Focusing on the people and the decisons they made,'The Fall of Dublin' examines the attack on the Four Courts and the subsequent fighting in Dublin in June and July 1922 which signalled the beginning of the Irish Civil War.

 

With the use of new sources the book challenges many of the established views on the fighting in Dublin – the role of the leadership on both sides, the personalities of those involved and even the destruction of the Four Courts. These sources not only shed new light on the conflict itself, but more importantly they are invaluable in telling the stories of the ordinary men and women on both sides of the divide who for many years have been forgotten.

 

They include memoirs from people on the ground, Military History Bureau witness statements, a complete garrison list of people in The Four Courts, a copy of the army constitution and a copy of the republican proclamation.

 Reviews
www.comheretome.wordpress.com - 'She's made good use of some unusual archives and sources......the main body of text is incredibly readable.' To read the full review please click here

Elizabeth Gillis was recently interviewed on Dublin City FM 'Looking Back'. To listen to the full interview please click here.

www.ansionnachfionn.wordpress.com- 'The remarkably non-partisan ‘The Fall of Dublin’, though short in length, is packed with information, some little known, some surprising, and is highly readable making Liz Gillis a historian worth watching in the future.' To read the full review please click here.


Customer review: Andrew Haworth, 2011
Those who have even a mild interest in Irish history are aware of the reasons for the Irish Civil War that took place from June 1922 until May 1923.The results are still felt to this day in the political sphere, as the dead were buried, the wounds were healed but the scars never fully disappeared from Irish society.  Ireland moved on and rebuilt itself but the blood that was spilt, the betrayal that civil war brought, was more difficult to forget. For people to fully comprehend modern Irish politics, they must understand the civil war, the reasons for its occurrence and the events that stained the new nation. 

'The Fall of Dublin' by Liz Gillis, published by Mercier Press as part of their series on the Military History of the Civil War, focuses on the initial shots of the Civil War in the capital city of Dublin. The principle reason for the book is to detail the battles that took place on the streets and in the buildings of the city as the Anti-Treaty Republicans, fought against the Pro-Treaty National Army. Gillis traces the failure of reconciliation between the two sides as they both wanted some form of compromise to occur. Firstly they wanted to avoid casualties, secondly to continue the progress that had been made for the nationalist movement in Ireland and finally not to lose focus onthe Catholic population in the North. An explanation is given as to the reasons for the war and how the Republicans ended up taking over the four courts for those unfamiliar with the story. Once we know this Gillis tells the tale of the attack on the Four Courts that started on June 28, 1922 and ended outside the Granville Hotel on July 5.  These events have been brushed over in the past as historians attempt to discuss the politics of the war, more than the battles, however they have been brought to the forefront with this book. Concise chapters and short sentences help quicken the pace the text is read,helping to portray the intensity the men and women who took part in the war felt. The language used is not complex and readers will discover that with the division of the chapters into daily accounts, each chapter is an adventure and filled with imaginative descriptions that do not sacrifice the scholarly intent. Primary sources are used throughout and taken both from the military archives and newspaper reports. Quotes from the participants on both sides describe the feelings they had and the thoughts that went through their mind. It moves away from the more famous people of the era such as EamonDe Valera, Michael Collin and Arthur Griffith, these people are mentioned, but the peripheral characters such as Marie Comerford, Cathal Brugha and Rory O’Connor take a more central role. During the course of any civil war, there will always be controversies,differences of opinion depending on which side the historian comes from, Gillis, manages to dissect the problematic areas but does not answer them, in particular she is ambivalent as to who or what causedthe Four Courts to explode. She gives the evidence, the opinions on both sides but stays away from a definitive answer which is what a book of this nature should do.

'The Fall of Dublin' will not change a person’s opinion on the civil war, nor will it redefine our knowledge but as a description of the events of the first week of the civil war in Dublin it fulfils its role. Those who walk past the buildings in Dublin on a daily bases, or visit the city and ponder its history will find this to be an enjoyable read.  Those interested in reading more on the militaristic side of the civil war as a distinction from the politics, will not be disappointed due to the information and the enthrallment Gillis has provided.


