I Signed My Death Warrant (21 page)

In other words, de Valera explained, the alternative would not ‘recognise the right of any part of Ireland to secede', but for the sake of internal peace and in order to divorce the Ulster question from the overall Anglo-Irish dispute, he was ready to accept the partition clauses of the Treaty, even though he found them objectionable from the standpoint that they provided ‘an explicit recognition of the right on the part of Irishmen to secede from Ireland'.

‘We will take the same things as agreed on there,' the presi­dent told the Dáil. ‘Let us not start to fight with Ulster.'

Collins welcomed Document No. 2 because it confirmed his contention that the delegation had practically achieved its aim. ‘The issue has been cleared considerably by the document the President has put in,' he explained. The alternative was basically in line with the proposals put forward by the delegation during the latter stages of the conference.

‘We put this before the other side with all the energy we could,' Collins said. ‘That is the reason that I wanted certain vital documents and these will show that the same proposals that the President has now drafted have been put already.' Consequently he thought it would be pointless trying to get the British to accept Document No. 2. They would not even listen to any delegation that went back and tried to substitute the alternative for the Treaty. He predicted the British would say, ‘You can go to the devil; you can't speak for anyone: you can't deliver the goods.'

De Valera appeared to confirm this assessment of his own proposals. ‘No politician in England would stand by them,' he admitted. ‘Because they would have the same difficulty in legally ratifying this proposed Treaty that I hold our delegates have in ratifying it here constitutionally. It would not be a politician's peace but a people's peace.' He subsequently made the same statement in public.

After the cabinet accepted the Treaty, de Valera essentially argued that this meant nothing that it was a matter for the Dáil, but at the end of the third day of the private session, he recognised that a majority of the Dáil were likely to support the Treaty. ‘I know that most of you will vote for ratification of the Treaty,' he admitted. But he already seemed to be saying that this did not matter either, because it was really a matter for the people. ‘The Republic will not be disestablished until it is disestablished by the will of the people,' he said. ‘This assembly cannot ratify a Treaty which takes away from the Irish people the sovereignty of the Irish people,' he emphasised the following morning.

In some respects Collins actually believed the Treaty was better than Document No. 2, but he was keeping his views to himself until the public session resumed. ‘Anything I have to say will be said in public,' he told the Dáil on the first afternoon of the private session. ‘In my opinion no good purpose is served by making speeches in the private session that can be made in the public session.'

Describing the External Associations clauses of the alter­native as a dangerously loose paraphrase of the Treaty, Collins later complained that Ireland would be committed to an asso­ciation so vague that Britain might be able to press for con­­trol of Irish affairs as a matter of common concern amongst the countries of the British commonwealth. Ireland would not have the same status as the dominions, with the result that the dominions would not have a vested interest in ensuring that the Dublin government would not be forced to make special concessions to Britain. Such concessions would not establish a precedent for relations between Britain and the dominions as would be the case under the terms of the Treaty. Thus Collins believed that Document No. 2 ‘had neither the honesty of complete isolation' nor the advantages of ‘free partnership'. He admitted there were restrictions in both the Treaty and the president's alternative. ‘But,' he added, ‘the Treaty will be operative, and the restrictions must gradually tend to disappear as we go on, more and more strongly solidifying and establishing ourselves as a free nation.'

De Valera quickly realised that he had made a tactical error in introducing Document No. 2. He therefore withdrew the document at the end of the private session.

Collins found the debate a particular strain. ‘In a few days I may be free from everything and then we can see how the future goes,' he wrote to Kitty Kiernan at the end of the second day. ‘It's a dreadful strain and it's telling a good deal on me.' He was still writing on similar lines at the end of the private session on 18 December.

‘All this business is very very sad – Harry has come out strongly against us. I'm sorry for that, but I supposed that like many another episode in this business must be borne also. I haven't an idea of how it will all end but with God's help all right. In any event I shall be satisfied.'

