Celtic Dawn: A Portrait of the Irish Literary Renaissance by Ulick O’Connor (1984)

We will show that Ireland is not the home of buffoonery and easy sentiment, as it has been represented, but the home of ancient idealism.
(Prospectus for the Irish Literary Theatre drafted by Lady Gregory, 1897; page 188)

This is a much more substantial work than O’Connor’s 1975 history of the Easter Rising. That was a slender pocket-sized 180 pages, this is a bigger format 416-page book complete with hefty index, 17-page bibliography and all. But like the earlier book, it’s still very much a personal account, and based on biography and anecdote rather than more scholarly history.

O’Connor (1928 to 2019) wrote a lot but he was neither a professional historian nor literary critic. He was more an erudite and impassioned amateur. And so this isn’t a scholarly or historically profound account, more an attempt, in his own words, ‘to convey the energy and elation of an era on Europe’s last island, perhaps the last in a series of renaissances which flourished in different countries since the Italian one in the fourteenth century’.

As with the earlier book, O’Connor is not shy about describing his own connections with the various settings and people involved, which makes for sweet anecdotes which, however, tend to bring out its rather home-made feel.

I was led to believe it’s a group biography of the key figures of the Celtic renaissance but, as you can see from my summary (below), it’s more like an interlocking series of biographies of all the Irish writers of the time, plus a fair few political figures.

One by one O’Connor introduces them to us and gives pen portraits. (I double checked I was using this phrase correctly. A pen portrait is ‘a brief, vivid and written description of a person, providing a “snapshot” of their character, lifestyle, and key traits, rather than just objective data’, which seems accurate enough.)

First of all we’re introduced to the key figures in chronological order and then, as they begin to work together, write for each other’s magazines or theatres, introduce each other to new ideas etc, the stories overlap and intertwine to build up a mosaic portrait of a major literary movement. At key moments when the central players, Griffiths, Yeats, Lady Gregory, AE, Edward Martyn, see their vision for a mature national Irish literature come to fruition, it can be very moving. And the figure of George Moore, the mocking dandy novelist, weaves in and out of the story like Puck, helping, mocking and memoiring.

The key players are:

Standish O’Grady (1846 to 1928)

Son of a Church of Ireland minister, O’Grady retained his aristocratic Unionist beliefs till the end of his life, but he played a pivotal role in the Celtic Renaissance by researching, writing, publishing and publicising the ancient legends of Ireland. His academic works – ‘History of Ireland: Heroic Period’ (1878–81) and ‘Early Bardic Literature of Ireland’ (1879) – didn’t sell so he realised he needed to dramatise them and romanticise Irish legends in a series of historical novels including ‘Finn and his Companions’ (1891), ‘The Coming of Cuculain’ (1894), ‘The Chain of Gold’ (1895), ‘Ulrick the Ready’ (1896) and ‘The Flight of the Eagle’ (1897). His insistence that the ancient Irish legends ranked with the tales of Homer inspired Yeats and others, leading to the title ‘Father of the Celtic Revival’. A lot later Yeats wrote: ‘whatever is Irish in me he kindled to life’ (p.25).

Douglas Hyde (1860 to 1949)

Son of a Church of Ireland rector, Hyde was home schooled among gillies and labourers, where he heard Gaelic spoken and started to study it. He began transcribing folk songs and discovered the people of Connacht remembered courtly songs and poems, which he translated and published. It was his poems published between 1890 and 1894 that inspired Yeats and Lady Gregory to realise the folk culture could be the basis for a national revival.

Around 1880 Hyde joined the Society for the Preservation of the Irish Language. Between 1879 and 1884 he published more than a hundred pieces of Irish verse under the pen name An Craoibhín Aoibhinn.

In 1886 Hyde met and became close friends with W.B. Yeats (then 21). They often met and discussed each other’s poetry.

In 1892 Hyde helped establish the Gaelic Journal, and wrote a manifesto called ‘The necessity for de-anglicising the Irish nation’ arguing that Ireland should follow its own traditions in language, literature, and dress. O’Connor sees it as a pivotal moment (p.165) because it led to…

In 1893 he helped found Conradh na Gaeilge (the Gaelic League) to encourage the preservation of Irish culture, music, dance and language. Ten years later there were 600 branches with a membership of 50,000. The next generation of Irish republicans (including Pádraig Pearse, Éamon de Valera, Michael Collins) became politicised through their involvement in Conradh na Gaeilge.

In the same year he published ‘Love Songs of Connacht’. The book had Gaelic poems on one page and prose and verse translations on the other. O’Connor thinks it ‘set the style of the literary renaissance’ (p.170).

Charles Stewart Parnell (1846 to 1891)

1875: Charles Stewart Parnell elected MP for Meath. O’Connor thinks the crucial fact of his life was that his other was American, from a family of heroes who fought against the British. By 1880 Parnell had succeeded Isaac Butt as leader of the Irish Party. In 1888 he was vindicated by an enquiry into his role in the Phoenix Park Murders (which Skin-the-Goat in James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’ was meant to be the getaway driver for). Here and in his Easter Rising book, O’Connor thinks Parnell’s achievement was to bring together land reformers, constitutionalists and physical force advocates into one party to win the electoral success which gave them 70 or so seats in the London House of Commons and so made them the decisive force in British politics during the 1880s.

Parnell generated an energy which fuelled the elation unleashed in the national being.

Parnell had been having an affair with Katherine ‘Kitty’ O’Shea, a married woman, lived with her and fathered two children by her, when her husband, Captain O’Shea, brought a divorce suit against her, citing Parnell as co-respondent. The case came to court in November 1890 causing a scandal. The Catholic hierarchy turned against him, Gladstone was forced to criticise him. His closest associates in his own party deserted him to form the Irish National federation. The alliance of nationalist forces he had carefully assembled fragmented, and Irish nationalism was set back by a generation.

The following year he died of tuberculosis in Hove, aged just 45. His body was brought back to Dublin and given the biggest funeral procession ever seen. Yeats wrote several poems about it. So did the 9-year-old James Joyce, who went on to dramatise the bitterness surrounding his fall in the famous Christmas dinner scene in ‘A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man’.

O’Connor thinks Parnell united the Anglo-Irish and the Gaelic Irish into the new identity of the nationalist Irish. (O’Connor nowhere really tackles the more obvious divide between Protestant and Catholic.)

Yeats believed part of the inspiration for the Irish Literary Renaissance was that the people’s creative energies were turned away from politics by Parnell’s fall and sought alternative outlets: folk stories, pagan religion, poetry and drama.

Lady Gregory (1852 to 1932)

Isabelle Augusta Persse, Lady Gregory was the 14th of 18 children! From a Protestant low church background but had a Catholic nanny who told her rebel stories. Met and married Sir William Gregory, recently retired as governor of Ceylon, 62 to her 28. Engaged in political campaigns. Affair with Wilfrid Blunt, the explorer, adventurer, poet and anti-imperialist. Jailed for chairing an anti-eviction meeting in Galway. Husband Sir William died in 1892 aged 74, leaving Augusta aged 40, mistress of Coole Park. She needed income so set about writing, and turning the Park into a venue for Irish nationalist writers. Her momentous meeting with 31 year-old Years was in 1896.

Agreed to create an Irish Literary Theatre for him, to be funded by Edward Martyn.

Studied Gaelic and collected folktales in west of Ireland, heading towards ‘Visions and Beliefs in the West of Ireland’, published in 1920 with notes and two essays by W.B. Yeats.

Memorably wrote: ‘I defy anyone to study Irish history without getting a dislike and distrust of England’ (p.201).

By the later 1890s Coole Park was recognised as a meeting place for writers, with Yeats often there, and AE, Douglas Hyde, Martin. George Bernard Shaw visited and John Masefield. When she heard Irish literature being condemned by Trinity College academics it inspired her to devote two years to retelling the stories from O’Grady’s History of Ireland but in her own style which she had developed over years of translating. The result was ‘Cuchulainn of Muirthemne: The Story Of The Men of the Red Branch Of Ulster arranged and put into English by Lady Gregory, with a preface by W. B. Yeats’, published in 1902. The book is a centrepiece of the literary renaissance. It was well reviewed, and Yeats later used stories in it as the basis for no fewer than five plays, and Synge based his last play, Deirdre, on it.

George Moore (1852 to 1933)

Irish novelist, short-story writer, poet, art critic, memoirist and dramatist. Moore came from a landed family of Catholics who lived at Moore Hall in Carra, County Mayo. The estate had 12,000 acres and his father had not only a stables but a full scale racecourse built on the model of Aintree racecourse in Liverpool.

Moore’s father wanted him to go into the Army but young George wanted to be a painter and so went to Paris in 1873 to study art. There, he befriended many of the leading French artists such as Manet (who painted his portrait) and Degas, and writers such as Villiers de l’Isle-Adam and Mallarmé. Failing as a painter he had a go at poetry but was bad at that, too. At which point he commenced writing prose fiction which turned out to be his metier. He wrote in the naturalist style pioneered by Émile Zola. According to Richard Ellmann, his writings influenced the early James Joyce.

In 1880 he heard his estate was in trouble and so returned. The 1879 harvest had been as bad as the potato famine years and tenants were refusing to pay rents. Moore toured the estate and was shocked at their abject poverty. Having sorted out new, lower rents in order to maintain the estate, he moved to London and started writing at a prodigious rate:

  • A Modern Lover, 1883
  • A Mummer’s Wife, 1885 – Kate Ede, bored housewife in the Potteries, runs away to join a troupe of travelling actors
  • A Drama in Muslin, 1886 – satire on the annual season at Dublin Castle
  • A Mere Accident, 1887
  • Parnell and His Island, 1887 – factual often scathing essays and portraits
  • Confessions of a Young Man, 1888
  • Modern Painting, 1893 – factual book introducing the French Impressionists
  • Esther Waters, 1894 – portrait of a serving girl
  • Celibates, 1895 – three characters explore love, sex and social conventions
  • Evelyn Innes, 1898

He had a love-hate relationship with his country, writing in the factual book ‘Parnell and His People‘ that Ireland was ‘a primitive country and barbarous people’, and:

Ireland is a bog, and the aborigines are a degenerate race — short, squat little men — with low foreheads and wide jaws.

Fifteen years later he would write about the British Empire and its administrators in much the same terms. O’Connor quotes Martyn saying Moore observed himself, his actions and beliefs with the detached attitude of a scientist.

Edward Martyn (1859 to 1923)

Another landlord of a large estate and urban property except that Martyn’s family was Catholic. He was cousin and boyhood friend with George Moore: George the sensualist and Edward the ascetic. They visited Bayreuth together.

Tulira Castle Martyn was eccentric. He comprehensively renovated the family property, the Gothic Tulira Castle, but chose to live in a spartan bedroom. He was a connoisseur of church music. Tulira was and is only 4 or so miles from Coole Park, home of Lady Gregory.

Music He was a fine musician in his own right, giving memorable performances for guests on an organ he had installed at Tullira.

Cultural sponsor Martyn used his wealth to benefit Irish culture. His activities and sponsorships included:

  • 1897: co-founder and endowing of the Feis Ceoil
  • 1903: foundation of the Palestrina Choir (the resident choir at the St Mary’s Pro-Cathedral, Dublin)
  • funding and direction of St. Brendan’s Cathedral, Loughrea
  • president of Na hAisteoirí, the Irish-language drama group
  • sponsored and guided An Túr Gloine, Ireland’s first stained-glass workshop
  • sponsored the Irish Theatre

Martyn was reportedly pivotal in introducing William Butler Yeats and Lady Gregory to each other in 1896. The three founded the Irish Literary Theatre, for whom Martyn wrote his best and most popular plays ‘The Heather Field’ and ‘A Tale of a Town’. He covered the costs of the company’s first three seasons, which proved crucial to establishing the company and the future of the Abbey Theatre.

Irish republicanism He became involved with the political work of Maud Gonne and Arthur Griffith. He was a vocal opponent of the visit of Queen Victoria to Ireland in 1897 and of Edward VII in 1903, this time as chairman of the People’s Protection Committee.

He became close friends with Griffith and funded the publication of his tract ‘The Resurrection of Hungary in 1904’ which publicised Griffith’s abstentionist strategy i.e. non-cooperation with every aspect of the British administration.

From 1905 to 1908 he was the first president of Sinn Féin (the party only taking that name in the latter year). In 1908, he resigned from the party and politics in general to concentrate on writing and his other activities.

He was on close personal terms with Thomas MacDonagh, Joseph Mary Plunkett and Patrick Pearse and mourned their executions in the aftermath of the Easter Rising. A parish hall and church that he founded at Labane, near Tullira, were burned by the Black and Tans. In ‘A Terrible Beauty’ O’Connor quotes the letter Yeats wrote to the Times protesting this.

John Butler Yeats (1839 to 1922)

From an Anglo-Irish = Protestant family, he studied at Trinity College, briefly pursued the law before switching to painting. He became a prolific portrait painter but was not a good businessman, so he and his family were always hard up and regularly moved. ‘In a material sense he had been a hopeless parent’ (p.110).

In 1863 he married Susan Pollexfen (1841 to 1900) daughter of a Sligo merchant and shipowner. She was dismayed when he abandoned the law. They had six children: three sons and three daughters, the oldest son being the Nobel Prize winning poet and dramatist William Butler Yeats. The two daughters most mentioned are Lily and Elizabeth, known as Lolly. Apparently, Susan went slowly mad.

Surprisingly, in 1907 at the age of 68, he travelled to New York aboard the RMS Campania with his daughter Lily and never returned to Ireland, dying in a boarding house in New York.

William Butler (W.B.) Yeats

J.B. was an atheist materialist, a follower of Comte and Darwin. His son, Willie, reacted against this into his Celtic Dawn love of fairies and spiritualism, describing himself as ‘a voice of the revolt of the soul against the intellect’ (p.150). In reaction against his Victorian materialist father, from his teenage years onwards Yeats subscribed to every spiritualist fad available, setting up the Hermetic Society with a friend, meeting Madame Blavatsky and getting into Theosophy, studying ancient Indian texts etc.

In the 1880s father John moved the family to London, to Bedford Park, introducing young Willie to Oscar Wilde among others. One day in June 1889, Maud Gonne turned up on their doorstep. She was already a legend and said to be the most beautiful women in Europe.

Yeats joined the Order of the Golden Dawn led by Mcgregor Mathers. He took to Rosicrucianism as an ideal synthesis of Christianity and paganism. In 1889 he had published his first book of poems, ‘The Wanderings of Oisin and other poems’, supported by the Fenian John O’Leary.

In 1890 Yeats along with Welsh poet Ernest Rhys founded The Rhymers’ Club which met at the London pub ‘Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese’ in Fleet Street.

Later Yeats and others glamorised members of the club as the ‘doomed generation’ because so many died of poverty, alcoholism or disease. Hmm. This is a typical example of literary types’ self-mythologisation. Compare the peace and plenty they enjoyed with the experience of the generation who reached manhood as the First World War broke out; who were the real doomed generation?

The most notable of the Rhymesters was Arthur Symons who wrote an excellent book ‘The Symbolist Movement in Literature’; read to Yeats from French and Latin poetry; and gave Yeats introductions to key literary figures in Paris (Verlaine, d’Adam) when he went to visit the French capital.

1894 production of his first play, ‘The Land of Heart’s Desire’ in London. In it a young woman about to be married is lured into the otherworld by a fairy. George Moore attended and was put off Yeats by his posing in a big black cloak and walking up and down the back of the dress circle wearing a ridiculous sombrero. He had a pathological dislike of Ibsen and issue-led theatre, thus profoundly disliked Shaw’s plays.

Hard up, in autumn 1894 Yeats went to stay out in Sligo with his uncle George Pollexfen. Although a successful merchant, George was also into mysticism and a member of the Hermetic Dawn. He was single, living alone apart from a serving girl he was convinced had second sight.

In 1896 Yeats, aged 30, moved to rented rooms at 18 Woburn Buildings in London where he would live for the next 15 years.

In August the same year, Edward Martyn invited Yeats and Arthur Symons to visit him at Tulira. The visitors asked if they could take a boat to the Isles of Aran, the most remote and unspoiled part of Ireland, which they did for five days. During the visit Lady Gregory invited them to nearby Coole Park. This was the decisive visit which began their collaboration. Amusingly, Symons witnessed their conversation and instantly realised that she would seduce Yeats away from lyric poetry. He ever afterwards referred to her as ‘the witch’ (p.182).

In 1897 Yeats went for another stay with Martyn. While Martyn was elsewhere Yeats was left with Lady Gregory, lamenting that there was nowhere for him to get his plays produced in a Dublin dominated by plays and entertainments imported from England. Within an hour she had mapped out a scheme to set up an Irish national theatre. She would call on her connections via her dead husband with establishment figures and ask them all to cough up £25 for three years to fund the thing. When Martyn rejoined them and heard the plan, he immediately signed up.

In 1898 Yeats, exhausted by his unrequited love for Gonne, came back to Coole. Lady Gregory let him rest in bed, created a daily timetable, had his food sent up, let him walk through the grounds and round the lake where he got to know the wild swans. For the next 20 years she was to be his rock and support until he married in 1917, and she had a hand in arranging that.

George Russell (A.E.) (1867 to 1935)

Met Yeats at art school. The Russell and Yeats families lived near each other. Professional seer of visions which he depicted in his drawings, sacred mountains, druids, the Hindu and Irish gods were related. He did a painting of a divine being and, wondering what to call it, heard the word ‘aeon’ being whispered to him, a few weeks later opening a book about the Gnostics and discovering ‘aeon’ was the name they gave to the first order of beings created by the Divine Mind. From that moment till his dying day he signed his works AE and the brand stuck. He used to go to the esplanade at Bray and hold forth to passersby about the glories of the ancient religion of mankind. Standish O’Grady heard him and was impressed.

In the late 1880s he gave up painting and got a job as a draper’s assistant during the day, so as to be free to practice mystical mind exercises at night.

