One hundred years ago this month, on July 11, a truce was declared between the armed forces of the British Army and the rebel republican forces in Ireland after two years of conflict.
With it becoming increasingly clear that neither side could win outright, a move toward a peaceful settlement gathered pace.
During that summer of 1921, an extraordinary series of letters were exchanged between the self-declared President of the Irish Republic, Éamon de Valera and the British prime minister David Lloyd George.
The correspondence ultimately led to the Anglo-Irish Treaty, but it also reveals de Valera’s divisive power struggle with Michael Collins and how, by refusing to attend the final treaty talks, he abandoned his people and allowed Collins and Arthur Griffith to be blamed for selling out the Republic.
Following their release from English and Welsh prisons, where they were sent for their role in the 1916 Rising, republican leaders throughout Ireland began organising again, determined not to repeat the failure of Easter Week. Overwhelmingly outmanned and outarmed by the British, the young leaders of the fledgling Irish army (the IRA), including Michael Collins, would do things differently this time.
They refused to behave like a legitimate national army that would engage in attacks on large-scale targets. Instead, given the IRA's numerical and military inferiority, they resorted to far more effective tactics — hit-and-run guerrilla warfare.
Ruthless and calculating, Collins and the IRA began attacking British government property, raided barracks and bases for arms and funds, and targeted and killed prominent members of the British administration. The first target was resident magistrate John C Milling, who was shot dead in Westport, Co Mayo, for having sent IRA volunteers to prison for unlawful assembly and drilling. Combined with Collins's infiltration of British intelligence, these attacks succeeded in creating panic and mayhem in Dublin Castle, the heart of the British administration in Ireland.
The conflict, which became known as the Irish War of Independence began in January 1919 and was fought between the Irish, and the British occupying forces in Ireland. It lasted two and a half years and cost more than 2,000 lives.
In response, the British declared martial law in Ireland in 1920 and sought to “play the enemy at their own game”. Rogue forces, separate from the regular army, namely the Black and Tans and the Auxiliaries, were established and committed some outrageous atrocities against Irish civilians.
“We have murder by the throat,” Liberal British prime minister David Lloyd George told a London audience.
Upon their arrival in Ireland in 1920, the Tans rapidly earned a reputation for ill-discipline and drunkenness, and did more damage to the British government's moral authority in Ireland than any other group. In response to IRA attacks, in the summer of 1920, the Tans burned and ransacked several small towns and villages across Ireland, including Trim, Balbriggan and Templemore.
In December 1920, Éamon de Valera, the president of the banned Irish parliament, the Dáil, returned to Ireland following an 18-month tour of America that had been aimed at securing recognition of an independent Irish republic.
Once home, having failed to gain that recognition, de Valera immediately sought to reassert his authority over the Dáil, the IRA and his party Sinn Féin, chiefly at the expense of Michael Collins, whose influence and power had risen immeasurably while “the Chief” had been in America.
de Valera's absence had allowed the IRA's guerrilla campaign to flourish under the direction of young men such as Collins and Risteárd Mulcahy. de Valera, the statesman, favoured classic, conventional warfare to legitimise the new republic in the eyes of the world. However, with de Valera in the US, Collins and the broader IRA leadership's desire to cause “mayhem and chaos” won out.
Collins, just 29 years old, had become the romantic rebel darling of the Irish and international media, yet was branded “Collins the murderer” by some British media. He was the mysterious, bicycle-riding commander of young assassins, master of intelligence, serial womaniser and minister for finance of the insurgent parliament, and all while he had a price of £10,000 on his head. He was a powerful force to combat.
On his return, de Valera made known his deep distaste for Collins's insurgency and, given his desire for international sympathy, he sought to legitimise the campaign against Britain. Rather than continue the hit-and-run attacks on British soldiers and bases, he ordered the army to engage in large-scale operations, and to act like a “national army”.
On May 25, 1921, against the express wishes of Collins, de Valera ordered the IRA to attack and burn the Custom House, which was a cataclysmic failure, resulting in the deaths of five IRA men and the capture of more than 80. “We lost more men in the abortive attack on the Customs House than we did in 40 operations,” Collins complained.
After two years of incredible violence, atrocities and reprisals, both the British and Irish were anxious to end the strife. The British were under significant international pressure to accede to demands of recognition from Irish nationalists, and the Irish army had achieved all it was likely to. For their part, Collins and his men were exhausted, depleted and barely holding on. “In some places we are down to counting bullets,” he confided to his top men. But on what terms would peace be decided?
