AND EIRE WAS BORN...

Auckland Star, Volume LXXI, Issue 237, 5 October 1940, Page 6 (Supplement)

AND EIRE WAS 80RN...

BEFORE the Irish Treaty, signed on December 6, 1921, war and a condition of non-peace had been the lot of Southern Ireland for more than six years. It began with the Easter Rising of 1916, when the Irish Republic was declared, and the rattle of musketry echoed through the streets of Dublin for a week. Three thousand armed irregulars held tactical points throughout the city, and the glow of burning buildings, until the last commandant, Eamon de Valera, was captured. 1

Britain was then at war elsewhere nnd the hand of the enemy was beneath this Irish rising. A magnanimous treatment of the Irish insurgents was scarcely to be expected though it would have been wise. The Republicans paid the full penalty of their action. Courtmartials and firing parties were busy for weeks.

The rising wu crashed, but the feeling of resentment which ensued was profound and widespread. The seeds of new horrors were sown, though they were not to fruitify for nearly three years. The First Dml When, in 1918, the British Parliament was dissolved and a general election followed, the Irish republicans put up candidates in *11 the Southern Irish constituencies. " In all but one they succeeded, but instead of taking their seats at Westminister, the new M.P.'s constituted the first Dail, or Republican Parliament, which unet in secret and proceeded to implement a policy of making British administration in Ireland impossible. Of this Republican Government, Eamon de Valera was the hekd.

From the beginning of 1919 to the summer of 1921, guerilla warfare raged in the 26 counties. There were few pitched battles. There was no front. Death struck srwiftly, unexpectedly, at individuals aiid at parties of men as they went about their duties or lay asleep in their beds. Homes, farms and public buildings went up in flames; orchards were cut down and banks raided. The grim story of outrage and reprisal, execution and counter-execution, is one that is better not revived.

While the situation in Southern Ireland was still at its worst, King George V., accompanied by Queen Mary, went to Belfast to inaugurate the new Legislature for the Northern province. It was a courageous act, for Republicans had penetrated the North, and the King, in whose name law was being enforced in the South, was not a target from which they would turn away, even if the attempt involved certain death for the assailants.

King George, as a constitutional monarch, always accepted the policy of his Ministers, but he, like most of his subjects, viewed with great distaste and concern the terrible rule of the gun which dominated Ireland south of the Border. In his speech to the Northern Parliament, the King said with deep emotion: "I appeal to all Irishmen to pause, to stretch out the hand of forbearance and conciliation, to forgive and forget and to join in making for the land which they love a new of peace, contentment and goodwill."

The Sovereign's speeches on such occasions are always prearranged with his Ministers. The passage in the Belfast speech is known to have been the subject of much discussion and drafting, in which the King's will was dominant.

The Ministers were now committed to make an exceptional effort to achieve peace' before putting into force those sterner measures which a purely military view of the situation showed to be necessary. Mystery Men

Contact with the Republicans was established. A truce followed, and arrangements were made for Mr. de Valera to meet Mr. Lloyd George. Accompanied by a number of his Ministers, "the President of the Irish Republic" arrived in London in mid-July. Rarely has London received stranger visitors. Some of these were men who, for long, had 'been "wanted." They had been "on the run." Others had been released from prison camps or prisons to attend. To the world, their names were familiar, but not their features. These Irishmen had good reason to suppress any photographs that existed, and they had not been in the habit of frequenting that were haunted by Press ere ' indeed, were

Eire has again become a danger-spot in the defence scheme of the liritish Commonwealth. This time there is no actirc revolt as in the lllaek Daps of 1910. The danger lies «n her neutrality. Eire is preparing to defend herself, but there is doubt whether she could do this effectively in the event of attack by jVa-i Germany. 80 once again British diplomacy is striving to find the answer—to repair the mistakes of the past. Much may depend on the result. It is interesting to look at the background of the present situation.