Despite all this he had a practical side: at Yeats’s suggestion, Horace Plunkett appointed Russell assistant secretary of the Irish Agricultural Organisation Society (IAOS), an agricultural co-operative society Plunkett founded in 1894. He was responsible for developing the credit societies and establishing Co-operative Banks in the south and west of the country.

From 1905 to 1923 he was editor of the influential Irish Homestead, the journal of the IAOS.

O’Connor quotes a good thing A.E. said to a Catholic friend who was twitting him about his mystical beliefs: ‘Like all Irish Catholics you are an atheist at heart’ (quoted page 157).

Sir William Wilde (1815 to 1876)

From a Protestant family, Wilde was an ophthalmologic surgeon and the author of significant works on medicine, archaeology and folklore, particularly concerning his native Ireland. Also, the father of Oscar Wilde.

Wilde was a founder member of the Irish nationalist Home Government Association, established by his Trinity College Dublin colleague Isaac Butt as the precursor to the Irish Parliamentary Party.

In 1851 Wilde married the poet Jane Francesca Agnes Elgee, who wrote and published under the name of Speranza. The couple had two sons, William (Willie) and Oscar, and a daughter, Isola Francesca, who died in childhood.

He was knighted in 1864, mostly for his help conducting a census in Ireland.

Wilde was promiscuous (‘Sir William had a name as a lecher’, p.101). He fathered three children by two women before he married Jane. In 1864 his reputation was damaged by the Travers libel trial. There’s a good summary in the Irish Times:

Wilde is important for O’Connor because he a) spoke Irish like a native and b) collected folklore from his estate in the west of Ireland.

Jane Francesca Agnes Elgee Wilde (Speranza) (1821 to 1896)

From a prosperous Protestant family in Dublin. The plaque on the grave of her husband describes her as ‘Speranza of The Nation, writer, translator, poet and nationalist, author of works on Irish folklore, early advocate of equality for women, and founder of a leading literary salon’.

Speranza As a young woman in the 1840s, Elgee wrote for the Young Ireland movement, publishing patriotic ballads in The Nation under the pseudonym of Speranza, calling for Irish independence and anti-British. Charles Gavan Duffy was the editor when ‘Speranza’ wrote commentary calling for armed revolution in Ireland as a result of which the authorities at Dublin Castle shut down the paper and brought Charles Duffy to court but he refused to name the person who had written the offending article.

Marriage In 1851 Elgee married the successful society doctor and ophthalmologist, William Wilde, thus becoming Jane Wilde. When he was knighted in 1864, she became Lady Wilde.

Folklore When Wilde died in 1876, the family discovered that he was virtually bankrupt. Lady Wilde joined her sons in London in 1879, living with Willie in poverty, supplementing their meagre income by writing for fashionable magazines. She wrote several books based on the research of her late husband into Irish folklore, notably ‘Ancient legends, mystic charms, and superstitions of Ireland’ (1887). O’Connor thinks it ‘contains some of the most beautiful folk tales in existence’ (p.100), although he tells us that the expert, Douglas Hyde, was sceptical about them, given that Jane didn’t actually speak Gaelic. Yeats on the other hand thought they were so good he didn’t care if Lady Jane had embellished them or not (p.115). There’s an obvious study to be done comparing Jane’s folk stories and her son Oscar’s fairy stories…

Feminist Jane was an early advocate of women’s rights, and campaigned for better education for women. She invited the suffragist Millicent Fawcett to her home to speak on female liberty. She praised the passing of the Married Women’s Property Act of 1882, which prevented a woman from having to enter marriage ‘as a bond slave, disenfranchised of all rights over her fortune’.

Oscar Wilde (1854 to 1900)

Yeats’s father moved the family to London and introduced young Willie to Oscar, who he knew through his parents. Wilde was ten years older than Willie and tried to help the young poet. Willie was impressed by Oscar’s attempt to make every aspect of his life beautiful but he deprecated the older man’s sloth. O’Connor points out that when Oscar toured the USA for almost the whole of 1882, he was feted among Irish audiences as much for being the son of the nationalist Speranza as for being a London aesthete. George Bernard Shaw, 2 years older than Oscar, thought him ‘a very Irish Irishman’.

John O’Leary (1830 to 1907)

An Irish separatist and a leading Fenian. He studied both law and medicine but did not take a degree. For his involvement in the Irish Republican Brotherhood, he was imprisoned for five years in England. He spent time in Paris among other political exiles and developed a strong sense of the importance of having a national culture in order to promote independence. He’s important to this narrative because he got to see W.B. Yeats debate and orate and came to believe he was the national poet Ireland was waiting for.

O’Leary was on the Supreme Council of the Irish Republican Brotherhood and inducted Yeats into it. Yeats was to remain involved for the rest of his life. The IRB would regard Yeats as ‘their man’ in the literary movement. Later Yeats would say ‘to him I owe everything I set my hand to’. O’Leary arranged for the publication of Yeats’s first volume, and introduced him to folklorists who supplied the material for his books ‘

Maud Gonne MacBride (1866 to 1953)

Born of an English mother and father in the army, brought up in the barracks, lived with the family in Austria and the south of France, attended the 1886 season at Dublin Castle, attended balls and was presented to the Prince of Wales. But Maud rebelled against her upbringing to become a firebrand Irish nationalist and suffragette.

In 1889 she was introduced to W.B. Yeats who was driven mad with love for her, but she refused to become his lover a) because she was already having an affair with a Frenchman Lucien Millevoye, later b) because she later fell in love with and married (in 1903) the nationalist activist John MacBride (one of the leaders of the Easter Rising, executed by the British in 1916).

William Morris (1834 to 1896)

English textile designer, poet, artist, writer, and socialist activist associated with the British Arts and Crafts movement. In the late 1880s and 90s he was for a while an idol of Yeats’s (‘one of the few men he ever really worshipped’, p.138), who visited him at Kelmscott House and attended meetings of his Socialist League. When Yeats’s collection of essays, ‘the Celtic Twilight’ was published in 1893, the Morris group hailed it as the Irish equivalent of their own pre-Raphaelite movement. What they had in common was a rejection of Victorian pragmatism, mercantilism and science in favour of romantic worlds of faerie. But O’Connor suggests the difference was that the pre-Raphaelites were nostalgic for a vanished English past whereas Yeats was trying to instil the folk culture of Ireland in the here and now.

Eventually they split after Yeats sat through a socialist meeting consisting of attacks on religion before getting to his feet and insisting that only through religion and imagination could the revolution come, before being told to desist and sit down. He never attended another meeting.

George Bernard Shaw (1856 to 1950)

Of Protestant Anglo-Irish descent, Bernard Shaw was a playwright, critic, polemicist and political activist. His father was an alcoholic corn merchant, but his mother, Lucinda, was a noted opera singer, she sang at the Castle and was congratulated by the Lord Lieutenant. Shaw grew up in a household saturated with classical music which is why he was able to become a music critic when he moved to London in 1876. This was encouraged by the mentorship of George Lee who formed a sort of menage with the Shaw household and organised classical concerts. He was also a Catholic who introduced young George to Irish nationalism.

He wrote more than sixty plays, including major works such as Man and Superman (1902), Pygmalion (1913) and Saint Joan (1923). He worshipped Ibsen for confronting the middle classes with truths they’d prefer to ignore.

His first success was Arms and The Man, first staged in 1894. It was funded by Shaw’s lover, Florence Farr and staged alongside Yeats’s first play ‘The Land of Heart’s Desire’. Wilde wrote to congratulate Shaw.

John Millington Synge (1871 to 1909)

Another protestant, from a wealthy Anglo-Irish background, Synge went to Paris to study music. Realising he was not going to become a composer, he met Yeats on a visit to the capital, who advised him to go to the Aran Islands (which Yeats had visited only months before) to learn from the peasants. Two years later, in May 1898, Synge did just that. He made five visits over the next few years. By the end he was fluent in Gaelic. It helped that he was a fine violinist and picked up many airs and tunes which he played for the locals.

(In between these trips he spent five successive summers at Coole Park, collecting stories and folklore, perfecting his Irish, but living in Paris for most of the rest of each year.)

Then he set about writing the half a dozen plays that he is remembered as a key figure of the Irish Literary Revival.

Horace Plunkett (1854 to 1932)

Phenomenally posh, Plunkett was born in Sherborne, Gloucestershire, the third son of Admiral Edward Plunkett, the 16th Baron of Dunsany, of Dunsany Castle, Dunsany, near Dunshaughlin, County Meath, and the Honourable Anne Constance Dutton (daughter of John Dutton, 2nd Baron Sherborne).

Raised in County Meath, Plunkett was Anglo-Irish, raised in the Church of Ireland, educated at Eton College and University College, Oxford.

However, he appears in this story because he went to Wyoming in America to try and cure his incipient tuberculosis, spending ten years there and turning out to have a talent for running ranches at a profit. And when he returned to Ireland, in 1891, he ended up, through a series of initiatives, becoming a pioneer of agricultural cooperatives. In 1894 he set up the Irish Agricultural Organisation Society (IAOS).

Among many other appointments, he heard about Lady Gregory’s good works in Galway and went down to visit. Here he met Yeats who he initially thought an ass until he heard him address a meeting of local farmers and realised there was more to him than first appeared. Plunkett needed an organiser to tour the west of Ireland. Yeats recommended his friend AE who had developed practical experience working for his draper’s company. After years on the road, in 1901 he became editor of the co-op’s magazine, The Irish Homestead.

Irish Literary Theatre

The first plays staged in the theatre’s first season, in 1899, were:

  1. Yeats’s The Countess Cathleen, first published in 1892: is set during a famine in Ireland, where the noblewoman Countess Cathleen sells her soul to demons to save the starving peasantry.
  2. Edward Martyn’s The Heather Field: Carden Tyrrell, a visionary landowner, becomes obsessed with reclaiming a barren, heather-covered field and transforming it into fertile pasture, mortgaging his estate and ignoring his family’s needs, causing conflict with his practical wife, Grace; as the project fails, Tyrrell withdraws into madness.

O’Connor gives a humorous account of the runup to the productions, which Yeats got George Moore to help with, and he was a tyrant who enraged everyone, writing a letter to Martyn so offensive that the latter threatened to withdraw his play.

The famous thing is that the Catholic hierarchy and traditional nationalists got wind of the plot and decided it was a libel on Irish peasantry and Irish womanhood etc. A claque of students attended the first night to yell abuse and boo, but they were combated with cheers. George Moore had played a vital role in securing appropriate actors and directing them. He now sent London critics over to Dublin who loved it. So he had a big hand in launching the theatre.

A celebration dinner was held for all involved at the Shelborne Hotel. Moore described it in his Autobiography:

Yeats rose, and a beautiful commanding figure he seemed at the end of the table, pale and in profile, with long nervous hands and a voice resonant and clear as a silver trumpet. He drew himself up and spoke against Trinity College, saying that it had always taught the ideas of the stranger, and the songs of the stranger, and the literature of the stranger, and that was why Ireland had never listened and Trinity College had been a sterile influence. The influences that had moved Ireland deeply were the old influences that had come down from generation to generation, handed on by the story-tellers that collected in the evenings round the fire, creating for learned and unlearned a communion of heroes.

The second season was staged in 1900 at the Gaiety Theatre and featured two plays by Edward Martyn – Maeve, The Tale of a Town – and The Last of the Fianna by Alice Milligan. The mere fact that these were successfully staged at the 1,200 seat Gaiety and not the 500-seat Antient Common Rooms, showed how the theatre was becoming a commercial as well as cultural success.

Arthur Griffith (1871 to 1922)

Griffith was a key but complicated figure. He was an Irish writer, newspaper editor and politician who founded the political party Sinn Féin. He led the Irish delegation at the negotiations that produced the 1921 Anglo-Irish Treaty, and served as the president of Dáil Éireann from January 1922 until his death that August.

But back in the period O’Connor is covering Griffith is important because he articulated an entirely new strategy for achieving independence. Parnell thought he could do it in the English Parliament; physical force revolutionaries thought they could do it through targeted assassinations and taking on the British Army of occupation. Griffith suggested a third way which was for the Irish to retire entirely from British politics – the policy of ‘abstentionism’ – and instead set up their own administration entirely separate from the British: for the MPs elected in the (British defined) constituencies to not only not go to London, but to set up their own Parliament (the Dail), giving everything Irish Gaelic names, to create their own laws, their own budget, their own courts and system of justice, to create a parallel and independently Irish administration at all levels. Hence the name of his organisation, Sinn Fein which means ‘ourselves alone’.

This was a compelling new idea which caught everyone’s imagination (it’s even mentioned several times in James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’).

Yeats’s anti-Britishness

1898 – elected president of the committee to celebrate the centenary of the 1798 uprising.

1899 – October, second Boer War broke out and Yeats, Gonne and Martyn became members of the Transvaal Committee protesting Britain’s treatment of the Boers.

1900 – April, the same group plus others formed a committee to protest a planned visit of Queen Victoria to Dublin. (The old queen was 81). (Here as in his Easter rising book, O’Connor tells us that Maud Gonne’s future husband, John Macbride, was in South Africa leading a brigade of Boers against the British.)

O’Connor quotes a letter by Yeats to the Daily Express on 3 April 1900 which gives you a real feeling of his anti-British republicanism. Speaking of Victoria, he writes:

She is the official head and symbol of an empire that is robbing the South African republics of their liberty, as it robbed Ireland of hers. Whoever stands by the roadway cheering for Queen Victoria cheers for that empire, dishonours Ireland, and condones a crime. But whoever goes tomorrow night to the meeting of the people and protests within the law against the welcome of that Unionists and time-servers will have given this English Queen, honours Ireland and condemns a crime.

Moore moves back to Dublin

The Boer War prompted George Moore to revise his opinions of England and Ireland. He began to hate the former and romanticise the latter, forgetting all about his amusingly insulting opinions of 15 years earlier. Strikingly, he is quoted saying he has come to hate the English language and wants to flee the English country and English people (p.282).

He moved back to Dublin in 1901. He’s in this account a) because he was an important novelist in his own right but b) because of his close relationship with the founders of the Literary Theatre, which extended, as O’Connor shows, to a major rewrite of one of Edward Martyn’s plays, which infuriated his old friend. It must be said, his droll insouciance and wit make him one of the most attractive characters in the book. O’Connor devotes quite a few pages to just comic anecdotes from his own autobiography and other people’s reminiscences.

O’Connor gives a comic account of Moore and Yeats struggling to collaborate on a play based on the legend of Diarmuid and Grania, Moore’s attitude is priceless. He was then chosen to direct a production of Douglas Hyde’s play ‘The Twisting of the Rope’ but resigns after 3 weeks. Hyde himself played the lead role of Hanrahan the poet and turned out to be sprightly and antic onstage, completely the opposite of his sober, scholarly everyday persona. The two plays were performed in October 1901. Grania wasn’t a success whereas ‘The Twisting of the Rope’ was the first play to be performed in Irish and was joyously received by nationalists. The audience sang patriotic songs. The audience mobbed Yeats at the stage door. In the audience was John Millington Synge, who saw the language and imagery he had been collecting on the Aran Isles come to life onstage. Within a few months he’d written his first play and within a year the first of his five masterpieces.

Joyce

Joyce loathed these productions and wrote a savage indictment of their success titled ‘The Day of the Rabblement’. He thought Yeats and Co were catering to the low, debased tastes of the Irish people by sinking themselves deeper into the mire of illiterate peasant superstition, whereas Joyce wanted to join and become a star in the great European tradition. Which is why he had to leave Ireland altogether.

Joyce walked across Dublin one night to AE’s house and waited till the established writer returned at midnight. They talked till 4 in the morning. Easy-going AE was impressed and wrote to Lady Gregory warning him about this ‘spectre of fastidiousness’ (p.296). When Joyce left Ireland for Paris in 1904, Lady Gregory gave him money.

The Fays and the Abbey Theatre

The origins of the famous Abbey Theatre in the work of two brothers, William and Frank Fay. In the 1890s, William had worked with a touring company in Ireland, Scotland and Wales while Frank was heavily involved in amateur dramatics in Dublin. After William returned, the brothers began to stage productions in halls around the city. O’Connor gives his usual pen portrait and explains how Frank asked AE permission to use a play which he, AE, had written solely for literary interest, ‘Deirdre’. Discovering it wouldn’t fill a whole evening they approached Yeats for a short filler and he gave them ‘Cathleen Ni Houlihan’ and suggested Maud Gonne play the lead role. Amazingly, she agreed. The brothers hired the cramped St Theresa’s Hall on Clarendon Street for the production. Opening night was 2 April 1902. Deirdre was well received but the Yeats play is about the allegorical figure of Ireland depicted as a long-suffering old crone, who is transformed into a beautiful queen by the sacrifice of a young man. There were cheers throughout and, at the end, a standing ovation. Partisans like Arthur Griffith saw it as the start of a national revival. I’ll now quote from Wikipedia because the events surrounding the foundation of the Abbey Theatre are a bit convoluted and not fully explained by O’Connor:

Encouraged by the St Theresa’s Hall success, Yeats, Lady Gregory, Æ, Martyn, and John Millington Synge founded the Irish National Theatre Society in 1903 with funding from Annie Horniman. Horniman was a middle-class Englishwoman with previous experience in theatre production, having been involved in the presentation of George Bernard Shaw’s Arms and the Man in London in 1894. An acquaintance of Yeats from London circles, including the Order of the Golden Dawn, she came to Dublin in 1903 to act as Yeats’ unpaid secretary and to make costumes for a production of his play ‘The King’s Threshold’. They were joined by actors and playwrights from Fay’s company.

At first, they staged performances in the Molesworth Hall. When the Mechanics’ Theatre in Lower Abbey Street and an adjacent building in Marlborough Street became available after fire safety authorities closed it, Horniman and William Fay agreed to buy and refit the space to meet the society’s needs.

