'He gave his life for the Irish nation' — How the country reacted to Michael Collins' death

Just as it is impossible to measure the grief that is cast over the country, equally so it is impossible to put in mere words a faithful appreciation of the work that Mr Michael Collins did for Ireland. It can be said of him with truth that he gave his life for the Irish nation and greater tribute cannot be paid.

Mr Michael Collins was a member of a well-known and esteemed county Cork family. Born at Woodfield, near Clonakilty, about 32 years ago, he early displayed a love for literature and books dealing with the story and history of Ireland. 

In the early days of reaching manhood, the games indigenous to the soil attracted him, and he soon developed into a hurler of dash and courage.  These two traits were the most characteristic, even then, in a manly character that was altogether lovable. 

The sterner realities of life now claiming attention, he decided to study for the Civil Service, and in competitive examination secured his position in the London General Postal Service. He spent seven years in London but carried with him all the deep-rooted love of native land that he so early manifested. 

He became attached to Irish societies, and often in later days has it been recounted the many times he played prominent a part in the movements across the water with the compatriots to help her cause. 

He was a familiar figure at the debates that kept alive the interest in every phase of the movement tending to the regeneration of Ireland, and with affection his association at this period recall his grasp of detail, brilliancy in repartee, and cogency in argument. 

He made a warm niche for himself in all their hearts. In the ordinary course of business life, the friendly manner, large heartedness, and cheery willingness to give that little help when much needed, won enduring friendships. Having spent little more than a year in the postal service he resigned and sought the wider field offered in banking circles taking a post in a large banking corporation. 

He returned to Ireland in 1914 and became closely identified with the Sinn Féin movement. He was only a member, but his thoroughness in the undertakings were at once distinctive. Far from a nature prone to publicity, he was only known to his immediate associates but his worth was highly prized. 

A man too broadminded and honourable to countenance any intrepid policies that he was not prepared to share in himself, more than cordiality was engendered in the respect entertained for him. To all he was known as Mick Collins, and by all he was admired and trusted. 

Returning from London he was accompanied back to his native land by his brother-in-law John Hurley, of Drinagh, Dunmanway, with whom he fought in the Rebellion in 1916. John Hurley was with the party holding the Church Street barricade and was killed in the fighting. 

Michael Collins, who was fighting in another part of the city, was wounded in the land. Subsequent to the Rebellion he was arrested and deported being interned at Frongoch. In the last few years up to the Truce of July 1921, he was the most romantic figure of the Irish war against England. 

When the truce was called, and the negotiations to establish peace opened, and up to the present day, and, indeed, the tribute will go down in history, he was whole-heartedly regarded by the Irish people as “the man who won the war". So great, in fact, it will be remembered, was England’s desire to rid herself of Michael Collins in Ireland that she not only outlawed him but put a price on his head. 

The reward for his capture was £7,000, the biggest ever offered. But money could not purchase the betrayal of the hero of the people and the country, no more than could all the wiles and resources of England trace his whereabouts, though, true to his courage and daring, Michael Collins walked the streets, drove in trams in their midst, and travelled the country by motor and train through their outposts.

There are many incidents related of his thrilling escapes on several occasions, and all mirror the daring and courage that animated the man as well as his coolness and clear vision, even in the most exciting contingencies. 

There were episodes that if put on paper and published in book form by Mr Collins would have made fascinating reading and supplied many instances to show that truth is oft times stranger than fiction. The secret of his success from a few such episodes related by his friends must be attributed to his coolness and intrepidity. 

On one occasion that agents of the British government put their hands on him in Grafton Street, Dublin, and ejaculated, “we have you Mick. We arrest you.” 

Mr Collins, not the slightest perturbed walked a few paces with his captors and then coolly said to them:

Walk another few yards and you are both dead men. My bodyguard is watching.

The open arrest was at once abandoned and Mr Collins was free to take a detour and get away.

During one of the many raids on the Sinn Féin headquarters at Harcourt Street, he had a remarkable escape. It was known to the British authorities that Michael Collins was on these premises one evening. 

Accordingly, a big raid taken part in by military and police was planned. The premises were surrounded at nightfall. The entrance was broken in, and soldiers swarmed into the place.

There were some persons, including ladies, working in the house. In a top room, Mr Collins was busily engaged looking over papers that purported to deal with insurance or some matter far removed from Sinn Féin. 

A soldier broke in the door of the room, and there found a young man seated at small table.

This man was Mr Collins. 

“Are you Collins?” asked the soldier.

“Collins”, replied Michael, “who is he?, I am not. I am only a small clerk here.” 

The soldier hurried off to join in the searches of other rooms. 

