many 
 a hunt, to whom one sent one's newest book, fresh from 
 the mint, sent back a message that those who stood not 
 with their nation ranked as personal foes, to whom hand 
 would not be extended nor acknowledgment given, it 
 was not surprising that the papers for which one had 
 written should intimate that their columns were reserved 
 for contributors who sang the same tune as they and in 
 the same key. But the consequence was that there was 
 not time or liberty for movement. 
 
 Fortunately, I had three contracts for books, and as 
 there would be no aids to the exchequer till these were 
 completed, I was held fast to my desk. In Achill, how- 
 ever, one is not utterly dependent on these aids. There 
 were wild goats in the cliffs, game of sundry sorts on the 
 mountains, and fish in the sea; and on many an occasion, 
 when circumstance was untoward, the gun, the rod, and 
 the deep-sea line helped us to stock the larder when other 
 methods had failed. I do not pretend that it was 
 pleasant, and I could not turn to the eternal shift of 
 imagining myself a hero to escape from feeling a fool. 
 
 Nevertheless, these months live in my memory as 
 among the richest, as certainly they were the peace- 
 fullest, of my life. It was a most fortunate thing that I 
 had built that cottage just when I did. I do not think 
 there can be another house in the world standing amid a 
 scene of such wild and natural beauty. It is built on a 
 
 6 9
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 bray above the headland running out into the waters of 
 the Atlantic. Just off the headland, opposite our cottage, 
 lies the little island of Inishgallun, capped above its wild, 
 rock-bound sides with grass of the brightest, green, over 
 which the waves of the terrific winter storms would break 
 in high cascades of spray. In the distance, to the south, 
 lies Clew Bay, with the beautiful shape of Clare Island at 
 all times to be seen, like a ghostly phantasy floating on 
 the waters, and, when the waters lie quietly at peace and 
 sunlight floods the bay, Inishbofin and little islands lying 
 further to the south, with the mountains of Connemara 
 frowning in the distance. 
 
 Some two miles to the west, across our own little bay, 
 the mighty cliffs of Meenawn, known as the Cathedral 
 Cliffs, rise sheer above the waters and shut off the 
 inland of Achill. Behind the cottage bends a great bow 
 of mountains, from the broad-based mass of Cruachan in 
 the west swinging round to form the northern backbone 
 of Achill to the highland behind Meenawn. Over these 
 mountains, through a valley among the bogs, the road to 
 the mainland wanders and disappears over the highland 
 in the distance. 
 
 One lived very near to Earth during these months, 
 and it proved a chastening experience. During the 
 winter, when tempests swept upon us from the Atlantic, 
 our cottage groaned and creaked like a ship at sea. 
 Often it seemed as though no mortal structure could 
 withstand the recurring blasts that came. Indeed, I have 
 seen strong men, bending to resist those blasts, spun 
 helplessly into the ditch beside the road. Then the ocean 
 was like writhing serpents at play, the waves ruining 
 
 70
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 onward like mountains with flying manes to break 
 against the torn rocks of the coast in soaring columns of 
 spray, while the bays and inlets were thick with foam 
 uplifted and suddenly downfallen on the crests and in 
 the trough of huge rollers whose booming sounded above 
 every other noise of the storm. And all the time hurri- 
 canes of rain went shrieking by over the land and mighty 
 buffets of wind echoed about the mountains. 
 
 Never was Earth so savagely turbulent as on that tree- 
 less island bare to all Atlantic storms. Yet never could 
 Earth be so tender or so ecstatically beautiful. In the 
 winter itself pet-days would suddenly come, and during 
 the spring and summer long spells would continue, when 
 peace and beauty would wear so exquisite a loveliness 
 that it was hard to conceive that it could ever be 
 shattered. During the day, when the ocean idly lapped 
 the shore, and sunlight steeped land and sea, the air be- 
 tween heaven and earth was as full of subtle beauties as 
 an opal. And often at nights I stood by the hour gazing 
 motionless on the vast stretch of land and sea flooded by 
 moonlight, the mountains standing up against the sky 
 like tall ghosts, and the ocean glinting as far as eye could 
 reach like the spears of a countless host. Deep, inward 
 peace pervaded such scenes, and if one spoke at all, one 
 spoke reluctantly and very softly. 
 
 Moments such as these are not for naught. Nothing 
 can efface their memory for those who have shared them. 
 Often during the years that followed, when troubles 
 darkened and hours of bitterness came almost too great 
 to be borne, my mind went back to them and rested amid 
 them in the assurance that Earth has of herself a beauty 
 
 7i
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 greater than any that man, with his petty strife and ambi- 
 tion, can possibly hope to bring her. We vex her with 
 our gifts and add nothing to her loveliness and dignity. 
 
 §5 
 
 Amid such scenes, during the early months of 1915, I 
 wrote my novel " Children of Earth " — wrote it too 
 quickly, under the pressure of a contract, and, therefore, 
 sent it out untrimmed and untutored. Yet, with all its 
 faults, and even because of its gnarled redundancy, it 
 reflects, I think, the wild scenes and the strong life of 
 which it dealt. 
 
 While it kept me occupied, however, Europe was torn 
 with war, and earnest men in Dublin were planning to 
 take occasions of that war to win national deliverance. 
 I knew nothing of their plans — knew nothing till the 
 storm broke which they had so carefully and so patiently 
 prepared — would not, indeed, have been entrusted with 
 knowledge, because I had failed to take sides energetically 
 and emphatically at the first hint of divisions. Besides, I 
 was divorced from understanding and knowledge by my 
 enforced exile, and I afterwards learned, indeed, that I 
 was doubly divorced; for the fact that I lived in Achill, 
 and never moved thence, was judged by many to be 
 strange and extraordinary, and, therefore, sinister. We 
 are all apt to look for fantastic psychologies to expound 
 the movements of men when the plain facts of livelihood 
 are generally adequate. 
 
 However, it was not only my own side that harboured 
 these thoughts. To Dublin Castle my presence on the 
 
 72
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 western sea-coast, while war raged in Europe, was judged 
 to merit the worst possible interpretation. Had I not 
 built my cottage during the summer of diat year? 
 Clearly I must have known the war was coming. It was 
 true that while others planned to make a national revolu- 
 tion, I planned merely to make books, and to get con- 
 tracts for their making. True, I seldom heard from 
 friends in Dublin. Yet I was soon to learn that they and 
 I were held impartially in official regard, and the incident 
 by which that knowledge came to me is worth record, for 
 out of what lay at the back of it very much of Irish history 
 has been made. 
 
 It happened one wild night in January, 1915. An 
 Atlantic storm was crying about the house, and hurri- 
 canes of wind were lashing the windows with spray and 
 sleet, when two strangers stumbled over the bog through 
 the inky darkness to our door. The leader of the two 
 men announced himself as Captain MacBride, and said 
 that he was the owner of a steam-yacht, on which he was 
 cruising about the west coast of Ireland in pursuit of 
 suitable fishing. His comrade, who spoke with a strong 
 American accent, was introduced as the skipper of his 
 yacht. He himself, as his name denoted, he said, was 
 an Irishman, but he had spent the greater part of his life 
 out of the country. 
 
 We are accustomed, in the west of Ireland, to accord 
 travellers the best of such hospitality as is available. 
 After Captain MacBride and his skipper had supped, 
 while we sat about the hearth-fire with glasses of punch, 
 he became more communicative. He had spent the 
 greater part of his days, he informed us, in the Chilean 
 
 73
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 army, which he had helped to train. The Chilean army, 
 I was to understand, was extraordinarily efficient. Little 
 wonder. I was, of course, aware that the Chilean army 
 was officered largely by Germans. And he lifted from 
 my mantelpiece a little bust of Beethoven, and gently 
 extolled the greatness of German gifts to the world. 
 
 I sought fuller information regarding his cruise. Had 
 he not found it difficult to come across the Atlantic 
 during a time of war? He had, he said; but, he added, 
 he was an American citizen, and but for the fortunate 
 circumstance that his yacht was registered under the 
 American flag, and that he himself and his skipper were 
 bearers of American passports, he would never have been 
 able to manage. As it was, he was being considerably 
 annoyed, and only frequent appeals to the American 
 Embassy in London kept him under a continual im- 
 munity. Branching suddenly aside, then, he repeated 
 that he was in search of good fishing. The waters there- 
 about were good for pollagh fishing, were they not? I 
 said that they undoubtedly were, and he suggested that 
 while he was engaged at his sport he would be glad to 
 make my acquaintance more fully. 
 
 He made a quaint picture. He was less like a German 
 than a caricature of a German. He wore German leg- 
 gings, a German military coat, his moustaches were 
 brushed upward in the fiercest and most approved 
 fashion, and he spoke with the strongest and most un- 
 disguised of German accents. While he spoke a knock 
 fell on the kitchen door, and when I went to see what 
 was there, one of the men from the village, who usually 
 tended the house, entered quickly to say that he had 
 
 74
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 made his way across the bog to tell me that the house 
 was surrounded by the police. I was told, however, that 
 I was to let my mind rest easy, for the young men of 
 the village had marked the police, and had also sur- 
 rounded them. 
 
 The concern of the police was certainly not surprising. 
 Any mere stranger would have excited it, however 
 innocent his enterprise and procedure. But for one who 
 spoke with the accent my guest made no effort to 
 disguise, who went on his journeys so remarkably 
 attired, and cruised our waters on a steam-yacht look- 
 ing for pollagh fishing while January's storms lashed the 
 seas to fury, and the nations of Europe rent one another 
 asunder, a little attention was surely merited. 
 
 When I informed our guest of what I had learned, he 
 said he was not surprised. He was becoming inured to 
 these attentions. In fact two British cruisers, unfor- 
 tunately, accompanied his yacht wherever it went. Occa- 
 sionally they fired across his bows, and their crews 
 searched his craft. They were looking, he believed, for 
 Sir Roger Casement. No; they had not found him. 
 His yacht was a liberal craft; Sir Roger Casement might 
 be there all the time, and yet not be found. Nothing 
 would give him greater pleasure than that my wife and 
 I should take a return of our hospitality on his yacht. 
 
 While he spoke, one thought only held my mind. It 
 was that Mr. David Harrel (whom I had encountered at 
 Clontarf, and who had been resigned from the Assistant- 
 Commissionership of the Dublin Metropolitan Police 
 because of that day's work) had, a few weeks before, 
 been appointed an officer of the Royal Naval Reserve, 
 
 75
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 and I had already been informed from Dublin that his 
 particular charge was the organization of secret service 
 in care of coast surveillance. I therefore spoke little (and 
 indeed he did not require much encouragement), but I 
 instantly avowed my esteem and regard for Roger 
 Casement. 
 
 He fired to that theme. He also, he said, had the high 
 honour of Sir Roger Casement's friendship, and he held 
 no purpose dearer than to help and befriend both him 
 and his cause. He proceeded, then, to inveigh against 
 the British and the French. He had travelled widely, 
 and it was his opinion that French culture was only a 
 veneer, whereas the British had none at all. . . . 
 
 At last he rose to go, and invited us warmly to stay 
 with him for some days on his yacht, where she lay 
 anchored in peaceful waters ofT Salia. We instantly 
 accepted his invitation, and two days afterwards, when 
 we were due to go, I wired regretting the illness of my 
 wife. Within a week he was back again. He came, 
 accompanied by a line of constables on bicycles, who 
 cruised about the village in the pretence that they had 
 come on other business altogether. It was, I thought, 
 a master-stroke not to let the police be privy to the purpose 
 of his coming, for their busy anxiety made a very pretty 
 mask that might well have beguiled the unwary. 
 
 Once again Captain MacBride shared our hospitality. 
 Once again we were invited to his yacht. Once again 
 we accepted eagerly. And once again my wife fell 
 inopportunely ill. 
 
 After that we saw him no more. Some years later I 
 was told (with what truth I know not) that he was the 
 
 7 6
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 same Captain MacBride who won an unpleasant notoriety 
 while in command of the Barralong. But within a week 
 of his second visit the villages were placarded with notices 
 that, in view of a possible attack by the German fleet on 
 the coast, the people were to hold themselves in instant 
 readiness to remove themselves and their goods inland 
 on a few hours' instruction to that effect. 1 
 
 Men stood in knots discussing this amazing tidings, 
 and lamentations rose from the women, who saw ruin 
 and starvation before them. Imprecations broke out 
 against Captain MacBride and his yacht, and anger at 
 last centred upon me, because he had visited me. I, 
 therefore, at once called the people together and pointed 
 out the utter absurdity of the notices, saying that their 
 only intention could be to alarm the people and breed 
 mutual suspicion. In a trice, then, anger turned upon 
 the police, who found it wise for a while to keep to their 
 barracks. 
 
 I knew from this visit, however, that the Intelligence 
 Service of Dublin Castle had me in its care. I do not 
 mean the police, who buzzed about like flies looking 
 about for something on which to alight, each of them 
 creating more annoyance in a day than a wise man could 
 hope to appease in a month, but those in control at head- 
 quarters. Their forefinger had surely indicated me, and 
 that indication was not to be without its certain 
 consequences. 
 
 1 The same notice was placarded throughout the greater part 
 of the Irish coast-line, and whether it had any connection with 
 the coast-wise cruise of the steam-yacht I do not, of course, 
 know. No one doubted the connection in Achill. 
 
 77
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Having regard to all that had happened, and particu- 
 larly to the fact that my convictions were well-known, 
 this was not surprising. But it took some surprising 
 forms. Every little creek of the gnarled headland on 
 which my house stood was searched constantly for traces 
 of the submarines with which I was supposed to traffic, 
 though the most landlubberly glance could see that a 
 circumspect submarine commander would never have 
 ventured his craft within a hundred yards of it. And 
 when, that winter, I put above the cottage a new sort of 
 chimney-cowl, the police could be seen for weeks on the 
 hills behind the cottage inspecting this new device through 
 their glasses, anxious to discover what manner of signal- 
 ling apparatus it might be. For so they expressed their 
 conviction to my neighbours, who bore the startling dis- 
 covery to me in a twinkling. 
 
 §6 
 
 During that summer of 1915 I first met Michael 
 O'Callaghan. He was afterwards Mayor of Limerick, 
 and, during the days of the " terror " in 1921, he was 
 done to death most brutally by Black-and-Tans even 
 while his wife sought to shield and protect him. He 
 was then on holiday in Achill; a business man who neither 
 desired nor held any place in politics. 
 
 The friendship made then was one that I was to 
 treasure deeply, and the memory of which must always 
 remain for me as one of the possessions that men keep 
 in a secret place apart, to draw forth and survey when 
 tides run strangely. To know him was to love him. He 
 
 78
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 once described Ardiur Griffith to me as a rock among 
 men. The descriptions men give of those whom they most 
 admire are often best clues to their own characters, and 
 certainly no one could better have described Michael 
 O'Callaghan himself. He had a mind of rare and un- 
 assuming independence. He took his judgments from 
 none, being little influenced by the common run of opinion. 
 He framed them for himself. When asked for them, 
 he delivered his mind with energy of manner and close- 
 knit sequence of logic, yet he seldom offered them till 
 they were sought, but went his own way in the light 
 of his own vigorous, robust common sense. He was that 
 rarer thing than a leader of men. He was a supremely 
 great citizen, neither obdurate and recalcitrant nor sub- 
 servient and pliant, and because of that, when he died, 
 his loss was one that could not be measured, especially 
 among a people where the opposites of obduracy and 
 subserviency are the rule. Above all, he was intensely 
 vital. He is now three years dead, yet, so vital was he, 
 his death seems still unbelievable, and if he were to 
 walk into this room even while I write, his presence would 
 be less of a surprise than seems the conception of his 
 absence. 
 
 After he had gone we corresponded fairly regularly, 
 and at his invitation I went to Limerick the following 
 February to lecture on the financial consequences of the 
 war to Ireland, dragged as we were at the rear of British 
 war-taxation with our infinitely smaller resources. After 
 the lecture he took me with him to the house of John 
 Daly, a Fenian hero who had spent bitter years in gaol 
 with Tom Clarke, and who now lived in the hope of 
 
 79
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 seeing Ireland arise in armed revolt. In proof of his 
 constant hope, John Daly produced for me one of the 
 rifles I had inspected in Liege, one of the rifles of the 
 gun-running at Howth. He was an old man, enfeebled 
 by his sufferings and stricken in years, yet he laughed 
 like a boy as he fondled that rifle. It was, he said, one 
 of the signs of Ireland's hope, and he prayed to see the 
 day when it might be called to service. 
 
 While he and I spoke, Michael remarked to one of the 
 daughters of the house that he had seen none of them at 
 the lecture. What was the use of such lectures, was the 
 reply. Ireland would be an independent Republic in less 
 than three months, and then we would be able to make 
 our own financial provisions, without subservient appeals 
 to England. Casually and quietly was this said, as though 
 one were to announce that the next day might prove wet. 
 To be sure, one person's cause of astonishment is the 
 next person's commonplace, but the saying, and the cold 
 contempt of its delivery, threw a silence over the com- 
 pany. That the words were not idly said was apparent, 
 moreover, from the significant glances that were ex- 
 changed about the darkened room, and already in that 
 atmosphere my laboured statistics began to wear an air 
 of nonsensical phantasy, shrivelled before the faith that 
 reigned there as leaves shrivel before a fire. 
 
 That night Michael and I consumed many pipes in 
 talk about that casual intimation, but we could make 
 nothing of it. We had not the bricks to build the world 
 that the household we had lately left expected so happily 
 to inhabit. From every point of view we surveyed the 
 matter, but we were baffled at every turn, and by the 
 
 80
 
 THE EUROPEAN WAR 
 
 next morning much talk had put it out of our minds. 
 In his rapid, gusty manner, Michael laughed at the words, 
 and then quickly added of their speaker, what all Ireland 
 now knows to be true of her, that she was not one to 
 speak idly or to greet desperate action other than heartily 
 and happily. 
 
 On my return to Achill I took up again the book at 
 which I was at work. It was due to be delivered by May, 
 but it was violently interrupted, and has never been con- 
 tinued. While Easter hove toward, I delved deep in 
 Calendars of State Papers, finding them packed with so 
 many tangled interests that it was difficult to hold the 
 trail that it was my concern to follow. About a fortnight 
 before Easter I received a short, troubled letter from Frank 
 Sheehy Skeffington, in which, writing of another matter, 
 he interjected that the situation in Dublin was very tense 
 and that he feared a storm would break. 
 
 Little I dreamed, as I read his letter, how soon that 
 storm was to break, and that not its least consequence 
 would be to quench the life of the sincerest pacifist I have 
 ever met — who spent his whole life fighting every sort 
 and manner of authority for the right of the individual 
 conscience, the individual freedom of life and the indi- 
 vidual habit of peace — and who died amid a city at 
 battle organizing the service of peace, by the act of a 
 man in whom unbridled authority had let loose a criminal 
 lust for domination. 
 
 81
 
 T 
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 §i 
 
 ~^HE hour had at last come for which Tom Clarke 
 had so long waited, for the coming of which he had 
 so carefully prepared. Since 1907, when he had returned 
 to Ireland from America, he had worked but for one 
 end, and now the very conjunction he would have asked, 
 hardly dreaming that time would bring it to his hand, 
 had come to pass. Armed and drilled men were in 
 Ireland, and England was at war, all her forces thrown 
 into a struggle that would evidently charge her strength 
 to the utmost. So perfect was the conjunction, set against 
 the tradition of Fenian teaching, of which he was the 
 living witness, that it would be hardly true to say that he 
 willed the result. Truer, perhaps, to say that the con- 
 sequence followed simply and punctually in his mind, 
 and England had hardly declared war before he, and 
 those he had gathered about him, are found planning and 
 preparing for armed insurrection. 
 
 On his return from America he had undertaken the 
 task of restoring and reorganizing the Irish Republican 
 Brotherhood — the I.R.B., as the Brotherhood was known, 
 for short, or the Fenians, as Padraic Pearse delighted to 
 call them. An oath-bound, secret organization, its work 
 was done under cover. Those who were sworn into its 
 ranks knew only those who were immediately above them, 
 
 82
 
 EASTER WEEK I A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 from whom they received their orders, and those im- 
 mediately below, to whom those orders were transmitted. 
 As such it might have lent itself to powerful political 
 intrigue, but in Tom Clarke's hands and in his day of 
 power this was not possible, for he despised politics, and 
 he held the Brotherhood aloof, schooled to the thought 
 of an ultimate appeal to arms. 
 
 It was this thought to which he gave new life by the 
 service of an inflexible will and a complete disregard of 
 self. In suffering he had acquired the rare combination 
 of instant readiness and undefeatable patience. Suffer- 
 ing had taught him to think in long distances. There- 
 fore, finding the Brotherhood in the hands of men of 
 his own generation, accustomed rather to backward than 
 to forward glances, he had taken care to surround him- 
 self with young men, by whom the lamp of his tradition 
 might be trimmed, uplifted with new hope, and carried 
 forward in a braver spirit, himself sitting among them, 
 iron-grey, spectacled, and watchful. 
 
 §2 
 
 Among the first of these was Sean MacDermott. He 
 was then an organizer for Sinn Fein, in the days of its 
 early strength, and as such he was a close friend of 
 Arthur Griffith. About this time Arthur Griffith was 
 himself a member of the Brotherhood, but he fell out 
 with its methods, caused himself to be sworn out of the 
 organization, and always afterwards disagreed strongly 
 with secret societies. To the end, however, Sean Mac- 
 Dermott remained the most intimate friend of both men. 
 
 83
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 In him an insatiable fire burned, consuming all natural 
 desires in the faith by which he lived. There was hardly 
 a parish in Ireland but he knew it, and knew every man 
 and woman in it in whom he could place reliance when 
 work was needed to be done. Young as he was when 
 he was shot by a firing squad in 19 16, he had ruined 
 his health with overwork, and walked always with a 
 limp, as the result of a stroke he had received, but in 
 his steady eyes and delicate features a spirit shone that 
 looked beyond all ruin, giving him an intense beauty, 
 a beauty born of discipline and vision, clear and of 
 compelling charm, like a flame shining in a slight crystal- 
 like lanthorn of a body. 
 
 Some years later Tom Clarke found Padraic Pearse. 
 Rather, it was John Devoy who found him in America, 
 where he had gone to collect moneys for the school he 
 had established at St. Enda in Rathfarnham. Joining 
 the Brotherhood on his return to Ireland, he rose in time 
 to a position of pre-eminence. He was a man of great 
 gifts. His writings in Irish and in English prove him 
 to be an artist of no mean order, sensitive to beauty, a 
 grave, priest-like man with his own vision to utter and 
 his own craft to find for it expression. But he put his 
 gifts behind him; he shut eyes and ears (as far as a man 
 may with a life to live) lest beauty should ensnare him 
 from the sacrifice to which his life was by him dedicated. 
 Consciously, with a quiet seriousness that in any other 
 man might have been priggish, he prepared to cast away 
 his life in the faith that out of the ashes of sacrifice the 
 phoenix of a new life for Ireland might arise. 
 
 It is told that as a boy, reading Irish history, he had 
 
 84
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 declared that he would die for Ireland; and he was not 
 one with whom boyish declarations are lightly forgotten, 
 buried under the lumber of years or dusty with wayfaring. 
 Something of the simple, uncomplicated gravity of boy- 
 hood remained with him to the end. In this very year 
 he wrote one of the most beautiful of modern Irish poems, 
 of which the following is a translation, the grave, beautiful 
 music gone bare in the rendering: 
 
 Naked I saw thee, 
 
 beauty of beauty, 
 And I blinded my eyes 
 For fear I should fail. 
 
 1 heard thy music, 
 
 melody of melody, 
 And I closed my ears 
 For fear I should falter. 
 
 1 tasted thy mouth, 
 
 sweetness of sweetness, 
 And I hardened my heart 
 For fear of my slaying. 
 
 1 blinded my eyes 
 And I closed my ears, 
 I hardened my heart 
 
 And I smothered my desire. 
 
 I turned my back 
 On the vision I had shaped, 
 And to this road before me 
 I turned my face. 
 
 I have turned my face 
 To this road before me, 
 To the deed that I see 
 And the death I shall die. 
 
 85
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 It was in this mood Padraic Pearse prepared for insur- 
 rection, not in the hope of success, but in the conviction 
 of a necessity for sacrifice. Such moods are unconquerable, 
 and his slow-moving body, his silent manner and heavy, 
 obstinate mouth and chin, had something unconquerable 
 about them too. If it was Tom Clarke who brought 
 down the lamp of tradition, and held it firmly, without 
 any thought for himself, until others were ready to take 
 it from him; if it was Sean MacDermott who served the 
 organization of revolt with a fire that burned in him with 
 a consuming flame, it was Padraic Pearse who gave in- 
 surrection a philosophy that was also a religion. And 
 with him came others of smaller mould, Thomas Mac- 
 Donagh and Joseph Plunkett, who were in some sort 
 disciples of his, who had received from him his doctrine 
 that from the ashes of sacrifice would arise the new spirit 
 of a nation. 
 
 At the other end stood two men of a different quality. 
 One of these was Eamonn Ceannt, a dark, proud, aloof 
 man, of so extreme a sensitiveness that he had schooled 
 himself to wear for mask a cold and rigid manner. 
 Padraic Pearse's doctrine found small echo in him. He 
 went into insurrection looking for victory because the 
 thought of defeat chafed his intractable spirit. He spoke 
 with cold contempt of Padraic Pearse's slow and moving 
 eloquence and appeal to sentiment as " green-flaggery." 
 He would have none of it. It revolted his pride. The 
 straight, nervous blow was, for him, its own jurisdiction, 
 needing no other; and if defeat came, such as warriors 
 could not prevent, it would at least not touch to tarnish 
 his pride. 
 
 86
 
 EASTER WEEK I A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 The other was James Connolly. In many ways he was 
 the master-intellect of them all — among the master- 
 intellects of his people — but the splendid, massive 
 machinery of his mind often produced results that were 
 bewilderingly disproportionate to the intricate process by 
 which they had been created. Of middle height, sturdy 
 of frame and broad of brow, he suggested, and his 
 Northern accent conveyed, the thought of a realist who 
 lived to slay illusions. On the platform there were few 
 more trenchant speakers than he. He would sit, a life- 
 less heap, the picture of gloom, till it came to his time 
 to speak, when with three strides he would throw off his 
 gloom like a cloak, and pour out eloquence like molten 
 metal that scorched and burned all before it. In con- 
 versation he was quick to bring argument to the test of 
 practical fact, and he ranged through Irish history for the 
 advance of such tests, showing a reading as deep as 
 voluminous, including books and documents difficult to 
 obtain. Even for a student of leisure the range of his 
 reading would have been unexpected — for one who was, 
 as he was, self-taught it was extraordinary, and in the cir- 
 cumstances of his case it was also peculiar, for it was 
 grouped about the economic and social doctrine on which 
 his national faith was based. 
 
 Yet he, the mocker of national illusions, nursed 
 illusions that none of the others did. Already, before 
 the European War, he had, on at least one other occasion, 
 advocated armed insurrection in the hope of a capitalist 
 downfall, and now it was he who clamoured for 
 immediate action, impatient at the delays of preparation. 
 It was he who was mainly responsible during Easter 
 
 87
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Week for the mistaken strategy of occupying public build- 
 ings that were a target for artillery. He believed that 
 the capitalist, class of one country would never destroy 
 the buildings that were the pride of the capitalist class 
 of another. He worked with the others, but from a differ- 
 ent angle, relying on his own separate organization, the 
 Citizens' Army, a purely Labour force created from the 
 ranks of the Irish Transport and General Workers' Union. 
 Others there were, too, who were to come into promin- 
 ence later, but who at that time held positions of lesser 
 importance. There was Eamon de Valera, Professor of 
 Mathematics at Maynooth. During 1915 he was pro- 
 moted Adjutant of the Dublin Brigade of the Irish 
 Volunteers. His immediate superior was Thomas Mac- 
 Donagh, who walked with him of a night, after brigade 
 duties were finished, thrilling him while he announced 
 Pearse's evangel of a national awakening as the conse- 
 quence of human sacrifice. There was Cathal Brugha, 
 Eamonn Ceannt's second in command in the fourth 
 battalion, grim, tense, uncommunicative, and utterly 
 fearless. There was Richard Mulcahy in the second 
 battalion. And there was William T. Cosgrave, also of 
 the fourth battalion, whose pale, perpetually surprised and 
 abashed appearance, innocent, large, light-blue eyes and 
 flock of flaxen hair, and generally mild and innocent 
 demeanour, belied his innate Dublin pugnacity. 
 
 §3 
 
 Such were some of the more conspicuous personalities 
 (conspicuous then or thereafter) by whom insurrection 
 
 88
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 was to be undertaken. But it was by the first three of 
 these — Tom Clarke, Sean MacDermott, and Padraic 
 Pearse — that the decision was made and the plans laid. 
 By them, the year before, the Volunteer Movement had 
 been started. By them it had been decided to invite 
 Eoin MacNeill to assume the presidency of the new 
 movement. By them it had been decided to eject John 
 Redmond's nominees on the Provisional Committee when 
 the idea of insurrection was clearly formed in their minds. 
 By them, incidentally, local commanders with minds of 
 their own (such as one who lived in Achill) were removed, 
 as a necessary step to unity of conception and purpose. 
 And by them long and careful preparations were now 
 begun with a view to a blow being struck at the most 
 suitable moment. 
 
 All these measures were taken by the Supreme Council 
 of the I.R.B., of which they were the chief leaders. 
 Within a few days of the declaration of war Dr. Patrick 
 McCartan was sent to America, to get into touch there 
 with the leaders of the affiliated society, the Clan na Gael. 
 Even before his going, however, a message had been sent 
 to America informing the leaders there of the intention 
 to take advantage of the war for an armed rebellion, 
 and as a consequence of this message negotiations had 
 been opened with Count Bernstorff, the German 
 Ambassador there, for the provision of arms and military 
 help but not money. On his arrival Dr. McCartan was 
 informed of these negotiations, and furnished with money, 
 provided by the Clan na Gael, to help the organization 
 in Ireland. 
 
 There he met Sir Roger Casement, in whose hands a 
 
 8 9
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 critical part of the negotiations was to be carried. Long 
 before the war Sir Roger Casement had come to the con- 
 viction that the only hope of Irish Freedom — either for 
 its achievement or for its maintenance when achieved — 
 was in an American-Irish-German alliance. He had 
 written a pamphlet preaching such an alliance. Only by 
 such an alliance, he held, could the control of the 
 Atlantic, the most important of the seas for the future 
 of history, be wrested from Great Britain. Only by the 
 wresting of that control could Ireland be assured of 
 national independence, or the other two nations be 
 assured of freedom for their commerce. The alliance, 
 therefore, he maintained, was indicated by nature and 
 necessity, and he conceived it as his task to bring it to 
 pass. 
 
 If other men had conceived such a project, however 
 strongly it was knit by logic, it would have lain in their 
 minds rather as a matter of intellectual interest than of 
 practical politics. The more complete the logic, indeed, 
 the more remote would it have been and the more idle. 
 That, however, was not the texture of Sir Roger Case- 
 ment's mind. The more impossible the task the greater 
 the fascination it held for him. It was not easy to stir 
 him to simple, ordinary, workaday tasks. To them he 
 would listen with but the surface of his mind, erect and 
 dignified and remote, with not a sign of interest on his 
 pale, handsome face, and his eyes looking out over some 
 other world of high romantic adventure. Only the diffi- 
 cult and daring could truly enkindle his imagination, and 
 the more impossible a task seemed the more certain was 
 it of stirring his whole interest. 
 
 90
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 He had proved that he could make possible the im- 
 possible, ride single-handed with success against vast 
 powers, and unite romance and practice. When he 
 had dared into the Congo, a solitary figure, with 
 only his will, compassion, and sense of adventure to 
 sustain him, he had opposed to him the entire Belgian 
 administration of that territory; he had before him a vast, 
 fever-stricken, almost uncharted land, in the " heart of 
 darkness," with monsters of cruelty like dragons to be 
 slain in the midst of that darkness; and he had behind 
 him the knowledge that the British Government, whose 
 servant he was, must disown him in the event of failure. 
 Yet he succeeded, and became one of the chief, and 
 certainly one of the most romantic, figures of the world 
 of the time. It is doubtful if any other man could have 
 succeeded. It is certain that no other man would have 
 attempted the task. 
 
 It was the same on the Putamayo, to which his atten- 
 tion next turned. Here the difficulties were even more 
 formidable, the territory even more distant, dark, and 
 unknown. One who knew the territory (whose interest, 
 as it happened, had been greatly injured by Sir Roger 
 Casement's exposure of the cruelties done there) orrce 
 said to me that he did not believe that the world had 
 any more courageous act to show than Sir Roger Case- 
 ment's adventure there. Not only, he said, was Nature 
 against him, by night and day, to destroy him among 
 the living, but he had also the knowledge that any morsel 
 of food he put into his mouth might be poisoned, and 
 would be poisoned if corruption and skill could achieve 
 it; for he was known as the man who had exposed the 
 
 91
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 evils done in the Congo territory — a man who was hated 
 because he was feared, who, if he was not himself un- 
 done, would undo the harvest of profit that flourished 
 by cruelty. Yet here, too, he had succeeded. He had, 
 finally, ruined his health, but he had won; he had made 
 possible the impossible, and he had received the meed 
 of praise among men that only indisputable success is 
 judged worthy to receive. 
 
 He was, therefore, no mean protagonist, however 
 seemingly fantastical the project that kindled his imagina- 
 tion and aroused his interest. Truly, an American-Irish- 
 German alliance now seems fantastical indeed, though it 
 is right to remember that time and all that has happened 
 since has made it to seem more fantastical now that it 
 seemed early in 1914. Yet the task in prospect was not 
 more impossible than the hope of slaying the dragons of 
 the Congo and Para, and the mere act of attempting it 
 would of itself spell the beginning of success, for it 
 would publish the idea in association with the esteem 
 attached to his name. 
 
 Sometime early in 1913 he had formed the idea, and 
 no one could speak with him about it without realizing 
 how deeply it had captured his imagination. Everything 
 in him answered to its fascination. Romance beckoned 
 to him. Was not he an Irishman, whose people had for 
 centuries fought for Freedom in vain? A high and diffi- 
 cult task beckoned to him. What more difficult could 
 engage all his daring? But he was put out of the im- 
 mediate road towards this goal, first by the organization 
 of the Volunteers, that took him into all parts of Ireland, 
 and then by the organization of the gun-running. It was 
 
 92
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 not, therefore, till June of 1914 that he had left for 
 America to begin the foundations of his work. 
 
 There the outbreak of the World War found him. 
 Hard upon the heels of that outbreak came news from 
 Ireland that it was hoped to take occasion of that war 
 for an armed insurrection. Instantly a new practical 
 meaning was given to his original conception, and he at 
 once planned to leave for Germany, to begin his work 
 now for that end. 
 
 u 
 
 There was, therefore, a certain distance (not fully 
 apparent to either of them at that time) between his 
 ideas and the ideas of the leaders of the I.R.B. in Ireland 
 and the Clan na Gael in America. They were planning 
 simply for an insurrection in Ireland; his thoughts em- 
 braced a wider circle, of which Ireland was the centre. 
 Moreover, their habits of work were different. They 
 worked in and through the organizations of which they 
 were the leaders. He brooded apart by himself, and 
 struck out his own line of labour, consulting with men 
 from whom they thought it well to withhold their 
 secrets. It was perhaps inevitable that they and he 
 should before long lose that intimate touch and con- 
 sultation with one another, especially while he was in 
 Germany, where private news could not be passed except 
 at great risk, without which perfect understanding could 
 not be reached. 
 
 Within three weeks of the outbreak of war, on the 
 25th of August, a letter was sent from the leaders of 
 the Clan na Gael to the Kaiser urging him to make the 
 
 93
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Freedom of Ireland one of Germany's war aims. This 
 letter was signed by all the members of the executive 
 of the Clan as well as by others, but it was written by 
 Sir Roger Casement. That fad could, indeed, be easily 
 traced by the thread of argument. " The British claim," 
 the letter said, "to control the seas of the world refts 
 chiefly on an unnamed fador. That fador is Ireland. . . . 
 We are profoundly convinced that so long as Great Britain 
 is allowed to control, exploit, and misappropriate Ireland 
 and all Irish resources — whether of men, material, wealth, 
 or strategic position — she will dominate the seas. Thus 
 the Freedom of Ireland becomes of paramount — nay, of 
 vital — importance to the larger question of the seas." In 
 phrases such as these the very accent of his voice may be 
 heard; but it was not of such thoughts that the minds of 
 the men in Ireland were full while they struggled to 
 perfed the organization of insurredion, and through the 
 Clan na Gael and the German-American Embassy com- 
 municated their needs by wireless to Berlin. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, on the 15th of Odober, Sir Roger 
 Casement, disguised and with a false passport, left 
 America by way of Norway for Germany. There he 
 at once got into touch with the German Foreign Office, 
 but it was not long before he discovered that the thoughts 
 of Germany ran not to Ireland in the Atlantic. They 
 were too occupied with affairs in Europe, having been 
 long trained to busy themselves only with the chancel- 
 leries encircled there. Nothing can better display the 
 disillusionment and despair that settled on him, even 
 during the early months after his arrival, than his com- 
 ments in his own diaries. 
 
 94
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 11 1 thought of Ireland," he wrote on the 2nd of 
 November, immediately on his arrival, " the land I 
 should almost fatally never see again. Only a miracle 
 of victory could ever bring me to her shores. That I did 
 not expect — cannot, in truth, hope for. But, victory or 
 defeat, it is all for Ireland. And she cannot suffer from 
 what I do. I may, I must suffer — and even those near 
 and dear to me — but my country can only gain from my 
 treason. Whatever comes that must be so. If I win all 
 it is national resurrection — a free Ireland, a world-nation 
 after centuries of slavery, a people lost in the Middle 
 Ages refound and returned to Europe. If I fail, if 
 Germany be defeated, still the blow struck to-day for 
 Ireland must change the course of British policy towards 
 that country. Things will never be again quite the same. 
 The ' Irish Question ' will have been lifted from the mire 
 and mud and petty, false strife of British domestic politics 
 into an international atmosphere. That, at least, I shall 
 have achieved." 
 
 A few weeks later, on the 12th of Decembf, he 
 wrote: 'In my heart I am very sorry I came! I do 
 not think the German Government has any soul for great 
 enterprises; it lacks the Divine spark of imagination that 
 has ennobled British piracy. The seas may be freed by 
 these people, but I doubt it. They will do it in their 
 sleep — and without intending to achieve anything so 
 great." On the 1st of February he retails a series of events 
 that, he writes, " made me feel that I had made an awful 
 fool of myself in ever believing that this Government 
 would help Ireland. I never recovered faith in them." 
 And he adds a forlorn and biting irony : " Since that 
 
 95
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 affair many other things have passed that recalled the 
 incident. I have already told you of Count Oberndorff 
 at Christiania assuring me that BernsdorfT's letter of 
 introduction was in a cipher ' they did not understand! ' 
 This was written on the very day that he wrote his 
 public letter to Sir Edward Grey returning the Order and 
 medal, title and honour, he had received in the service of 
 the British Government, and saying : " I came to Europe ' 
 from the United States last October in order to make sure 
 that, whatever might be the course of this war, my own 
 country, Ireland, should suffer from it the minimum of 
 harm." But it is evident that by that time he had already 
 lost faith in the enterprise in the hope of which he had 
 set forth. 
 
 §5 
 
 His, however, was not the enterprise that lit the minds 
 of the men in Dublin — an enterprise that was so deeply 
 to change the psychology of a nation — though the two, 
 having gone asunder, were to run together so tragically 
 in the end. From whatever different angles of tempera- 
 ment these men regarded their task, they looked, not to 
 the seas of the world, not even, in any great measure, to 
 European wars and policies, but to an armed insurrection 
 in Ireland and the immediate and ultimate fruits to be 
 gathered as a result of that insurrection. Tom Clarke 
 might think of a return of the Fenian tradition, Sean 
 MacDermott of a work begun that others should con- 
 tinue, Padraic Pearse of a reborn nation rising like a 
 phoenix from the ashes of sacrifice, Eamonn Ceannt of a 
 blow long overdue and soon to be struck, and James 
 
 9 6
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 Connolly of a revolt of the working people to change 
 the whole course of social and economic history in 
 Ireland, but all their thoughts began with and centred 
 upon the actual revolt and its organization; and so com- 
 pletely were they centred upon that event that (whether 
 they knew it or not) their hearts were utterly committed 
 to it, whatever might happen elsewhere — unlike Case- 
 ment, who, with his mind disengaged by bitter disillu- 
 sionment, was free to think of retraction and withdrawal. 
 They and he were widely divided, and they recognized 
 this, while he did not. 
 
 All in Ireland, however, were not so committed — only 
 a little isolated circle, responsible to none but their own 
 resolution, knowing that the great mass of the people 
 served gods whom they hated, working their will by a 
 secret society, and determined to keep their plans close 
 even from their own associates until they were ready for 
 action. In Ireland, too, therefore, there was division. 
 
 There was, in fact, division within division. The 
 little isolated circle was much smaller and much more 
 remote than were the Volunteers themselves. The 
 President, and later the Chief of Staff, of the Irish 
 Volunteers was Professor Eoin MacNeill. He it was 
 whom the country saw at the head of the movement, 
 and, indeed, the Volunteers were often called after his 
 name. By those who planned insurrection this was 
 welcomed, for it masked the fact that the real control 
 and decision lay elsewhere, not to be revealed until the 
 moment had come for the candour of the first rifle-shot. 
 Eoin MacNeill might preside at meetings of the Volun- 
 teer Executive Committee, but knowledge of what was 
 
 97 h
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 being planned was withheld from him. He was left to 
 figure before public attention, while the real work was 
 done elsewhere. 
 
 This was done deliberately, because it was judged 
 essential that the closes!: secrecy should be maintained 
 until it was too late for withdrawal. Secrecy was, 
 indeed, more closely tightened. The Supreme Council 
 of the I.R.B. was itself a body the identity of which not 
 many knew; but even that body was abolished. It was 
 displaced by an inner Military Council, consisting of 
 Tom Clarke, Sean MacDermott, Padraic Pearse, and 
 Joseph Plunkett. Not many of the Volunteer Executive 
 knew of the existence of this Military Council, however 
 they might guess at its existence. But it was by this 
 body, working through the secret organization of the 
 I.R.B. , that the Volunteers were controlled, and were 
 presented at last with the fact of insurrection. Roger 
 Casement in Germany and Eoin MacNeill in Ireland 
 were both kept from knowledge; and thus it was that 
 they joined together on the eve of action in a desperate 
 effort to stop insurrection at the last moment. 
 