On 11 May 1904, the Society formally accepted Horniman’s offer of the use of the building. As Horniman did not usually reside in Ireland, the royal letters patent required were granted in the name of Lady Gregory, although paid for by Horniman. The founders appointed William Fay theatre manager, responsible for training the actors in the newly established repertory company. They commissioned Yeats’ brother Jack to paint portraits of all the leading figures in the society for the foyer, and hired Sarah Purser to design stained glass for the same space.

On 27 December 1904, the curtains went up on opening night. The bill consisted of three one-act plays, ‘On Baile’s Strand’ and ‘Cathleen Ní Houlihan’ by Yeats, and ‘Spreading the News’ by Lady Gregory. On the second night, ‘In the Shadow of the Glen’ by Synge replaced the second Yeats play. These two bills alternated over a five-night run.

In addition to providing funding, Horniman’s chief role with the Abbey over the coming years was to organise publicity and bookings for their touring productions in London and provincial England.

‘The Shadow of the Glen’ caused a furor. I have written a separate blog post about it.

Codas

Towards the end of the book, O’Connor deals increasingly briskly with his charges.

Joyce He portrays Joyce leaving for the continent, helped with cash from Lady Gregory, and even Yeats who met him at Euston station, bought him breakfast and helped him catch the boat train to Paris. In O’Connor’s portrait Joyce comes over as fiercely arrogant, angry, bitter and determined. In Paris he met Synge but the two didn’t get on at all. He’d only been there a few months when his father telegraphed him to return to Dublin because his mother was dying. It was then that occurred the famous occasion when Joyce refused to kneel and pray for his mother, letting her die distraught that her son was an atheist, leaving him gnawed with guilt which provides a central thread to ‘Ulysses’, where he grandly renames it ‘agenbite of inwit’. It was on 16 June 1904 that he had a second date with an uninhibited Galway girl who kissed him and touched his willy through his trousers, thus persuading the highly sexed Joyce that she was the girl for him, and indeed they spent the rest of their lives together, and she was the rock which enabled him to write his masterpieces.

Lady Gregory Having been midwife to numerous plays, Lady Gregory now started writing her own. Amazingly, she ended up writing about 100, and many were very popular. Her best works are probably ‘The Rising of the Moon’ and ‘The Workhouse Ward’. It was seeing plays like these on the Abbey Theatre’s first tour of America, which apparently inspired American playwright Eugene O’Neill to write his first plays. In the 1920s, when finances were tight, she persuaded the new Free State government to give the Abbey Theatre a stipend, making it the first state-sponsored theatre in the world.

Climax and aftermath

It turns out that those 1904 productions are the climax of O’Connor’s book. The precursor to the Abbey Theatre had been created and Yeats, Gregory, AE had seen their vision of a native Irish theatre based on native Irish legends and themes come true. From left-field came J.M. Synge whose Aran Island-inspired plays would expand and consolidate the genre.

So instead of continuing to take things forward at the slow incremental pace he’d used up till now, rather surprisingly O’Connor leaps forward to the first night of Sean O’Casey’s ‘The Plough and the Stars’ in 1926. After a vivid description of the protests and catcalling which forced Yeats to call in the police, again, O’Connor relaxes on the final pages of his book and turns into lists. The renaissance was underway and he lists the next generation of playwrights which came through along with a sudden interest in painting, which had until these last few pages only received passing mention in reference to John Yeats. Now there’s a sudden list of Irish painters who flourished in the 00s, 10s and 20s. The outstanding art collector Hugh Lane left his collection to the Dublin Art Gallery. In less than a page he skips over the East Rising and civil war to the creation of the Irish Free State, and then the last 3 or 4 pages concern the afterlives of his central characters.

Edward Martyn broke with the Abbey Theatre founders, founded his own rival theatre, died in 1924.

George Moore argued with everyone in the movement and, in 1912, left Ireland a second time, reverting to his initial contempt for his homeland. He died in 1933. He always felt James Joyce had plagiarised his ‘Confessions of a Young Man’ in his ‘A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man’, and stole his famous short story ‘The Dead’ from the end of his novel ‘Vain Fortune’. But the pair met in Paris in 1929 when Joyce was eager to conciliate the older man and they got on surprisingly well.

Lady Gregory stopped writing plays in the 1920s, negotiated a government subsidy for the Abbey Theatre in 1925. Her son Robert was killed serving in the air force in 1918. Coole Park had to be sold off, along with its wild swans and the tree she had her famous writers carve their names into. She died in 1932.

W.B. Yeats came to be recognised as one of the greatest poets of the age, receiving the Nobel Prize in 1924. He was made a senator in the new Free State. In 1928 he entered a late flowering period of creativity with ‘The Tower’. He died in the south of France in 1939.

Douglas Hyde was installed as president of Ireland in 1938. He had faded out of public life after refusing to let his Gaelic League get involved in politics. The decision to bring him out of retirement paid homage to his work as a young man in rescuing the Celtic language and its stories.

O’Connor ends with a charming story, of how the following year, when war broke out, coal became scarce, so Hyde opened the coal cellars of the Viceregal Lodge to the population of Dublin. Instead he had turf brought from the countryside so that the grand dinning, ball and state rooms of the palace, which had echoed to the social life of the conqueror for so many years, were now filled with the aromatic smoke betokening authentic Irish peasant life.

Firesides

O’Connor is a romantic, sometimes sentimental author. Peasants are noble. Aristocrats are noble. All his upper class characters are fine riders and excellent shots. He takes a heroic view of Irish patriots. One aspect of this is his fondness for ‘firesides’ as a symbol of authenticity, especially, of course, the firesides of the people and peasants.

[Henry Grattan]’s speech at the inauguration [of the 1782 parliament] would become a hymn of nationalism recited around the firesides of nationalist Ireland in the nineteenth century. (p.15)

Under the name of Speranza [Francesca Elgee] wrote patriotic ballads about the Fenians and English misrule, like ‘The Famine Year’ which was recited around firesides throughout the country. (p.100)

Soon [Synge] had mastered the Irish jigs and reels and slow airs, and he would sit at night near the firelight in the cottages and play his airs for the dancing boys and girls. (p.191)

This [lines from a Yeats poem] could be from the court of Aquitaine; or that its sentiment is a trifle extravagant, the address of a Cavalier. Least of all does one think of it as a poet’s address to his country in one of the traditional names which were used for Ireland in the seventeenth century, and that this was perfectly understood by the people when it was sung for them round their firesides or in the fields. (p.214)

[Of ‘In the Shadow of the Glen’] It was, after all, a daring theme for those days to depict a wife leaving a husband, however aged, for a tramp travelling the roads. The fact that it was based on an Irish folk tale told around the firesides of the west would not make it any more palatable when it would be acted out in front of urban audiences who would lack the Rabelaisian acceptance of farmyard life. (p.333)

The story of how Cuchulain inadvertently kills his own son whom he had had (unknown to him) by a Scottish princess, Aoife, was still told around the country firesides in the west. (p.352)

Documentary

There are many documentaries on the subject. This one is an easy-going complexity-free example, bolstered by extensive interviews with the eminent academic Fintan O’Toole. Most interesting for me was the section about Patrick Pearse’s objections to the movement which he said ought to be ‘strangled at birth’. He thought Yeats and Lady Gregory, Protestants both, were denying the Catholic faith of the peasants they depicted, and Ireland as a whole, in order to promote their own personal vision of a pagan Ireland, the Ireland of the myths and legends they collected and they promoted.

There was also a class aspect, because the revivalists’ plays focused on peasants or aristocrats, itself an ancient binary, with no space for the majority population of working and middle class. In this sense, their vision was utterly unrepresentative of Ireland’s realities. (Just one reason for James Joyce’s complete rejection of their vision and aesthetic, although the movement was, eventually, to be large enough for the working class dramas of Sean O’Casey.)


Credit

‘Celtic Dawn: A Portrait of the Irish Literary Renaissance’ by Ulick O’Connor was published by Hamish Hamilton in 1984.

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A Terrible Beauty is Born by Ulick O’Connor (1975)

I grew up in a free country which was decolonised seven years before my birth. The reflexes of colonialism linger on for a time after the rulers have departed.
(page 14)

‘I defy anyone to study Irish history without getting a dislike and distrust of England.’
(Lady Gregory)

This is, in the old and best sense of the word, an amateur book. It is a highly personal perspective on the series of very famous events in Irish history. Ulick O’Connor had a long and successful life as a sportsman, lawyer, writer, poet, playwright, historian and biographer, summarised in his obituary:

As a sportsman he certainly excelled. As a lawyer I’ve no idea of his status. As a writer, apparently his biographies of Oliver St John Gogarty and Brendan Behan are still important. But he was definitely not a professional historian and it shows. This slim 180-page account of the leadup to and aftermath of the 1916 Easter Rising in Dublin is anecdotal and empassioned rather than detached and scholarly. It’s a handy enough introduction to the events, although there must be many far more rigorous and scholarly accounts.

And it seems to skip or gloss over complex details. Every time I looked up an aspect of the leadup to the rising on Wikipedia, I found it to be more complex and byzantine than O’Connor’s account. This appears to be a simplified and romanticised account.

What makes it stand out is O’Connor’s flashes of real anger against British imperial rule in Ireland and, in the later stages, the number of participants and eye-witnesses who O’Connor seems to have met and interviewed for this book and so quotes verbatim.

Introduction

Setting the personal tone of the book, it opens with O’Connor visiting the Public Records Office at Dublin Castle to see the file on his great-grandfather. This was Matthew Harris who fought in the Irish risings of 1848 and 1867 and became one of three members of the Supreme Council of the Fenians, who, even though he went on to be elected as an MP to Westminster, was in later life followed everywhere by detectives. O’Connor discovers his file is huge and could be compared to the Czarist authorities’ files on Lenin. So O’Connor is using his great-grandfather as an example of the huge amount of time and energy the British colonial system spent keeping tabs on anyone who spoke against it.

But the anecdote is also typical of O’Connor’s romanticising tendency: he is quick to say of his forebears, or of any notable Irishman he’s writing about, that tales were told of him round fireplaces and ballads sung in pubs. The heroes of his story are constantly being turned into tales and ballads sung wherever patriots assemble.

His name had passed into tradition so that as I grew up I heard him talked about with reverence. (p.8)

And it’s typical of O’Connor’s approach in a third way, in that he underpins it, not with scholarly documentary information or research, but with an anecdote told him by an eminent person. In this case it’s the novelist Liam O’Flaherty, who tells O’Connor that he remembered his father recalling Harris’s fiery speeches. And in another anecdote, a visitor to the West of Ireland tells O’Connor that the peasants still remembered his great-grandfather. This is how the book proceeds: by anecdotes about heroes.

And a fourth way in which the introduction sets the tone and approach is when O’Connor broadens out his theme to explain how the Irish patriots’ struggle for independence went on to inspire like-minded revolutionaries in Egypt, India and many other colonies of the British Empire, a point he repeats a number of times in the rest of the book.

Back to great-grandfather Harris: O’Connor tells us that in 1880 he was persuaded to moderate his beliefs enough to stand for Parliament. He was persuaded to do this by Charles Stewart Parnell whose strategy was to unite the three elements in Irish political life: the physical forcers, the Land league and the Parliamentary Party. It was Parnell’s great achievement to do this and make his parliamentary party into the deciding force in British politics.

1. Rise and fall of Charles Stewart Parnell

O’Connor steps back to give us the deep background: he says it was the Flight of the Earls in 1607 after defeat in battle which handed Ireland over to British control. His great-great-grandfather was alive at the time of the 1798 rebellion. His great-grandfather lived through the potato famine when up to a million died of starvation due to the incompetence of the British administration, and some 2 million emigrated, mostly to America.

In the four years after the famine, 58,000 families amounting to 316,000 people were evicted from their homes for non-payment of rent, saw their houses destroyed and were left destitute, living in caves or wooden huts or dying by the roadside.

In 1886, leader of the Liberal Party and Prime Minister William Ewart Gladstone introduced the first Home Rule Bill with a horrified description of the abject poverty found throughout rural Ireland.

At the turn of the century the British Empire was at its height. O’Connor quotes Louis Fischer, the biographer of Gandhi, as saying that imperialism is a sort of perpetual insult to the colonised and governed.

Charles Stewart Parnell was a Protestant, a member of the ‘Protestant ascendency’ born into a wealthy Anglo-Irish Protestant landowning family in County Wicklow in 1846. He was leader of the Home Rule League from 1880 to 1882, and then of the Irish Parliamentary Party from 1882 to 1891, by which time his party held the balance of power in the House of Commons.

In a typically family anecdote, O’Connor remembers his grandmother telling him how, as a small girl, she used to greet Parnell when he came to stay with her father in the west of Ireland. ‘She treasured the table on which he wrote his speeches as if it were the relic of one of her favourite saints’ (p.16).

She also taught O’Connor that it was incorrect to refer to the married woman Parnell had a ten-year affair with as ‘Kitty’ O’Shea, it should always be Mrs O’Shea. It is typical of the book that we see the whole Parnell tragedy through the eyes of an O’Connor family member.

What happened was when it looked likely the Liberals under Gladstone were going to win the 1892 general election and pass his Home Rule bill, some Tory leaders persuaded Captain O’Shea (who knew about his wife’s long-standing affair with Parnell) to divorce her, citing Parnell as the third party. As soon as this happened Gladstone, leading a party whose core was nonconformist, was forced to repudiate Parnell and withdraw his support for the Irish Party till it replaced its leader. Parnell refused to stand down and the furore split his party with the majority of its MPs, and all his senior colleagues, abandoning him to form a new party.

The following, much more recent, account suggests the train of events had more to do with Captain O’Shea’s greed than with scheming Tories. In this as everywhere else you can feel O’Connor’s 1) tendency to simplify the story and 2) burning animus against English rule.

The party split and Parnell went into exile in… England, dying the next year, 1891, of pneumonia, aged just 45. His body was brought back to Dublin. A crowd of some 200,000 watched the procession to Glasnevin Cemetery. Many people say a meteor (or shooting star as O’Connor puts it with characteristic romance) fall from the sky.

O’Connor quotes James Joyce’s famous quip about the Parnell ‘betrayal’ although, characteristically, he slightly misquotes him. Here’s the Joyce quote from his 1912 essay ‘The Shade of Parnell’:

In his final desperate appeal to his countrymen, he begged them not to throw him as a sop to the English wolves howling around them. It redounds to their honour that they did not fail this appeal. They did not throw him to the English wolves; they tore him to pieces themselves.

Joyce’s essay was written 21 years after Parnell’s fall and indicates how long-lasting the sense of failure and loss was, as described in vivid fictional form in 1) his short story ‘Ivy Day in the Committee Room’ and 2) the famous Christmas dinner argument scene in ‘A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man’.

Rather than attempt a full historical perspective, O’Connor characteristically quotes the opinions of famous writers: Joyce, Dennis Ireland, W.B. Yeats, Sean O’Faolain, P.S. O’Hegarty, an old Sinn Fein writer who spoke to him. All the way through it’s these personal perspectives which O’Connor likes to give. And seeing as these writers or old-timers tend to romanticise and glamorise events, this contributes to the romanticising tendency of the whole book.

2. Celtic Revival

1884: foundation of the Gaelic Athletic Association: hurling, Gaelic football.

1893: Douglas Hyde, another son of the Protestant Ascendency, decided to set up the Gaelic League, an organisation to promote the Gaelic language, fast dying out in the cities but preserved among the peasantry. By 1906, over 3,000 branches.

An early convert was Lady Augusta Gregory, Anglo-Irish daughter of landed gentry (1852 to 1932). She was home schooled then married off to Sir William Henry Gregory, a widower with an estate at Coole Park, near Gort, in 1880. Sir William was 36 years older than her and had just retired from his position as Governor of Ceylon. He had a large house and estate at Coole Park which she, in the coming decades, turned into a major venue for nationalist writers. He also had a town house in London where she held literary soirées for leading figures of the time.

Throughout, O’Connor refers to the military element of the occupying power by the general term ‘the Garrison’.

Novelists George Moore and Edward Martyn were attracted to the Celtic Revival but it was the conversion of young William Butler Yeats which transformed things. Up till then he’d been writing fey pre-Raphaelite poetry under the influence of William Morris.

O’Connor fast forwards to the founding of the Abbey Theatre in 1904 and the renaissance of literary talent which constellated round it including J.M. Synge, James Stephens, George Russell A.E., Padraig Column, Katherine Tynan and more. O’Connor was to deal with the Celtic Revival separately in his 1984 group biography Celtic Dawn.

This all allows him to proceed by his favourite method which isn’t via documents or data, but by cherry-picking quotes from Famous Authors. On the upside, these are always chatty and anecdotal; on the downside, it’s the absence of any real historical context which gives the book its thin texture.

3. Portrait of turn-of-the-century Dublin

Parks, grand squares, the Season at the Castle, debutante balls. Population 400,000 with a small centre where it was easy to bump into people you knew (compare with London’s monstrous 6.5 million).

This leads him to Maud Gonne (1866 to 1953) ‘the most beautiful woman in Europe’ according to Wickham Stead, editor of the Times. Despite her claims she was of English descent on both sides but became a firebrand Irish revolutionary. Willie Yeats fell madly in love with her but she refused to become his lover.

In 1900, Gonne helped found Inghinidhe na hÉireann (Daughters of Ireland). Twenty-nine women attended the first meeting. They decided to ‘combat in every way English influence doing so much injury to the artistic taste and refinement of the Irish people’.

Lady Constance Gore-Booth (1868 to 1927) was an Irish revolutionary, nationalist, suffragist, and socialist, famous as the first woman elected to the UK Parliament (1918), though she did not take her seat. Born into Anglo-Irish aristocracy at Lissadell, she rejected her privileged background to fight for Irish independence, becoming a key figure in the 1916 Easter Rising. In 1900 she married Polish artist and playwright Casimir Dunin-Markievicz, and they styled themselves the Count and Countess = Constance Markievicz.

