II
Already the tide had begun to turn in Ireland. On May 11th Mr. Dillon—who had been in Dublin during the rebellion—moved the adjournment of the House to demand that Government should state whether they intended to have more executions upon the finding of secret tribunals, and to continue the searches and wholesale arrests which were going on through the country. The list of executions had now reached fourteen, and no word of evidence had been published. Also the Prime Minister stated that he heard for the first time of the shooting of Mr. Sheehy-Skeffington and others by Captain Bowen Colthurst. Unquestionably, discussion was urgently needed, and Mr. Dillon was fully justified in emphasizing the mischief done in Ireland by alienating men's minds. But Mr. Dillon spoke as one who felt to the uttermost the passion of resentment which he depicted, and in his indignation against charges which had been brought against the insurgents, he was led to praise their conduct almost to the disparagement of soldiers in the field. Even in print the speech seethes with growing passion; and its delivery, I am told, accentuated its bitterness and its anti-English tone.
It would be futile to deny that this utterance had a great effect in Ireland and in England, or to conceal Redmond's view that the effect was most lamentable. But it had one notable result. Mr. Asquith, in replying, announced his intention to visit Ireland and look into the situation for himself. Within a fortnight—on May 25th—he reported to the House his impressions.
"The first was the breakdown of the existing machinery of the Irish Government; and the next was the strength and depth, and I might almost say, I think without exaggeration, the universality of the feeling in Ireland that we have now a unique opportunity for a new departure for the settlement of outstanding problems, and for a joint and combined effort to obtain agreement as to the way in which the Government of Ireland is for the future to be carried on."
He indicated that an attempt would be made to renew negotiations for a settlement which would enable the Home Rule Act to be brought into operation at once; and that Mr. Lloyd George had consented to undertake the task of reconciling parties. But he begged that there should be no debate upon this proposal or upon Irish affairs at all. Redmond, in accepting, said that the request for acceptance without discussion was putting the goodwill of Nationalists to a very severe test.—A discussion would at once have produced this criticism: that Ireland would say to-morrow, "The Parliamentary party brought to Ireland a post-dated order for Home Rule, liable to an indefinite series of postponements: Sinn Fein by a week's rebellion secures that Home Rule shall be brought into force at once."
In truth, the rapid growth of Sinn Fein from May 1916 onwards is due largely to this reasoning; but also to resentment against the Government's dealing with the rebellion, and against the Irish party's silence in Parliament in spite of the numerous actions of the military power which called for vigorous criticism.
Irish Nationalist members realized the unpopularity of their silence and submitted to it, for the negotiations appeared to offer a real chance. We held that Mr. Lloyd George could not afford to fail, and had power enough to carry through a settlement. We did not know, and could not, that the Minister of Munitions had been called off from his regular work within five weeks before the beginning of the offensive on the Somme, for which an unprecedented outlay of material had been undertaken.
The negotiations proceeded, and were conducted on the principle of discussion through a go-between. The parties never met: Mr. Lloyd George submitted proposals to each side separately. Redmond and his colleagues insisted on protecting themselves by securing a written document, so that, as it was hoped, there could be no understanding and the terms come to would be final.
Those of us who hoped for a completely new approach to the problem were doomed to disappointment. The affair was taken up where the Buckingham Palace Conference left it. The terms to be arranged were terms of exclusion for Ulster; and the two questions of defining the area and the period met the negotiators on the threshold.
It has been shown above that Redmond regarded as vital the distinction between temporary and permanent exclusion. His purpose was to stamp the whole of this proposed agreement with a provisional and transient character. It was to be simply a war measure, subject to re-arrangement at the close of hostilities; and it was to be adapted to a community still agitated by rebellion.
An Irish Parliament with an Executive responsible to it was to be set up at once. But no elections were to be held. The existing members for the existing constituencies were to be the provisional Parliament till the war ended.
The same considerations precluded the possibility of a referendum in Ulster. Nationalists accepted an area defined by agreement. It left out of "Ulster" the three counties, Donegal, Cavan and Monaghan, in whose eight constituencies no Unionist had been returned since 1885. But it left to the excluded area the counties of Tyrone and Fermanagh, each with a Nationalist majority, and the boroughs of Newry and Londonderry, both represented by Home Rulers.
This was a provision which no body of men could be expected to acquiesce in permanently as representing the equity of the case. It was accepted for the sake of peace, as a temporary expedient. A strong inducement was added by Mr. Lloyd George's proposal that at the close of the provisional period the whole matter should be referred to a Council of the Empire with the Prime Ministers of the Dominions taking a hand in the settlement. But to guarantee and seal its provisional and transitory character an extraordinary clause was added. Until a permanent settlement was reached, the Irish membership at Westminster was to remain at its original number of 103.
