I Signed My Death Warrant (23 page)

As the proposer of the resolution calling for the Dáil's ap­proval of the Treaty, Griffith was supposed to have the last word before the vote was taken, but de Valera again violated the procedure.

‘Before you take a vote,' he said, ‘I want to enter my last protest - that document will rise in judgment against the men who say there is only a shadow of difference'. He was obviously calling on deputies to reject the Treaty in favour of his own Doc­ument No. 2.

‘Let the Irish nation judge us now and for future years,' cried Collins.

The clerk of the Dáil began calling the role in the order of constituencies. Having been elected from Armagh, it fell to Collins to cast the first vote. With a faint smile he rose, paused momentarily, and answered slowly ‘Is toil.'

The clerk continued through the other names, with deputies voting either ‘Is toil,' or ‘Ní toil.'

When the names of the deputies from Cork were reached, Collins was again called upon to vote, but he declined to do so on the grounds that he had voted already. Likewise, when de Valera was called upon to vote for his second constituency, he declined, by shaking his head slowly and smiling across at Collins. But Griffith protested against the disenfranchisement of his second constituency.

It took about ten minutes to complete the voting and another couple of minutes before the announcement was made that the Treaty had been approved by sixty-four votes to fifty-seven. There was no real demonstration within the hall, but when news filtered outside there was a wave of enthusiastic cheering in the street, where a crowd of some hundreds had gathered. The cheering con­tinued for some minutes and seemed to stir those inside the chamber.

‘It will, of course, be my duty to resign my office as Chief Executive,' de Valera said. ‘I do not know that I should do it just now.'

‘No,' cried Collins.

‘There is one thing I want to say,' the president continued. ‘I want it to go to the country and to the world, and it is this: the Irish people established a Republic. This is simply approval of a certain resolution. The Republic can only be disestablished by the Irish people. Therefore, until such time as the Irish people in regular manner disestablish it, this Republic goes on.'

Collins called for a committee of public safety to be set up by both sides of the Dáil to preserve order. Some people thought de Valera was going to respond favourably until Mary MacSwiney intervened to denounce the vote just taken ‘as the grossest act of betrayal that Ireland ever endured'.

‘There can be no union between representatives of the Irish Republic and the so-called Free State,' she declared.

De Valera announced he would like to meet ‘all those who voted on the side of the established Republic' the following afternoon, and Collins repeated his appeal for ‘some kind of understanding' between the two factions ‘to preserve the present order in the country'.

‘I would like my last word here to be this,' de Valera res­ponded. ‘We have had a glorious record for four years, it has been four years of magnificent discipline in our nation. The world is looking at us now'

At this point he broke down, buried his head in his hands, and collapsed sobbing into his chair. It was a very emotional scene. Women were weeping openly, and Harry Boland was seen with tears running down his cheeks, while other men were visibly trying to restrain their tears.

Following the Dáil's acceptance of the Treaty, Collins sought to implement it as quickly as possible as a means of enlisting popular support. Convinced of the Treaty's enormous possibilities, he believed he could win over sceptics by demonstrating that the agreement could be used as a stepping-stone to complete independence.

At every step, however, he was confronted by the determination of his opponents. De Valera had first stated that the Treaty was a matter for the cabinet, but when the cabinet approved it, he said it was a matter for the Dáil, and when it became apparent that the Dáil would approve it, he contended that only the Irish people could ratify it.

‘The resolution recommending the ratification of a certain treaty is not a legal action,' he told the meeting of anti-Treaty deputies at the Mansion House on 8 January 1922. ‘That will not be completed until the Irish people have disestablished the Republic which they set up of their own free will.' Of course, it was the Dáil, which proclaimed the Irish Republic.

De Valera announced his resignation as president, but said he intended to run again on a platform of no co-operation in implementing the Treaty. While some journalists may have taken his earlier threat to retire from politics seriously, J. L. Garvin of
The Observer
refused to believe it. In a widely circulated article that was reprinted in the
New York Times,
he described the president as ‘a Robespierre who would send the dearest of his former friends to the guillotine for a formula and eat his dinner afterwards with self-righteousness.'

Collins called for a committee of public safety, made up of representatives from both sides of Sinn Féin, to replace the president until a general election could be held, but de Valera rejected this as unconstitutional. ‘This assembly must choose its executive according to its constitution,' he insisted.

Kathleen Clarke proposed de Valera for re-election ‘as Pre­sident of the Irish Republic'. But Collins was ready for the move. ‘We expected something like this,' he said. ‘We would have been fools if we had not anticipated it.' If de Valera were re-elected, he warned, ‘everybody will regard us a laughing stock'.

If re-elected, De Valera said he would ‘carry on as before' and ignore Treaty. ‘I do not believe that the Irish people, if they thoroughly understood it, would stand for it,' he added. It was not just his arrogance that critics found offensive, but also the smug, self-righteous way in which he sought re-election. It was as if he was saying that he wished to go back to private life but, because he was more intelligent than most Irish people and could see things that they could not understand, he would condescend to serve them. ‘Remember,' he said, ‘I am only putting myself at your disposal and at the disposal of the nation. I do not want office at all.'