That summer, a key speech by King George V at the opening of the Belfast parliament on June 22, 1921, set in train a series of events that would change Irish history forever. “I call on 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 they love, a new era of peace, contentment and goodwill,” he said.
Lloyd George, known as the Welsh Wizard, who had led Britain to victory in the Great War, was somewhat reluctant to tackle the Irish problem, given his shaky coalition with the pro-unionist Tories. “This country was united in its desire to defeat Germany, it has never been united on Ireland. My government is a shaky coalition which I barely hold together,” he said privately.
Despite his reservations, just two days after the king's address in Belfast, Lloyd George wrote to de Valera, as the “chosen leader of the great majority in Southern Ireland” and to James Craig, “the Premier of Northern Ireland”, inviting them both to a conference in London to explore the “utmost possibility of a settlement”.
He said that the invitation was made “with a fervent desire to end the ruinous conflict which has for centuries divided Ireland and embittered the relations of the people of these two islands, who ought to live in neighbourly harmony with each other”.
Given that daily atrocities were still taking place on the streets of Dublin, Lloyd George also offered safe passage to de Valera and all those he sought to bring with him to the conference.
The arrival of Lloyd George's letter at the Mansion House in Dublin immediately caused a split within de Valera's rebel cabinet. Republican die-hards such as Austin Stack and defence minister Cathal Brugha were opposed to any talks, perhaps knowing that the British would never agree to a republic. “Throw it in the waste-paper basket, let's continue the war,” Brugha told de Valera.
In sharp contrast, Collins, the effective leader of the IRA, much to the annoyance of Brugha, felt no more could be achieved through force alone. His depleted and exhausted ranks were low on morale and ammunition, and unlikely to hold on much longer. “We've driven them to the table, so let's talk to them,” Collins told de Valera, in one of their many heated exchanges during this period.
In responding to Lloyd George, de Valera kicked for touch. He said no settlement was possible if the British denied Ireland's “essential unity”. He said that before replying fully to the invitation, he sought a conference with the “political minority” in the North.
On the same day, de Valera wrote to Craig and other leading Belfast unionists, inviting them to a conference in the Mansion House the following Monday to discuss what reply he would give to Lloyd George.
Craig declined the invitation, but some unionists did travel to Dublin, and it was agreed that if any conference in London were to take place, violence and bloodshed on the streets in Ireland must cease.
In his letter, Lloyd George indicated he was willing to assent to a suspension of active operations in Ireland, clearing the way for de Valera to accept his invitation of June 24.
“I am ready to meet and discuss with you on what basis such a conference can hope to achieve the object desired,” the prime minister wrote.
By now, Collins was deeply uneasy. While realising that the war could not be won and that his army was all but defeated, he feared a truce would expose his secret organisation, which would be easy for the British to smash, if the violence began again. “The Truce brings us all out in the open, like rabbits coming out of their holes, we won't be a secret army anymore,” Collins said.
Collins again clashed furiously with de Valera, when he was told he would not be part of the delegation going to London, believing it was his efforts and the risks taken by him and his men that had led to the offer of talks in the first place.
On receiving de Valera's letter of acceptance, Lloyd George said that he would be happy to see him and any of his colleagues at Downing Street any day that week. de Valera indicated he and his team could be in London the following Thursday.
A truce came into effect at noon. The War of Independence, which had cost the lives of more than 2,000 people, was over.
“A moment of history,” is how Lloyd George referred to the first conference between Irish and British leaders, upon the arrival of de Valera in Downing Street.
Over seven days, four meetings took place between Éamon de Valera and David Lloyd George. Following three of the meetings and ahead of the final one, Lloyd George presented the Irish delegation, which was staying at the plush Grosvenor Hotel, with a document entitled ‘Proposals of the British Government for an Irish Settlement'.
Ireland would be given dominion status, like Canada and South Africa, in an association of “free nations over which His Majesty reigns”. Ireland would enjoy financial and taxation autonomy; appoint its own judges; maintain its own courts of law, army, police force, postal services, education system and enjoy the comfort of security within the Empire.
In return, Ireland would be subject to the Crown, concede access to the naval and air forces of the Empire, as well as contributing to the funding of such forces. Ireland would also have to accept part of the cost of the Great War and not engage in any trade wars with mainland Britain.
On receipt of this document, de Valera feared that the Irish Republic he and his provisional government had sworn an oath to achieving was now unattainable.