Meanwhile, Mr Collins apprehended his danger, and getting out through a skylight walked the roofs of the houses for nearly one hundred yards, and finally eluded pursuit. 

Yet another story to convey his wonderful strategic appreciations. Motoring with three other prominent members of the movement outside Dublin, the party consisting of two Corkmen and a Dublin man ran into a party of auxiliaries. 

Immediately their car was about to be halted, Mr Collins gave the order “Cork to the right, Dublin to the left.” This was a direction as to the manner in which they were to get out of the car. The result was that the party was searched by different officers, and any awkward questionings as to their associations were obviated.

It is scarcely necessary to recall his activities since the Truce and the signing of the Treaty with England last December. It might be added, however, that no figure in these chapters of the Irish nation had more interest for the people than Mr Michael Collins. 

It is easy to visualise but hard to picture his virile defence of the people’s rights. There was his spirited and frank disposition all through the tedious Dail debates; his campaign through the country everywhere to be acclaimed as the people’s hero, and in the carrying out of which he had to suffer a small but noticable disposed opposition. 

These are events that one would like to have a veil case over but it is helpful to remember them in trying to appraise the unselfishness of his services. 

The honourable course he pursued was endorsed by the people and supported by such tried fighters for the Irish nation as Richard Mulcahy, Michael Brennan of Clare, Joe McGrath, Dublin; Sean McKeown, and others who with surpassing unselfishness had worked and fought to bring Ireland to the threshold of her independence. 

Michael Collins, with his departed friend and confidant Arthur Griffith, had fought for and gained a victory for the nation, and as such was heartily accepted by the overwhelming mass of the people. 

He accepted the challenge to the voice of the people and his young life is claimed in its vindication. His task was titanic and would have easily crushed a man of lesser spirit and courage. 

Great is Ireland’s tribulation at his death and deep-felt in the sympathy extended to his bereaved relatives and his colleagues in the Army and in the Government of the country.

‘General Dalton stood there holding the body’

In an interview, Lt J.J. Smith, 1st Dublin Brigade, the motorcyclist who was wounded in the Béal na Bláth ambush in which General Collins lost his life, gave further interesting particulars of the fight. 

He himself is attached to GHQ, Limerick, as a forward observation officer and came on to Cork with the Commander-in-Chief from Mallow. He was wounded through the neck, fortunately not very seriously.

The party of National troops numbered 20 men. First came Lt Smith himself on a motor bicycle about 300 yards in front of the main party. Then came the Crossley tender, in which Col Comdnt Sean O’Connell, an N.C.O., and eight men as well as the driver were travelling. 

Next was the Commander-in-Chief’s Leyland car with himself, Major General Dalton and two drivers. The armoured car, with Lt Cmdt Dolan, Staff Capt. Conroy, and two men, brought up the rear.

After leaving Bandon some eight miles behind, on their way towards Macroom (which route they were obliged to take owing to road obstructions), the party came to a hill descending between high ground on both sides and it was here that the attack was made. The road at this place is narrow and descends into a low valley. 

On the right-hand side there is rocky, high ground, coming out to the very roadside, while at the left, where the main body of the ambushers were concentrated, the hill is about 200 yards back and is separated from the road by a stream. 

On this hill are many shrubs, small trees, furze etc., affording excellent cover to the Irregulars. There is also a farmhouse some distance back from the road, which is not visible from the lower part of the road. 

About quarter of a mile on the Bandon side of this spot is situated a creamery and some 300 yards beyond the point of attack there is a crossroad where one turns to the left for Béal na Bláth, a short distance away, and keeps on straight for Crookstown, about two-and-a-half miles away.

The party did not reach the hill until close on eight o’clock and they were spread out over a considerable distance descending the hill, when the attack was made. 

Lt Smith was nearly quarter of mile ahead of the armoured car which brought up the rear and along all this distance the attackers, who numbered at least 200 were lying in wait. It was a dull evening, though fine.

The placing of a barricade in the shape of dismantled carts across the lower section of the road indicates that the ambush was carefully planned and that the attack was not made by chance. 

The National party in the course of their tour passed along that road early the same day on the way from Macroom to Bandon and the Irregulars must have seen them and knowing they should return the same way, had lain in wait for them. Lieutenant Smith had got a good distance down the hill when fire was opened on him. 

“I put on full speed,” he said, “and rode right through for about 300 yards. One bullet struck the handlebar of my motorbike and injured my left hand. I saw a large cart with a wheel off drawn across the road in the form of a barricade and I dismounted and ran into the ditch for cover. The cart completely filled the road, which is narrow at that point. 

"After a minute or two I crawled along taking advantage of the little cover which the ditch afforded, to see how the others fared. A few seconds elapsed and then the Crossley tender came up and stopped first where I was.