The Fall of Dublin
Military History of the Irish Civil War
Liz Gillis
Series Editor: Gabriel Doherty
Mercier Press, Cork

Contents
Chapter 1    The Treaty to the Split   
Chapter 2    Takeover of the Four Courts   
Chapter 3    April to June 1922   
Chapter 4    18–26 June   
Chapter 5    27–28 June   
Chapter 6    Wednesday 28 June
Chapter 7    Thursday 29 June   
Chapter 8    Friday 30 June   
Chapter 9    Friday 30 June to Saturday 1 July   
Chapter 10    Saturday 1 July   
Chapter 11    Sunday 2 July   
Chapter 12    Monday 3 July   
Chapter 13    Tuesday 4 July   
Chapter 14    Wednesday 5 July   
Chapter 15    Aftermath   
Chapter 16    Conclusion   
    Appendix 1   
    Appendix 2   
    Endnotes   
    Bibliography   
    Index   

Foreword
Given their importance in the histories of those nations unlucky enough to have endured them, it is surprising to note that the first shots of many civil wars have been fired in peripheral locales, bereft of obvious political, economic or strategic significance. To take the most significant example in the modern era, Fort Sumter, a miniscule installation at the mouth of Charlestown harbour, was a far from prepossessing location for the start of the most devastating conflict in American history, and a similar provincial pattern was evident in the origins of many internecine conflicts in twentieth-century Europe, in countries as disparate as Finland in 1918, Spain in 1936 and Bosnia in 1992.
The Irish Civil War was fundamentally different in this respect, in that its opening salvoes were fired from positions in the very centre of the capital city, Dublin; these shots were fired moreover, in the certain knowledge that the attack on the anti-Treaty garrison in the Four Courts would immediately result in general, nationwide warfare. The Irish Civil War, of course, differs in other respects from the conflicts mentioned above, not least in its limited scale, but most significantly in the fact that the initial, and swiftly-concluded, exchanges proved to be the decisive engagement of the entire campaign. Within a matter of days the strategic heart of the new state was completely, and rather unexpectedly, in the hands of pro-Treaty troops, who capitalised on this initial victory with a seemingly irresistible advance southwards and westwards, slowing down only, and temporarily, when they hit their enemy’s Munster heartlands. In registering this stunning strategic victory Michael Collins further enhanced his burgeoning reputation as a political and military figure of substance – but, just perhaps, in so doing he also sowed, in his hour of victory, the seeds of hubris that were to lead to his own death in the by-ways of west Cork a few weeks later.
The narrative of these crucial, formative days in the history of modern Ireland, forms the basis for Liz Gillis’ study. It is a drama with many characters (heroic or villainous depending on one’s viewpoint), sub-plots, unexpected twists and, above all, a brutally swift denouement. It is adroitly delivered here, with the benefit of source materials unavailable to the surprisingly small number of authors who have written on the topic in the past. Her exploration of the ideological, personal and political backdrop to the bombardment of the Four Courts, and the subsequent collapse of the anti-Treaty forces in the capital, repay detailed consideration, as does her plaintive closing rhetorical question as to the purpose of it all. All told, it is an exemplary volume in Mercier’s Military History of the Irish Civil War series.
Without wishing to go too far beyond the military focus of the series, I will close by seeking to posit the first act of this national tragedy in a slightly broader context. Given the limited loss of life and relatively small scale of the material destruction experienced during the eleven months of fighting, the explanation as to why the legacy of the Irish Civil War is so much more enduring than that of more destructive conflicts in other lands must surely be sought as much, if not more, in the realm of collective social psychology as in the details of its military events, narrowly defined. There are many aspects to this key element of national mentalité, with the obvious ones being the contempt of the pro-Treaty side for their opponents’ apparent indifference to the democratic decision of the Dáil in January 1922, and the disgust of the anti-Treatyites at their former comrades’ perceived abandonment of the republic. In the context of the current volume, however, the crux surely lies in the fact that this landmark battle, fought in the heart of the nation’s capital, and for the soul of its people, in the very streets that six years before had witnessed the sacred days of the Easter Rising, produced a complete, and almost bloodless, victory for the pro-Treaty side, and a republican collapse from entrenched positions in a fashion the British had never been able to effect. The resulting sense of shame and demoralisation, and the inevitable search for scapegoats on the losing side, was matched only by the barely-contained contempt harboured by the victors for their erstwhile comrades. Had the fighting lasted longer, had the victory been closer, had the casualties been greater in this initial phase, perhaps the bitterness engendered by the outcome, paradoxically, might – just might – have been less keenly etched on the national psyche in the long run. As with all counter-factual history we can, of course, never have clear answers to such questions, but, at minimum, we can certainly thank Liz Gillis for giving us the solid ground upon which such informed speculation can rest.
Gabriel Doherty