The document embodying these conclusions was accepted in identical terms by each side, and each party of negotiators set out for Ireland to endeavour to secure acceptance of it. But before he left London Sir Edward Carson asked for an interpretation of the terms. Did the agreement mean that none of the six excluded counties could be brought under a Dublin Parliament without an Act of Parliament? In other words, was the exclusion permanent until Parliament should otherwise determine? He was answered that the Prime Minister accepted this interpretation, and would be prepared to say so when the matter came before Parliament. Knowledge of these communications was not conveyed to Redmond. Redmond's interpretation was that at the termination of the war this arrangement lapsed, and the Home Rule Act, which was the law of the land, came into force. If Ulster, or any part of it, were to be excluded, it must be by a new amending Act. Had the assurance given to Sir Edward Carson been conveyed to Redmond, either the negotiations must have been resumed or they must have been rendered abortive.
On June 13th the Ulster Council accepted the terms, no doubt with great reluctance. The signatories to the Covenant in the three western counties felt themselves betrayed. The whole body found itself committed to acceptance of Home Rule in principle for twenty-six counties. But the war necessity was pressed upon them and they submitted.
The Nationalist Convention met ten days later in Belfast. Mr. Devlin had been strenuous in his exertions throughout the province, but the whole force of the ecclesiastical power was thrown against him. Apart from the detestation of partition, the Catholic Church conceived that the principle of denominational education would be lost in the severed counties, where the dominant Presbyterian element was opposed to it. Very many delegates came to the Convention pledged in advance to resist the proposals: and the general anticipation was that Redmond would be thrown over.
The proceedings were secret. But in the result the Nationalists of the North refused to be any party to denying the rest of Ireland self-government. A division was taken, and consent to temporary exclusion was carried by a large majority. The victory was in the main due to Mr. Devlin's extraordinary personal gifts, exercised to carry a conclusion which inevitably must injure himself where he was most sensitive to a wound, in the hearts of those among whom he was born and bred.
It must have been in the weeks immediately after this that Redmond spoke to me, as I never heard him speak of any other man, his mind about Mr. Devlin. "Joe's loyalty in all this business has been beyond words," he said. "I know what it has cost him to do as he has done." He knew well that the younger man's influence had been more efficacious than the threat of his own resignation—which was not withheld. A man of other nature might have been jealous of the young and growing power: but such an element as this was so foreign to Redmond's whole being that even the thought of it never entered the most suspicious mind.
The result of the Belfast Convention was communicated and discussed at a meeting of the Irish party held at the Mansion House on June 26th. It was one of the most hopeful moments in our experience; reaction from a depression approaching to despair gave confidence to the gloomiest among us. Hope was in the air. The effect of Mr. Asquith's sentence upon the whole machinery of Dublin Castle had not yet worn off. No new Government had been installed: the Chief Secretaryship remained vacant, the Lord-Lieutenant also had retired from his office. It seemed a certainty that we should enter, under whatever auguries, into the realization of a self-governing Ireland. Even those who were most enthusiastic for the birth of a new and glorious era that was to date from the stirring action of the rebels, and who were most open-mouthed in condemnation of Redmond's futile efforts, in practice shared our view. I asked one such man how he counted on securing the necessary first step of establishing an Irish Government. "Oh, I suppose," was his answer, "the Irish party will manage that somehow."
But soon delay began to hang coldly on this temper of anticipation, and to delay were added disquieting utterances. On June 29th Lord Lansdowne announced in the House of Lords that the "consultations" which had been taking place were "certainly authorized" by the Government but were not binding upon it; and that he, speaking for the Unionist wing of the Cabinet, had not accepted the proposals. This was disturbing. Lord Selborne had retired from the Government before the negotiators went to Ireland, because he knew of the proposals and was not prepared to sanction them. We assumed that other Unionists who shared this view would have followed him in his frank action. Now we perceived that Lord Lansdowne and his friends had frugally husbanded their force. It was expected by many that Ireland would do the work for them. Failing that, they had still the last stab to deliver. But we counted upon one thing: that Mr. Lloyd George, if not Mr. Asquith, would feel himself committed to see the deal through—and that his resignation would have to be faced as a part of the consequences if attempts were made to go back on the bargain.
Parliament reassembled and still nothing was said and nothing done: but the Press was full of rumours. On July 19th Redmond asked that a date should be fixed for the introduction of the proposed Bill, and next day he renewed his demand, urging that the constant delays and postponements were "seriously jeopardizing the chance of settlement." This was only too true. A furious agitation against the proposal of even temporary partition was raging through Ireland. Once more, the tide had been missed: time had been given to inculcate all manner of doubts and suspicions—and once more the suspicions proved to be only too well justified. The whole story was revealed to the House on July 24th.
Redmond, in his speech, emphasized it that the proposals had come not from the Nationalists, but from the Government; they had, however, been accepted, after considerable negotiation and many changes in substance, as a plan which Nationalists could recommend for acceptance. Nationalists had been pressed to use the utmost despatch, had been told that every hour counted and that it was essential in the highest Imperial interests, if Ireland endorsed the agreement, that it should be put into operation at once. "That is two long months ago," he said. Action had been taken; the unpopularity of the proposals, fully foreseen, had been faced, on a clear understanding.