 Yet all worked together at the task of organizing the 
 Irish Volunteers, and this task was formidable enough. 
 The bulk of the original Volunteers had gone with John 
 Redmond into the National Volunteers, and only a few 
 thousand through the country, in scattered handfuls, 
 remained with the Irish Volunteers. These scattered 
 handfuls became known generally, and increasingly as 
 the months passed, as the Sinn Fein Volunteers. It was 
 during 19 15, in fact, that the public for the first time 
 definitely associated Sinn Fein and the Irish Volunteers 
 
 98
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 as indistinguishable parts of one movement — an associa- 
 tion that was to prove of the greatest moment in the 
 future, although the two movements were not only, then 
 and thereafter, separate, but actually in many respects 
 opposed to one another. Both Tom Clarke and Padraic 
 Pearse, for example, strongly repudiated identity with 
 Sinn Fein, disagreed with its purely civil policy, and pre- 
 ferred to be known as Fenian and Republican. But it 
 was inevitable diat the Irish people should consider both 
 sections of the protesting minority as parts of a single 
 whole, for the two played into one another's hands, and 
 between them they faced the heavy task of breaking the 
 people away from the lead that John Redmond and the 
 Parliamentary leaders had so successfully given. 
 
 During these days " Sinn Fein ' : was a title of 
 opprobrium. It was the title of a small minority, con- 
 sidered to be more noisy than numerous, expostulant yet 
 powerless. Sinn Fein speakers argued the case for Irish 
 neutrality in the war, and Irish Volunteers, especially in 
 Dublin, paraded and conducted military manoeuvres in 
 the most daring fashion; but the mass of the people 
 followed the lead of John Redmond, and it is a simple 
 fact that at this time Irish recruits went to the war in 
 Europe in numbers, proportionately to the population 
 they represented, not less heavy than those of England. 
 
 As the months passed this changed. Recruiting 
 flagged. John Redmond's influence waned, and criticism 
 gathered about his name. News came of heavy Irish 
 casualty lists, as a consequence, it was said, of the front 
 positions into which Irish regiments were always placed. 
 A coalition British Government was formed, in which 
 
 99
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Sir Edward Carson held high position, and the people 
 wondered in suspicion as to the meaning of these things. 
 But the people did not join Sinn Fein; they did not cease 
 to use the title as a term of scorn; they did not help in 
 any substantial measure to augment the ranks of the Irish 
 Volunteers. The Military Council might plan an armed 
 insurrection, it might send messengers to America, there 
 to arrange the nature and condition of German assistance, 
 but the task before it, as it worked in secret, seemed like 
 that to which Sisyphus was committed in the fable, 
 destined ever to remain at beginnings. 
 
 §6 
 
 During this summer of 1915 two events occurred that 
 were to change the entire future. The effect of the 
 first was almost immediate. The effect of the second was 
 not to be realized for some time, and was then completely 
 from within to change the social and political history of 
 Ireland. 
 
 In June Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa died in America. 
 He had been one of the leaders of the Fenians of '67 — 
 he dated, indeed, from the ill-fated Phoenix Conspiracy 
 of '58, when he had flung aside his historical studies to 
 organize the Republican Brotherhood. He was thus of the 
 Fenian generation before Tom Clarke, and it was expected 
 that he should be buried in the Fenian plot at Glasnevin 
 Cemetery. 
 
 Now the people hated Fenians and rebels of their own 
 hour, no doubt as a reflex of the affectionate reverence in 
 which they held the memory of the Fenians and rebels 
 
 100
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 of history. But the organizers of insurrection were quick 
 to draw down about their own heads the halo that is 
 the safe prerogative of history, and they did so knowing 
 full well that no one would more gladly have been willing 
 to bestow that halo than the dead chief. Communications 
 were therefore at once opened with America for a funeral 
 that would outdo all records, beginning in America and 
 rising in crescendo to a climax at Glasnevin of so immense 
 a kind as to ensure that the attention of all Ireland would 
 centre about the Fenian plot. And at that moment, while 
 a salvo of musketry (in an Ireland where arms were for- 
 bidden) was fired over the grave, Padraic Pearse would in 
 his slow and simple eloquence utter the Fenian creed and 
 praise the Fenian deed. 
 
 So it befell, not merely as it was planned, but in a 
 manner and on a scale that outdid expectation. The 
 funeral was, in fact, the first of a series of mighty funerals 
 that were, during the next six years, to draw deputations 
 from every parish of Ireland at critical moments of history. 
 The British military and the police were withdrawn from 
 the streets of Dublin, and the Volunteers took complete 
 control of the city. It was they who issued regulations 
 for traffic, they who appointed pickets to order the huge 
 multitude, they who arranged for special trains from 
 every part of Ireland, they who caused these trains to be 
 met from early that Sunday morning, so that the people 
 who arrived from the country might know exactly where 
 to go and what to do. While the coffin lay in state, 
 first at the City Hall and then at the Pro-Cathedral, they 
 formed the guard of honour. And everywhere the green 
 uniform was to be seen, while the khaki was withdrawn, 
 
 101
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 the hand of the dead man being upheld over the city 
 for a protection that the laws of the land could not 
 disregard. 
 
 It was a remarkable transfiguration. Not less remark- 
 able was the fact that the Parliamentary leaders had no 
 part in these celebrations. They were helpless. History 
 had been invoked against them, and they could do 
 nothing. How could they, while urging Irishmen to 
 enlist in the British Army, celebrate the passing of one 
 whose place in history had been won because he had 
 fought against that army? Many of them desired to do 
 so, but the Volunteers were determined that they should 
 not, and they dared not publicly contest that decision. 
 Their own followers formed the overwhelming majority 
 of those who thronged into Dublin during these days. 
 Indeed, their own political organizations bore banners 
 in the funeral procession. But they were compelled to 
 stand aside, while their followers were marshalled, led, 
 and, over an open grave, addressed by men who com- 
 manded no political following at all, and who, the week 
 before, had been spoken of lightly throughout the country 
 as " the Sinn Feiners." 
 
 For those who can see beyond the events that confront 
 them to the historical life of which these events are but a 
 stirring and tumultuous phantasm, that Sunday of June in 
 Dublin staged a strange spectacle. So evidently thought 
 the companion who walked beside me in the funeral pro- 
 cession. He was a man of middle age, who had come 
 from Co. Mayo. " The tide is turning — the tide is turn- 
 ing at last," he whispered to me excitedly. " The people 
 are answering to the old call." The old call, the ancient 
 
 102
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 habit ! New life responding to the con jury of the past. 
 New forces of unrest for the future being created un- 
 consciously while a people followed a dead man to his 
 last rest. It was certainly all that. 
 
 It was to this inevitable theme that Padraic Pearse 
 addressed himself in his funeral oration. I stood opposite 
 him across the grave while in his slow passion and de- 
 liberate eloquence he read his speech, and I can see him 
 yet as he flung back his head, and can hear him yet 
 as his voice rose to the close. " The defenders of this 
 realm have worked well in secret and in the open. They 
 think that they have pacified Ireland. They think that 
 they have purchased half of us and intimidated the other 
 half. They think they have foreseen everything, think 
 that they have provided against everything; but the fools, 
 the fools, the fools ! They have left us our Fenian dead, 
 and while Ireland holds these graves Ireland unfree shall 
 never be at peace." 
 
 After all was over I saw him, with his curious, heavy 
 gait, walking home alone, unheeded and unheeding, in 
 plain simple Volunteer uniform, without a single decora- 
 tion of rank. Soon after a motor passed me, holding Tom 
 MacDonagh, the Commandant-General for the day, sur- 
 rounded with staff officers, smart and resplendent with 
 yellow tabs. I little dreamed that I should never see 
 them again. 
 
 §7 
 The other event followed some weeks afterwards, at 
 the end of that summer. It is notorious how, for half a 
 century, since the calamity of the Great Starvation of 
 
 103
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 '47 to '49, the best blood of the country has been drained 
 out in a constant stream of emigration. After the Land 
 Acts the flow of that stream diminished with each decade. 
 Security of tenure and economic hope for the future 
 enabled a great and greater part of the population brought 
 forth on the shores of Ireland to continue their life within 
 those shores. No longer was it judged necessary for every 
 son and daughter other than the eldest to leave Ireland 
 to find a place for life in America. But still, in most 
 homes, a part of the family emigrated. In great measure 
 this was due to economic necessity, but it was due also 
 to the circumstance that counterparts of communities in 
 Ireland had been created in America, and these counter- 
 parts continued to draw upon their original sources, 
 because that habit of life had been instituted. 
 
 Every family in Achill, for example, had, and has, 
 at least as many members in Cleveland, Ohio, as 
 in Achill. Every family in Aran had, and has, its 
 larger end in Chicago. The thought of Cleveland or 
 Chicago to an Achill or Aran lass or lad was, not the 
 thought of a vast distance to travel, but the thought of 
 the next parish, where there was a home ready, relatives 
 and friends waiting to receive them into neighbourly com- 
 munity, whereas the thought of Dublin was the thought 
 of a lonely, homeless city of adventure. And this, too, 
 assisted emigration, till emigration had become a constant 
 part of the nation's social habit. 
 
 This is important to note. It cannot be neglected in a 
 right understanding of the history of these years. If any- 
 thing were violently to stop this stream, the entire social 
 and economic life of the nation would be affected. 
 
 104
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 Families would become enlarged, and would lose their 
 equilibrium and central authority. The stream of youth 
 that had gone to America would scatter like waste waters 
 over the land. There would be no place of life for all 
 those who stayed in Ireland. Unemployment would be 
 suddenly and violently increased. More serious still, the 
 habit of employment and the tuition of industry would 
 be lost for a great part of a nation's life during the 
 formative years of its youth. 
 
 This it was that now happened. Towards the end 
 of this summer a rumour flew that the British Govern- 
 ment meditated on the necessity for conscription. That 
 rumour was not welcomed with any enthusiasm in 
 England itself, where the war was felt in the blood to be 
 waged in defence of national freedom. In Ireland, where 
 history and habit had stopped the nurture of any such 
 thought, it was received with dismay. Conscription, 
 conceived of in England as the last necessity of duty, was 
 in Ireland regarded as impressment and servitude. A 
 recruit who joined at the wish of his nation's leaders was 
 one thing, a conscript quite another. One went to the 
 wars to gain his nation's political freedom as the bargain- 
 price of his going (and that was the note sounded from 
 nearly every recruiting platform), whereas the other was 
 marched off by an alien press-gang, without a voice to 
 exercise in the matter. 
 
 The consequence of the rumour was prompt. Family 
 consultations were held (I remember many of them in 
 Achill) as to which of the sons it was necessary to retain, 
 and preparations were made for the passage of the others 
 to their friends and relatives in America. A movement 
 
 105
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 began towards Dublin and Liverpool ; but hardly had that 
 movement begun than it was abruptly slopped — and 
 slopped, as the event proved, for many years, with results 
 that no one then could foresee. 
 
 The cause of this was that an outcry arose in the British 
 Press. Young Irishmen, it was announced, were flying 
 in cowardice, flying before the common danger, flying 
 from the common duty. Idle, in those heated hours, to 
 point out that neither the danger nor the duty were re- 
 garded as common while Ireland had not the freedom to 
 defend that she had struggled so long and so vainly to 
 obtain. Those who read the British Press were moved 
 to the ready anger that is part of the war psychology 
 of nations, and crowds moved towards the quays at 
 Liverpool to await intending emigrants. 
 
 The scenes that were enacted on those quays were not 
 pleasant. National hatreds are not pleasant to contem- 
 plate. Irish country lads were met by angry demon- 
 strations they did not, and could not, understand. 
 Hostility, and even violence, attempted to stop them going 
 abroad, and finally the crews of the emigrant ships, 
 catching the spirit from the shore, refused to carry them. 
 There was nothing for them to do but to return home, 
 and thus the old outlet was stopped and the old habit 
 broken. Ireland, without a developed industrial life to 
 sustain her population, had henceforth to maintain that 
 population on her land. 
 
 §8 
 
 It was in such an Ireland that the tuition of arms was 
 now to be given. For the first time for over half a 
 
 1 06
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 century Ireland was compelled to retain the full comple- 
 ment of her youth, without work to give them, without 
 means for acquiring the training of industry. More- 
 over, as the news in the Irish Press of the scenes at 
 Liverpool was read in every town and village, recruit- 
 ing meetings that had weakened throughout the summer 
 went finally barren of results. Ordinarily these things 
 must, needs have been fruitful of unsettlement in coming 
 years. But they occurred at a moment when the standard 
 of revolt was being prepared to be unfurled and the 
 example of armed insurrection to be taught. 
 
 Throughout this year preparations had been carefully 
 continued in and out of Ireland. Early in the year an 
 emissary had been sent to America by the Military 
 Council, and he had there met the military staff attached 
 to the German Embassy, and had discussed the question 
 of military assistance. This assistance was to take the 
 form of arms, to be landed in Ireland immediately prior 
 to revolt, and an offensive in Europe to chime with it. 
 Later a member of the Council, Joseph Plunkett, found 
 his way to Germany by way of Switzerland, and there 
 arranged for the shipment of arms. In the meantime, 
 in Ireland arms were being secretly gathered together, and 
 munitions manufactured with such skill as was available. 
 Manoeuvres were being conducted with greater and 
 greater daring, and the people and the authorities trained 
 to the habit of seeing Volunteers in arms marching 
 through the streets and practising the movements of war- 
 fare on hill-sides in their green uniforms. The 
 Redmondite Volunteers, not to be outdone, did the same, 
 though without arms, and as it was impossible for the 
 
 107
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 authorities to strike at them, and equally difficult to dis- 
 criminate without weakening John Redmond's authority, 
 the Irish Volunteers went free and became bolder and 
 bolder with success. 
 
 In January of 1916, accordingly, it was decided that 
 the moment had come to strike. The authorities were 
 becoming alarmed, and immunity could not much longer 
 be expected. Easter Sunday was therefore chosen as the 
 day, and a lady was sent to America to acquaint the folk 
 there, in order that they in their turn might, through the 
 German Embassy, communicate with Germany so as to 
 put in motion the plans that had been made. She re- 
 turned with the message that the news had been sent by 
 wireless to Germany. 
 
 Messengers and messages in code passed constandy 
 between the Military Council and the leaders in America 
 during these early months of the year, and the leaders in 
 America were in continuous touch with the German 
 Military Attache, Herr Pape. In Ireland the Volunteers 
 were steadily keyed up to action, the orders sometimes 
 going through the Volunteer Executive and sometimes 
 directly to units whose commanders were in independent 
 touch with the Military Council. Most extraordinary 
 manoeuvres were undertaken, foolhardy to the point of 
 madness, yet (even though this were not intended the 
 effect was) skilful in psychological attunement. 
 
 In the early hours of one morning, for example, a 
 mock attack on the Post Office was made by a consider- 
 able body of men, rapidly mobilized, in full equipment. 
 The men met in the streets surrounding the Post Office, 
 deployed, skirmished, were reassembled, and then dis- 
 
 108
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 appeared. On another occasion the Citizen Army at 
 night surrounded Dublin Castle, skirmished in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and then marched off with full honours. The 
 minds of the authorities in Dublin Castle as a conse- 
 quence of these manoeuvres may be imagined as one of 
 bewilderment, uneasily derisive, tempered alike by scorn 
 and apprehension. The madness of attack seemed too 
 strange to be credited, yet a close and careful watch was 
 kept. 
 
 On St. Patrick's Day, a month before the intended 
 stroke, a full-dress Review was held in College Green. 
 This was meant as the first of a series of deliberate in- 
 vocations of history; for it called back to another Volun- 
 teer Review in College Green in 1783, which led to the 
 legislative independence of the Irish Parliament of that 
 year. Eoin MacNeill (unsuspecting to what this was the 
 prelude) took the salute as Chief of Staff, while all the 
 Dublin battalions marched past him. The same day 
 meetings were held in all the principal towns of the 
 country. I had been invited to speak at Westport, and 
 to that meeting came O'Rahilly, a bonny, handsome 
 figure in his staff uniform. It was to be the last time I 
 should see him and speak with him — whom I had 
 been compelled to treat so summarily in our adventure 
 two years before. 
 
 So the day of insurrection approached, the Volunteers 
 growing bolder and bolder with that approach, while 
 Dublin Castle held its hand half raised to strike, yet was 
 reluctant to precipitate trouble. " Tralee Bay " had been 
 passed over the waters as the spot at which the German 
 arms were to be landed; and the wish had been expressed 
 
 109
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 that that landing should be at the same moment as the 
 Rising in Dublin, in order that Dublin Castle should not 
 hear of it in time to take precautions in the city. The 
 arms so landed were to be passed to Cork and Limerick, 
 and to Tipperary and the midlands, which were then to 
 rise, equipped and ready. 
 
 The plans were carefully made. All the chief lines 
 to be held converged on Dublin, and were intended to 
 divide the country into sections, to keep the troops in the 
 country fully occupied and prevent their freedom of 
 movement. One line was to extend from Carrickmacross 
 to Carrick-on-Shannon, and the Volunteers in Belfast 
 were to come out from that city to Tyrone, thus to put 
 a ring around the garrison at Enniskillen. Another line 
 was to stretch across the Tipperary mountains in a north- 
 easterly direction towards the Curragh. From Limerick 
 another line was to extend along the Shannon to Carrick- 
 on-Shannon, and along this line the arms landed at 
 Tralee were to be passed to the north and the west. 
 
 Thus it was expected that the entire country would be 
 held at least long enough (while a strong German 
 offensive in Europe made it impossible for troops to be 
 despatched from England to Ireland) to compel a setde- 
 ment on terms. The plan was ambitious, and it was not 
 without military skill. All depended, however, on 
 German good faith, first as to the landing of arms, and 
 then as to concerted action on the war-front in Europe. 
 Expectation built, not on German altruism (there was in 
 Ireland too deep-seated a cynicism as to all international 
 altruisms), but on German military strategy, in the pre- 
 science and skill of which unquestioned trust was put. 
 
 no
 
 EASTER WEEK I A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 But there was one man in whom that faith and trust 
 had been completely shattered, as the result of bitter 
 experience. 
 
 That one man was Roger Casement. He had learned 
 that the German military authorities scoffed at Irish 
 pretensions, and he had learned also that the German 
 civil authorities were resolved to take no step that would 
 make it too difficult for them to settle on satisfactory 
 terms with Great Britain. It was he who now took 
 action on his own, and by that action, fitting as it did 
 widi disaster elsewhere, brought all these careful plans 
 to naught. 
 
 in
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 {continued) 
 
 §i 
 
 FOR eighteen months Roger Casement had been in 
 Germany, and for twelve months of that time his 
 faith in the purpose of his visit had lain in utter ruins. 
 In June, 1915, he had met Joseph Plunkett at Berne, in 
 Switzerland, and he knew (though how fully and how 
 completely is not known) that the men in Ireland were 
 planning for insurrection. In the same year, as Irish 
 Representative in Germany, he negotiated a Treaty 
 between Germany and Ireland, in which Germany 
 undertook, in the event of victory, to recognize the 
 Independence of Ireland. But this document was kept 
 secret till the eve of Easter Week, when it was published 
 in Germany by Liebknecht, though a summary of it had 
 been published some time before this by the London 
 Times. Since then he had been engaged, with Lieutenant 
 Monteith, who had been sent from Ireland as the military 
 man to take immediate charge of the work, in enrolling 
 the ill-fated Irish Brigade from Irish prisoners taken 
 during the war. Having caused them to be enrolled, he 
 had found a great part of his time and ingenuity occupied 
 in guarding the brigade from being used for purely 
 German purposes. 
 
 112
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 It was not till March, 1916, that he learned that a 
 rising in Ireland had definitely been planned for the 
 following month. The information came to him, not 
 directly either from America or from the German 
 military authorities, but from Lieutenant Monteith, who, 
 as the officer directly in charge of the Irish Brigade, had 
 been informed diat it was proposed to send the Brigade 
 to Ireland to take part in the Rising. He himself was 
 away from Berlin when Lieutenant Monteith wrote to 
 him, asking him to come to the city, in order to be at 
 hand to give counsel. In Berlin he discovered that 
 the plan, long projected, was built on promises of 
 German assistance, and this stirred in him the 
 greatest apprehension, for his faith in such promises had 
 been shattered. " My difficulty," he wrote in die new 
 diary he opened to leave as his testament, " is that I don't 
 trust these people in anything they promise. They lie 
 always. They may or may not keep faith to-day; but I 
 have no reason to believe that in anything they do they 
 ever think of us, or of others, but only of themselves." 
 His mind, therefore, at once turned to the thought of 
 how he could himself get to Ireland, in the hope to 
 prevent the Rising, and in the resolve, in the last resort, 
 of sharing with the others the end that he foresaw for 
 them. 
 
 First of all, however, he was determined to prevent 
 throwing the Irish Brigade into that danger. The 
 German military authorities, he learned, contemplated 
 sending them to Ireland in trawlers, guarded by a 
 submarine; and he knew that at the first sight of danger 
 they would be left to their fate — a fate not difficult, in 
 
 113 1
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 that event, to guess, seeing that they had been enrolled, 
 sworn, and had fought as British soldiers. As for these 
 men, he wrote : " I felt a peculiar responsibility for their 
 not being captured by the British Government." There- 
 fore he fought their case with the military authorities. 
 He refused his permission to send them, and said that 
 widiout his instructions, or Monteith's instructions, the 
 men would refuse to go. The struggle was a stiff one, 
 provocative of anger and hard words on each side. The 
 military men threatened to call off all their promised 
 assistance, and to announce to the Irish leaders in 
 America that the responsibility lay with him, leaving 
 him to be charged with failure at a critical and decisive 
 hour. " It is," he writes, " the most damnable position 
 a man was ever put in." " Cads, scoundrels, cowards, 
 and inveterate liars," he describes all the men, but one, 
 against whom he fights. 
 
 So the struggle continued for days. "I saw Monteith," 
 he writes. " We agreed that under no circumstances am 
 I to consent to the men going, that Monteith will accom- 
 pany me, but we go alone — and beyond that I can decide 
 nothing. I am already a dead man, but not yet a wholly 
 dishonoured one despite all my mistakes. God knows 
 they were not for self." At last, however, the fight was 
 won and his decision was accepted, not with any grace, 
 that the Irish Brigade should not be sent on that enter- 
 prise. 
 
 So he escaped from the first net that had entoiled him, 
 and his diaries (locked up until he was dead and the war 
 over) reveal the intensity of the effort to free himself. 
 They are full of anger and pain. They show him as 
 
 114
 
 EASTER WEEK I A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 seeing the question of honour in so intense and personal 
 a light as to enrage those against whom he fought, just as 
 that personal vision, at that moment, would no doubt 
 have bewildered a good many of die men in Ireland. 
 For both these sets of men, from their entirely different 
 points of view, saw human beings as but part of the 
 causes they espoused, whereas he saw causes as taking 
 their worth and virtue from the personal worth and 
 virtue of the human beings who espoused them; he 
 was meticulous for personal honour with a passion that 
 one set of them did not comprehend and the other 
 probably would not have done. They show him, too, 
 preparing to die, open-eyed and resolute, not, like 
 Padraic Pearse, as an act of immolation, but as an act 
 of expiation. Over them hangs the twilight of doom — 
 the doom of one who perceives that he has stirred the 
 envy of the gods in having, now at last, undertaken some- 
 thing beyond his powers, and about whom the coils of his 
 fate are falling. 
 
 It is in this light he is seen essaying his next task. 
 That task was to get a warning sounded in Ireland. It 
 had been arranged that a shipload of 100,000 rifles, and 
 ammunition, were to be landed at Fenit, in Tralee Bay, 
 according to the wish of the men in Ireland. He, there- 
 fore, demanded to be sent to Ireland in advance by 
 submarine; and in a memorandum prepared for the 
 authorities he points out " that it was essential to send 
 over before the shipment of arms certain intelligence to 
 our friends in Ireland, so that the landing-place or places 
 might be finally fixed, the date and all arrangements 
 made in concert." Such was the reason put before the 
 
 ii5
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 German authorities. But to his comrade, Monteith, he 
 explains " that my only hope in going is to arrive in time 
 to dissuade the leaders at home from the attempt. That, 
 if I can only get ashore a little ahead of the rifles, I may 
 be able to slop the ' Rising,' and arrange only for the 
 safe delivery of the rifles. If this can be done (and only 
 then) would the thing prove useful. Otherwise, it is an 
 awful danger. Of course, the chances are that we will 
 never get near the shores of Ireland." 
 
 In all this he moves as seeing only one thing clearly in 
 the twilight of doubt and difficulty. He had learned 
 that the men in Ireland expected German officers and 
 artillery, whereas the only men to be sent were the Irish 
 Brigade, roughly trained in artillery practice for that 
 event. On this he based the reasons for his doubt; but 
 it is clear that his doubt was really based on reasons far 
 more widely spread and much less easy to define. 
 
 The German authorities, however, met his demand by 
 a flat refusal. They would not treat with him — would 
 hardly even discuss with him. 
 
 While still continuing his demand, with a pertinacity 
 both natural and desperate, he turned, then, to another 
 means of communication. There was in Germany at the 
 time an Irish-American by the name of John McGoey, 
 who had come from America to assist him. He pro- 
 posed, therefore, to get McGoey out of the country, as 
 the bearer of a message to the men in Ireland. ' I 
 explained the situation to him very fully," he writes, 
 
 116
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 " and pointed out the imperative need of trying to get 
 someone into Ireland to warn them there of the wholly 
 inadequate help being sent, and to say that I strongly 
 urged no rising." McGoey said it would be criminal 
 and that he had long suspected the Germans of playing 
 a double game. He would do anything I asked him. 
 I told him it was necessary for me to keep silent as to my 
 real opinions before the German General Staff, and that 
 when I took him to the Admiralty he must keep silent, 
 too." 
 
 So it was arranged. The German authorities agreed 
 to let McGoey travel without papers or passport to 
 Denmark, in the hope that he might get ship from 
 Copenhagen to Scotland, and to send a police agent with 
 him to the frontier; and on the 19th of March he left 
 Berlin on his errand. " He goes," write Casement, " as 
 an added string to our bow (an addition to my telegram 
 to Devoy) to tell the Dublin Council to have the pilot 
 boat ready at Inishtooskert, etc.; but he goes really to try 
 and get the heads in Ireland to call off the ' Rising.' . . . 
 It he gets safely through to Dublin he is to seek out Tom 
 Clarke, and through Bulmer Hobson, and try to ' call 
 oft ' the Rising." 
 
 A few days afterwards he was sent for to the 
 Admiralty, and charged with sending John McGoey to 
 Ireland for his own purposes. " It was," he writes, " a 
 most unseemly exhibition of German military culture. 
 I gave back as good as I got and insisted on the stopping 
 of the whispering, and on the conversation being con- 
 tinued in a language I understood, either English or 
 French. The chief cause of the fury was that I had sent 
 
 117
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 John McGoey to Ireland. I nearly laughed in Nodoling's 
 face. He said it was a gross breach of faith. I told him 
 he was a liar. . . . Their fear was that I had sent John 
 McGoey to slop the Rising. They asked me again and 
 again if I had so instructed him. I said I was not the 
 master of the Irish Revolutionary Body, and whatever 
 I might say would be advice or suggestion. When I 
 avowed that John McGoey himself was dead against the 
 Rising their fury was uncontrolled. How had I dared 
 to send such a man to Ireland without letting them 
 know?" 
 
 In face of this, however, he continued his demand to 
 be sent himself to Ireland by submarine. Everywhere 
 throughout his diaries sounds the note of his personal 
 responsibility, and his desire to make his personal effort 
 or share his personal risk in the outcome. " How can I 
 go on with it?" he asks. " What am I to do? Whatever 
 way I turn, misery, failure, degradation, and no way out. 
 I know not what to do. I have told Monteith the actual 
 fear I have — not physical or for myself, but for Ireland 
 and our national cause. We are being put in an abject 
 position — and this by this great almighty power. . . . 
 As for the ' Rising ' itself in Ireland, to attempt it with 
 this help is — well, a masterpiece of idiocy." 
 
 "The whole thing appals me," he writes again, "as 
 a piece of the most ghastly folly — or, rather, as one of 
 the most criminal attempts ever perpetrated. And I am 
 debarred from saying so, and from the needed steps to 
 prevent it, by fear of incurring a personal reproach of 
 
 118
 
 EASTER WEEK .' A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 cowardice (already grossly implied by some of those who 
 are handling the matter at the General Staff), or worse 
 still, by fear of perhaps not preventing the Rising, but 
 only depriving my countrymen of the arms at the critical 
 moment." " Irishmen," he avers, " will bitterly resent 
 bloodshed and civil strife in Ireland, forced on, as will 
 then seem apparent, by a filibustering expedition launched 
 from Germany for that purpose." 
 
 In this mood — desperate enough to write : " I feel like 
 a man already damned. . . . The sooner my life is taken 
 from me the better " — in this torment of despair and 
 agony of spirit, he fought unceasingly for the submarine. 
 Two things only he demanded, and demanded as of right. 
 The first was the submarine. The second was a bottle 
 of poison. To so tragic an outcome had he at last been 
 brought — he who all his life had been the knight-errant 
 of lost causes. 
 
 It was at this moment that he received a letter, dated 
 
 the 5th of April, from Berne. It was from Joseph 
 
 Plunkett, and bore the sign agreed between them the 
 
 previous June, by which he should know from whom it 
 
 came. This sign was the word " Ashling," from the 
 
 Irish aisling, meaning " a vision." But the letter was 
 
 concerned only with the practical business of the vision, 
 
 and was brief and immediate. It ran : 
 
 Berne, 
 <$th April, 1916. 
 " Ashling." 
 
 Dear Roger Casement, 
 
 I am sent here as delegate by the President and 
 
 Supreme Council of the Irish Volunteers, and through 
 
 the courtesy of his Excellency the German Ambassador 
 
 119
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 I am enabled to give you this urgent message from 
 Ireland : 
 
 i. The Rising is fixed for the evening of next Easier 
 Sunday. 
 
 2. The large consignment of arms to be brought into 
 Tralee Bay must arrive there not later than the dawn 
 of Easier Monday. 
 
 3. German officers will be necessary for die Volunteer 
 forces. This imperative. 
 
 4. A German submarine will be required in Dublin 
 harbour. 
 
 The time is very short, but is necessarily so, for we 
 must act of our own choice, and delays are dangerous. 
 
 Yours very sincerely, 
 
 A Friend of James Malcolm. 
 
 Instantly he went to the Admiralty, taking the letter 
 with him. The reply he received was that the submarine 
 would not be given. He was in despair, and writes that 
 the Germans must then have thought him mad; " I was 
 for the moment," he adds, " and utterly angry when I 
 thought of Ireland, of those poor boys on Easter Sunday 
 and Easter Monday waiting for the steamer, the Rising 
 already accomplished, and their only hope the ship with 
 the rifles and the officers who will not be there." He 
 prayed that the ship with the rifles might be captured, 
 with himself on board, in order that this news might get 
 abroad and so the situation be saved. " I pray God for this 
 solution to save the situation in Ireland, and to save our 
 young people from being made the victims of this callous 
 conspiracy. Poor Ireland ! God save her. Indeed, only 
 He can." 
 
 We wired back to Berne : 
 
 120
 
 EASTER WEEK I A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 jth April, 1916. 
 
 When did you leave Dublin, and what were your last- 
 advices from Germany? 
 
 Steamer with 20,000 rifles, 5,000,000 cartridges, 10 
 machine-guns, 1,000,000 cartridges will be off Inish- 
 tooskert Rock, N.W. Hags, on Easier Sunday night. 
 
 No German officers or men going — impossible 
 despatch. 
 
 No submarine can be sent. 
 
 Can you reach Dublin before Easier Sunday? A letter 
 with fuller information follows. 
 
 Having sent this telegram, he wrote at once at length, 
 and gave the letter to the only friend he had at the 
 Admiralty to send by special courier to Berne. If that 
 letter is anywhere available is not known. It would prove 
 an interesting document. 
 
 As a result of the letter from Berne, however, the 
 entire situation was changed. It would seem that the 
 German authorities felt that the Rising was now deter- 
 mined beyond recall, and that the departure of Roger 
 Casement could do nothing to prevent it. Perhaps, too, 
 they felt relieved to be free of his presence, not only to be 
 rid of his immediate importunity, but to be rid, also, of 
 the public reproach his presence in Germany (not im- 
 possibly, his living presence anywhere) musl certainly 
 afterwards be. For the following day he was summoned 
 to the Admiralty, and during the two and a half hours 
 that he waited there, as he learned, " a full-dress debate " 
 was held on the advisability of sending him to Ireland 
 by submarine, as he had wished. 
 
 At the end of that time he was informed that his wish 
 
 121
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 was granted. A submarine was to be provided to send 
 him to Ireland. ' You will promise to land me in good 
 time?" he asked, and that promise was given. The bottle 
 of poison was also promised. A messenger was to be sent 
 to Wilhelmshaven to arrange for the submarine, and from 
 Wilhelmshaven came the message that the submarine 
 would be ready at Emden at his service on the 12th of 
 April. So on Tuesday, the nth of April, with the faith- 
 ful Monteith and, fatefully, one other (who afterwards 
 turned King's evidence against him) for his companions, 
 he left Berlin for his last journey. 
 
 §4 
 
 He is next seen, with two companions, about 5 o'clock 
 on Good Friday morning (two days, that is, before the 
 date arranged for the Rising) walking in the direction of 
 Ardfert from the Kerry coast. He had earnestly pleaded 
 with the submarine commander to be landed in 
 Co. Galway, in order, first, to have another day to get 
 into touch with Dublin, and, second, to have readier 
 access there. But he had been refused. The com- 
 mander's orders were to meet the ship bearing the arms 
 off Fenit Head on Friday, the 21st, and to land Case- 
 ment at that place on that day. In pursuance of these 
 orders he and his companions had been placed in a 
 collapsible canvas boat the night before, from which, wet 
 and weary, physically ill and mentally worn, he had just 
 alighted, leaving the boat drawn up on the beach for all 
 to see. 
 
 The immediate thought was to get into touch with 
 
 122
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 the Volunteers at Tralee. It was decided that Roger 
 Casement himself would make too conspicuous a figure 
 in the town, whereas his two companions would pass 
 unnoticed. He, therefore, took cover in a hollow, known 
 locally as McKenna's Fort, while Lieutenant Monteith 
 and Bailey went on into Tralee, there to get early Mass 
 and to establish contact with the Volunteers. 
 
 In Tralee they met Austin Stack, who had been sent 
 down from Dublin, with two others, to organize the land- 
 ing of the expected arms and to assume the local com- 
 mand. In conformity with the message that had been 
 sent through America to Berlin, the date for this landing 
 had been changed from Good Friday to Easter Sunday, 
 and the proper receipt of that message is to be seen as 
 registered in the telegram sent by Roger Casement 
 through the German Admiralty to Berne on the 7th of 
 April. Now came the news that Casement had landed, 
 and was awaiting relief; and with it came the news that 
 the ship bearing the arms was due in Tralee Bay that 
 very day. 
 
 At once all was activity. Austin Stack set out in 
 a motor-car to find Casement, but he returned saying 
 that he had been unable to proceed, as the wheels of 
 his car had sunk in the sand. He proposed sending help 
 on foot, but on his return he was informed by the police 
 that he and his companions were to report themselves 
 at the police station. Seeing that the police were 
 suspicious as to his movements, and thinking to allay that 
 suspicion, he proceeded to the station, where he was at 
 once arrested. With characteristic courage he en- 
 
 123
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 deavoured to break loose, but he was unsuccessful, and so 
 the local Volunteers were left without their commandant 
 and their principal officers, in whose hands lay the 
 details of all arrangements. 
 
 The truth was that the police had been advised that 
 something was a-wind. Even before Roger Casement and 
 his companions had been seen and their presence re- 
 ported to the police, the collapsible boat had been found 
 at dawn on the beach. The connection between the boat 
 and the presence of three Strangers walking the road 
 towards Ardfert was obvious, and a search was at once 
 instituted. Yet it was not till 1.20 p.m. that day, after 
 Auslin Stack had been arresled, that Casement was found 
 hiding in McKenna's Fort. He gave the name of Richard 
 Morton, but he was arresled, and taken to Tralee police 
 barracks, where Austin Stack and his officers were 
 already held. 
 
 In the meantime, the ship with the arms had been 
 bearing towards Fenit Head. This was the Aud, that had 
 separately found its way, under the Norwegian flag, round 
 by the Hebrides, and had successfully evaded all dangers 
 and reached Irish waters. A month before the American 
 police had raided the offices of the German Embassy in 
 New York, and had seized a document stating that " arms 
 musl not be landed before night of Sunday, 23rd." This 
 document had at once been furnished to the British 
 Government. Yet no special watch seemed to be kept, 
 and no special difficulties were encountered when the 
 Aud threw overboard her false cargo of pit-props and 
 door-frames, made ready for the delivery of the rifles 
 
 124
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 hidden underneath, and made her way from the high 
 seas towards Tralee Bay. 
 
 The difficulty was of another making. In spite of the 
 telegram changing the date of the landing from Friday 
 to Sunday, the instructions of the skipper of the And were 
 for the original date of Friday. On Friday, therefore, 
 he waited for the agreed signals, either from Casement, 
 whom he was to meet there, or from the Volunteers. 
 Receiving no signals, he assumed treachery (where there 
 was no treachery, but mismanagement), and put to sea 
 again. His hope was to escape with his cargo from the 
 dangers that beset him where he lay, but his presence 
 was now known, and he was given chase by the Bluebell 
 and taken to Cork Harbour, where he blew up his 
 ship. 
 
 Good Friday, thus, turned to a day of fatalities. The 
 shipment of arms, on which so much had been built, had 
 miscarried, and with it had gone the careful strategy by 
 which it had been hoped to hold the country while the 
 Dublin Volunteers seized the seats of government. Roger 
 Casement had been arrested, without delivery of the 
 appeal he had wished to make that the Rising be stopped, 
 and that no more be attempted than the landing of the 
 arms and the fuller equipment of the Volunteers. And 
 Austin Stack and his principal officers had been arrested, 
 leaving the local Volunteers without knowledge of the 
 plans made in Dublin. 
 
 Only one person had escaped who knew Roger Case- 
 ment's mind fully. This was Lieutenant Monteith, and 
 for him the police were searching everywhere. That 
 evening the last train of the day left for Dublin, and every 
 
 125
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 person in the station was kept under careful observation. 
 The engine-driver stood to his post, the fireman was busy 
 in overalls about the engine, and every passenger was 
 known. So the train left. But the police did not know 
 that the fireman of that train was Lieutenant Monteith, 
 bearing from Roger Casement an appeal to the Military 
 Council. Late that night he reached Dublin safely, and 
 at once set out to discover the men in command of the 
 Volunteers. He found that he had arrived at a critical 
 moment. 
 
 Having in January sent the message, through America, 
 to Berlin that the Rising had been determined for Easter, 
 the Military Council still kept its secret close. By that 
 Council the decision had been taken — not by the Volun- 
 teer Executive — and few, very few, were let in the region 
 of its confidence. There might have been, and there 
 was, a good deal of loose talk about taking up arms 
 against the national foe, and probably the Military Council 
 and its trusted agents encouraged such talk, knowing that 
 while folk talked nothing definite would be expected, and 
 yet while folk talked the general mind would be bent 
 towards the planned event. But the actual decision itself 
 was a different matter. None knew of it but they, 
 or of the appointment of a definite date, or of the arrange- 
 ments with Germany by which it was to be accompanied 
 and fortified. These were matters with which only the 
 rarest were entrusted. It was inevitable that the general 
 mass of the Volunteers and of Sinn Fein, even of those 
 who held high positions, should be excluded from that 
 
 126
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 knowledge, but three persons were deliberately chosen for 
 that exclusion, and it was the interposition of these three 
 that turned the scale at the last moment and caused the 
 abandonment of the plans in so far as they involved the 
 whole of Ireland. 
 
 The first of these was Roger Casement. Little he 
 thought, as he wrote his pitiful outcries in his diary, that 
 the Germans were acting on the request, of his own 
 countrymen, in Ireland and in America, in withholding 
 information and assistance from him. He had sought 
 the counsel of men whom they did not trust. His mind 
 moved towards world-politics with which they were little 
 concerned, holding as they did the immediate position in 
 Ireland before their undivided attention. Therefore the 
 German authorities were requested to hold him at arm's 
 length and fob him off. 
 
 The second of these was Eoin MacNeill, who held the 
 title (that cannot be described, in the circumstances of the 
 case, as other than completely ironic) of Chief-of-Staft of 
 the Irish Volunteers. He was known to be opposed to 
 a rising. He had expressed the opinion that if, and when, 
 the Volunteers were attacked, or any attempt made to 
 suppress them, they would be justified in taking arms arid 
 fighting in defence, but he was opposed to an offensive; 
 and, indeed, an offensive could not have appeared as 
 otherwise to him than as the plannings of lunacy. He 
 had not lived in the close world that had looked so con- 
 stantly and so fixedly, though from so many different 
 angles, on such an event that it had evoked a visionary 
 mood, beyond reach of the reason on which he naturally 
 depended. Therefore he, too, was excluded from know- 
 
 127
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 ledge, and was left at the head of the Volunteers as a 
 mask. 
 
 The third was Arthur Griffith. He had been invited 
 to join the Supreme Council of the I.R.B., and to share 
 its responsibility in whatever plans were made. But he 
 had declined, disliking, as he did, the procedure of secret 
 societies. He preferred to keep his place as the open 
 publicist, but he asked that he should be kept in full 
 knowledge of whatever was being planned or done. The 
 promise of such knowledge was given to him, but that 
 promise was not kept. 
 
 There is no apportionment of blame in these matters. 
 Time has lifted them beyond blame. The men who 
 planned a rising had brooded so long on that event that 
 it had come to pass in their minds, and they avoided 
 contact with other minds in which that finality had not 
 occurred. They had, in a very real sense, passed into a 
 world of vision, and they kept away from those who did 
 not share that vision, not having passed through the 
 brooding intensity by which it had been attained. They 
 might have very carefully planned (they did, in fact, care- 
 fully plan) a complete military strategy for the country, 
 and devise all the details of German military assistance; 
 but, even though they did not know it, the event itself in 
 their minds stood separate from these fortifications and 
 accompaniments, and had to be completed in fact as it 
 had already been completed in intention, whatever befell 
 them. But the result was that there was a division. That 
 division also was a fact, and it had finally to make 
 itself felt. 
 
