by Dermot Keogh
But that was not how Cahir Davitt saw events. In his memoir, completed in 1958, he remained equally resolute. The government had accorded the anti-Treaty forces belligerent rights up to 15 October 1922 when the period fixed for amnesty expired:
I have, I believe, already indicated that I was not in favour of the execution policy; but I never doubted the right of the government to adopt and enforce it … I was not in favour of executing anyone if it could be avoided; but if anyone were to suffer death it was they who deserved it most [the members of the Four Courts Executive] as a punishment for bringing about the tragedy of fratricidal strife. The reprisal execution of O’Connor, Mellowes, McKelvey and Barrett was not merely the most justly deserved of all the executions it was also the most justifiable. As a drastic means of ending the incipient campaign of assassination of Dáil deputies its success was immediate and conclusive.73
While there were no further ‘executions’ of Dáil members, further research will determine the nature of the impact of the executions on the anti-Treatyite forces. De Valera had been numbed by the deaths of close friends at the hands of former political colleagues and comrades. But what latitude did he have to act to restrain the anti-Treatyites?
Liam Lynch had a sanguine and very unrealistic view of the military and political struggles. On 21 December he had written that the ‘home situation generally is very satisfactory, and generally is immensely improving from week to week.’ He felt that the anti-Treatyites now believed that the ‘the situation is already saved, at least, as far as the present enemy is concerned.’ Lynch was hoping for a large supply of arms from Germany which would give his forces the decisive advantage. That was to be organised by Seán Moylan who had been sent in November to the United States because he was in very bad health to act as a liaison officer for the anti-Treatyites.74His departure was a serious blow to those who favoured an end to the war among the anti-Treatyite military.75
In December 1922, the war entered a new and dangerous phase. There was a new-found ferocity and ruthlessness in the activities of the anti-Treatyites. The property of prominent government supporters was destroyed. On 10 December the home of Seán McGarry was set on fire by a party of armed men who failed to allow the family time to reach safety. His wife and two children suffered from burns, one of the children dying later as a result. The premises of Mrs Nancy Wyse Power in Camden Street were set on fire. The offices of two firms of Dublin solicitors were also destroyed in December. Lord Glenavy’s oldest son, Gordon Campbell, had his home burned down on 18 December. Bombs were thrown at the offices of the Independent in Middle Abbey street. On 20 December a party of armed men seized the Dublin to Belfast mail train, forced the passengers to leave and set it on fire. They then compelled the driver to crash his train into another train carrying government troops and military supplies. Two unarmed soldiers were fired on in Dublin. One was killed and the other was seriously wounded. An explosion wrecked the premises of Denis McCullagh. Many other acts of wanton vandalism were committed throughout the country.
Amid such mayhem came news on 20 December of seven executions. In some cases, the tactics chosen by the National Army to fight against the anti-Treatyites did not come out of a textbook. In Kerry, in particular, the methods chosen to prosecute the war require scholarly investigation. One officer who served in the south, Lieutenant Patrick Quinlan – a veteran of the War of Independence – has left the following account in his diary for 14 December:
Was Orderly Officer today. Same old ding-dong again. Nothing but [?] as to how I got on. Of course A.1. was the formula of the report I had to give everyone but it cut me that I could not open up about some of the things that I had seen and learned during the tour. I could not very well say ‘this fellow is a waster, or that fellow is a dud, a fool or a featherhead’, and in cases where you would least expect it, but mum is the word. I compare some officers of the National Army to a beautiful fruit or [?] which grows in the cooler season in the vicinity of the Dead Sea. It grows very rapidly flowering into a most dazzling display of gorgeous petals ripening slowly into a lovely fruit like a tomato but breaking into dust and generating an obnoxious and pungent odour when touched. Thus it is with the bogus patriotic Dandies who grew up and blossomed during the Truce but they are bursting under the test like the fruit one by one but they leave the pungent odour which is obnoxious to the taste of public opinion. It ill becomes me to entertain thoughts of kicking up a row about the state of affairs in this army but when there is a grievance where is the remedy to be found. The authorities must be fully aware of the state of affairs or if not they are to blame.76
Cahir Davitt, an unimpeachable source, has written in his memoirs of an incident which occurred towards the end of December. A party of armed men, who described themselves as ‘the authorities’, called at the lodgings of Francis Lalor and took him away by force. His body was later found near Milltown golf course. Davitt commented: ‘This killing had all the appearance of being an “unofficial execution” carried out by some members of the government’s forces.’ It was in that fashion, he added, ‘we saw the old year out.’77The Irish Civil War, comparatively speaking, was not characterised by a systematic policy of widespread extra-judicial killings. As Todd Andrews wrote in his memoirs: ‘In Civil War, alas, there is no glory; there are no monuments to victory or victors, only to the dead.’78
Despite the routing of anti-Treatyite forces in different parts of the country, de Valera told McGarrity in a letter on 20 January that:
there will be much bloodshed and suffering here before this conflict is ended. The worst of it all is that England is having the laugh at us, and that there is no peaceful method of solution in sight. The people are dispirited and it is impossible to get back the vim and dash of a couple of years ago. We are however doing our best.
