On 22 August 1922, the most idolised and arguably most controversial leader in modern Irish history, Irish republican and revolutionary leader Michael Collins, was killed in a sudden ambush. The son of a tenant farmer,he was born on 16 October 1890 in Sam’s Cross, West Cork. the youngest of eight children . Collins or “the big fellow” as he was nicknamed, had what by most accounts a happy childhood. Educated at Lisavaird and Clonakilty national schools, young Michael was precocious and intelligent, and while there were some early influences that piqued his interest in Irish nationalism, it was, ironically, his move to London when he was 15, in 1906 ,joining his sister Hannie Collins (1879-1971) that lit the flame of Irish republicanism within him.
He was subsequently employed by a firm of stockbrokers in the City of London, and finally as a clerk in a post office, a position that gave the young and energetic Collins the organisational skills he would eventually draw upon to change the course of history. Like many Irish in London to this day, he played Gaelic football and he was involved in the Gaelic Athletic Association, a hobby that led him to rub shoulders with figures from the clandestine Irish Republican Brotherhood.
He was sworn into the Irish Republican (or Fenian) Brotherhood (IRB) in 1909 by his fellow post office worker Sam Maguire, and went on to become treasurer of the IRB for London and South England.. On April 25th 1914, Collins cousin Sean Hurley enrolled him into the No. 1 company of the London Irish Volunteers.
Upon hearing of the planned Easter Rising, Collins returned to Dublin in January 1916 to take part in the first and most significant armed conflict of the revolutionary period. He fought alongside other household names, including Patrick Pearse, James Connolly, and other members of the Rising top brass. The insurgents held their positions for the minimum time required to justify a claim to independence under international criteria, and so viewed it as a strategic win.
While the insurrection was put down after only six days, with the bulk of the leadership, and ninety men in total, sentenced to death .The executions turned the tide of Irish public opinion greatly against the British state,
Like the other ring leaders, Collins was arrested by plain clothes officers, or “G-men” from the Dublin Metropolitan Police and incarcerated. His arrest after the rebellion led to him being identified as a person who should be treated harshly, with the possibility of execution—but by a pure stroke of luck, he was accidentally transferred to Frongoch prison in North Wales.Famously dubbed the 'University of Revolution', the internment camp at Frongoch was the location where the IRA was formed and where s ignificant figures in the subsequent War of Independence, , trained internees in the tactics of guerrilla warfare. Here, while resented by some for his thrusting, still callow assertiveness, and his involvement in establishing an IRB circle in the camp, Collins began to emerge as one of the better-known figures in his revolutionary generation He remained as a Prisoner of War for several months before his release.
Michael Collins masterminded Eamon DeValera’s own escape from England’s Lincoln Prison, allowing DeValera to become Ireland’s first ‘Prime Minister’. Had the rebel not been accidentally transferred, Irish history would be very different indeed.
Shortly after his release in late 1916, Collins was appointed secretary of the Irish National Aid and Volunteer Dependants Fund. He became a member (and, it seems, President in 1919) of the reconstituted Supreme Council of the IRB. He was narrowly elected to the Sinn Féin executive in September 1917. He was appointed adjutant general of the reorganised Irish Volunteers (later known as the IRA). At the 1918 general election he was elected for Cork South. In April 1919, Collins was appointed Minister for Finance, and threw his remarkable organising energies into the organisation of the Dáil loan. By mid-year, he had also commandeered the position of IRA director of intelligence. His network of informants reached into Dublin Castle, giving the IRA an important advantage.