Chapter 1
The Treaty to the Split
On 11 July 1921, the people of Ireland woke to the news that hostilities between the Irish Republican Army (IRA) and British forces had officially ended. The War of Independence was at last over and, unsurprisingly, the ordinary citizens who had suffered greatly over the preceding two and a half years had something to hope for – peace. No one knew what the future would hold for the country, but at that time the joy and elation felt through•out Ireland was immeasurable. This state of affairs was to be short-lived, however, when less than one year later, two armies would again bear arms in Ireland. This time it would be Irishman killing Irishman, and the first shots of what was to become the Irish Civil War were heard on 28 June 1922, when the battle for Dublin city began.
The signing of the Anglo-Irish Treaty on 6 December 1921 ended the possibility of Ireland becoming a united thirty-two-county Republic, and with it ended the unity of the Republican movement that had prevailed in previous years. For some, the Treaty was the best that could be achieved at that time; to use Michael Collins’ words, it was ‘a stepping-stone’ to getting full independence later. For many, however, it was seen as a betrayal of the Republican ideal and an insult to all of those who had suffered and died for the Republic. However, under the threat from Britain of ‘immediate and terrible war’, five Irishmen signed the Treaty in the early hours of 6 December. It was a document that gave so much hope yet would cause so much tragedy, which would be felt in Ireland for years to come.1
The Treaty split both Sinn Féin, the political wing of the Republican movement, and the IRA, the military wing. Between the signing of the document on 6 December 1921 and 7 January 1922, there was much debate in the Dáil on the merits of accepting or rejecting the Treaty. Both the pro-Treaty side, headed by Michael Collins and Arthur Griffith, and the anti-Treaty side, under the leadership of Éamon de Valera and Cathal Brugha, in often highly charged discussions, sought to obtain a result that would appeal to both sides of the divide. This, however, proved to be an unrealistic goal, though at that time no one believed it to be so.
On 7 January 1922, the Dáil ratified the Treaty by sixty-four votes to fifty-seven. De Valera and his supporters left the Dáil in protest. With them went the hope that the Republican movement could survive intact, but even at this stage the idea that civil war might actually break out was far from people’s minds. Despite the politicians making their decision, the army still believed that an all-out split could be avoided. For the next six months it was the army and not the politicians who really tried to find a solution, but in the end it proved to be a futile effort.
On 9 January 1922, Arthur Griffith replaced Éamon de Valera as president of the Dáil. Richard Mulcahy replaced Cathal Brugha as Minister for Defence, after which he stated that ‘the Army [IRA] will remain the Army of the Irish Republic’2 However, the army was split on the issue of the Treaty: most of the General Headquarters staff (GHQ) accepted it, but the majority of the pre-Truce IRA rejected the Treaty. This sentiment was made known to Mulcahy in a letter from the anti-Treaty IRA on 11 January, requesting the holding of an Army Convention to discuss whether the IRA would revert to its independent position before it came under the control of the Dáil. The army would reaffirm its allegiance to the Republic and would remain the army of the Republic. An Executive would be appointed which would control the army, and they would draw up a constitution that would be submitted to another convention. If this was refused, an independent headquarters staff would be set up. This proposal was not supported by many on the anti-Treaty side, including Cathal Brugha. He strongly believed, as did Mulcahy, that the army should, and must, remain under the control of the Dáil.