4. Arthur Griffith and Sinn Fein

Ireland was ruled by England from 1170. There was a short period of home rule from 1782 to 1800 which was put to an end by the 1800 Act of Union. Since 1800 nationalists had wanted to replace this foreign rule with home rule, some by constitutional means, some by violent uprising, as in 1848 and 1867.

In the early 1900s a journalist called Arthur Griffith came to prominence with a new strategy, passive resistance. In 1900 he founded the United Irishman which attracted top writers and became very influential.

Characteristically, O’Connor paints Griffith’s portrait by quoting other writers (Oliver St John Gogarty, James Joyce). Just as characteristically, he dwells on the way the short unprepossessing Griffith was madly in love with Gonne.

1903: Griffith starts publishing articles about how Hungary secured home rule within the Austro-Hungarian Empire under the Hungarian People’s Party led by Francis Deak. The next year he launched a political party to copy Deak’s strategy (the historical figure’s proper name appears to have been Ferenc Deák) – Sinn Fein, ‘Ourselves alone’.

Clause 14 of the Sinn Fein constitution: Non-recognition of the British Parliament. The plan was not just to abstain, but to set up a parallel Irish administration at all levels. However (in the book’s first mention of the Ulster problem) Griffith allowed for there to be a King of Ireland and a King of Britain.

Constance Markievicz joined Sinn Fein as did Maud Gonne.

Chapter 5. Roger Casement

Sir Roger Casement (1864 to 1916) worked for the British Foreign Office as a diplomat. He was honoured in 1905 for the Casement Report on the Congo Free State and knighted in 1911 for his investigations of human rights abuses in the rubber industry in Peru, sometimes credited as the ‘father of twentieth-century human rights investigations’.

Typically O’Connor conveys his importance by quoting writers – Joseph Conrad, who knew him in the Congo, and E.D. Morel who campaigned with Casement to end Belgium’s disgusting slave regime in the Belgian Congo (characteristically, the book incorrectly gives his initials as A.D.). See:

Resting in his native County Antrim, Casement heard about Griffith’s party and joined. He set out to learn Gaelic. He had seen imperialism at its most disgusting and had a shrewd feeling that Griffith’s strategy for freeing Ireland could work. He donated money to a school being run by a young Gaelic Leaguer called Eamon de Valera.

Chapter 6. The 1912 home rule bill

In 1910, though, the lead party was not Sinn Fein but the Irish Party led by Parnellite John Redmond. The Liberal Party returned to power in 1906 and, in order to pass its social legislation, needed the support of the Irish Party to pass its legislation neutering the House of Lords. In exchange its leader, Herbert Asquith, promised to sponsor another Irish Home Rule bill.

In March 1912, at a mass meeting in Dublin, Irish nationalists greeted the launch of an Irish Home Rule bill in Parliament but warned that if their hopes were dashed, Ireland would take arms.

 Chapter 7. Ulster

A quarter of the population of Ireland was Protestant, over a million living in the counties of Ulster. Two weeks after the Dublin nationalist meeting, a mass meeting was held in Ulster, with 100,000 men marching past Sir Edward Carson.

O’Connor analyses the Ulster Protestant as a typical colon in that his link to the imperial power gave him superiority. Even the poorest Protestant was, in a sense, superior to the richest Catholic. He compares them to the poor whites in the American South, persuaded of their racial superiority by their exploiters who thus kept the working class divided.

Carson had been Solicitor General in the Conservative government which fell in 1906 election. Next to him on the stand was Andrew Bonar Law, the Canadian-born new leader of the Conservative Party. In subsequent speeches Carson made it quite clear he was prepared to break the law and disobey officers of the Crown if home rule were passed.

In 1912 he and others set up the Solemn League and Covenant which was signed by hundreds of thousands (echoing the Covenants signed in Scotland during the civil wars).

Echoing Griffith, the Ulstermen set up their own provisional government. The Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) was set up under a British Army general. F.E. Smith was a leading figure, who later became Attorney General of Britain.

In Britain, a British League for Ulster was set up and 120 MPs and 100 Lords joined it.

It became obvious that these Ulster refuseniks were the key issue in the Irish Question. Carson and the rest were openly declaring treason. Warrants were made out for their arrest, in Dublin but not issued. Prime Minister Asquith hoped Ulster resistance would die down.

Chapter 8. The Irish Volunteers

Mirroring the foundation of the Ulster Volunteers, in the south the Irish Volunteers were founded. It was founded by professor of Irish history Eoin MacNeill. Characteristically, O’Connor’s grandfather knew him. His mother told stories of going with her parents and MacNeill to the Aran Isles for the summer to learn Gaelic and come back with Gaelic-speaking nannies.

It was following an article about the Ulster volunteers, that MacNeill was approached to spearhead its southern equivalent. A committee of 30 was set up, including men from Redmond’s party. Roger Casement (returned from Peru) was made secretary.

By January 1914 there were 10,000 volunteers, by September 180,000.

Chapter 9. The Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB)

Clann na Gael based in New York, run by old Feinian John Devoy. In 1907 he sent Thomas Clarke to Dublin to recruit for the IRB. Willie Yeats joined. And working class Catholic Sean O’Casey. They looked up to intellect and culture.

The (underground) IRB carefully infiltrated its members into the (aboveground) Irish Volunteers.

Chapter 10. The Citizen Army

In chapter 3 O’Connor gave us a very brief sense of upper class life in Dublin. This chapter emphasises the poverty. Dublin had the highest death rate of any city in Europe. The Irish Times compared living conditions of the poor to Dante’s Inferno.

August to Christmas 1913 Dublin saw a massive general strike, led by Jim Larkin (orator and journalist) and James Connolly (brilliant analyst who applied Marxist theory to Ireland, founder of the Irish Socialist Republican Party). He left for the States, then returned to become General Secretary of Larkin’s Transport Union.

The outcome of the long bitter violent general strike wasn’t concessions from the employers, but the creation of a Citizen Army which proceeded to arm itself. It came into being in November 1913 with a constitution drawn up by Sean O’Casey, who became its secretary and later wrote its history.

The Army Commander was Captain Jack White who had distinguished himself in the Boer War. He received a telegram of praise from Roger Casement.

Chapter 11. Guns for the Ulster Volunteers

In March 1914 a huge consignment of arms and ammunition arrived at Ulster to be distributed to the Ulster Volunteers. O’Connor describes how hundreds of cars owned by the landed gentry were parked along the route at night to light the lorries away from the port. Reading this, I was impressed by the commitment and organisation of these people, always painted as the baddies. I went looking for books about the Ulster Volunteers and only found two. History is written by the winners.

Its arrival triggered similar thoughts in the Irish Volunteers who arranged for Roger Casement. In July a yacht left Hamburg carrying 10,000 rifles. They docked at Howth, were met by Irish Volunteers, who marched with them back into Dublin.

Chapter 12. The Curragh Mutiny, then war

In March 1914 General Sir Arthur Paget, commander of British forces in Ireland, ordering to send detachments to protect depots in the north from raids by the Ulster Volunteers, firing on them if necessary. 60 officers and the leader of the 3rd cavalry brigade refused. This was regarded as a mutiny and rocked the British Army.

What it seemed to show everyone was that the British government would back down when faced with the threat of force. This triggers amusingly emotional rhetoric in O’Connor: ‘sordid intrigue… devious charade… ‘

O’Connor is quick to say in this rebellion of part of the Establishment against another, this splinter was the crack that foreshadowed the end of empire in violent independence movements around the world.

The Home Rule bill passed through the Commons in May 1914 and was scheduled to become law in September 1914. But in August the Great War broke out and all domestic legislation was suspended.

When war broke out, John Redmond, leader of the Irish Party which held the balance of power in the Commons, and with a force of some 180,000 trained men at his disposal, could have bargained with the Liberal government and witheld his support until the government absolutely promised to enact the bill. If an Irish government had been set up in Dublin, albeit with limited powers and still under ultimate British control, it is unlikely there would have been any Easter Rising.

But he didn’t. Without consulting his party he stood in the House of Commons and pledged the support of the entire nation of Ireland to the British in their time of need. This made the Irish immensely popular, even with the Conservative right, but at a stroke he handed over his trump card and had nothing left to bargain with.

The bill was placed on the statute book but only to come into force after the war. That was the rub. That was the cause.

Recruits flocked to volunteer. Some 300,000 Irish fought for the Empire, 40,000 of them were killed. But after the first flush of enthusiasm, many Irish found it difficult to win commissions in Irish regiments. The British Army establishment preferred Irish regiments to be officered by loyal British Protestant officers.

Chapter 13. Padraig Pearse and the military council

September 1914 the leadership of the Irish Republican Brotherhood decided that a nationalist uprising would take place before the war ended and began making plans.

James Connolly opposed the war from a Marxist point of view, as empires fighting over resources and markets.

Snapshots of: Padraig Pearse, at this point teaching at St Enda’s school; Thomas MacDonagh, English lecturer at the National University; Joseph Plunkett, poet and editor of the Irish Review. All three are members of the military council of the IRB. They didn’t expect a rising to defeat the British. They expected it to create an independent republic long enough for its case to be made at the conferences which would end the war. More poetically, the felt that they would revive the soul of their nation.

In March 1916 Clann na Gael contacted him to say they would be sending 20,000 rifles and 10 million rounds.

Meanwhile James Connolly, the socialist trade unionist, independent of the IRB, had concluded that an armed uprising was necessary, using his citizen army. Fearful lest the plans clash, the military council invited Connolly to a meeting in January 1916. He was delighted to hear the news from Joseph Plunkett and both sides agreed the uprising would happen at Easter 1916.

Chapter 14. The Easter Rising

Eoin MacNeill interferes MacNeill was the commander-in-chief of the Irish Volunteers but he was deliberately kept out of the loop by the IRB military council. Only on Good Friday did he learn about plans for an uprising on Monday. He strongly disapproved and went to St Enda’s to see Pearse. Pearse persuaded him plans were too far advanced and also a shipment of arms was arriving from Germany so MacNeill acquiesced.

But late on Saturday morning, he learned the arms shipment had been intercepted. Feeling he’d been fooled, MacNeill took out an advert in the Sunday papers telling his volunteers their traditional Easter weekend training manoeuvres were cancelled. Many read this and stayed at home. When the news of the uprising spread on Monday they weren’t ready. Pearse’s response was to send out envoys to Volunteer groups around the country and tell them to carry on, but the damage was done. On the Monday, most Volunteer groups did not rise along with Dublin. If they had the British Army would have been spread very thin. Instead they were able to concentrate their firepower in Dublin and end the uprising after a week (p.84).

O’Connor tells us that his grandfather knew MacNeill and once told him he wasn’t a bad man. Hard to see how he doesn’t come out of this as the fall guy.

The uprising began at 12 noon on Monday 24 April 1916 and continued for 6 days. At 11 Pearse and Connolly marched their men from Liberty Hall over to the poorly defended Post Office and seized it. Pearse stood between the huge Greek columns and read out a declaration of independence. O’Connor gives a good enough account but I’m not sure it’s worth my summarising his summary. Instead here’s the Wikipedia article:

Chapter 15. The uprising continues

The British put Brigadier Lowe in charge of suppressing the uprising. He brought a gunboat up the river which bombarded Liberty Hall then the GPO. Houses on both sides were set on fire. Eight or so other buildings had been seized so sporadic sniping and shelling took place round those, too.

The weirdest thing about it was the way most Dubliners strolled around watching it take place. O’Connor quotes the usual suspects, Gogarty, James Stephens, George Moore, Sean O’Casey, strolling round the city, listening to the shellfire, observing other citizens going about their business.

Chapter 16. The uprising ends; the executions

On Friday 28 April 1916 General Maxwell arrived and began investing the key sites in a rigorous way. At 2.30pm the next day, Saturday 29 April, Pearse surrendered to General Lowe.

Four days later the executions began. Sixteen rebel leaders were shot:

Signatories of the Proclamation of Independence: Patrick Pearse, Tom Clarke, Thomas MacDonagh, Joseph Plunkett, Sean Mac Diarmada, Éamonn Ceannt, and James Connolly.

Other leaders: Willie Pearse (brother of Patrick), Edward Daly, Michael O’Hanrahan, John MacBride, Seán Heuston, Con Colbert, and Michael Mallin.

MacBride was husband to Maud Gonne, the dazzling beauty who bewitched Willie Yeats.

Remember dashing Lady Constance Markievicz? She had been deputy of the troop which held Stephen’s Green then pulled back to the College of Surgeons. She was sentenced to death, too, which was commuted to life imprisonment as she was a woman. In fact she was released after less than a year when the British government offered a general amnesty.

About 1,350 people were killed or wounded, mostly civilians. The centre of Dublin had been gutted. The general population was furious with the rebels. Elsewhere life went on as normal with business carried out while the middle classes played golf and tennis.

Chapter 17. Poetic reactions

Characteristically, O’Connor summarises the aftermath by quoting the usual suspects: W.B. Yeats, George Russell, James Stephens, Lady Gregory, Tom Kettle.

He has a romantic notion of poets, that they are the first to notice the changes in a nation’s soul, that these poets grasped the rising’s significance way before the silly politicians.

Chapter 18. Roger Casement

In the last few years before the war Casement developed a pathological hatred of Britain’s rule in Ireland. Just before the Great War broke out he went to New York to work with Clann na Gael. In December 1914 he persuaded its leader, John Devoy, to Germany, as an envoy from independent Ireland and to secure arms. In fact Casement spent two weary years getting nowhere, and eventually asked to be returned to Ireland (with no guns). The Germans laid on a submarine which took him to the south coast but due to a SNAFU in the arrangements he was put into a canvas boat with two others, while the U-boat departed. The canvas boat overturned in high seas and Casement barely made it ashore. he staggered to the nearest house where he was resting when he was arrested by the local bobby, sent to Dublin and then to the Tower of London.

Chapter 19. The trial of Roger Casement

O’Connor was a practicing lawyer and so gives a brief but vivid account of Casement’s trial. As usual, a trial had nothing to do with ‘justice’ but entirely practical wrangles and politicking. Casement’s defence lawyer, Serjeant Sullivan, had himself recruited in Ireland for the British Army i.e was on the opposite side of the political cause. (O’Connor remembers seeing the 90-something old lawyer still beetling around the Dublin Inns of Court when your man was just a young barrister.)

Not just that, but the prosecuting counsel was F.E. Smith who had been active in the setting up of the Ulster Volunteers back in 1912 i.e. was extremely anti-Casement’s independence position and also, as O’Connor emphasises, arguably more guilty of treason than Casement.

The case revolved round the accusation that casement tried to recruit Irish prisoners of war held in Germany to join the German Army and fight against Britain. The defence argued that the treason act only applied to activities here in England, and Casement’s activities had taken place abroad.

Throughout the trial the authorities made available to the police, lawyers and senior figures in the Establishment the so-called black diaries in which Casement appeared to describe his personal homosexual activities in great detail. For a long time these were thought to be fakes but in the 1990s were apparently confirmed as true.

Poor Casement, a hero of international human rights, a principled nationalist and patriot, he was found guilty and hanged on 3 August 1916. He made a condemned man’s speech from the dock. O’Connor points out that so many Irish patriots did this that it is virtually a literary genre in itself. He made the point that the creation of the Ulster Volunteers created the atmosphere of violence, and the Curragh Mutiny in effect condoned disobedience to the Crown (although all that was fine if you were on the Protestant side).

(True to his recurring attempts to portray the rising as the having international impacts on other freedom struggles of other imperial colonies, O’Connor claims that Casement’s speech had a profound impact on the young Pandit Nehru.)

High Treason, Court of Criminal Appeal: the Trial of Sir Roger Casement 1916 - Government Art Collection

The Trial of Sir Roger Casement by Sir John Lavery (1916)

With the end of the Casement trial we reach the en of the build-up to and events of, the Easter Rising, on page 114 of this 180-page book. The rest of O’Connor’s book describes events over the next 4 years, the rise of Sinn Fein, the success of Arthur Griffith’s abstentionist policy, the granting of home rule and then the bitter civil war of 1921 to ’22.

Chapter 20. Sinn Fein

Some 3,000 people were interned after the rising. Over the next 12 months they were released in batches. By June 1917 the public mood had changed to become more sympathetic to the rising leaders who were coming to be seen as martyrs. In by-elections that year, Sinn Fein candidates won but refused to take their seats in the London Parliament, a tradition which continues to this day.

Eamon de Valera was the only commander who wasn’t executed. Upon release he contested a by-election and defeated the Irish Party candidate. Sinn Fein was replacing Redmond’s party.

Thomas Ashe, president of the IRB, went on hunger strike in prison. When he died, Michael Collins, who’d been released from internment at Christmas 1916, decided to organise a vast funeral for him. Characteristically, O’Connor tells us Sean O’Casey wrote a ballad requiem for Ashe, and quotes a hymn by Ashe himself.

Chapter 21. Conscription and the Dail

Most Irish still favoured the constitutional party of John Redmond and expected the home rule bill, which was on the statute books, to be implemented as soon as the war ended.

Then in spring 1918 the British made the latest in a long line of blunders when the Army Chiefs of Staff prevailed on Lloyd George to pass an act compelling the conscription of all able-bodied men in Ireland into the British Army. Not only Sinn Fein and the Irish Party but the Catholic party opposed it, though O’Connor skips completely over its implementation. He quotes A.J.P. Taylor as saying it was the decisive moment in Ireland’s seceding from the Union.

In the December 1918 general election the Irish Party was obliterated by Sinn Fein, winning just 6 seats to the nationalists’ 73. John Redmond had died in March.

The Sinn Fein MPs promptly set up their own government in the Mansion House in Dublin and called it the Dail. No fewer than 36 of the 73 MPs were in British prisons. A Declaration of Independence was read out.

Three delegates were chosen to attend the Peace Conference in Versailles. In April 1919 a President was elected and a Cabinet chosen. Griffith stood down in favour of de Valera who was beginning to acquire charisma and status, although the latter was in prison in England. Republican courts of justice were set up in the counties of Ireland and slowly these began to replace the British institutions.