 It was not till the Thursday before Easter Sunday 
 
 128
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 (even while Roger Casement, unknown to him, in his 
 submarine was approaching the Irish coast) that Eoin 
 MacNeill learned definitely what had been planned for 
 the forthcoming Sunday. Orders had been issued in his 
 name for special parades and manoeuvres over the entire 
 country for that day, but such parades and manoeuvres 
 had now become habitual, and he (absorbed as he was 
 by his historical studies, and seldom to be seen at head- 
 quarters) had seen nothing significant in these orders. He 
 knew, indeed, that certain of his colleagues desired a 
 rising, and that an organization to that end existed within 
 the Volunteers, but he had never connected their 
 ambitions with an event so near. It was Bulmer Hobson, 
 the Secretary of the Volunteers, and a close personal 
 friend of Eoin MacNeill, who, during that week, first: 
 perceived that special significance was being attached to 
 the following Sunday's manoeuvres. He instantly took 
 steps to counteract the war party's moves and com- 
 municated his fears to the Chief-of-Staff. The two of 
 them endeavoured to elicit information as to what was 
 being proposed for the organization under their 
 administration, but during Tuesday and Wednesday they 
 demanded in vain, and were like men without a task in 
 a house full of activity. 
 
 Then, on the Thursday, Eoin MacNeill learned that 
 orders had been issued to blow up bridges and railroads 
 at an appointed hour on Sunday. The naked fact now 
 stood clear of all disguise, and the Chief-of-Staff con- 
 fronted his colleagues, Padraic Pearse, Vice-Chairman of 
 the Volunteer Executive, and Thomas MacDonagh, Com- 
 mandant of the Dublin Brigade, and charged them with 
 
 129 K
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 withholding information from him. Pearse's answer was 
 simple and final. " It was necessary," he said, and he 
 added that it was now impossible to prevent the plans 
 from coming into operation as arranged. The Rising 
 had but to occur and was beyond recall. Eoin MacNeill 
 thought otherwise, and expressed his determination to 
 slop it by every means in his power, by the full exercise 
 of his authority and responsibility. 
 
 So the two sides parted in confusion. The division 
 had begun, and a trial of strength had opened. All that 
 day Eoin MacNeill spent preparing orders to be issued 
 by the Secretary as from the Chief-of-Staff cancelling the 
 earlier orders for parades, manoeuvres, and route marches 
 for the coming week-end. Learning of this, the war party 
 struck their blow in reply. On Friday (at the very 
 moment that the police in Kerry, unknown to all in 
 Dublin, were searching for, and were about to arrest, 
 Roger Casement) Bulmer Hobson was arrested by orders 
 of the Military Council and placed under close guard in 
 a certain Dublin house. At the same time possession was 
 taken of headquarters, and as Friday closed, while a 
 cluster of Eoin MacNeill's friends conferred with him, 
 it seemed that the power of the Chief-of-Staff to reach 
 the Volunteers, who looked to him for guidance, had 
 effectually been cut off. 
 
 Early the following morning the positions were 
 reversed. It was Padraic Pearse and Thomas MacDonagh 
 who came to see the Chief-of-StafT. They came to say 
 that the cunning of all their plans had come to naught. 
 Roger Casement was arrested. Austin Stack was arrested. 
 Worse still, there had been mismanagement respecting the 
 
 130
 
 EASTER WEEK I A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 shipload of arms. The Aud had come too early, nothing 
 had been ready for her arrival, and no arms could now 
 be expected. Lastly, a message had been received from 
 Roger Casement appealing (even in the belief that arms 
 would be landed) that the Rising be called off, and saying 
 that the Germans had never intended any help worth 
 the having. 
 
 §6 
 
 Such was the situation that both sides (whether for war 
 or for peace) had now to face as they conferred together. 
 Disaster on disaster had befallen, and in the welter only 
 one thing seemed clear beyond dispute. This was that 
 the forcible suppression of the Volunteers must immedi- 
 ately follow — in fact, that the sequel was a mere matter 
 of hours, now that Dublin Castle knew of the landing 
 of Roger Casement and of the presence of the Aud. But 
 this was the very situation in face of which Eoin MacNeill 
 had declared that resort to arms would be justified. How- 
 ever earnestly he might protest against the measures that 
 had been taken without his knowledge to bring such a 
 situation to pass, there was no room now, he agreed, for 
 division or recrimination. All must stand together to 
 resist the oncoming blow, and he therefore declared his 
 willingness to take his place in an immediate call 
 to arms. 
 
 Padraic Pearse and Thomas MacDonagh left happy in 
 that assurance, resolved to press forward arrangements 
 for the morrow in the confidence that the action to be 
 taken would be supported on every side. But as the day 
 passed without action from Dublin Castle, the situation 
 
 131
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 seemed to change. Moreover, the message from Case- 
 ment began to make its appeal, as it had not done im- 
 mediately on its receipt. Eoin MacNeill therefore 
 communicated with Arthur Griffith, and called Thomas 
 MacDonagh (with whom came Joseph Plunkett) to 
 another conference that Saturday evening. 
 
 Thus the three excluded streams of influence merged 
 together. Roger Casement was present by the fact that 
 his appeal was before this eleventh-hour conference (and 
 it is strange to reflect that even while the conference was 
 being held he himself passed through Dublin on his way 
 to London under arrest), and Arthur Griffith and Eoin 
 MacNeill were present in person. The merging of these 
 three streams, even at that eleventh hour, was sufficient 
 to undo all that had been so carefully planned. For it 
 was decided to call off the Rising. Messengers were 
 chosen, who speeded away to the country, bearing an 
 order from the Chief-of-Staff. The same order was given 
 to Thomas MacDonagh as Commandant of the Dublin 
 Brigade. And, lest there should be any miscarriage, the 
 same order was sent to be printed in the Sunday issue of 
 the Irish Independent. This order was, that " owing to 
 the very critical position all orders given to the Volunteer 
 Corps " for the following day were " rescinded," and 
 specifically that " no parades, marches, or other move- 
 ments of Irish Volunteers will take place. Each individual 
 Volunteer," it required, " will obey this order in every 
 particular." 
 
 That night the churches had been full of Volunteers, 
 going to Confession in preparation for the morrow; but 
 on the following day all was silent in the city and in the 
 
 13a
 
 EASTER WEEK '. A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 country. MacNeill's order had been successful. But on 
 the same day two critical conferences were held. One 
 was of the chiefs of Dublin Castle; the other was of the 
 chiefs of the I.R.B. and those who with them had planned 
 the Rising. The first, had before it the knowledge of 
 Casement's landing and of the presence of the Aud. 
 The second had before it the order issued by the Chief-of- 
 Staff. But while the first, was anxious not to precipitate 
 action, the second was anxious only to move immediately. 
 Therefore, while the first, decided to postpone decision till 
 the morrow, the second decided to take action on the 
 morrow. 
 
 That second conference met in Liberty Hall, the head- 
 quarters of the Transport and General Workers' Union 
 and of the Citizen Army. While it was being held, 
 Eoin MacNeill, fearing that some counter-move was being 
 planned, endeavoured to communicate wirii Thomas 
 MacDonagh, but failed to do so. He therefore sent an 
 order direct to the Adjutant of the Dublin Brigade. This 
 Adjutant was Eamon de Valera, and the order read : 
 
 As Commt. MacDonagh is not accessible, I have to 
 give you this order direct. Commt. MacDonagh left me 
 last night with the understanding that he would return 
 or send me a message. He has done neither. 
 
 As Chief-of-StarT I have ordered and hereby order that 
 no movement whatsoever of Irish Volunteers is to be 
 made to-day. You will carry out this order in your own 
 command and make it known to other commands. 
 
 Eoin MacNeill. 
 
 At the same time the following further order was 
 issued to be printed in the morrow's papers : 
 
 J 33
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 The order issued to Irish Volunteers printed over my 
 name in to-day's Sunday Independent is hereby authenti- 
 cated. Every influence should be used immediately and 
 throughout the day to secure faithful execution of this 
 order, as any failure to obey it may result in a very grave 
 catastrophe. EoIN MacNeill . 
 
 Within Liberty Hall, however, these influences had 
 little weight; in the minds of the men there the event had 
 already occurred. That it should not have passed into 
 action that day as expected meant for them an upheaval 
 of all the meaning their lives had taken during many 
 months of happy and confident hope. A balk such as 
 this was a turning back of time. It was monstrous and 
 incredulous; a challenge of perversity, not meekly to be 
 embraced. With each man of the company the decision, 
 taken long ago, had but to be completed. James Connolly 
 was willing, for his part, to go out alone; would, if 
 necessary, go out alone with the Citizen Army. Padraic 
 Pearse, looking for the spiritual renewal of a nation in a 
 sacrifice of blood, was willing to make that sacrifice with 
 a handful of those who shared his faith. Tom Clarke's 
 whole life had been lived in expectation of this hour. 
 Frustration of his hope had turned Sean MacDermott from 
 a young man into an old man overnight — shocking those 
 who looked on him by the disastrous change in his 
 physical appearance. 
 
 The conclusion, therefore, was foregone. The plans 
 for the country had of course gone irretrievably. More- 
 over, even in Dublin, the general body of the Volunteers 
 could scarcely be expected to act in defiance of Eoin Mac- 
 Neill's order. Reliance could only be placed on those 
 
 134
 
 EASTER WEEK I A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 who had been sworn members of the I.R.B., on the 
 Citizen Army, and on such others as these might bring 
 with them. The force could not but be meagre; yet with 
 such a force it was decided to translate resolve into action. 
 Thomas MacDonagh was accordingly ordered to mobilize 
 the Dublin Brigade for active service at 10 o'clock the 
 following morning, and each battalion was appointed to 
 its place in the original plan. 
 
 At noon the next day, while the chiefs of Dublin Castle 
 sat in council there to determine whether action should 
 be taken, the sound of a rifle-shot announced action had 
 already begun. As part of the larger action, an attack 
 had been made on that citadel. The attack there failed, 
 and the failure profoundly influenced the action at every 
 other point, but it was also curiously significant. Had 
 the sudden assault there been carried, the Rising would 
 have, for practical purposes, succeeded. The chief heads 
 of government would have been captured and the 
 machinery of government would have been destroyed. 
 But the attack blundered, the policeman at the gates was 
 shot, and the great gates at once were closed. Thus, 
 though as a consequence of that blunder the citadel was 
 held, the guardian at the gate died. It was a tragic 
 symbol, for the historic effect of the Rising, so begun, 
 was to remove the civic guardian and to open a war that 
 was not to conclude until Dublin Castle itself had fallen. 
 
 Elsewhere there was better success. The Military 
 Council occupied the Post Office. With its members 
 
 *35
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 were the military staff, and James Connolly, in command 
 of the entire operations in Dublin. The first, battalion, 
 under Edward Daly, occupied the Four Courts; the 
 second battalion, under Thomas MacDonagh, occupied 
 Jacob's Biscuit Factory; the third battalion, under Eamon 
 de Valera, occupied Boland's Mills; the fourth battalion, 
 under Eamon Ceannt, occupied the South Dublin Union, 
 controlling Knightsbridge Station. In addition to these 
 the North Dublin Union, controlling the Broadstone 
 Station, was occupied by a force operating from the Four 
 Courts, and a small force, under Thomas Ashe and Richard 
 Mulcahy, operated in the county to the north of the city, 
 to cut off railway and other access from that direction. 
 
 The intention of this disposition is easy to follow. A 
 ring of forts was held around the city, placed at strategic 
 points, and in buildings that lent themselves to defence. 
 In this way it was expected that the city could be held 
 for a considerable length of time. The disposition had 
 been devised when plans were made for action throughout 
 the country, and thus there were reasons to suppose that 
 the city, so surrounded, could be held long enough for 
 help to arrive both directly from the country and as a 
 consequence of concerted action there. 
 
 Unfortunately for these plans, the action in the 
 country had effectually been frustrated by Eoin Mac- 
 Neill's order. Moreover, the effect in Dublin itself of 
 that order was that only a section of the Dublin Brigade 
 acted on the hasty mobilization at the last moment. 
 The entire body that went into action on that Monday 
 comprised about eight hundred of the Volunteers and 
 some two hundred of the Citizen Army. During that 
 
 136
 
 EASTER WEEK : A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 day, and during the following day, a scattered few 
 joined their comrades, but these did not amount to much 
 more than a hundred. Among them was O'Rahilly. 
 He had been opposed to the Rising, and had on Saturday 
 night carried Eoin MacNeill's countermanding order to 
 Limerick and Cork cities. Finding on his return that 
 some of the Volunteers were going into action, he threw 
 in his lot with them and joined their meagre company as 
 a matter of honourable obligation. Thus, through that 
 week's fighting, not more than eleven hundred men were 
 engaged in die attempt to hold the city. 
 
 With so few engaged in that wide-flung disposition, 
 not much could be attempted. Yet, of all the command- 
 ants, only Eamon de Valera and Edward Daly showed 
 any real tactical skill or recognized what tiieir task 
 demanded of them. The others held their fortresses 
 against all comers. At Jacob's Factory none came, and 
 the days passed without record of a single engagement. 
 At the South Dublin Union the fighting was heavy, and 
 that the defence was fearless and stubborn the presence 
 there of Eamon Ceannt and Cathal Brugha is enough 
 to indicate. But only Eamon de Valera and Edward 
 Daly used their fortresses, not (as did the others) for 
 defence merely, but as the centre and pivot of operations 
 throughout the whole area of their command. The 
 force in the country, under Thomas Ashe and Richard 
 Mulcahy, had of necessity to operate over a wide area; 
 and it is significant that the commandants of these 
 three forces v/ere the most, successful of the week. Their 
 defence was never pierced; and, not being confined to 
 any one point, it could not be encircled and neglected. 
 
 J 37
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 The most conspicuous success fell to Eamon de Valera 
 — who thereby afterwards became the hero and darling 
 of the Rising. His operations were brilliant. Consider- 
 ing how meagre his force was, they were remarkable. 
 He lay across the roads along which the reinforcements, 
 that were hurried over from England had to pass on their 
 way to the city. By placing small groups at strategic 
 houses, chosen skilfully, he conveyed the impression of 
 a strong force and made the way impassable. The 
 heaviest British casualties occurred in his area. As 
 troops were landed at Kingstown, they were hurried 
 through the district he held. He waited till they were 
 well enmeshed, and then opened fire on them from all 
 sides. The result was that very heavy losses were in- 
 curred by them, whereas his own losses were small. 
 
 As a result, his area of command remained im- 
 pregnable to the last. He was held engaged to the end, 
 it is true; but the incoming troops were taken into the 
 city by other ways. They swung to the west, and moved 
 into the city by Clanbrassil Street, within a revolver-shot 
 of Jacob's Factory, where Thomas MacDonagh's com- 
 mand awaited attack. 
 
 Further to the west, the South Dublin Union was 
 encircled by attack; and while Eamon Ceannt's men 
 were held cooped there, British troops on Tuesday 
 night and on Wednesday morning penetrated to the 
 city along Thomas Street, protected by the houses from 
 raking fire from the Four Courts across the river. Thus 
 they reached Dublin Castle, and on Thursday were 
 passed across Grattan's Bridge and along Capel Street 
 to surround the headquarters of the Volunteers at the 
 
 i 3 8
 
 EASTER WEEK '. A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 Post Office, so cutting off connection with, and any 
 possible help from, those who, from the Four Courts to 
 the North Dublin Union, had successfully held the north- 
 west of the city, and by street operations resisted penetra- 
 tion from that side. 
 
 This was the beginning of the end. The circle had 
 been pierced from the south and the south-west, and the 
 Post Office was surrounded on all sides except the east. 
 To the east no escape was possible because the broad 
 avenue of O'Connell Street lay open to scathing fire, 
 rocked by snipers and machine-guns. In the meantime, 
 artillery had been mounted in College Green, and from 
 there on Thursday evening incendiary shells had (con- 
 trary to all that James Connolly had so confidently 
 expected) been poured on the Post Office and the build- 
 ings in O'Connell Street about die Post Office. The 
 entire lower end of the street burned in a huge conflagra- 
 tion that lit the whole city. When an escape was made 
 from the burning building, a ring of troops and fire 
 barred all hope of escape from the network of lanes in 
 which the last defence on Friday was made and the final 
 surrender on Saturday agreed. 
 
 When news of that final surrender was conveyed from 
 the scattered headquarters to the various units of com- 
 mand the men were indignant, and there was great 
 difficulty in getting them to accept a situation they could 
 not understand. At Jacob's, for example, no fighting 
 had taken place. Under Eamon de Valera and 
 Edward Daly fighting had been heavy; it had been 
 continuous, and some of the men were maddened from 
 lack of sleep, relief having been almost impossible with 
 
 J39
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 so few to call upon during five days' and nights' con- 
 tinuous engagement; but their areas had not been pierced, 
 or even seriously penetrated. Even at the South Dublin 
 Union, where the outer buildings had been abandoned, 
 a much longer defence seemed possible. Nowhere was 
 it realized that the destruction of headquarters was 
 strategic defeat, compelling surrender in the alternative 
 of slaughter. The various commandants had the 
 utmost difficulty in getting their men to appreciate a 
 situation tiiat was not immediate to them. Moreover, 
 blood was up, and no man would hear of surrender. 
 Hardly could the commandants succeed in winning 
 compliance with that final order sent from headquarters; 
 but by the end of that Saturday the surrender had been 
 accepted by each unit, and lines of sullen, rebellious men 
 marched out to be put under guard. 
 
 So ended six days of stubborn fighting; but so began 
 the Rising. Time was to prove that what had happened 
 was not the end, but the beginning. The thought of 
 warfare had been kindled, yet to burst into flame 
 throughout the country; and a lesson had been learnt 
 for such warfare — never to be pinned to a building, never 
 to abandon loose, guerilla tactics. In the day of black 
 defeat, of surrender and disaster, these things were not 
 to be seen. Time had yet to unfold them. 
 
 §8 
 
 Even in Dublin, within a few hundred yards of the 
 actual fighting, none knew what was happening, beyond 
 the bare information that the Volunteers had occupied 
 
 140
 
 EASTER WEEK I A CHAPTER IN PARENTHESIS 
 
 prominent buildings and were being attacked. The city, 
 by night and day, rattled to the fusillade of firing; and, 
 on Thursday and the succeeding nights, it became like a 
 room illuminated by the monstrous torch lit in O'Connell 
 Street; but news there was none. Rumour flew laden 
 with fantastic stories — true and false, the true not less 
 fantastic than the false — but they were evidence, not 
 of fact, but of the fertility of invention. The area 
 of fighting lay impassably removed from its adjoining 
 streets. 
 
 There were two men to whom that impassable distance 
 was the cause of a long agony. These were Arthur 
 Griffith and Eoin MacNeill. On the Sunday following 
 the previous night's decision to call off the Rising, Mrs. 
 Griffith had gone to spend holiday in Cork at her 
 husband's wish, and he was left in charge of the two 
 children. It was while he was anchored thus that, early 
 in the afternoon of Monday, a neighbour called to him : 
 :< How is it you're not with your friends at the Post 
 Office?" And thus, for the first time, he learned what 
 had been done that day. 
 
 What could he do? What was he to do? If he asked 
 a neighbour to tend the children his intention would have 
 been guessed, and it was unlikely that he would have 
 been allowed to get as far as the Post Office. He lifted 
 the children into his neighbour's garden, instructed them 
 what to do, and made his way at once to the Post Office, 
 to take his part in an enterprise of which he resolutely 
 disapproved. He saw the end only too clearly; but he 
 saw no alternative for him but to take his place with 
 those who went towards that end. 
 
 141
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 At the Post Office, however, he met an unflinching 
 refusal to permit him to share that end. The military 
 men, said Sean MacDermott, knew to what end they 
 were going; and they went to that end in happy con- 
 fidence that all would be well for the nation, when it 
 came to gather the fruit of their action; but Ireland, he 
 said, needed Arthur Griffith living. The greater service 
 for him would be to remain, when they had gone, to 
 live and gather that fruit. They were playing their part. 
 He must play his; and his was to live, as he had lived, 
 the teacher of the people, according to the different 
 services to which they had been called. 
 
 So he was compelled to return; and for two days he 
 lived in an agony of spirit. Then on the Thursday he 
 conceived the plan of a call to the country to come to 
 the help of the men in Dublin. He rode northward by 
 bicycle into the country, and went by country byways a 
 long journey round to Rathfarnham to see Eoin Mac- 
 Neill. There the two of them wrote an appeal to the 
 country to rise and assist Dublin, and they arranged for 
 that appeal to be despatched. But that night O'Connell 
 Street was in flames, and the beginning of the end was 
 announced. 
 
 The appeal was never sent. In any event, it must have 
 come to nothing. All roads were held by military and 
 by armed police, all travellers stopped, and a close watch 
 kept on all persons thought to be dangerous. The state 
 of the country, indeed, was one of helpless ignorance 
 and uneasy fear. 
 
 142
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 §i 
 
 IN Achill, Tuesday, the 25th of April, was a day of un- 
 imaginable beauty. The air was filled with sunlight, 
 like a crystal cup filled with golden liquid that brimmed 
 above the lip. The mountains stood gaunt and bare 
 against the pale sky, with a delicate mist clothing their 
 dark sides softly. The bare fields and heavy boglands 
 were scarfed with colour. The sea flowed to the western 
 horizon, its winter rage laid by, the sunlight glinting in 
 the waves of an offshore wind like the spears of a count- 
 less host; and the islands of the bay, from Clare to 
 Inishbofin, lay in its waters like wonderful jewels that 
 glowed under the sun. Earth, in that wild and desolate 
 place, was altogether lovely, sunk in deep, reticent peace 
 and clothed with delicate and exquisite colour. 
 
 The post that day was late, and, loth to begin work, I 
 had spent the morning looking along the half-mile of 
 road till it bent behind the heath for the rider on the 
 horse that was our only connection with the big world. 
 It was not till long after noon that I saw a friend pulling 
 her bicycle over the bog towards the house. As she came 
 nearer I saw the traces of tears on her cheeks, and 
 wondered. 
 
 'There is no post," she answered my inquiry; "but 
 
 *43
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 there's terrible news. The driver of the mail says they've 
 been fighting in Dublin. Dawson Street is full of dead 
 and wounded men. The Volunteers hold the Bank of 
 Ireland, the General Post. Office, and buildings all over 
 Dublin. The soldiers are attacking them everywhere 
 with machine-guns, and the slaughter is terrible." 
 
 Hardly could I hear her. I looked on that day of 
 breathless beauty, of peace poised in perfect balance. 
 Voices rose up from the land, where the spring work, 
 long delayed after a bad winter, was in full swing. 
 Voices of men, voices of women, and the barking of 
 dogs flowed over the land pleasantly. It was not strange 
 that the mind found some difficulty in recognizing the 
 meaning of this tale of war that came like a stream of 
 blood violently across the peace and beauty of the day. 
 
 Yet already, as I looked, it was apparent that that 
 stream was spreading. Knots of men were standing in 
 the fields and on the road in discussion, and the women 
 were leaving their work on the land and moving towards 
 their cottages. All further thought of work was im- 
 possible; and I, too, went into the villages to gather what 
 news was to be had. In one of the villages a Sunday's 
 paper was discovered, in which appeared Eoin MacNeill's 
 countermanding order. That only complicated the 
 mystery. What was the occasion of this order? In 
 face of this order how had fighting occurred? What 
 was the "critical position" to which it referred? The 
 original manoeuvres, so countermanded, had apparently 
 been ordered for Sunday. How, then, has fighting 
 followed on the Monday? 
 
 The only explanation that expounded these mysteries 
 
 144
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 was that Dublin Castle had proposed to take advantage 
 of the original manoeuvres to Strike their long-expected 
 blow, and, finding itself baulked by the countermanding 
 order, had attacked headquarters the next day. This, 
 therefore, was the version accepted by us all; but it was 
 a version that raised a grave question in one's mind. If 
 one's countrymen were being attacked, pretty plain and 
 clear the duty seemed. It was difficult to sit idle while 
 such a thing occurred. But how could help be given? 
 Already, hard upon the heels of the news, pickets of 
 police, with carbines slung about their shoulders, 
 appeared in the villages; and during the afternoon word 
 was brought to me privately from a member of the local 
 force, who had helped me before, that they were under 
 orders to arrest me if I moved outside a stated radius from 
 my house. A special picket took up its quarters within a 
 hundred yards of the house. 
 
 However, die same thought had come to others. After 
 dark a gentle knock fell on our window, and two men 
 softly entered the house. One was a native of the island, 
 the other was Michael Kilroy, from Newport, on the 
 mainland. 1 He had been sent from the men in the 
 county to ask me to lead them in an attempt to help the 
 men in Dublin by creating a diversion in the west. When 
 he left after midnight, going across the bog, it was 
 arranged that I should leave the island on Thursday. 
 The roads were, of course, carefully guarded. It was 
 
 1 Michael Kilroy afterwards fought with courage during the 
 time of the Black-and-Tan campaign. In 1922 and 1923 he fought 
 with the Irregulars against the Free State; and, as I write, he is 
 now in gaol. 
 
 I45 L
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 therefore agreed that I should go out by Currach, as 
 though for fishing, and be rowed to Achill Beg. From 
 there I was to be rowed to Newport, to arrive there about 
 ten at night, when the men from Castlebar, Westport, 
 and Newport would be gathered to meet me. We 
 hoped, then, to take the police barracks at these places 
 by rapid strokes before dawn, and beyond that we did 
 not trouble to inquire. 
 
 We had no illusions about our plan. None of us 
 expected to survive. Yet it was not in madness we made 
 the plan, but as men who saw no alternative. During 
 Thursday morning, however, a message came from 
 Michael Kilroy saying that the priest at Castlebar (where 
 nearly all the rifles were on which we relied) had inter- 
 vened and had refused to allow the men there to make 
 any move. In face of this, he said, he himself had 
 cancelled everything, and was sending me word at once 
 to make no move. The priest was a wise man. Action 
 taken merely to relieve one's own distress is nearly always 
 wrong; and nothing we could have done would have 
 been of the slightest use. 
 
 §2 
 
 It only remained to wait. It was impossible to work 
 by day, and it was even difficult to sleep by night. No 
 week could have passed more slowly. No days could 
 have been more full of anxiety. In the meantime 
 rumours flew thick and fast, contradicted often as soon 
 as they were current, giving way to others more fantastic 
 still. It is curious to look back upon them now, for 
 
 146
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 they show how the moving yeast of public opinion works 
 when it is cut off from certitude of information. We 
 might in Achill during that week have been carried 
 back three centuries of time, for we were without tele- 
 graphs, posts, and newspapers, without modern appli- 
 ances of information (and misinformation), and were 
 left to rely on just such windy rumours carried from 
 mouth to mouth over long distances as the Elizabethans 
 used for the interest of their lives. The rumours of that 
 week, therefore, as corrected by what was afterwards 
 discovered when the modern machinery began again to 
 work, throw a curious light on the news-sheets of older 
 times, on which historians rely in their grave com- 
 pilations. 
 
 Particularly curious is it to note how nearness shaped 
 a semblance of accuracy, and how distance magnified in- 
 accuracy. On Tuesday news came that Co. Galway was 
 ' up." There, it was said (and said truly), that Liam 
 Mellowes was in command, and that he had returned 
 from exile in England, disguised as a priest, to take the 
 command. Later rumour told that he had marched on 
 the city of Galway, but had retired under fire of gun- 
 boats, and was encamped at Athenry. Then that he 
 had marched on Athlone, and had destroyed the bridge 
 over the Shannon there, but had retreated before a strong 
 force of military with artillery. 
 
 Verisimilitude began to receive its first serious warp at 
 Athlone, apparently. Everything refracted from beyond 
 that lens was unrecognizable — often the mirage of a 
 mirage. Cork and Limerick, we heard with every accent 
 of definition, were " up." Kerry had seized the Atlantic 
 
 M7
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 cable and wireless stations, and the Volunteers were in 
 direct correspondence with America. It was more than 
 interesting to hear history make its contribution; for 
 Wexford, we heard on Thursday, was " up," and that 
 the whole county was in a blaze. It was agreed that 
 little other might be expected from a county that had 
 done so well in 1798, the changes of a century being dis- 
 missed without further thought — an intimate faculty, 
 fruitful of much that was to come. Less easy to follow 
 was the news that came with this, that Drogheda and 
 Dundalk had risen, and had attempted to destroy the 
 railroads leading to the north. Yet not all came from a 
 distance that now seems unintelligible, for on Wednesday 
 we heard that Ballina, some fifty miles away, had risen 
 and had captured Killala Bay, but here again it is possible 
 to see the historic memory at work. It was difficult to 
 know whether all Ireland were in a flame, or a handful 
 of Volunteers were being mercilessly slaughtered in 
 Dublin. The two, in truth, were believed together. Yet 
 no one doubted that Cork, Limerick, Wexford, and 
 Ballina had approved themselves worthy of the seed got 
 from the loins of their splendid past. 
 
 The police, of course, were busy correcting the flight 
 of rumour. They posted reassuring bulletins each day 
 on all telegraph-poles. Folk gathered around these and 
 read them, and turned from them in silent, deep distrust. 
 There we read for the first time that Sir Roger Casement 
 had attempted to land on the Kerry coast with rifles from 
 a German transport, but that he had been arrested on 
 landing from a small boat, and that the transport had 
 been sunk. " German help is now at the bottom of the 
 
 148
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 sea," declared the notice. Nobody believed a word 
 of that notice, or of any notice that kept the same 
 company. 
 
 From the coastguards on Wednesday news was circu- 
 lated that the German navy had attacked in force on the 
 east, coast, of England in the attempt to effect a landing 
 of troops, but that all the German fleet had been sunk, 
 the British fleet losing two battleships. This was re- 
 ceived with measured scepticism. One of the coast- 
 guard's wives, however, the following day was heard to 
 say that not two, but eight British battleships had been 
 sunk. This was whispered swiftly from village to 
 village without comment, but with many a significant 
 nod. 
 
 So the week passed anxiously, and as it passed the 
 problem of food supply began to cause alarm. If the 
 Rising had lasted a week, it might well last very much 
 longer, and then where was food to be had? With the 
 raising of that question anger turned definitely against, 
 the Volunteers in Dublin. Even those who had most 
 stoutly slood for them now were heard to say that this 
 thing had gone far enough. Freedom was all very 
 well, but a people had to live. On Friday no old-age 
 pensions were available; and loud was the outcry. 
 Padraic Pearse's faith might well have been tested if he 
 had heard the denunciations that arose, and included the 
 names of the historic heroes of Irish Insurrection when 
 those names were invoked to justify the present deed. 
 The nation that was to arise in wonder like a phoenix 
 from the ashes of sacrifice was, just then, when he was 
 being driven by flames and machine-guns to surrender, 
 
 149
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 energetically thinking of imports of foreign flour and of 
 weekly pensions from the British post-office. 
 
 Then on the Monday came news that Padraic Pearse 
 had surrendered, and that the commandant under him 
 were accepting the order, though reluctantly. At once 
 the mood of the people began to make a slow change, 
 such a change as he had foreseen. The first week's strain 
 was released by news that told of defeat, an ancient tale 
 in Ireland, full of old honour. On Tuesday the mail 
 was resumed. Newspapers came and were passed 
 eagerly from hand to hand. The people were afraid, 
 for martial law was proclaimed, and the police moved 
 about through the villages in small bands with carbines 
 slung over their shoulders; but the people were sullen, 
 and none passed the friendly time of day to the police 
 that had been usual a week before. The Rising was 
 beginning to take its place among Ireland's tragic efforts 
 for freedom. Its immediate causes were not known. 
 Oddly enough folk now ceased to inquire whether it had 
 been planned or provoked. The fact of its failure was 
 enough, and that fact became its chief success, for so it 
 became kneaded into the subconscious memory of 
 history. 
 
 The change spread rapidly. It was learned that a large 
 part of Dublin lay in ruins as the result of artillery fire, 
 and the papers printed illustrations of the ruin. Anger 
 flamed high at that. Then, as the next week passed, 
 came the toll of executions. The sullen fury and 
 exasperations these awoke cannot be described. After- 
 wards I learned from Arthur Griffith that Sean Mac- 
 Dermott, when they began, and just before he was led to 
 
 150
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 his own trial and execution, said to him that now he was 
 assured of the Tightness of the Rising. The people, he 
 said, would have turned against them had they not been 
 executed, and never again would it be possible for men 
 to rise as they had done; but now that they were to be 
 executed, he was happy, happy in the knowledge that 
 the people would rally behind their act. So he spoke on 
 the eve of his own execution. In distant Achill I saw 
 the change happen. Even those who during Easter 
 Week had been most bitter in denunciation of the 
 Volunteers, now turned all their bitterness and anger 
 against their executioners. Before the executions were 
 finished the change was complete, and no one who saw 
 it happen could doubt that it was so deeply seated as to 
 be permanent, and that Padraic Pearse's prophetic faith 
 had been justified. 
 
 If anything were wanted to confirm the change, it 
 came with the news of wholesale arrests reported from 
 all over the country. Not a parish, it seemed, was to 
 escape. No one who had been in any way connected 
 publicly with Irish affairs was to escape, and even those 
 who had in their own districts made for themselves a 
 little local celebrity were destined not to escape the net 
 that was being flung so widely. Every day the villagers 
 came to me and urged me to go into hiding, bringing 
 plans how this could be done. I did not do so. The 
 day had not come when one grew accustomed to the 
 thought of pending arrest and was prepared on an 
 instant to find cover to evade it. Arrest still seemed, in 
 Ireland then, a fantastic and unbelievable chance. 
 Therefore I still kept my place, and turned back to the 
 
 151
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 work on which I had been engaged when the news of 
 the Rising had come. 
 
 §3 
 
 A week after this I sat one night at work making 
 notes from State papers. I had been at that task all that 
 day, and I was still at it when, about two in the morning, 
 just as I thought to turn in to bed, a strong presentiment 
 fell on me that I was to be arrested the next morning. 
 It came suddenly, and stood with me in the room almost 
 like a physical presence; and it affected me (it itself, that 
 presence, not merely the fear of immediate arrest) with 
 such panic that I had the utmost difficulty in controlling 
 myself. I thought to wake and tell my wife; I thought 
 to leave the house and take cover with one of the neigh- 
 bours; and there is no doubt but that I would have done 
 so, except that to do so would have been to yield to fear 
 of that which seemed to stand in the room with me. 
 Simple opposition to that intangible presentiment caused 
 me to control myself in its presence, and without change 
 of intention to turn in to my bed, where for a long time 
 I lay wakeful and wondering. 
 
 Not much more than two hours later we were wakened 
 by the heavy tramp of many feet running down the 
 bohereen in time together, and the sound of men scatter- 
 ing and running around the house. We leapt out of 
 bed, and, peering through the curtains, we saw two 
 constables at each window, with carbines held apprehen- 
 sively at the ready. 
 
 A man who was down at the foreshore at dawn, with 
 
 152
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 my house between him and the village, afterwards 
 described the scene for me. The whole force of eighteen 
 constables, three sergeants and a district, inspector had 
 arrived by motor and on bicycles. At the top of the 
 bohereen, not a hundred yards away, they had been 
 assembled in martial array, and at the given word had 
 charged down at the double on a house in which one 
 man, one woman, eight hens, and fifteen chickens lay 
 fast asleep. It must have been a thrilling sight to see. 
 
 Loud knocking sounded on the door, and I went to 
 the porch to parley with the district inspector, in order 
 that he might give my wife time to dress. But while I 
 spoke with him the attack began. Some heavy balks 
 of timber (flotsam, rescued from the sea) lay about the 
 house, and using these as battering-rams the police 
 charged the front door, which they soon splintered. 
 They then burst into the house, seized hold of me, and 
 rushed in on my wife while she was dressing. Nothing 
 escaped them. They spat about the house as about a tap- 
 room; and then began to tie all my papers, including 
 literary MSS. and historical notes representing many 
 years of study, into parcels. Only with the greatest diffi- 
 culty did I rescue from them a parcel of unused manu- 
 script paper, which they had triumphantly parcelled with 
 the rest. 
 
 Then I was taken out into the hurricane of wind and 
 cold, miserable rain of that dawn of day. A constable 
 sat each side of me and one in front, with the district 
 inspector and the driver, each with a carbine held grimly 
 between his knees. I was to be taken to Castlebar Gaol, 
 I was told, while we sped down through the sleeping 
 
 *53
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 villages, and the rain, driven upon a south- western wind, 
 lashed our faces and cried wailing about the car. It was 
 a miserable journey to a miserable tune, with a miserable 
 end in view. Yet before it started an incident had 
 occurred that had furnished a glow and touch of warmth 
 pleasant to reflect upon. It was an incident that could 
 not in any circumstances (much less in those circum- 
 stances) have happened outside of Ireland. 
 
 Just as I had been put into the motor, while all the 
 police stood by their bicycles, Sergeant Donovan, of the 
 neighbouring station of Mallaranny, had stepped forward 
 with his hand outstretched : " I am sorry to be taking 
 part in this day's work, sir," he said. " I never heard 
 the neighbours speak but good of you. You were always 
 a good neighbour with the poor people, and there's no 
 harm attached to a man diat's that way. But these are 
 queer times. I hope you may return soon to us the way 
 we always knew you." "That's right, Donovan," said 
 his district inspector; " but now we must be going." 
 
 §4 
 I had felt miserable enough, yet, all things considered, 
 I had been strangely unperturbed and calm. Perhaps die 
 swiftness of events had, to some extent, benumbed me. 
 Pardy, it was due to the fact that I was in face of my 
 captors, before whom no one could permit a tremor to 
 be shown, or for that matter to be felt, lest it should 
 appear. But when the motor drove within the prison 
 gates, a chill fear crept over me, and hardly could it be 
 controlled. 
 
 *54
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 However, it was not till all my things had been taken 
 from me, and I had been placed in a reception-cell, that 
 that fear rose like a spectre. A reception-cell is usually 
 about two-thirds the size of an ordinary cell, with only a 
 very small window high in the wall, and very dark. Its 
 only furniture is a little stool. When the door clanged 
 behind me, and I heard the key grating in the lock, I 
 glanced quickly round the little space that held me, and 
 a sensation as of suffocation came over me. I was almost 
 overpowered by the desire to shout aloud, to throw my- 
 self on die wall and batter on it with my fists. This was 
 followed by the thought of utter helplessness. Tears had 
 need to be controlled. I remember standing in the 
 middle of that little cell and vowing, if ever I came out 
 of it, that I would never permit the caging of birds. 1 
 Not that I had ever desired to cage a bird, but now that 
 the terror of confinement became a distinct and poignant 
 reality, it expressed itself in that earnest protest. 
 
 I do not know how long I was in diat little cell. Time 
 ceases to count when emotion is so heavily charged. But 
 after a time I was removed to my allotted cell, not nearly 
 so clean as the other, but (though the difference was really 
 not much) the sensation of having a larger amount of air 
 to breathe and a larger area of floor-space over which to 
 pace, was one of decided relief, in spite of that horrible 
 sound of the clanging of the door and grating of the lock. 
 There for the first time I saw the equipment of a cell. 
 Beside the door a hinged flap served for table, and 
 beneath it stood a deal stool. In the further corner stood 
 
 1 I learned afterwards that this was the first thought of most of 
 those who were locked in a prison-cell for the first time. 
 
 155
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 the bed-board, uplifted against the wall, with blankets 
 draped over it. At its base was coiled the mattress. 
 High in the wall opposite the door was the window, 
 heavily barred, with little panes of dark grated glass. In 
 the right-hand corner stood a zinc basin for washing 
 purposes. The lower part of the walls was painted a 
 dun, indiscriminate brown, and the upper part was white- 
 washed. In the middle of the right-hand wall hung a 
 copy of the prison rules and regulations pasted on card- 
 board. 
 
 A cheerless morning, a cheerless experience, a cheer- 
 less abode. Even grimness, that faithful consolation in 
 adversity, was hard to summon. I sat on my little stool 
 to take stock of the occasion; and then resolved to take 
 refuge in sleep. I put down my bed-board, and stretched 
 my mattress and myself upon it. It was not to be so. 
 The door had a little spy-hole, through which the warder 
 on his rounds peered on his prisoners lest they might 
 escape him. I heard the flap of the spy-hole move, and 
 instantly the key grated in the lock and the door was 
 flung open. The warder was a dark-visaged man, with 
 a harsh northern accent. He shouted when he spoke as 
 though he addressed a herd of cattle. He had got that 
 habit from marshalling men over whom he had un- 
 limited power. He shouted now. The whole prison re- 
 sounded with his voice, the passages outside echoing with 
 his threats and abuse. He would, he said, soon lick me 
 into shape, grand and all though I thought I was. No 
 bed-board was to remain down after six in the morn- 
 ing, or to be put down again until after eight at night. 
 I was to put my bed-board as I had found it; and if ever 
 
 156
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 I was found interfering with it again, I would soon find 
 how it was to do without one at all. 
 
 He left me feeling as though I had been flung into a 
 cesspool. Yet his visit was salutary. It whipped one out 
 of one's misery. It gave one something to fight for. I 
 turned to the rules and regulations displayed on the wall, 
 and read them carefully and completely. They were set 
 forth in sections, according to different categories of 
 prisoners. One of the sections related to " Prisoners 
 Awaiting Trial," and this I mastered in all its details. 
 Later in the morning the Acting Governor (he had been 
 chief warder, and still wore that uniform, though these, 
 then, to me were distinctions without meaning) came to 
 see me, to give me general and particular instructions. 
 By that time I was a master of the rules and regulations; 
 and I interrogated him on their application to myself. It 
 required some address at first to get him to converse, for 
 he was prepared harshly and instantly to strike down any 
 attempt at conversation. It was necessary, at first, 
 casually and quietly to ask him for an interpretation of 
 the rules; and then, when once the net of discussion was 
 cast, it was not so difficult to hold him in its toils. 
 
 Whatever was there in the rules to be claimed, I 
 claimed. I claimed the right to books, to tobacco, to 
 daily newspapers, to daily letters in and out, to daily 
 visitors, to my own meals ordered from the town, and to 
 getting another prisoner, if I so wished it, to clean out 
 my cell each day — nothing was omitted. At first he 
 sought to put me by. But he could not deny that I was 
 at least a "Prisoner Awaiting Trial"; and these were, 
 his own rules declared, the rights accorded to that type 
 
 157
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 of prisoner. There they were in print : his responsibility 
 and my right. He looked at that troublesome document 
 with rising exasperation. Then he exploded. 
 