On 14 January 1922, the Provisional Government was established, with Michael Collins as chairman. The Dáil had not yet been dissolved and continued to function as normal. It was decided that an election on the Treaty would be held within six months and in that time a new constitution would be drawn up. On 16 January, Dublin Castle was formally handed over by the British to the new government. It was quickly realised that the Provisional Government needed an army that would be loyal to it, as it could not depend on the support of the IRA. On 18 January, Richard Mulcahy and Michael Collins met with the anti-Treaty officers to assess the situation. While not dismissing the idea of a convention being held, Mulcahy made it very clear that the army was subject to the control of the Dáil, the elected government, and could not remove itself from such control. The anti-Treaty officers felt that they would have no say in the setting up of the new army and that the Republic would be betrayed. A compromise was reached with great difficulty. The proposed convention would be postponed until March, and in the meantime a committee, consisting of members from each side, would be set up to ensure that GHQ would not undermine or subvert the Republic.
This suggestion was not satisfactory to the majority of the Republican officers, who wanted to set up a headquarters that would be independent of GHQ. However, Liam Lynch, O/C 1st Southern Division, the largest and strongest division of all, was reluctant at this time for an independent headquarters to be established as it could lead to conflict, and after much deliberation Mulcahy’s offer was accepted. Even though the majority followed Lynch, Ernie O’Malley, O/C 2nd Southern Division, broke away from the control of GHQ.
It seemed as though an all-out split was inevitable, but it was still believed at this time that civil war could be avoided. Men such as Cathal Brugha and Liam Lynch, seen as the ex-tremists on the Republican side by many in subsequent years, did everything they could to prevent civil war from breaking out. On the pro-Treaty side were Michael Collins and Richard Mulcahy, who also sought a way to avoid a war that could damage the country for generations. By delaying the conven-tion, Mulcahy hoped that the Free State Constitution would be drawn up and then, and only then, when the constitution was put before everyone, would the army decide on what action
to take.
On 31 January 1922, Beggars Bush Barracks was taken over by members of the ‘Dublin Guard’, in total fewer than fifty men, under the command of Brigadier-General Paddy O’Daly. Beggars Bush was to be the headquarters of what soon became the pro-Treaty National Army. After this, other barracks were handed over by the British to the IRA, regardless of the men’s loyalty to the Treaty. Dublin was the exception; no barracks in the Dublin area were handed over to the anti-Treaty IRA. The Provisional Government was now in a precarious position and its army numerically weak. More importantly, it was even weaker in terms of experienced men as most of the pre-Truce IRA were anti-Treaty. However, little was done by the anti-Treaty IRA to seize the initiative at this point. This reluctance to act would cost the Republicans dearly later.
By mid-February, with the British evacuation well under way, recruitment for the new National Army began. There were many problems with organisation, and even with the supply of uniforms and arms, but a new army slowly began to emerge.
At the end of February, tension between the two sides of the army increased when events in Limerick threatened to lead to conflict. Limerick was a key position for both the Republicans and the pro-Treaty forces, and both wanted to take over the barracks being evacuated. After much discussion, it was eventually agreed that the Republicans would remain in two barracks, while Limerick Corporation would hold the police barracks. The pro-Treaty forces would have to leave. This compromise did not reflect well on the Provisional Government and Arthur Griffith was most vocal in his opposition to it. He believed that civil war was unavoidable, and the sooner the government acted, the sooner the war would be over.
On 15 March, as a result of the Limerick crisis, the proposed Army Convention was prohibited by the government, which stated that any officer who attended the convention would be suspended from the army. The anti-Treaty IRA disregarded the ban and it was decided that the convention would be held on 26 March.
In the meantime the anti-Treaty IRA decided that a new General Headquarters staff should be established, and Liam Lynch was elected chief-of-staff. Liam Mellows was elected quartermaster general; Rory O’Connor, director of engineering; Seamus O’Donovan, director of chemicals; Seán Russell, director of munitions; Ernie O’Malley, director of organisation; and Joe Griffin, director of intelligence. These appointments were temporary until the convention could be held with an election to appoint permanent positions. In the meantime, they set up a temporary headquarters in the Gaelic League Hall at 44 Parnell Square.