When physical force was used later, it was important that the Volunteers and others derived genuine legitimacy by acting as the Army of an elected government rather than a paramilitary force.

Michael Collins, who was becoming chief fixer, organised the escape of de Valera from Lincoln prison.

Chapter 22.

The British banned the Dail and set about arresting nationalists. The cabinet ministers went into hiding. Collins had been made Director of Intelligence. Now he turned out to be a spymaster and guerrilla organiser of genius. O’Connor makes his recurring point that the strategy Collins developed went on to be copied by independence movements around the globe.

Collins knew they couldn’t fight the British soldier for soldier. But imperial rule rested on a network of spies and he could kill these spies. He got his own men on the inside of Dublin Castle and access to government files. He drew up lists of informers, and then he created a cadre of cold-hearted killers who began a campaign of targets assassinations starting in July 1919.

I noted that O’Connor mentioned when he had personal connections with various figures in the story. Now these become more frequent. He appears to have interviewed quite a few of these informers and assassins (Bill Stapleton, Joe Dolan) who give him vivid descriptions of actual assassinations they took part in.

The squad operated out of a decorators’ shop in Abbey Street. It’s difficult to credit, hard to believe, that this gang of assassins operated just a few minutes’ walk from Dublin Castle, the centre of the British police effort. How?

Chapter 23. The IRA in the countryside

At some point the Irish Volunteers morphed into the Irish Republican Army although, apparently, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when. O’Connor describes the spread of volunteers through towns around Ireland. Often these were dominated by Big Houses and/or British Army barracks, along with schools, Protestant churches and so on.

As so often, the authorities found it difficult to deal with an enemy which was part of the local population, appeared suddenly to assassinate someone or blow something up, then melted back into the general population. Also they knew the country better than the occupier, and where to hide out.

The strategy of ambushing British Army troops, convoys and so on, sometimes throwing grenades, sometimes mining roads, followed by rifle fusillades. The Brits called it ‘ditch murder’, but in his internationalist mode. O’ Connor points out how it went on to be copied by Mao Tse Tung, Tito, General Guap, Che Guevara and many others (p.140).

These attacks continued through 1920, with sometimes large-scaled engagements leaving 10 to 20 British soldiers dead. It was a real guerrilla war On Easter Sunday 1920 these flying squads set fire to 100 Inland Revenue buildings and 350 empty police stations.

Inevitably the British retaliated with a heavy hand. If a police station was attacked, neighbouring houses were to be burned down. Hunger strikers were to be helped to die. This not only embittered local populations but led to widespread resignations by Irishmen from the Royal Irish Constabulary.

Chapter 24. The Black and Tans

Many servicemen demobilised after the Great War were still unemployed. The British government launched a recruitment drive and many signed up to go and serve in Ireland. There was a shortage of uniforms so they were given dark green tunics and khaki trousers. So the locals nicknamed the Black and Tans. The first arrived in Ireland in March 1920. A few months later they were joined by Auxiliaries, ex-Army officers paid £7 a week. They were given licence to embark on savage, undisciplined reprisals .

Every media outlet was soon condemning their activities which came to be described as a terror campaign. They arrived in force in a town, made all the inhabitants assemble in the street, humiliated and beat them, set some houses on fire, occasionally bayoneted or shot anyone who resisted, then drove off leaving generations of bitterness behind them. Stupid stupid stupid.

The worst burning was in Cork where the Black and Tans went berserk, burning down key buildings including the City Hall. For weeks after they suspended burned corks from their hats. Who authorised this? Whose bright idea was this?

O’Connor gives a particular anecdote. On 15 December 1920 Canon Magnar of Dunmanway County Cork was in the street talking to a man. A lorryload of Auxies drew up, some jumped out, and shot the man dead. When the Canon protested, he was shot dead too.

O’Connor notes how they often destroyed local dairies and creameries in an effort to destroy local economies, prompting a letter of protest from AE who had spent many years setting up dairy co-operatives precisely to support locals. O’Connor quotes Yeats’ poem Nineteen nineteen:

Now days are dragon-ridden, the nightmare
Rides upon sleep: a drunken soldiery
Can leave the mother, murdered at her door,
To crawl in her own blood, and go scot-free;
The night can sweat with terror as before
We pieced our thoughts into philosophy,
And planned to bring the world under a rule,
Who are but weasels fighting in a hole.

Chapter 25. de Valera

Back in June 1919 de Valera was smuggled onto a ship to New York. Here he held press conferences as the spokesman of the new (not yet existent) republic. New York, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco, he spread the word in a calm and dignified manner, boosting his own profile in the process. He took a financier with him and together they raised over a million dollars by the time he returned in January 1921.

Meanwhile the Dail continued to set up an alternative governance infrastructure with land courts, district courts etc, complete with lawyers and judges. People stopped using the British courts and used the nationalist ones. O’Connor quotes landowners and senior figures praising the new regime for its fairness and efficiency.

As usual, O’Connor internationalises it to say that just these tactics would be used in other colonies under the phrase ‘civil disobedience’ (p.152).

Chapter 26. Michael Collins

By the autumn of 1920 Dublin was under curfew. Lorries of soldiers patrolled the streets, with wire netting so grenades thrown at them bounced off. Houses were subject to random searches and maybe burning by the Black and Tans and citizens hauled off to prison. A police state. Officials and Auxies were assassinated in the streets. The press had uniformly turned against the government.

Meanwhile Michael Collins held four portfolios within the unofficial government and maintained an intricate network of spies, informers and assassination squads. He kept scrupulous records and accounts which O’Connor has perused.

The government put a bounty of £10,000 on his head but, incredibly, he remained not only at liberty but calmly cycled around central Dublin between his various offices. One of Collins’s key spies in Dublin Castle, Eamonn Broy, personally told O’Connor of some of his escapades with Collins.

O’Connor gives a brief impressionistic pen portrait, admiring Collins’s meticulous way with figures and accounting, his head rammed with facts and details which helped him make intelligence connections, his absolute cold-bloodedness when it came to assassinations, his courage in facing out numerous dicey situations and, alongside, what O’Connor sees as a typically Irish strain of romantic patriotism (he spends a page attributing the same thing to Casement, earlier).

Chapter 27. Martyrs

25 October 1920 Terence MacSwiney, Lord Mayor of Cork, died after a prolonged hunger strike in Brixton Prison. His lingering death was given international coverage, along with his claims for Irish freedom. He had actually written a play about a nationalist hunger striker but here, as elsewhere, O’Connor says the British authorities didn’t pay enough attention to Irish poetry, plays and literature. Here’s just one example of O’Connor’s personal and ripe prose style.

As with the death of Thomas Ashe, a shudder ran through the Nation’s being. (p.160)

If you wanted objective history, O’Connor is not your man. Facts yes, but also plenty of melodrama, passion, bitterness and romanticisation, along with quite a few personal confidences from eye witnesses, that’s what this brief book provides.

MacSweeney was afforded a magnificent funeral at Southwark cathedral in London. Sir John Lavery made this preparatory sketch for a large-scale painting.

Sketch for the Funeral of Terence MacSwiney, Lord Mayor of Cork, at Southwark cathedral by Sir John Lavery (1920)

On 1 November good looking, 18-year-old medical student Keven Barry was hanged for his involvement in an ambush in which a British soldier was killed. According to O’Connor his name became a symbol around the world, and:

There are few places in the English-speaking world where ‘Keven Barry’ is not sung. (p.162)

I’d never heard of it till I read this book. 1) Times change 2) it’s a typical example of O’Connor’s chauvinism, which I use to mean ‘excessive or prejudiced support for one’s own cause or group’, which crops up throughout the book. I don’t really mean that in a bad sense – just to mean that he is very strongly biased indeed.

Yeats had been booked to debate at the Oxford Union and apparently walked up and down the central aisle railing against the British government’s stupidity and mismanagement. A.E. lobbied Lord Northcliffe to get his American newspapers to print opinion pieces decrying British atrocities in Ireland. What with this and de Valera and their own anti-British history, American opinion swung behind the nationalists. It played an important part in negotiations between Britain and Ireland as it was to do for the rest of the century.

O’Connor quotes a very effective letter from Yeats to the Times saying the British spent the entire Great War railing against Germany’s atrocities against civilians in Belgium and philistine burning of cultural centres and now they were doing exactly the same in Ireland.

Chapter 28. The Cairo gang

Set up by Sir Henry Wilson in autumn 1920 to identify and assassinate all key Sinn Fein and IRA personnel. In one night one of these death squads murdered the current and former Lord Mayor of Limerick. The latter was Alderman George Clancy who had been a close friend of James Joyce and appears in ‘A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man’ as Davin, the peasant nationalist.

Collins used his intelligence network to identify members of the Cairo gang. O’Connor spoke with General Richard Mulcahy, Chief of Staff of the IRA, who is forthright about the need to destroy the death squads. So after much planning, Collins launched Black Sunday, when his death squads assassinated their death squads. 9am on the morning of 21 November 1920. A total of 14 British spies were executed.

O’Connor gives several pages detailed descriptions of men kicking in doors, shooting unarmed men in the back, as they nipped out of windows, taking them to a cellar and shooting them in the side of the head, the British torturing captives.

Lieutenant Aimes and Bennet were pulled out of bed by a group of armed men, placed standing together, both were then shot.

Some of the men refused to come out and were shot in bed. Others came to the door and were shot as they opened it. Two agents were shot on the landing, the stairs were covered in blood.

Flanagan took four Englishmen down to the cellar and after asking their names, shot them in the side of the head.

[Ordered to track down an Irishman identified as a snitch, Bill Stapleton tells O’Connor] We found him in a pub, a big burly man. He blustered at first: then we took him out and shot him.

O’Connor and other nationalists see this as the price of freedom. I see it as the inevitable outcome of the ethnic nationalist way of thinking. Compare the similar accounts I’ve summarised of the civil wars in Yugoslavia or the chaos in Iraq: perfectly decent educated men convinced that in order to make a better world they have to torture and execute other unarmed men, sometimes women, and burn their houses down.

In retaliation for the Bloody Sunday assassinations, later the same day a detachment of Black and Tans drove to Croke Park Sports ground where a Gaelic football match was in progress. They set up a machine gun and started firing into the panic-stricken crowd. A drunk Black and Tan lined up both teams and was going to execute them all until a sober regular British Army officer intervened.

And there are people who still insist that humanity is a rational creature.

O’Connor suggests Bloody Sunday was the day British rule broke in Ireland, although I thought he said the same about the introduction of conscription in 1917. Maybe it broke repeatedly. As I’ve said, O’Connor links Ireland to the independence struggles of other British colonies.

Not only was Bloody Sunday to mark the end of Britain’s rule in the greater part of Ireland, it was to be the beginning of the break-up of British rule throughout the Empire.

In Kenya, in Cyprus, in Egypt, Palestine and Burma, for the next forty years, guerrilla leaders were to claim Collins as their prototype and adapt the strategy he had designed for evacuating the colonial power. (p.175)

What beggars belief is that Collins organised the funeral of his friend Dick McKee who the British had tortured to death to get information about Collins’s operation, and attended the funeral in person, even though the entire British operation in Ireland was obsessed with finding and arresting him. How was that possible?

Epilogue

The last four pages of O’Connor’s book give a very brisk account of the peace talks which led to the Treaty and then the intense civil war between pro and anti-treaty Irish forces which followed, in which Collins himself (pro-treaty) was killed by anti-treaty forces.

He jumps to January 1922 when the British flag was taken down over Dublin Castle and the last troops marched down to the quay to take ship back to England. Negotiations had taken place from September to December 1921 and a treaty signed with the Dail in January 1922. The 6 northern counties were excluded although everyone expected them to join the Irish Free State within a few years. Civil war broke out between pro and anti treaty nationalists and lasted till May 1922. Griffith died of a stroke. W.T. Cosgrave became the independent nation’s first president.

A Senate was formed which at Griffith’s suggestion reached out to specifically invite the Protestant landed gentry. The new nation had to include everyone. W.B. Yeats was nominated and given the job of designing the states new coinage.

1927: De Valera had been anti the treaty but in 1927 was persuaded to attend the Dail.

1932: Five years later the party he created, known as Fianna Fail, won the 1932 general election.

1937: De Valera set about removing the last vestiges of British rule, in 1937 passing a new constitution.

1938: De Valera persuaded the British government to evacuate its three treaty ports.

1939-45: Thus cleansed of British presence it was easy for the Irish Free State to maintain independence in the war against Nazi Germany. So many Irishmen had died defending the Empire which treated them so poorly in 1914-18.

1948: Fianna Fail lost the general election but the new coalition government promptly removed Ireland from the Commonwealth. Non serviam.

In a throwaway last page, he says the tragic legacy of Northern Ireland was a result of Carson and his ilk refusing to accept the home rule movement and being prepared to go to war to preserve their economic and social status. If only they had thrown in their lot with the nationalists, together they could have forced the British government to give independence 1) much earlier and 2) on more inclusive terms to include the Ulster Protestants. Instead they insisted on holing up in their ghetto which, at the time of O’Connor’s writing (1975) was in chaos.

Thoughts

England’s crimes

It goes without saying that it makes me ashamed to be English to read (yet again) the litany of exploitation, repression, spying, corruption and naked violence with which the English mismanaged Ireland for centuries. But a few other thoughts as well:

History is written by the winners

They say history is written by the victors. The irony here is that the victors were the Irish nationalists who won their free state, with the result that thousands of books, papers, presentations, school syllabuses, TV series and movies have been made about Ireland’s heroic struggle for independence, and not least the dramatic events surrounding the Easter Rising. Supported by latterday English progressives, in the same way that we English now retrospectively (and safely) root for the independence movements in India, Kenya and scores of other places, taking a masochistic pleasure in seeing our own men shot and blown up and our own government covered in ignominy.

What about the losers? With no motive except idle curiosity I went looking to see if there are any books about the Ulster Volunteers and discovered there appear to be just three in print: Carson’s Army, a boringly specialised one about the precise configuration, training etc of the UVF; Friends in High Places; and Ulster will Fight, a series of three books which are prohibitively expensive and aren’t stocked by my London library. Of accounts of the Easter Rising and the long centuries of struggle behind it, there will be no end, as a proud nation promotes itself and mythologisers line up to retell the romantic story. Of the much less glamorous but in its way just as important obstinacy of the Ulster Protestants, very little. They’ll always be the ugly sisters in the fairy tale.

(An impression confirmed by contemporary historian Charles Townshend in his recent book ‘The Partition’ (2021) where he mentions ‘the dearth of significant historical studies of Ulster, certainly in comparison with the plethora of nationalist histories of Ireland (p.265).)

Nationalism

As I’ve read my way across the history of the nineteenth century I’ve come to think of nationalism as a mental virus, like something out of a zombie movie. It spreads across entire nations converting everyone to the belief that they must be ‘free’, no matter how much pain is caused and blood is shed in the process. The problem is that forging a nationalist identity almost instantly requires identifying the enemies within, the protestants or Jews or Roma or Muslims who are tainting ‘the purity of the Nation’.

Nationalism gave birth to the utter catastrophes of the 20th century, to the Great War and the collapse of empires which followed it, and led to the rise of fascism and its turbo-charged mission to liquidate the enemies of the People, all of which led up to the catastrophic Second World War.

The fever of nationalism spread far and wide as scores of imperial colonies fought for their freedom and independence: Israel, the partition of India, the long struggles in Algeria or Malaya or Kenya or Vietnam to name obvious ones.

In the 1970s the struggle of self-defined communities to be free led to ruinous civil wars in Cyprus and Lebanon and countless African nations.

And then after the long freeze of the Cold War, ethnic nationalism led to disasters in Rwanda and the Yugoslav civil wars. Then in this century the rise of ISIS in post-war Iraq, the Arab Spring which led to the ruinous Syrian civil war, and now here we are in 2026 with bloody rebellion in Iran, Israel’s brutal suppression of Palestine, the triumph of the Taliban in Afghanistan and the resurgence of ISIS in Syria. My barbers in south London are all Iraqi Kurds. For as long as I’ve been getting my hair cut there I’ve listened to them giving me the latest on their small nation’s struggle to be free.

Everywhere peoples conceiving of themselves as a nation which needs to be free, or needs to expel the enemy within (as in contemporary Myanmar needs to eliminate its Muslim Rohynga minority). There has been no end of young nationalist zealots who are prepared to die for the Fatherland and take quite a few people along with them.

Irish independence was no doubt a righteous cause, the repressive and incompetent rule of the pompous British needed to be overthrown, and the Irish patriots’ struggle for freedom is no doubt inspiring when viewed from the patriotic angle.

But read now, in 2026, after a century of any-level-of-violence-is-justified-to-free-my-people nationalism, and the hecatombs of atrocities it has inspired, a big part of my response to all of these stories is a shiver of horror at humanity’s utter inability to manage itself.

Now more than ever, Stephen Dedalus’s cry, ‘History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake’, rings true.


Credit

‘A Terrible Beauty is Born’ by Ulick O’Connor was published by Hamish Hamilton in 1975.

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The Edwardians by Roy Hattersley (2004)

Executive summary

Half-way through this hefty 600-page popular history, author Roy Hattersley gives a handy little summary of the era under discussion. Most historians agree that:

  • ‘the Edwardian period’ stretches from the death of Queen Victoria in 1901 to the outbreak of the First World War in 1914
  • it was named and typified by its obese jolly king, a sociable hunting, shooting and cigar-smoking man known for his numerous affairs and mistresses, ‘Edward the Caresser’ as Henry James nicknamed him
  • its dominant political figures were:
    • Arthur Balfour (Conservative Prime Minister 1902 to 1905)
    • Herbert Asquith (Liberal Prime Minister 1908 to 1916)
    • young radical firebrand David Lloyd George (driving force behind the People’s Budget, the Parliament Act and the National Insurance Act which laid the foundations for the welfare state)
    • Winston Churchill was on his way up
    • while Joe Chamberlain, associated with jingoism, the Boer War and protectionism (‘imperial preference’), was on the way out
  • it was a decade troubled by explosive social issues such as women’s suffrage, Irish independence, trade union rights and the arrival of the Labour Party as a political force, destined to supersede the Liberals after the war
  • society was transformed by scientific and technological inventions, on the theoretical level the discover of atomic and subatomic particles and Einstein’s theory of relativity, on the technology level, the rise of the motor car, the telephone and wireless, and the first manned airplane flights

There you have it, in a snapshot.