"The agreement was in the words of the Prime Minister himself, for what he called a provisional settlement which should last until the war was over, or until a final and permanent settlement was arrived at within a limited period after the war. This was the chief factor of this plan, and without it not one of my colleagues or myself would for a moment have considered it, much less have submitted it to our followers."
The retention of Irish members at Westminster in full strength was covenanted for "as an indispensable safeguard of the temporary character of the whole arrangement."
It was on this construction of the agreement that consent to it had been secured, in the face of very strong and organized opposition: and consent was secured to it as a final document. Nevertheless, when Redmond arrived in London he had been at once confronted with a demand for modifications—of which the first were unimportant. Yet to consent to any alteration was a sacrifice of principle; but he was told that this concession would secure agreement in the Cabinet. Later, however, came a public statement from Lord Lansdowne that "permanent and enduring" structural alterations would be introduced into the Home Rule Act. Redmond had seen the draft Bill in which the Government's draftsmen embodied the terms of the agreement, and he had accepted this, as conforming to his covenant. In reply to Lord Lansdowne, he had pressed for the production of this Bill, but could not get it. The end was that, after a Cabinet held on July 19th, he was told that "a number of new proposals had been brought forward"; that the Cabinet did not desire to consult him about these at all; and on the 22nd Mr. Lloyd George and Mr. Herbert Samuel were instructed to convey to him the Cabinet's decision, with an intimation that there would be no further discussion or consultation. That decision was to make the exclusion of six counties permanent, and to withdraw the provision for retaining Irish members at full strength during the transitory period.
Redmond attacked no individual. His anger was beyond words. He said this, however:
"Some tragic fatality seems to dog the footsteps of this Government in all their dealings with Ireland. Every step taken by them since the Coalition was formed, and especially since the unfortunate outbreak in Dublin, has been lamentable. They have disregarded every advice we tendered to them, and now in the end, having got us to induce our people to make a tremendous sacrifice and to agree to the temporary exclusion of these Ulster counties, they throw this agreement to the winds, and they have taken the surest means to accentuate every possible danger and difficulty in the Irish situation."
That day really finished the constitutional party and overthrew Redmond's power. We had incurred the very great odium of accepting even temporary partition—and a partition which, owing to this arbitrary extension of area, could not be justified on any ground of principle; we had involved with us many men who voted for that acceptance on the faith of Redmond's assurance that the Government were bound by their written word; and now we were thrown over.
Apart from the effect on Redmond's position, the result was to engender in Ireland a temper which made settlement almost impossible. No British Minister's word would in future be accepted for anything; and any Irishman who attempted to improve relations between the countries was certain to arouse anger and contempt in his countrymen.
More particularly the relations between Irish members and the most powerful members of the Government were hopelessly embittered. Mr. Lloyd George put aside completely—probably he never for a moment entertained—the thought of seriously threatening resignation because his agreement with the Irish was repudiated by his colleagues. He was entirely engrossed with the work of the War Office, where he thought, and was justified in thinking, himself indispensable. Mr. Asquith, whose object was to keep unity in his Government at all costs, when it came to a choice whether to quarrel with the Irish who formed no part of it, or with the Unionists who were his colleagues, had no hesitation which side to throw over.
I have never seen the House of Commons so thoroughly discontented and disgusted. There was much genuine sympathy with Redmond. Sir Edward Carson evidently shared it, and he made a conciliatory speech in which he proposed that he and the Nationalist leader should shake hands on the floor of the House. That is a gesture which comes better from the loser than from the winner, and there was no doubt that Sir Edward Carson had won. But he knew Ireland well enough to realize the meaning of his victory, and his speech indicated disquiet and even horror at the prospect before us. He was quite avowedly anxious to see a start made with Home Rule, Ulster standing apart. In a later debate, when the Government announced its intention to fill again the vacant Irish offices (appointing Mr. Duke as Chief Secretary), Redmond referred hopefully to this utterance of the Ulster leader and generally to "the new and improved atmosphere which has surrounded this Irish question quite recently."
The end of this speech dealt with one of the elements which had contributed most to the improvement. In the great battle of the Somme, which opened on July 1st, the Ulster Division went for the first time into general action, and their achievement was the most glorious and the most unlucky of that day. They carried their assault through five lines of trenches, and, because a division on their flank was not equally successful, were obliged to fall back, adding terribly in this withdrawal to the desperate losses of their advance. Side by side with them on the other flank was the Fourth Division, containing two battalions of Dublin Fusiliers, in one of which John Redmond's son commanded a company; so that he and the Ulstermen went over shoulder to shoulder. He came back unwounded; all other company commanders in the battalion were killed. The only thing in which Redmond was entirely fortunate during these last years of his life was in his son's record during the war.
Another Nationalist well known to the House of Commons served also in the Dublin Fusiliers on the Somme, with a different fortune. Professor Kettle, owing to conditions of health, had been unable to come to France with the Sixteenth Division, and had been mainly employed in recruiting. Now in these summer months he pushed hard to get out to France, though he was not physically fit for the line. He got to France, and, as was easy to foresee, broke down and was sent to work at the base on records: but before he left his regiment he knew that it was under orders for a general action, and he insisted that he should have leave to rejoin for that day. He came back accordingly, found himself called on to take command of a company, and led it with great gallantry, and on the second day of action was shot dead. It was the fate that he expected; he, like so many, had a forerunning assurance of his end. So was lost to Ireland the most variously-gifted intelligence that I have ever known.