Collins, who contrived to remain at large, was centrally involved in the putting together of the “Squad”, whose initial purpose was to kill a number of plain-clothes detectives in the G division of the Dublin Military Police. The intention was to achieve an escalation of the conflict, to terrorise others within the Dublin Castle system, and to provoke a repressive response from the British authorities. The strategy achieved its culmination on “Bloody Sunday”, 21 November 1920, when a dozen special branch detectives were killed in their homes, prompting a massive backlash. It relied on after-events to give a vestige of credibility to Collins’ insistence that the IRA’s “organized and bold guerrilla warfare” was in self-defence. In what became known as the War of Independence, Collins was a superlative organiser rather than a commander in the field. Capable of utter ruthlessness, he sought to calibrate the deployment of violence in the attainment of a defined political end. Few revolutionaries were so alert to public opinion. Though apt to pose as primarily a fighter, he was a highly gifted and exuberantly charismatic politician.
After the truce of July 1921, Collins reluctantly participated in peace talks led by Arthur Griffith. These negotiations resulted in the Anglo-Irish Treaty, which granted Ireland Dominion status within the British Commonwealth. Collins was one of the plenipotentiaries in the Anglo-Irish Treaty negotiations. Conscious that the IRA was not in a position to withstand a full-scale British military onslaught, Collins came down on the side of the treaty, signed on 6 December 1921. He and Arthur Griffith (1872-1922), who called him “the man who won the war”, were the Treaty’s principal proponents.
However, the treaty divided the Republican movement, leading to a bitter dispute between those who accepted it, led by Collins, and those who rejected it, including Eamon de Valera. The acceptance of the treaty led to the outbreak of the Irish Civil War in 1922. Collins and Griffith worked tirelessly to enforce the treaty, but they faced opposition from armed Republicans who saw it as a betrayal. In June 1922, Collins resorted to force against the opposition, sparking a civil war that ended in May 1923.
Collins became chairman of the Provisional Government, and remained Minister for Finance. His various endeavours to avert military hostilities with the Treaty’s opponents, which exasperated Griffith, were unsuccessful. He and Richard Mulcahy (1886-1971) directed the military operations of the hastily constituted Irish Army.
On 12 July 1922, he made himself Commander-in-chief, the last of the extraordinary sequence of overlapping positions he was to hold. Sacrifices, alliances, and betrayals unimaginable weeks ago were routine in the new bloodbath of brother against brother. Despite these dangers, Collins believed he wasn't a credible target for Anti-Treaty Irregulars. especially in his native Cork.
He set off to inspect military installations in that beautiful, wild corner of the country. Perhaps he confused his hopes of reconciliation and renewal with the desires of the new domestic enemy.When the National Army Commandant Joe Sweeney warned against the tour, Collins replied, ''No one is going to shoot me in my county.'
On the morning, of 22 August 1922, Collins' open-top car and a small armoured motorcade with 15 men began their fateful drive from Cork City through West Cork. On their way, he also hoped to parley with anti-Treaty IRA volunteers. His whistle-stop route was to take them through Macroom, Bandon, Clonakilty, Rosscarbery, and Skibbereen. Collins makes a pit-stop at Long's pub, "The Diamond," looking for directions. It is here where Denny 'the Dane' Long, a lookout for anti-treaty leader Tom Hales, spotted the Big Fella. His travel plans to return through the crossroads area of Béal na mBláth were communicated back to base, and the trap was set. Around 7:45pm, Collins' cars return through the village of Béal na mBláth and into the jaws of the enemy. But the Anti-Treaty lads would not have it all their own way. The convoy was late, so many of the IRA columns had already dispersed from the hiding places. They had even begun to dismantle and move land mines they'd installed at the choke point road. However, the main obstruction, a dray cart blocking the path, was still on site.
Free State commander Dalton wanted to try and barge through the ambush, but Collins vaingloriously insisted they stay and fight. When the assassin's guns speak, they roar for almost half an hour. Collins and his guards left the open-top car and ran for cover at a ditch on the roadside, returning fire. Collins then broke this position and got behind one of his armoured where he began returning fire this time with his Lee Enfield rifle.
The armoured car was equipped with a Vickers machine gun, which started to riddle the anti-treaty position before promptly breaking down and jamming due to a badly loaded ammunition belt. Collins broke cover again, and it would be from this final position in the middle of the road that he would become the only real casualty of the ambush.