Dating the Edwardian era

Strictly speaking the Edwardian period refers to the reign of King Edward VII, king from the day his mother, Queen Victoria, died (22 January 1901) to the day he passed away (6 May 1910) to be replaced by his son, King George V (reigned 6 May 1910 to 20 January 1936).

However, like pretty much all historians of the period Hattersley stretches the definition of ‘Edwardian’ forwards to include the four years leading up to the Great War (commenced August 1914). And also, because he feels obliged to explain the origins and course of the Boer War (11 October 1899 to 31 May 1902), which was still ongoing when Edward came to the throne and which requires a description of the Jameson Raid (December 1895), Hattersley at various points goes back before his theoretical starting date to explain the deeper origins of this or that issue.

In other words, the dating is quite fluid, not only when it comes to politics but to social history as well, Hattersley reaching, in his chapter on poverty, back to the many reports on the subject published during the 1890s (for example, Charles Booth’s Life and Labour of the People of London 1889 to 1903); or going back to early roots of the suffragette movement which can said to have started in the 1880s; or of the Labour movement, which can be dated all the way back to Henry Hyndman founding Britain’s first left-wing political party, the Democratic Federation, in 1881; or, regarding the Irish Question, having to dig back into the 1880s to describe the secession of the Liberal Unionists who disagreed with Gladstone’s ill-fated policy of Home Rule for Ireland. And so on.

Subverting a straw man

On the cover, on the back, in the blurb and repeatedly within the text, Hattersley and his publishers say this book tackles and refutes the notion that Edwardian England was one long summer of boaters, bathers and village pubs, attacking the notion that the period ‘is often seen as a golden sunlit afternoon, personified by its genial and self-indulgent king’, before the Armageddon of the First World War.

The trouble is that this is what absolutely every book about the Edwardian era claims to do, using the same straw man to assert its novelty and originality. In fact not just histories but anyone who’s read the introduction to novels by H.G. Wells or Arnold Bennett or E.M. Foster reads the same ‘golden summer’ straw man being knocked down in the same way as the author sets out to correct our misconceptions to tell us that the period 1901 to 1914 was in fact crammed with scientific, technological and consumer product innovations and packed with fraught social and political issues, some of which I’ve listed above. It’s the standard trope invoked by all historians of the period.

The book announces its tone of superior gossip with a gorgeous description of Queen Victoria’s funeral (Saturday, 2 February 1901) and then a gossipy portrait of King Edward, his biography, personality and the courtiers and advisers who surrounded him. Initially, I thought maybe the whole thing was going to be a gossipy survey of Edwardian people. It was only on reading further that I realised that each of the 20 chapters, despite their vague and sometimes misleading titles (I’ve added clearer indications of their subject matter in brackets), is devoted to a specific social and political issue and examines each one in some detail.

It’s a romp, it’s a guilty pleasure, it’s good popular history packed to the gills with fascinating factoids – but still, coming to this book from the works of professional historians like Richard Shannon or Eric Hobsbawm is like falling off a cliff in terms of intellectual substance, historical authority and serious analysis.

1. A Cloud Across The Sun (Victoria’s funeral)

Detailed description of the immense and impressive procession of the body of Queen Victoria through London en route to her final resting place in Windsor. The total number of soldiers involved in taking part in or policing the procession was larger than the British Expeditionary Force sent to France at the start of the Great War. Most people were stunned for nobody knew any other monarch than Victoria who had reigned for 63 years. Generations had been brought up to associate the very word ‘Victorian’ with Britain’s world leading position. Her death triggered much soul searching. Educated commentators were uneasily aware that Britain was slipping. America and Germany were overtaking her in terms of industrial output (p.67, 467) and Germany’s Navy Law of 1898 set it on a course to match or exceed the Royal Navy’s firepower (p.15). Imperial anxiety as the old era ended.

2. The Spirit of the Age (Edward’s character)

Edward was 60 when he came to the throne and was (surprisingly) badly prepared for the job. Successive prime ministers (Gladstone, Disraeli) tried to suggest useful jobs and opinions where he could get a feel for the nation he was set to rule but either Victoria or the Prince himself vetoed them.

He had a state income of £100,000. The whole country knew about Edward’s louche reputation. He had been named in a number of scandalous court cases and was well known to enjoy gambling, the horses, yachting and the high life. He was addicted to baccarat. The serious and high-minded (the kind of people who leave written texts such as sermons, newspaper articles, writers’ diaries etc) deplored his character and worried about the moral falling off which his rule would bring. The Marlborough House set.

But the thing about the written records is they tend to preserve the opinions of the worthy, high-minded, literate and concerned and ignore or neglect the opinions of the vast mass of the population who left few if any records. And in this respect, I think a key thing to grasp about the English is that they welcomed Charles II with open arms, and that well-known womaniser, gambler, horse and yacht-racing addict has gone down as arguably the most popular British king ever. So, away from the hand-wringing editorials, there might have been a great portion of the fun-loving proletariat who admired a merry monarch. (Compare and contrast the ongoing popularity of Boris Johnson – inexplicable to liberals and worthy Tories – an adulterer, drinker and shambling liar, but still admired by many for being a bloke you could go down the pub and have a laugh with).

And indeed Hattersley goes on to say that Edward’s much higher profile than his reclusive mother – photos in the press and reports of him opening Parliament or at racing meetings or holidaying in the South of France – associated him with the new taste for leisure and relaxation. Edward epitomised a new age of leisure.

Edward was very fat due to overeating. His chest and waist measured 48 inches. Hattersley gives mind boggling details of a typical royal meal, which usually had at least 14 courses. His coronation had to be postponed to a sudden flaring up of appendicitis and the consequent operation and was eventually held on 9 August 1902.

Edward hated to be alone and was an insatiable socialiser. He was liable to descend on the grand country houses of the aristocracy with little warning, an event which entailed huge disruption. After a string of extra-marital liaisons in 1892 he met Alice Keppel, the daughter of an admiral, and she became his official mistress for the rest of his life.

He was a menace in foreign affairs, acting tactlessly with the touchy Kaiser, but was personally involved in the great diplomatic triumph of his reign, the Entente Cordiale with France, which he did a lot to cement by a personal visit to Paris during which he undertook a lot of engagements with great enthusiasm and was eventually cheered by the French crowds.

Edward revived the state opening of Parliament in all its meretricious pomp and hollow ceremonial, which had been allowed to lapse by his reclusive mother, and which continues to this day, televised to the simpering tones of royal commentators.

3. The Powers Behind the Throne (Edward’s advisers)

When Edward came to the throne Britain was an imperial oligarchy, ruled by groups of aristocratic or mercantile families. Hattersley gives an entertaining tour of the political class, starting with the lingering influence of the Liberal ‘Grand Old Man’ Gladstone who had died in 1898, and the Conservative Lord Salisbury, Prime Minister when Edward acceded, who resigned a year later in July 1902, to be succeeded by his nephew, Arthur Balfour.

The Edwardian Prime Ministers

  • Lord Salisbury (Conservative) 1895 to 1902
  • Arthur James Balfour (Conservative) 1902 to 1905
  • Henry Campbell-Bannerman (Liberal) 1905 to 1908
  • Herbert Henry Asquith (Liberal) 1908 to 1916

(See section on ‘Politicians’, below.) This fusty world of faineant plutocrats was to be shaken up by the two firebrands, Winston Churchill and David Lloyd George.

The chapter morphs into a consideration of Edward’s closest personal advisers, being: Arthur Hardinge, Francis Knollys, Reginald Brett, military adviser Admiral Fisher.

4. The Condition of England

Named after the bestselling analysis of British society published in 1909 by Liberal politician and cabinet minister Charles Masterman.

Masterman copied the method of Matthew Arnold’s Victorian tract, ‘Culture and Anarchy’, by assigning the classes and groups of people in Edwardian England new generic names:

  • the Conquerors (the old aristocracy)
  • the Suburbans (the middle middle-class)
  • the Multitude (the masses)

In the event Hattersley doesn’t dwell on Masterman’s analysis but uses it as a jumping off point for statistics about Britain’s economic decline, her stalling industrial growth, the shrinking of productive agriculture, the reliance on the informal economics of empire. He then goes on to summarise a bevy of reports and surveys which came out during the decade giving hard evidence of the dire poverty of about half the population, especially agricultural workers (‘Social surveys proliferated in Edwardian Britain’, p.74).

Lots of detail about the pay and wages of workers in different sectors, in different parts of the country with special attention to women.

5. Unfinished Business (the Boer War)

Hattersley’s account of the Boer War, with as much or more about its impact on domestic politics i.e. its fractious impact on an already split Liberal Party (because some Liberals were imperialists and some were anti-imperial Radicals). Milner’s miscalculation in thinking the Boers could be intimidated into submitting to Britain. The reasonableness of Paul Kruger’s position in not wanting his small culturally homogeneous country swamped by outsiders who, if given the vote, would support Britain’s policies. The chaotic conduct of the war. The concentration camp policy: in the 13 months between January 1901 and February 1902, to Britain’s eternal shame, 20,000 internees died, mostly women and children. Lloyd George was a rare voice fiercely denouncing the war, while the imperialist Liberals set up something called the Liberal Imperial Council.

6. A Preference for Empire (the tariff campaign)

‘Victory’ in the Boer War cost the British Exchequer some £222 million. This money had to be recouped. Of all UK politicians Joseph Chamberlain was most associated with the war, ‘Joe’s War’. Massively popular after the victory, he now launched a campaign for imperial protectionism i.e. to create a free trade zone between Britain and the white dominions (Canada, Australia, New Zealand, post-Boer War South Africa) and impose tariffs on imports from all other countries.

Hattersley gives his interpretation of the wild enthusiasm which greeted Joe’s campaign: it was widely seen as a cure for what an increasing number of people were realising was Britain’s industrial eclipse.

Manufacture was in decline. The Industrial Revolution had, in reality, ended more than half a century earlier. The consequences of failure to innovate and invest were just working their way through into the economy. Declining industries longed to be protected by a tariff. (p.109)

In 1903 Chamberlain made a big speech for ‘imperial preference’ which was seen as a proclamation that ‘the British Empire must stand together against the world’ (p.109). The government of the day was Conservative, led by Prime Minister Arthur Balfour, but it only had a majority because of its coalition with the Liberal Unionist defectors from the Liberal party. Now the core principle of old school liberalism was the free trade which had made Britain great in the mid-Victorian period.

In fact Hattersley neglects the detail and implications of protectionism to focus on giving an intricate and quite confusing account of the problems Balfour faced keeping his cabinet and his government together, which boiled down to the timing and way of announcing the resignation of various dissidents. Chamberlain resigned because protectionism wasn’t being implemented fast enough but Tory free traders also resigned in opposition to the policy and detestation of the former Liberal Chamberlain’s influence. Balfour dealt with the ongoing crisis with silky subtlety from 1902 to 1905 and then resigned government at the end of 1905. A general election was held in January 1906 and the Liberals stormed home in a landslide. The Liberals were, in fact, deeply divided over various issues, centrally the question of Irish Home Rule, but managed to unite around their anti-protectionism and ran a campaign highlighting the fact that tariffs would raise the cost of food.

Hattersley skimps on this, a key fact brought out in other accounts I’ve read. Instead he is obsessed with the minutiae of what Balfour promised the Duke of Devonshire who upset a trio of colleagues by not resigning alongside them, with details of meetings and dinners and promises and pledges among the Tory elite. No doubt that’s how politics actually works, but this aspect of Hattersley’s account is for politics addicts.

7. Uniting the Nation (social reforms)

Having painted in the background, this is the chapter in which Hattersley gets round to explaining the changes which he’s been claiming were so central to the Edwardian decade. At their core is one thing, a revolution in the political culture of the nation. Victoria’s entire reign was dominated by a laisser-faire philosophy of free trade and unfettered competition and the devil take the hindmost. Classical liberalism thought the state ought to be small and had just two duties, to uphold the law at home and protect from foreign enemies. When it came to the vast majority of the British population which were either poor or very poor or utterly destitute, the almost universal assumption was that their poverty was their own responsibility. Victorian moralists blamed the plight of the poor on their own indigence, immorality, laziness and so on. The only recourse for the poor and unemployed was the workhouse which, since the Poor Law of 1832, was purposely designed to be as inhumane as possible in order to act as a deterrent, and a spur to the indigent poor to try harder.

During the Edwardian decade this political philosophy underwent a swift and amazing revolution. A series of reports by charities and investigators during the 1890s revealed depths of poverty and squalor in all Britain’s cities but also in the countryside that had never been appreciated before. These findings were incorporated into a series of royal commissions which in turn led to a flurry of acts which fundamentally altered the attitude of the state to the poor from judgemental vengeance to support and responsibility.

  • 1902 registration of midwives
  • 1906 Education Act stipulating the supply of school meals
  • a system of medical inspection of schools
  • 1907 borstals were established for young offenders
  • 1908 act made neglect a criminal offence for the first time

Why? The pop history answer is that the Boer War revealed the shocking health of the stunted wretches conscripted from Britain’s slums. Also, the influence of the growing number of Labour MPs, in the 1906 election Labour won 53 seats.

But what really comes over in this chapter is that we were copying Germany which was already decades ahead of us. This was especially true in the area of supporting the unemployed, creating a national insurance tax to pay the unemployed a minimum dole, and creating labour exchanges to help people back into work. Conservatives were persuaded of these lefty measures because they improved the efficiency of the economy as a whole. And far from being radical experiments, Britain copied the tried and tested methods which were already propelling Germany’s economy ahead of ours on every measure. To compete against its rivals, Britain needed a better educated, better fed workforce that wasn’t allowed to rot and lose its skills when laid off by capitalism’s regular slumps. Hence the unemployed workmen’s act and powers to set up labour exchanges (p.130).

It’s startling to learn that a young William Beveridge went to study Germany’s welfare provision in 1905 and was so impressed by what he saw that he brought back to Britain a version of the Bismarckian system which was to form the basis of the hugely influential report published during the war and which, famously, formed the basis of the Welfare State created by the Labour government under Clement Attlee (p.465).

Some of the child and family laws were passed under the Conservatives before 1905, but the working men’s legislation was driven forward by Winston Churchill during his so-called New Liberal phase. Churchill drove forward prison reform, a bill improving conditions in coal mines, a bill limiting the number of hours people could work in shops,

8. Who Shall Rule?

The clash between the old ruling class and the new liberals came to a head in the great constitutional crisis triggered by Lloyd George’s 1909 budget which imposed new taxes on the rich in order to fund old age pensions and welfare policies and which the House of Lords, dominated by rich landowners, promptly rejected. The Liberal government led by Prime Minister Herbert Asquith, First Earl of Oxford, threatened to flood with Lords with Liberal peers while radical firebrand David Lloyd George toured the country giving rabble rousing speeches, backed up by Winston Churchill, still in his fierce new Liberal phase.

Hattersley gives a fairly detailed account of the political machinations, in the middle of which King Edward died (6 May 1910) and was replaced by his son, George V. The Liberals proceeded to win two general elections (in January and December 1910) (admittedly with Labour and Irish Nationalist support) which persuaded the new sovereign, very reluctantly, to accede to Asquith’s threat, which in turn led the Lords to back down and pass Lloyd George’s Budget and the National Insurance Bill.

Hattersley delivers one of those pithy summaries which I remember my history teachers at school used to extract and turn into an essay question, namely: Victoria handed over to her successor the poisoned chalice of the Boer War, and Edward VII handed over to his successor the Peers-versus-the-People crisis.

9. Ourselves Alone (Irish Home Rule)

After decades of frustration among Irish nationalists, the question of Irish Home Rule returned to the agenda in Westminster because, in the 1910 general election called by the Liberal Party to prove their mandate for Lloyd George’s inflammatory budget of 1909, Conservatives and Liberals both won about 270 seats and so the balance of power was held by the Irish Nationalists with their 82 MPs.

It took the sclerotic process of Whitehall to get it together, but the 1912 Home Rule Bill was the price the British Liberals paid the Irish Nationalists for their support in getting the Budget and the act to reform the House of Lords through (p.187).

Hattersley goes back to recap the background. After the fall of its charismatic leader Charles Stewart Parnell 1890, named in a divorce case as an adulterer, the struggle for Irish independence went into abeyance.

‘The era of constitutional possibilities for Irish nationality ended on the day that Charles Stewart Parnell died.’ (Arthur Griffith, quoted on page 182)

Hattersley namechecks the key players and the numerous organisations set up to campaign for home rule, including Michael Davitt and Arthur Griffith (founder of Sinn Fein and editor of The United Irishman), John MacBride and James Connolly, Roger Casement (revealer of the horrors of Belgium’s colony in the Congo and later gun-runner for the IRA), James Larkin (leader of the Irish Transport and General Workers Union), John Redmond (leader of the Nationalist Party in Parliament), Michael Collins, along with the upper class women, Maud Gonne and Constance Gore-Booth, memorialised by the great poet W.B. Yeats.

Ireland was wretchedly badly run by the British, with rural and urban poverty even worse than on the mainland. The nationalist cause was boosted by Britain’s appalling handling of the Boer War, in which another small people was bullied and butchered by an overweening empire.

I read a lot of this stuff as an undergraduate as background to Yeats’s poetry, and periodically over the following years. Rereading it all in detail, I was struck not by the Irish fight for independence which, in a sense, that is simple and logical, like any other colonial struggle against imperial masters. What always impresses me is the strength of the opposing force, the rise of Unionism in Ulster, led by the brilliant and charismatic lawyer, Sir Edward Carson, the hundreds of thousands of northern Protestants who signed petitions, the 100,000 men who joined the proto Ulster army, the mass smuggling in of guns and ammunition, and the acquiescence of senior officers in the British Army in what Churchill bluntly called treason i.e. actions against the express wish of the elected British government and the King (p.188 ff.).