He felt that there was now no alternative but to continue the struggle – a belief he still held, however half-heartedly, as late as 5 February:
Some more of our good men are falling by the way, but there can be no turning back for us now. One big effort from our friends everywhere and I think we would finally smash the Free State. Our people have a hard time of suffering before them, and we have of course to face the possibility of the British forces coming back and taking up the fight where the others lay it down – but God is good.79
He told McGarrity that he felt ‘if this war were finished Ireland would not have the heart to fight any other war for generations, so we must see it through.’
But the Civil War on the anti-Treatyite side had deteriorated into a series of skirmishes and attacks on soft targets. The family home of the Minister for Home Affairs, Kevin O’Higgins was attacked by ‘Irregulars’ at Stradbally, County Laois, on 11 February 1923. The haggard was set on fire and the raiding party then entered the house and shot dead Dr O’Higgins, the minister’s father, in the presence of his wife and daughter. In that climate, anything other than total victory was unacceptable to Cosgrave and his ministerial colleagues on the Executive Council. He told a delegation, representing neutral IRA on 27 February 1923, that that objective would be secured even if it meant having to kill 10,000 republicans.80
Among the anti-Treatyites to die was Charlie Daly from Knockane, Firies, County Kerry. He had joined the Irish Volunteers in 1913 where he rose in the ranks to adjutant. Arrested and returned for trial in summer 1917, Daly refused to recognise the courts and went on the run. In September 1918 he received a two-year jail sentence. Released in 1919 he took up his old position in the IRA and was elected to the Kerry County Council. He served as a brigade quarter master in the south until he was sent to Tyrone by headquarters in August 1920 as an organiser. He was arrested in Dublin and spent a few months in jail before being released. He was immediately appointed by Michael Collins as officer commanding the Second Northern Division in May 1921. Daly opposed the signing of the Treaty. He remained in Tyrone until April 1922. He was then sent by the anti-Treatyites to Donegal where he was subsequently arrested on 22 Novemb
er.81He was arrested with two Listowel men, Timothy O’Sullivan and Daniel Enwright, and another man, John Larkin, from Derry. Found guilty by court martial of being in possession of firearms and bombs, they were sentenced to death and jailed in Drumboe Castle, Stranorlar, County Donegal.82
Daly wrote on 7 February to his friend, Fr Brennan, of Castlemaine in Kerry, who was also his parish priest. He took advantage of the fact that he was writing to a priest to unburden himself and the letter went uncensored:
I would never have thrown away the prospects which were mine twelve months ago and gone through all this painful business with the knowledge of possibly meeting a fate such as mine may be without having been actuated by the purest of motives. I hope, Father, that you don’t think that I’ve said all this as an argument or in a spirit of opposition. Neither argument or opposition would do me any good situated as I am now. I am but as a man faced with probable death explaining my feelings and convictions to you and that only from the moral and religious point of view apart altogether from political arguments. You will, I am sure, understand my intention all the more readily as you happen to hold opinions different to mine.