Collins is struck by a bullet in the head and dies instantly. just ten days after the death of Arthur Griffith. Whose bullet was it? Most historians believe it was fired by Denis "Sonny" O'Neill. He had been an officer in the Royal Irish Constabulary and a sniper during WW1 in the British Army before joining the IRA in 1918. But it's not certain.
Collins was brought back to his hometown, through road blockages and muddy fields, and at times carried by members of his convoy. His body was eventually laid to rest in City Hall by Dublin Castle.
Collins lay in state for three days. Tens of thousands of mourners filed past his coffin to pay their respects, including many British soldiers departing Ireland who had fought against him. His funeral mass took place at Dublin's St Mary's Pro-Cathedral where a number of foreign and Irish dignitaries were in attendance. Some 500,000 people attended his funeral, almost one-fifth of the country's population at that time. His remains rest in Glasnevin Cemetery. His final resting place is the most visited grave with flowers placed there daily by people from around the world.
His death at age 31 in an ambush on a country road deprived Ireland of a charismatic leader and changed the course of Irish history. His immense myth in contemporary Ireland continues to radiate beyond the remote valley not far from his birthplace in which he met his death and regularly emerges top of various popular polls to select the Irish public’s favourite figure from their history. Collins’s enduring popularity owes much to the circumstances which allow him to be portrayed as the handsome and youthful leader struck down in his prime.
Over a century after his death, he is a lightning rod for controversy, with his very name sparking a debate whenever politically minded Irishmen get together. Unlike other Irish historical figures who have largely receded into the past, his life and death remain subjects of fascination on a national scale, with radio and television documentaries, ficionalised dramatisations, and even multimedia spectacles dedicated to the scrutiny of his brief life and tragic death. Moreover, at least twenty biographies and biographical portraits, the majority of which have appeared in the twenty-first century, along with three dozen Collins-themed topical monographs, have debated his life and legacy, often highlighting the still-mysterious – and probably never to be conclusively resolved – questions about what transpired on his fateful last day.
Rumours have circulated widely since the 1920s, with little support from scholars, about the alleged involvement in Collins’s death of Ireland’s most notable politician, Eamon de Valera, leader of Ireland for more than twenty years, including serving sixteen years as Taoiseach of Ireland. He and Collins were strong republicans and close comrades ever since the Easter Rising of 1916 who worked closely together until the Irish Civil War of 1922-23 set them against each other as the leaders of opposing factions. One established historian and strong partisan of Collins who believes that “Dev” was actually his diabolical enemy is T. Ryle Dwyer, though he stops short in Michael Collins and the Civil War (2012) of finding him guilty of any direct involvement in Collins’s death. Nonetheless, Dwyer leaves the reader with the impression that de Valera was a rival who envied Collins’s mystique and charismatic appeal – and who certainly could have harboured motives to eliminate him once the civil war began, whereupon “General Collins” assumed command of the opposing pro-Treaty forces.
Revised and updated in light of emergent scholarship in 2016, Tim Pat Coogan’s The Man Who Made Ireland: The Life and Death of Michael Collins, which after three decades in print still stands as the best biography in an estimable field, is also severe in its overall assessment of de Valera’s relationship to Collins, accusing him of “vindictiveness and pettiness”, though he firmly rejects the idea that de Valera played any role in the ambush Coogan’s judgments are rendered especially authoritative in view of the fact that he has also authored another stellar full-length biography, Eamon de Valera: The Man Who Was Ireland, where he writes that to “assert his ascendancy over colleagues […] and secure dominance over Collins in particular” became one of de Valera’s top three political goals during the war years, along with “keep[ing] control over the Irish Americans” and “taking over the reins of the peace process and work[ing] himself into a favourable negotiating position with the British”
Like other biographers, Coogan notes that Collins risked his life to spring de Valera from a London prison and then braved even greater perils during strict curfews to make weekly visits to Dev’s family during the latter’s eighteen-month absence to the U.S. during the Anglo-Irish War (1919-21), which the Irish typically refer to as the War of Independence.