‘I do not ask you to elect me,' he said, re-emphasising the point moments later. ‘I am not seeking to get any power whatever in this nation. I am quite glad and anxious to get back to private life.'

If de Valera was re-elected, Collins said that he would quit. ‘I will go down to the people of South Cork and tell them that I did my best, that I could bring the thing no further.'

‘There is only one man who can lead us properly and keep us all together,' Brugha interjected. ‘If Eamon de Valera did not happen to be President who would have kept Arthur Griffith, Michael Collins and myself together?'

‘That is true,' replied Collins. ‘It is not today or yesterday it started.'

‘I only wish to God we could be brought together again under his leadership,' Brugha continued. ‘I only wish it was possible.'

‘It is not, though,' said Collins.

Griffith depicted the president's tactics as a ‘political manoeuvre to get round the Treaty.' It was an attempt to exploit the emotions of deputies. ‘There is no necessity for him to resign today,' Griffith added. ‘His resignation and going up again for re-election is simply an attempt to wreck this Treaty.'

As nobody else had been nominated for president, Stack argued that de Valera ‘has been re-elected unanimously'.

‘Well, I am voting against anyway,' Collins insisted. He tried to nominate Griffith, but the Speaker ruled the Dáil would have to vote on de Valera's nomination first.

As the roll was called de Valera declined to vote in an ap­parent effort to dramatise that he personally did not want the office. This might easily have been a very costly gesture, because the vote was extremely close. He was only defeated by 60 votes to 58. If just one deputy had voted in favour instead of against de Valera, his own vote would have given him victory by 60 votes to 59.

The difficulties of implementing the Treaty in the face of obstructionist opposition became apparent when Collins proposed Griffith as ‘President of the Provisional Executive,' rather than as president of the Dáil, or of the Irish Republic. Article 17 of the Treaty stipulated that ‘a meeting of members of Parliament elected for constituencies in Southern Ireland' should meet to select a Provisional Government – all the members of which had to signify in writing their acceptance of the Treaty.

The Dáil could authorise the establishment of the Provisional Government so that it would have continuity from the Irish people. This would make no practical difference, but de Valera was adamant that the Dáil could not transfer any of its authority, or do anything to implement the Treaty, without the prior approval of the Irish people. He was insisting, that until the Treaty was ratified there would have to be two Irish governments – the Dáil executive, which would be recognised under Irish law, and the Provisional Government, which would take over the administration at Dublin Castle and would thus only be recognised under British law.

In effect, that argument was about whether Griffith could call himself Chairman of the Provisional government as well as president of the Dáil. It was ironic that de Valera, of all people, should be so obstinate over the title, seeing that he had changed the title from
priomh aire
to president back in 1919 without even informing much less consulting his colleagues. It was more than two years before he asked the Dáil to regularise the constitutional position with an oblique amendment in August 1921.

The wrangle over the Griffith's title was not resolved until next day when de Valera was given his own way. ‘If I am elected,' Griffith told the Dáil, ‘I will occupy whatever position President de Valera occupied.'

‘Hear, hear,' exclaimed de Valera. He had won his point. ‘I feel that I can sit down in this assembly while such an election is going on.' But minutes later, however, he changed his mind and announced that he was walking out of the Dáil ‘as a protest against the election as President of the Irish Republic of the Chairman of the Delegation who is bound by the Treaty.' He and his supporters left the chamber in what could only be described as a contemptuous insult towards what he insisted was the sovereign assembly of the nation. It was all the worse in the face of the conciliatory attitude adopted by his opponents.

Collins was indignant. ‘Deserters all!' he shouted at those leaving. ‘We will now call on the Irish people to rally to us. Deserters all!'

Countess Markievicz turned and shouted back: ‘Oath breakers and cowards.'

‘Foreigners – Americans – English,' snapped Collins.

‘Lloyd Georgeites,' cried Markievicz. Mary MacSwiney also shouted something but her words were drowned out amid cries of ‘Up the Republic' and the counter taunts of those remaining in the chamber. The sordid spectacle was mercifully ended as the last of the dissidents left the chamber.

Griffith was then elected without further opposition. He proceeded to call a meeting of the southern parliament, but in obvious deference to the de Valera group, he did not do so as president of the Dáil, but as chairman of the delegation that negotiated the Treaty. The southern parliament was a smaller body than the Dáil, because everyone elected to the Stormont was entitled to sit in the Dáil. In practice this made little difference because all the deputies who took their Dáil seats, with the one exception of Seán Milroy – a pro-Treaty deputy from County Fermanagh – had been elected in the 26 counties.