Hattersley shows how the partition of Ireland between an Irish nationalist south and west and a different entity in the Protestant north was originally one of many solutions proposed in the 1910s but slowly became the most favoured, how it was defined in different ways by different factions among the Unionists but within a few years had gained traction as the least bad option.

10. Votes for Women!

Female England awoke during the Edwardian era. (p.81)

Like the Ireland chapter this one goes back a few decades to background events, for example when Millicent Fawcett founded the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies in 1887. But the story comes to life when Hattersley gives us biographies of the leading campaigner Emmeline Pankhurst and her daughter Christabel (nicknamed by some papers ‘the Queen of the Mob’).

I knew the suffragettes were violent hooligans who used terrorist techniques (for example, sending letter bombs to leading politicians, p.220) but Hattersley’s account brings out how wilfully violent and destructive they were. Not only throwing bricks and tiles at the Prime Minister and other cabinet members, smashing their windows, vandalising their cars or trying to burn their houses down, slashing paintings in galleries, setting fire to postboxes, rampaging along Oxford Street and Regent Street smashing every shop window with hammers (p.219), spitting at and slapping policemen (p.207), but, when it was discovered some were practicing shooting, it was feared there would be active assassination attempts a la JFK (p.216). They also damaged quite a few works of art.

It was interesting to learn how many of them were lesbians or lived in unorthodox relationships (p.217). It is typical of Hattersley’s enjoyably gossipy approach to learn that the redoubtable Edwardian composer, Ethel Smyth (1858 to 1944), not only went to prison (2 months in Holloway) for smashing the Colonial Secretary’s windows, not only wrote the stirring suffragette anthem, ‘The March of the Women’, but fell passionately in love with (the married) Emmeline P, writing: ‘I knew that before long I would be her slave’ (p.217).

Did you know it was the Daily Mail which coined the word ‘suffragette’ as a term of mockery and abuse but which the activists then adopted with pride and we have used ever since? (p.209)

But the biggest thing that struck me was the reason many Liberal and Labour politicians opposed women’s suffrage wasn’t the principle of the thing, which most approved of – it was fear of its practical consequences.

It had taken decades of fraught negotiation for the existing male electorate to come into being and it still excluded some 5 million men from the vote (always forgotten in this context). Some Labour and Liberals were against women’s suffrage because they knew that the vote would probably, at least at first, only be extended to better-off women who would promptly vote Conservative.

In other words, giving middle-class women the vote (the most feasible strategy) risked destroying radical and progressive politics in Britain for a generation (p.218). It was a cogent and powerful argument, even if making it earned you a slap in the face from Christabel Pankhurst.

In 1912 and ’13 and ’14 bills were drafted to extend the franchise, to which greater or lesser measures of female suffrage were added, and which variously passed or failed in the Commons or in Committee stage but everyone accepted that suffrage was going to happen sooner or later. And then the Great War broke out, putting any further development on the women question – as with Irish independence – on hold but making some sort of solution inevitable once the fighting had finished.

In fact it was before the war ended (in November 1918) that, in January 1918, the Representation of the People Act was passed, giving the vote to men aged over 21, whether or not they owned property, and to women aged over 30 who occupied land or premises with a rateable value above £5, or whose husbands did, thus extending the local government franchise to include women aged over 21 on the same terms as men. As a result of the Act, the male electorate was extended by 5.2 million to 12.9 million and the female electorate went from 0 to 8.5 million, or 2 in 5 adult women.

(It was not until the Representation of the People (Equal Franchise) Act 1928 that women gained full electoral equality with men, the act giving the vote to all women aged over 21, regardless of any property qualification, adding another five million women to the electorate.)

Since 1928 there have been 24 general elections, of which Labour have won 10. From the little research I’ve done, until recently women voters on the whole voted Conservative although that has changed recently (see article on gender divide in general election voting).

11. United We Stand (the trade unions)

The complicated history of trade unions in the Edwardian era. The Taff Vale train dispute case of 1901 recognised trade unions as legal entities but this was the opposite of a Good Thing for it meant that employers could now take trade unions to court if it could be proved that strikes or picketing had adversely affected their business. And not just claim compensation from union funds but sue individual union officials into the bargain (pp.222 to 224).

Hattersley explains that the Trade Union Congress and most unions had regarded politics as peripheral to their core activities of protecting members and campaigning for better pay and conditions, But the potentially crippling implications of the Taff Vale case made them all realise they needed representation in Parliament to defend their interests.

So this chapter traces the earliest history of the Independent Labour Party (founded 1893), the Labour Representation Committee (founded 1900) and its early luminaries, particularly the two key figures of Keir Hardie and Ramsay MacDonald. This leads up to the foundation of the Labour Party proper in 1906, which broke through in that year’s January general election to win 29 seats on 4.8% of the vote (p.234).

Of course Hattersley’s lifelong involvement with the Labour Party, most notably as deputy leader under Neil Kinnock from 1983 to 1992, gives him unprecedented insight into Labour’s traditions and contemporary working. As such it is more than ordinarily interesting when he writes that the party – ‘then, as now, despised theory’, ‘more interested in practice than theory’ – has always been a very soft-left party with little or no theoretical underpinning (p.237).

In fact, the book is sprinkled with asides which sound like the wisdom of practical experience in the field, wry familiarity with the quirks and foibles of Parliamentary politics:

  • [Balfour] took refuge in the expedient employed by uncertain prime ministers down the ages… (p.131)
  • The TUC, always happy to accept half a loaf, was delighted… (p.152)
  • It was a tactic the Tory party was to employ time and time again in an attempt to obstruct the work of elected governments. (p.158)
  • General elections are rarely fought on issues of the parties’ choice… (p.167)
  • Speakers’ judgements on such matters are rarely challenged with success… (p.220)
  • Like so many private members bills it was then buried at the Committee stage and forgotten. (p.231)
  • The new Labour members, euphoric as new members always are… (p.234)
  • The Select Committee Inquiry endorsed the status quo as Select Committee Inquiries often do. (p.282)
  • Select Committees of the House of Commons usually contain one or two Members whose enthusiasm outruns their discretion. (p.457)

Back to the Labour party, it was somehow symbolic that the party’s first leader and Moses, the illegitimate, poorly educated Scotsman, Keir Hardie, made powerful speeches about injustice but knew nothing about economics and had very few practical policies for bringing about the ideal world he depicted in his rousing speeches. Plus ça change…

The detailed series of legal cases which hampered then liberated the Edwardian trade unions, with the explanation of Liberal party support, the advent of the new Labour Party MPs, and the trend for the sometimes very small unions to amalgamate into huge mega-unions based on a specific trade (mining, railwaymen etc) all give a strong sense of a social movement emerging from legal, political and financial weakness, to staking its claim to become a major component of British domestic history for the rest of the century.

12. Useful Members of the Community (education)

It was quite an eye-opener to learn that the central issue in trying to improve education in this country, from 1870s till the 1900s, was religion. To be precise, the majority of schools were run by the Church of England so when any government tried to set up a state-run, nationwide system of primary schools, it had to address two massive problems: 1) the Church of England’s powerful concerns that reforms would mean it losing its influence over the nation’s youth; and 2) the vehement opposition of non-conformists, who strongly objected to Anglican schools being subsidised by their local taxes.

Some non-conformists refused to pay their local taxes under the new system introduced in 1902 and were prepared to go to prison to defend the principle. In fact, the provisions for local authority funding of schools antagonised the large non-conformist community so much that this issue alone goes a long way to explaining why the Tories, who’d brought the Act in, were slaughtered in the 1906 election.

Everyone knew that Britain needed to bring its education system up to the standards of Germany (many British educationists had toured Germany and had realised the German system was way better than ours – just like their industries, businesses, health and welfare systems were streets ahead of ours, p.465). This chapter is a good example of the yawning gulf between political theory and practice; of the way a really simple aim and intention which most of the political class agreed on, could end up requiring endless, torturous negotiations, drafts and redrafts, defeats in the House of Commons and Lords, and so on, before a half-workable compromise finally gets passed.

Just working through the battle of vested interests and the hangover of historic structures and organisations in this one area, education, helps you understand why so many aspects of Britain’s social and economic structure are so compromised, messy, half-cocked and inefficient.

It was also the era when the Workers Education Association was founded (1908), the northern universities received their charters (Birmingham 1900, Manchester and Liverpool 1903, Leeds 1904, Sheffield 1905).

In a parallel stream, the wildly successful Boy Scout movement was founded by General Robert Baden-Powell, hero of the siege of Mafeking, the first camp being on Brownsea Island in 1907. One of the small group of men who founded a movement which they lived to see sweep the world.

13. Ideas Enter the Drawing Room (theatre)

Drawing room drama replaced by theatre of ideas, copying abroad (as usual), in this case Ibsen, and our own provocateur George Bernard Shaw (‘the most famous iconoclast and atheist of his age’, p.370). But first Hattersley conscientiously gives us the owners of London theatres, the price of tickets in London and the provinces, the lives of the great actor managers (Irving) and leading ladies (Ellen Terry, Mrs Patrick Campbell), the quality of middle-brown ‘respectable’ drawing room drama, the advent of musical comedy epitomised by the success of The Merry Widow.

And then the fight against the state censor of plays, the Lord Chamberlain, led by John Galsworthy who, according to Wikipedia:

became known for plays with a social message, reflecting, among other themes, the struggle of workers against exploitation, the use of solitary confinement in prisons, the repression of women, jingoism and the politics and morality of war.

With mention of the plays of Harley Granville-Barker, The Voysey Inheritance and Waste. Throw in the works of George Bernard Shaw and that’s quite a lot of plays about contemporary issues.

But the decade contained the seeds of change. The 1900s saw the first displays of moving pictures and by 1910 buildings had opened devoted to the showing of moving pictures, much more immediate and much cheaper than even the cheapest musical comedy and variety.

14. Literature Comes Home (Edwardian literature)

With the death of Aubrey Beardsley and the imprisonment of Oscar Wilde the Aesthetic Movement petered out. Hattersley quotes Yeats, pre-eminent poet of the Celtic Twilight and then Irish nationalist movement, remarking that around 1900 ‘Everyone got down off their stilts’. The trouble with overviews of the literature by historians or politicians is that they are not professional literary experts, and so they tend to make the obvious points in the obvious ways, writing the same opinions as a thousand other ‘histories of literature’. So: with the end of the Boer War Kipling moved to Britain, settled in Sussex and radically changed his subject matter from tales of the dry and dusty hills of India to stories about England, Puck of Pook’s Hill and the like. The Poet Laureate Alfred Austin and Sir Henry Newbolt supplied a continuation of Kiplingesque patriotic poems but without the subtlety.

If you’re looking for a common thread among the poets it is probably different flavours of patriotism, from Newbolt at the jingo end, through Robert Bridges, GK Chesterton, young Rupert Brooke, and then a flotilla of minor figures, each with one or two anthology poems – Walter de la Mare, John Masefield, poets who would be gathered together in the Georgian anthologies of 1912 and subsequent years.

Hattersley makes the dubiously journalistic claim that one ‘great’ novel was published each year:

1900 – The Way of All Flesh by Butler, Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad

1901 – Kim by Rudyard Kipling

1902 – The Wings of the Dove by Henry James

1903 – The Ambassadors by Henry James

1904 – The Golden Bowl by Henry James, Nostromo by Joseph Conrad

1905 – Where Angels Fear to Tread by EM Foster, Kipps by H.G. Wells

1906 – The Man of Property by John Galsworthy

1907 – The Secret Agent by Joseph Conrad

1908 – The Old Wives Tale by Arnold Bennett, A Room with a View by E.M. Foster

1909 – Tono-Bungay and Ann Veronica by H.G. Wells

1910 – Howard’s End by EM Foster, The History of Mr Polly by H.G. Wells, Clayhanger by Arnold Bennett

The New Woman was a recurring theme in fiction and a flurry of woman writers, admittedly popular writers, such as Maria Corelli, Baroness Orczy, Ethel M Dell, Elinor Glyn, children’s writers Frances Hodgson Burnett, E. Nesbit and Beatrix Potter.

What emerges from Hattersley’s brisk review is a sense of an emerging, educated, intelligent middle class, of the rise and rise of the New Woman, of the lives of working people described with a new seriousness, in Wells and Bennett up to a point, but with sensitivity and insight of genius in the novels of DH Lawrence who emerged just at the end of the period (Sons and Lovers, 1913).

15. The End of Innocence (sport)

With increased leisure time, caused in part by government legislation limiting working hours, went the growth of sport: football, cricket, tennis, athletics, rugby league and union, were all put on a more professional basis, paid, and new stadiums and halls built to accommodate growing crowds. Sport became business. London hosted the 1908 Olympic games. The conflict between gentlemen and players, based on snobbery and a wish to keep the classes distinct i.e. gentlemen unsullied by commerce. The first celebrity sportsmen such as Bob Crompton of Blackburn Rovers and W.G. Grace. The aim of gentlemen, in sport as in every other aspect of life, was to demonstrate ‘effortless superiority’. Contemporary commentary is littered with words like ‘chivalry’ and ‘honour’, words associated with the medieval ruling class. The MCC and other sporting bodies, like the House of Lords, could be relied on to resist the encroachment of commercialisation i.e. working class players being paid, for as long as possible.

Meanwhile in other nations, such as America, sportsmen specialised in one game and practiced intensively, sometimes with the support of a ‘coach’ (p.323). Or the advent of American jockeys who used a new posture, ‘the forward seat’, to win (p.331). In sport, as in industry and commerce Britain’s addiction to amateurism, hobbled by class war, condemned it to long-term mediocrity.

Horse racing has always relied on gambling. In 1906 the government tried to regulate it. In 1908 the sport established a new definition of ‘thoroughbred’, mainly with a view to excluding the threat from American-bred winners.

Surprisingly, given the general chauvinism, women progressed in two sports, gold and tennis, although these remained robustly middle class (as they are to this day). Popular men’s sports, on the other hand, steadily became more working class, football and rugby union being two examples, and boxing, the longest establishment popular sport.

Hunting, of course, remained the preserve of the aristocratic elite, surrounded by all manner of preposterous traditions, like chivalry ultimately dating back to the Norman conquest and subjugation of Saxon serfs. As a Saxon serf I have all my life cordially despised the aristocrats who subtly or not so subtly have asserted their superiority over me, John Buchan’s Lord Leithen, Siegfried Sassoon in his memoirs. No surprise that the resistance to Asquith and Lloyd George’s People’s Budget in the House of Lords was led by fox-hunting aristocrats like Willoughby de Broke (with his floridly Norman name). They were, and are, the class enemy.

So many of these social aspects remind me of what H.G. Wells in Tono-Bungay calls the Bladesover system, the way English society was structured around the grand houses of the landed aristocracy in the 17th and 18th centuries, with a constellation of professions (lawyers, doctors, bankers and brokers) servicing them, and had provided the social, cultural, mental and even geographic structure of Britain up till his own time, the only change being the stepping of new businessmen or financiers into various places as the actual aristocracy became defunct, but everyone working to keeping these archaic structures of thought and ceremonial in place. ‘The new middle class hunters wanted to conform…’ (p.337)

I was forced to play lots of sports at school: I disliked cricket because of the boredom and snobbery, really disliked rugby because of the sadistic pleasure big boys took in stomping everyone else, quite liked hockey because there was little physical contact and some skill, really liked rowing especially sculling because you could disappear down the river on your own; and in breaks played football on the tarmac playground, often with small tennis-sized balls.

16. Gerontius Awakes (art, architecture, music)

Another portmanteau chapter, which is interesting enough but feels like a dutiful ticking of obvious boxes. In 1901 commenced the redesign of the Mall from the statue of Victoria (1901) to Admiralty Arch (1911).

John Singer Sargent was friends with Monet but eschewed foreign experimentalism and made himself the Reynolds (i.e. the highly paid portrait painter of the rich) of his day. Hattersley quotes the avant-garde art critic Roger Fry describing Sargent as: ‘as gentle as a man as he was striking and undistinguished as an illustrator and non-existent as an artist’ (p.358), one of the few moments which ruffles the stolid flow of Hattersley’s dutiful nods to all the obvious greats.

The great composer of the day was Edward Elgar, condemned for ever to be remembered for his Pomp and Circumstance marches, written 1901 to 1907. ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ took music from one of the marches and incorporated words by A. C. Benson in 1902. Notes on Delius, Holst (lots of folk songs, St Paul’s suite 1912), Percy Grainger and the young Vaughan Williams (The Lark Ascending 1914). A little later, in 1916, Hubert Parry would set Jerusalem to music. Celebrations of Englishness comparable to the very English settings of Foster, Wells, Saki, Kipling in Pook’s Hill mode and all those Georgian poets.

Architecture characterised by the Edwardian Baroque. Edwin Lutyens, Giles Gilbert Scott and, in Scotland, Charles Rennie Mackintosh. The influence of Alfred Waterhouse on commissions of large public buildings. The Ritz Hotel. The RAC club in Pall Mall. Royal London House, Finsbury Square. Westminster Cathedral (John F. Bentley).

The garden suburb movement, Ebenezer Howard. Letchworth. Hampstead. the prophets thought it would appeal to all classes but like all high-minded movements it attracted the professional middle classes.

The Camden Town school of art, correlative of Zola’s naturalism. Yuk.

In 1910 Grafton art gallery hosted an exhibition of recent French painting (Gauguin, Matisse) which caused a scandal. The critic Roger Fry could only think to label them all post-impressionists, an unsatisfactory label which has stuck (p.356). It highlighted the philistinism of the ruling class and the sensationalising vulgar sensationalising of the press, led by the Times.

The first Futurist manifesto 1909, the second one 1910. Committed to replicating the machine energy of the age.