Neil Jordan’s epic film Michael Collins (1996) depicts the life and death of one of Ireland’s most important revolutionary leaders at the beginning of the 20th century. Opening with the Easter Week rebellion of 1916, the film highlights Collins new strategies for securing the independence of Ireland, his signing of the Anglo-Irish Treaty in December 1921 and the ensuing Civil War which was to cost him his life.
Despite his relatively short political career, Collins remains a highly respected and revered figure , his journey from a remote Irish village to the heart of the struggle against British rule renowned for his relentless dedication to securing Ireland's independence from the British Empire. showcases the indomitable spirit of a man who left an indelible mark on Irish history and his life is a testament to the unwavering spirit of those who fought for Ireland's independence. His legacy endures as a revolutionary leader known for his realism, efficiency, vision, and humanity.
An annual commemoration ceremony takes place each year in August at the ambush site at Béal na Bláth, County Cork, organised by The Béal na mBláth Commemoration Committee.There is also a remembrance ceremony at Collins' grave in Glasnevin Cemetery on the anniversary of his death every year.
Michael Collins House museum in Clonakilty, Cork is a museum dedicated to Michael Collins and the history of Irish Independence.Situated in a restored Georgian House on Emmet Square, where Collins once lived, the museum, tells the life story of Collins through guided tours, interactive displays, audiovisuals and historical artefacts.
Collins’s death in the ambush will be marked on Sunday when Fine Gael leader Simon Harris becomes only the third serving taoiseach after Enda Kenny and Micheál Martin to give the oration at the monument near where Collins was fatally wounded on August 22nd, 1922.
A statue of Michael Collins now stands in Cork city, the scene of one of his most famous public orations. The near lifesize statue depicts Collins standing alongside a bicycle, a nostalgic nod to a photograph of him taken with a Pierce bicycle in Wexford in 1922. The statue is a reminder of the time when Collins used to cycle around Dublin despite there being a bounty on his head.
Sculptor Kevin Holland was commissioned to create the new statue. The piece is being described as a “monument for the people, from the people” funded through a crowd-funding scheme spearheaded by the Michael Collins 100 committee.
"Give us the future, we've had enough of your past. Give us back our country, to live in, to grow in, to love." - Michael Collins.
Written by teenage rebel Brendan Behan, the following well-known Irish song “The Laughing Boy” was penned in memory of another iconic rebel, Michael Collins. But this song also had an extraordinary and dramatic afterlife as “To Yelasto Paidi,” the powerful left-wing anthem of resistance against the dictatorship that ruled Greece in the late Sixties and early Seventies. Translated by the poet Vassilis Rotas, Behan’s words in Greek were set to music by the legendary Mikis Theodorakis.
The laughing boy - Brendan Behan
't was on an* August morning, all in the morning hours
I went to take the warming air all in the month of flowers
And there I saw a maiden and heard her mournful cry:
Oh, what will mend my broken heart? I've lost my laughing boy!
So strong, so wild, so brave he was, I'll mourn his loss too sore
when thinking that we'll hear the laugh or springing step no more
Ah, curse the time, and sad the loss my heart to crucify,
that an Irish son with a rebel gun shot down my laughing boy!
Oh, had he died by Pearse's side or in the G.P.O.**
killed by an English bullet from the rifle of the foe,
or forcibly fed while Ashe lay dead in the dungeons of Mountjoy,
I'd have cried with pride at the way he died, my own dear laughing boy.
My pristine love, can ageless love do more than tell to you:
Go raibh míle maith agat*** for all you tried to do
For all you did and would have done my enemies to destroy
I'll prize your name and guard your fame, my own dear laughing boy!
Béal na Bláth where a simple Celtic Cross marks the spot where the course of Irish was changed forever.