By H. A. Taylor

Their open appearance in the streets of London was one of the strangest scenes in the drama. Some of them even now avoided the cameras. The "war" was not over. Arms had not been surrendered. It seemed likely that hostilities would he resumed, for de Valera had not retreated one step from his demand for a republic nor the British Government from their refusal even to consider separation of Ireland from the Empire.

Meetings at this stage were confined to the two principals, Mr. Lloyd George and Mr. de Valera. They did not achieve much beyond an understanding v that there should be a conference of both sides in October to ascertain "how the association of Ireland with the community of nations known as the British Empire may best be reconciled with Irish national aspirations."

Mr. de Valera was not one of the delegates who came to London to discuss this large topic. They were an interesting group. Their leader was Arthur Griffith, de Valera's deputy, a stolid, persevering man whose integrity was as firm as his allegiance to the Sinn Fein cause. Picturesque Collins

Eclipsing Griffith in public interest was Michael Collins, head of the intelligence section of the movement. He had the personality that fascinates the mass mind, and the fact that the authorities at Dublin Castle had offered £10,000 (without avail) for his body, dead or alive, was the measure of his ability as the guiding mind behind insurgent activities.

Messrs. Duggan and Cavan Duffy were chosen for their ability as lawyers. Rdbert Barton, of a landed family, was educated at Oxford and was a former officer of the British Army; he had paid for his Sinn Fein loyalties by a period of imprisonment.

These five were .the executive delegates. Accompanying them were two secretaries, John Chartres and that strange, tragic figure, Erskine Childers, soldier and author of distinction, English by birth, but serving the republican cause with the usual zeal of the convert.

On the British side were Mr. Lloyd George, Lord Birkenhead, Sir Austen Chamberlain, Mr. Churchill, Sir Gordon Hewart, Sir Laming Wortliington Evans, and Sir Hamar Greenwood.

Such was the feeling between the parties that when the Irish delegates arrived at Downing Street, Mr. Lloyd George, by a tactful manoeuvre, absolved the two delegations from the courtesy of shaking hands. Thus they started from zero, warmed only by hope, and that, in most instances, a much qualified hope.

The gap between the parties was great, and the Irishmen suffered the handicap of possessing instructions from Dublin which, to say the least, were ambiguous. This circumstance would have mattered less had the Irishmen been members of a body with considerable experience of working together. But they were not. The Republican Cabinet to which they belonged was of recent creation.

Individually, they had rendered devoted service to their cause, but in circumstances that had afforded them few opportunities for studying the minds of one another, and, most important of all, the mind of their leader, Eamon de Valera, later, caused a split in the Republican . Cabinet and party, and produced civil war.

When at last the two delegations were gaining a little more confidence in one another, the talks were threatened with breakdown by a telegram sent by Mr. de Valera to the Pope. That storm, how-

ever, blew itself out, and the conference continued its course, one side trying to fit a republic • into an Empire (but very shy about the word "republic") and the other trying to make Southern Ireland into a Dominion, from which idea the Irishmen recoiled every time it was mentioned.

Negotiations were suspended for the Irishmen to return to Dublin to report progress.

Of progress with the bridging of the gulf there had been little. But at least the two sides had gained something in the form of mutual respect and understanding. Griffith and Chamberlain admired each other's honesty. Collins was not the "gunman" the Ministers had expected. Birkenhead was not the inhuman cynic the Irislimeai had been led to suppose. And so on. A certain friendliness had been born, and that was no small thing in a conference which began by an ingenious evasion of handshaking.

Correspondence and negotiations with Ulster caused new delays. The summer skies of July, under which Mr. de Valera had crossed for his preliminary talks with Mr. Lloyd George, gave place to the murk of December, and still there was no decision.

"We Must Know By 10 p.m." Mr. Lloyd George at length spoke out. The British Government could concede no more and debate no farther. The decision must be taken. The basis of a treaty must be agreed upon at once, or the conferences would break up and the contending armies return to their weapons.