The Sixteenth Division were still on the sector about Loos, and their casualties were heavy and continuous in the perpetual trench warfare. With the last days of August they were withdrawn—for a rest, as they believed at first; but their march was southwards to the Somme.
The purpose was to use them for an attack on Ginchy; but a shift of arrangements brought the 47th Brigade into line against Guillemont and its quarries, which had on six occasions been unsuccessfully attacked. The Irish carried them. Three days later the whole division was launched against Ginchy. They equalled the Ulstermen's valour, and were luckier in the result. For these achievements praise was not stinted. Colonel Repington in The Times described the Irish as the "best missile troops" in all the armies.
III
The deeds of Irish soldiers helped us greatly outside of Ireland; in Ireland, the news was received with mingled feelings. There was passionate resentment against the Government, and the question was asked, For what were their men dying? Redmond's answer could not be so confident as it would have been six months earlier. There were many who said that he dare not face the country. His answer to this was given at Waterford, where on October 6, 1916, his constituents received him with their old loyalty—though now for the first time there were hostile voices in the crowd. He spoke out very plainly, saying with justice that in all his life he had never played to the gallery and would not now. Things had to be looked at squarely.
"We have taken a leap back over generations of progress, and have actually had a rebellion, with its inevitable aftermath of brutalities, stupidities and inflamed passions."
He would impugn no man's motives, least of all the motives of the dead; but those who had set this train of events in motion had been always the enemies of the constitutional movement. The constitutional movement must go on, he said; but it would be folly to pretend that it could go on as if nothing had happened. Ireland must face its share in the responsibility. But the real responsibility rested with the British Government.
To establish this he entered on a review of the whole series of circumstances, not omitting Ulster's preparations for civil war, and stressing heavily the mischief that was done when Sir Edward Carson was chosen "by strange irony" to be the First Law Officer of the Crown.
Passing from his review, he issued grave warning against the idea of conscription: it would be resisted in every village and its attempted enforcement would be a scandal which would ring through the world. For Ireland also he had admonition. He had told them before that Home Rule was an impregnable position. But "no fortress is impregnable unless the garrison is faithful and united."
This, alas! was already a counsel of perfection for a country so deeply divided in opinion as Nationalist Ireland had come to be. The old loyalties had gone—and he felt it. Ending on a personal note, he referred to his age: he was over sixty; he had done thirty-five years of work which would have broken down any man less robust in constitution than it had been his luck to be born. He believed in youth, he said, and would gladly give way to younger men.
"But one thing I will not do while I have breath in my body. I will not give way to the abuse and calumny and the falsehoods of men whom I have known for long years as the treacherous enemies of Ireland."
With all his reticence, he was a sensitive man; and for months now he could scarcely take up a newspaper, except his party's official organ, without finding himself accused of imbecility, of idle vanity, of corrupt bargaining, of every unworthy motive. Worse than all, he realized the inherent weakness of his position. He told his hearers at Waterford that the Irish party would not vary its attitude upon the war, but that we should now become a regular and active opposition. He was far too experienced not to be aware that during a war—and such a war—he neither could nor would offer to the Government in power opposition in the sense in which Nationalist Ireland would understand the word.
But he took steps at once for raising the Irish question by a direct vote of censure. On October 18th he moved:
"That the system of Government at present maintained in Ireland is inconsistent with the principles for which the Allies are fighting in Europe, and has been mainly responsible for the recent unhappy events and for the present state of feeling in that country."
His speech avoided all controversial reference to what had preceded the war, but it reviewed with great power the long series of blunders, beginning with the delay in putting the Home Rule Bill on the Statute Book, and ending with the Cabinet's destruction of the agreement entered into in June. Now, as the end of all, Dublin Castle, after the Prime Minister's description of its hopeless breakdown, was set up again with a Unionist Chief Secretary and a Unionist Attorney-General: with a universal system of martial law in force throughout the country, and with hundreds of interned men in prison on suspicion. He warned the Government of the inevitable effect upon the flow of recruits for the Irish Divisions; and in a passage which showed how close his attention was to all this matter of recruitment, he pressed the War Office for certain minor concessions to Irish sentiment which would help us to maintain the Division that had so greatly distinguished itself at Guillemont and Ginchy.
But the real pith of his speech was political in the larger sense. He pressed upon the House the injury which England's interest was suffering through the alienation of American opinion, and through the reflection of Irish discontent in Australia; he pleaded for the withdrawal of martial law. Nothing came of the debate, except a speech in which Mr. Lloyd George admitted the "stupidities, which sometimes almost look like malignancy," that were perpetrated at the beginning of recruiting in Ireland. The Labour men and a few Liberals voted for our motion. But as a menace to the Government it was negligible.