Daly regarded the last war as a having been a glorious one: ‘Everything – patriotism, glory and the popular support of the people and clergy, impelled every Irishman worthy of the name to do his part in it.’ He regarded the Civil War, however, as being ‘that most horrible of all wars’ and were it not
... for my strong convictions as to its morality and righteousness I would never have taken part in it, or persisted in it afterwards, not against the common enemy but against our own comrades and dearest friends we have been compelled to turn our arms. This was repugnant enough in itself but was much more so when we had to do it at the cost of forfeiting the sacraments, which every Irish Catholic cherishes so much, and also with, to some of us, the thought of possibly imperilling our souls.
Daly found it particularly difficult to cope with the condemnation of the bishops. He had seen Bishop O’Sullivan a year ago and had not been persuaded by him that he was wrong in his judgement. He regretted that all the more because of the active role the bishop had played in the War of Independence. But as regards the stance of the hierarchy on the Civil War, Daly observed that ‘both national and church history of many countries – our own in particular – record similar parallels in the past and time has since shown that mistakes were made.’ But Daly remained on the anti-Treatyite side ‘which was not alone up against the power of a mighty empire, but was opposed by a power which, with me, counted far more – the power of the bishops’ opposition.’ That fact might have had the effect of keeping him neutral, ‘but then I am not one of those who can stand idly aside when a great national issue is at stake.’83
The four were told that they would be shot on 14 March 1923. The common local belief was that was a reprisal for the shooting of a Free State officer, Captain Bernard Cannon, at Creeslough on 10 March 1923, who was killed by a bullet to the heart fired during a raid on the local barracks. Writing to his father within hours of his execution, Daly had little doubt that he and the other executed men ‘will be with God in a couple of hours from now.’84His farewell letter to his mother was very devout and reassuring. Daly had no doubt about the morality of his actions or the justice of his cause. The local parish priest, Fr P. B. McMullen wrote to Daly’s friend, Fr P. J. Brennan on 21 March 1923. He asked the priest to contact Daly’s mother and explain that, although he had only known her son for a short time ‘I learned enough of him to see that he was far above the average and to respect him highly though in politics we stood far apart.’85
Bishop Patrick O’Donnell in Armagh, who also stood far apart from him on politics, spent ‘the entire evening’ trying to get through to Dublin. He got through after a few hours and sent his ‘most earnest representations against the executions.’86But the mercy plea did not prevail. Ironically, when the anti-Treatyites took local reprisals after the executions, among the large houses burned down were Bishop O’Donnell’s family home just outside Glenties.87Donegal, which had been relatively quiet, became involved ‘in grim earnest in the turmoil of the Civil War.’88
Military victory was in sight for the government forces. Peace initiatives, from whatever quarter, failed. The Archbishop of Cashel, Harty, did not meet with success and neither did the ill-fated representative of the pope, Salvatore Luzio.89He arrived in Ireland on 19 March. The hierarchy treated his mission with great suspicion. He was snubbed by the government and almost arrested when he went to meet Eamon de Valera at a secret rendezvous. The government sent an emissary to the Holy See and he reported on 24 April that Luzio was being recalled. The monsignor left for Rome on 7 May, glad to get away from the cold of the climate and the heat of the politics. He is believed to have remarked in disgust that he had come to meet the bishops and met twenty-six popes.
There had been considerable activity within the ranks of the IRA men in the south to secure a negotiated peace, with Tom Barry prominent among them. Despite the danger, a decision was taken to call a meeting of the army executive of the anti-Treatyites. They met on 24 March in a cottage in the Nire valley, County Waterford. During four days of discussions, de Valera placed peace proposals before the meeting based on three principles:
1) the inalienable right of the Irish people to sovereign independence;
2) recognition that the Irish people were the ultimate court of appeal;
3) no oath or test would debar a person taking a full share in the nation’s political life.90
A divided executive agreed to meet on 10 April. But news of that meeting leaked to the government side and large numbers of troops were deployed in the area. Liam Lynch was fatally wounded on 10 April in an engagement with government forces in the Comeragh mountains, County Waterford. Further arrests were made of senior IRA leaders in the days that followed.
