Struggling toward Statehood
The wording of the oath, and the differing requirements for it between Eamon de Valera and Erskine Childers on the one side, and Collins and Arthur Griffith on the other, sowed confusion and discord for the rest of the Treaty process. Griffith had already made it clear that he did not intend to break off negotiations over the issue of the crown.
A Cabinet meeting was called for December 3, 1921, at the Mansion House.
The deliberations were interrupted by an unpleasant scene provoked by Cathal Brugha.
Observing that Griffith and Collins had been doing most of the negotiating, Brugha asked who was responsible for the sub-conference set up in which some of the delegation were not in touch with what was happening. Someone replied the British had invited Griffith and Collins to meet them, and Brugha remarked the British selected “their men”.
De Valera avoided personalities in criticising the draft treaty. He rejected it mainly on the grounds that the oath was unacceptable.
Brugha said to Griffith: “If you sign this thing, you will split Ireland from top to bottom.”
“I suppose that’s so,” replied Griffith, struck by the implication. “I’ll go back to London. I’ll not sign the document, but bring it back and submit it to the Dáil and, if necessary to the public.”
It was decided that the delegation should return to London with the same powers and instructions. If the oath were not amended, the draft treaty would be rejected. If this led to the collapse of the conference, Griffith was advised to say the matter be referred to the Dáil, and he was to try to blame the northern unionists for the impasse, if possible.
Back in London, Childers began drafting an alternative to the British treaty, aided by Robert Barton and later Gavan Duffy.
But when the trio presented their colleagues with their draft proposals, an extraordinary scene ensued. Barton wrote later: “Griffith was very angry. He declared that the Cabinet had been prepared to go much further towards agreement than we had indicated. That the terms we were proposing were stiffer than those already declared by the English to be impossible.”
Collins objected to the concept of ‘external association’. He thought the British guarantee about according Ireland the de facto status of Canada had been acceptable to the Cabinet. He noted that nobody had talked about pressing for association at the Cabinet meeting. There had been no such discussion, but the president had responded affirmatively when Childers asked if suggested alterations to the oath also applied to the first three clauses of the final British proposals.
Collins was furious. Such an important issue — ultimately the vital issue — should not have been determined by a simple answer to an almost throwaway question from a secretary.
Collins refused to join the delegation in Downing Street . The British again flatly rejected external association and the conference broke down when Gavan Duffy blurted “the Irish difficulty is coming within the empire”.
The two sides announced they would submit their final proposals the following day, and they would formally announce that the conference had collapsed. The Irish were on the brink of breaking on the very point it had been their policy to avoid — relationship with crown and empire.
But the British had noticed the absence of Collins and at 2am the cabinet secretary arrived at Hans Place for a long private conversation with Griffith, and Collins was invited to meet with Lloyd George the next morning.
Lloyd George offered to consider a new oath, if the Irish delegation accepted the clauses concerning dominion status.
The Irish agreed to meet at 2pm that same afternoon. That meeting consisted of Griffith, Collins and Barton, Lloyd George, Chamberlain, Birkenhead and Churchill. The British accepted, with amendments, the oath submitted by Collins that morning.
Lloyd George accused the Irish of trying to use the Ulster question to break off the talks. He accused Griffith of going back on the promise of not repudiating the Boundary Commission proposal, and he produced an explanatory memorandum that Griffith had approved in November.
The memorandum outlining the Boundary Commission proposal was then passed to Collins and Barton. Both saw it for the first time. Collins said nothing. Griffith no longer felt able to break on the Ulster question, and didn’t wish to break on the crown. He told Lloyd George he, individually, would sign the Treaty.
Lloyd George said it was not enough and turned to Robert Barton with two envelopes: “I have to communicate with Sir James Craig (Prime Minister of Northern Ireland) tonight. Here are the alternative letters which I have prepared, one enclosing the Articles of Agreement reached by His Majesty’s government and yourselves, and the other saying that the Sinn Féin representatives refused the oath of allegiance and refused to come within the Empire. If I send this letter, it is war — and war within three days! Which letter am I to send?
“We must have your answer by 10pm tonight.”
The Irish delegates withdrew. Churchill recalled: “Michael Collins rose looking as though he was going to shoot someone. I have never seen so much pain and suffering in restraint.”
By the time the delegates met, Collins had decided to sign.
Having been entrusted by the Dáil with the responsibility of negotiating an acceptable settlement, Griffith and Collins saw it as their duty to sign when they were convinced the terms would be acceptable not only to the Dáil but also a majority of the Irish people. Moreover, they thought an unwinnable war would collapse the conference. Collins thought 55%-60% of “all concerned” would support the Treaty.
Robert Barton described “a most frightful battle” among the delegation who were stunned to hear Collins was going to sign it. Lloyd George’s 10pm deadline came, and went.
Barton’s signature was crucial. He had provided de Valera with the opportunity to use his own vote to exclude himself from the delegation, and without Barton’s support it was possible the cabinet could undermine any agreement. After some two hours of argument, Barton began to wilt.
When Collins signed around 2.20am on December 6, he was aware of the likely consequences. Birkenhead turned to Collins. “I may have signed my political death warrant tonight,” he said. “And I may have signed my actual death warrant,” Collins replied.
During the private session of the Dáil to consider the Treaty, de Valera admitted that there was only “a small difference… over that little sentimental thing” between the Treaty and what he wanted. In fact, he said the difference was “so small” the British would not fight over it, while Collins said it was so small that it was not worth fighting over, but the British would fight. So they fought each other in the civil war.
Extracts from: I Signed My Death Warrant, by Ryle Dwyer, published by Mercier Press, €12.99.
CONNECT WITH US TODAY
Be the first to know the latest news and updates