17. Would You Believe It? (philosophy and religion)

Summary of G.E. Moore’s Principia Ethica which had such a dynamite impact on the Bloomsbury Group. Hattersley summarises it as claiming that morality is relative, changes according to time and place. This was perceived by the Bloomsburies as a huge liberation from Christian morality which insists that moral values are universal and (incidentally), strict and repressive. Moore gave them a theory which underpinned their already existing practice of passionate friendships and cliques. And non-traditional sexual relations i.e. gays and lesbians and other genders in between. Hattersley tags on a brisk explanation of Bertrand Russell’s work on sets and categories, explaining that both Moore and Russell were anti-Christian. From the heights of academia came an attack on the ideology Oxbridge was invented to guard. Backtracking a bit to The Golden Bough, the pioneering work of anthropology which theorised that all human societies progress from pagan polytheism through monotheism and finally achieve the objective rational thought of science.

The life and extraordinary discoveries of New Zealander Ernest Rutherford i.e. discovering that the atom is not the smallest unit of matter but is itself made up of component parts.

Second half of the chapter is about the Christian churches: the part erection of the Catholic Westminster Cathedral; the divisions in the Church of England between High Church at one end and Modernists seeking to reconcile the creed with all the discoveries of science, at the other; the Methodists and other nonconformists. No mention of Jews, Muslims etc…

18. Hardihood, Endurance and Courage

There were four Polar expeditions during the Edwardian decade. Hattersley describes in detail all four of them: Scott’s first 1902-3, Shackleton’s in 1907-8, Scott’s second in 1910-12, Shackleton’s second 1914.

Scott’s diary and the example of Oates are routinely trotted out as examples of British pluck, but reading any account impresses you more with the bad decisions, bad planning, lack of resources and shambolic amateurishness of the attempt. When you read that some of Scott’s companions questioned the quality of the horses and provisions before they even set sail but decided to defer to their captain and social superiority’s judgement (p.406), you hear the genuine voice of deference to idiots which led Britain to near disaster in the Boer War and to catastrophe in the First World War.

Plus the amazing adventures in Central Asia of Marc Aurel Stein, archaeologist of Buddhism (pages 396 to 397), and Colonel Sir Francis Younghusband’s expedition up from British India to Tibet (394 and 5).

19. Halfpenny Dreadful (newspapers)

Riveting chapter about the explosion of newspapers, magazines and journals at the end of the nineteenth century, and the creation of a particular type of populist paper at the turn of the century, focusing on the career of Alfred Harmsworth, later made 1st Viscount Northcliffe (1865 to 1922), creator of the Daily Mail (in 1896) and the Daily Mirror. His career is set against George Newnes’s creation of Tit-Bits magazine in 1881. Newnes mentored and trained a generation of journalists in what came to be called The New Journalism. Harmsworth was one, another was Cyril Arthur Pearson, who founded the Daily Express in 1900.

Hattersley says there were two types of New Journalism, one which aimed to report politics and the news but in a much more accessible format than the solid wall of prose of The Times; and the other sort which didn’t care about serious news at all and was packed with trivia and celebrities.

How with the outbreak of the Boer War, Harmsworth deliberately made the Daily Mail the newspaper of empire, the jingo paper, taking an attitude of unremitting criticism of the (Conservative) government for its comprehensive mismanagement of the war, thus letting our boys down.

Between 1866 when the Companies Act eased the rules of limited liability and 1914 4,000 newspaper companies were formed in London and the provinces. Between 1900 and 1914 ten evening newspapers tried their luck in London.

I didn’t know the Daily Mirror was set up in 1903 to target women readers, had an all-women staff and a woman editor. It only lasted a year. In the end the chapter is all about Harmsworth and ends with his mounting campaign to warn the government about the dire military and naval threat from Germany. Interestingly, he became obsessed with German interest in the very new technology of flying, which he thought the British Army was ignoring.

20. The Shape of Things To Come (new technologies)

Britain pioneered the canal and the steam railway but was badly behind by the time the two next transport innovations came long, electric trams and motor cars. The Americans and Germans pioneered electric tram cars in the 1850s. It took 50 years for them to appear on British streets. And the Germans, French and Italians were all ahead of us in car design. Where had all the engineers gone? And the investors willing to take a punt?

The 1900 Century Road Race to publicise cars (whose diminished legacy is the annual London to Brighton race). Henry Royce the engineer and Charles Rolls the salesman, a partnership made in heaven. the company went from strength to strength, but Rolls used his share of the profits to invest in airplanes. Lord Northcliffe took up the cause of air flight in The Daily Mail and offered prizes for manned flights across the Channel and from London to Manchester. He was taken for a flight by Orville Wright.

Senior politicians became interested. Louis Bleriot won the prize for crossing the Channel in 1909. Northcliffe arranged a reception at the Savoy and Bleriot’s plane was exhibited at Selfridge’s.

The great race from London to Manchester between plucky Brit Claude Graham-White who, of course, lost to his French rival Louis Paulhan. More competitions followed. Charles Rolls was killed in one (12 July 1910).

Ships: a thorough look at Royal Navy shipbuilding, first the companies and yards around Britain, then the revolutionary introduction of turbine-driven ships in the early 1900s. Commercial liners and the construction of the two huge ships the Mauretania and Lusitania. The Blue Riband competition for crossing the Atlantic fastest. The White Star Line commissions two huge superliners to be named the Olympic and the Titanic. On 14 April 1912 on her maiden voyage the Titanic hit an iceberg in mid-Atlantic and sank, drowning 1,515 people.

The chapter begins to free associate because as it sank, the Titanic sent desperate SOSs out by the newish technology of radio, being picked up by the Carpathia which steamed to the rescue, arriving 80 minutes after Titanic sank and rescuing 700 souls. Impressive technology.

And it leads Hattersley into an account of the scandal of government officials trading in shares on Marconi’s Wireless company as other members of the government were awarding the company the contract to build the Imperial Wireless Chain agreed by the 1911 Imperial Conference. Muck-raking scandal. Accusations of libel. Court cases. Commission of inquiry etc.

Epilogue: The Summer Ends in August

A recap of the very bad personal relationship between Edward VII and his sister’s son (i.e. nephew) Kaiser Wilhelm II, starting with the latter gatecrashing the elaborate ceremonial surrounding the funeral of Victoria. Wilhelm comes over as a tactless idiot, for example the interview insulting Britain he gave to the ‘New York World’ while he was a guest in Britain.

It broadens out to become quite a detailed account of the political, diplomatic and military build up to the outbreak of the Great War, seen exclusively through the prism of British-German relations, and more narrowly still, the erratic, angry, aggrieved behaviour of Wilhelm. It’s a sequence of events, featuring the Entente Cordiale, the naval arms race, the building of the Dreadnoughts, the Agadir and Fashoda crises, and the two Balkan wars, which was drummed into me at school for my history GCSE.

As to one of the most over-determined events in global history, Hattersley’s take is that Germany was determined on war by 1913 i.e. none of it was accidental. Germany had collected almost all her foreign debts while leaving her creditors waiting so that the Bundesbank held record gold reserves. Woodrow Wilson’s emissary to Europe, Colonel House, toured the capitals and reported back that the German Army was determined to attack and conquer France according to the Schlieffen Plan before turning on Russia. According to Hattersley Germany was just waiting for a pretext and the Serbian terrorists supplied it.


Politicians

Tory Prime Minister Arthur Balfour, ‘the most influential Tory in Edwardian England’, was languid and ineffectual, ‘personified the dedicated dilettante’ (p.84).

Joseph Chamberlain was a Unitarian by birth and a troublemaker by nature. (p.255)

Radical Joe Chamberlain banged the drum for a more imperialist foreign policy. He was one of the loudest supporters for the catastrophically mismanaged Boer War (1899 to 1902) in which some 20,000 women and children died in Britain’s concentration camps (p.99; described at length in chapter 5; incompetence p.90).

Chamberlain went on to aggressively support the idea of an imperial customs union, more to bind the empire together than for the economics. The widely reported fact that such a union would almost certainly increase the cost of foodstuffs helped the Conservatives lose the 1906 general election by a landslide (chapter 6: ‘A preference for Empire’).

Two new young stars lead the Liberal government, pro-Boer, anti-imperial, anti-establishment David Lloyd George, and temporary radical Liberal, Winston Churchill.

I was surprised at just how radical Lloyd George was: he told suffragettes that if women had the vote there’d be none of these stupid wars; he declared India would never be properly governed till it was given its independence (p.102).

Issues

Edwardian society was riven by disputes about: the Boer War; imperial tariff reform; the controversial 1902 Education Act; votes for women; Irish Home Rule. The 1906 Liberal government went on, in 1909, to propose a Budget designed to raise taxes on the rich and landowners in order to fund radical social reform, namely the provision of old age pensions, national insurance and unemployment benefit. When the bastion of privilege, the House of Lords, rejected the bill, it led to a constitutional crisis in which the Liberals called and won two elections in 1910, and persuaded King Edward to threaten the Lords with creating hundreds of Liberal peers who would flood the Lords and ensure the budget went through (570, to be precise, p.168) . In order to avoid this outcome the Lords voted reluctantly to pass the budget.

Poverty

If you like social history and poverty porn, chapter 4: ‘The Condition of England’ is entirely devoted to the appalling poverty revealed by the many reports, studies and surveys published during the 1890s and 1900s, which lay behind Lloyd George’s righteous anger and his and Churchill’s radical proposals to improve the lives of the poor. Millions of Britons lived in squalid one-room shacks or tenements, slept in the same beds, didn’t have enough money to feed or clothe themselves. A 1904 report concluded that about a third of all British children went hungry every day.

The theme is renewed in chapter 7: ‘Uniting the nation’, a thorough description of the 1906 Liberal government’s attempts to develop social policies, and includes the fascinating factoid that William Beveridge, the young Oxford social scientist, was sent to Germany to learn what he could about their system of national insurance, unemployment benefit, labour exchanges and so on. Here, as in so many other things, we copied the more advanced Europeans (p.465).

International rivalry

One of the leading anxieties of the age was fear of international competition, economic and military. As anyone with a passing interest in history knows, the Edwardian period was obviously one of increasing rivalry and tension between the great powers of Europe, who developed a network of alliances and pacts which, when triggered by the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo on 28 June 1914, fell like dominoes to trigger the First World War.

Whether this sequence of events was ‘inevitable’, whether the war was the inevitable result of commercial and imperial rivalries, or of the alliance system, or of the creation of a large ambitious German state in the centre of Europe, or, on the contrary, was the result of a handful of miscalculations and misunderstandings, the kind of spats which had been defused and managed in the past and could easily have been defused and resolved in this instance, are issues which have kept, and will keep, historians happily occupied till the end of civilisation.

As to the commercial rivalries, it is probably a little less known among the general population than the First World War but, again, anyone with an interest in modern history knows that by around 1900 Britain had been definitively overtaken in terms of production and gross domestic product by its main rivals, Germany and America (pages 67, 109, 465). Only Britain’s ‘invisible’ exports of financial and banking services, largely to the colonies, kept Britain’s balance of payments from being in the red, based on the fact that the pound sterling was the global currency of choice (p.68). That and the large amount of goods we were able to sell to protected colonial markets, the most important of which was India.

It was this commercial anxiety which explains the appeal to many businessmen, politicians and commentators of Joseph Chamberlain’s impassioned campaign for an imperial customs union from 1903 (described at inordinate length in chapter 6: ‘A preference for Empire’). Joe wanted:

to make the empire a worldwide customs union which was held together by bonds of trade as well as the ties of history. (p.111)

Hattersley gives us an eventually mind-numblingly detailed account, not of the policy itself, but of the extraordinarily complicated political manoeuvring it triggered within the Conservative cabinet, 1902 to 1905. All of which proved pretty pointless because tariff reform, like everything else the Tories stood for, was swept away in the Liberal landslide election of January 1906, and soon afterwards Chamberlain himself suffered a crippling stroke (July 1906) and was forced to withdraw from public life.

Speed of change

Like so many historians of this era, Hattersley lists the dramatic advances made in practical technology (electric lights, the early telephone, bicycles, the swift spread of the motor car), in science (X-rays, radioactivity) and theoretical physics (no history of the period is complete without perfunctory reference to the world-shaking theories of Einstein and Freud) without really conveying their social impact. They are listed but not really assessed…

The endurance of deep structural issues

As regular readers of this blog know, one of the things which strikes me most about reading history or old novels is the continual reminder that problems, issues or ideas which we like to think of as new and exciting but have in fact been around for over a century. And the fact that they’ve been around for so long strongly suggests they are somehow hard-wired into the human condition or into the societies we inhabit.

Thus when you read about politicians’ and businessmen’s and commentators’ anxiety about Britain’s technological and industrial failings, and about the poor shape of British education compared to leading rivals on the continent (Germany, the Scandinavian countries) being expressed in 1901, and realise exactly the same sentiments are common now, one hundred and twenty years later, it can’t help but make you wonder whether these kind of issues are too deeply engrained in British society ever to be changed.

This came over when reading the chapter about the challenge facing Edwardian politicians of trying to solve the very widespread and horrifying poverty, ill health and pitiful life expectancy of the poor of their time. The debate about the ‘deserving’ and ‘undeserving’ poor, about whether the poor bear any responsibility for their poverty or are victims of a system which chews them up and spits them out as it requires, about how much financial help the state should give the unemployed, destitute and long-term, sick, what kind of support the unemployed need to get into work, debates about trying to improve basic wages – all these are debates we are still having today. And that, in my opinion, is because we still live under the kind of laissez fair (nowadays called neo-liberal) capitalist economic system that the Edwardians lived under.

This really came into focus when I searched the internet to find out more about ‘The Condition of England’, a searing indictment of Edwardian Britain published in 1909, by Charles Masterman, radical Liberal Party politician and intellectual (discussed by Hattersley on pages 65 and 66).

On the internet I came across an article about it written in 2009 by David Selbourne, ‘political philosopher, social commentator and historian of ideas’, in the New Statesman. Selbourne highlights the issues raised in Masterman’s book solely to reflect on how little has changed in the subsequent 100 years, these issues being:

  • the Edwardian period was one of astonishing technological change (telegraphs, telephones, electricity, bombs and aeroplanes)
  • yet ‘moral progress’ had not kept up with material growth, and the ever-growing wealth of some, their ‘vulgarised plutocracy’, ‘extravagance’ and ‘ostentation’ went hand in hand with gross poverty and ‘monstrous inequality’
  • between the super-rich and the immiserated poor lie what Masterman termed the ‘suburbans’, members of the commercial and business classes, respectable but ‘lacking in ideas’, comfortable in villas with ‘well-trimmed gardens’, perpetually complaining about being ‘over-taxed’, hostile to the Labour Party, objecting to welfare for ‘loafers’ – what Disraeli in the 1870s called ‘villa Toryism’, the basis of the Daily Mail reading class which is still so powerful today
  • Masterman complains that he lived in a society dominated by money, ‘organised on a money basis, with everything else a side-show’; ‘the people in England and America’ are ‘writhing in the grasp of a money power more and more in the hands of enormous corporations’, a complaint you read every day in 2024
  • Masterman sees religion as becoming ‘irrelevant to the business of the day’ which has, probably, been true for decades
  • Masterman sees the institution of the Family ‘breaking in pieces’ under the strain of daily existence
  • Masterman complains about the ‘vacuous vulgarity’ of the ‘cheap and sensational press’ which actively deceives and excites their mass readership, betraying its duty to the truth
  • as for ‘socialism’, Masterman claims there is little real interest in it; whereas the rich may ‘lie awake at night listening fearfully to the tramp of the rising host’, then as now, the ‘people’ has far more pressing issues on its mind: ‘how to get steady work, the iniquities of the “foreigner” and… which football eleven will attain supremacy in some particular league’
  • and the Labour Party? ‘They may perhaps stand for the working man in opinion’, says Masterman, but ‘the majority of them are certainly remote from him in characteristic’, while ‘a Labour leader, if successful, tends to become conservative’
  • Masterman even complains about the ‘strange mediocrity’, the poor quality of British leaders in ‘high positions in church and state’, something I read about in the press almost every day

In other words, Masterman’s analysis of Britain 1909 can appear, at first glance, like an astonishing anticipation of Britain 2021, except that… it isn’t, as I so often insist, an anticipation: It is an indication of how much hasn’t changed in a century and surely a demonstration of the deep economic and social structures which make up England, which are not somehow extraneous to English society, which are not additional extras which can be easily tweaked if only we elected the right politicians – but which make up the fundamental essence of English society and the English character.

Errors

A couple of errors leaped out at me. George Eliot’s novel ‘Middlemarch’ was not published in 1891-2 (p.308) but 1871-2, and General Gordon was not killed in Khartoum in 1865 (p.341) but 1885. The Russian Revolution did not take place in 1916 (p.359). The Christian states of the Balkans did not form a secret alliance in 1914 (p.475) but in 1912 on the eve of the First Balkan War.

Maybe the proofreader had become as overwhelmed with factoids as I felt.

Conclusion

Most of this is familiar – not necessarily a lot of the details, but certainly the general shape of all the issues. The book is packed with information but the reader gets to the very end and discovers that they really haven’t learned that much. The Edwardian decade was an era of rapid social, cultural and technological change and fraught with a number of political crises? Well, which decade of the twentieth century wasn’t?

Gaps

Having made it to the end of this 480-page marathon one glaring omission stood out – the British Empire. There should have been a chapter about the empire, probably divided into white and non-white i.e. a summary of political and economic developments in Canada-Australia-New Zealand; and then ditto for the non-white colonies starting with India (the partition of Bengal, the founding of the Muslim League) and then Africa (for example, the amalgamation of various colonies into Nigeria), maybe others in the Caribbean or elsewhere. The book was only published 20 years ago but already, with our greater than ever awareness of imperial sins, and the relentless multiculturalisation of Britain, this feels like a glaring absence.


Credit

The Edwardians by Roy Hattersley was published by Little Brown in 2004. All references are to the 2007 Abacus paperback edition.

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