 " You forget," he said, " these aren't ordinary times. 
 You are under martial law now. The soldiers are the 
 masters of us all now, so they are. I amn't very sure that 
 I know where I am myself, rules don't apply now. 
 Nothing applies. Don't I get my instructions from day 
 to day only? They might take you out to-morrow and 
 shoot you, so they might, and nobody to save you, and 
 nobody to say a word again them. Isn't the whole of the 
 city of Dublin in ruins? I cannot give you but what I'm 
 bid; and those rules don't relate to you — they don't relate 
 to anybody — there aren't such thing as rules." 
 
 So I fell back on my prepared second line. If there 
 were no such things as rules, then I might be permitted 
 to keep my bed-board down, as a more comfortable place 
 for reading than the stool. He accepted the concession. 
 He also allowed me the book I had brought in my 
 bag with me — it was, oddly enough, Dostoevski's The 
 Possessed; and he permitted me to write one letter each 
 day, on a sheet provided for that purpose, subject to his 
 censorship; and to send out for my meals if I wished it. 
 I did wish this last particularly; and chose one whom I 
 knew in the town, through whom I hoped to smuggle 
 out letters. 
 
 The astonishment of my warder at my right to keep 
 down my bed-board gave me singular pleasure. He was 
 a baffled man, and thenceforth he merely grumbled at 
 me instead of shouting at me. As for the Acting 
 Governor, I afterwards became quite friendly with him, 
 
 i 5 8
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 and he showed me as much kindliness as was possible in 
 the circumstances. He did tliis in a strange way. He 
 would enter my cell and shout at me as harshly as at 
 any; and then he would close the door, sit on my stool, 
 and in a quiet friendly manner discuss the situation in 
 the country. My name was known to him, and it 
 appeared he had little love for his military superiors; so 
 that we spoke as Irishmen together. I remember him 
 one morning bringing me the daily newspapers contain- 
 ing John Dillon's speech in the House of Commons 
 denouncing the executions and imprisonments. He was 
 glad, he said, that at least one man there had spoken out; 
 and he insisted on reading to me those parts of the speech 
 that pleased him most. 
 
 §5 
 
 Meals and exercise were the only alleviations of our 
 silent monotony and misery. The meals were brought 
 round by two prisoner-orderlies, both of them Gaelic 
 League organizers whom I knew. Of one of them, 
 when he brought me in my first meal, I in my ignorance 
 asked for a knife and fork. He, in his week-old experi- 
 ence of gaols, slipped quickly out into the passage to 
 control his amusement, and left me to the astonishment 
 of the warder, who asked me if I knew where I was. So 
 I was left to juggle with an old horn spoon; and that 
 spoon I have yet, having succeeded in carrying it from 
 place to place hidden about my person as a memento. 
 
 Twice a day we were taken out to exercise in the 
 prison-yard. The yard was strewn with flints, and 
 
 159
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 surrounded by walls some twenty feet high. Near the 
 walls the flints were trodden into a path, marked on 
 the ground in a large oval, by many miserable feet. The 
 first morning I saw that yard there were already some 
 seven or eight men marching around in silence at equal 
 distances apart. Afterwards I learned that, the previous 
 day, some twenty or thirty prisoners had been sent on to 
 Dublin, and that the police had been watching me in 
 Achill, waiting for word that there was accommodation 
 to house me. Those whom I saw had been left. The 
 two Gaelic League organizers were there; there was an 
 Excise Officer whom I knew, whose gait showed that he 
 had not yet got over his fury; and others in the county, 
 taken the police only knew for what reasons. One of 
 the Gaelic League organizers, when he saw me, lifted his 
 hand in a Connacht salute and shouted a greeting in 
 Irish — and at once a bellow came from the warder for 
 silence. 
 
 The following day an elderly man, with a grey beard 
 and erect magisterial manner, made his appearance. 
 Who he was, I do not know, for he never appeared again. 
 The next day, among others, came the editor (and pro- 
 prietor) of the Mayo News, who walked sedately round 
 the yard in his black tail-coat and felt hat as though he 
 were taking his customary constitutional at evening on 
 the Mall at Westport. The same day, for the first time, 
 appeared two men in blue prison clothes, one a particu- 
 larly fine-looking man, who bore himself proudly. One 
 of the Gaelic League organizers whispered to me, while 
 bringing me my dinner that day, that these were soldiers 
 (a sergeant and a corporal) from Irish regiments who had 
 
 1 60
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 expressed themselves too forcibly regarding the executions 
 and arrests. We never saw them again. 
 
 It is strange how quickly prison-craft is acquired. Old 
 criminals, I afterwards learned, develop it to such an 
 extent that their communications with one another, in 
 the friendships they establish, become almost as complete 
 as in ordinary life, despite the close scrutiny under which 
 they are kept at all times — with this difference, that they 
 cultivate friendship and human communication as a 
 crime against prison rules. I can well believe it; for 
 here were we, new to the game, and without any experi- 
 enced hand among us, bringing all our wits to work in 
 order to establish that communication between man and 
 man without which life is as unhealthy as a stand- 
 ing pool. Our minds became cunning and crafty; 
 stealth and deceit became the first laws of our waking; 
 the whole being became watchful and alert for oppor- 
 tunities caught swiftly as they passed, while the outward 
 manner preserved a deceptive innocence. 
 
 The result was not conscious, or at least only half 
 conscious; for a new kind of reflex seemed to be 
 developed. As we walked round the yard we timed our 
 journey with the warder, who walked up and down a 
 small path by the prison door. While he walked away 
 from us towards the door, we had arrived at the far end 
 of the yard. Thus his back was turned just as we reached 
 the most favourable part of our circle, and by that time 
 the distances between us had been reduced as though quite 
 naturally. Ordinarily, the manoeuvre would have been 
 difficult to execute, yet it was managed quite simply, and, 
 as it were, naturally. Then a swift conversation would 
 
 161 M
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 proceed, in voices pitched just to reach the man before 
 or the man behind, and without any perceptible move- 
 ment of the lips. By the time the warder had turned, we 
 were finishing the bend with lengthening distances be- 
 tween us, erect, and with calm faces forward. 
 
 This play of wit, at all times, became no small part of 
 our daily lives; and the penalties involved gave spice to 
 existence. Thus we came to know who we were, where 
 we had been taken, and we planned codes for com- 
 munication from cell to cell. Indeed, by the end of my 
 first day I had a fairly exact knowledge of my fellow- 
 prisoners, and of those who had been there before me. 
 
 In this we were assisted by one of the warders. He 
 came on duty on my second day, and directly I heard his 
 voice I scanned his face quickly for signs of friendship. 
 He spoke with a southern accent, and muffled beneath 
 his official brevity a human quality sounded. He, too, 
 wore an official mask on his face; but its expression was 
 not sour but sad. I therefore tried a venture with him. 
 Quietly and without emphasis I said to him : " 'Tis queer 
 criminals you have these times, warder." He looked 
 quickly at me. Then he went to the door, looked up 
 and down the passage, and returned to me. " Faith, 
 you're right, sir," he said. " 'Tis a queer sort of criminals 
 these times." 
 
 It would be hard to express all he managed to convey 
 in those few words. That night he was on duty, and he 
 came into my cell to ask me if there was anything further 
 I wanted. I replied that there was not. Then he put his 
 hand in his pocket and thrust something into my hand, 
 saying, " That'll do you no harm." It was a noggin- 
 
 162
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 bottle of whisky; but before I could thank him he was 
 gone, and the key was grating in the lock. 
 
 §6 
 
 Let no one ever speak to me again of prisons as re- 
 formatories of character. They are infernal contrivances 
 for destruction of character. The prison system is one of 
 a perfect inhumanity; and as I sat in my cell the first 
 night, waiting for darkness to come, I felt that system 
 closing upon me. The blank, bare walls, the high, dark 
 window, the deathly silence, broken only by the shuffle 
 outside of the warder as he went his rounds, the jingle 
 of the keys by his side, and the movement of the cover 
 of the spy-hole as he slid it aside to look in on me — all 
 these things were unholy. Add to them the instant re- 
 pression of every sign of humanity, in prisoner or in 
 warder, and of every attempt to open communication 
 with either, and the effect is to produce a mental blank 
 and a complete absence of anything of the rhythm and 
 colour of life. One never sees flowers in prison (save 
 for one exception I was afterwards to meet, an exception 
 rooted in literary history) and prison-yards are floored, 
 without exception, with shards of flint, or with some- 
 thing like coal-slack, or something very like ashes. 
 Colours never are allowed — I remember with what joy 
 I later feasted my eyes on a blanket provided for me, 
 crimson and yellow and claret, a wonderful vision of 
 beauty and joy. Everything is toneless, featureless, 
 colourless, expressionless, noiseless (but for the bark of 
 a warder), void, and inhuman. 
 
 163
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 In the twilight that thickened in my cell, I felt these 
 deathly influences closing on me. They advanced to- 
 wards me with intent to blot out the thing that was I, 
 the personality that was my being, without which I was 
 not. And I was afraid, afraid as of some last obscenity. 
 Life is meaningless unless it exist for the production and 
 perfection of personality, and personality is meaningless 
 unless it mean the utmost differentiation of mind, the 
 utmost liberty of thought and action, the utmost stretch 
 of desire and will, without regard for interdictions and 
 frustrations, as the only conceivable basis for fearless 
 exchanges in the commerce of mortality. But the system 
 into which I was introduced had engaged itself to blot 
 all these things, and to treat human revolt as crime. The 
 prison system protects itself by a number of elaborate 
 contrivances against suicide: the refusal of knife and 
 fork, by which life might be bled to death, the mattings 
 between the landings lest life cast itself to an end, the 
 absence of all brackets and projections in cells, from 
 which men might die by hanging. But suicide is indeed 
 the logical perfection of the system. When personality 
 has been so far repressed that it can make no demonstra- 
 tion of its existence by voice or signal; when personality 
 looks on faces as expressionless as the whitewashed wall 
 and flint-strewn yard; when the mind at last echoes the 
 blankness it meets with a blankless as complete, and 
 the outer world becomes forgotten, literally forgotten : 
 what is the difference between this and the final quench- 
 ing of the spark of life in a body whose only value is that 
 a soul inhabits it? 
 
 Thought? I had sometimes in my folly imagined that 
 
 164
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 in the silence of a gaol one could give oneself to thought. 
 That night my instinct informed me surely that in gaol 
 thought would become sluggish and finally disappear, 
 until the mere effort to recall faces and names of friends 
 would be relinquished as too fatiguing. I divined this 
 that night. Later I was to prove it. And I was afraid. 
 Some of the others told me that they wept every night; 
 and I understood them perfectly. But that night I slept 
 in my clothes, as a sign to myself that, even though I 
 suffered, I would fight the system with all my power lest 
 it overcame me. Afterwards I was glad of that resolve, 
 a resolve that I kept ever before me. 
 
 §7 
 
 The only communication I was allowed was the letter 
 I had been promised each day. A few days afterwards 
 the Acting Governor came to inform me that he had 
 received instructions from the military authorities that I 
 was not to be permitted any sort of communication with 
 the outer world, by letter or by visit. I had written to 
 my wife saying that my daily letters would be a sign to 
 her that I was safe and well. I wish no man the hours 
 I spent that night. 
 
 I thought at once of my original plan to communicate 
 with her through the agency of the person who sent my 
 meals each day, and I succeeded in passing a letter out 
 folded in some unused bread. My hope was that he 
 would expect some such attempt, and would search the 
 utensils I returned. I was right. The letter reached its 
 
 165
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 destination, but it happened that the interval in my letters 
 had turned to good account. 
 
 One morning, when I wakened at the usual hour of 
 5.45, I was informed that I was to be ready for removal 
 in an hour's time. No information was available where 
 I was going, save that in an hour's time a guard of 
 soldiers would come for me. No doubt, said the Acting 
 Governor reassuringly, I was to be taken for the courts- 
 martial in Dublin. That, at such a time of terror, meant 
 anything or everything; and the news was not pleasant 
 to hear. 
 
 The editor of the Mayo News and I were the only two 
 to be removed, and we were marched through the town 
 of Castlebar, under a corporal's guard of eight soldiers, 
 before its people were awake. Yet the news of our going 
 spread, and a muster gathered about us at the station, 
 and a few timorous cheers were raised. I stood talking 
 with the corporal while this occurred. He told his men 
 to keep a close guard about us, but he refused to permit 
 any attempt to quell the demonstration, sharply checking 
 a soldier who made as though to do so. ' It's your own 
 people, sir," he said to me; " and it isn't right for us to 
 be messing about here. It's a rotten job for us, and we 
 oughtn't to make it worse than it is." 
 
 I knew his type, and as I looked at him I felt sure I 
 could put him in his exact place at home in England. 
 He was a tall, strongly built man, sallow of complexion, 
 yet tough and hardy. He had a long head and (that 
 morning at least, but I should think always) a grave, 
 earnest face. He came from the Pottery district, and I 
 judged that he had been employed in some clerical 
 
 166
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 capacity. Afterwards in the train he told me he was 
 fond of books (he was, I remember, startled to find that 
 the author of a certain study of Shakespeare and his 
 prisoner were actually the same person), and that fact 
 did not surprise me, for I had already placed him in such 
 a company, and I felt that I could have told exactly what 
 kind of serious, large, vague-thoughted, ethical book (or, 
 better, work) he was in the habit of studying, and the 
 high-sounding moralities and eternal verities he had been 
 in the habit of discussing with his friends amid the drab 
 sordidness of his surroundings. From them he had been 
 dragged to Ireland; and he was distressed and a little 
 rueful. 
 
 As we spoke the train swung round the bend, and, as 
 it drew into the station, to my astonishment my wife 
 leaned from a window and waved to me. Missing my 
 daily letter she had come to learn what had happened; 
 and had come by the very train by which I was to travel. 
 Instantly I thought how to manage that we should travel 
 together. I looked at my corporal, and put the proposi- 
 tion to him. I had, by this time, placed him, and I 
 thought I knew his type: therefore I put my plea on 
 the highest possible grounds — of humanity and virtue 
 and international concord itself — and he succumbed with 
 hardly a struggle. The plea was too perfectly attuned to 
 the accustomed atmosphere of many Pleasant Sunday 
 Afternoons for his new habit of military discipline to be 
 proof against it. So my wife travelled with us to 
 Dublin. 
 
 At Athlone and at Mullingar crowds surrounded our 
 carriage and swarmed into the compartments each side 
 
 167
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 of us, and our corporal was very unhappy. He expressed 
 himself freely about the position in which he found him- 
 self; without indignation, without criticism of those in 
 authority above him, yet as one who wished to make it 
 quite clear that their principles of behaviour did not meet 
 with his approval. He had enlisled, he said, to fight for 
 a small nation in Belgium, not to fight againsl: another in 
 Ireland. He spoke as though a grave problem had been 
 placed before him for decision, a decision, however, that 
 did not involve any necessity for action or criticism of his 
 superiors. 
 
 §8 
 
 In Dublin we were taken to Richmond Barracks, a 
 place of mark and fame for the years that were to follow. 
 It was the clearing-house for rebels. From all gaols and 
 police barracks in Ireland batches of prisoners were 
 brought to Richmond before passing to execution, penal 
 servitude, or internment. It was more. It was the uni- 
 versity in which the doctrines, methods, and hopes of 
 the men of Easter Week were folded into the life of men 
 from every part of Ireland. Extraordinary to think with 
 what care men were brought from all over the country 
 (many of whom began by disagreeing earnestly with the 
 Rising) to receive one pattern of thought and to know 
 one another and to learn of one another. Yet this was, 
 in fad, what happened. Nearly every man who took 
 any kind of part in the events of the years to follow 
 passed through Richmond Barracks, and there for the 
 first time many of them met, leaders and followers 
 
 168
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 together. The exceptions could be numbered on the 
 fingers of two hands. 
 
 There we were herded, thirty in each room, on the 
 second and third stories. Troops occupied the ground- 
 floor, guards were posted at the doors and on all land- 
 ings, and the whole buildings were enclosed with barbed 
 wire barricades, guarded again by soldiers. On entering 
 we were each given a single blanket, and slept on the 
 floor. The nights were so bitterly cold that we slept in 
 twos together for warmth, one blanket beneath and one 
 above. The floor was also our board, for at that time the 
 rooms held no furniture, and we sat on the floor to eat, 
 with our fingers for service, the bully-beef and hard 
 biscuits served out to us. Afterwards, shortly before I 
 left there, benches and tables, knives and forks, and extra 
 blankets were provided for us; and as they came, they 
 were received, not in meek gratitude, but with ribaldry 
 and laughter. 
 
 Nothing, I think, more surprised our guards than the 
 unfailing hilarity of our company. In every room it was 
 the same, and when we met in the drill-yards it was the 
 same. That was the oddest experience of all. Men had 
 been arrested for drilling, yet at Richmond Barracks we 
 were led out, in companies of fifty and sixty at a time, 
 and drilled under some of the best instructors in the 
 world. Men were drilled there who had never drilled 
 before in their lives, and had even, a year before, mocked 
 at the manoeuvres of Volunteers. Many of them after- 
 wards remembered their tuition, as they remembered the 
 company in which that tuition had been received. 
 
 Indeed, there was some cause for surprise at our 
 
 169
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 hilarity, though we ourselves at the time did not note it. 
 In one of the buildings, within sight of our windows, 
 courts-martial were sitting daily, and daily men were 
 being taken from those rooms to receive long sentences of 
 penal servitude; and weekly batches were taken for deten- 
 tion in British gaols. The executions were over by the 
 time I reached Dublin. The grim and bitter mood they 
 had created in the country had slopped diem — it was the 
 same mood that ultimately lifted us from the unswept 
 floor to benches and tables. Yet it was from these same 
 rooms men had gone to meet the shooting-file at dawn. 
 From the room above mine Sean MacDiarmada had 
 gone to his death as knightly as he had lived his life. 
 From the same room as mine Eamon de Valera had gone 
 to penal servitude for life. And the process continued 
 without intermission, until the mere weight of numbers, 
 swept there from the country by a net of so fine a mesh, 
 caused it to break down utterly. Then the rest were sent 
 to ordinary detention as the simplest method of making 
 an end of what had begun to wear the appearance of an 
 unending procession. Yet, while I was at Richmond 
 Barracks it continued, though none would have guessed 
 at it who saw only the hilarity that was, in fact, our 
 best: protection. 
 
 I myself quickly encountered it. On our entry the 
 two of us were greeted heartily, as though to an enter- 
 tainment. We would not be permitted to give an account 
 of our adventures until we had eaten; and then our first 
 thought was to hear, rather than to be heard. For the first 
 time we came into touch with those who had taken their 
 part in the Rising. Three were wounded, and lay on the 
 
 170
 
 MY FIRST ARREST 
 
 floor covered by blankets when we entered. The majority 
 had fought through the week. He would be a man of 
 little emotion, indeed, who did not feel as I did at that 
 moment, with a touch of awe and respect kindling in his 
 blood. 
 
 171
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, 1917-1918 
 
 §1 
 
 INN FEIN, as a political party, was now constituted, 
 'and the great October Convention of 191 7 had 
 adopted for it a scheme of organization substantially as 
 laid before it by Eamon de Valera, the new President. 
 It is interesting to notice that in this scheme of organiza- 
 tion was a section dealing with the institution of the 
 Constituent Assembly of the future, to which the name 
 was first given which it was afterwards to bear — Dail 
 Eireann : The Assembly of Ireland. 
 
 During the course of the Convention I had criticized 
 certain parts of this scheme of organization; but now it 
 fell to me, in the office to which I had been elected, to be 
 the first to create and administer it. For Austin Stack, 
 my colleague in the secretaryship, was in gaol, and the 
 task, committed to us jointly, had, of necessity, to be 
 undertaken by the only one of the two at liberty. As I 
 remember, Austin Stack did not come out of gaol for 
 another month or six weeks, and it was necessary by that 
 time to have the scheme in working. 
 
 The form of organization that had been adopted is 
 worth brief review, for it embraced the entire country, 
 and entered as nearly, as any political organization may, 
 into the communal life of the people. Rightly to see this, 
 a larger review becomes necessary. 
 
 172
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, IQI7-I918 
 
 For the scheme of local government adopted by 
 England for Ireland has never expressed in any real — 
 economic or social — sense the life of the Irish people. 
 It was taken over from England, where it was the result 
 of historical origins, and put down in Ireland like a 
 Procrustean bed into which the people's life had to be 
 crushed. But, to change the figure, in Ireland it was 
 not the fruit of a tree the roots of which were embedded 
 in, drawing strength from, the soil of history. Rather it 
 was an attempt (conscious at first, back in the centuries, 
 and unconscious afterwards) to deny that history, to cancel 
 and forget it. For until the seventeenth century Ireland 
 had had her own form of political governance, strong in 
 its local life till the end, but at one time with that local 
 life gathered and comprised in a national system; and it 
 was this form that the policy of Plantations had succeeded 
 in uprooting and destroying in that century of violence. 
 
 Not completely, however. It had been preserved in 
 the form of organization of the Catholic Church, For 
 St. Patrick, as great a statesman as a churchman, had 
 modelled his church organization on the political — the 
 social and economic — organization of the country, so that 
 one fitted precisely with the other, each expressing 
 different parts of the people's life in an identical pattern. 
 Therefore, though the form of political governance was 
 destroyed, its pattern was preserved — in spite of all 
 changes and vicissitudes very remarkably preserved — in 
 the organization of the Church by half-parishes, parishes, 
 and bishoprics. 
 
 It was by this pattern that Sinn Fein was now 
 organized. The larger (what I may call the bishopric) 
 
 173
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 units were changed, so as to bring the organization to a 
 head in the political constituencies, by which necessity 
 required that it should operate, and which it was devised 
 to influence. But it rested on, being constituted of, the 
 smaller units. One Sinn Fein club (or cumainn) was 
 allowed for each half-parish area, known generally as 
 the chapel area. That is not to say that each chapel area 
 in Ireland had its separate cumainn. Sometimes there 
 was but one cumainn for an entire parish; and to the last., 
 when in 192 1 under the rule of the Black-and-Tans the 
 organization broke down, there were parts of the country 
 where several parishes united to form one cumainn. But 
 the chapel area formed the unit, and not more than one 
 cumainn was allowed in such an area. In the larger towns 
 and cities, where a newer form of life had come into exist- 
 ence, a different system was adopted, the ward being 
 taken there as the unit. 
 
 The result is obvious and plain to see. When we, as 
 secretaries, had to administer a decision of the Executive 
 Committee, we knew that our directions began to operate 
 either within an affected district, or within a part of, or 
 throughout the entire, country, from the following Sun- 
 day. For then the members of each cumainn met at 
 worship, and they met with all the people of that area, 
 to whom that decision could be communicated if it were 
 — as many of the decisions at that time were — of a sort 
 that called for concerted action. And, beginning then 
 to operate, it operated within a life that had a certain 
 social and economic cohesion, gaining from that circum- 
 stance a vigour and uniformity that were of the greatest 
 value. 
 
 174
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 When the opposition against which we had to con- 
 tend is remembered, the importance of this cannot be 
 exaggerated. For after the October Convention the arm 
 of Dublin Castle was Stretched against Sinn Fein every- 
 where. Arrests and proclamations and restless police 
 activity attempted to slop the increase of the organization. 
 But these things were exerted from outside on the life of 
 the people, whereas we were working from within through 
 the life of the people; and the very oppugnancy of method 
 gave Sinn Fein the strength of inwardness and subdety, 
 and increased that strength the more Sinn Fein was 
 opposed. 
 
 §2 
 
 When once this organization had been created, pruned, 
 and made flexible and efficient, the Executive Committee 
 elected by the October Convention became in effect en- 
 dowed with the powers of a government. That is im- 
 portant to note; for now, for the first time, a conscious 
 effort is seen at work to undiread the web of British 
 Government in Ireland and to replace that web by 
 another woven at home. This policy did not achieve 
 (and under the circumstances could not have achieved) 
 its perfect expression until, after 1918, there was an 
 elected assembly to appoint a government; but now the 
 political party of Sinn Fein is seen to shape itself toward 
 that national non-party ideal. And the measured success 
 of the policy depended partly on the composite character 
 of the party, pardy on the stirring chance of the times, 
 when danger compelled the suppression of disagreement, 
 and partly on the efficiency of the organization. 
 
 175
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 It was as a consequence of this policy that the new 
 Committee was organized as it was. For the leading 
 members of it had what in State affairs would be called 
 Portfolios divided among them. Cathal Brugha, for 
 example, took industries and commerce, Frank Lawless 
 took agriculture, and so on. The intention in this was 
 excellent, but it inevitably fell into failure, for it extended 
 beyond the time and powers available. Each of these 
 two men, for instance, was too busy with his own occupa- 
 tion to attend to the work assigned to him; and their 
 work, therefore, devolved on the secretaries so far as it 
 was possible of accomplishment. It was not work, how- 
 ever, that in the nature of things could be accomplished 
 with any success by a political party; and a political party, 
 especially a new party, could not afford to undertake 
 work at which it could not succeed. 
 
 One department, it is true, was a success. For at that 
 time, it will be remembered, German submarines were 
 busy making a network beneath the seas for the snaring 
 of ships, and had succeeded in raising the peril of a 
 shortage of food in England. A Food Controller had 
 therefore been appointed there, and as Ireland has for 
 many years been the chief supplier of foodstuffs to 
 England, the British administration in Ireland was 
 naturally used to cause those supplies to be increased. 
 The consequence was that the same peril seemed likely 
 to be raised in Ireland, a food-producing country, as 
 already had been raised in England, a manufacturing 
 country. 
 
 The fear was genuine, and was widely held. It also 
 created an opportunity of crossing swords with the British 
 
 176
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 Government on the splendid ground of defending our 
 own people. The policy of politics and the policy of 
 creating a Home Government were, accordingly, most 
 happily matched when Diarmuid Lynch was appointed 
 Food Controller of the Sinn Fein Committee. His con- 
 duct: of that Department was bold and vigorous, and led 
 to an incident that aroused almost worldwide interest. 
 
 First of all a meeting was convened in the Mansion 
 House to call attention to the peril. Then the country 
 was circularized with a view to making a food census; 
 and the farmers helped us so well that we found that we 
 had not the statistical start to tabulate the material we 
 had received. Finally, it was decided to take action. 
 So, on the evening of the 22nd of February, 191 8, 
 Diarmuid Lynch and a picked gang waylaid a drove of 
 pigs being driven to the quays, seized them, killed them 
 then and there under experienced supervision, and sold 
 them to an Irish manufacturer for consumption in Ireland. 
 
 The noise this exploit made was astonishing. It put 
 the European War in the shade, for both English and 
 Irish newspapers made it the event of the hour. In 
 Ireland the effect was permanent. For the event indi- 
 cated at once a care for the home people and a deliberate, 
 calculated defiance of British administration. So strong 
 was the feeling in the country that, under this Depart- 
 ment, local Sinn Fein markets were created for the sale 
 of Irish foodstuffs to the poor at reasonable prices, and 
 farmers sent dieir goods to these markets, protesting that 
 they were Irishmen first and traders afterwards. 
 
 The success of this Department covered the inevitable 
 failure of the others. For, after all, the chief task before 
 
 177 N
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Sinn Fein was political, and not until that task had fairly 
 been accomplished could a National Government come 
 into existence to which such functions could be assigned. 
 
 Indeed, there was no time for other work. I doubt if 
 a political campaign of such energy and fury has ever 
 been seen in any country. At the time it was often 
 spoken of as "the whirlwind campaign"; and the title 
 was just, save that it is not often that whirlwinds last so 
 long. Every week-end was given up to meetings, and a 
 special sub-committee sat to control these as various 
 centres called for them. Some twenty or thirty meet- 
 ings would be held each Saturday and Sunday. To 
 these must be added special meetings held on all holidays 
 of obligation and during the course of the week. And 
 this was continued week after week, and month after 
 month; and few of us knew what it was to enjoy a night 
 of leisure. 
 
 In the midst of this whirlwind that raged in every 
 county, and called on us all to spend much of our 
 time travelling, the conduct:, creation, and administration 
 of the organization had to be continued. And it is time 
 to state clearly what this meant. For at the time it was 
 freely asserted by our political opponents that, however 
 our activity might wear the fashion of service, the service 
 was profitable enough, for Sinn Fein was a large and, 
 therefore, a wealthy party. Such stones, to be sure, are 
 always flung in the like circumstances, and we made 
 neither complaint nor answer. Yet (if it be to the credit 
 of that service) let it now be asserted that all the work, 
 save that of the permanent start, was given freely. Busi- 
 ness men travelled every week-end, and travelled all 
 
 178
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 Sunday night, after a heavy day of meetings, for the 
 new week's work on Monday morning, and did that week 
 after week for months, freely in the service of their country. 
 However, I am telling the history of these times as 
 they gathered about the experience of an individual — 
 looking at events framed through the windows of an 
 actual house. Let me, then, relate my own experience 
 in this matter, for it proved that there were others like 
 it. The Secretaryship to which my colleague and I had 
 been elected was an honorary post, as were all positions 
 on the Officer Board. The scheme of organization 
 strictly prohibited payment for such services. As certain 
 of us, from de Valera down, were toiling day and night 
 at the work entrusted to us, the consequence can be 
 imagined. For myself, for three months my wife and 
 I lived on a present of potatoes a friend had opportunely 
 sent from the country. It was Arthur Griffith, whose 
 experienced eye (had he not lived thus for many a year 
 in the nation's service?) saw what was happening to 
 those on whom the burden of the work naturally fell, 
 who caused the creation of a special Sustentation Fund, 
 raised outside the funds of the organization, to allay 
 anxiety by meeting the mere requirements of livelihood, 
 in order that the work might continue. And it was in 
 this spirit that the war was fought. 
 
 §3 
 
 That war, now, turned to fierceness. The October 
 Convention not having split the new movement, Dublin 
 Castle recognized that it had mis-stepped in permitting 
 
 179
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 it to have been held. Therefore, in an endeavour to 
 recover lost, ground, a heavy assault was opened on every 
 side and an extraordinary battle of wits was begun. It 
 was a case of interdictions and force on one side, and 
 wit at full race on the other; and as wit nearly always 
 won, force was damaged severely in that dignity without 
 which it is merely massive and ridiculous. 
 
 Indeed, Dublin Castle acted promptly enough. De 
 Valera, as the new President, was announced to speak at 
 Newbridge, beside the Curragh Camp, on the 4th of 
 November. The meeting was proclaimed and strong 
 forces were moved into the town to make the proclama- 
 tion good. On our side nothing was said, but messengers 
 were at once sent down to the county to alter the 
 arrangements. On the appointed day the meeting was 
 held in the neighbouring town of Athy, where nothing 
 had been proclaimed, before the same audience. And 
 Ireland laughed. 
 
 Learning from that error, future proclamations ex- 
 tended to a whole area, sometimes to an entire county. 
 Then the sight was seen of a number of decoy meetings, 
 which distracted the police and broke their numbers, 
 while the real meeting was held without interruption 
 in a quiet field or by quiet cross-roads. For it was then 
 that Ireland put to use those secrets which a county keeps 
 that were afterwards to prove so valuable. Though every 
 one knew where the real meeting was to be held, the 
 police never discovered; and the whole countryside, 
 opponents and supporters alike, joined in the fun, while 
 Ireland laughed. 
 
 The fun, however, was dangerous enough, for it was 
 
 180
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 conducted during the early weeks of this new campaign 
 under the shadow of tragedy. In the middle of Sep- 
 tember Sinn Fein prisoners in Mount joy Gaol had gone 
 on hunger-strike to recover the recognition as prisoners 
 of war which, accorded earlier, had now, in the shifting 
 and changings of policy, been denied. Forcible feeding 
 had followed. As a result, Tom Ashe had died. His 
 death had created an extraordinary shock, so horrible was 
 the thought of a man being forcibly held in a chair and 
 done, as it happened, to death. Deputations to his 
 funeral came from every part of Ireland, and in many 
 of the leading towns simultaneous funeral processions 
 were held. And thus, by so calamitous a price, the 
 object: of the hunger-strike was gained by the mediation 
 of the Lord Mayor of Dublin, and written into a compact. 
 But when the new campaign was opened the compact 
 was thrown aside, with the result that the prisoners (re- 
 moved now to Dundalk Gaol) had promptly gone on 
 hunger-strike again. 
 
 During these weeks it looked as if the new strike 
 (which was afterwards compromised on each side) must 
 end in death, for Dublin Castle had declared that its 
 resolve had been taken, and there lay the tragedy with 
 which our comedy of wits was loaded. Ireland might 
 laugh to see authority baffled, but those who were arrested 
 went to join their comrades in gaol, and there, without 
 further question, they went on hunger-strike too. Yet 
 week by week men were arrested, and week by week 
 men went to the meetings to which they were sent; and 
 I do not remember a single meeting advertised to be held 
 that failed to be held. 
 
 181
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 The procedure adopted in these arrests added to the 
 danger. For this was the time of what became known 
 as " Mental Notes." The Defence of the Realm Regula- 
 tions were elastic enough to cover almost any form of 
 words that could be spoken on a platform, but that 
 speakers had grown practised in deft and delicate 
 allusions and audiences had learned to lift a hint as high 
 as a hillside. It went hard with a "peeler," too, who 
 was seen writing in a notebook at a meeting. There- 
 fore the practice grew of writing in the notebook after 
 the meeting — an hour later, maybe a week later, perhaps 
 only when the indictment was drawn on other grounds. 
 These were known as " Mental Notes," openly confessed 
 as such, and accepted as evidence. Many of them were 
 plain fictions, and some were monstrous on the face of 
 them. Tom Ashe, for example, was charged with words 
 which he could not have used. We knew what he did 
 say, and his words expressed the thought of a man of 
 blunt and straightforward vigour. No doubt the Realm 
 would have been deeply aggrieved by them, but the 
 words on which he was charged (going thereby after- 
 wards to his death) were not those. And this method 
 of " Mental Notes " left speakers at the mercy of police- 
 men of luxuriant imagination eager for promotion. 
 What use to practice allusion when invention could 
 supply the official need? 
 
 However, here, too, wit found an escape from the toils 
 that snared even the wary. I remember one speaker who 
 began to speak by saying, with portentous solemnity, that 
 he did not propose to utter a word that would offend the 
 Realm or endanger its security. But, unfortunately, it 
 
 182
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 was not easy to know in what words such offence or 
 danger consisted. The best audiorities, and even police- 
 men in the making of their " Mental Notes," differed 
 widely. He therefore asked the policemen who were 
 present to assist him. If any of them thought him about 
 to say something deserving of a " Mental Note," he 
 would request him at once to blow his whistle; and lest 
 there should be a doubt as to hearing, he would ask all 
 the others to blow their whistles, too. When the whistles 
 sounded he wouid withdraw what he had said, would 
 refrain from what he was about to say, and would turn 
 to other more proper fields. But so long as no whistles 
 were heard he would assume he had the consent of the 
 police in all that he said. 
 
 Having opened thus he broke into the wildest sedi- 
 tion, stopping at frequent intervals to ask if that were a 
 whistle he had heard. The meeting became like one 
 broad smile; and the police, knowing that they were 
 being made fools of, but not knowing how to remedy 
 their folly, disappeared, till there was not one of them 
 left to make a Mental Note. 
 
 §4 
 
 In this way Sinn Fein was strengthened and extended 
 as 1917 closed and 191 8 opened. It worked with the 
 people, and the people worked with it; and there is no 
 doubt that at the end of the latter year it had become the 
 national organization. Cumainn existed in almost every 
 chapel area; and I do not believe there could have been 
 many who had not been present at the hundreds of meet- 
 
 183
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 ings that had been held all over the country, familiar with 
 the personalities of its public figures, conspirators with 
 them while outwitting and defying the proclamations by 
 which its activities were sought to be confined. Although 
 the public representation was still held by the Parlia- 
 mentary Party, Sinn Fein was the real power in Ireland; 
 and it is difficult now to realize that that change had 
 been wrought within the compass of one year. 
 
 Early in the new year an event occurred to prove die 
 reality and quality of that power. Indeed, no harder test 
 could have been put to any political party in Ireland. For 
 it has been the destiny of every Irish political party sooner 
 or later to have become engulfed in, or to have turned for 
 dependence on, agrarian unrest. Elsewhere I have dealt 
 with the causes for this; and it is only necessary now to 
 say that this destiny has its origin in history, and that it 
 is therefore inevitable, and, therefore, beyond complaint. 
 For political independence in Ireland was never over- 
 thrown until in the seventeenth century the land was 
 confiscated and the people uprooted from the ownership 
 of the soil; and consequently the effort to restore the one 
 has always been accomplished by an effort to restore the 
 other, agrarian organizations becoming political, and 
 political organizations becoming agrarian. 
 
 To this general cause a particular must be added. It 
 also has its origin in history. For the greatest economic 
 calamity of the past (which it will take many years and 
 the wisest vision in the Free State to solve) was what is 
 historically known as 'To Hell or Connacht," when 
 Cromwell endeavoured to cram the population of 
 Ireland into the poor lands west of the Shannon in 
 
 184
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 order to distribute the reft of the land among his soldiers. 
 The result can be seen to-day. West, of the Shannon 
 occur what are spoken of as " The Congested Districts," 
 so called because the average holding of land there is in- 
 sufficient to furnish the livelihood of a family. But 
 immediately east of these Congested Districts lies a belt 
 of rich land, for the most part untenanted and given over 
 to the pasture of cattle. Every spring, therefore, as the 
 families lying on the fringe of this belt dig their land for 
 sowing, and survey its insufficiency, anger (truly an 
 historic anger) works like a ferment in their blood, with 
 the result that every spring lands are seized — demesne 
 lands within that territory and ranch-land lying on the 
 border of that territory. It is easy to censure such 
 " agrarian outrages." It is better to understand their 
 causes. For so always will compression, surrounded by 
 a vacuum, bring forth explosions when time and occasion 
 serve. 
 
 In this year, 1918, however, there was much talk of a 
 shortage of food, and violent action, indeed, had just 
 been taken to keep the food grown in Ireland for the 
 Irish people. It did not, therefore, need much vision to 
 prophesy an especially bitter outbreak of agrarian violence. 
 And when it came, Sinn Fein was faced by an ancient, 
 but at the moment particularly inconvenient, peril. For 
 that spring came news from every quarter of the west of 
 seizures of lands, generally in the name of Sinn Fein. 
 Yet if Sinn Fein once slipped into agrarian revolution its 
 national claim for independence would have been lost 
 sight of, its hope for the Peace Conference undone, and 
 its larger plans for the political creation of an independent 
 
 185
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 State through the formation of a Constituent Assembly 
 scattered past recovery. 
 
 I need not go into detail as to the method by which 
 the danger was controlled. Enough to say that orders 
 were issued that no tenanted land, and no untenanted 
 land on which the legislative requirement of 15 per cent, 
 of tillage had been observed, should be seized. If such 
 land had been seized, it was at once to be restored. As to 
 untenanted land, where less than 15 per cent, was under 
 tillage, this could not be seized until the Local Con- 
 stituency Executive of Sinn Fein had given its sanction 
 in each case; and in such cases Sinn Fein endeavoured to 
 arrange fair terms of sale — which, indeed, the people 
 were willing to pay. 
 
 In issuing these decrees, Sinn Fein, it will be seen, was 
 acting as a Government; and in doing so it had the con- 
 sent and support of all classes. There were internal diffi- 
 culties; for many, including two members of the Officer 
 Board, desired that the political work should be accom- 
 panied by agrarian disturbance. Indeed, the Ard-Chom- 
 hairle (the High Council) of Sinn Fein was especially 
 convened to deal with the matter. This Council was 
 comprised of one specially appointed member from each 
 Constituency Executive. It met and discussed, in effect, 
 as a Parliament, and supported the action that had been 
 taken by the Central Executive. The result was that within 
 three weeks order was restored; and that result is remark- 
 able (though none since has referred to it), testifying to the 
 popular strength of the organization, for nothing like it had 
 ever been wrought in Ireland before, where agrarian revolu- 
 tion and politics have gone through history hand in hand. 
 
 186
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 §5 
 
 This result is important to note because of what 
 accompanied it. Sinn Fein depended, as I have said, on 
 popular strength. It is true that the execution of these 
 decisions was assisted by the independent organization of 
 the Volunteers, working side by side with Sinn Fein; but 
 without the prestige of the party, creating popular con- 
 sent, nothing could have been done. Yet during these 
 early months of the year it was claimed that Sinn Fein 
 was already a waning force. 
 
 I have said that Fortune had been kind to Sinn Fein 
 in the matter of by-elections. But Fortune is seldom 
 wholly kind to party or to person. It is trite to say that 
 she is fickle. Rather, she is quaintly impartial, snaring 
 with a smile to deliver a lusty knock. For now two other 
 by-elections came in which Sinn Fein was destined to be 
 worsted — destined, in strict terms, for they occurred in 
 two constituencies of which we had no hope from the 
 outset. 
 
 The first was in South Armagh in the north. There 
 the Ribbonmen of the nineteenth century had been 
 strongest, and of them the Ancient Order of Hibernians 
 (a sectarian organization, whose leader was Joseph Devlin) 
 was the lineal descendant. There, too, were enough 
 Orangemen to ensure the defeat of Sinn Fein if they 
 were required; for the Orangemen hated Sinn Fein, a 
 strictly non-sectarian organization, more than they hated 
 the Hibernians, a strictly sectarian organization. In spite 
 of the propaganda of the time, let me say frankly they 
 
 187
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 were not required; but it was their votes which made the 
 defeat of Sinn Fein as substantial as it was when it was 
 announced on the second day of February. 
 
 Yet during that election an event occurred, very 
 strange, yet very characteristic of the north-east of 
 Ireland. For during the election I, a Protestant, was 
 invited to meet the leaders of the Orangemen at the 
 Armagh City Club. My prompt acceptance of the invita- 
 tion horrified some of my Nationalist colleagues; yet I 
 was hospitably received, was assured that I spoke as an 
 Irishman among Irishmen, and till day dawned we dis- 
 cussed common national affairs with a common under- 
 standing, parting then to fight with a vigour on opposite 
 sides, the greatness of which was only matched by the 
 greatness of the hospitality and comradeship with which 
 I had been received. Little wonder that other peoples 
 cannot understand our national disagreements, seeing 
 they are rooted in an understanding that can be so com- 
 plete. Yet so it is; and of them is the augury of the 
 future. 
 
 The second election was caused by the death of John 
 Redmond, who (it is said, and the tragic story has been 
 adequately told elsewhere by those competent to tell it), 
 deserted by his friends at a critical issue of the " Lloyd 
 George Convention," had left that body on the 15th of 
 January, stricken by illness, to die on the 6th of March. 
 Thus a by-election was caused in Waterford City, and 
 John Redmond's son, Major William Redmond, left his 
 own constituency in East Tyrone to fight the battle of his 
 father's memory. The constituency was bad for us, and 
 the nature of the contest worse. Long consultations we 
 
 188
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 had whether the contest should be accepted, for defeat 
 was only too certain. In the end it was decided that, 
 since to turn away was worse than to be defeated, Sinn 
 Fein should fight every election as it came, win or lose. 
 