On 26 March, the proclaimed convention was held in the Mansion House, Dublin. More than 200 delegates, representing fifty-two out of the seventy-three IRA brigades, attended. The outcome of the convention was that:
The Delegates reaffirmed their allegiance to the Republic, denounced the Treaty, and elected an Executive of 16 in whom they vested supreme control of the army. The Executive repudiated the authority of the Minister for Defence [Mulcahy], and the Chief of Staff [Eoin O’Duffy] and most significantly, repudiated the authority of Dáil Éireann.
It was also proposed that a new Army Constitution be drawn up by the Executive (of which Liam Lynch was elected chief-of-staff), and that the Belfast Boycott be reintroduced. It was also decided that a second Army Convention would be held to draft the constitution and elect a permanent Executive.
Lynch and his men set up headquarters in Barry’s Hotel, in Gardiner’s Row. Annie Farrington, who had only purchased the hotel a few weeks before the convention, remembers the men who stayed there:
We had a dreadful crowd of guests for that occasion, a lot of them from Galway and the West. There was terrific excitement. There was great diversity of views and they were arguing it out. They never came to blows … The discussions were very heated but I had no time to listen to them as we were so busy trying to keep the meals and the beds going and we did not yet know our way about too well.
Of the men who stayed in the hotel, she states:
Among the visitors I especially remember Liam Lynch, Moss Twomey, Dick [Richard] Barrett and Joe McKelvey from Belfast … Liam Lynch was a marvellous character and the other lads used to warn us not to say anything flippant before him, as he was very religious and they looked upon him as a saint … Barrett was a very nice boy too and had a good sense of humour. He was a delicate sort of lad … They were lovely people to have in the house, they were so well-behaved.
Meanwhile, on 28 March, a statement issued by the Executive demanded that recruitment to both the National Army and the newly formed Civic Guard should cease.
The second Army Convention was held on 9 April at the Mansion House. The new Republican Constitution was ratified: the army would retain the title of the Irish Republican Army and would continue to function as had the pre-Truce IRA; that is, it would be on a volunteer basis. Its aims were to uphold the independence of the Republic, to protect the rights of its citizens and to serve an established Republican government that was wholly loyal to the Republic and its people.
It was decided that this army would be controlled by an Executive of sixteen, who would appoint an Army Council of seven members and the chief-of-staff of the army. A headquarters staff was also elected. Since the anti-Treaty IRA were now cut off from financial assistance from the Provisional Government, it was decided that banks all over the country were to be raided to finance them: ‘receipts in the names of the officers in charge of raids were to be given for all monies received’.
A motion was put forward that the forthcoming election be proclaimed. This was opposed by many of the Republicans, including Cathal Brugha, Tom Hales, Liam Lynch, Florrie O’Donoghue and Seán O’Hegarty. The latter four were members of the Executive; all five believed that it was the right of the people to at least have the chance to decide whether they accepted or rejected the Treaty, and as they had been elected by the people, they had to honour that right. This motion was defeated, but divisions in the anti-Treaty side were beginning to show.
On 13 April, Liam Mellows issued an ultimatum to the Dáil that the army should reunite:
He demanded that the existing Republic be maintained under a Republican Dáil government, that the IRA be controlled by an independent executive, that the IRA be financed by the Dáil, that the policing of the country be carried out by the IRA and the civic guard be disbanded, and that no elections take place on the Treaty while the threat of war with England exists.

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