He told Lloyd George face to face that the document was “totally unacceptable” to the Irish people. On July 21, Éamon de Valera left Downing Street for Dublin in a “black mood”.
It was almost one month later before de Valera responded fully to Lloyd George's proposal document.
Following intense deliberations in Dublin among his deeply divided cabinet, de Valera informed Lloyd George that the proposal document had been rejected by the Cabinet.
He stated that the only basis for settlement was for an “absolute separation” from Britain. He said that the offer of dominion status to Ireland was illusory, as no other dominion was being asked to concede such access to ports or being subjected to such restrictions and denials of rights.
Three days later, a furious Lloyd George responded sharply to what he called de Valera's repeated desire to lecture him on Irish history.
“Nothing is to be gained by prolonging a theoretical discussion of the national status. No British government can compromise — namely the claim that we should acknowledge the right of Ireland to secede from her allegiance to the King. No such right can ever be acknowledged by us.” He also said that any settlement on Irish unity would have to be bound by the six main conditions of the proposal document.
Before de Valera responded to Lloyd George, he laid the proposal documents of July 20 before the Dáil.
By a unanimous vote, the Dáil rejected them. The die-hards like Cathal Brugha and Austin Stack were putting significant pressure on de Valera not to give way on the idea of an independent republic.
de Valera, perhaps knowing a republic was not going to be achieved, began signalling to a small number of the cabinet and other trusted confidants that if fresh talks were to take place, he would not be going to London.
Many historians and critics, including many who ended up supporting the Treaty, have since said he did so to avoid being blamed as the man who surrendered the Republic. Others have accused him of gross duplicity, on one hand happy for the talks to go ahead, but on the other keen to be removed sufficiently from them when the republic was abandoned.
In his letter of August 24, de Valera hardened in his stance and warned Lloyd George that he and all Irishmen stood ready to fight against any oppression by Britain. “We have not sought war, nor do we seek war, but if war be made upon us we must defend ourselves and shall do so,” he wrote.
By this stage, relations between de Valera and Collins were at breaking point. Collins felt de Valera was playing games with him and his army of exhausted men, who would pay most if the truce was ended, as they had done by their capture and deaths in the raid on the Custom House. Collins also felt that de Valera used the threat of war against the British very loosely, as he himself wouldn't be the one fighting them.
de Valera resented Collins’s influence and repeatedly sought to undermine him by directly overruling him several times at cabinet, on financial and military matters.
Lloyd George could scarcely disguise his annoyance and frustration with the Irish leader in his latest letter. “The British Government are profoundly disappointed by your letter of August 24. You declare that our proposals involve a surrender of Ireland's whole national position and reduce her to subservience. What are the facts?” He accused de Valera of abandoning the calls and claims made by famous Irish leaders in the past like Grattan, Parnell and Redmond.
“In demanding that Ireland should be treated as a separate sovereign power, with no allegiance to the Crown, you are advancing claims which the most famous national leaders in Irish history have explicitly disowned,” he wrote angrily. “The British Government have offered Ireland all that O'Connell and Thomas Davis asked, and more, and we are met only by an unqualified demand that we should recognise Ireland as a foreign power.” Lloyd George also threatened that de Valera's continued refusal to accept a position within the Empire risked the ending of the truce and a return to immediate and terrible violence, a threat to chill the bones of Michael Collins.
“Action is being taken in various directions, which if continued, would prejudice the truce and must ultimately lead to its termination. This would be deplorable,” Lloyd George wrote. After the election of the Second Dáil in 1921, de Valera resigned on August 26 and was immediately re-elected under the new title of President of the Republic.
By now, the two leaders were at an impasse. A conference between Britain and Ireland seemed more unlikely, given de Valera's latest letter. “We have rejected these proposals, and our rejection is irrevocable. You refuse [to concede to recognise Irish independence] and threaten to give effect to your view by force. Our reply must be that if you adopt that course we can only resist, as the generations before us have resisted,” he wrote.
Also, by now, de Valera had publicly declared that if a conference was to take place, he would not lead it and he would remain in Dublin. The Irish delegation would be lead by Arthur Griffith. Word had begun spreading around Dublin that Michael Collins would also be ordered to go to London. Collins, who had sought to go to London in July, was now deeply suspicious as to the actions of his Chief. He argued that the people of Ireland should be represented by their president at any talks. de Valera responded that as he had been elected as president of the Irish Republic, he could not be seen to compromise that position. To add to Collins' unease, other republican die-hards such as Stack and Brugha were also refusing to put their names forward, in case talks started.