I was in France during the period of intrigue which followed, leading up to the displacement of Mr. Asquith. When the change occurred, members of Parliament who were serving were recalled by special summons. I found Redmond in these days profoundly impressed with the strength of Mr. Lloyd George's personal position. He was convinced that the new Premier could, if he chose, force a settlement of the Irish difficulty, and was very hopeful of this happening. Sir Edward Carson dared not, he thought, set himself in opposition; at this moment the Ulster party was not popular, while there was in the House a widespread feeling that Redmond in particular had been treated in a manner far other than his due. Another of his brother's interventions in debate gave an impetus to this sympathy.
Again in a thin House, during some discussion on Estimates, Willie Redmond got up and spoke out of the fullness of experiences which had profoundly affected his imagination. He told the House of what he had seen in Flanders, where the two Irish Divisions had at last been brought into contact, so that the left of the Ulster line in front of Ploegstreet touched the right of ours in front of Kemmel. It had always been said that the two factions would fly at each other's throats: by a score of happy detailed touches the soldier built up a picture of what had actually happened in the line and behind the line, and then summed it up in a conclusion:
"They came together in the trenches and they were friends. Get them together on the floor of an Assembly, or where you will, in Ireland, and a similar result will follow."
Then, from this theme, he passed to one even more moving—the fate of Irish Nationalists, who were confronted daily with evil news of their own land. "It is miserable to see men who went out with high hearts and hopes, who have acquitted themselves so well, filled with wretchedness because their country is in an unhappy condition." He appealed for a new and genuine attempt to set all this right; and he eulogized once more with warm eloquence the conduct of the troops, Ulstermen and the rest alike. Raw lads, who eighteen months before had never thought of seeing war, had come in before his eyes bringing prisoners by the hundreds from the most highly trained soldiery in Europe.
Man after man, when Willie Redmond had ended, rose and thanked him; but the most notable words came from Mr. Bonar Law:
"His name and his action, in connection with that of the leader of his party, stand out as a landmark for all the people of this country as to what is being done by those who represent Nationalist feeling."
All this increased Redmond's hopes of what might be expected from the new Premier, the representative of another small nationality, whose early days in Parliament had linked him almost more closely with Irish Nationalists than with British Liberalism. I was on the upper bench when Mr. Lloyd George came in, amid loud cheering. "Look at him," said Willie Redmond (his senior in the House by ten years), who sat beside me: "It seems only the other day he was sitting over here cheering like mad for the Boers; and there he is now, Prime Minister."
But Mr. Lloyd George's speech, which had been deferred for several days owing to illness, was long before it came to Ireland, and then its tone was no way hopeful. He referred back to the negotiations of June and July, with their "atmosphere of nervous suspicion and distrust, pervasive, universal, of everything and everybody."
"I was drenched with suspicion of Irishmen by Englishmen and of Englishmen by Irishmen and, worst of all, of Irishmen by Irishmen. It was a quagmire of distrust which clogged the footsteps and made progress impossible. That is the real enemy of Ireland."
No one could say that the transaction to which Mr. Lloyd George was referring had helped to destroy distrust: and in view of the opinion held by Irishmen—and not by Irishmen only—of Ministers' dealing with Ireland, it was natural that this passage should provoke the resentment which was evident in Redmond when he rose.
He followed Mr. Asquith, and made it clear that Ireland did not keep its praises for the rising star. He commended in weighty words the patriotism, the reticence and the magnanimity of the dispossessed leader; he renewed Ireland's expression of gratitude for the service done in the Home Rule Act; then, turning to the new power, he told Mr. Lloyd George bluntly that his words would be received in Ireland with the deepest disappointment. This was to be a Ministry of quick and effective decisions; but so far as our question was concerned, they had shown every disposition to wait and see. Was Ireland only to be let drift? Two courses might be taken—the statesman's, of real remedy; the politician's, of palliatives. Even of the latter nothing had been said. Martial law could be removed; untried men could be released from jail. Yet there was no sign. The Prime Minister intervened angrily. He had been ill, he said. Redmond was in no way inclined to accept the reason as sufficient, and again Mr. Lloyd George rose to say that it was "not merely unfair, but a trifle impolitic" not to give him a couple of days to consult with the Chief Secretary.
Still Redmond maintained his tone of aggression. A radical reform was needed, and of those things that must be borne in mind the first was that time was of the essence of success. Promptness was essential. Secondly, Government must take the initiative themselves; they must not seek to evade their responsibility by putting the blame on other shoulders (this was his rejoinder to the allegation of paralysing distrust); there was no use in resuming negotiations, going to this man and to that man to see what he would be willing to take. Thirdly, the problem must be approached by a different method; it must be dealt with on lines of a united Ireland. The time had gone by, in effect, for any proposals of partition, temporary or permanent.
He added a caution that there must be no attempt to mix up the problem of an Irish settlement with conditions about recruiting or conscription. "That question must be left to a change of heart in Ireland." In conclusion he expressed to the House of Commons—though in no sanguine accents—what he had expressed to me a fortnight earlier in private talk: his belief that the time was "ripe for drastic, decided and bold action" by the Prime Minister. Powerful influences were at Mr. Lloyd George's back—in the Press of all parties, in the opinion of leading men of all parties. Three-quarters of the House of Commons, Redmond said, would welcome such action: the whole of the overseas Dominions would be for it; and it would have "the sympathy of all men of good will in the Empire."