When Collins entered the Dáil for the resumption of the public session the following Monday, 19 December 1921, something was obviously wrong. He was not smiling as usual. Instead he looked sour and he slammed his attaché case down on the table in front of him before taking his seat.

On opening the session the speaker announced that the president wished to inform the Dáil that Document No. 2 was ‘withdrawn and must be regarded as confidential until he brings his own proposal formally'. Griffith and Collins objected vociferously before the speaker made it clear that he was not ruling on the issue. Each individual deputy would be free to decide whether or not to comply with de Valera's request.

Griffith formally proposed the motion ‘That Dáil Éireann approves the Treaty between Great Britain and Ireland, signed in London on December 6th, 1921.' In the course of his speech he complained about not being able to refer to Document No. 2 and also the fact that some people were representing themselves as having ‘stood uncompromisingly on the rock of the Republic – the Republic, and nothing but the Republic.'

‘It has been stated also here that,' he continued, ‘the man who won the war – Michael Collins – compromised Ireland's rights. In the letters that preceded the negotiations not once was a demand made for recognition of the Irish Republic. If it had been made we knew it would have been refused. We went there to see how to reconcile the two positions and I hold we have done it.'

The Treaty was seconded by Seán MacEoin. Then de Valera spoke. ‘I am against this Treaty because it does not reconcile Irish national aspirations with association with the British Government,' he declared. ‘I am against this Treaty, not because I am a man of war, but a man of peace. I am against this Treaty because it will not end the centuries of conflict between the two nations of Great Britain and Ireland.'

The president, who never even alluded to the partition ques­tion, kept his remarks very general as he contended the Treaty was ‘absolutely inconsistent with our position; it gives away Irish independence; it brings us into the British Empire; it acknowledges the head of the British Empire, not merely as the head of an association but as the direct monarch of Ireland, as the source of executive authority in Ireland.' Basically the oath was the only aspect of the Treaty to which he took specific exception during his speech.

De Valera's opposition to the oath was by no means straight forward. He had already told the private session that he had suggested that the Irish people could swear ‘to keep faith with his Britannic Majesty'. Moreover during the Dáil debate he told an American correspondent, Hayden Talbot of the Hearst newspaper chain, that his problem was not with swearing to be ‘faithful to the King'. He did not find the word ‘faithful' objectionable at all because he said it could be taken in the context of ‘the faithfulness of two equals' to uphold a bargain. His real problem with the oath was in swearing ‘allegiance to the constitution of the Irish Fee State as by law established.' This, he argued, would be tantamount to swearing direct allegiance to the crown, seeing that the law which would establish the Free State constitution would be enacted by the British parliament in the name of the crown. The Provisional Government, which would take over the administration of Ireland from the British would not be set up by the Dáil, but by the southern Irish parliament established under the partition act passed at Westminster. Thus the Provisional Government would derive its authority from the British king in whose name parliament had passed the partition act in the first place. In addition the Free State constitution, which would be drafted by the Provisional Government, would be enacted at Westminster, with the result that if the British had the acknowledged right to enact the Irish constitution in the name of their king, then it would automatically follow that they could amend the constitution if they wished. They would, in effect, be legally able to act in the king's name to interfere in Irish affairs at will.

Stack then seconded de Valera's opposition to the Treaty. In the course of his speech he bragged about being the son of a Fenian. As was mentioned earlier Moore Stack had been arrested in 1886 and sentenced to ten years in jail. While incarcerated he wrote to the crown authorities explaining that some colleagues had previously suspected him of informing and he proceeded to outline all he purported to know about the Fenian organisation. While researching a biography of Austin Stack more than a century later, Fr J. Anthony Gaughan would find this letter after it was opened under the existing hundred-year secrecy rule. ‘Some experienced person should be instructed to see me when it is probable that many things which do not occur to me may be elicited on a personal interview,' Moore Stack added. Of course, it would be wrong to blame the behaviour of the father on the son, especially as he was not even born at the time, but Austin Stack was on dubious ground when he invoked the patriotism of his father in the fight against the Treaty.

