THE POLITICAL LANDSLIDE.
In December, 1918, came the event which gave the Irish Volunteers the
moral sanction for their subsequent activities—the General Election.
It is important to bear in mind the position at that time. No General
Election had been held in Ireland for seven years. In that interval the
vast majority of the people had completely changed their views. They no
longer had any faith in England, or in the efficacy of sending their
hundred representatives to the British Parliament, where they were in a
helpless minority, and where their voices were scarcely heard. England’s
treachery on the Home Rule question and her threat of Conscription had
cost her dearly. But the greatest force of all in the awakening was the
Rising of 1916. That episode had put new life and heart into the people.
The bye-elections, to which I have already referred had given the people
their only opportunity, so far, to indicate the growing desire for
liberty, complete and untrammelled.
On November 11th, 1918, the Great War virtually ended with the Armistice.
A week later it was announced that the long delayed General Election was
fixed for the 14th December. Sinn Fein got its opportunity, for that
election was to be the first ever held under the British Constitution on
the basis of manhood suffrage, and we knew well that the young men of
Ireland would vote overwhelmingly for our cause.
But we had to educate and organise. The name and policy of Sinn Fein
were still grossly misunderstood. The public did not clearly realise
the difference between the political body, Sinn Fein, and the military
organisation—the Irish Volunteers. The Insurrection of 1916 was commonly
called the “Sinn Fein Rising,” and our Volunteers were spoken of as the
“Sinn Fein Volunteers.” Even the Republican Tricolour—the Green, White
and Orange of the Young Ireland Party of 1848, and of the Fenians of
the next generation—was called the “Sinn Fein Flag.” But misnomers did
not trouble us very much, for the Sinn Fein body had been adjusting
its programme to suit Republican ideals. And now when Sinn Fein clubs
were springing up in every parish, it was quite usual to find that the
President or the Secretary of the club was also captain of the local
Volunteer corps. The majority of the younger men in the Sinn Fein
Political Organisation were also Volunteers; and the Volunteers were also
members of the Sinn Fein club.
During the period of the Election the people went Sinn Fein mad. We
had most of the clergy with us, and the earnestness and enthusiasm of
our speakers and organisers swept the country. The political wing of
the Republican cause spread like wild-fire; but our army was gradually
dwindling. While we lamented this decay on the military side, we saw
the necessity of making an enormous success of the elections, hoping to
restore our army to its proper strength when the election was over. So
we threw ourselves heart and soul into the contest, and worked night
and day for the Republican candidates. We didn’t leave a dead wall or
a cross-roads in the country that we did not decorate with appeals to
“Rally to Sinn Fein,” “Vote for the Republic,” “Stand by the men of
1916.” Such were the rallying calls addressed to the people during those
few critical weeks. No secret was made of our policy. Every Republican
was pledged never to take his seat in the British Parliament, but to work
at home in Ireland for the establishment and recognition of the Republic.
We knocked plenty of fun out of the election. Alas! many of those who
worked hardest in those days have passed under the sod since. Our
workers in Tipperary included Dinny Lacy, killed during the Civil War
in his native county; Sean Duffy and Paddy Maloney (whose father was our
successful candidate), later killed in an encounter with the British not
far from Soloheadbeg; Sean Allen, who was executed by the British in Cork
Jail; “Sparkie” Breen, also killed in the Civil War. But these memories
only serve to remind one of the fine fellows we have lost. Anyhow we won
every seat in Munster, except Waterford City. Leinster and Connaught did
equally well, and in Ulster we won several seats. The net result was that
of the one hundred and five constituencies, seventy-three had repudiated
British rule and plumped for an Irish Republic.
A month later, on January 21st, 1919, these elected representatives of
the vast majority of the Irish people met in public session in Dublin;
formally proclaimed the Republic, and established a Government. The same
day, and almost at the same hour, our little handful of Volunteers were
striking the first blow since the formal repudiation of British authority
by the people. But let me explain how it came about.
[Illustration: SCENE OF SOLOHEADBEG AMBUSH.]
After the election we had more time to review our position. The results
had cleared the air; the people had by an overwhelming verdict given
us moral sanction to drive the British forces out of Ireland. But the
election work had had a serious effect on our army. Many had ceased to be
soldiers and had become politicians. There was danger of disintegration,
a danger which had been growing since the threat of Conscription
disappeared a few months earlier. I was convinced that some sort of
action was absolutely necessary. Over and over again I discussed the
matter with Sean Treacy. I knew that if we once showed them the way,
there were plenty of fine fellows on whom we could rely. Sooner than we
expected the opportunity came.
Let me introduce my readers to the first authentic account of the
affair known as “The Soloheadbeg Outbreak,” or, as the hostile Press
persistently titled it, “The Soloheadbeg Murders”; for those who read the
newspaper versions of our struggle with England must bear in mind that
every newspaper in Ireland was hostile to our policy, and so remained to
the end, though a few of them lost their bitterness towards us as the
campaign progressed. It must also be remembered that even when the “Great
War” ended the British Press Censorship was continued in Ireland for over
a year.