 So we fought, and so we lost. We lost also in East 
 Tyrone, where the total Nationalist vote as against the 
 Orange vote balanced always within a dozen votes, and 
 where Sinn Fein had split the Nationalist vote. So, there- 
 fore, great was the outcry that Sinn Fein was a waning 
 force during the very months when it had set itself to as 
 stark a test of its authority as political party in Ireland had 
 ever faced. 
 
 Yet, before the East Tyrone election was over, another 
 vacancy occurred in King's County (now Leix), and both 
 sides were hard at the campaign there when news came 
 that startled the country, and in a few weeks transformed 
 the whole situation. 
 
 §6 
 
 It was now April; and during the past seven months, 
 while we in Sinn Fein had all been busy shepherding the 
 nation into the fold of the party, the Irish Convention 
 (known mockingly in Ireland as the Lloyd George Con- 
 vention) had continued in session, unminded of the 
 people. These sessions had yielded no event that could 
 attract the people, whereas every meeting held by Sinn 
 Fein was a challenge against authority. Now, however, 
 that Sinn Fein seemed, as our opponents claimed, to be 
 weakening in popular strength, it was decided to bring 
 the Convention to an end and to open a new policy. 
 
 From the point of view of Sinn Fein the past months 
 
 189
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 had left little of personal event to record, for the whirl- 
 wind campaign and the accompanying organization 
 absorbed all our time. Those of us, headed by Eamon 
 de Valera, on whom the work mainly fell, had each his 
 task; and the work went forward with great speed and 
 efficiency and an excellent sense of comradeship. We 
 were all full of hope, not much disturbed by our recent 
 defeats, though we did not minimize the effect they might 
 have on the public mind. The intensity of our work, 
 and the speed at which we all lived, made us less like 
 human beings, with social and personal relations to one 
 another, than like parts of a machine, which it was 
 essential to bring to the utmost efficiency. Our service 
 and our hope, therefore, had put out of sight, had made 
 to seem utterly unreal, the rivalries of ideals and 
 contests of personalities that had preceded the October 
 Convention. 
 
 The European War, too, seemed remote and unreal. 
 Yet it was now to strike across our scene and change the 
 whole course of the future. For it was at this moment 
 that the German armies opened their great offensive to- 
 wards Amiens; and faced by a peril that struck at her 
 existence, the cry went up from England for more men. 
 Inevitable that eyes should be turned to Ireland. Inevit- 
 able that the demand would be made that conscription 
 should be applied there on the same terms as in England. 
 During the Waterford election, indeed, we had claimed 
 that the return of Captain Redmond would bring the 
 application of conscription to Ireland. Yet there was a 
 difficulty in the path, for it was obviously impolitic to 
 charge conscription on a nation that was denied the self- 
 
 190
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 government it claimed, and which the Allies claimed to 
 ensure for all nations. The conclusion of the Conven- 
 tion seemed to indicate a solution of this difficulty. 
 
 The three events seemed, therefore, to be precisely 
 fitted together. For, first, it was alleged that Sinn Fein 
 was weakening; second, the Convention was bringing its 
 long labour to an end; and third, the application of con- 
 scription to Ireland was loudly demanded everywhere in 
 England. These things seemed to be in a happy con- 
 junction. Consequently the Convention was hurried on 
 to a conclusion, with a view to framing a measure of self- 
 government from its findings, in order thus to justify 
 the application of conscription. And on the 9th of April 
 the new policy was announced by Mr. Lloyd George 
 in the British House of Commons. It is true he said that 
 the two questions " do not stand together, each must be 
 taken on its merits." But no one in Ireland was misled. 
 Everyone knew what was meant; and we in Sinn Fein 
 met in long counsels to decide how to meet this new 
 peril, for which all our work now seemed to have been 
 but a preparation. 
 
 §7 
 
 I will not speak of the Convention's reports. We had 
 had our own sources of information, and we knew all 
 that had happened in the Convention behind closed 
 doors. But those reports were dead from the moment of 
 their announcement. Conscription not merely eclipsed 
 them, but slew them outright. Had there been any doubt 
 before that Sinn Fein had become the national organiza- 
 tion, that doubt was now removed. For everyone — in- 
 
 191
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 eluding those who had loved us little, but who loved con- 
 scription less — looked to the militant party to rescue 
 them, and from every part of the country news came of 
 new members joining Sinn Fein cumainn in large 
 numbers. And the first., and immediate, result was that 
 no candidate appeared in opposition to ours in the King's 
 County election. Dr. Patrick McCartan, who had gone 
 to America to represent Sinn Fein there, was returned un- 
 opposed — the first of Sinn Fein's unopposed elections. 
 
 For a while, however, it seemed that the very existence 
 of Sinn Fein, with its purposes, its ideals, and its separate 
 organization, was imperilled. For at a special meeting of 
 the Dublin Corporation, which had been called to protest 
 that Ireland would not accept conscription, to however 
 ample a political settlement it was attached, someone 
 moved further that the Lord Mayor invite John Dillon 
 and Joseph Devlin, as representing the Irish Parliamentary 
 Party, Eamon de Valera and Arthur Griffith as represent- 
 ing Sinn Fein, and representatives of the Trades Union 
 Congress to meet him in conference, in order to give 
 united opposition to conscription and to make and seal 
 an All-Ireland Convention. The motion so amended was 
 passed; and subsequently the Lord Mayor, in sending out 
 his invitations, included William O'Brien and T. M. 
 Healy of the Parliamentary Minority Party. 
 
 When the invitation came to the two leaders of Sinn 
 Fein, shrewd were the glances cast at it, and long the 
 discussions of its worth. At the time, and since, what has 
 become known as the Mansion House Conference was, 
 and has been, regarded as a cunning Sinn Fein device to 
 win back to favour. Little they knew, who thus spoke of 
 
 192
 
 THE WHIRLWIND CAMPAIGN, I917-I918 
 
 it, what opposition it awoke. From the first Eamon de 
 Valera was in favour of acceptance ; and he was supported 
 by Arthur Griffith, who said truly that, wise or unwise, 
 the wish of the people left no alternative. But it took the 
 united effort of these two men to carry the proposal with 
 the Executive Committee. 
 
 It was urged that Sinn Fein did not object to this one 
 isolated legislative act, but to the entire right of a foreign 
 legislature to rule in Ireland. It was claimed that the 
 national right asserted by Sinn Fein did not admit of 
 compromise whatever the temporary danger, and that its 
 purposes and plans must be pursued, not lost or laid aside, 
 as they inevitably would be if its leaders stood side by side 
 with those who regarded those plans and purposes with 
 distrust, if not with hostility. No doubt some of these 
 considerations were moved by the desire for separate 
 possession and power. Impure motives move obscurely 
 in the sincerest of folk; and even when men like Cathal 
 Brugha spoke it was impossible for him to forget all the 
 work that had gone into the making of Sinn Fein, the 
 lives that had been lost, the sacrifices that had been gladly 
 made. Those impure motives moved more in some than 
 in others. But in all the real danger, not merely to Sinn 
 Fein, but to all for which Sinn Fein stood, was frankly 
 recognized — with justice, too, as the event proved. 
 
 In the end, however, it was agreed that our two men 
 should accept the invitation. But it was asserted — on the 
 suggestion of Eamon de Valera himself — that they went 
 to the Conference as individuals, binding Sinn Fein in no 
 way by their action. This was, of course, absurd. The 
 suggestion was like a mathematical formula for which 
 
 193 o
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 no practical correlative can be found — .looking very real 
 on paper, but equating with nothing real in fact. Our 
 two men were the two chief leaders of Sinn Fein, and 
 when they went to the Mansion House Conference it was 
 as the two chief leaders of Sinn Fein that they went. 
 And for some critical weeks Sinn Fein as a separate 
 organization was merged and its plans and purposes laid 
 aside. For the nation, with the peril of conscription 
 hanging above it, thought no more of separate parties or 
 of distinct purposes for its future development; it thought 
 only of the immediate need, and it looked only to the 
 Mansion House Conference as the expression of national 
 unity and national leadership. 
 
 How Sinn Fein was, in the end, extricated from this 
 identity and resumed its plans, and the blow which the 
 British Government struck at its leaders, giving it com- 
 plete possession of the national field, changing the entire 
 course of the future, form, however, a separate story. 
 
 194
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT" AND ITS 
 CONSEQUENCES 
 
 §i 
 
 IT is impossible to describe (it seems, now, even unreal 
 to recall) the immense popular enthusiasm of which 
 the Mansion House Conference was the centre and the 
 occasion. The whole people looked to it as to a beacon 
 by which they should be led out of darkness. I am sure 
 there never has been such concord in Ireland. Enemies 
 forgot their enmities and hastened to be first, in friend- 
 ship. Yet emotion did not rest, at concord, but pressed 
 on to an enthusiasm that was like the advent of a new 
 national being. 
 
 That enthusiasm, indeed, was a sign of ancient foun- 
 tains deeply stirred. . It was very easy to sneer at it, and 
 cross-channel journals did not fail to point the derisive 
 finger at a nation stricken with cowardice at the thought 
 of fighting in Europe. It was not that, however. No 
 one who lived through that time can have failed to realize 
 how very far it was from that. I do not say that the 
 ingredient of fear (however legitimate a fear under the 
 circumstances) was not present; but deeper far was 
 the sense of outrage at the thought of what Joseph 
 Devlin justly and eloquently called a blood-tax charged 
 on the nation by another people, against, whose rule it 
 had never ceased to protest. 
 
 T 95
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 For the people expected to fight; but were resolved to 
 fight at home in defence of their right. There was a 
 story told at the time of an English officer, newly come 
 to Dublin, who entered a tea-shop of the Dublin Bread 
 Company in Stephen's Green. Inside he asked the 
 meaning of the letters " D.B.C." over the doorway. 
 The waitress looked him up and down in his uniform, 
 and "Death Before Conscription," she answered. The 
 story may have been apocryphal, but it was certainly 
 typical. For the new mood was extraordinarily one of 
 challenge and defiance, of outrage and of anger. Among 
 parents fear for their children was naturally stirred, for 
 the European War was to them a remote evil that 
 threatened no Irish liberties, seeing that there were no 
 Irish liberties to be threatened. But among the young, 
 who were chiefly concerned, and who formed the 
 strength of Sinn Fein, there was (particularly in Dublin) 
 almost an eagerness to accept the proffered challenge. I 
 remember myself hearing a Unionist saying to a friend 
 of mine : " Damn you Sinn Feiners, you do nothing but 
 smile. Don't you recognize how serious it all is?" 
 
 Before such a background was the Conference set. It 
 first met on the 8th of April, when John Dillon and 
 Joseph Devlin, representing the Parliamentary Party; 
 William O'Brien (of Mallow) and T. M. Healy, repre- 
 senting the Parliamentary Minority; William O'Brien 
 (of Dublin), Thomas Johnson, and W. J. Egan, represent- 
 ing Labour; and Eamon de Valera and Arthur Griffith, 
 representing Sinn Fein, gathered at the Mansion House 
 under the chairmanship of the Lord Mayor. At the same 
 time it happened that the Catholic Bishops were sitting 
 
 196
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT ' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 in assembly on the same matter at Maynooth; and so one 
 each of all the groups represented at the Mansion House 
 proceeded to Maynooth with a view to getting common 
 action. The following morning, therefore, the papers 
 printed statements issued from both conferences strongly 
 similar in tone. But the common action came on a more 
 critical recommendation. For the Bishops directed their 
 clergy to celebrate a public Mass of intercession the 
 following Sunday " to avert the scourge of conscription 
 with which Ireland is now threatened"; and further 
 directed them to announce public meetings, to be 
 arranged by the Conference, at which a pledge was to be 
 taken in the following terms : " Denying the right of the 
 British Government to enforce compulsory service in this 
 country, we pledge ourselves solemnly to one another to 
 resist conscription by the most effective means at our 
 disposal." 
 
 I will not deal with these public events further than 
 is necessary to give structure to the story. It is right to 
 say, however, that the greater part of the credit of the 
 leadership of the Conference belongs to Eamon de Valera. 
 The immediacy of the problem, its freedom from distant 
 visions and constructive planning, peculiarly well suited 
 the faculty of his mind, and gave great play to the electric 
 quality of his leadership. His very avoidance of diffi- 
 culties chimed with the hour and the national mood. 
 This was well shown in the phrasing of the pledge I have 
 quoted. For clearly so disparate a Conference could 
 scarcely be expected to agree as to the means by which 
 conscription was to be resisted. On one side stood the 
 Volunteers, who were in no doubt at all, who only awaited 
 
 197
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 their chance. But on the other side were the Parlia- 
 mentarians, to whom armed resistance was a surrender 
 of their authority. And it was de Valera who suggested 
 the words " By the most effective means at our disposal," 
 leaving each to interpret that blessed phrase according 
 to temperament and inclination. 
 
 It was, indeed, his hour. His progress was everywhere 
 a triumphal procession, and he was the idol of the people. 
 Crowds waited outside the Mansion House for each dis- 
 persal of the Conference, and then no person was heeded 
 but he. Arthur Griffith generally came out with him, 
 but it was he who was wanted, and Griffith was 
 rejoiced that it should be so. To all shifts were these 
 men put, in fact, sometimes to escape their admirers, who 
 thronged about them and followed them in great crowds 
 through the streets. 
 
 §2 
 
 Within Sinn Fein our arrangements had all been 
 changed to meet the new emergency. It was clear to all 
 of us that the resistance to conscription would of necessity 
 be an armed one, and therefore all members of the organ- 
 ization who were also members of the Volunteers were 
 withdrawn to that service, to the end that it might be 
 strengthened and sharpened to the new necessity. 
 
 Since the return of the Lewes prisoners that force had 
 been reconstituted, and with the spread of Sinn Fein it 
 had been enlarged everywhere by the enrolment of the 
 young men. As I have already indicated, a keen rivalry 
 in fact existed between the two organizations, many of 
 the Volunteers despising the political movement, planning 
 
 198
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT " AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 always to bring it to subservience, and thrusting particu- 
 larly against, those of us who were identified only with 
 it, these thrusts having at last culminated and failed at the 
 October Convention. But the great problem had been 
 that of arms, for with all armament houses under Govern- 
 ment control for the European War, and with the British 
 fleet sharply patrolling the seas, arms had been exceed- 
 ingly difficult to obtain and bring into the country. 
 
 Now, however, the questions of armament and 
 organized resistance became vital, and everybody avail- 
 able was withdrawn for that work. Cathal Brugha was 
 placed in charge of it, and resigned from the Sinn Fein 
 Executive. Austin Stack, my colleague in the secretary- 
 ship, also went to this work. And these two men, with 
 Michael Collins, gave all their time to it, while Eamon 
 de Valera and Arthur Griffith gave their time to the 
 work of the Mansion House Conference. 
 
 Yet, as it happened, the brunt of the work fell on 
 Sinn Fein. For our organization was now called to prove 
 its worth. Its excellency, its newness from the mint, and 
 the rapidity with which it, and through it, the people 
 could be mobilized, gave Sinn Fein a commanding lead 
 in the country during these weeks of tense emotion. Each 
 day the Conference sat, and before it adjourned I was 
 ready to receive, either from de Valera or from Griffith, 
 a summary of that day's conclusions. These were not 
 to be made public till the following day, when they would 
 be announced in that bald form in the Press. But by 
 that time they had already been transformed into definite 
 executive instructions for our cumainn. For our staff 
 would be awaiting my return from the Mansion House, 
 
 199
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 and with a keenness of spirit that no toil could blunt 
 would work all hours. Thus, within twenty-four hours 
 of conclusions being reached at the Mansion House they 
 had been put into executive form and were on their way 
 to the country. And by the following Sunday, at latest, 
 they had been communicated to the people by and in the 
 name of Sinn Fein. 
 
 The first Sunday's meetings, for example, on the 21st 
 of April, when the anti-conscription pledge was 
 solemnly taken at meetings throughout the country, were 
 nearly in every case organized by Sinn Fein. The gain 
 in leadership this gave us was inestimable. Later I 
 endeavoured to time the difference between our speed of 
 work and that of the two Parliamentary organizations, 
 and I found that common decisions, commonly arrived 
 at in conference, reached our cumainn in form for 
 action at least ten days before they reached our rivals — 
 our rivals who had lately been, and who potentially re- 
 mained, our opponents. 
 
 The consequence of this was the suggestion that 
 leaders on both sides should speak from the same plat- 
 form. This aroused the strongest opposition among 
 many of us, naturally, for the line of Sinn Fein's 
 opposition was different from the Parliamentary line. If, 
 said Sinn Fein, it were right that Irish representatives 
 should be present at Westminster, then Ireland was 
 bound by the decisions of the majority of that assembly. 
 The national protest against conscription, in fact, was 
 the nation's acceptance of the Sinn Fein doctrine that to 
 send elected representatives to any other than an Irish 
 Parliament was an abnegation of the nation's integral 
 
 200
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 right. How, then, could Sinn Fein accept a common 
 platform with those who were members of the West- 
 minster Parliament? 
 
 So ran the argument. Nevertheless, two such meet- 
 ings were arranged. At one of them, in Ballaghadereen 
 on the 5th of May, de Valera spoke with John Dillon; 
 and at the other, in Magherafelt, Co. Derry, some days 
 after, I spoke with Joseph Devlin. Neither meeting was 
 exactly a success, and they were not repeated. For in 
 the meantime other events had happened that had brought 
 the two parties to opposite sides of the line of division. 
 
 §3 
 
 I have slated that when first the conscription menace 
 fell like a shadow across the scene Sinn Fein had won 
 its first unopposed election in King's County (now Leix). 
 Not easily could the Parliamentary Party allow a repeti- 
 tion of this sort of reluctant abdication. Yet within a 
 few weeks the well-known Sam Young died, having 
 lingered a long time ill, and his death caused a vacancy 
 in East Cavan, where both sides had been busy organizing 
 in prospect of that lamentable event, in decency pretend- 
 ing to do nothing of the sort, but in fact giving strenuous 
 energy to every square inch of the territory comprised. 
 And before the Mansion House Conference had met for 
 the first time this problem faced us, and, since the 
 administration of Sinn Fein had been placed in my hands, 
 by the withdrawal of my colleague to other work, it fell 
 particularly to me — in so far, that is to say, as it could 
 be treated as an administrative problem at all. 
 
 201
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Ordinarily it would have been so treated. Ordinarily 
 we would have instructed the Constituency Executive to 
 place a name, or panel of names, before the Central 
 Executive. It needed no reflection, however, to perceive 
 that the present circumstances, with the Mansion House 
 Conference about to meet, could hardly be treated as 
 ordinary. But we knew whom our people in East Cavan 
 had already selected : Arthur Griffith, a member of the 
 Conference, and, outside the Labour members, the only 
 member who had not the rank of a public representative. 
 I therefore decided to treat the matter as arising in the 
 ordinary course of administration, and, the week before 
 the Conference was to meet, instructed the Constituency 
 Executive to meet for the choice of its candidate, the date 
 of the meeting to be the Sunday following the first 
 meeting of the Conference. 
 
 In coming to this decision I had (though I will not 
 pretend with what success) endeavoured to put out of 
 my mind the love I bore for Arthur Griffith. I did not 
 endeavour to put out of mind my deep faith in him, my 
 respect for him, for these were essential to any decision 
 of such importance. I knew, to be sure, that shrewd 
 criticism would come, for I was not unaware that plans 
 were being made for a non-contentious candidate, plans 
 that I had reason to believe were not confined to the 
 Parliamentary Party, and I was prepared to abide 
 trouble. 
 
 The Saturday after the first meeting of the Mansion 
 House Conference — the day before the appointed meet- 
 ing of the Constituency Executive — I was going down 
 to address some meeting in the south (at Cashel, if my 
 
 202
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT ' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 memory says rightly), and William O'Brien (of Mallow) 
 came up to me on Kingsbridge platform. After our first 
 greetings he spoke at once of the East Cavan election. 
 He referred to the possible candidature of Griffith, and 
 said he was deeply persuaded of the desirability of that 
 candidature in the present circumstances. Speaking with 
 that earnestness and sincerity that have been the marks 
 of his public life, he urged that any measures that were 
 necessary should be taken to ensure that Arthur Griffith 
 be elected for East Cavan, and he went on to speak of 
 intrigue of which he knew, to secure the return of 
 another candidate who was named by agreement. I 
 stated that I felt sure that Sinn Fein would put up a 
 candidate of its own for the constituency, but he replied 
 that no time was to be lost, for the matter was to be 
 under discussion that very week-end. 
 
 He left me within three minutes of the departure of 
 the train. When he had gone, I hastened to the tele- 
 graph office. There I wired to the Constituency 
 Director of Elections, instructing that the choice of the 
 following evening was to be announced without failure 
 in the Dublin Press on Monday morning. Those were 
 days when orders were carried out to the letter. This 
 particular order meant (as I afterward learnt) a motor 
 journey of over thirty miles late at night to the nearest 
 telephone station, but that journey was made, and when 
 I returned to Dublin by an early train on Monday there 
 the news was in all the Press. 
 
 The first person who came in to see me at the office 
 was Griffith himself. Pointing to the newspaper 
 announcement he asked me if I had known the Con- 
 
 203
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 stituency Executive was to meet. I answered that it 
 had met at my instruction, and that my instruction had 
 included the newspaper announcement. Our further 
 talk turned upon personal matters, and he concluded by 
 saying that he did not think that the intrusion of his 
 personality at that moment was in the national interest. 
 The next person to come was de Valera, who asked the 
 same question, and got the same answer. He then said 
 that he had spoken of the matter with Griffith, and that 
 they both agreed that the announcement was very un- 
 fortunate, for it was felt that it was better at the moment 
 to put up a non-contentious candidate, who would be re- 
 turned by agreement. He proposed that a statement 
 should be sent to the papers to the effect that the choice 
 of the local executive had yet to come before headquarters, 
 which would consider the appropriateness of a party 
 candidature at that moment. And I answered that this 
 could be done, but it had to be remembered that the 
 next day was the day of the National Strike against Con- 
 scription — when no papers would be published and when 
 the entire nation would stand idle, displaying by that 
 gesture its united protest, against the " blood tax." No 
 announcement could therefore be made before Wednes- 
 day. By that time the news would be belated, and the 
 candidature of Arthur Griffith would have been con- 
 firmed by the relentless action of forty-eight hours. 
 
 I can see him now as these words were spoken. We 
 stood by the window in a corner of the long room in 
 which we worked, and as we had spoken he had looked 
 thoughtful and perplexed. But now he looked sharply 
 at me, and then he laughed, with acceptance of the 
 
 204
 
 THE 'GERMAN PLOT"' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 inevitable. ' I suppose," he said, " we will have to go 
 through with it now, and perhaps it is just, as well " — in 
 some such words as these, and expressing at least that 
 thought. 
 
 u 
 
 So, while the Mansion House Conference deliberated, 
 we were thrown into the midst of an election, in which 
 two parties represented at that conference contended 
 against each other. 
 
 The work was hard to begin. Since the days of the 
 Parnell split, when family was divided against family and 
 son against father, there has been a horror in Ireland of 
 political divisions, a horror that has led to false unities 
 and crushed out the practice (the rare, the vital, the manly 
 practice) of friendship in opposition and a brave giving 
 and taking of criticism. When Sinn Fein had first begun 
 its campaign this had been our chief difficulty, for the 
 charge chiefly cast at us was that of being " factionist." 
 But now that Sinn Fein had been stayed on its course, 
 its opposition folded and laid away, and some weeks spent 
 in learning an uneasy psalm of peace, hardly would the 
 people bear a renewal of opposition. 
 
 It was this repugnance, I believe, more than apprecia- 
 tion of the menace of conscription, that made the work 
 so hard. The people did not want to hear of rival policies. 
 In places where a few weeks before an election meeting 
 would have brought forth a great hosting and resolute 
 enthusiasm, now but a few came, and these few were 
 silent and perturbed. They would have come in throngs 
 to an anti-conscription meeting, but to a political meet- 
 
 205
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 ing they would not. It was necessary therefore to weave 
 the two together, and this was done by pointing that 
 the right of Westminster to legislate for Ireland had at 
 least this much sanction in the eyes of the world, that 
 Ireland was represented there with her consent. In the 
 present election, therefore, held under the threat of con- 
 scription, it was vital that a candidate should be returned 
 whose presence there would not continue that sanction. 
 
 By arguments such as these was the lost ground re- 
 covered. But our chief strength, of course, was in our 
 candidate. Arthur Griffith's position at the Mansion 
 House Conference, the recognition everywhere of his 
 willingness to stand aside and his steadfast, unbreakable 
 courage, were factors that became more important with 
 each week that passed. 
 
 We were confident of winning the election at any time, 
 for a year's detailed work had been given to the con- 
 stituency, and the delay was sincerely regretted by all 
 of us, and by none more than Arthur Griffith, for it 
 embittered much more than the electoral contest; but the 
 fact remains that each week's delay helped us more and 
 more, for it brought us further from the talk of unity 
 (where there was little real unity) and enabled our entire 
 organization to be thrown in the constituency. Yet the 
 Parliamentary Party constantly delayed the issue of the 
 writ, and that delay could only be explained by us as 
 born of a hope that some chance would avert from them 
 a blow that could not help but be (as indeed it proved 
 to be) of fatal consequence. 
 
 206
 
 THE ''GERMAN PLOT' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 §5 
 
 Other eyes, however, were watching these events. For 
 it must now have been clear to the British Government 
 that the Man-Power Act could hardly be applied to 
 Ireland without the help of more forces than could be 
 spared from Europe — that application of the Act would 
 in fact deplete rather than augment the necessary man- 
 power for Europe. As for the Home Rule addition by 
 which that application could be held to be justified, none 
 spoke of it or thought of it. All this was due to Sinn 
 Fein, which was organizing disciplined man-power of its 
 own in readiness for another war, and which, by the 
 logic of circumstance helped by wide plans, was now 
 admittedly the master-power in Ireland. 
 
 Counter-plans were therefore made to strike so heavy a 
 blow at Sinn Fein that it would not easily recover from 
 it. The first parts of these plans were not observed at 
 the time. They were afterwards apparent. The sequence 
 of events may be outlined in a sentence or two, and it 
 is important, for it influenced more of the future than 
 could possibly have been imagined at the time, or than 
 has been recognized since. 
 
 The first event occurred on the 12th of April, two days 
 after Mr. Lloyd George had announced in the British 
 Commons the intention of his Government to apply con- 
 scription to Ireland. For on that day a man landed on 
 the coast of Co. Clare in a collapsible boat. This 
 man was Joseph Dowling, who lies to-day in gaol, 1 despite 
 special resolutions of both Houses of the Free State 
 
 1 Released in February, 1924. 
 207
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Oireachtas calling for his release in accordance with the 
 amnesty accorded to all other political prisoners. The 
 facts concerning his landing have never been stated, and 
 may now be. For he was arrested immediately on his 
 landing. He came, however, bearing a message from 
 the German Government to the leaders of Sinn Fein 
 in Ireland. In spite of this arrest that message was duly 
 delivered, but it did not in the least influence anybody, 
 and it certainly did not constitute negotiations between 
 Sinn Fein and the German Government. During Easter 
 Week reliance had been placed on German co-operation, 
 and Sinn Fein was not again going to be made a catspaw 
 of foreign Powers, either among the Allies or among the 
 Central Powers. Dowling came only to deliver a message, 
 and he delivered his message in spite of all difficulties, 
 and that message neither constituted a German plot nor 
 constituted Dowling a plotter. Indeed, Dowling played 
 the part of a man, for had he at the time divulged the 
 fact that his message was to his captors there is no doubt 
 but that he would have been released. Instead of which 
 he kept his silence, and for that he is still in gaol, though 
 every other political prisoner has been released. 
 
 This landing, however, started all that followed, for 
 it clearly gave the opportunity of a blow at Sinn Fein. 
 And twelve days afterwards the first preparation was 
 made for this blow. For two years before steps had been 
 taken to test the legality, under the regulations of the 
 Defence of the Realm Act, of our removal outside Ireland, 
 but our releases had put an abrupt end to these proceed- 
 ings. Now, on the 24th of April, quietly and without 
 notice, these regulations were altered, so as to secure the 
 
 208
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT ' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 legality of such deportations without trial. Other more 
 startling changes were on wing however. For on the 
 ist of May Mr. Shortt was appointed Chief Secretary for 
 Ireland in the room of Mr. Duke, and on the 6th of May 
 Field Marshal Lord French was appointed Viceroy in 
 the room of Lord Wimborne. 
 
 Then these things being accomplished, on the 8th of 
 May Sir Edward Carson, not a member of the Govern- 
 ment, issued a statement saying " that the Government 
 have the clearest evidence in their possession that the 
 Sinn Fein organization is, and has been, in alliance with 
 Germany." No one who knew Ireland but knew that 
 such a statement, coming from such a quarter, was 
 ominous. But more was to follow. For, in the light of 
 what has been seen, the last step follows with curious 
 significance. On the ioth of May General Sir Bryan 
 Mahon was moved from his command. He was then 
 General Commanding the troops in Ireland : he is now 
 a Free State Senator, and as such has been moving 
 strongly for the release of Joseph Dowling, a matter in 
 which he speaks with remarkable authority. On his 
 leaving he took occasion to address the troops, so as to 
 say that he left " with deep regret " — a singular procedure 
 that struck us at the time as intended to be of public 
 significance. 
 
 Such were the preparations for the famous " German 
 plot," by which Sinn Fein was to be struck from power. 
 There was no such plot; the real plotters sat in the seats 
 of authority, and their plot was to have a very different 
 conclusion from what was intended. It was, in fact, to 
 change the entire course of the future by putting a 
 
 209 p
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 different body of men in control of the organization, 
 and thus to compel the very conflict which they desired 
 to avert, a conflict which (or at least the bitter severity of 
 which) might have been avoided for the country had the 
 plot not been framed, But this was hidden in the future. 
 At the time we knew nothing of the blow that was about 
 to fall. We took these administrative changes to mean 
 the certain application of conscription in the very near 
 future, and we were busy completing our arrangements 
 for organized resistance. 
 
 §6 
 
 On Friday, the 17th of May, I had been busy all day 
 at headquarters, and had returned home late in the after- 
 noon quietly to consider certain matters which I was to 
 bring before a meeting of the Executive that night. I 
 returned to the office about 7.30 to find it a scene of 
 bustle and activity and no little hilarity. Papers and files 
 were being tied together and removed to places of safety, 
 and I was told that we were all to be arrested that night. 
 Those were times when everyone was ready to take all 
 that befell with humour, for without that humour much 
 of the strain of these hours could hardly have been borne. 
 Bonnier and better to take the blows that came to us 
 cheerily, since to consider them too deeply must have 
 unmanned the mind. So each worker reminded his 
 fellow of the prisons he was to revisit, and it was only 
 with difficulty, amid the quips that flew about, that I 
 could discover what had happened. Then I learnt that 
 intelligence had come that widespread arrests were to 
 
 210
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 occur that night, that the detective division (the " G ' 
 Division, the members of which were known as Gee-men) 
 had been mobilized for action, and that a fleet of lorries 
 was even dien ready in the " Upper Castle Yard." 
 
 So that night, while the staff worked, the Executive 
 considered the matter. We finished our ordinary agenda 
 first, had our decisions recorded for action, and it must 
 have been well past nine at night before we turned to the 
 matter of our threatened arrests. By that time, our full 
 number having mustered, the house must have been sur- 
 rounded by not less than thirty or forty detectives — for 
 most of us were accustomed to be watched in all our 
 movements — and these were in turn watched by our 
 pickets. Yet we could have escaped without very great 
 difficulty had we so decided. The problem before us 
 was whether we should escape. For the question that 
 required of us an answer was, assuming our intelligence 
 to be correct (and it was sharp and precise, admitting 
 of little doubt), what action on our part would best accord 
 with the policy we had placed before the country. For 
 in our answer that night, with the enemy preparing at 
 that moment to strike at us, the whole national future 
 would necessarily be involved. 
 
 As my recollection brings back that scene, in Arthur 
 Griffith's private room at the back of the house, I am 
 stirred by pride in my comrades and our comradeship 
 of those days. No one thought of himself or herself, 
 and all our debate was directed to the effect on the country. 
 There were three alternatives before us, and we discussed 
 each calmly in all its bearings. The first was to go into 
 hiding, or as our Irish idiom runs, to "go on our 
 
 211
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 keeping"; the second was that of armed resistance; and 
 the third was to acquiesce quietly in our arrests. We 
 debated each of these in turn, from the point of view of 
 national policy. And we decided that the first was un- 
 sound, for if we went on our keeping the national 
 discipline would certainly be impaired by the thought of 
 its leaders skulking under cover before the first blow 
 offered by our foeman. That would be fatal. Under 
 cover we would be useless and the national courage 
 undermined. Turning to the second alternative, we 
 dismissed this too. For if we offered armed resistance 
 within a few hours the Volunteers would be forced into 
 action. That, too, would be fatal. For while we had 
 publicly advocated armed resistance in the event of con- 
 scription being enforced, we had been equally resolved 
 that, to gain our point of view, the nation must act on 
 the defensive in such resistance. To be forced into the 
 offensive would undo our case. So we decided against 
 this also — after a discussion that was much more 
 collected than many a decision in chess-strategy. 
 
 Thus we were left with our last alternative, to acquiesce 
 without resistance in our arrests, and we discussed this, 
 too, in all its bearings. It seemed to us that our arrests 
 could not but stiffen the national resistance. There would 
 be many others to take our places, whereas the shock 
 would startle and arouse the country. Moreover, the 
 effect of such arrests on the East Cavan election would 
 be to raise the issue there beyond all doubt. So we 
 decided that each member of the Executive should return 
 to his or her home, and stand to arrest, whatever the con- 
 sequence of these arrests were to be — and we did not 
 
 212
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT ' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 then know but that they might be the prelude to State 
 trials for treason. 
 
 When I reached home that night it was nearly eleven 
 o'clock, and I told my wife all that had happened. I 
 had been followed home by two detectives, who stood in 
 a doorway opposite even while we spoke. She suggested 
 the ease of escape, but that was out of the question, for 
 we had to be faithful to the decision we had taken. So 
 she packed my bag for my journey, wherever I was to 
 be taken, and prepared a meal, since I did not know 
 when next I should have another. 
 
 I was actually at this meal, and arranging a number 
 of business details for my absence, when we heard 
 stealthy footsteps on the stair. It was my captors surely 
 enough, who came through the darkness to my flat with 
 their pockets heavy' with revolvers, and a few yards down 
 the road was a lorry with twenty soldiers. 
 
 §7 
 I have written of this arrest and of the gaols that 
 followed, in another place, and will not write at length 
 of them again. It is enough to say that I was taken 
 first to die guard-room at Dublin Castle, arriving soon 
 after midnight. I wish to return my thanks to the 
 sergeant of the guard, on whose " doss " (as he with 
 simple friendliness offered it) I slept till the next party 
 arrived about three o'clock that night. The first of these 
 was Arthur Griffith, and I can see now that dear man's 
 sharp turn towards me and his friendly greeting as I 
 rose on my bed and hailed him. 
 
 213
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 At four that night a party of eight or nine of us 
 (some among the great dead, some in gaol as Irregulars, 
 and some supporters of the Free State) were taken down 
 to Kingstown and deposited in the hold of a gunboat 
 that awaited us. There was only one person already 
 in that hold, and he arose out of the darkness to greet 
 us with outstretched hand. This was Eamon de Valera. 
 He had been taken on his way to his home at Greystones. 
 But all that day we were joined by later parties, many 
 of whom had been brought down from the election in 
 Cavan. When our hold was full we heard them on the 
 deck overhead being tramped to another part of the ship 
 — to the aft-hold, as we afterwards discovered. And it 
 was not till after four in the afternoon that the gunboat 
 swung loose from the quay and bore us to our exile. 
 
 During the Sunday that followed we were kept in a 
 camp at Holyhead, and on Monday divided into two 
 sections, one party being taken to Usk Gaol and the other 
 to Gloucester Gaol. I was in the latter party, as were most 
 of the members of the Sinn Fein Executive Committee. 
 On our journey we were treated with the greatest courtesy 
 by the officers and men of the Welsh regiment from 
 which our guard was formed — who spent their time 
 collecting our autographs at foot of what purported to 
 be our likenesses in the illustrated Press. Their friendli- 
 ness was, indeed, of great assistance to us, for they 
 protected us with no little truculency from the crowds 
 that, innocently believing what they had been told of us, 
 moved threateningly about us as we were marched 
 through the streets in Gloucester city. Some of them, in 
 fact, expressed their preferences as between prisoners and 
 
 214
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 citizens in language that was highly decorative and force- 
 ful, yet measured and sufficient. For they had learned 
 of us as we had travelled together, whereas the others had 
 only read of us. 
 
 At Gloucester Gaol, tired as we were, we had again to 
 fight, long and Stubbornly, for our rights — as political 
 undesirables, let me say, as distinguished from prisoners. 
 Prepared as we were to fight for these rights, they were con- 
 ceded, for nothing was ever conceded to us in grace. Our 
 party at Gloucester contained Eamon de Valera, Arthur 
 Griffith, and William T. Cosgrave, each in turn heads 
 of the Irish State, as well as others who have figured with 
 honour and prominence in their nation's service. Some 
 of our company then are now among the Irregulars, but 
 the chief of them have supported the treaty from the first. 
 
 At Gloucester we read for the first time the published 
 information of our "plot;" and nothing surprised us so 
 much as the lack of skill with which the poor case was 
 marshalled in the official statement. 
 
 We were not permitted to remain long as so complete 
 a company at Gloucester. For a week later a party of us 
 were taken out and removed to Lincoln Gaol. That party 
 included Eamon de Valera, Sean McGarry, and Sean 
 Milroy (now deputies of Dail Eireann), who escaped from 
 diere. And two days afterwards I was taken alone to 
 Durham Gaol, where certain later arrests had been taken. 
 
 So began what was for me the weariest of my arrests. 
 Durham Gaol is old and damp. Our company there was 
 eventually thirteen, and the space available for us for 
 daily association was not adequate. I had not before 
 met any of those whom I at first saw there; and new com- 
 
 215
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 panions (particularly under such enforced conditions) 
 have always created in me the extreme of discomfort 
 and distress. No visits were allowed from friend or rela- 
 tion, except under conditions that it was well known 
 would not be accepted by us or by them. So I spent most 
 of my time making up arrears of reading; and as I was 
 destined to be there for nearly eleven months, I had a 
 considerable library to bring away with me in the end. 
 But many things were to happen before that end. 
 
 §8 
 
 For our arrests created the very erred: in Ireland for 
 which we had calculated — an effect the opposite of that 
 on which the Government had gambled. For a long 
 time in gaol we were not permitted to receive any Irish 
 papers; but we hardly needed them to know (what is the 
 historic fact) that the people were stirred as they had been 
 by few events. The enforcement of Conscription was put 
 out of the question altogether in the face of a people so 
 powerfully rallied. Sinn Fein was finally placed in 
 national leadership and control. And for a sign Arthur 
 Griffith was returned for East Cavan bv an overwhelm- 
 ing majority. 
 
 Moreover, as we knew, and as we had arranged for at 
 our last meeting on the night of our arrests, the Officer 
 Board and the Executive Committee were at once recon- 
 stituted by those who stepped into our places. Our files 
 and papers — of which duplicates, for that matter, had 
 always been kept — were brought from their places of 
 safety; and the work continued as before. 
 
 216
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT"" AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 Thus a curious thing was brought to pass. I have 
 already shown how, at various critical occasions, a strong 
 internal rivalry, or opposition of forces, had threatened to 
 rend the organization asunder. Since human nature may 
 never be denied, this opposition of forces had been 
 governed by strong personal reactions and antipathies, 
 but it was based more deeply. Partly it existed in 
 opposed politics : as between those who seemed, to judge 
 from their speech, to think only of armed force and 
 obedient, disciplined ranks of youth, and those who held 
 that armed force was of little avail save in defence and 
 support of a reasoned policy. But actually it had been 
 deeper even than this. It had consisted of the struggle 
 of the Irish Republican Brotherhood, generally known as 
 the I.R.B., a pledge-sworn secret society, for political 
 power and control. Michael Collins was at the time at 
 the head of this body, and he was surrounded by a 
 number of lieutenants, all of whom held prominent com- 
 mand in the Volunteers. Cathal Brugha, who then was 
 at the head of the Volunteers, had actually left the I.R.B. 
 after Easter Week; but its faith was his faith, save that 
 he cared little for politics and political control, whereas 
 the others sought always for control of Sinn Fein and 
 desired to put out of power those of us who were not in 
 the Brotherhood and were not, in the armament sense, 
 fighting men. 
 
 This opposition had come to a head at the October 
 Convention, when a voting list, from which certain of us 
 had been markedly excluded, had been prepared by the 
 I.R.B. and circulated to delegates. It has been seen how 
 the exposure of this list had defeated its intention. Some 
 
 217
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 of those named on the lift, including Michael Collins, 
 had been elected to the Executive; but the I.R.B. failed 
 to get the control it had sought. The consequence had 
 been that, while some members of the Brotherhood had 
 worked actively with Sinn Fein, others, and conspicuously 
 Michael Collins, had taken little part in its political work, 
 but had kept to the Volunteers — of which body he him- 
 self at that moment was Adjutant-General. 
 
 So it happened that neither he nor those who acted 
 with him had been present at our meeting when we had 
 decided to stand to our arrests. None of them were 
 arrested; for they acted together, and went immediately 
 " on their keeping," including Harry Boland, who had 
 been present at the meeting. The Brotherhood was, 
 therefore, in a strong position now to capture the control 
 it had sought so long; and it was to these men, indeed, 
 that the organization naturally looked to take the places 
 of those who had been removed. They did so at the 
 very moment when the powerful revulsion of feeling all 
 over the country, caused by the arrests, put Sinn Fein into 
 undisputed leadership of the nation. And such was the 
 curious chance by which the British Government made 
 the I.R.B. masters of the scene. 
 
 In this manner, then, came Michael Collins to the 
 control for which he had striven, which he held so 
 tenaciously, and which he maintained to the end. A 
 man of ruthless purpose and furious energy, knowing 
 clearly what he wanted and prepared to trample down 
 everybody to get it, he was the real master of the new 
 Executive. The new secretaries were Sean T. O'Kelly 
 and Harry Boland, but behind Boland was Michael 
 
 218
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT ' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 Collins, whose hourly companion and faithful adherent 
 he was. The new President was Father O'Flanagan, the 
 only one of the two Vice-Presidents who had not been 
 arretted; and he also, at that time, was Collins' adherent 
 — though he may have construed the terms of allegiance 
 otherwise. 
 