For the first time I noticed lack of cordiality in the response of the House—not from want of agreement, but from a profound depression. The old temper of bickering had revived, especially between some of our party and those who disagreed with them. One was glad to get back to France for Christmas, even in that grim winter.
When I was invalided back in February, I found that things had not stood still in Ireland. Redmond's suggested palliative had been applied, and the deported persons were let back home for Christmas. But this produced little easing of the situation, and within a few weeks Government rearrested several of them.
One, however, Count Plunkett, was still in Ireland when a vacancy occurred in Roscommon. He was not in himself a likely man to appeal to that constituency. He had been an applicant for the Under-Secretaryship at Dublin Castle, and was therefore clearly not a person of extreme Nationalist views. But one of his sons, a young poet, had been among the signatories to the proclamation of an Irish Republic, and had paid for it with his life; Count Plunkett stood really as the father of his son. He was returned by a very large majority. This was the first open defeat inflicted by the physical force men on the Constitutional party since the beginning of Parnell's day.
In March, Redmond desired to bring the Irish question again before Parliament, and Mr. T.P. O'Connor introduced a motion calling on the House "without further delay to confer upon Ireland the free institutions long promised her."
That debate will always be remembered by those who heard it for one speech. Willie Redmond was among the oldest members of the Parliamentary party; not half a dozen men in all the House had been longer continuously members; he had always been one of the most popular figures at Westminster and in Ireland; and he had always spoken a great deal. Yet he had never been in the front rank either as a speaker or as a politician. The humour and the wit which made him the joy of groups in the smoking-room on the occasions when he was in full vein of reminiscence never got into his set speeches—though no man oftener lit up debate with some telling interruption. He was often merely rhetorical; he had the name—though in my experience he never deserved it—for being indiscreetly vehement. His early reputation, which he had never lived down, is not unkindly represented by a story which he used to tell against himself. When the first Home Rule Bill was introduced he had a great desire to speak in the debate, and went to Parnell with his request. "Will you promise," said Parnell, "that you will write out what you are going to say, and show it to me, and say that and no more?" He promised, and handed in his manuscript. Days went by and he heard nothing, so he went back to the Chief. "Ah yes," said Parnell, "I have it in my pocket. An excellent speech, my dear Willie. If I were you I shouldn't waste it on the House of Commons. It's too good for them."
Later, in the days from 1906 onwards, with all his experience, it cannot be said that he ever affected opinion in the House. What he said was the common stuff of argument: it was all what someone else might have said—until the war came. Then, he was a changed creature. He went through in the Army the same experience as hundreds of other members of Parliament; but he and he only seemed to have got the very soul out of it. He took to his soldier's duty as a religion: he saw all that concerned him in the light of it. It has been told already how his two speeches on almost casual occasions affected public feeling: but in them he was chiefly an Irish member of Parliament speaking about soldiers and about Irish soldiers. In this debate he was an Irish soldier pleading with Parliament for Ireland in the name of Irish soldiers—who had responded to the call to arms because, as he said, they were led to believe that a new and better and brighter chapter was about to open in the relations of Great Britain and Ireland.
"I do not believe that there is a single member of any party in this House who is prepared to get up and say that in the past the government and treatment of Ireland by Great Britain have been what they should have been. Mistakes, dark, black, and bitter mistakes, have been made. A people denied justice, a people with many admitted grievances, the redress of which has been long delayed. On our side, perhaps, in the conflict and in the bitterness of contest, there may have been things said and done, offensive if you will, irritating if you will, to the people of this country; but what I want to ask, in all simplicity, is this, whether, in face of the tremendous conflict which is now raging, whether, in view of the fact that, apart from every other consideration, the Irish people, South as well as North, are upon the side of the Allies and against the German pretension to-day, it is not possible from this war to make a new start?—whether it is not possible on your side, and on ours as well, to let the dead past bury its dead, and to commence a brighter and a newer and a friendlier era between the two countries? Why cannot we do it? Is there an Englishman representing any party who does not yearn for a better future between Ireland and Great Britain? There is no Irishman who is not anxious for it also. Why cannot there be a settlement? Why must it be that, when British soldiers and Irish soldiers are suffering and dying side by side, this eternal old quarrel should go on?....
"If there ought to be an oblivion of the past between Great Britain and Ireland generally, may I ask in God's name the First Lord of the Admiralty [Sir Edward Carson] why there cannot be a similar oblivion of the past between the warring sections in Ireland? All my life I have taken as strong and as strenuous a part on the Nationalist side as my poor abilities would allow. I may have been as bitter and as strong in the heated atmosphere of party contests against my countrymen in the North as ever they have been against me, but I believe in my soul and heart here to-day that I represent the instinct and the desire of the whole Irish Catholic race when I say that there is nothing that they more passionately desire and long for than that there should be an end of this old struggle between the North and the South.