Growing impatient with de Valera's “antics” and continual lectures on Irish history, Lloyd George attempted to move matters on. Writing from his holiday home in Inverness in Scotland, he wrote: “His Majesty's Government are loth to believe that you will insist upon rejecting their proposals without examining them in conference. You will agree that this correspondence has lasted long enough.” Lloyd George called on de Valera to give him a definite response and invited him to a conference at Inverness on September 20.
It seemed a conference would now take place. The Irish daily newspapers reported of the hope that agreement could be reached for such talks to begin in Scotland. The Dáil met in private session to discuss Lloyd George's offer.
They nominated a team of plenipotentiaries which included Arthur Griffith, a reluctant Michael Collins, Commandant Robert Barton (who delivered all of de Valera's letters to Lloyd George in London), Commandant Eamon Duggan and George Gavan Duffy. Erskine Childers would act as secretary to the delegation. Despite the approval of the delegation by the Dáil, in his latest letter to Lloyd George, de Valera restated that a conference could only take place if Britain recognised Ireland as a foreign power. This statement drew a furious response from Lloyd George and his cabinet.
Barton was part of an Irish team that had travelled to Scotland to deliver the letter to Lloyd George on September 13. They were castigated and told that the tone of de Valera's letter made any conference impossible. Lloyd George said the letter was so hostile and inflammatory, he demanded it be amended on the spot. Barton said he had no authority to do so. Lloyd George wrote to de Valera two days later reiterating his and his cabinet's considerable anger at the previous letter. He cancelled the proposed conference at Inverness because the Irish “have not come to meet us by a single step”.
de Valera sent a telegram to say that his letter was simply to outline the Irish position clearly. He added that if a conference was held “without prejudice”, then his delegates would travel.
There was now daily contact between Dublin and London. Lloyd George responded in a telegram, saying that a conference without prejudice would “constitute a formal and official recognition of Ireland's severance from the King's dominions. We cannot consent to any abandonment, however informal, of the principle of allegiance to the King. While you insist on claiming that, conference between us is impossible.” de Valera responded that night reiterating his call for a conference without conditions.
Again, the sides were locked in an impasse. The Irish wanted recognition as an independent sovereign state, while Britain said such a recognition threatened the existence of the Empire. In a telegram sent on Sunday, September 18, Lloyd George said that from the outset, “I told you that we looked to Ireland to owe allegiance to the Throne and to make her future as a member of the British Commonwealth.” He said that unless de Valera dropped that claim of independence, conference between the parties was “impossible”.
Public anticipation in Dublin and across Ireland was putting pressure on de Valera to enter into talks. People had become used to some sense of peace and most did not want a return to the violence. Under this pressure, de Valera sent a telegram to Lloyd George, who was back in Scotland, saying that the two sides were unlikely to reconcile their disagreements through correspondence and that a conference was the best means to overcome such differences.
Lloyd George, himself struggling to maintain order within his own divided coalition cabinet, was desperate to get “de Valera to the table”.
While fishing in Scotland with his hugely talented private secretary, Thomas Jones, Lloyd George devised a scheme to break the deadlock. He proposed sending a fresh letter to Dublin, recognising the softening in tone in de Valera's previous letter, but restating the need for Ireland to remain within the British empire.
Jones dismissed the proposal, arguing that such a letter would only prolong the impasse. Lloyd George added that he intended extending a fresh invitation to the Irish delegation to a conference in Downing Street, beginning on October 11.
This conference would be held 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”.
The following day, de Valera concurred that “conference and not correspondence” was the best way forward and he accepted the invitation.
Despite being named as a delegate, Collins was still deeply apprehensive about to going to London without de Valera. He again tried to persuade the Chief to go, but de Valera was not for moving. Collins felt like he was being set up.
In the end, the conference began on October 11, Collins travelled and de Valera remained in Dublin.
In fear of his life, Collins did not stay with the rest of the delegation in London, and readied himself and his troops for the inevitable split that came once the Anglo-Irish Treaty was signed on December 6, 1921.
In January 1922, the Anglo-Irish Treaty was ratified by the Dáil, by a slim majority of 64 votes to 57. de Valera voted against the Treaty and walked out of the Dáil, having resigned as president, thus plunging Ireland into civil war.