Arthur Griffith, was willing to sign, to accept the delicately-phrased oath of allegiance, the constitution of a Free State, included within the Empire. He could see gains big enough to justify these concessions. But. what of his colleagues? Griffith spoke only for him-

self; and, with characteristic courage, he averred that, even if all the rest dissented, he would abide by his word. It was not Mr. Lloyd George's duty to win over the delegates one by one. It was for them to clear their minds, to take risks (as certain of the British delegates were taking risks) of denunciation by their own followers, or perhaps of the assassin's bullet. They must settle these issues among themselves. It was now eight in the evening, and Mr. Lloyd George was pledged to send to Belfast that night a letter stating definitely the final result of the conference. He showed the Irish delegates two letters already prepared, one covering the draft of the proposed treaty, the other announcing failure. By ten o'clock there would be a special train waiting at Euston and a destroyer at Holyhead to convey the courier, Mr. Geoffrey Shakespeare, with one or other of these messages. Which letter was to goT "We must know your answer by 10 p.m. . . . whether you will give peace or war to your country."

Ten o'clock came. Eleven passed, and the engine of the special train at Eustop. still puffed its steam ineffectually ac the stare.

The British Ministers had begun contemplate the steps necessary to resume with greater vigour a war that lad been in abeyance for nearly six months. For once even Lord Birkenhead was uncertain what kind of a speech he should make at a Birmingham meeting next day. . . . Away in Fleet Street harassed leader writers, lacking definite information, could see only failure, and had begun to write obituary notices of the conference, or to appeal despairingly for more time.

Shortly after eleven, a telephone rang in No. 10, Downing Street. The Irish delegates had set out from their quartera in Chelsea for Downing Street.

For three hours they had debated among themselves. Collins had early taken his stand beside Griffith. Duggan, too, made up his mind without great difficulty, and he was with Griffith. Barton dug in his heels, and so had Cavan Duffy. At ten o'clock, when the delegates should have "been back at Downing Street, they were still debating. In Dublin, where rumours of breakdown were current, men cleaned revolvers in back rooms and the military prepared operation orders for the morrow.

Not even when the Irish delegates filed into the Cabinet room at Downing Street could the British Ministers guess their decision. What was evident to all, however, was that these men had been through torment; their faces were set Some knew that they would pay with their lives for the decision they had taken.

After they had taken their seats, a strange silence ensued. Possibly it was only momentary; but it seemed oppressive. Then in level, undramatic voice, Arthur Griffith said: "Mr. Prime Minister, the delegation is willing to sign the agreement, but there are a few points of drafting which perhaps it would be convenient if I mentioned at once. . .

Amendments made, the much-corrected documents went off to the waiting typists—at one o'clock in the morning.

At last the party relaxed and talked without restraint. When at length the finished document was signed, the British Ministers walked round to the Irish side of the table and there, for the first time in their long series of meetings, the parties shook hands.

The following evening in Dublin, Eamon de Valera was making his way to the platform of the Mansion House to take the chair at a non-political function, when a long envelope was handed to" him. He had been travelling most of the day and though he had heard news of an agreement having being signed, he knew nothing of the terms. Even the news of signing puzzled him; for he had understood that the delegates were to aign nothing until they got all they demanded—in short, the Republic.

What Mr. de Valera thought as" he scanned the terms is not on record. But a few months later he was in the field again, directing a force against those who had signed; a force which, ultimately, was obliged to dump its arms.

Even so, Eamon de Valera now reigns in Dublin and every Irish signatory to the Treaty is dead, save two. The Irish Free State, too, is dead. The oath of allegiance is dead, and the last GovernorGeneral has taken his last walk in Phoenix Park.

Still a Dominion in name, Eire is practically a republic—a neutral State in which the "Irish question" is still debated. Again that troubled isle is prominently in the newfi. Another important decision has to be male by the Irish leaders—North and South—a decision that may be of vital importance to the Empire, of which Eire & still nominally a part. It may be that a common peril may yet do much to solve a problem that has defied debate—and been, already, the cause of too much heartbreak and bloodshed. Britain's new leaders have broken down many barriers of prejudice in recent months. That, at least, is a ground for hope.