"The followers of the right honourable gentleman the First Lord of the Admiralty should shake hands with the rest of their countrymen. I appeal to the right honourable gentleman here in the name of men against whom no finger of scorn can be pointed; in the name of men who are doing their duty; in the name of men who have died; in the name of men who may die, and who at this very moment may be dying, to rise to the demands of the situation. I ask him to meet his Nationalist fellow-countrymen and accept the offer which they make to him and his followers, and on the basis of that self-government which has made, and which alone has made, the Empire as strong as it is to-day, come to some arrangement for the better government of Ireland in the future.
"Why does the right honourable gentleman opposite not meet us half way? I want to know what is the reason. It surely cannot be that the right honourable gentleman and his friends believe that under a system of self-government they would have anything to fear. Nothing impressed me more than the opinion I heard expressed by a high-placed Roman Catholic officer who is in service with the Ulster Division, when he told me of his experience there, and when he said that although he was the only one of the Catholic religion in that Division, it had dawned upon him that they certainly were Irishmen and were not Englishmen or Scotsmen.[8] The right honourable gentleman knows perfectly well that it would not take so very much to bring his friends and our friends together, and I ask him why the attempt is not made? I ask him whether the circumstances of the time do not warrant that such an attempt should be made? I ask him whether he does not know in his inmost heart that it would bring to the common enemy more dismay and consternation than the destruction of a hundred of their submarines if they knew that England, Scotland and Ireland were really united, not merely within the confines of the shores of these islands, but united in every part of the world where the Irish people are to be found?
"What is it that stands in the way of Ireland taking her place as a self-governing part of this Empire? Ireland is the only portion of the Empire now fighting which is not self-governing. The Australians whom I meet from time to time point to their government being free; the Canadians and the New Zealanders do the same, and we Irishmen are the only units in France to-day taking our part in the war who are obliged to admit that the country we come from is denied those privileges which have made the Empire the strong organization which it is to-day. If safeguards are necessary—I speak only for myself, and I do not speak for anybody else on these benches, because I have been away from this House so long that I have almost lost touch with things—as far as my own personal opinion goes, there is nothing I would not do, and there is no length to which I would not go, in order to meet the real objections or to secure the real confidence, friendship and affection of my countrymen in the North of Ireland.
"For my own part, I would gladly, if it would ease the situation, agree to an arrangement whereby it might be possible for His Majesty the King, if he so desired, to call in someone at the starting of a new Irish government, a gentleman representing the portion of the country and the section of the community which the First Lord represents; and if a representative of that kind were placed with his hand upon the helm of the first Irish Parliament, I, at any rate, as far as I am concerned, would give him the loyal and the strong support which I have given to every leader I have supported in this House. After all, these are times of sacrifice, and every man is called upon to make some sacrifices. Men and women and children alike have to do something in these days, and is it too much to appeal to the right honourable gentleman and his friends to sacrifice some part of their position in order to lead the majority of their countrymen and to bring about that which the whole English-speaking world desires, namely, a real reconciliation of Ireland? I apologize for having detained the House so long, but this is a matter upon which I feel strongly, and I feel all the more strongly about it because I know that I am trying altogether too feebly, but as strongly as I can, to represent what I know to be the wishes nearest to the hearts of tens of thousands of Irishmen who went with me and their colleagues to France, many of whom will never return, all of whom are suffering the privations and the hardship and the risk and the wellnigh intolerable circumstances of life in France. I want to speak for these men, and if they could all speak with one voice and with one accord, they would say to this House, to men in every part of it, to Conservatives, Liberals and Labour men, to their Nationalist countrymen and to their countrymen from the North of Ireland: In the name of God, we here who are about to die, perhaps, ask you to do that which largely induced us to leave our homes; to do that which our fathers and mothers taught us to long for; to do that which is all we desire: make our country happy and contented, and enable us, when we meet the Canadians and the Australians and the New Zealanders side by side in the common cause and the common field, to say to them, 'Our country, just as yours, has self-government within the Empire.'"
I have given the speech almost in full as it stands in print after the opening paragraph. But I cannot give the effect of what was heard by a densely crowded House in absolute silence. It was not an argument; it was an appeal. There was not a cheer, not a murmur of agreement. They were not needed, they would have been felt an impertinence, so great was the respect and the sympathy. As the speaker stood there in war-stained khaki, his hair showed grey, his face was seamed with lines, but there was in every word the freshness and simplicity of a nature that age had not touched. In his usual place on the upper bench beside his brother, he poured out his words with the flow and passion of a bird's song. He was out of the sphere of argument; but the whole experience of a long and honourable lifetime was vibrant in that utterance. He spoke from his heart. All that had gone to make his faith, all the inmost convictions of his life were implicit—and throughout all ran the sense in the assembly who heard him, not only that he had risked, but that he was eager to give his life for proof. It was not strange that this should be so, for he was going on what he believed would be his last journey to France; and when he reached the supreme moment of his passion with the words "In the name of God, we here who are about to die, perhaps," the last word was little more than a concession to the conventions.