Collins did not speak until immediately after a lunchtime break. As the Dáil reassembled there was a great buzz of excitement and expectation. ‘At the back of the hall visitors, clergymen and telegraph messengers crushed forward to hear,' according to the
Freeman's Journal.
‘A Japanese journalist was wedged in the crowd, and three coloured gentlemen from Trinidad – medical students – leant forward to view the scene' when Collins rose to continue the debate. He was the focus of everyone's attention. ‘His flashing eyes, firm jaw, and thick black hair, through which he ran his fingers from time to time, were all revealed under the dazzling light of the electoliers.'

‘Mr Collins was passionate, forcible, and at times almost theatrical,' according to
The Irish Times
. Although he had a pre­pared speech before him, he rarely consulted it. Now and again he would rummage among his papers, feel his smooth chin, or toss his hair with one of his hands. At times he stood erect and at other times he learned forward. He spoke slowly until aroused by the intensity of his conviction, and then vibrating with emotion, the words would come in a torrent.

Early in the address he complained that a deputy had suggested the delegation had broken down before the first bit of British bluff. ‘I would remind the deputy who used that expression,' the Big Fellow said indignantly, ‘that England put up a good bluff for the last five years here and I did not break down before that bluff.'

‘That's the stuff,' someone shouted while the gathering ap­­­plauded.

Collins said that he was recommending the Treaty as one of the signatories. ‘I do not recommend it for more than it is,' he emphasised. ‘Equally I do not recommend it for less than it is. In my opinion it give us freedom, not the ultimate freedom that all nations desire and develop to, but the freedom to achieve it.'

As a result of the guarantee of the ‘constitutional status' of dominions like Canada and South Africa, he contended that those countries would be ‘guarantors of our freedom, which makes us stronger than if we stood alone'. He admitted that allowing Britain to retain four ports was a ‘departure from the Canadian status', but he felt the Free State's association with the dominions on an equal footing would ensure that Britain would not use the ports ‘as a jumping off ground against us'. He also admitted the partition clauses were ‘not an ideal arrangement, but if our policy is, as has been stated, a policy of non-coercion, then let somebody else get a better way out of it.' He had planned to compare the Treaty with Document No. 2 but explained that in deference to the president's request, he would not make use of his prepared arguments.

‘Rejection of the Treaty means that your national policy is war,' Collins continued. ‘I, as an individual, do not now, nor more than ever shirk war. The Treaty was signed by me, not because they held up the alternative of immediate war. I signed it because I would not be one of those to commit the Irish people to war without the Irish people committing themselves.' This was a rather ironic statement coming from him in the light of his own role in deliberately trying to precipitate a state of general disorder back in 1919.

According to one seasoned parliamentarian, Collins' speech was ‘worthy of a lawyer as well as a politician. It was big enough for a trained statesman. I was surprised by its precision and detail, and rhetoric,' Tim Healy wrote. Interspersing the speech with some wry humour Collins observed that one deputy had complained the Free State could not enjoy the same freedom as Canada because that freedom was largely dependent on that country's distance from Britain. ‘It seems to me,' Collins continued alluding to the same deputy, ‘that he did not regard the delegation as being wholly without responsibility for the geographical propinquity of Great Britain to Ireland.'

The speech also contained what may well have been a subtle effort to depict some of his leading opponents as something less than fully Irish. ‘I am a representative of Irish stock,' Collins said. ‘I am the representative equally with any other member of the same stock of people who have suffered through the terror in the past. Our grandfathers have suffered from war, and our fathers or some of our ancestors have died of famine. I don't want a lecture from anybody as to what my principles are to be now. I am just a representative of plain Irish stock whose principles have been burned into them, and we don't want any assurance to the people of this country that we are not going to betray them We are one of themselves.'

Few people would have failed to notice that some of the leaders on the other side of the floor, like the American-born de Valera with his Spanish father, or Childers and Brugha with their English backgrounds – were not able to boast of such strong Irish ancestry.

