In the late hours of March 6, 1924, a pair of high-ranking officials from the Free State Army delivered a formidable demand to the government: disband the Army Council, abandon the mass demobilisation project, or face ambiguous repercussions. The executive president, WT Cosgrave, later relayed the message to the Dáil, framing it as a direct threat to the nation’s democratic base, a matter of significance for every member of every political party and all civilians. Given Cosgrave’s difficult history, this proved to be one predicament too many; he subsequently took a week’s sick leave, delegating his duties to the minister for justice, Kevin O’Higgins, who was effectively the government’s powerhouse.
The impending coup threat lingered until the wee hours of March 19, when Free State soldiers besieged Liam Devlin’s pub and grocery shop on Parnell Street. Here, a band of insurgent officers had assembled to hash out their scheme. The site, where Devlin’s once stood is now home to one of Dublin’s recent hotels, the Point A. It was here that I was given a brief tour of the site, courtesy of my guide Des Gunning, in the presence of John Healy, Devlin’s grandson.
To understand the 1924 mutiny, one needs to examine the backdrop of Ireland’s extreme militarisation over the prior two years where the national Army’s size mushroomed to 55,000 men, narrates Gunning. This was patently unsustainable, prompting the minister of defence, Richard Mulcahy, to decrease the figure to 17,000. However, this decision stirred up dissension among the involved factions. It was Mulcahy, a leader of old Irish Republican Brotherhood generals– who profited from his sway– who triggered the issue.
The individuals who authored the ultimatum, namely Major Gen Liam Tobin and Col Charlie Dalton, were part of the newly formed Irish Republican Army Organisation, which was established late in 1922. They took issue with the Army management, deeming them insufficiently “patriotic”.
Concerns were raised due to the significant presence of ex-British army members in the officers’ corps. These fears were amplified in Tobin’s mind, cognisant that his own role would be discarded in Mulcahy’s strategies. Moreover, Joe McGrath, the industry and commerce minister and an IRAO ally, was prominently caught up in the unfolding drama. His residence was scrutinised amidst the turmoil, as per Mulcahy’s authorization.
Overlooking the Rotunda Hospital, Devlin’s pub and store, a quartet-story structure, played a pivotal part in the War of Independence. This space served as the hub for intelligence coordination for Michael Collins, which frequented the visit of Ned Broy, Collins’ asset in Dublin Castle.
The building also served as the epicentre of the 1924 crisis on the night of March 18. Reportedly, a secret huddle of near forty men, including Tobin and Dalton, was gathered in a room upstairs. At 9 pm, troops, unauthorised by the government, made the first approach at invading the room, which was promptly opposed. They, subsequently, established a boundary around the structure, with their machine guns aimed at the entry.
The ensuing hours were riddled with tension. McGrath made a dramatic appearance, negotiating with the rebels inside and drawing comparisons from the press to Churchill’s role during the Sidney Street standoff in London, years prior.
Some rebels relocated themselves to the roof while a crowd witnessed the unfolding drama from the roadside beneath. Shots were eventually discharged, seemingly as a warning, though the source of some remained unknown.
The impasse concluded in the hours of 3 and 4 am as the majority inside surrendered. Tobin and Dalton managed to evade capture, possibly escaping through underground pub tunnels, as speculated by John Healy.
Subsequent to the resolution, the rebels remained uncharged. The government merely called for an investigation and the army council’s disbandment, which led to Mulcahy’s resignation and boosted O’Higgins’s stature. It later came to light that McGrath had already submitted his resignation and coaxed other like-minded TDs into resigning, thereby prompting nine by-elections. They contested under the National Party’s banner, assured of reclaiming their positions.
Previous encounters with the technical complexity of the newly introduced transferable vote system resulted in everyone experiencing defeat. However, with the advantages that come with transferability, Cumann na nGaedheal, the governing party, triumphed in seven by-elections, with the remaining two falling to Sinn Féin.
The Rotunda Hospital was no stranger to being in the midst of a national spectacle, often seen as having a precarious ringside spot. As per Des Gunning’s humorous commentary, expectant mothers found themselves observing the symbolic formation of a new nation while also going through their personal ordeal of childbirth. The tale of Liam Devlin, as told by his grandson, started with the native of Derry dispensing off his tavern located on Parnell Street shortly after these events. A brief yet fruitful stint in the building trade followed, where he established Marino, Dublin’s initial garden city district.
In between, Devlin had ventured into buying a small toffee manufacturing unit. Later on, he amassed considerable wealth, in part due to the burgeoning populace of the Rotunda. His entrepreneurial ventures led to the foundation of “the biggest confectionery business for children” in Ireland.