“I shouted to them to get under cover and under the direction of Col Comdt O’Connell the men dismounted and divided into two parties. Heavy firing was of course going on all this time and our party had not yet commenced to reply. My motorcycle and the tender were left on the road.

“One party then immediately opened fire on the attackers at both sides of the road with a Lewis gun and rifles. Notwithstanding the heavy fire which was being directed on us, the other party ran to the carts across the road and attacking the barricade vigorously, moved it aside, thus leaving the road open.

“This work occupied a very considerable time during which we kept up a continual fire on the attacking party. 

Meantime the Leyland touring car and the armoured car had stopped some distance further up the hill and we could hear the fight going on at this end also. The attackers were spread out along the slopes at both sides of the road for fully a quarter of a mile.

“The Leyland car was stopped by the direction of the Commander-in-Chief, who with Major General Dalton and the two drivers took cover behind the fence about a foot high. This, however, left them exposed to the fire of the party on the other side of the road. The armoured car was in action a little further up.

“At the lower end of the road we kept on firing and after some time drove back the ambushers on the right-hand side of the road. They seemed to retreat over the top of the hill and the firing from this direction practically ceased.

“I went up around the brow of the hill after a little, in order to reconnoitre and as far as I could see this section of the Irregulars had gone back over the hill.

“This gave us the opportunity to open a more intensified fire on the attackers at the other side who were concealed around the farmhouse and amongst the shrubbery and bushes across the stream. 

"We picked off a couple of them and could see them fall. Another was seen crossing a gap and was hit when fired upon. Our party continued to fight fiercely and after another short space of time I decided to try to get into touch with the others, to see if they were all right.

“I rushed over to my bicycle after telling the officer in charge and jumping on, rode about 200 yards up the road. I was of course seen and had only got this distance when heavy fire was directed at me. So, I again dived for cover, turning the bicycle into the ditch and jumping clear.

“After waiting a little I crawled along till I reached the Leyland car, in which of course there was nobody. It was in the middle of the road and about 200 or 300 yards higher up, I could see the armoured car in action. I crawled along until I came to a point opposite the armoured car.

"Then I saw the Commander-in-Chief lying wounded at the right-hand side of the armoured car. Major General Dalton and Col Commandant O’Connell were attending him when I saw him, and they were trying to bandage his head. 

"General Dalton called me over, with another of the party, to get the Commander-in-Chief into the armoured car. This was the concluding stage of the engagement, which had been going on for about an hour. It was then nearly dusk.

“The armoured car pushed the Leyland in front of it and after a while the efforts of the driver to start the engine were successful. We moved on to where the tender was halted, those in the armoured car keeping up the firing all the time.

The body of the dead Commander-in-Chief was then moved into the tonneau of the Leyland car and General Dalton stood there, holding the body. I went to the front seat next to the driver, as I had to abandon my motorcycle. 

"In this way we went on, past the cross, to Crookstown, about two-and-a-half miles away. Here we got a civilian to show us the way to the next village (Farran). 

"We had to go through fields to avoid destroyed bridges on our way into Ballincollig and at one place we were delayed for two hours owing to the difficulty of getting the cars across boggy parts. It was here we left the Leyland car, which has since been brought back. The body was transferred from it to the tender, and we continued on our way.

“After great difficulty we got onto the main road again and then went on beyond Ballincollig, coming in the back road – the Model Farm Road. Another blown-up bridge prevented us from continuing on this road and we came down to the straight road through a farm and then into the city.” 

Lieutenant Smith agreed that the casualties to the attackers must have been heavy. He thought the ambush must have been planned when the Irregulars saw the convoy passing on to Bandon early in the morning, between 8 and 9 o’clock. 

The party, which left Cork about 6.15am first went to Macroom where they stayed a short time. Then they left for Bandon, passing Béal na Bláth and along the stretch of road where they were ambushed when returning. After going to Bandon they journeyed to the Commander-in-Chief’s native place and then onto Skibbereen returning the same way.

'If his death brings a brighter Ireland into being it will not have been in vain'

Michael Collins’ sister, who is employed at the Post Office Savings Bank in Blythe Road, Kensington, received the sad news of her brother’s death shortly after she arrived at 8.30am to begin her day’s duties.

The news was broken to her by sympathetic friends in the accounts department where she worked. She was deeply affected. Unable to continue her work, she asked that she might have leave, which was at once granted.

Miss Collins, in a most distressed condition, left the building, and went to the house of Sir John and Lady Lavery in Cromwell Place. Sir John had often entertained Mr Collins during his visits to London. Unfortunately, Sir John and Lady Lavery were out of town, and Miss Collins left in tears.

