When the earl of Pembroke met Henry II at Newnham in Gloucestershire in 1171, in the words of Gerald of Wales he surrendered Dublin (significantly called regni caput), the adjacent cantreds, the maritime towns and castles to the king. ‘As for the rest of the land he had conquered, he and his heirs were to acknowledge that it was held of the king and his heirs.’ Already Mac Murchada had given King Henry ‘the bond of submission and oath of fealty’. Later Mac Carthaig did homage as well as fealty, gave hostages and an annual tribute and ‘voluntarily submitted to the authority of the king of England’, while other Irish submitted and swore fealty. Most significantly, according to Gerald, Ó Conchobair of Connacht Obtained the king’s peace, became dependent for the tenure of his kingdom on the king as overlord, and bound himself in alliance with the king by the strongest ties of fealty and submission’. All in Ireland became the king’s subjects, and Henry’s lordship was accepted by all. It was later confirmed by the pope and publicly proclaimed by his legate, Cardinal Vivian, at a synod in Dublin. From 1171, then, until 1541, when an Irish parliament declared Henry VIII to be king of Ireland, Anglo-Irish relations were governed by one simple fact: the king of England was ipso facto lord of Ireland. Throughout that period the royal style never changed. In all charters and formal letters issuing from his chancery he was Rex Anglie, Dominus Hibernie etc.

It was Gerald of Wales too who first voiced the new reality which faced Ireland after 1171. When he composed a dedication to King John of a new edition of his Expugnatio Hibernica, sometime around 1209, he reminded him that he should not neglect Ireland and wrote that ‘the Irish kingdom was made subject to the English crown, as if through a perpetual indenture and an indissoluble chain’.

The reign of George I has long been regarded by historians as an important period in the development in Ireland of what some have called ‘colonial nationalism’. This period witnessed, after all, two long-drawn-out conflicts between the political establishments of Ireland and Britain—the Sherlock v. Annesley case (leading to the Declaratory Act of 1720) and the infamous Wood’s Halfpence dispute of 1723–5. This reign has traditionally been regarded as a ‘difficult’ transitional phase in Anglo-Irish relations which was followed by the superficially uneventful era of government by ‘undertakers’ after the early 1730s, before the ‘national’ question erupted again during the money bill dispute of the 1750s. This article will examine the nature of the anti-English feeling which undoubtedly existed at this time among certain sections of the Irish Protestant community. It will be argued that conflict within the episcopate of the Church of Ireland had a significant role in fomenting much of the ‘national’ tension between the so-called Irish and English interests at this time. It will be suggested, moreover, that disputes over the distribution of ecclesiastical patronage made a major contribution to the development of this conflict.

This doggerel vindication of Fitzwilliam’s Irish viceroyalty of 1795 gave one contemporary interpretation of this controversial episode. Such a favourable verdict was far from universal at the time and subsequently has been seriously questioned by historians. In one respect, however, this verse succinctly highlighted one of the most striking features of the Fitzwilliam episode. It appeared that the lord lieutenant had been recalled before ‘he scarcely could explain himself’. The English minister principally responsible for initiating the swift recall was the home secretary, the duke of Portland. Since Portland was a close friend and longstanding political ally of Fitzwilliam, this seeming betrayal excited widespread comment and, in certain circles, gave rise to heartsearching consternation. Yet Portland’s motives have never been satisfactorily explained by historians. Attention has repeatedly been paid to the motives of Fitzwilliam himself, and the conduct of the prime minister, the Younger Pitt, has been carefully scrutinised. Explanations of Portland’s behaviour have been left rather on the sidelines. He is usually portrayed as a weak-minded dupe and traitor to his own avowed principles. A re-examination of the evidence permits a more rounded characterisation. Portland’s attitude was complex but coherent. Instead of the conventional picture of a weak man with weak views, Portland emerges as a man with strong views and some failings.

The story of the Fenian rising in 1867 may be regarded as starting with the expulsion of James Stephens from the headship of one of the two factions of American Fenians in December 1866. Stephens tried to postpone a rising planned to take place before 1 January 1867. At that time there was vocal dissatisfaction within the rank and file at the lack of action. The Dublin organisation itself was divided on the question. According to the report of Superintendent Ryan of the Dublin Metropolitan Police in January 1867:

Thomas J. Kelly, a former captain in the Federal army now bearing a title of colonel in Fenian terminology, and who had been in Ireland in early 1866, could now count on considerable support in Ireland. A bigger problem he faced was that of bringing the Fenians in Britain under his leadership as soon as he returned from America. Those Americans already in England (largely men who had fled from Ireland after the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act (29 Vict., c. 4) in February 1866), as well as many of the Irish Fenians there, already entertained doubts about the future purpose of an organisation guided by a remote leadership in America. As a result, the American officers and the Fenians in England decided to launch a rising without waiting for future American help, and for this purpose they formed a Directory in England not later than early February but more probably in January 1867.

The clandestine contacts between Parnell and the Irish Republican Brotherhood as he rose to national leadership in the first years of the land war provoked political controversy in his lifetime and have aroused speculation ever since. Michael Davitt and John Denvir both tried to recruit Parnell into the I.R.B. in 1878 and were told that he was determined never to join a secret society; but some years ago Paul Bew drew attention to a different allegation contained in an anonymous article published in 1930 in An Phoblacht. The writer claimed that as a youth he was one of the Land League organisers imprisoned in Kilmainham jail under Forster’s administration, and recollected a few incidents ‘for the benefit of the younger generation who stand face to face with the same authorities—under a new disguise today’. He described, among other things, the drafting of the ‘no-rent manifesto’ by William O’Brien and I.R.B. recruitment among the prisoners. The article then stated that soon after Parnell’s release from Kilmainham in 1882 he met a Land League organiser from the west while on his way to consult the records of Griffith’s valuation in Trinity College library, that they walked to the library together discussing constitutionalism and physical force, and that in the library Parnell at his own request took the I.R.B. oath, having first pledged the organiser to secrecy for as long as Parnell lived. (The article then casually continues for several paragraphs of reminiscence and reflection.)

The foreign policy of the Irish Free State under the Cumann na nGaedheal administrations of 1922–32 was a far more complex issue than has generally been realised. Policy had a greater scope than simply Anglo-Irish relations. It had two basic foundations. Through the 1921 treaty, the state reluctantly joined the British Commonwealth. Then, with great deliberation, the Free State joined the League of Nations, being admitted on 10 September 1923. By developing an active multidimensional foreign policy using these structures, the new state sought to show its ‘international’ and European credentials. The Irish Free State was to carve out a small niche for itself in the post-Versailles world order. An analysis of the Free State’s response to the Geneva Protocol of 1924 provides a case study of this multifaceted foreign policy in action.

As the foundations of Irish foreign policy in the 1920s, the League and the Commonwealth were played off against each other. A prominent stance at the League indicated that although the Free State was a dominion, it was not tied to the imperial line and could act independently to secure its own interests. The Free State’s position as a radical dominion was emphasised through League membership as the state used its independence at the League in the 1920s to develop the concept of the Commonwealth as a looser international grouping of equals. This approach to foreign policy served to benefit both core aspects of the state’s foreign relations. Generally these two core aspects of foreign policy complemented each other.