It was a speech, in short, that made one believe in impossibilities; but in Parliament no miracles happen. Mr. Lloyd George replied, as John Redmond expected—declaring that the Government were willing to give Home Rule at once to "the parts of Ireland which unmistakably demand it," but would be no party to placing under Nationalist rule people who were "as alien in blood, in religious faith, in traditions, in outlook from the rest of Ireland as the inhabitants of Fife or Aberdeen." No Liberal Minister had ever before so completely adopted the Ulster theory of two nations. Taxed with the refusal to allow Ulster counties to declare by vote which group they belonged to, he declined to discuss "geographical limitations" at present, but indicated that if Irish members could accept the principle of separate treatment for two peoples, there were "ways and means by which it could be worked out." Suggestion of a Conference of Irishmen was thrown out, or of a Commission to discuss the details of partition. Redmond, in replying, answered to this that "after experience of the last negotiations he would enter into no more negotiations." He warned the Government that the whole constitutional movement was in danger. There were in Ireland "serious men, men of ability, men with command of money," who were bent on smashing it.
"After fifty years of labour on constitutional lines we had practically banished the revolutionary party from Ireland. Now again, after fifty years, it has risen."
The rest was a prophecy only too accurate:
"If the constitutional movement disappears, the Prime Minister will find himself face to face with a revolutionary movement, and he will find it impossible to preserve any of the forms even of constitutionalism. He will have to govern Ireland by the naked sword. I cannot picture to myself a condition of things in which the Prime Minister, with his record behind him, would be an instrument to carry out a government of that kind.... I say this plainly. No British statesman, no matter what his platonic affection for Home Rule may have been in the past, no matter what party he may belong to, who by his conduct once again teaches the Irish people the lesson that any National leader who, taking his political life in his hands, endeavours to combine local and Imperial patriotism—endeavours to combine loyalty to Ireland's rights with loyalty to the Empire—anyone who again teaches the lesson that such an one is certain to be let down and betrayed by this course, is guilty of treason, not only to the liberties of Ireland but to the unity and strength and best interests of this Empire."
After these bitter words he called on his colleagues not "to continue a useless and humiliating debate," but to withdraw from the House: and we accordingly followed him into the lobby. In our absence the discussion continued, in a tone not flattering to the Government. It was remarkable for one utterance from Mr. Healy, concerning Redmond:
"I wish to say at the outset that in my opinion this Empire owes him a debt of gratitude which it can never repay, and I wish also to say of him as an opponent that in my opinion, if his advice had been taken by the War Office, it is absolutely true, as he contends, that you would have marshalled in Ireland from two hundred thousand to three hundred thousand men, from whom large drafts could have been drawn; and I will further say I believe if his advice had been taken the elements of rebellion would have been appeased."
It was plain that matters could not stay at this point; but our breach with the Government was complete for the moment. Redmond's demand was for a full and definite statement of policy, which should be made in the House of Commons and there discussed. On May 15th Mr. Bonar Law announced that the Prime Minister would make a communication to the leaders of Irish parties. It was explained that this method of outlining the proposals would be only preliminary to discussion.
On that evening a great banquet to General Smuts was given in the House of Lords by Parliament. Strong pressure was used with Redmond to attend it, and he consented unwillingly. He was ill—physically ill, probably with the beginnings of his fatal disease—and morally sick at heart and out of hope. Another Irish election in South Longford had been strenuously fought by the party and had been won by the Sinn Feiner; a decisive factor in the election was the issue of a letter from Archbishop Walsh which grossly misrepresented Redmond's whole policy and action. He was in no humour for banquetings, and at this moment the Irish party was nearly back at its old attitude, which dictated a refusal to have part or lot with the House on such ceremonial occasions.[9] But Redmond's feeling for South Africa was specially strong, his feeling about the war was unchanged; and this was a recognition of a great South African statesman's services in the war. He let himself be persuaded into accepting.
At the dinner he sat next to a Liberal peer, a member of the late Government, who talked with him of Irish possibilities. Redmond did not know what the Government intended. He was told, now, that the Government had written a letter to him and to Sir Edward Carson setting out plainly an offer for the immediate introduction of Home Rule with the exclusion of the six counties.
Redmond said: "It is impossible that we should accept; nothing can come of it." He was asked then what hope he saw. He answered, as he had for some time been saying in private, that the only chance lay in a Conference or Convention of Irishmen; but it must include everybody, and in no sense be limited to discussion between the Irish party and the Unionists. The Liberal peer expressed great interest and proved it in action. Next morning he was with Redmond by ten o'clock, and got his view in writing that it might be placed before the Cabinet, who were to meet at eleven to decide finally the terms of their letter.
As a result of this intervention, the letter, instead of containing a single proposal, offered two alternatives: the second was so oddly tacked on that many at the time said it read like a postscript. So, in point of fact, it was. That was the genesis of the Irish Convention.
His son, from whom I know this, said to me that more than once, when things were hopeful in the Convention, Redmond said to him, "What a lucky thing it was I went to that dinner!"
FOOTNOTES: