MR LLOYD GEORGE'S ARTICLE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3590, 2 January 1923, Page 17

MR LLOYD GEORGE'S ARTICLE.

SITUATION REVIEWED. LONDON, December 22. [The following and all of Mr Lloyd George’s articles are copyright by the United Press Association in America (all countries), copyright in Australia and New Zealand by the Australian Press Association, copyright in Britain by the Daily Chronicle. Reproduction in full or part is prohibited.] Mr Lloyd George’s third article is devoted to the Irish Treaty, and it is notable chiefly for pen portraits of those figuring in Irish questions since Mr Gladstone’s Home Rule Bill nearly 30 years ago. “When the members of the House of Commons summoned the House of Lords to hear the Royal/ Assent to the Irish Constitution Bill,” Mr Lloyd George says, “two pictures flashed across my mind during the short procession to the House of Lords—firstly, Mr Gladstone’s great speech when introducing his Home Rule Bill, and secondly that of a dreary December night just a year ago, when four British representatives and five Irish leaders sat at a table in the Cabinet room in Downing street. In this simple council' chamber, where Pitt’s Act of Union and many other Irish measures had been discussed now came the final treaty of peace. Would it he signed? It was an anxious moment, charged with the destiny of two great races, who confronted each other. The climax of the decision had been reached. Britain had gone to the limit of her concession. No British statesman could have faced an assembly of his countrymen had he appended his signature to a constitution placing Ireland outsjde the fraternity of free nations known as the British Empire, or freeing her from the bonds of union represented by a common fealty to the Sovereign. Would the Irish leaders have the courage to make peace on the only conditions attainable?—namely, liberty within the Empire. Opposite me sat Mr Griffith, the most un-Irish leader that ever left Ireland. .-Quiet to the point of gentleness and reserved almost to the point of appearing a saturnine man of laconic utterance, he answered in monosyllables where most men would have considered an oratorical deliverance demanded by the dignity of the occasion, but we found that his ‘yea’ meant ‘yea,’ and his ‘nay’ meant ‘nay.’ He was aeked whether he would sign, and in an abrupt staccato manner he replied : ‘Speaking on my own behalf I mean to sign.’ By Mr Griffith’s side sat Mr Michael Collins, one of the most courageous leaders ever produced by a valiant race. Nevertheless, he hesitated painfully when the auiet, gentle, little figure on his left had taken his resolve. Both saw the shadow of doom clouding over the fatal paper. They knew that the pen which affixed their signature at the same moment signed their death warrant. The little man saw beyond his, own fall Ireland rising out of her troubles a free nation, and that suf Seed him. Mr Collins was not appalled by the spectre of death, but he had an Irishman’s fear of a charge of having succumbed to the alien will and having betrayed his country. It was the first time thfff Mr Collins had ever shown fear, and it was also the last. I knew the reason why he halted, although he uttered no word revealing his mind. I addressed my appeal to demonstrate how the treaty gave Ireland more than Mr O’Connell and Mr Parnell ever hoped for—that his country would be ever grateful to him, not only for the courage which won such an offer, hut for the wisdom that accepted it He asked for a few hours to consider the matter, promising to reply by 9 o’clock. Nine o’clock phased. 10 o’clock passed, and 11 o'clock passed, hut the leaders did not return, and we doubted whether we should see them again. Then came a message of their return to Downing street. When they entered it was clear from their faces that they had come to a, great decision after a' prolonged struggle. There were, however, difficulties of detail to be overcome, but soon after 1 o’clock the treaty was complete. Outside in the lobbv sat a man who used all his resources, well trained and backed by a tenacious will to wreck every endeavour to reach an agreement—Mr Erskine Childers, a man whose kindly, refined, 'and intellectual countenance, and whose charm and courteous demeanour offered no clue to the fierce passions which raged in his breast. At every critical point of the negotiations he played a sinister part. He was clearly de Valera’s emissary. Every draft that emanated from his pen (and all the first drafts were written by him) challenged every fundamental position to which the British delegates were irrevocably committed, and he was incapable of compro mise. Brave and resolute he undoubtedly was, but unhappily for himself he was also a rigid fanatic. When we left the room, worn with tense and anxious labour, we met Childers outside sullen with disap-

pointment and compressed wrath at what he conceived to be a surrender of the principles for which he had fought. Poor Collins was shot by his own countrymen, and Griffith died worn out by anxiety and toil. . Childers was shot at dawn for a rebellion against the liberties he had helped to win. Truly the path of Irish freedom right up to the goal is paved with tragedy, but the blood-stained wilderness is almost through, and the verdant plains of freedom stretch before the eyes of this tortured nation.”