 Others there were of the same kind, whose names and 
 personalities do not matter, for they have passed out of 
 the field, in the race that was yet so furiously to be run. 
 But the real masters of the new scene were two, and 
 they exerted their powers in very different fashions, 
 according to the wholly different inclination of their 
 temperaments. The two of them were to come into 
 violent conflict in the end, and were to die violently on 
 opposite sides within a few weeks of one another in the 
 breaking asunder of the violent instrument which they 
 then created. No passages of more bitter acrimony were 
 to be heard in the national history than were yet to be 
 exchanged between these two men, before the supporters 
 of each wrought the death of the other. But at that time, 
 though even then there was little sympathy between the 
 two, they combined in all ill-assorted but most effective 
 partnership of power. 
 
 The first of these was Michael Collins. His was the 
 power he desired. With the secret organization of the 
 I.R.B. behind him, and with the more forceful members 
 of the new Executive acting at his behest, he could afford 
 to remain in the background while exercising the real 
 control of the public organization of Sinn Fein. It was 
 during these months, I believe, when it seemed at the 
 height of its power and authority, that Sinn Fein first 
 
 219
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 began to be bled of its Strength. For nothing will more 
 weaken any public institution than for it to be wire-pulled 
 by secret forces. Yet Collins' control was very effective, 
 and his energy was without limit in the exercise of that 
 control. 
 
 The second of these was Cathal Brugha. He also had 
 the power he desired. He controlled nobody, as Collins 
 did; and he was quietly contemptuous of that kind of 
 control. But in the end, when the organization had been 
 manipulated by the restless energy of Collins, all issues of 
 policy ultimately came back to him. For on these matters 
 his rigid will could never be moved. Stubborn, unbreak- 
 able, intractable, there was now no Arthur Griffith to pit 
 him will against will, and compel him to come down to 
 the details of policy. His life in the dream of the Re- 
 public — a Republic of name, without definition or con- 
 stitution — was his reality. The public declaration of that 
 name was all that to him was required to complete the 
 reality that existed indivisibly in his mind. And since it 
 is in such attitudes of policy, rather than in the control 
 and manipulation of organizations, that real leadership 
 exists, it was to Cadial Brugha that the leadership passed 
 during this period, as the event was to show. 
 
 It only wanted Father O'Flanagan to give the eloquent 
 flourish to this combination for it to be publicly com- 
 plete. And that public completion was most necessary 
 to stir and hold the imagination of the people during the 
 critical months that were to follow. For when the British 
 Government saw the mistake it had made it moved ahead 
 at once to the proclamation of Sinn Fein. Every effort 
 was made to stamp out its activities; and men were seized 
 
 220
 
 THE "GERMAN PLOT' AND ITS CONSEQUENCES 
 
 and thrown into gaol for merely reading a declaration of 
 policy. All these efforts, however, were in vain. The 
 people stood solidly behind Sinn Fein, with that quality 
 of conviction that violence only makes more resolute; 
 and a moment was approaching when this was to be seen 
 in unmistakable form. 
 
 For the European War ended in the Armistice, and 
 all thoughts (throughout the world, and peculiarly in 
 Ireland) were turned towards the Peace Conference, the 
 cardinal factor, at that time, of Sinn Fein policy. It was 
 at this moment diat Mr. Lloyd George dissolved Parlia- 
 ment; and this, of course, involved Ireland in the General 
 Election. Now, therefore, had come the moment for 
 which Sinn Fein had worked for two years; and every 
 energy was thrown into the effort to make Ireland's 
 demand for independence at the Peace Conference un- 
 mistakable because unanimous. 
 
 So the irony was refined and finished. It was in view 
 of this moment that a long contest had been fought 
 within the ranks of Sinn Fein — and before those ranks 
 had, eighteen months before, been widened to include 
 certain others of slower speed. The I.R.B., under Michael 
 Collins, had struggled for the control of the organization 
 of Sinn Fein, as it had captured and controlled the organi- 
 zation of the Volunteers. But it had been beaten in open 
 vote in a Convention representative of the entire country. 
 On the other hand, Cathal Brugha had fought stubbornly 
 for a Constitution in which the Republic of his dream 
 should be accepted as an inflexible, unquestionable fact. 
 But he also had been defeated by Arthur Griffidi, who 
 had laid down the principle that this was a question the 
 
 221
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 people themselves musl: finally answer in the exercise of 
 their freedom. And now had come the moment when 
 the harvest of these victories should have been reaped. 
 Instead of which, by the action of the British Govern- 
 ment in arresting those whom die people had appointed, 
 those who had been defeated were in power at the head 
 of a triumphant organization at a time of General Elec- 
 tion to carry out their purposes. 
 
 For some of us the consequence was to be serious. For 
 myself, as will be seen, it practically meant that I was to 
 be thrown out of the organization. Apart from the 
 personal aspect, however, the irony was certainly masterly 
 and complete. I have already said that the entire course 
 of the future was to be governed by it during years of 
 such darkness and intensity of violence as few peoples 
 have been required to endure. 
 
 222
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC 
 OF IRELAND 
 
 §i 
 
 WHAT is that fabled dragon of a man's life, his 
 worst enemy? The measure of his infamy, or 
 the tribute to his quality? Or both? Or is it the meed 
 of the " insolence of talent which is expiated by dumb 
 hatred, and calumnies not loud but deep," as good 
 Jacques Tournebroche is alleged to have earned? I do 
 not pretend to say; but I fear that there are some in my 
 days who would vie with one another for that poor 
 distinction. Yet, whoever they be and wherever they 
 be, few or many, I would not wish them such weeks as 
 I spent in the winter that closed 1918 and opened 1919. 
 Not all winter fruit, I think, can be as bitter as the fruit 
 I could not put away from me then; and I am sure that 
 the taste of that fruit will never leave my tongue, or be 
 forgotten by my mind. Always I shall bear the scar 
 of the torture that body and brain conspired to bestow. 
 
 I have been housed in ten different gaols or places of 
 confinement, and among them Durham Gaol is possessed 
 of a peculiar distinction. It is built of local sandstone 
 that loves to absorb the mists of that northern clime and 
 nurture them for the refinements of wintry pleasure. It 
 is built of two sections, one of an antiquity more vener- 
 
 223
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 able than comfortable, and the other, modern, yet warm. 
 My cell was on the borders of the two. From another 
 part of the gaol I stole a thermometer, in a morbid desire 
 to Study the degrees of my bodily torment. The theft is 
 yet with me, and hangs before me now as I write. For 
 over seven weeks I never remember to have seen it rise 
 above 44 degrees Fahrenheit. For it must be remembered 
 that at that time there was a coal shortage in Great Britain, 
 and the Governor of the gaol was courteous to explain 
 to us that his authorities had enjoined parsimony upon 
 him. The furnaces for central heating were, therefore, 
 kept low; and my cell was the last of the row, so that 
 everyone else had exhausted the heat of the air before it 
 came to me in a chill and deathly blast. 
 
 I asked for more blankets, with which I was readily 
 supplied. But prison blankets are of strange manufac- 
 ture. They are close-woven, hard, and heavy. They lie 
 upon one like sheets of lead, weighty on the limbs, re- 
 stricting the circulation of the blood; and I was glad to 
 be rid of them, or as many of them as I reasonably could. 
 I remember many a night feeling the life leave my limbs, 
 and getting out of my bed to restore heat by hard and 
 vigorous exercise. But this itself, as it began by being 
 unpleasant, ended by being painful. For I got severe 
 neuritis in my arms and shoulders, and lay wakeful, not 
 knowing whether it were better to endure the pain and 
 awaken heat, or endure the cold and evade the added 
 pain. 
 
 Those nights were not pleasant. And it was to such 
 nights that there came reflections that made bodily pain 
 a mere pleasantry by comparison. I have shown how our 
 
 224
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 arrets in 1918 put into power in Ireland a body of men 
 who had Struggled for that power before, and who had 
 not regarded with extraordinary enthusiasm those into 
 whose hands it had been placed by popular vote. I am 
 bound to say that I had never suspected that it would 
 have been used as it was used. Nobly, courageously, it 
 was used in all matters of national advantage; but not so 
 nobly, not so courageously, in personal matters. 
 
 §2 
 
 Indeed, the meaning of the change was already 
 apparent, though I had refused to see it. All letters 
 from Ireland had, of course, to be guarded and allusive, 
 but one had learned to read allusion as clear as a primer, 
 and I knew that all those who were of what I may call 
 the Griffith school were marked down for destruction. 
 Now, as the General Election of December came forward, 
 for which all our labours for two years had been but a 
 preparation, tiiat intention became only too clear; and as 
 the result, and particularly the methods by which the 
 result was attained, were to mean so much in the future, 
 they may be related now with brevity, yet with candour, 
 as they fell within my ov/n experience. 
 
 For it happened that the assault was to centre most 
 conspicuously on myself — so conspicuously as to make it 
 appear that I must have been guilty of not less than 
 treachery — a thought, indeed, to which many did come 
 as the only possible explanation of what occurred. For 
 before our arrests I had been invited to contest certain 
 constituencies when the Election occurred; and in one 
 
 225 Q
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 case the invitation had been given publicly before a town- 
 ship. But now that the I.R.B. was in control of the Sinn 
 Fein organization, other dispositions were being made. 
 For I had twice been offered the I.R.B. oath, and twice 
 had declined it; since to be bound by an oath rather than 
 by a conviction seemed to me an insult, not only to a 
 man's intelligence, but to his probity, particularly when 
 that oath is administered by a secret society. Therefore, 
 among these other dispositions, it was only too apparent 
 that I was to be completely eliminated. 
 
 It would be idle to pretend that I did not feel chagrin 
 at being passed over so completely. Our mortal flesh is 
 not so made; and even Arthur Griffith, than whom I 
 have never met a man more selfless, might have felt morti- 
 fied at so public a rebuke. And I held, by public vote, 
 a position of high responsibility in the organization, and 
 was in gaol because of that responsibility. But I chiefly 
 felt the implication, so certain to be drawn, that the com- 
 plete elimination of myself was due to some offence that 
 I must have committed, and when, as the election pro- 
 ceeded, John Dillon at Ballaghadereen pointed the finger 
 of derision at so marked an omission — why, then I 
 avoided even my comrades at Durham and kept to my- 
 self. 
 
 In Durham we had already established a secret post in 
 and out (even to parcels, as the prison authorities may be 
 surprised to learn); and by this means I communicated 
 with my wife, asking her to see certain of my friends 
 in the country. After a week I received a loaf of bread 
 from her, home-baked, so the inscription ran, for my 
 special comfort. This I bore to my cell; and, cutting it 
 
 226
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 open, I found a budget of documents that did not make 
 happy reading. For they made it clear that the omission 
 was being carefully and skilfully organized from within 
 the new Sinn Fein Executive by the I.R.B. — and, let 
 me add, that Cathal Brugha had sought to undo what 
 others were determined to achieve. 
 
 These things, to be sure, are of yesterday, and do not 
 now gready matter. It is right, however, to look at them 
 Steadfastly, for they show die subtle, internal machinery 
 of a political organization working behind the public, 
 national demonstration, which was all that the world 
 saw in the momentous Election of December, 1918, in 
 Ireland. But at the time it made me feel as a soldier 
 might feel in the front trenches of his army when he 
 finds himself sniped from his own supports. It was not 
 pleasant. It was certainly not pleasant. In a prison-cell 
 at 44 degrees Fahrenheit it was most unpleasant, and 
 calculated to put the iron into the mind and to bring 
 it to rust there. 
 
 Solace came, however, from a strange quarter. For as 
 I tramped my cell those nights, with my body in pain, 
 and my mind in a storm, I suddenly sailed into quiet 
 seas, looking out on waters of tranquil harmony. The 
 change began by my attempting one night to recover 
 one of the melodies from Beethoven's Symphonies, and 
 to follow it through all its subsequent intricacies. Night 
 after night, then, I sought to bring back from the 
 chambers of memory all that they had stored of melody 
 and harmony, and melody breaking into harmony. I 
 went through all Beethoven's Symphonies in this way, 
 patiendy, persistently; and it was strange to note how 
 
 227
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 some of the motives most familiar to me would tease the 
 mind, just beyond the margin of recovery, and then flood 
 die brain like the vision of another world. I remember, 
 for example, for nearly a week seeking to recall that 
 perfect melody that Brahms, with so courageous a 
 gesture, gives to the 'cello to open a movement in his 
 Pianoforte Concerto, perfectly colouring it to that instru- 
 ment, sonorous and reposeful, and then, as it falls to a 
 close, awakening it on the pianoforte treble, crisp and 
 clear, before it passes in wave on wave, blended and 
 combining with the next succeeding theme, over the 
 whole orchestra. For nearly a week it defied me; and 
 then, when it was recovered, how blessed it was, with 
 how God-like a voice it breathed power and repose and 
 peacefulness ! 
 
 I remember my next-cell neighbour (the Gaelic writer 
 An Seabhac) asking me what I was doing, whistling half 
 the night. He asked me more in wonder than vexation. 
 But I whistled more softly thereafter. For the joy of my 
 nightly world was that none shared it with me. The 
 sniping from the rear had made me shy of my fellow- 
 men. 
 
 §3 
 The national result of the General Election, however, 
 was what chiefly mattered. And as I in gaol read the 
 list of persons returned to form the Dail Eireann (the 
 Assembly of Ireland) we had so long planned, knowing 
 most of them and hearing of others from my comrades, 
 it was plain that that assembly was to be less a house of 
 
 228
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 consideration than a regiment of battle. There was not 
 a member of it but would do his duty, whatever the 
 occasion; but most, of them would look to a few men to 
 know what that duty should be. The greater number 
 were members of the I.R.B. and of the Volunteers; and 
 this meant the very result that Arthur Griffith had 
 sought to avert. It meant a contest less for liberty than 
 for a name; it meant rigidity; and it meant the shock 
 of violence where violence might conceivably have been 
 avoided. 
 
 Over a year before, in the great struggle between 
 Arthur Griffitii and Cathal Brugha, this had been the 
 issue. Cathal Brugha, let me say quite candidly, had 
 had nothing to do with the skill by which the I.R.B. had 
 worked the Sinn Fein organization in the Election; there 
 was even some constraint between him and those who 
 controlled the I.R.B.; but he was resolute now to take 
 advantage of die occasion to have declared before the 
 world the reality that existed in his mind, the Republic 
 of Ireland. Circumstance had made him now the victor; 
 and the declaration of the Republic was a foregone deci- 
 sion by that very fact. 
 
 What this meant is important to note, especially in 
 the light of Griffith's prescience. Particularly it is im- 
 portant to note that the end to be gained was not in 
 question. For nobody doubted that at that time the 
 Irish people desired a republican form of government, 
 as a matter of political preference as well as a symbol 
 of freedom. The difference was on. of method, of 
 diplomatic and political wisdom, and of the retention of 
 the freedom of decision to the end, having regard to 
 
 229
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 changing circumstances; and it was in these matters that 
 Griffith's foresight was approved. 
 
 For two years our theme had been that Ireland should 
 claim before the Peace Conference her right to determine 
 her own form of Government. That claim had been in 
 tune with the professed ideals for which the European 
 War was being fought by the Allied Powers; and it was 
 peculiarly in tune v/ith die utterances of President Wilson, 
 utterances which rang through die world as the words of 
 no man have in history been known to ring, but quoted 
 in Ireland as though they had been devised to meet her 
 case. Two of these utterances had been made in the 
 closing stages of that war, on the 4th of July and on the 
 28th of September; and most of the speeches during the 
 Election in Ireland had been built out of this theme. 
 The return of national representatives in that Election 
 who repudiated the British Legislature, for which they 
 had by the law been elected, and the creation by them 
 of a National Assembly sitting in Ireland, ready to present 
 the national case before the nations sitting in Peace Con- 
 ference, ready also to make a frame of government for 
 the people of Ireland, carried the argument of two years 
 to a triumphant end, and put the Irish case diplomatically 
 in a position of great strength. 
 
 Yet that strength depended on one critical considera- 
 tion. It depended on the decision not being taken out of 
 the hands of the body to which the appeal was to be 
 made, but held in reserve lest that body declined to 
 attend to the case ready to be formulated. For hardly, 
 and only with difficulty, could Great Britain, one of the 
 most powerful and conspicuous members of that Con- 
 
 230
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 ference, object, to an ancient case being presented there, 
 as long as the decision had not already been taken in 
 Ireland before the appeal — as long as, indeed, judgment 
 had not been snatched from the assembly to which the 
 appeal was to be made. Such an objection could and 
 might, of course, have been made, but it would have 
 looked like fear of the result — and it is the first, duty 
 in diplomacy to stimulate an opponent's difficulties. 
 The mere appearance of Ireland there could not of it- 
 self have been interpreted as prejudicial to her, since 
 the case would, in that event, have still been under judg- 
 ment in a court of which she was a member. And, as 
 regards the court itself, the attitude of the appellant 
 would have been one of deference and respect: — an atti- 
 tude in all courts ever beloved. 
 
 On the other hand, to declare a Republic before pro- 
 ceeding to Paris would have been to snatch the very 
 judgment in hope of which the court was to be prayed. 
 It was, in fact, the policy of the accomplished fact; and 
 that policy, as every student of history knows, is only 
 possible with a first-class power of great strength, or with 
 a lesser power geographically difficult to strike. Even 
 then it is resented. No body, sitting presumably as a 
 court of investigation, and ostensibly acknowledged as 
 such, likes to be treated as a place where decisions, taken 
 outside its processes, may, if not must, be registered. It 
 is to ride atilt, not only against an abused diplomacy, but 
 even against a still more abused human nature. In 
 addition to this, it was to present the most interested 
 member of die court with the opportunity of saying to 
 his brethren that if Ireland were permitted audience, such 
 
 231
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 permission would be tantamount to a recognition of an 
 Irish Republic, and that any such recognition, without 
 inquiry, must be interpreted as an affront to Great 
 Britain. In that case, Ireland's very friends there, 
 supposing she had them, would be turned from defenders 
 into apologists — an unlucky and disastrous change — and 
 her chance of finding her way there at all to present a 
 case would be small indeed. How could she demand 
 inquiry into her case for independence when to hear her 
 at all meant the recognition of her as an independent 
 State? It was to present the Peace Conference (even if it 
 were a court of the most angelic impartiality) with an 
 impossible dilemma. 
 
 So my thoughts went to and fro in my cell in Durham 
 — as they have often gone to and fro since, in reflecting 
 whether our policy of that time could have been made 
 to yield a better result. It was clear (to me at least) that 
 if the lines of Griffith's policy had been followed, as they 
 had been accepted before our arrests, this impossible 
 dilemma would have been avoided. And according to 
 that policy, had the appeal to the Peace Conference failed 
 — heard or unheard — a Republic could still have been 
 declared. Such a declaration, following on a failure, 
 instead of preceding and creating it, and made while the 
 Conference was actually in session, would have made a 
 greater effect internationally; and the great value would 
 have been gained, that Ireland would have secured free- 
 dom of movement and of decision to the last moment. 
 No one knew Arthur Griffith but knew that it was for 
 this very freedom he had struggled — as he had, after 
 three years of warfare, to win it again by bringing the 
 
 232
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 nation back to the position in which he originally had 
 stood. But Griffith was in Gloucester Gaol; and Cathal 
 Brugha was in Dublin widi a Republic as clear before 
 his eyes as the sun in heaven; and Michael Collins had 
 got an Assembly of Ireland that could be trussed to 
 confirm die decisions of the Irish Republican Brother- 
 hood, and to endure all terrors in their defence. 
 
 §4 
 Thus it happened that the vital condition essential to 
 the success of Griffith's policy was thrown away. In the 
 first, place, the British Government had removed Griffith 
 himself, and all those who had been chosen with him by 
 the October Convention in support of his policy — includ- 
 ing Eamon de Valera, who at that time was content to 
 be guided by Griffith. In die second place, a further 
 purge had been made by those who now controlled the 
 I.R.B. — and through the I.R.B. controlled Sinn Fein; 
 by sending representatives to be present at all Sinn Fein 
 Conventions for the choice of candidates, arranging 
 identical dates for Conventions in different constituencies, 
 and giving each to believe that the name or names desired 
 by it were that day to be chosen by some other; and by 
 other adroit devices — with the result that a substantial 
 majority of the newly created national Parliament was 
 ready to move to the word of command. And that word 
 of command was predestined and inherent in the circum- 
 stances to be the instant declaration of the Republic. For 
 those who spake that word looked less to, and thought 
 less of, the nations in assembly dian the deliberate crea- 
 
 2 33
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 tion of disorder and the appeal to "physical force," as 
 the phrase then ran. 
 
 For this was the meaning of the news borne to us by 
 the papers that came from Ireland. They announced 
 that all the national representatives available had met in 
 solemn assembly as Dail Eireann in the Mansion House, 
 Dublin, on the 21st of January, 1919. The roll had been 
 called of the representatives returned in all Ireland, but 
 some of these were in gaol, and others, opposed to Sinn 
 Fein, whether of the old Parliamentary Party or Unionists 
 north and south, were absent. One of the few remaining 
 copies of the original published proceedings (entitled in 
 Irish, Irish Dail Eireann) lies before me as I write; and 
 there it appears that a brief temporary Constitution in 
 five articles was moved and adopted in Irish. The first 
 article declared that of the deputies elected by the Irish 
 people from the constituencies that then existed, Dail 
 Eireann should be constituted, with full powers to make 
 laws. The second created a Premier-Minister (not, be it 
 noted, a President : for the Irish word is Priomh-Aire, of 
 which the interpretation is Premier-Minister), and four 
 other Ministries — namely, for Finance, for Home 
 Affairs, for Foreign Affairs, and for Defence. The 
 second created a chairman of Dail Eireann, under the 
 name of Ceann Comhairle, meaning Head of the 
 Council, a name he still bears. The fourth made the 
 Minister for Finance strictly accountable, in manner 
 defined, to Dail Eireann. And the fifth declared this 
 Constitution to be of a temporary nature, stating the 
 procedure by which it might be changed. 
 
 All these things were wise and essential. But now 
 
 234
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 followed the famous Declaration of Independence — a 
 right and proper prelude to war, but not right (as I 
 thought) or proper as a prelude to an appeal to a World's 
 Congress. This declaration is generally referred to as 
 the declaration of the Republic; but the wording adopted, 
 in Irish, French, and English, speaks deliberately of the 
 ratification of die declaration of the Republic already 
 made as the prelude to the Easier Rising. 
 
 Let me, in candour, repeat that the misgiving in my 
 mind existed purely in regard to procedure, not in regard 
 to the end to be sought. In the mind of none of us at 
 that time (except, perhaps, Arthur Griffith) was there 
 question of the intention to establish a Republic. But 
 the next act of the Assembly was to appoint three Envoys 
 to lay die case of Ireland before the Peace Conference, 
 Eamon de Valera, Arthur Griffith, and Count Plunkett; 
 and how, I asked myself, would Envoys petition a Con- 
 gress to investigate the case made by their nation for 
 independence, when their mere reception would imply 
 that the Congress had already received them in the name 
 of an independent State, proclaimed and established? 
 
 Obviously, those who had decided on this procedure 
 had perceived this difficulty. This is manifest on the 
 face of the official " Proceedings." For the next act of 
 the Assembly was to adopt a " Message to the Free 
 Nations of the World"; and the first paragraph of this 
 ' message " read : ' The Nation of Ireland having pro- 
 claimed her national independence, calls through her 
 elected representatives in Parliament assembled in the 
 Irish capital on the 21st of January, 1919, upon every free 
 nation to support the Irish Republic by recognizing 
 
 2 35
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Ireland's national status and her right to its vindication 
 at the Peace Congress." The " message " then proceeded 
 to recite the arguments in favour of that recognition, and 
 appealed, not only on the inherent justice of the national 
 claim, but to the self-interest of other nations. And, so 
 framed, it was clearly an attempt to avert the difficulty 
 that had already been created; but, in spite of the great 
 dignity with which it was made, it could hardly hope to 
 succeed. For hardly would the free nations of the world 
 be expected to give their official recognition to an act so 
 hostile to a great Power like Great Britain, though they 
 might have been asked, reasonably and without prejudice, 
 to investigate a national claim — and that of itself would 
 have been a notable advance. 
 
 Therefore I was troubled. I was troubled personally 
 as well as nationally; for I had so often taken a different 
 line from my colleagues that I feared to do so again, 
 especially on so grave an issue, and especially when I had 
 so summarily been dismissed from position and responsi- 
 bility. Any action of that sort would leave them even 
 more deeply angered with me, and leave me even more 
 desolate, a pariah among politicals and an outcast among 
 friends. More profoundly than ever I regretted that I 
 had left my books, where at least a man's integrity could 
 remain inviolate. Honour, however, derives not from 
 circumstance or consideration; and honour dictated only 
 one possible course. The decision that had been taken 
 would lead assuredly into the thickest of difficulties, and 
 possibly into war; but it had been taken by a national 
 Parliament, properly elected by the people to undertake 
 all responsibility. We were all bound by it; I could do 
 
 236
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 no other than Stand by it and, whatever befell, uphold 
 it and serve it faithfully among the rank and file. And I 
 was resolved to give such service to the utmost of my 
 ability. 
 
 §5 
 
 Other causes of distress I had during these unfortunate 
 weeks. It will be recalled diat at this time the epidemic 
 known as poSt-war influenza raged in Europe, causing 
 many deaths; and after Christmas I learned that my wife 
 had fallen to it. I had not seen her since my arrest the 
 previous May; and as the days passed I learned that her 
 illness was so grave as to put her life in danger. I 
 applied, therefore, at once for parole; and the only result 
 of my application was to cause a detective in Dublin to 
 burst his way forcibly into her sick-room to discover 
 whether what I had said was true. But no parole was 
 granted; and as all letters from home had first to go to 
 London to be censored, at least three days intervened 
 before I could hear of her state. 
 
 Finally, towards the end of February I received a tele- 
 gram that, while she lay ill, my home had been burnt. 
 Again I applied for parole; and this time, as a fire was 
 too public a fact to be questioned, the parole was granted. 
 And thus I returned to Ireland. 
 
 A few days after my return I received a letter by 
 our secret post saying that the epidemic had broken out 
 in Durham Gaol, that the men had refused to be removed 
 to hospital, and lay in their cells. I was urged to make 
 the facts public in the Press. To do this meant to strain 
 the conditions of my parole, and to that extent to put it 
 
 237
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 in jeopardy; but it so chanced that the publicity was most 
 opportune. For news came that the epidemic had also 
 broken out in Gloucester Gaol, and that our men there 
 were being removed to a hospital outside the gaol, some 
 of them in peril of their lives. Publicity as to these facts, 
 accompanied by intimate details regarding the conditions 
 in die gaols, raised, therefore, the whole question of our 
 imprisonment, a question that, it had been thought, could 
 by iron silence be kept out of sight. 
 
 Afterwards I learned of an incident of the epidemic in 
 Gloucester Gaol that is worthy of record. For there the 
 leadership and direction had naturally fallen to Arthur 
 Griffith, and it was he who had caused the removal of 
 the sick men to a hospital outside the gaol, knowing that, 
 once they had so been removed, they could not be brought 
 back without rearrest. In the midst of this, however, he 
 himself fell ill. But he took prompt measures with his 
 illness. He got a bottle of quinine, and all one night, 
 whenever he awoke in fever, he took a " pull " (as he 
 himself described it to me) at his bottle. And in the 
 morning he found that the bottle was empty, and that 
 the epidemic had fled before his attack. 
 
 Others were not so fortunate. Before my parole had 
 expired the news came of the death of Piaras McCann. 
 And thus the prison gates were opened by the hand of a 
 dead man. For it was not possible, now, to hold men in 
 gaol, seeing that the hand of death had felt among them, 
 and the original cause of their arrests, unbelieved from 
 the first, had passed out of sight. Therefore, one morn- 
 ing, in the streets of Dublin, within a few hundred yards 
 three detectives (" G " men) stopped me to say that they 
 
 238
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 were intruded to inform me that I need not return to 
 Durham, that my parole was returned to me. I guessed 
 that this meant a general liberation, but as I would not 
 converse with them I could not ask them; and so I wrote 
 instead to Dublin Castle to say that unless the return of 
 my parole meant the freedom of all my colleagues I 
 declined to accept it, but would travel to Durham in two 
 days as I had originally intended to do. But my stiffness 
 of back was needless. On the morning of the day I had 
 resolved to return the first company of the liberated 
 prisoners arrived. They were headed by one of the most 
 lovable of all our comrades, Piaras McCann, a squire's 
 son from Tipperary, dead, in a coffin. Of that first 
 company was Arthur Griffith, and the following day the 
 rest arrived. And so ended the German Plot, which 
 opened with the intrigue of an English politician and 
 closed with the death of one of the noblest of men. 
 
 §6 
 
 On my return from gaol I had not visited our head- 
 quarters. Partly this was owing to my parole, by which 
 I was pledged to take no part in political action while in 
 Ireland, and which I kept even to that extreme. Partly 
 it was owing to the necessity of getting my home into 
 repair. But in no little measure it was due to an extreme 
 aversion to meeting any of the men now in control there. 
 The only one I had seen was Cathal Brugha, who had 
 sent me a message desiring me to see him. Him I had 
 seen at his house; and, though a man of few words, he 
 
 2 39
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 told me that he had seen what had been passing, but that 
 he had been powerless to change events. 
 
 It was at this meeting I saw for the first time the 
 personal hostility between him and Michael Collins that 
 was afterwards to bring Collins to the side of Arthur 
 Griffith, and to change the whole course of Irish history. 
 And, strange irony, when that happened I was found 
 fighting the batde of the Treaty beside Michael Collins, 
 while Cathal Brugha fought against us with all the 
 furious intensity of which his character was compact. 
 But I do not forget, and shall not forget, his gesture of 
 friendliness when I returned to Ireland shunning all my 
 colleagues. 
 
 Now, however, all the men were back from gaol, and 
 the first to come to see me was Arthur Griffith. By this 
 time I was back upon my literary work, and I was ill- 
 disposed to leave it again, even under his persuasion. It 
 is strange, and most pleasing, to reflect that I should have 
 held the friendship of both these men, in each of whom 
 so little of sympathy should exist for the other. Not only 
 did they contend against each other from opposite ends 
 of policy, but by temperament they mutually and com- 
 pletely repelled one another. Each of them, indeed, 
 found it difficult to make friendships at all. The more 
 pleasing, therefore, the more valuable, I found their hand 
 of friendship on this occasion. But when I went to head- 
 quarters with Griffith the attitude of those now in control 
 there was so hostile that I was not tempted to put my boat 
 again into those waters. 
 
 Within a few days, however, an event occurred that 
 brought us all again into the arena of conflict, and in- 
 
 240
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 deed nearly brought the country to a calamity. For at 
 that time Eamon de Valera was in hiding in Dublin. 
 Prior to the elections the previous December he had, 
 with Sean McGarry and Sean Milroy, escaped from 
 Lincoln. Since then he had been in hiding in England, 
 and about the time of the general liberation from gaol 
 he had secretly made his way into Ireland. The general 
 liberation, however, did not affect him; or at least it had 
 been assumed diat it did not affect him; and he had there- 
 fore continued in hiding in one of the suburbs of Dublin, 
 awaiting a favourable moment to emerge. And it was 
 decided to make that emergence a dramatic one, thereby 
 throwing a challenge in the face of Dublin Castle. 
 
 For on Saturday, the 22nd of March, the following 
 announcement appeared in the Press : 
 
 ' President de Valera will arrive in Ireland on Wednes- 
 day evening next, the 26th instant, and the Executive of 
 Dail Eireann will offer him a national welcome. It is 
 expected that the home-coming of de Valera will be an 
 occasion of national rejoicing, and full arrangements will 
 be made for marshalling the procession. The Lord 
 Mayor of Dublin will receive him at the gates of die 
 city, and will escort him to the Mansion House, where 
 he will deliver a message to the Irish people. All 
 organizations and bands wishing to participate in the 
 demonstration should apply to 6, Harcourt Street, on 
 Monday, die 24th instant, up to 6 p.m. 
 
 " H. BOLAND, 
 
 T. Kelly. 
 
 1 Hon. Sees. 
 
 Not since Queen Victoria had paid her State visit 
 to Dublin in 1900 had such a State entry at the gates 
 
 241 R
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 of the city been made. The present announcement there- 
 fore compelled a comparison with that event. It meant, 
 of course, that de Valera would enter as the official head 
 of an established and independent State. No one was, 
 therefore, surprised when Dublin was at once placarded 
 with an official Proclamation prohibiting all meetings 
 and processions in the city. 
 
 Thus was the challenge made, and thus was it 
 answered. If the original arrangements were continued, 
 undoubtedly blood would be shed; and not the blood 
 only of the Volunteers, who were prepared to undertake 
 that risk, but the blood of innocent citizens who would 
 go to the scene as sight-seers. The alternative was to with- 
 draw the decision to hold such a national reception, and 
 to make a further announcement to that effect. Neither 
 alternative was pleasant. Yet of the two, honour clearly 
 dictated the retraction of the announcement, for it would 
 have been criminal to have enticed crowds of sight-seers 
 to what might for them be a shambles. 
 
 Early on Monday morning a courier brought me a 
 summons stating that both Executives (the old Executive 
 that had been arrested, now at liberty, and the new Execu- 
 tive that had been elected in its place) were to meet at 
 once to consider the situation. So we met at noon, with 
 Arthur Griffith in the chair. I had not much desired to 
 go; but since I was there I was resolved to speak my 
 min 1 T ih^refore asked to see the minute of the Execu- 
 tive on which the Honorary Secretaries had based their 
 announcement, purporting to be official. After some 
 fencing it was elicited that there was no such minute, 
 and that the question had never come before the Execu- 
 
 242
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 tive. I therefore asked Alderman Tom Kelly on what 
 audiority he, as one of the signatories, had attached his 
 name as secretary; and he answered with characteristic 
 bluntness that, in point of fact, he had never seen the 
 announcement, and had not known of it, till he read it 
 in the Press. 
 
 Then, in the midst of the tangled discussion that fol- 
 lowed these disclosures, Michael Collins rose. Character- 
 istically, he swept aside all pretences, and said that the 
 announcement had been written by him, and that the 
 decision to make it had been made, not by Sinn Fein, 
 though declared in its name, but by " the proper body, 
 the Irish Volunteers." He spoke with much vehemence 
 and emphasis, saying that die sooner fighting was forced 
 and a general state of disorder created through the 
 country (his words in this connection are too well printed 
 on my memory ever to be forgotten), the better it would 
 be for the country. Ireland was likely to get more out of 
 a state of general disorder than from a continuance of the 
 situation as it then stood. The proper people to take 
 decisions of that kind were ready to face the British 
 military, and were resolved to force the issue. And they 
 were not to be deterred by weaklings and cowards. For 
 himself he accepted full responsibility for the announce- 
 ment, and he told the meeting with forceful candour tiiat 
 he held them in no opinion at all, that, in fact, they were 
 only summoned to confirm what the proper people had 
 decided. 
 
 He had always a truculent manner, but in such situa- 
 tions he was certainly candour itself. As I looked on 
 him while he spoke, for all the hostility between us, I 
 
 2 43
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 found something refreshing and admirable in his con- 
 tempt of us all. His brow was gathered in a thunderous 
 frown, and his chin thrust forward, while he emphasized 
 his points on the back of a chair with heavy strokes of 
 his hand. He was a great foeman when he fought thus 
 — a worthier foeman than when he manipulated organ- 
 izations. But, by his contempt of his audience, he had 
 touched the combative in Griffith. I had hardly begun 
 that if it were to be a weakling and coward to wish to 
 avert a shambles of unarmed citizens, caught between 
 two bodies of armed men, then I confessed myself both 
 weakling and coward with a certain measure of pride, 
 when Griffith rose to his feet. Tapping the table before 
 him with the pencil in his hand, he said that the decision 
 was one to be taken by the meeting there, and by no 
 other body. He himself was strongly opposed to the 
 arrangements that had been made, but he would accept 
 the decision of that meeting. He would not accept the 
 decision of any other body. 
 
 For two hours the debate raged fiercely, and 
 O'Connell's weakness at Clontarf was invoked to awe 
 those of us who desired the cancellation of the " occasion 
 of national rejoicing" — that looked as if it would turn 
 to an occasion of national mourning. Finally it was 
 decided that Griffith should see de Valera, and that he 
 should report the result of his interview to the meeting, 
 which stood adjourned till eight at night. In effect that 
 of itself was a decision, for Griffith was not the man to 
 return till, on a question so grave, he held the decision 
 his own judgment approved. And so it proved to be. 
 In the name of de Valera it was announced in the follovv- 
 
 244
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 ing morning's Press that the occasion was not one on 
 which he would call the people to incur any danger, and 
 that the public reception would therefore be abandoned. 
 The little part I played in this episode, however, filled 
 my pot of sins to the full, and we were approaching a 
 dread assembly of judgment. For on our releases a 
 new Convention (or Ard-Fheis) of Sinn Fein had been 
 summoned. At that Convention a new Officer Board was 
 to be elected, and the names of all the original officers, 
 who had been arrested the year before and those who 
 had acted in our place while we had been in gaol, were 
 to be put to its vote. 
 
 I was warned that the I.R.B. was resolved to give the 
 final stroke to my political extinction at this Convention. 
 Indeed no disguise of this intention was attempted, for 
 Boland warned me that I would soon be heard of no 
 more in Sinn Fein. I was also kept apprised of the 
 methods being adopted to secure this result, and they have 
 an interest more important than the merely transitory and 
 personal, for they reveal a movement that underlay much 
 of the dramatic happenings of the succeeding years, and 
 exhibit how easy it is to manipulate political organiza- 
 tions so as to make them, with all the appearance of 
 freedom and finality, the mere agents of skilful intrigue. 
 
 The method adopted in this case was to work through 
 those members of die Volunteers who were sworn 
 members of the I.R.B. and held important commands in 
 their areas. These were called to Dublin, and were 
 instructed to see that their men secured appointment as 
 delegates to the Convention, and, as most of the elder 
 men during the past year had either stepped aside or had 
 
 245
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 been put aside, this was easy to do. All these tickets 
 were then collected, and the Sunday before the Conven- 
 tion were brought to Dublin, a Gaelic Athletic Associa- 
 tion meeting being held on that day to give occasion for 
 their journey. Those who remained for the Convention 
 on the Tuesday acted as delegates, though few of them 
 were members of the Cumainn they purported to repre- 
 sent; the tickets of the others were transferred to members 
 of the Brotherhood living in Dublin. And to them all 
 typed instructions how to vote v/ere given. 
 
 One of those who received these instructions afterwards 
 described the procedure to me. On arrival at the Mansion 
 House, as desired by the Brotherhood, on the morning 
 of the Convention, he was shown into a separate room. 
 There a number of others were already present, and were 
 being given delegates' tickets from a large pile on a table 
 by a prominent member of the Brotherhood who now 
 holds high command in the Army. In his turn he, 
 too, was given a ticket with a typed paper containing 
 instructions. These instructions he did not observe, and 
 no doubt there were others who exercised their own 
 judgments. But as I sat with the Praesidium looking 
 down at the Convention, it was obvious to anyone who 
 knew the movement in Dublin that only a small 
 percentage of it consisted of delegates from the country. 
 One of the members of the Praesidium (it happened to 
 be the very person whom Arthur Griffith had chosen to 
 ask the question concerning the secret voting "list" at 
 the Convention of October, 191 7) came to my side in great 
 indignation to say that of his personal knowledge he 
 recognized the mass of those present as men who lived in 
 
 246
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 Dublin, members of the I.R.B. and the Volunteers, not 
 members of Sinn Fein, but rather holding Sinn Fein and 
 all its political doings in steady contempt. 
 
 Beyond doubt, great organization and tireless energy 
 were required to produce this result. It was the negation 
 of all freedom, of course, and utterly corrupt, but it was 
 completely successful. Incidentally, also, it strangled 
 Sinn Fein, for from this moment it began to decline 
 until it finally disappeared two years later. This was but 
 natural, for the strength of Sinn Fein was that it gathered 
 together and expressed the mind of a people, and when 
 it became merely the register for a little group of men, 
 it was withdrawn from its constituents, from its life, 
 rather, and fell into decay. But at the time the intrigue 
 carried all before it. So far as it affected myself, the vote 
 I received was insignificant, and Harry Boland took my 
 place as Honorary Secretary, with Austin Stack, another 
 of the same group, as colleague. 
 
 As I left the great hall, the Convention over, I was 
 suddenly stopped by a strange sight. Behind one of the 
 statues with which it is surrounded stood Michael Collins 
 and Harry Boland. Their arms were about one another, 
 their heads bowed on one another's shoulders, and diey 
 were shaking with laughter. They did not see me. 
 Their thoughts were with their triumph. Little any of 
 us knew, then, that in three years both these two men, 
 locked in one another's arms sharing a common triumph, 
 would lie dead, each slain by the other's agents. Who 
 will say that Life, and Time for servant, are not master- 
 ironists, pitiless in their mockery? 
 
 247
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 §7 
 In the meantime the international scene was being set 
 for failure. The problem was, how to get our 
 Plenipotentiaries to Paris. For it was certain that the 
 British Government would not issue passports for them. 
 Not easily could it have, with dignity, refused had envoys 
 been appointed to pray investigation into Ireland's case 
 for independence, but when those envoys, by the terms 
 of their appointment, claimed to act as Plenipotentiaries 
 of an existing, independent republic, not one nation could 
 demur to the refusal of passports by Great Britain. Nor 
 could such Plenipotentiaries, in dignity, attempt to get 
 to Paris otherwise than publicly. The problem seemed 
 unanswerable. But it happened that chance was kind. 
 
 For in December, 1918, President Woodrow Wilson 
 had visited England, and had been accorded public re- 
 ceptions in leading English cities. At once the Dublin 
 Corporation invited him to Ireland. Whether that invita- 
 tion was stopped in the post or was inconvenient to 
 acknowledge will probably never be known, but it was 
 not answered, and President Wilson proceeded to Paris 
 without coming to Ireland. It was stated in his behalf 
 that no such invitation was ever received by him, and the 
 Dublin Corporation, expressing its sorrow at this un- 
 fortunate circumstance, resolved to send one of its 
 members to Paris to convey personally to the President its 
 felicitations and affection. For this purpose Councillor 
 Scan T. O'Kelly was chosen. Now Sean T. O'Kelly 
 was a member of Dail Eireann, and its Chairman withal. 
 