Mr Collins had himself been employed in the Post Office Savings Department from 1906 until 1910. His sister is greatly liked by the staff, and the news of the assassination of her brother has caused general grief in the department.

In an interview Miss Collins said: - "And he is really gone! I can hardly credit it.

This morning I was looking forward to seeing him in Dublin, this being the first day of my holidays, and now – But there, it was probably the death he would have liked in the cause of his beloved Ireland If only the movement had been more in progress.

"For 15 years he and I have been more than brother and sister; we have been chums. I have always looked upon him as mine, and the rest of our family have, I think, always recognised the fact."

It was here (Miss Collins’ London home) that, after the day’s work was done, we would chat far into the night generally of his aspirations and hopes for Ireland’s future, how her cause would be advanced.

"He was always certain that one day she would find herself on the right path, 'but over a good many dead bodies', as he would grimly put it.

"From his earliest days, he was cut out to be a leader. Even as a small schoolboy his fellow scholars in their games would automatically appoint him their leader.

"Until quite recently he kept up his love for athletics. At running and jumping he was well over the average. (Several cups in the room were proudly pointed out by his sister).

"He studied at King’s College, instead of going in for the Civil Service, afterwards going to the Stock Exchange, but I knew – who better? – that his heart was with Ireland all the time.

"An instance of this feeling occurred during the war, when a brother of mine (living in America) asked him to go over there.

“'No' was Michael’s reply: 'things are bad and will soon be worse in Ireland'.

"That was in 1916. I have not seen him since June and was so looking forward to meeting him again.

He knew of late that his life had been threatened. I knew it, too, but always kept my feelings and fears in the background as far as possible.

"Last year, he had a dream, which impressed itself on him. He told me all about it. I laughed it off, but inwardly I felt to myself, 'It spells the end soon for you, my brother'. 

"What now can we say? Perhaps just this, that if his death brings a brighter Ireland into being it will not have been in vain. But there are lonely years ahead of me."

'All the Irregulars seemed highly delighted at having done it, as they said Mick Collins, the traitor'

Mr John Collins, brother of the late General Michael Collins, while on his way from Clonakilty, Co Cork, to proceed to Dublin on Wednesday evening was arrested by Irregulars and held until yesterday morning when he was released.

He proceeded to Dublin yesterday afternoon by steamer, accompanied by General Ennis and Mr Sean Hales. TD.

Mr Collins, in the course of conversation with an “Examiner” representative said: “The first intimation I got of the death of my brother, Michael, was from a Red Cross car, which arrived in Clonakilty about two o’clock on Wednesday evening. 

"The car came to Clonakilty from Macroom for a wounded Irregular prisoner, who had been already removed. I asked the MO in charge of the Red Cross car for permission to accompany him in the car to Cork, so that I could proceed to Dublin to my brother’s funeral. The M.O. very courteously gave me permission.

"When we arrived in Bandon, we found we could not proceed direct to Cork, and decided to proceed to Macroom. When we had left the Cork-Bandon road about half a mile behind we were fired upon by a man, who asked us why we didn’t halt, as he fired three shots, and told us that if we had not stopped then he would have 'plugged' us.

Three or four Irregulars then came up, and the M.O., the driver and a man who accompanied us to show us the road, were ordered to leave the car by one of the Irregulars, who boasted in a most jubilant manner of having 'plugged Mickeen'. 

"'He was not much of a fighter,' the Irregular said, 'and you would not have the pluck to stand up to be plugged’.

"I said I was not afraid of even that. Just then another Irregular intervened and put a stop to the controversy. Every member of our party was closely searched, but, of course, we carried no arms.

"After some time, we were taken to the door of a public house, where we were offered refreshments by one of the Irregulars, who certainly acted as one Irishman should to another, even though opposed to him in policy. 

"As night came on, we were taken to the parlour of the public house, where we were kept until 12 o’clock. At midnight we were removed, under a strong military escort, to a farmer’s house about a mile from the public house, where, they said, our billets were ready. 

"We were taken to an unfurnished room, where the owner of the house tried to make us as comfortable as possible. Being unable to provide us with beds, he put a mattress on the floor, where my three fellow prisoners had some sort of sleep. 

"I lay on the floor in my clothes, without mattress or sheet, or any other comfort and awaited developments.

"This morning, about 8 o’clock, breakfast was ready, of which my fellow prisoners partook, but which I again refused.

"Tom Hales, the Commandant of the Irregulars, visited us during the night. I do not know if he were responsible for our release, but we were released this morning.

"All the Irregulars seemed highly delighted at having 'done it', as they said 'Mick Collins, the traitor'. They stated several times during the night that they would be also very pleased to get 'Backshot Hales'."

• Original article Cork Examiner August 24, 1922