own contribution. Speaking exclusively through the medium of Irish, the principal language of the ceremony, he, with Con Collins seconding, proposed the acceptance of the document and, in the process, even though he himself had no interest in socialism, flexibly delivered a speech which, in the opinion of a historian of the left, was worthy of James Connolly himself:110 ‘A Nation cannot live and function while any part of its people are denied the right to the assets and riches which God bestowed on all of us … I ask you to accept this motion. Let us enshrine it in our laws, and, in our actions, let us remember those whom it is our duty to teach and to defend.’ At the same time, to be fair to him, his speech was genuine to the extent that its other sentiments were in the nature of a nationalist prayer of praise, an attribute which was not to be found in Connolly’s anti-clerical oeuvre: ‘this country … is beautiful like God made her, rich from the toil of her people, bright with laughter, blissful with mirth, holy with religion and benevolence’.111
Next day, in secret session and in the absence of de Valera et al., the Dáil provisionally appointed the following Aireacht or Cabinet (hereafter simply cited as the Cabinet, a term which will also be used to describe the executive of the merged Dáil Cabinet and Provisional Government for the period, 9 September–6 December 1922): President (Brugha); Defence (Mulcahy); Finance (MacNeill); Foreign Affairs (Plunkett); and Home Affairs (Collins), This Cabinet lasted roughly two months and Liam de Róiste had this to say of it: ‘I find in the papers that “The Republican Government” has done this; that “Dáil Éireann” has done that; that such and such has been authorised by the “Republican Headquarters” or by the “Sinn Féin Executive” – things which I, as a fact, know have not been discussed by any such bodies … Isn’t it great to be a public representative!!’112
It is understandable that de Róiste felt irritated. The Dáil did not sit during the period 23 January–31 March due to the worsening violence throughout the country. Nonetheless, de Róiste’s complaints do indicate that Brugha, Collins and Mulcahy were able to exercise a great deal of political power in a tough adroit manner: ‘bossism’.113 Also, Collins and Mulcahy, much more than Brugha, interested themselves in Sinn Féin’s political routine as an adjunct to their Cabinet responsibilities. They attended virtually all of the standing committee meetings. Mulcahy, along with Brugha, Collins, Boland and Mrs Wyse Power, partook in a sub-committee to formulate the agenda and suggest a scheme for a new standing committee to be presented to the Sinn Féin Executive on 20 February. On 6 March, he seconded Collins’ motion that an advertisement should be placed in the Sunday Independent seeking funds for Dáil Éireann and, in the same month, he and Boland organised public meetings throughout the country for the release of the German Plot prisoners. Apart from de Valera, whose escape from Lincoln Jail had successfully been engineered by Collins and Boland on 3 February, these prisoners were eventually released thirty-two days later on humanitarian grounds due to the ravages of the flu pandemic.114
And so, on the eve of the establishment of the Dáil’s first permanent Cabinet, 1–2 April 1919, at a time when he was approaching the age of thirty-three and when the country was on the verge of war, Mulcahy occupied a politico–military position of significant importance. Effectively, the act of hitching his star to Collins and his military-based IRB group facilitated, if not guaranteed, his promotion on to the Volunteer resident executive as DT and on to GHQ, maybe as CS, but certainly soon afterwards as acting CS in Brugha’s absence. Also, without de Valera, but, more so, without Brugha, he was given the opportunity to morph into the deal-making world of party politics, an opportunity he grasped with both hands by becoming a senior member of Sinn Féin, winning a seat in parliament and negotiating an agreement on the Democratic Programme with Labour.
All of those events contributed to his new-found status as an eager, astute, quiet-mannered, but somewhat aloof, achiever. So, even though, as yet, he had not reached the very top of the nationalist elite, the circumstances of the imminent military independence struggle would improve his standing still further. However, that war was also to end a decade of romantic nationalism for him. Instead of confirming him in the bold radical image which he had lately acquired, it exposed him as a conservative individual. Indeed, deep down, during the previous nine months, while practicing the art of politics as an IRB member but also as an increasingly prominent member of Sinn Féin, he might have already begun to think that way. But, for certain, during his mid-thirties he became socially distant, politically complex and militarily circumspect.
CHAPTER 5
Confined
IRA GHQ, 1919–21
On 2 April 1919, after de Valera, who had been chosen as President the day before, had submitted the names of the first full Cabinet to the Dáil, Brugha, now Minister for Defence, explained that, because of the demands of his business commitments, he was immediately establishing the position of Assistant Minister for Defence (AMD) at a salary of £300.1 Mulcahy was not named there and then, even though, seemingly, Brugha had already settled with him that he would become the new AMD,2 while continuing to hold down the position of CS.3
Meanwhile, it was becoming increasingly obvious that matters were quickly approaching a critical point due to the continuing aggression of a very small and, as yet, uncoordinated, minority within the Volunteers, as witnessed by the wounding of Head Constable Clark by Donncadha MacNeilus in Cork on 4 November 1918; the release of MacNeilus from Cork jail by an armed group of Volunteers seven days later; and the murder of two RIC constables at Soloheadbeg, Tipperary on 21 January, the date on which the War of Independence is credited to have begun. Also, in the mistaken belief that severe policing would annoy the local community to such an extent that they would become intolerant of such violence and would want to quieten the guilty parties, Dublin Castle, in early February, declared South Tipperary to be a special military area. The plan failed. Nobody betrayed Breen, Treacy, Hogan (Seán) and Robinson. However, some people became annoyed with officialdom and it was this smouldering hostility which created the environment for still further violence.4
These then were the types of unstable factors which complicated the otherwise neat paper list of Mulcahy’s duties as CS, namely: ‘the development of the company, battalion and brigade organisation, the enforcement and encouragement of discipline, the attempt to build up a supply of arms, and the perfections [sic] of communications’.5 In particular, in continuing to develop the brigade structure which Collins, as DO, commenced in November 1918,6 he discovered that the nub of the problem was that some counties, like the already mentioned Cork and Tipperary, were much more enthusiastic and efficient than others, a discrepancy which can only, in part, be explained by the diverse quality of local leaders, who, invariably, were elected by their own units rather than selected by GHQ.7 For that reason, Collins intended to give talented officers the chance to control larger tracts of land than would otherwise be the case if they remained within their own companies.8 For instance, counties Cork and Clare were each divided into three brigade areas and meetings to consolidate them were under way by early January 1919, with further initiation conferences being held under Mulcahy’s charge during the period, July–August 1919.9
But, at the same time, similar to the pacifist anti-conscription campaign of April–May 1918, de Valera, as President, and Brugha, as MD, wanted to do the direct opposite, i.e. to curtail the fervour of the most active Volunteers. Also, more profoundly, on 10 April, when the Paris Peace delegation (Seán T. Ó Ceallaigh and Erskine Childers) was contemporaneously trying to secure favourable copy in publications like Temps and Journal de Debats,10 de Valera put down an international marker concerning the civil–military relationship. In terms of sovereignty, he said: ‘There is in Ireland at this moment only one lawful authority, and that authority is the elected Government of the Irish Republic.’ In terms of the Volunteers, he said: ‘The Minister of National Defence is, of course, in close association with the Voluntary military forces which are the foundation of the National Army.’11
However, he did not claim, indeed he could hardly claim, that ‘the Voluntary military forces’, particularly the members of army GHQ, Collins above all others, were scrupulously mindful of the deference owed to Brugha as