 248
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 As an envoy from a statutory body like the Dublin Cor- 
 poration he could hardly be denied passports. Indeed, 
 such a denial would be a discourtesy to President Wilson. 
 But, once in Paris, that envoy, with diplomatic skill and 
 wisdom, could have done much to advance the case of 
 Ireland there. 
 
 Unhappily, that skill and wisdom were wanting. As 
 the messenger of affection and felicitations from so august. 
 a body as the Dublin Corporation President Wilson must, 
 have seen Sean T. O'Kelly, and the matters discussed at 
 such a meeting lay within the ambit of an envoy's adroit- 
 ness. Instead of this the envoy's first act on arrival in 
 Paris was to say no more of die Dublin Corporation (his 
 best, indeed his only, cover), but to write a pompous 
 letter to the President, asserting that he was there as 
 Plenipotentiary of the Irish Republic. That letter, I 
 remember, was sent the week before the liberation of the 
 prisoners, and it brought dismay to some of us. For it 
 was now certain that President Wilson could not meet the 
 envoy from Ireland. To have done so would have meant, 
 in the first place, recognition of the official character in 
 which he described himself; and in the second place, 
 would have implied collusion with him in getting his 
 passport in one capacity and using it solely in another 
 capacity. 
 
 A great opportunity was thus thrown away. There- 
 fore George Gavan Duffy was sent after Sean T. O'Kelly 
 to help with his greater experience and knowledge of 
 affairs. Gavan Duffy had, until 1916, had a considerable 
 practice as a lawyer among French clients, and it was 
 as a student of French law that he received his passports. 
 
 249
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Both these men remained on the Continent as official 
 representatives of the Irish Republic until the Truce was 
 signed in Dublin in July, 1921. 
 
 Other help, however, was coming. In February an 
 Irish Race Convention was held in Philadelphia, U.S.A., 
 to urge that President Wilson should espouse the cause 
 of Ireland at Paris, and at this Convention a committee 
 of three persons was appointed to assist the Irish 
 Plenipotentiaries in their presentation of the case there. 
 These three men were Frank P. Walsh, who had during 
 the war acted with William Howard Taft as co-Chairman 
 of the American Labour Board, Edward F. Dunne, some- 
 time Governor of Chicago, and Michael J. Ryan. They 
 were a powerful delegation, and they came to Ireland on 
 their way to Paris. Here they received a remarkable 
 welcome, large crowds following them everywhere. They 
 attended a public session of Dail Eireann, and the British 
 military provided them with some striking scenes that 
 could not but give point to their plea when at length 
 they arrived in Paris. On several occasions, indeed, they 
 came into conflict with the military, and, though this 
 was undoubtedly an educative experience, it was not cal- 
 culated to be helpful in Paris, in spite of the skill, tact, 
 and dignity with which they, out of their knowledge of 
 public affairs, always negotiated such situations. 
 
 It was therefore a little pathetic to note the avidity with 
 which the Committee was received everywhere in Ireland. 
 It is certain that whatever men could do, these men would 
 do. They were, besides, men of great experience in public 
 affairs — one of them, Frank P. Walsh, being a man of 
 great force, eloquence, and ability, one who impressed 
 
 250
 
 THE DECLARATION OF THE REPUBLIC OF IRELAND 
 
 us all as built of exceptional timber. But it was already 
 obvious that the initial blunder could not be remedied. 
 And every speech the members of the American Com- 
 mittee made, honourably endorsing the existent inde- 
 pendent Irish Republic, only made their own difficulties 
 greater, and every conflict with the British military only 
 gave them a heavier burden to carry. 
 
 So it proved. Already in May it had become clear 
 that we must think and plan for what should be done 
 when failure, inwardly evident, should become outwardly 
 patent. But that did not come till the American Com- 
 mittee in Paris had done its work, and the famous Lansing 
 Note had been received. In that Note the American 
 Secretary of State stated decisively that the American 
 Delegation to the Peace Congress did not intend to inter- 
 fere in what it deemed to be the private affair of Great 
 Britain. So ended in failure all the careful plans that 
 had been made during two years. So fell the brave 
 structure of hopes that had been built. 
 
 The news, when it came, was not nice. De Valera, 
 I think, felt it most keenly. He certainly showed it most 
 keenly. For others of us anticipation had already blunted 
 the sharp edge of our disappointment. On the Saturday 
 night following, at a presentation that was made to 
 Arthur Griffith at the Mansion House, he revealed his 
 disappointment in a speech of gloomy foreboding. During 
 the next week the whisper passed through Dublin that 
 the night after his speech he had left Ireland on his way 
 to America. 
 
 251
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 §i 
 
 I AM sure that when Eamon de Valera decided in 
 June, 1919, on reading the Lansing Note, to go at 
 once to America, he did so consciously believing that 
 that course was the most practical amid the difficulties 
 that thickened at the time — though I also do believe that 
 he unconsciously reacted from facing those difficulties in 
 Ireland. But not all is practical that appears so, and a 
 good deal less is practical than says so, and what the eye 
 sees may only be the skirts of a problem almost passed, 
 vanquished, or triumphant. For this reason the most 
 distant vision often begets the most immediate wisdom, 
 for it is not the cure of that which has passed or is 
 passing that is critical, but the cure of that which has 
 yet to come. 
 
 America was important, not only because of the great 
 Irish population there (though most people in Ireland 
 naturally thought only of this), but because Americans, 
 more than most other peoples, were ready to be quickened 
 to the kind of interest that Ireland needed. Indeed, that 
 kind of interest was exerted in Ireland's behalf more 
 powerfully than is commonly recognized, and official 
 archives hold the secret how great an influence that 
 
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 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 interest was in bringing about the Treaty of 1921. But 
 there were abler men than he already at that work — men 
 of experience in public affairs, men who knew the factors 
 and conditions in the States, men who had put aside old 
 feuds and had built an Irish unity there unlike anything 
 that the past, had seen. A visitor from Ireland holding 
 de Valera's position could, to be sure, have stirred up a 
 vast enthusiasm, for that was never difficult to do. But 
 a vast enthusiasm is as often an effectual way of stopping 
 practical work as it is a hopeful way of beginning 
 it. For a pent public emotion must find some outlet, 
 and if it is not allowed to explode in enthusiasm it may 
 set something in motion, but if it explode the energy is 
 wasted. So there were even dangers in a visit. 
 
 But however important America, Ireland, where the 
 difficulties had so grievously thickened, was the place 
 where destiny had to be decided; and the consequence of 
 Eamon de Valera's secret journey was that the guidance 
 of the nation during the next critical year and a half 
 fell to Arthur Griffith. It could not have come to better 
 hands. Every quality of his was suited to that tremendous 
 occasion; and none will ever be able to estimate what, as 
 Acting President, his mere presence at the head of affairs 
 meant during that time. The fitness was too complete 
 for its value to be measured; and the mind, therefore, can 
 only appreciate a Tightness that occurred, without being 
 able to calculate the greatness of its public service. There 
 was nothing spectacular about it, for there was nothing 
 spectacular about the man. There was little about it on 
 which the imagination could lay hold. It was silent and 
 undemonstrative, having no need of eloquence because of 
 
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 its sufficiency. Of itself it was a sufficient table on which 
 to write his fame. 
 
 His steadiness and unbreakableness were a rock on 
 which the people leaned in the worst of the storm. My 
 work during these years put me in touch with folk in 
 many parts of the country, when it seemed, often, that 
 the people must break before the attacks made on them; 
 and I remember his name being spoken always as a sign 
 of their trust. The spectacular might have uplifted them, 
 to let them fall when it was no longer available; but his 
 steadiness gave them steadiness; and his acknowledged 
 power of endurance gave them hope, bringing them 
 strength also to endure. His qualities were the very 
 qualities of which they themselves stood most in need; 
 and thus he became the symbol of national resistance 
 with a peculiar fitness. 
 
 It was the same within the immediate circle of his 
 associates. When Eamon de Valera left for America 
 Dail Eireann was somewhat sharply divided. Only the 
 intervention of the British Government, in proclaiming 
 all public sessions of that body, masked a division that 
 was perhaps inevitable in the circumstances. The very 
 creation of an Executive had created an opposition; and 
 an attempt was made, during the secret sessions of this 
 summer, to broaden responsibility by putting the chief 
 heads of executive control (or attempt at control, where 
 Dublin Castle held a complete and elaborate machinery 
 of control) into the care of special committees. The pro- 
 posal was an impracticable one; but it had at least this 
 much of justification, that those who pressed it desired 
 that Dail Eireann should be consulted as to decisions 
 
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 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 about to be taken in its name. They were not content, 
 for example, to hear from persons in the city, in touch 
 with I.R.B. circles, that Eamon de Valera had gone to 
 America, leaving Ireland in the thickest of difficulties, 
 when they had been elected to responsibility for just such 
 decisions. Nor were they content to let the responsibility 
 for the failure at Paris go un searched. And the proposal 
 they put forward, impracticable though it was (since 
 control by Committee is no control at all), was their 
 attempt to bring within their sight decisions in which 
 they were seldom consulted, and some of which, they 
 believed, were not taken by the Executive of Dail Eireann 
 at all, but by the I.R.B. 
 
 Such was the internal situation that Griffith had to face; 
 and he faced it and brushed aside dissension with brief 
 and masterly authority. He did not spare blunt words — 
 he seldom spared blunt words — but he made it evident 
 that he did not speak them for the personal satisfaction of 
 speaking them, and still less because he had lost control 
 of himself. He never turned to personalities, or bent to 
 abuse, or left a sting in memory. He spoke with absolute 
 unconcern of the person; spoke in the fewest words in 
 which his judgment could be contained; and pursued un- 
 flinchingly the end he had determined. But, always, he 
 strove earnestly, without surrender to any, to hold all 
 sides together in unity. And he succeeded — succeeded as 
 other men with greater amiability, and with less of a 
 resolute will of their own would not have done. He 
 won his opponents in the end by his character, not by 
 indecision or by bending to them. 
 
 I remember speaking with several of those who 
 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 attempted to bring about the change. Particularly I 
 remember the deputy who had put forward the motion 
 containing the proposal. After the defeat of his motion 
 he thought of resigning the responsibility the electors 
 had placed on him (a course from which I earnestly 
 dissuaded him); but in Griffith's own entire disinterested- 
 ness he had nothing but trust. That trust, incidentally, 
 was one of meaning, for the marks of his opponent's 
 strokes were fresh upon him. That was some time in 
 July. We spoke again at the end of that year, when his 
 opposition had been silenced. No man, he said, could 
 have accomplished what Griffith had that year accom- 
 plished, turning a divided Dail into a united assembly, 
 by his willingness always to annul himself, without, how- 
 ever, once consenting to the annulment of his purpose or 
 intention. The basis of his earlier criticisms, he told me, 
 remained, but he would do nothing to make Griffith's 
 task more difficult than occasion had already made it. 
 
 §2 
 
 Indeed, the difficulty of Arthur Griffith's position, as 
 the head of a State that bravely protested its separate 
 existence, and was now required to make good that pro- 
 testation by the creation of Government, was formidable 
 enough. From my reading of history I do not recall a 
 parallel to the responsibility that was now laid on him, 
 so strange was it, so hedged with problems rising high 
 above him, so set with snares on either hand. For the 
 Executive of which he was the chief, having been called 
 a Government, had now to function as such in a country 
 
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 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 where another Government existed, with intricate depart- 
 ments fully starred, with a long history behind them, and 
 with an army of some 50,000 men, equipped with all the 
 panoply of modern war behind them to enforce their 
 administration, whereas his administration had no staffs, 
 no tradition, no experience, no army well equipped, 
 nothing but what could be fashioned anew with the 
 support of a consenting people, whose consent had to be 
 carried at every stage if disaster was not to occur, and 
 with whom, therefore, education and propaganda had to 
 march front by front with the creation of administrative 
 departments. 
 
 Truly this was a formidable task, of itself enough to 
 daunt the most indomitable courage. Yet this was not 
 all — and perhaps it was not even the greater part of — 
 his difficulty. Justice and candour compel the memory 
 that Arthur Griffith was now the head of an Executive, 
 the most powerful members of which had opposed him, 
 and worked against him consistently by every available 
 method for over two years. 
 
 I knew him well enough, meeting him daily and in 
 quick sympathy with him, to feel that there were often 
 occasions when he agreed rather with his critics, when 
 they pressed for knowledge as to what was happening, 
 than with his colleagues, who withheld it from them, 
 and often enough from him. Feeling his difficulty, I 
 never spoke of these matters to him of my own instance; 
 and he very rarely spoke of them with me. When he 
 did speak, it was generally to ask an opinion; and when 
 the opinion was given, he would generally remain for a 
 long time in silent thought before we turned to speak of 
 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 other matters. Without fantasy one may say that we 
 conversed as much by silences as by words; and though 
 this was always true of him, it was particularly true at 
 this time; and I knew far more confidently than by the 
 communication of words that he was troubled to dis- 
 cover where the nation was being led beyond his sight, 
 and to an extent beyond his control. Some of us used 
 to meet nearly every night in the ordinary way of com- 
 panionship; but he always desired that he and I should 
 meet for tea together before this; and I think that a 
 stranger watching us unobserved would have found con- 
 siderable amusement from the spectacle of two men sit- 
 ting together for a couple of hours, and often not 
 exchanging half a dozen sentences apiece during all 
 that time. 
 
 In later days, when the Treaty was signed and division 
 had absolved him from the obligation of silence, he turned 
 back to these times; and then I learned from his words, 
 what his silence had already conveyed to me with absolute 
 conviction, that he had disapproved of many things done 
 during this time, decisions taken beyond his knowledge, 
 some of which he only learned when he read of them in 
 die Press. Eamon de Valera's journey to America, and 
 his assumption there of the Presidency of the Irish Re- 
 public, for which there had been no election, and for 
 which no authority existed, were matters to which he 
 made special reference. 
 
 Yet at that time he always stood sturdily by his 
 colleagues, with the infinite patience that was one of 
 the chief constituents of his strength. I have said before 
 that loyalty was the first law of his nature; and it was 
 
 258
 
 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 never so perfectly seen as during these months; for it was 
 loyalty with men who were enforcing a policy on him 
 with which he did not agree. They were preparing for 
 war, believing this course tc be necessary and proper, 
 whereas he did not believe war to be either necessary 
 or proper. For nearly twenty years his ideal had been 
 the organization of passive resistance, an ideal now the 
 more greatly strengthened that there was a putative 
 national State about which that resistance could be 
 rallied. It is idle to consider whether war was necessary 
 or whether passive resistance would not have won its way 
 to the same end — idle, because the past is past. But it is 
 not idle to remember that he held his ground firmly, 
 knowing that beyond his knowledge preparations were 
 being taken for violent methods; and that he was pre- 
 pared at all times to work for unity, even to the sub- 
 mission of himself and his plans, in order that the nation 
 might face the future, and all that it might bring, with 
 the high courage born of conscious unity. 
 
 ;< Sinn Fein," he said before the Ard-Fheis, of the 
 autumn of that year — an Ard-Fheis scattered by the 
 police — " is not a party. It is a national composition. 
 If it is a party at all, it is a composite party. No parts 
 of that composition may claim its own individual pro- 
 gramme until the national ideal of freedom has first been 
 attained. Then we may press forward our separate ideals. 
 Until then we must sink ourselves that the nation may 
 gain from our unity." 
 
 These were words wrought from his deepest medita- 
 tion, expressing a thought fashioned in the long silences 
 that had become habitual to him. For he knew (he could 
 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 not but have known) what was being prepared; and he 
 knew that he was powerless to prevent it; and he accepted 
 it as his simple duty to rally all sections together to face it. 
 
 §3 
 Following upon the establishment of Dail Eireann as 
 the national Parliament, and the declaration of the Irish 
 Republic, the title and standing of the Irish Volunteers 
 were changed. Since that body had been founded in the 
 autumn of 1913 it had been responsible to no authority 
 other than its own elected Executive. Now, however, 
 the Irish Volunteers as such ceased to exist, and the 
 organization became instead the Irish Republican Army. 
 It is significant of the independence that the Volunteers 
 had always asserted that in the late spring or early 
 summer of that year, 1919, they held a special Conven- 
 tion to consider whether they should accept the change, 
 and submit to the authority of Dail Eireann. There were 
 some who doubted the desirability of the change, who 
 believed that the Volunteers should pursue their own 
 ends in collaboration with, but independently of the 
 authority of, Dail Eireann. I have sometimes wondered, 
 indeed, whether that submission would have been gained 
 but for the high authority of Eamon de Valera. In the 
 end, however, as the result of the firm stand he took on 
 that question, the Volunteers (with hesitancies by some, 
 and with reservations by others) became the Irish Re- 
 publican Army, directly responsible to Dail Eireann, 
 through the Minister for Defence appointed with the 
 consent of that assembly. 
 
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 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 In actual fact, however, it was not Dail Eireann that 
 controlled the Irish Republican Army, but the army that 
 controlled the Dail by creating a situation that of itself 
 put the Dail to one side and put the army into power. 
 For a sign of the change Dail Eireann, as the months 
 passed, met less and less frequently, and was less and less 
 thought of, while the army held the field, and the letters 
 I.R.A. came more and more into prominence, until at 
 last, they became the very symbol of revolt. Indeed, the 
 conditions of war finally became such — war in street and 
 field, with spies on either side like a hundred eyes every- 
 where — that it was seldom possible for Dail Eireann to 
 assemble; and the Executive Council of the I.R.A. was 
 able to compel a situation in which its decisions reached 
 further in their influence than the decisions of the Execu- 
 tive of the State. 
 
 This lay in the future, of course, and did not affect, 
 the year 1919, of which I am writing; but it is necessary 
 to look ahead in order to see with what care the ground 
 was being prepared during this year. For 1919 was the 
 year in which the I.R.A. was, with great skill and no 
 little subtlety, fencing for position : gathering munitions 
 and perfecting its organization, on the one hand; and, 
 on the other, preparing the public mind for what was to 
 come. And, in view of the strong opposition of policy 
 and personality that for years had existed between the 
 two men, it is striking to remember that, whereas Arthur 
 Griffith, as Acting President, was the head of the State, 
 Cathal Brugha, as Minister for Defence, was the head of 
 the I.R.A. 
 
 Early in that year, in fact, the fencing for position had 
 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 begun; for in March an attack was suddenly made on the 
 aerodrome at Collinstown, Co. Dublin, and a number of 
 arms and munitions seized and borne successfully away. 
 For a long time after this nothing so sinking was again 
 attempted, but smaller raids for arms were from time to 
 time reported from every part of the country. These 
 were at first confined to private houses; but soon isolated 
 barracks of the Royal Irish Constabulary began to be 
 attacked. 
 
 Great subtlety was shown in this, for feeling had been 
 stirred against the R.I.C., and demands had been made 
 that members of that force, as Irishmen, should resign 
 a hostile service and take their place with the rest of their 
 people. Soldiers of the British Army, however, were re- 
 garded as men who were simply doing their duty, and 
 the public mind was not ready at that time to accept with 
 any enthusiasm the thought of hostilities with the British 
 Army. Therefore the R.I.C. was chosen for a beginning, 
 and all that year constant propaganda was maintained 
 against that force. The two things played together. The 
 civil action was conducted by Sinn Fein under the title 
 of the " social ostracization of the R.I.C," and this pre- 
 pared the public mind for armed attacks on R.I.C. 
 barracks. Where in many country districts and towns 
 people declined to sit at Mass in the same pews as the 
 R.I.C, however thronged churches might be, and 
 while news came from all over the country of peelers 
 resigning from the force and being acclaimed as national 
 heroes, it was not difficult for the I.R.A. to attack this 
 armed branch of the British forces with the entire consent 
 of the people. And in this way the people's minds were 
 
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 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 being prepared for a much larger and more ambitious 
 campaign. 
 
 The ground was well chosen, and the gains were many. 
 The first, gain was that the civil work of the R.I.C. 
 practically ceased. They became an armed force purely, 
 and so the various departments that relied on the force 
 for information or administration found it impossible to 
 function as before, and it became not only possible, but 
 even imperative, for the Republican Government to con- 
 sider setting up rival departments in their stead. The 
 second gain, from the point of view of those who planned 
 this campaign, was that the people were being attuned to 
 the thought of the appeal to armed force. The third gain 
 was, the R.I.C. were steadily withdrawn from all isolated 
 barracks and concentrated in the larger, more central 
 barracks, leaving large tracts of country to be controlled 
 and policed completely by the I.R.A. And the last gain 
 was that arms were captured and distributed to put the 
 I.R.A. on a war footing. 
 
 The fruit of these things were not to be seen till early 
 in 1920, but it is important to remember that the work 
 itself was persistently accomplished, little by little and 
 week by week, during 19 19. When I say that it was 
 done as the result of a deliberate plan I must not be 
 understood to mean that its consequences were all so 
 clearly foreseen as they now may be reviewed. Not so 
 presciently does human nature work. The plan was 
 nevertheless deliberate. The management of public 
 opinion was accomplished simply by avoiding anything 
 that might too suddenly outrage it, and the withdrawal 
 of the British Government to its central stations was 
 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 accomplished by attacking it where it was weakest, in 
 outlying police barracks. The consequence was that the 
 more ambitious plans of 1920 became possible because 
 of the skilled fencing for position in 1919, and the appeal 
 to armed force and the challenge to war were put beyond 
 human power to change or recall. For long Arthur 
 Griffith had fought against this very thing, and now, 
 being at the head of the State, he was required to be its 
 chief defender. 
 
 u 
 
 For myself, during these months of summer in 1919, 
 I had established a weekly journal entitled The 
 Republic. I had earnestly considered keeping steadfastly 
 away from all politics, but when it became apparent, as 
 it soon did to one who had learned to read the strategy 
 of the moves on the board, where the country was being 
 headed, to what difficult and dangerous places, it seemed 
 that to stand aside at such a moment would be very 
 cowardice and faithlessness. 
 
 In June I had been elected by the Ard-Chomhairle (the 
 High Council) of Sinn Fein to a seat on the Standing 
 Committee, and in the same month I started my paper. 
 The change was striking, for great is the power of 
 the printed page. Some, of whose friendship I had 
 not till then been aware, gathered about, and desired 
 that the paper should be made the centre of an opposition. 
 It had not, however, been started to harass, but to help 
 Arthur Griffith, especially by bringing attention to bear 
 on the constructive work that it had always been his 
 
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 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 desire to further, and to that purpose it held during its 
 brief life. 
 
 In the meantime Griffith had been pressing forward 
 his own plans. For years by pen and speech he had 
 advocated the development of the unused natural 
 resources of the nation and the enunciation of a national 
 system of economics. He was a convinced disciple of the 
 school of Friedrich List, and he had urged that what 
 List, had done for Germany should be done for Ireland. 
 It was the quality of his mind that when he accepted the 
 general Tightness of a doctrine he avowed that doctrine 
 in all its details, and perhaps there are not many who 
 would be prepared to support the unreserved advocacy he 
 gave to all parts of List's book, or would love the picture 
 he often painted of an industrialized Ireland. In our 
 discussions in Reading Gaol on the course of lectures he 
 delivered there on that theme, some, I remember, had 
 expressed strong disagreement with him. Yet, generally 
 when he thought he was expounding List he was in 
 fact expounding himself — a much more interesting thing 
 to do. His faith was that Ireland should frame a political 
 economy for herself, adapted to her own needs, derived 
 from her own special circumstances, and depend upon and 
 develop her own resources for the maintenance of her 
 own population by the building of industries that would 
 make her less dependent on outside markets. 
 
 An opportunity had now come to put his faith to the 
 proof. It was, of course, not possible to develop national 
 resources, to build industries, and to frame a national 
 economic policy while another Government had first to be 
 driven from the field. But it was possible to direct the 
 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 people's attention to these objects. Therefore, in one of 
 the secret sessions of Dail Eireann, on the 18th of June, he 
 proposed a motion, which was seconded by Terence 
 MacSwiney : " That a Select Commission be appointed 
 to inquire into the natural resources and the present con- 
 dition of manufacturing and productive industries in 
 Ireland, and to consider and report by what means those 
 natural resources may be more fully developed, and how 
 those industries may be encouraged and extended." 
 
 So was established the " Commission of Inquiry into 
 the Resources and Industries of Ireland," the work of 
 which was to run side by side with the fury of war during 
 the next two years. It was a remarkable body. Indeed 
 everything about it was remarkable. It was established 
 by a revolutionary Government, and its establishment 
 was the first act of a constructive character done by that 
 Government. Yet it was composed of persons who did 
 not necessarily believe in the political faith of, or the claims 
 made by, that Government. Invitations were extended 
 to leading manufacturers, men of commerce, and men of 
 science in the country, and though some of these declined 
 to serve, believing that no good grapes could grow from 
 such vines, or that service in such a vineyard would but 
 bring them trouble, and perhaps danger, others accepted 
 the invitation who would have declined to be numbered 
 among republicans, some of whom had, in fact, opposed 
 Sinn Fein as a political party. 
 
 By its terms of reference, moreover, this Commission 
 
 266
 
 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 was no ordinary Commission appointed to examine a 
 specific problem and to present a specific solution. These 
 terms were contained in the resolution of the 18th of 
 June by the adoption of which the Commission was 
 created, and that resolution meant an economic inquiry 
 of the deepest, and widest, kind, the subjects to be taken, 
 in the order in which they were to be taken, being left to 
 the Commission itself, all those subjects to be considered 
 as parts of a co-related whole. The Commission was, 
 indeed, to be not less than a National Economic Council, 
 every separate report of which had to be related to reports 
 on other allied and cognate questions lying to right and 
 left of itself. It is the common experience of Commissions 
 appointed to report on specific subjects that their reports 
 involve disturbance of such other questions, and that it 
 is not within their competence or responsibility to decide 
 whether such disturbance is justified. But this Com- 
 mission had, by its terms of reference, within each report 
 to accept responsibility for the effect of its recommenda- 
 tions on other reports which it either had already made 
 or had yet to make. 
 
 This enlarged responsibility was dictated by the 
 exigencies of the time and occasion, but the method it 
 implied is clearly a right one, and it leads to an interesting 
 question, not proper to be pursued here, whether a 
 National Economic Council is not a right and necessary 
 institution in every efficiently organized State. The same 
 exigencies, moreover, enlarged the responsibilities in 
 other ways also. For, to anticipate a little, at the first 
 formal meeting of the Commission on the 21st of 
 September, Arthur Griffith himself opened the proceed- 
 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 ings, and slated that it was the intention of his Govern- 
 ment that the Commission should be regarded as "a 
 responsible, autonomous and independent body." This 
 meant that the Commission was in effect, to be, in an 
 advisory non-executive capacity, the national authority to 
 which all economic matters were first, to be referred in 
 order that they might be fitted into a coherent framework 
 of policy. Afterwards difficulties arose in regard to the 
 interpretation of these words. I merely mention them 
 now as a sign of his thinking on these matters, for it was 
 his faith that advice on economic matters should not be 
 crossed and confused with passing political issues, but 
 should be framed by a competent body taking review of 
 all the true and permanent factors of the national life. 
 He desired in such matters the same kind of continuity 
 and purpose that most nations give only to their foreign 
 policies, and he particularly desired this detachment and 
 coherency at that time, because it was clear that national 
 politics were soon to be straightened out into the simple 
 case of war and bloodshed. 
 
 Of this Commission of Inquiry I was invited by him, 
 on behalf of his Government, to become the secretary. 
 He explained that it was the intention of the Government 
 that the Commission should elect its own chairman, but 
 that the secretary should be appointed by the Govern- 
 ment, and that the Commission should be held responsible 
 to the Government through him. 
 
 The offer was a tempting one, for it gave an unrivalled 
 opportunity of inquiry into the whole range of national 
 economics — an opportunity, indeed, of a kind to be 
 coveted in any country, but peculiarly in Ireland, a virgin 
 
 268
 
 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 field for developmental and constructive inquiry. Yet I 
 hesitated, for I had my paper, into which all my posses- 
 sions had gone, to consider. That difficulty, however, 
 was soon decided summarily by the British Government. 
 
 The offer was made to me some time in August, and at 
 that time Michael Collins, as Minister for Finance, was 
 busy arranging for the issue of a Republican loan, in the 
 form of Dail Bonds, to be offered both in Ireland and 
 America. From the subscription to this loan the work 
 of the Republican Government was to be financed. How 
 many of those who subscribed ever expected their money 
 to be returned I do not know, but feeling was now 
 running high, and it was known, as the event proved, 
 that the people in Ireland were willing to subscribe 
 generously to the support of the Government they had 
 elected. The difficulty was to let them know of the loan. 
 Dail Eireann had been suppressed, Sinn Fein had been 
 suppressed, and though they could continue to meet in 
 secret and work behind cover, for the success of the loan 
 publicity was required and a wider and more wealthy 
 circle than such secret work could reach. It was there- 
 fore decided to advertise. All of us who owned journals 
 were to be thrown cheerfully into a conflagration, the 
 blaze of which would prove a much more successful 
 advertisement than any mass of printed matter. 
 
 The plan was characteristic of Collins. It had the 
 touch of largeness that, with his new responsibilities, he 
 was now beginning to acquire. I remember when the 
 advertisement came to me in my editorial office on 
 Ormond Quay how I held it before me in admiration of 
 the tinder my poor paper was to make. Yet there was 
 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 nothing to be said, and the advertisement was published. 
 That was on a Thursday early in September. On the 
 following Saturday Ormond Quay was held by military, 
 by police, and by detectives, while founts were melted, 
 type broken, and a formal notice of suppression delivered 
 on my publishers. The same thing was happening else- 
 where in the city and in the country, and in all, as I 
 remember, some dozen journals were suppressed in 
 Ireland that day for daring to print that advertisement. 
 
 The result was that the Republican loan was advertised 
 by the British Government with a military pomp and 
 worldwide notoriety that the Irish Republican Govern- 
 ment could never have hoped to achieve. And I was dis- 
 engaged from all other responsibilities to undertake a task 
 that was to occupy me for two years, till, with the signing 
 of the Treaty, I was called to other work. I will ever 
 regard that two years' intellectual discipline as one of 
 the most valuable experiences of my life. 
 
 §6 
 
 Thus, during the winter of 1919-1920 the two parts of 
 the work of Republican Government ran side by side. 
 The Commission of Inquiry was as yet the only substantial 
 attempt at constructive work to which it had put its hand. 
 Other civil tasks had to wait before they could be effective 
 till the network of the organization of the R.I.C. had been 
 torn beyond recovery over large tracts of country, and 
 gathered together to cover a less ambitious held. Then 
 new departments had to be created to take the place of 
 British departments that had ceased to function, and old 
 
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 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 departments (such as the Ministry for Local Government, 
 over which William T. Cosgrave presided) were able to 
 exercise a power and consequently to organize an activity 
 that till then had not been possible. But during this 
 winter the Commission was the first sign of life on the civil 
 side that the people had seen of the Republican Govern- 
 ment, and some of us who, as we started upon the work, 
 appreciated the stupendous task that had been committed 
 to us, foresaw difficulties and disappointment in the 
 eagerness with which some of the people expected the 
 speedy establishment of a new heaven and earth from so 
 hopeful a beginning. 
 
 Beside the work of the Commission went the work of 
 other departments, but particularly the work of the 
 army. That winter was one of preparation, and nowhere 
 was that preparation more active than in the I.R.A. The 
 old Executive Council of the Irish Volunteers, that had 
 continued in the early months of the I.R.A., was dis- 
 placed by a General Staff. Of this Staff a selected few, 
 members of the I.R.B., with Michael Collins at their 
 head, initiated new plans, schemes, and policies; but the 
 Staff itself was responsible for the organization and 
 administration of the force under Cathal Brugha, as 
 Minister for Defence, and undertook the conduct of the 
 plans and policies that were decided. The Chief of this 
 Start was Richard Mulcahy, now Minister for Defence 
 of the Free State. 
 
 Moreover, during these months the limitation of 
 finance, from which the I.R.A. (like every labour of the 
 putative Government) had suffered, was relieved. The 
 Republican Loan was succeeding. Its collection was 
 
 271
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 costly, for under the responsibility of each deputy in each 
 constituency organizers and collectors were appointed, 
 who moved from town to town, and from district to 
 district, utilizing the Sinn Fein organization, with the 
 consent and authorization of the Standing Committee of 
 Sinn Fein, gathering subscriptions from every part of the 
 country. Their work was extraordinarily difficult, for 
 the police watched them everywhere, and detectives 
 followed them wherever they could. Disguises were 
 often necessary, and quickness of wit was essential. In 
 one case, for example, an organizer had " worked " a 
 certain town, and was proceeding by train to the next, 
 when as the train was about to leave a lad who knew 
 him (the whole town had known of him, though till 
 then the police had not) came hurriedly to say that detec- 
 tives had boarded another part of the train. To the 
 astonishment of his fellow-travellers he therefore opened 
 his bag, tore into shreds every document it contained, and 
 threw them from the window. When, therefore, on his 
 arrival he was at once arrested and searched, nothing was 
 found that could incriminate him, and he was released. 
 This meant a journey to Dublin for more bonds; and 
 thus the expenses of collection were increased; but as a 
 result of this kind of patient, detailed, and dangerous 
 work the loan was made an extraordinary success; and 
 the work of departments, and especially the work 
 and organization of the I.R.A., was enlarged and 
 strengthened. 
 
 Special organizers were engaged for the Army. They 
 were not sent at first to places that were judged to be of 
 importance, since the force was not yet in a position to 
 
 272
 
 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 pick and choose, but only where small nucleus companies 
 existed, in order that from them a larger organization 
 might be extended and completed. And a special in- 
 telligence system was organized, of which Michael Collins 
 took charge on the General Staff. It was his conduct of 
 this system that so greatly demoralized Dublin Castle. 
 Some of the leading members of the detective forces on 
 the other side were in his pay, and he had his agents in 
 the inmost circles where secret documents were received 
 and filed. 
 
 I remember, for example, about a year after this time 
 I was travelling in the West; and about a fortnight after 
 my return I received from him, not a copy, but the 
 original of the report from the police of the districts 
 through which I had passed, or was supposed to have 
 passed, containing the signatures of the district inspectors 
 and head constables responsible for the remarkable in- 
 formation so accumulated. It was a most amusing docu- 
 ment; and for one who had had occasion to study 
 calendars of State papers it threw a quaint light on the 
 worth of other similar, if more antique, documents. The 
 greater part of it was pure imagination. Information of 
 my movements had been required; and that information 
 was provided by observation as to about one-quarter and 
 by splendid invention as to the rest. Even the books I 
 had read were noted, though some of them I had never 
 seen. I had, for a part of the journey, travelled by motor- 
 car, and had chosen roads that skirted police barracks. 
 But did this dry invention at its prolific fountain ? Not a 
 bit. The gaps were filled in very fully and also very in- 
 accurately, and signed by district inspectors, and gravely 
 
 273 T
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 studied at Dublin Castle, and carefully filed for the bio- 
 graphy of my criminal life. Yet the fact: that such an 
 original document should have come into my hand was 
 an example of the thoroughness with which Collins 
 worked his intelligence system, and enabled the I.R.A. 
 to know what its enemy was thinking and often what 
 its enemy proposed to do. 
 
 The chief need of the I.R.A., however, was of arms. 
 Small, secret importations of arms, munitions and explo- 
 sives were organized from England and Scotland, but the 
 I.R.A. was increasing in numbers faster than these im- 
 portations could equip them, and so raids were conducted 
 all over the country. Private houses were raided; the 
 more isolated barracks were frequently attacked; rifles 
 were bought and ensnared from soldiers; and, as time 
 went on, bolder adventures were made. During this 
 autumn, for instance, the guard at King's Inns was 
 attacked in broad daylight, and, suspecting nothing so 
 intrepid at such a time of day, they surrendered at once. 
 All their rifles and ammunitions were put into a waiting 
 motor-car, and almost before the guard was fully aware 
 of what was happening the raiders had gone. The affair 
 made a considerable noise; and it is unnecessary to say 
 that the exploit stimulated recruitment to the I.R.A. 
 
 Yet bigger things were being hoped for and planned. 
 On the first anniversary of Armistice Day it had been 
 arranged that Lord French, as Viceroy and Commander- 
 in-Chief of the Forces in Ireland, should take the salute 
 of a special march-past of selected units of the British 
 Army. A platform was erected for this purpose opposite 
 Parliament House in College Green — a prominent place, 
 
 274
 
 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 on which he would make a prominent target. I wonder 
 if he knew how nearly he went on that occasion to his 
 death. For arrangements were being made by the I.R.B. 
 to this end when Griffith heard of them and at once inter- 
 posed his authority. 
 
 The project of striking at the head of the hostile 
 Government was not, however, abandoned. Some weeks 
 later, in December, he went to England, and arrange- 
 ments were made to ambush him on his return. The 
 road he was to take from Kingstown to the Viceregal 
 Lodge had been devised carefully along secluded country 
 ways; but the plans were known; and the ambush was 
 laid so as to stop his cavalcade while gunmen opened fire 
 on it. He travelled in the steel-plated motor-car in which 
 he always now rode, and he was escorted before and 
 behind by an armed guard and an armoured car, the 
 entire procession running at full speed once it had been 
 started. To this, indeed, it owed escape. Those who 
 had been appointed at the cross-roads to pull a farmer's 
 dray across its passage, once the cavalcade had been 
 sighted, were unable to complete the manoeuvre quickly 
 enough, the result was that, though a furious battery of 
 gun-fire was opened upon it, the car in which the Viceroy 
 travelled being hit, its passengers crouching huddled on 
 the floor, the procession slipped through before mortal 
 injury could be done. 
 
 This was the first attempt at public assassination; and 
 it is significant of the change that had already been 
 wrought in public psychology that the people were 
 frankly disappointed at its failure. Whether they would 
 have been equally exultant had it succeeded, I do not say. 
 
 275
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 The reality of success might have brought revulsion, 
 where the lack of fatality left the exploit decked with 
 only its splendid adventure. Yet the fact remains. A 
 few months before, even the attempt would, I believe, 
 have startled and disquieted; but now it evoked a furious 
 regret at its failure, and the change was significant. The 
 exploit meant that war in its fullest sense was shortly to 
 be opened, and the disappointment meant that the people 
 would be carried into it with their consent, and even with 
 their approbation. 
 
 §7 
 
 During these weeks the Commission of Inquiry had 
 been busy. It had met in full session for the first time 
 on the 21st of September, when its proceedings had 
 been opened by Arthur Griffith as Acting President of 
 the Irish Republic. At that meeting it had divided its 
 work into the care of several committees, a Standing 
 Committee for the conduct of running business, a 
 Finance Committee, and other special committees accord- 
 ing to its arrangement of the subjects of inquiry. The 
 four most important of these subjects were decided to be 
 Food, Power, Textiles, and Minerals. The last two of 
 these were put aside for the time being, and, in fact, were 
 never engaged before the Commiision was brought to an 
 end. Special Committees were appointed to consider 
 Food and Power, to arrange for the hearing of evidence, 
 and to report to the Commission in full session, which in 
 turn would report to the Republican Government. 
 
 It is a sign of the care with which all details had to be 
 considered at that time that the offices of the Commission 
 
 276
 
 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 were chosen over the offices of the American Consul. 
 Any raid on such premises would be so easily liable to 
 misrepresentation by propaganda that greater safety 
 would be ensured; and so it proved indeed; for later 
 when other houses in the city were being searched for 
 the secretary, these offices were always warily left alone; 
 and once, when the pursuit ran close even there, the 
 secretary took occasion to have a long and earnest, con- 
 sultation with the American Consul on matters of in- 
 dustrial inquiry, knowing that his rooms would be 
 immune from search. 
 
 I do not propose to deal in any detail with the work 
 of this Commission. Its work was of the greatest, 
 economic importance; and it instituted, I believe, a form 
 of organization for such inquiry, and in the consideration 
 of its numerous reports, that could very fruitfully be 
 developed. These are matters, however, though im- 
 portant in themselves, that are hardly proper to my 
 present purpose. What is more pertinent to that purpose 
 is that the Commission found its work obstructed at 
 every turn by the armed forces of Dublin Castle; and 
 that that obstruction had a great deal to do, first with 
 the preparation for open war, and afterwards with the 
 conduct of that war. 
 
 Not at once was this apparent. The first public sessions 
 of the Commission for the hearing of evidence were held 
 in the City Hall in Dublin in December of that year. 
 No interference was then attempted; for leading citizens, 
 some of whom were strongly opposed to the political 
 faith of Sinn Fein, were present to proffer evidence; and 
 the precaution had been taken to have representatives of 
 
 277
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 the world's Press, a large number of whom were in 
 Ireland then, present on that occasion. But the Irish 
 Press was forbidden to print that evidence, or to report 
 the proceedings of the Commission. The amazing 
 spectacle was therefore seen of summaries of that 
 evidence being printed in the English daily Press as 
 well as in such English economic weeklies as the Statifl, 
 and advertised and sold all over Ireland for that reason, 
 while the Irish Press dared not, under fear of suppression, 
 suppose that such a body as the Commission of Inquiry 
 existed. 
 
 It was different when the Commission proceeded to 
 Cork, in February of the following year, 1920, to hear 
 evidence there. On our arrival in that city I was in- 
 formed by the Head Constable that sessions of the Com- 
 mission, public or private, would not be permitted, but 
 would be frustrated by armed force if necessary. Idle to 
 inform him that the Lord Mayor of that city had granted 
 us the use of the City Hall, and that leading citizens had 
 agreed to give evidence. The edict was complete, and 
 the warning summary. Nevertheless, it was a point of 
 discipline among us that all arrangements should be com- 
 pleted according to intention, whatever the opposition; 
 and so for three days an extraordinary farce was enacted 
 in the city. 
 
 On the first day, when we and our witnesses arrived 
 at the City Hall, we found it occupied by the R.I.C. 
 armed with carbines. This had been expected. So while 
 a few, who had been told off for that purpose, held the 
 police in argument, the rest moved in small parties to 
 the School of Art, and held the morning's session there. 
 
 278
 
 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 After lunch the School of Art was found to be held by 
 police with carbines; and so, by a similar manoeuvre, we 
 moved to the County Council Chamber, where the rest 
 of the day's work was completed. The following morn- 
 ing I was informed by our pickets that every possible 
 public building was held; and we therefore completed 
 our morning's session in the Imperial Hotel, where we 
 were housed. Soon after midday this, too, was sur- 
 rounded by police; and, in response to the prayer of the 
 manager, we moved elsewhere in the afternoon. We 
 divided; and while one half of our body drew the police 
 off in one direction, the resl: of us went to a private house 
 (accompanied by our witnesses, who by this time had 
 been stirred to endure all the consequences of opposition), 
 and completed our day's work there. The following day 
 we doubled back upon the City Hall, and had practically 
 completed our labours there, when we were summarily 
 and forcibly ejected. 
 