Members of the second Dáil had been elected under the machinery to set up the southern parliament, which was supposed to set up the Provisional government. It was therefore summoned but only pro-Treaty deputies and the unionists elected at Trinity College turned up at the Mansion House on Saturday, 14 January 1922. The gathering promptly approved the Treaty without a division. The appointment of an eight-man Provisional Government under the chairmanship of Collins was the approved. The Dáil cabinet had agreed this in advance. They were just going through the motions of duplicating everything to satisfy both de Valera and the British. It was really only a cosmetic exercise. Others might have highlighted the significance of the occasion with some kind of ceremonial address, but not Collins.

‘We did not come here to speak, but to work,' he said. The whole thing was over in forty-five minutes.

Ever since the establishment of the Dáil there had been two administrations in Ireland – the Dáil and the crown regime at Dublin Castle. In theory this arrangement was continuing with Collins and the Provisional Government taking over at Dublin Castle. With the exception of Griffith and Mulcahy, members of the Dáil cabinet were appointed to the same portfolios in the Provisional Government, so the two administrations were effectively combined under the dual leadership of Griffith and Collins. They had worked well together while de Valera was in the United States, and again during the Treaty negotiations. Hence the dual set up established to placate de Valera, was never likely to be more than a minor inconvenience.

When Collins went to Dublin Castle to receive his commission as chairman of the Provisional Government from the lord lieut­enant, he was uncharacteristically late. As he alighted from a taxi an official approached him looking at his watch. ‘Mr Collins,' he said, ‘you're seven minutes late, and you have kept the Lord Lieutenant waiting.'

‘You people are here 700 years,' Collins replied. ‘What bloody difference will seven minutes make now that you are leaving?'

There was a kind of ceremonial changing of the guard, as Irish soldiers marched in and British soldiers marched out. The Big Fellow, who was obviously uncomfortable at the thought of receiving his commission from the representatives of the British king, put his own spin on the events, not just by keeping the lord lieutenant waiting, but more especially by issuing a formal statement afterwards: ‘Members of
Rialtas Sealadacht na hÉireann
[Provisional Government of Ireland] received the surrender of Dublin Castle at 1.45 pm today,' he announced. ‘It is now in the hands of the Irish nation.' Thereafter the events of the day would be remembered as ‘the surrender of Dublin Castle'.

One of the more surprising aspects of the Treaty was the paucity of opposition to the partition clauses. Most of the Dáil seem to accept the interpretation of Collins that if Stormont did not agree to be subservient to the Dáil, the Boundary Commission would transfer so much territory than Northern Ireland would become an unviable economic entity, and partition would be ended one way or another. Why did people so readily accept this interpretation?

For one thing, Lloyd George had indicated during the Treaty debate in the House of Commons that if Stormont did not agreed to a united Ireland, counties like Fermanagh and Tyrone could only remain within Northern Ireland by force, and he made it clear that he was opposed to such force. Moreover, Collins in­dicated privately that he had received some kind of informal assurance from the British during the negotiations.

During the Treaty debate in the Dáil, for instance, Collins used to meet regularly with IRB colleagues like Seán Ó Muirthile, Joe McGrath, and P. S. O'Hegarty. One evening O'Hegarty mentioned he was surprised at how the anti-Treaty people were essentially ignoring the partition issue.

‘It's an astonishing thing to me,' he said, ‘that in the attack on the Treaty practically nothing is said about partition, which is the one real blot on it.'

‘Oh, but that is provided for,' Ó Muirthile replied. ‘Didn't you know?'

‘How is it provided for?' O'Hegarty asked. ‘Ulster will opt out.'

‘Before they signed,' Ó Muirthile explained, ‘Griffith and Collins got a personal undertaking from Smith [Birkenhead] and Churchill that if Ulster opted out they would get only four counties and that they would make a four-county government impossible.'

O'Hegarty looked over at Collins, who grinned. ‘That's right,' he said.

De Valera and Collins soon began travelling to political rallies throughout the country at which the Treaty was the main issue. At a rally in Cork on Sunday, 19 February, de Valera raised the political temperature. ‘If the Treaty was signed under duress,' he said, ‘the men who went to London broke faith with the Irish people. If it was signed without duress they were traitors to the cause.' The following weekend he addressed rallies in Limerick and Ennis.

Collins and Griffith responded with a massive rally near Trinity College, Dublin, the following Sunday, 5 March. Collins accused de Valera and his supporters of exploiting the situation. ‘They are stealing our clothes,' Collins said. ‘We have beaten out the British by the means of the Treaty. While damning the Treaty, and us with it, they are taking advantage of the evacuation.'

‘The arrangement in regard to North-East Ulster is not ideal,' he said. ‘But then the position in North-East Ulster is not ideal. If the Free State is established, however, union is certain.' Rejecting the Treaty, on the other hand, would ‘perpetuate partition'. Behind the scenes Collins was contributing to the unrest in northern Ireland by secretly supplying the IRA in the north with weapons as the British armed the forces of the Provisional Government. He even connived at the kidnapping of unionists to be held as hostages against the execution of three men in Derry, whose sentences had actually been commuted hours earlier.