It was a trying day for Collins, who afterwards explained to Kitty that it was ‘the worst day I ever spent in my life.' He wrote that ‘the Treaty will almost certainly be beaten and no one knows what will happen. The country is certainly quite clearly for it but that seems to be little good, as their voices are not heard.'

According to Desmond Ryan, who witnessed the proceedings as a journalist, the debate developed into ‘one long wrestle be­tween ghosts and realities with all the stored up personal spleen of five years flaming through the rhetoric.' He concluded the two groups in the Dáil appeared ‘to hate each other far more than they ever hated the Black and Tans'.

Numerous speakers argued that the various dead heroes would never have accepted the Treaty, but Collins decried the practice. ‘Out of the greatest respect for the dead,' he complained, ‘we have refrained from reading letters from relatives of the dead. We have too much respect for the dead.' He thought that deputies should not presume to speak for those deceased, though he was understanding when Kathleen Clarke, the widow of one of the 1916 leaders, told him that evening that she was going to vote against the Treaty because she believed her late husband would have wished to do so.

‘I wouldn't want you to vote for it,' Collins told her. ‘All I ask is that if it is passed, you give us the chance to work it.'

With Christmas approaching and no likely end to the debate in sight, Collins proposed that Dáil recess on 23 December until January 3 1922. He realised that this would have the advantage of allowing the deputies from around the country to consult their constituents. Even de Valera had admitted the majority of the people were in favour of the Treaty. Countess Markievicz seconded the recess motion.

Seán MacEntee proposed an amendment for the debate to continue ‘until we finish, and that there be no adjournment over Christmas. Instead of seeing any national advantage I see a grave national danger in adjourning.' The amendment was seconded and a vote taken, with de Valera, Brugha, Stack and Childers voting to continue the debate, but the amendment was defeated by 77 votes to 44. The substantive motion proposed by Collins was then put and carried by acclamation.

During that recess the press, which was solidly behind the Treaty, encouraged local bodies to endorse the agreement, and more than twenty county councils responded in a unanimous show of support. But the struggle for ratification was to become a long drawn-out affair. Labour Party leaders took the initiative during the recess to try to avoid a division in the Dáil on the question of the Treaty. They suggested the Dáil allow the Treaty to become operative by passing legislation to establish the southern Parliament as a committee of the Dáil so that the Provisional Government would also derive its authority from the Dáil. De Valera's strongest objections could be surmounted in this way and the Irish people would be given an opportunity of evaluating the Treaty in practice.

From a practical standpoint Collins really did not care whether Irish freedom was symbolically derived from the British or anyone else, so long as that freedom was real. He therefore welcomed the Labour Party initiative. ‘I think there are the basis of something that can be hammered into an agreement,' he told the Labour Party representatives on 23 December. Griffith, too, was hopeful on Christmas Day, but de Valera rejected the plan two days later.

Nevertheless Collins was not prepared to forget about the initiative so easily. When the Dáil reconvened on 3 January, 1922 he suggested the Treaty be accepted without a division and the Dáil then authorise the establishment of the Provisional Government so that it could demonstrate the extent of the country's freedom. ‘If necessary,' he said to those across the floor, ‘you can fight the Provisional Government on the Republican question afterwards.'

‘We will do that if you carry ratification, perhaps,' the presi­dent replied, spurning the suggestion.

Interviewed that evening, Collins explained that he was not asking his opponents to do anything dishonourable:

They are not asked to abandon any principle; they may, if need be, act as guardians of the interests of the nation – act as guarantors of Irish requirements, and act as censors of the Government of the Irish Free State. The Government of the Irish Free State may have difficulties in carrying on and in fulfilling promises contained in the Treaty. If these promises are less in their working out than we who are standing for the Treaty declare, then there is a glorious opportunity for the present opponents of the Treaty to show their ability to guard the Irish nation and to act on its behalf. At the present moment we ask not to be hampered, and if we do not achieve what we desire and intend, we shall willingly make room for the others, and they will have no more loyal supporters than ourselves. This is the one way of restoring unity in the Dáil and to preserve [it] as a body truly representative of the Irish people.