 It may be imagined that these events aroused a good 
 deal of attention. Owing to the arrival of a British 
 Labour delegation at the City Hall at the moment of our 
 ejection, indeed, they made excellent stuff for the chief 
 Press news of the day; and prepared all people's minds, 
 in Ireland and outside of Ireland, for the regular engage- 
 ment of war between the Irish Republican Government, 
 that claimed the administration of the country, and the 
 British Government, that held it and was prepared at all 
 costs to enforce its holding. 
 
 During all this time, persistently week by week, the 
 attacks on the R.I.C. had continued. Barrack after 
 barrack was being vacated; and reprisals had occurred. 
 
 279
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 During the very week of these events in Cork, for 
 instance, the police had broken loose in Thurles, Co. 
 Tipperary, and had " shot up " the town. In a wild 
 night they had paraded the streets in small bands, taking 
 their revenge by shooting through the windows of private 
 houses. Terror had reigned in Thurles; but anger soon 
 followed in the country; and it was apparent that the 
 regular commitment of war could not long be delayed. 
 This regular commitment of war, however, could not, 
 in spite of these things, be said yet to have been made. 
 It was soon to follow. Every Easter since 1916 had been 
 a time of suspense and preparation in an expectation of 
 a celebration and commemoration of the Rising of that 
 year. Particularly was this the case in 1920, in the light 
 of all that the previous year had seen. Nor was the 
 general expectation unfounded, though the commemora- 
 tion took a form that certainly was not expected. 
 
 The plans were carefully laid, and in view of the 
 difficulties of communication they were extraordinarily 
 complete. For during the Easter of this year on one 
 night nearly every vacated barracks in the country was 
 burned to the ground. 
 
 This meant war. It meant that a definite struggle had 
 been entered upon, and entered upon with a nation that 
 had been prepared to support it in all its consequences. 
 But it meant more. It meant that all the areas that had 
 been covered by the administration of these barracks 
 were now definitely removed from recovery by the British 
 Government, except as a consequence of a military 
 campaign, for its bases of operation in these areas had 
 been destroyed. And, since a people cannot exist in any 
 
 280
 
 FENCING FOR POSITION IN THE WAR 
 
 orderly manner without some form of governmental 
 administration, it meant, too, that the putative Irish 
 Republican Government was placed under the obligation 
 of creating an administration for these areas. Thus 
 Easier, 1920, was even a greater landmark than Easier, 
 1916, besides being as pictorially complete, for it opened 
 a definite slate of war, with all its dreadful consequences, 
 and it created an administrative change from which the 
 nation was never to recede. 
 
 281
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 WAR 
 
 §1 
 
 WAR had definitely been announced. Wherever 
 one travelled in Ireland after Easier, 1920, one 
 saw roofless walls, stark and black, of burnt-out police 
 barracks, loose casements rattling unheeded in the wind, 
 sandbags piled still in the windows, through which the 
 sky was seen, and steel, loop-holed sheeting, often twisted 
 by fire, over the friendless, deserted doors. They were, 
 with all their paraphernalia of defence, a sign and mark 
 of the change that had come. During the past year they 
 had been equipped for defence against the unsystematic, 
 haphazard attacks that had been attempted, now here, 
 now there, throughout the country. Now this manner of 
 fighting was definitely and deliberately to be supplanted 
 by a systematic guerilla warfare in which, while much 
 was necessarily left to local initiative, a general directive 
 and plan of campaign was to be observed, with bands of 
 armed men, on each side, seeking one another, and 
 evading one another, trapping, pursuing, and hindering 
 one another, along roads and lanes, over field, mountain, 
 and bog. 
 
 The change was quite definite, though the sequence 
 of events seems to indicate a mere acceleration of fury, 
 
 282
 
 WAR 
 
 The signal was unmistakable, and was not mistaken by 
 Dublin Castle. Characteristically, its first reply was by 
 subtlety. Its tradition was to destroy rebellion from 
 within rather than by attacks from without. Unlike 
 all earlier revolutionary movements in Ireland, the 
 present movement, however, had proved incorruptible. 
 A different method of winning a way within the organiza- 
 tion so as to strike directly at those who controlled it had 
 therefore to be sought. The plan failed, but it was not 
 without a masterly guile of its own. 
 
 One evening in the late spring of that year I was re- 
 turning homeward from my office at the Commission of 
 Inquiry when I overtook and passed Arthur Griffith at 
 Trinity College. My thoughts were full of many matters 
 when his voice recalled me to him. Instantly I saw a 
 change in him. Calm always, he was now like a well 
 of waters deeply stirred. Hardly could he contain his 
 humour, and he desired that all other work of mine 
 should be banished for that day, for he had a tale to 
 tell me. 
 
 So we went to a place where, at that early hour, we 
 were certain to be alone, and with many chucklings and 
 much delighted reflection in silence he told his tale. 
 Rather, his tale emerged to light through these obstruc- 
 tions, with no order or sequence at first to commend it, 
 in a manner much unlike the deliberation that its teller 
 habitually practised. " I am not a very dramatic sort 
 of man, am I?" he asked. " But I have just come from 
 a strange and dramatic scene. It would make a 
 magnificent scene in a play, I think. I am sure no 
 dramatist has ever thought of anything like it." 
 
 283
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Some weeks earlier, he said, a man by the name of 
 Hardy had come to see him, desirous to do something 
 signal to prove his attachment to the cause. He had 
 just come from gaol in Belfast, where he had been com- 
 mitted for helping the smuggling of arms into the 
 country. In gaol a plan of exquisite craft had been 
 conceived by him, in pursuance of which plan he had 
 offered himself to, and had been accepted by, Dublin 
 Castle for service against Sinn Fein. He was now 
 attached accordingly to the R.I.C. depot at Phoenix Park, 
 and he desired to meet the army chiefs of the I.R.A. 
 He knew well the risks he incurred, but what were they 
 to what his country could require of him ? His full plan 
 he would only unfold to the army chiefs themselves, 
 but briefly it was that, by planning with his employers 
 for their capture, he would, in fact, lead the heads of 
 the British Army in Ireland into a trap by which the 
 tables would be turned upon them. 
 
 Now Griffith was the last man in Ireland to whom 
 to come with such a tale. Wary as a fox, he scented 
 danger in all innocence that protested itself. So he made 
 further appointments to meet Hardy, and diligently 
 sought out his record. He found that Hardy had indeed 
 just emerged from Belfast Gaol, and that he had been 
 committed there, not for smuggling arms, but for fraud. 
 Moreover, he found that only a few months before he 
 had been sentenced to a long term of imprisonment, and, 
 therefore, that he had been liberated when only a fraction 
 of his sentence had been served. 
 
 With this record in his possession Griffith had 
 arranged with Hardy to meet the army chiefs at his 
 
 284
 
 WAR 
 
 office in Brunswick Street. Particularly had Hardy 
 desired to meet Michael Collins, and it was agreed that 
 Collins should be present, the meeting to be at five 
 o'clock. This done, Griffith sent a message to certain 
 chosen journalises in Dublin, representing Irish, English, 
 and Continental papers, that he had an important State- 
 ment to make punctually at a quarter to five on that day. 
 Accordingly two representatives from French journals, 
 one from a Spanish journal, two from American journals, 
 three from English journals, and two from the Dublin 
 Press arrived, and Griffith explained to them all that 
 had occurred. They were, he said, to be the army chiefs. 
 Only the Dublin journalists were to speak, lest the 
 accents of the others betrayed them, but they were all 
 to look as like revolutionary army chiefs as possible 
 while he exposed Hardy before them. 
 
 Hardly had he finished before Hardy arrived, and was 
 shown into their presence. Griffith sat at his table, with 
 Hardy before him, while the others sat round the table 
 grim and Sphinx-like, while Hardy slyly quizzed them 
 all. One of them particularly attracted him. This was 
 M. Berenger, a Gascon, into whose southern blood the 
 genuine humour of the scene had passed, and who folded 
 his arms and glowered down upon Hardy with a grim 
 and furious contempt. (Griffith imitated Berenger's 
 terrific and intimidatory manner, adding, through his 
 laughter, that he was sure Hardy had taken him to be 
 Collins.) Then Griffith drew from his victim all that 
 had already been told him, including the account of his 
 imprisonment for helping to smuggle arms for the libera- 
 tion of his country; and led him on to his plan, by which 
 
 285
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 the I.R.A. was to capture the heads of the British Army 
 in Ireland. 
 
 While this was being discussed in detail between Hardy 
 and the two Dublin journalists, Griffith took from his 
 pocket a type-written account of Hardy's career, which 
 he placed on the table before him. The others fell silent; 
 and, asking Hardy if the life story he was about to read 
 was familiar to him, Griffith then read the document he 
 had prepared. I could imagine the reading. Griffith 
 could be relentless on such an occasion and as hard as a 
 stone. He told me, however, that he watched Hardy's 
 face change, and his pallor increase while he read, till at 
 last he saw his hand go quickly towards his breast- 
 pocket. " Stop that," he called then; " you have my 
 word for your safety while you are here; but not if you 
 draw a weapon " : and Hardy's hand fell into his lap. 
 
 Then Griffith delivered his terms. It was, he said, 
 not yet six o'clock. The night mail left at eight. By 
 that night's mail Hardy must leave Ireland. Griffith 
 said he would personally answer for his safety for that 
 day; but not for one hour longer. 
 
 Arthur Griffith's humour had now passed, and he was 
 silent and stern for a while; but his humour quickly 
 returned. It was the recollection of M. Berenger's con- 
 spiratorial manner that brought his humour back again. 
 In the meantime others joined us, bringing the evening's 
 newspapers with them ; for the story was now the property 
 of the town. Later that night a pencilled note was 
 handed to him. He passed it over to me. It was a report 
 from an I.R.A. picket at Kingstown that Hardy had left 
 by the mail-boat that evening. 
 
 286
 
 WAR 
 
 §2 
 
 So failed the first and the last attempt to Strike at the 
 organization of war from within. In fact, for the first 
 time in history Dublin Castle found itself in the position 
 in which hitherto it had placed revolutionary organiza- 
 tions. Hitherto it had had its tentacles Stretched within 
 the inmost councils of such organizations, while being 
 itself aloof and unsearched. Now the case was other- 
 wise. The I.R.A. (for Sinn Fein was now fast becoming 
 less an organization than a name; and the Republican 
 Government itself sometimes awoke of a morning to 
 learn what it had done) was now aloof and unsearched, 
 having its tentacles in the secret archives of the Castle. 
 Whenever it struck (whatever final judgment history may 
 give of some of its blows) it struck with desperate 
 accuracy, whereas the R.I.C. and the military, whether 
 moved by the Castle or not, struck blunderingly — harm- 
 fully perhaps, but blunderingly. 
 
 Two examples occurred of this at this time — one on 
 each side. On the 20th of March all Ireland learnt with 
 horror that Alderman Tom McCurtin (the Tom McCurtin 
 whom we had known and loved in Reading Gaol, and 
 now Lord Mayor of Cork) had been brutally murdered 
 in his home the previous night. This was the culmina- 
 tion of a series of reprisals. A short time before a district 
 inspector and head constable of the R.I.C. had been shot 
 at, and missed, in the streets of Cork; and this was the 
 reply. At once it was put about by the Castle that Tom 
 McCurtin had been shot by his own comrades because 
 he had declined to let the funds of the Cork Corporation 
 
 287
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 be used for warfare. Now we who knew Tom McCurtin, 
 knew how fantastic and outrageous such a suggestion 
 was. No man could have been held in higher respect, 
 or regarded with greater love, than he, not less by those 
 who disagreed with him than by those who shared his 
 counsels. To his work, more than to the work of any 
 other single man, the organization of the I.R.A. in South 
 Cork was due. He held rather a midway place between 
 those who (in a rather stupid terminology) were termed 
 extremist and those who were termed moderate. He was 
 trusted by both; and, though of what I may call the war- 
 party, his influence was always conservative and con- 
 structive, drawing both sides to an agreed unity. His 
 murder precipitated violence in the South; and the blow 
 by which he was struck was a blundering one. 
 
 At the coroner's inquest the evidence indicated quite 
 clearly that the crime had been instigated by District 
 Inspector Swanzy. Even his superior, the County In- 
 spector, so demonstrably washed his hands of responsi- 
 bility in the witness-box, as to make it evident that he 
 knew, or suspected, more than he cared to say. In any 
 event, the jury returned a verdict that caused much 
 derision at the time. They found a verdict of murder 
 against a long list of persons, among whom were in- 
 cluded Mr. Lloyd George, Lord French, Mr. Ian Mac- 
 pherson, the Irish Chief Secretary, and District Inspector 
 Swanzy. It was easy to deride a sentence so embracive 
 and promiscuous, for indeed it was less a verdict than an 
 indignant indictment. Nothing was done, however; and 
 Swanzy disappeared. The I.R.A. decided, therefore, to 
 execute the verdict; and five months afterwards, on the 
 
 288
 
 WAR 
 
 7th of August, Swanzy was shot at Lisburn, where he 
 was then stationed, as he entered a church. Lisburn 
 being an Orange town, Swanzy's death was followed by 
 the burning of nearly every Catholic's home there in a 
 night of fury and terror. 
 
 Tom McCurtin's murder was a tragedy (in the strict 
 meaning of an abused word); but it was also a blundering 
 blow. Seven days after his murder, however, on the 27th 
 of March, the streets of Dublin rang with the tidings that 
 Mr. Alan Bell had that morning, in broad daylight, been 
 taken o':t of a tram-car and shot before the eyes of 
 his ff'iow-passengers, his assailants escaping without 
 h) r .urance. When the news came to me, I at once made 
 inquiries as to the cause of it; and I learned that Mr. 
 Alan Bell had been working at the organization of a 
 special spy service. He and John Taylor had, thirty 
 years before, undone the Land League by the creation of 
 just such a service. Since then Sir John Taylor had been 
 knighted, and was now the dominant force in Dublin 
 Castle as Assistant Under-Secretary. Mr. Bell had be- 
 come a Resident Magistrate; but, shortly before this, Sir 
 John Taylor had brought his old colleague to his side to 
 organize this special service, from his intimate know- 
 ledge of the country and his experience in this kind of 
 work. Little either of them knew that his labour was 
 being watched by a service as intimate as any he could 
 have wrought. 
 
 I do not write in any defence of his assassination. Of 
 that kind of procedure I have always had my judgment; 
 and later events have but confirmed these judgments, 
 have confirmed my belief that the same end might have 
 
 289 u
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 been gained by other means, with a higher and better 
 moral effect when national liberty was gained. As a 
 mere matter of historical fact, however, the truth remains 
 that the death of Alan Bell was a blow deadly in its 
 accuracy; for it meant that the work at which he was 
 occupied fell to pieces and remained undone. 
 
 §3 
 
 The contest, however, was not only being fought by 
 force and fury. It was being conducted, perhaps even 
 more keenly, in the civil sphere. In January, 1920, elec- 
 tions had been held for municipal and other local bodies 
 throughout Ireland; and for the first time these elections 
 had been held by Proportional Representation. This 
 method of election had been ordained by the British 
 Parliament with a view to weakening the power of Sinn 
 Fein, since, throughout the greater part of the country, 
 elections held by the old method would have swept all 
 other parties from the field. When the intention to sub- 
 stitute Proportional Representation had first been sug- 
 gested, a motion had been made, in the Ard-Fheis of 
 April, 1919, to agitate against it, because of the intention 
 that obviously inspired it; but Sinn Fein had always 
 advocated P.R., in the days when it was in a minority, 
 as just and right; and when the Ard-Fheis was urged, 
 now that it represented a majority, to stand by its avowed 
 principles, the motion had failed to carry a single vote. 
 By P.R., therefore, the elections had been held; and by 
 P.R., searching test though the method gave, Sinn Fein 
 carried a sweeping majority on very nearly every public 
 
 290
 
 WAR 
 
 board in the country, gaining representation even within 
 the Orange stronghold of the Belfast Corporation. 
 
 All die public bodies, as a result, had elected Re- 
 publican chairmen, and all gave their allegiance, by 
 resolution, to the Republican Government, pledging 
 themselves to take no orders from the Local Government 
 Board of the British Government, unless instructed to do 
 so, for purposes of convenience, by the Republican 
 Government, and to act under the control of the Local 
 Government Department of the Republican Government. 
 It is hardly necessary to point to the drastic change that 
 this meant — a change upon which history was never to 
 return. It meant that an entire branch of the Castle's 
 ornamental tree (once so bravely flourishing, and already 
 grievously sickled from its prime) was lopped at a blow, 
 and that the little branch of the Republican Government, 
 calling itself by the same name, was strengthened and 
 enlarged to take its place. The difficulties were, of 
 course, stupendous; for the Republican Government was 
 hunted; and to create a department of this magnitude 
 under cover, with its Ministers " on their keeping," its 
 officials unknown, and its instructions conveyed secretly, 
 was a task as intricate as it was formidable. Yet the 
 difficulties were overcome; and the task, now begun, was 
 successfully accomplished, though its accomplishment 
 brought some of the local bodies to the verge of bank- 
 ruptcy for the lack of monetary grants-in-aid. 
 
 After Easter, moreover, another department of the Re- 
 publican Government was started. The yearly land 
 agitation had risen again, as usual, on the fringe of the 
 congested districts; and it presented a problem that the 
 
 291
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 Republican Government could not neglect It happened 
 that I was the first from Dublin to come into touch with 
 it; for I had rested during Easier in Achill, and passing 
 through Mayo certain solicitors and others had repre- 
 sented the seriousness of the situation to me. Lands were 
 being seized right and left, generally by those whose hold- 
 ings were insufficient to maintain a livelihood, but in 
 many cases by men who took advantage of disturbance 
 and disorder to augment holdings that were, it is true, 
 none too large, but sufficient for their needs withal. I 
 was told that a situation had arisen that would, if it were 
 not grappled instantly and in a statesmanlike manner, 
 engulf that part of the country in a trouble that might 
 overwhelm the straighter national issue. 
 
 On my return to Dublin I reported the matter to 
 Arthur Griffith, and urged that a special department of 
 the Republican Government should be created to deal 
 with the situation. It was characteristic of Griffith that 
 he should hesitate, for it was his rule never to undertake 
 responsibilities for his Government unless he saw clearly 
 in advance that they could be carried with success. No 
 one recognized better than he that his putative Govern- 
 ment would be judged, at home and abroad, not by its 
 protestations, but by its accomplishment. He went 
 warily, therefore, and looked askance at new commit- 
 ments until they were forced upon him. Yet the enforce- 
 ment was soon to follow. Cattle-driving and death- 
 notices accumulated, and led finally to violence of a 
 nature that could not be neglected. In Co. Roscommon 
 a landowner who had defied threatenings was driven 
 naked through a crowded fair; and in Co. Galway (both 
 
 292
 
 WAR 
 
 counties through which ranch-land marched with the con- 
 gested districts) a landowner was ducked publicly in a 
 pond till he acceded to the demands made on him, and 
 another landowner, Mr. Shaw-Taylor, whose property 
 consisted mainly of ranch-land, was shot dead. Then 
 action became imperative. 
 
 Action became imperative for a number of reasons 
 that fitted together to make a tessellated pattern of persua- 
 sion. The Republican Government, in the first place, 
 had either to be a Government or not to be a Govern- 
 ment; and, in the second place, it had to keep the 
 national demand for freedom clear from class issues or 
 be caught in the snare of a class war. The inactivity of 
 the British Government in the face of these threatenings 
 was its own warning from both these points of view. It 
 is true that that inactivity was due in part to the fact that 
 the R.I.C. had as much as it could do to maintain itself 
 in the stations to which it had been withdrawn, and that 
 it was almost powerless as a police force; but it is also 
 true that Dublin Castle would have been well content to 
 see the larger pretensions of the Republican Government 
 crumble into the general disorder of an agrarian war, 
 especially as such a war would be internal and might 
 split the ranks of the I.R.A. It was imperative, there- 
 fore, that some constructive action should be undertaken 
 so as to cure the evil and save disaster. 
 
 Such was the origin of the Republican Land Com- 
 mission that, during this year, saved what seemed an 
 almost impossible situation, and made landowners realize 
 that the national Government, to which they were so 
 bitterly hostile, not only meant impartial justice to all 
 
 2 93
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 parties, but was, in fact, the only body to which they 
 could look with confidence for the administration of such 
 justice. Not at once was this Commission established. 
 The first attempt to cure the evil was less ambitious; for 
 on the 17th of May the Minister for Agriculture of the 
 Republican Government, attended by Kevin O'Shiel as 
 his legal assessor, sat in Ballinrobe, Co. Mayo, to try the 
 most urgent of the cases that had come to notice. His 
 judgment in that case went against those who had seized 
 the land in dispute. When that judgment was openly 
 defied the matter was put into the hands of the I.R.A., 
 who one night, a fortnight after the judgment, arrested 
 the offending parties and removed them to " an unknown 
 destination " — a phrase that afterwards became current 
 to describe Republican places of detention for prisoners. 
 This was startling; and I well remember that shock with 
 which the news was received; for the men who effected 
 the arrest were of the same social order as those who had 
 seized land, and the test of discipline that this meant can 
 only be realized by those who know how intensely 
 agrarian disputes can bind a community in Ireland, 
 particularly in the congested districts. 
 
 Quickly upon this followed a decree of the Ministry for 
 Home Affairs, dated die 29th of June, establishing courts 
 to try cases of seized and disputed lands; and then Dail 
 Eireann (meeting always in secret) founded the Land 
 Commission, as a separate branch of the Republican 
 Judiciary, under the Department for Agriculture, to deal 
 with all land cases. Thus was seen the remarkable 
 spectacle of a land commissioner, sitting with full 
 powers as a judge, moving publicly on circuit through 
 
 294
 
 WAR 
 
 the country, holding open courts on behalf of a pro- 
 claimed Republican Government, with solicitors and 
 counsel of the courts of the British Government appear- 
 ing before him on behalf of landowners who supported 
 one Government and on behalf of tenants who supported 
 the other. Impossible to break up such courts — though 
 this was afterwards attempted. Were they not administer- 
 ing justice, where there was none other to undertake this 
 necessary duty? Were not landlords of unimpeachable 
 reputation and loyalty represented by counsel, of reputa- 
 tion and loyalty equally unimpeachable, at these courts? 
 Therefore, though the very Government that brought the 
 Commission into being was proclaimed and its Ministers 
 hunted, its land courts were publicly held and publicly 
 attended, with the I.R.A. as its public officers, while the 
 R.I.C. kept to their barracks. 
 
 I wonder if such a spectacle of such peculiar and 
 delicious irony has ever been seen in any country. The 
 land courts, indeed, did work of permanent, as well as 
 of immediate, value. Their success was due to their first 
 Commissioner, Ivtr. Kevin O'Shiel. I remember at the 
 time reading the speeches with which he always opened 
 the proceedings in a new place. Not only were they 
 dignified, but they were specially educative and salutary, 
 peculiarly suited to a country in which law had for 
 centuries been regarded, not as the expression of the 
 communal will, but as a subtle form of oppression. 
 Always he emphasized that the courts at which he pre- 
 sided were the people's courts; that he was merely the 
 expression of the people's will; that the judgments he 
 gave were the people's judgments; and that it was there- 
 
 295
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 fore for the people to guard their dignities jealously and 
 to regard those who quarrelled against those judgments 
 as offenders against the people's will. 
 
 These truths were just what was needed; and Kevin 
 O'Shiel recognized a further need by perfect candour, 
 on the one hand, and scrupulous heed to dignity and 
 manner and ceremonial on the other — excellent accom- 
 paniments one of another. I remember seeing him hold 
 a court in a little dingy room in a dingy town in the 
 West. The conditions were depressing enough; but 
 pomp and formality invested even those conditions with 
 dignity. The case being argued while I was there was 
 brought at the suit of one of the largest landowners of 
 that part of the country. Yet not only did he enforce 
 dignity, but some of his judgments were uncommonly 
 shrewd and wise. One aroused a certain fame at the 
 time, and is worth recounting. A father had left his 
 farm to his two sons. The elder, being married, worked 
 the farm, and the younger lived with him — till he, too, 
 desired to marry. Then the elder brother refused to 
 divide the farm; and the younger brother sued him in 
 the Republican land courts. Kevin O'Shiel's judgment 
 was that the elder brother should divide the farm in two 
 halves as and how he wished, but that the younger 
 brother should have first choice which half he should 
 take for his portion. Truly a judgment that Solomon 
 might envy — and with the touch of humour well beloved 
 of all honest folk. 
 
 296
 
 WAR 
 
 U 
 
 These land courts were of the greatest importance in 
 die War. They were followed at once by an organized 
 judiciary system for all manner of cases; but it was the 
 land courts that prompted the organization of this 
 system, and it was the land courts that ensured for the 
 other courts the freedom of operation that was at first 
 accorded to them, without which they might not have 
 been able to establish themselves as they did. The land 
 courts, in fact, not only effectually and remarkably cured 
 the evil that had been threatened, but they made an 
 admirable screen behind which other courts could begin 
 their work. They did this simply because, whereas the 
 other courts, for the trial of all ordinary litigation, were 
 resorted to, not by the gentry who were the support of 
 Dublin Castle, but by those who voted for Republican 
 deputies, they themselves were chiefly availed of the class 
 that had landed property to save. To this fact they owed 
 their immunity. Impossible to arrest the very garrison 
 of the Castle. Impossible also to squelch courts without 
 arresting those who took their cases. But impossible, too, 
 to squelch other courts, handling smaller cases, while 
 land courts were publicly held and immune from molesta- 
 tion. So it was possible to establish an entire Republican 
 judicial system; and when finally it was decided to stamp 
 out this system, to hunt its judges and magistrates, and 
 to prohibit the holding of its courts, the system was too 
 well rooted to be uptorn, and was able to continue its 
 work under cover. 
 
 Here also a change was made upon which the country 
 
 297
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 was not to return. Lacking an administrative organiza- 
 tion of its own, the only organization available for the 
 creation of a judicial system was that of Sinn Fein, 
 through which arbitration courts had already been begun 
 in 1918. Within its units, of the parish and the con- 
 stituency, therefore, courts were instituted for the hear- 
 ing of criminal cases and cases in equity. At first there 
 were a good many irregularities. The I.R.A. had already 
 established a police of its own for the maintenance of 
 order in districts from which the R.I.C. had been with- 
 drawn; and army officers sat, often in uniform, as 
 judges. But in time magistrates were elected by the 
 Sinn Fein Cumainn, and they took over this work for 
 both parish and district courts, while for larger cases, 
 including appeals from the district courts, special judges 
 were appointed from members of the Irish Bar. 
 
 Before many months had passed, the greater part of 
 the judicial work of the country (except the larger com- 
 mercial and Chancery cases that went to the Dublin Four 
 Courts) had been swept from the British courts into the 
 Republican courts. Judges went on circuit, but had few 
 cases, sometimes no cases at all, to hear, and had diffi- 
 culty even in getting jurors; whereas county courts and 
 magistrates' courts were everywhere idle. 
 
 It was claimed, of course, that this result was won by 
 pure intimidation. It is true that an occasional touch 
 of the spur of intimidation was applied, for the condi- 
 tions were those of war, and what is war but intimida- 
 tion? Hardly could that spur, however, reach the sides 
 of the litigious, though it was unquestionably used for 
 jurors. Yet I know from my own experience that it was 
 
 298
 
 WAR 
 
 not intimidation that brought the greater part of cases 
 to the new courts. I had been elected chairman of the 
 district court for South City Dublin; also I came in touch 
 with folk who frequented the courts throughout the 
 country; and I know that the people came to the new 
 courts mainly because they desired to participate in the 
 change of system, and to a considerable extent because 
 they relished the simple, straightforward, frequently non- 
 legal equity administered there. I remember an Ameri- 
 can lawyer, who was present at one of these courts, and 
 had been speaking with some of the litigants, comment- 
 ing upon this evident relish; and saying, after an examina- 
 tion of some of the judgments that had been given, that 
 black-letter law, working upon an incrustation of pre- 
 cedents, inevitably withdrew further and further from a 
 living, inherent, communal sense of justice, and required 
 just so robust a return to reality occasionally for its re- 
 freshment. 
 
 Yet this charge of intimidation as the cause of the 
 success of the new courts is absurd on the face of it. Not 
 only is it manifest that no amount of intimidation could 
 be sufficient to cause a change so prompt and widespread, 
 but the new courts soon were hunted by the military 
 and later by wild and fearful bands of Black-and-Tans 
 and Auxiliaries. They broke in upon sittings of the 
 courts, when these sittings were discovered, with bayonets 
 fixed and revolvers brandished. Judges had to find their 
 way to secret places stealthily and often disguised, 
 litigants had to be escorted to them secretly and by 
 appointment. For a time it became almost impossible to 
 hold them, so great were the difficulties, so perilous the 
 
 299
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 dangers; and when stealth and secrecy, in the administra- 
 tion of justice, were better organized and worked more 
 smoothly, the business of the courts thrived as before. 
 It was certainly not intimidation brought business to the 
 new courts under these conditions. Rather, intimidation 
 went the other way, since terror strove to dissuade and not 
 to persuade. I remember myself on occasion going to 
 preside at one of these courts at night under the footrug 
 of a motor-car, and in a lonely room in a dark lane 
 seeing litigants, solicitors, and counsel find their way there 
 furtively for the hearing of cases in which considerable 
 sums of money were involved. Assuredly it was not 
 intimidation that spelt success to such conditions. . . . 
 Yet, perhaps it was intimidation : albeit an intimidation 
 that went strangely awry in the working. 
 
 §5 
 
 During these months the Commission of Inquiry also 
 continued its work. It had already learnt valuable 
 lessons, as a consequence of which it had bravely changed 
 its procedure — changed, indeed, the procedure till then 
 adopted, and still continued, in all Commissions of 
 Inquiry, great and small. It had intended to make an 
 itinerary of leading cities, towns, and districts to hear 
 evidence on the subjects it had selected for first reference, 
 but circumstances helped to teach wisdom and economy. 
 
 At Limerick the Commission encountered the same 
 difficulties as at Cork. On the morning when the Com- 
 mission was to have sat in state in the City Hall — with 
 Michael O'Callaghan, one of its members and Mayor of 
 
 300
 
 WAR 
 
 the city, to open the proceedings — the local District 
 Inspector of police waited on the secretary in full regalia 
 to inform him that he was instructed to stop its work, by 
 force if necessary. Yet he was a temperate and courteous 
 man, having a sense of humour and wisdom withal. He 
 admitted that however things went the Commission 
 would probably complete the work it had come to do, 
 and that he and his forces (sixty of whom, with carbines, 
 we had just seen march to the City Hall) would doubtless 
 be made to look lugubrious at the heel of the hunt. Yet 
 what, he asked, was he to do? Orders were orders. 
 We came, therefore, to an understanding by which each 
 agreed to save the other much inconvenience. He agreed 
 to watch the City Hall with his forces, and to watch it 
 with such zeal that he would have none to spare for other 
 parts of the city. We agreed to let the City Hall alone. 
 He agreed not to become aware that we might perhaps 
 have gone elsewhere till the third day. We agreed by 
 that third day to have done our work and to have left 
 the city without noise and publicity. And we each kept 
 our parts of the pact. His forces marched and counter- 
 marched round the City Hall while, as all the city knew, 
 we heard our evidence from its leading citizens in the 
 St. Mary's Hall, where the Mayor presided in his chain 
 of office. At noon on the third day his forces marched 
 to the St. Mary's Hall, and at noon on that day we 
 returned to Dublin, our work accomplished. 
 
 Yet, when we had heard our evidence it was patent 
 that most of it was to little purpose, indicating, rather, 
 what had yet to be discovered than furnishing that dis- 
 covery. We came therefore to the conclusion that this 
 
 301
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 method of inquiry by caravanserai was, like many ether 
 things more honoured in their antiquity than in their 
 practical value, as purposeless as it was expensive. So we 
 changed our method to that of direct inquiry by staff- 
 work, to be augmented by special evidence as and when 
 this was found to be necessary. To this change of method 
 I attribute the fact that the Commission was able during 
 the short time of its existence, to present so many reports 
 covering so wide a range of subjects, for it was able in 
 this way to economize both its energies and its slender 
 finances. Also we reduced the chances of conflict with 
 Dublin Castle to the smallest point, for, like every other 
 branch of the work of the Republican Government, except 
 the military, our ideal was to function and to get work 
 done rather than to find opportunities of collision. 
 
 Nevertheless, collision occurred, and led to a scene 
 that made a great noise at the time. It is worth re- 
 telling, for few things could be more typical of the 
 terror that began this summer to prevail throughout the 
 entire country. 
 
 In the absence of public departments on which to lean 
 for skilled information it had been decided by the Com- 
 mission to make use of the staffs of public bodies. The 
 County Councils were therefore circulated, and asked to 
 gather certain required information through their sur- 
 veyors. To help further to this end deputations from the 
 Commission waited on the County Councils. The first 
 of these meetings was at Co. Monaghan, and when we 
 went there we found that the County Council had been 
 prohibited by the police from hearing us. A body of 
 police was actually present at the meeting of the Council, 
 
 302
 
 WAR 
 
 prepared to break it up if our deputation were heard. 
 At Wexford we were more successful, for there we took 
 the precaution to cause no notification of our business to 
 appear on the agenda paper. And in July we went to 
 Carrick-on-Shannon for a joint meeting of the Councils 
 of Co. Roscommon and Co. Leitrim, to be held with a 
 view to discovering if the coal-deposits of the Arigna 
 district could, in the coal scarcity of the time, be turned 
 to practical advantage. Our deputation on that occasion 
 consisted of Colonel Maurice Moore, C.B., at that time 
 the Chairman of the Commission, and myself. It was this 
 meeting that looked at one time as if it would end fatally. 
 
 We were in the midst of our business when the door 
 of the Council Chamber was flung open and a body of 
 military entered, with bayonets fixed, led by two officers, 
 a captain and a lieutenant, each with large revolvers in 
 their hands. Their leader was in a state of great excite- 
 ment, and at once strode to the Chairman of the Leitrim 
 County Council, who was presiding, and asked him if 
 he were responsible for the proceedings. Hearing that 
 he was the captain ordered . his arrest. Challenged to 
 show his authority, the captain instantly put his revolver 
 to his prisoner's head, saying, " This is my authority : 
 is it good enough?" and I was in fear lest he should 
 shoot, for he had entirely lost control of himself. 
 
 Having sent his prisoner to the guard-room, the cap- 
 tain turned his attention to the rest of us. We were 
 utterly in his power, for the Council Chamber at Carrick 
 is in the Court-house, and the Court-house was held as a 
 military barracks and fort surrounded by wire entangle- 
 ments, within which marched sentries, fully armed, from 
 
 303
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 point to point. At first we were told that we would all 
 be held till the morrow, but then Colonel Moore stepped 
 in, and, serious though the position was, it was amusing 
 to note how our captain unwillingly, truculently, yet 
 compulsively, reacted to the practised accent of military 
 command. " We are the top-dogs here now," said he, 
 shaking his revolver at Colonel Moore. ' Yes," said 
 Moore frigidly, '' that is precisely what you are. You 
 have said it." " Well, sir," came the instant rejoinder 
 (as a soldier might instantly, beyond his volition, spring 
 to die command of attention), "what are we to do?" 
 " You will let us out from this now," said Moore. ' Such 
 preposterous nonsense as to keep us hanging about here." 
 
 So our captain decided to liberate us, but took our 
 names in turn in order to know whom his company con- 
 tained. As it came to my turn I hesitated. It would 
 have been but ordinary wisdom to have given another 
 name, but there was a large company standing by, and 
 a question of public discipline was involved. So I gave 
 my own name. The effect on the captain was startling. 
 It is hard for me not to appear to exaggerate that effect, 
 for indeed he behaved like a villain in melodrama — a 
 dangerous villain, with almost unlimited power in his 
 hand. He levelled his revolver at me and ordered my 
 instant arrest, exclaiming excitedly, " I know you, Figgis; 
 you are one of the leaders of Sinn Fein; you are one of 
 the heads of treason " — a charge that I could not admit 
 with truth or disavow without cowardice. ;< I have you 
 now," he shouted. " Keep hold of him. Take him to 
 the guard-room." 
 
 In the guard-room I found the Chairman in care of 
 
 3°4
 
 WAR 
 
 a corporal's squad. The soldiers were amused at their 
 officer's antics, but it was not an amusing matter for us, 
 and we were soon to learn that fact. For when he had 
 sent away die rest of the company he came to the guard- 
 room, and covering us with his revolver, announced his 
 intention to try us instantly by drum-head court-martial. 
 I looked at the man in amazement. At first I had 
 thought that he was drunk, but now I saw that he was 
 not drunk. I wondered therefore how it came about 
 that an officer, so clearly mad, should continue in 
 authority. It was not till afterwards that I learned that 
 he had but a few days been liberated from hospital after 
 a drinking bout followed by delirium tremens. With 
 every movement that I made he covered me at once with 
 his revolver, his finger on the trigger, and had I once 
 lost control he would certainly have shot. Only by speak- 
 ing to him coldly, as though I and not he were in com- 
 mand, was he held in check. I had in fact to keep control 
 of him by firm control of myself, without releasing that 
 control for one instant. 
 
 So the monstrous farce of the trial continued. The 
 Chairman was first tried, and acquitted after a harangue 
 on the love due to his King. Then my turn came, and 
 I was searched. A few old papers bearing the letter-head 
 of Sinn Fein (the existence of which I had long forgotten) 
 were found in my pocket-book, and these were taken as 
 proof of my guilt. I was therefore sentenced to be 
 hanged, the sentence to be executed at once without any 
 delay. Turning to his sergeant he ordered him to pur- 
 chase a rope at once, and went out with him to see that 
 the order was executed. 
 
 305 x
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 That the situation was absurd did not make it any 
 the less desperate, for it was clear to us all that he meant 
 to execute his sentence. His soldiers were terrified, but 
 when I protested to them in his absence they replied that 
 they did not want him to turn upon them. Yet he was 
 cunning as a fox. When, on his return, I pointed out 
 that the consequences of his action might prove serious, 
 he replied, " So that's what you're thinking. Well, if 
 there's a little noise for a time they'll be thankful to me 
 for having got rid of you, and it'll mean promotion in 
 the end " — and as things stood then in Ireland he was 
 probably not wrong. 
 
 My efforts were then bent towards getting into touch 
 with the world outside. For the rope had been brought 
 in, and I was playing desperately for time, using every 
 shift to hold him in argument and never once releasing 
 control, for loss of control meant a quick end. I asked 
 to see a chaplain, and the request was refused. I desired 
 to send a telegram to my wife, and this, too, was refused. 
 I turned upon politics and brought him into an argu- 
 ment, and while this continued his lieutenant entered, 
 spoke to him, and the two of them left the guard-room 
 together. 
 
 On his return I noticed a change in him. He had 
 lost his insolent assurance of manner. For in the mean- 
 time (the episode having lasted some hours) a wind of 
 what was happening had blown into the town, and 
 Colonel Moore had sought the help of the Clerk of the 
 Crown of Peace, a Mr. Lonsdale, who had demanded to 
 see the captain, informing him (in an assumption of 
 authority that was fortunately conceived) that he was the 
 
 306
 
 WAR 
 
 responsible civil officer for the district, and that with- 
 out his consent and presence no sentence could be 
 executed. He stated also that he had sent for the County 
 Inspector of Constabulary, before whom he required that 
 I should be brought. 
 
 By this ruse the situation was saved. When I was 
 informed that I was to be taken to the police-barracks I 
 knew that the danger was over. It had continued during 
 five hours. I had been arrested at five o'clock and at 
 ten o'clock of a peaceful summer's evening I was liberated 
 by the County Inspector, having first been withdrawn 
 by him from the control of the military. 
 
 §6 
 
 The episode, it will be said, was but a proof of mad- 
 ness, and that is true, but it was proof of a madness 
 typical of the entire country. For by this time the 
 military were in complete control and were unquestioned 
 in all their acts, the civil authorities having been almost 
 entirely displaced. At the beginning of the year the 
 Republican Government through the I.R.A. had been 
 the attacking party; but now that Government, through 
 the departments which it had created, however inter- 
 mittently and even fragmentarily those departments 
 were administered, had taken into its hands much of 
 the practical governance of the country; and the conse- 
 quence was that the British Government became the 
 attacking party, and its army was lifted above its own 
 law, subsisting as it did in what had now overtly 
 become a hostile country. I am not now seeking to 
 
 307
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE IRISH WAR 
 
 apportion blame. I am seeking but to estimate a situa- 
 tion that had occurred. Much of the terrible, desperate 
 madness that was now to range in Ireland was due 
 simply to the effort to recapture by military violence 
 what had been lost in civil administration. 
 
 Not that the offensive was lost by the I.R.A.; for that 
 offensive swayed to and fro during the entire war. By 
 the end of this year, 1920, the I.R.A. was formed in 
 what became known as A.S.U. (the Active Service Units); 
 but these were merely the official formation of the " fly- 
 ing columns " that throughout this summer operated in 
 Dublin and many parts of the country districts. These 
 flying columns sought always to trap the military in 
 ambushes, sometimes inflicting heavy losses. Then they 
 would melt away to reassemble in some other place. 
 Snared in this way by an unseen foe, the military re- 
 sponded with reprisals. In whatever district an ambush 
 occurred, a local factory or creamery was burned to the 
 ground and the ugly ruins of burnt creamery buildings 
 began to mark the country side by side with burnt police 
 barracks. 
 
 As this form of warfare developed, new forces were 
 created for its better prosecution. During this summer 
 the Black-and-Tans came into being, and they were 
 speedily followed by the Auxiliaries as special " shock 
 troops." Space does not permit here to trace the course 
 of this war — how a definite policy of reprisals followed 
 a definite policy of ambushes, flames following upon 
 bombs, till Ireland became more than ever before 
 notorious for her ruins, and hunters and pursued rapidly 
 changed places according as their own good wits served 
 
 308
 
 WAR 
 
 them. It is only necessary to point out that this warfare 
 meant but one thing and could lead but to one result. 
 It meant that external government had ceased to be a 
 government, war having taken its place, and this in its 
 turn meant that a truce must inevitably follow, while it 
 was resolved in what form, and subject to what con- 
 ditions, an internal government should be set up and 
 recognized. 
 
 In July, 1921, therefore, that truce was made, and as 
 a consequence the Free State Government took the place 
 of the Republican Government, by the will of the Irish 
 people.
 
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