At a meeting of the anti-Treatyite military executive on 20 April, Frank Aiken was elected to succeed Lynch. An Army Council of four was also appointed. It met in Dublin on 26 April together with de Valera and three members of his ‘cabinet’. A unanimous decision was taken to sue for peace, and to suspend all offensive action effective from 30 April. Both de Valera and Aiken issued statements on 27 April to that effect. De Valera then used the good offices of Senators Andrew Jameson and James Douglas to make contact with the government. They met on 1 May and took de Valera’s message to Cosgrave. The latter, however, refused de Valera’s request for personal negotiations. Instead, he gave Jameson a document for de Valera which set out the terms for surrender.91De Valera, countering, drafted another document which was rejected by Cosgrave on 8 May. The anti-Treatyite cabinet and Army Council met on 13 and 14 May. They took a decision not to surrender but to dump arms. That order was given on 24 May and it was accompanied by a statement from de Valera addressed to the ‘Soldiers of the Republic, Legion of the Rearguard’. The Civil War was over.
Writing to Mrs Jim Ryan on 26 December 1923, Mgr John Hagan, who had remained on the republican side, reflected on the events of the previous two years and wondered if they justified his ‘theory that there was never such a thing as genuine Irish nationality, and that we really are an amalgamation of clans, each well pleased with itself if it secures a job or prevails in some similar way over the other.’92
A general election was held on 27 August while the country was still in an unsettled state. Sinn Féin got 43 out of 153 seats. The Labour Party retained only 14 seats. The government party, Cumann na nGaedheal, which had been founded in March 1923, took a disappointing 63 seats in a Dáil which had been enlarged from 128. That was a gain of only five seats. Eamon de Valera had been arrested on an election platform in Ennis on 12 August 1923. He polled 17,762 to his Cumann na nGaedheal opponent’s 8,196. In jail, he joined about 10,000 anti-Treatyite internees, some of whom went on hunger strike. There was no official willingness, despite protestations from prominent clergymen, to allow an early mass release. De Valera was to be kept in jail until
his release on 16 July 1924.93
Why did the Free State forces wait until August 1923 to arrest de Valera? He had been quite visible during the Civil War, spending most of the time in Dublin shifting from one safe house to the next. It was not beyond the wit of Free State intelligence to track him down and to arrest him if they had wanted to do so.
Unfortunately military archives, which ought to be able to provide the answer to this question, do not have a file on Eamon de Valera. Neither is that missing file – or related files – to be found in the de Valera papers. Could it have been that he was seen – for all his faults – as a restraining influence on the anti-Treatyites and left in circulation for that very reason?
While the Civil War was not de Valera’s finest hour, he had the imagination and the constitutional subtlety to propose a compromise which was employed by a more flexible generation of English politicians in India in 1947. De Valera was not the revolutionary die-hard depicted in Free State and British propaganda of the time. He was a politician who, during the early months of 1922, continued to believe in his ability to rekindle the spirit of national unity fostered during the War of Independence. Naively, he did not believe that civil war was likely. But he did fear the ‘malevolent’ hand of the British and the ability of London politicians to interfere in Irish affairs. The outbreak of the war took him completely by surprise. His early impulse may have been to hold the field for a time until honour had been settled. But the adoption of guerrilla tactics, against his wishes, determined that the conflict would not be over in a few weeks. The war dragged on and de Valera found himself marginalised. He may have hoped that the Catholic hierarchy would intervene and bring about an end to the fighting. His hopes of that were dashed following the October pastoral. The bishops of his church had sided with ‘the enemy’. His efforts to bring the anti-Treatyite military under effective political control failed. The shooting of Erskine Childers and the policy of executions further removed any remaining possibility of a cessation of violence. Each side had its own new martyrs. The actions of the respective sides provided the rationale for their opponents to continue the fight. De Valera was sustained in his view by the belief that the British were to blame. It was his role to restore national unity and bring about national regeneration.94
