CHAPTER III SIR ROGER CASEMENT AND THE IRISH PLANS
While preparations were thus being pushed forward on board, I myself was ordered up to Berlin, where also various preparations were in train.
There I learned at last something more definite regarding the destination of the Libau.
Sir Roger Casement, the well-known leader of the Irish Sinn Feiners, who, as one of the most zealous representatives of the cause of Ireland's liberty, had long been an object of suspicion to the English, was now in Germany.
Casement, who was a fiery patriot, and cherished a deadly hatred for England, believed that the world-war had at length brought the opportunity to deliver his country from the age-long oppression of the English. The favourable military situation of the Central Powers at that time justified the hope that they would be victorious. If, then, the Irish people made up its mind to rise against England, and had sufficient tenacity, and a sufficient supply of arms and ammunition, to maintain the struggle, the existing situation was undoubtedly the most favourable for the realisation of Ireland's hopes, that Ireland had ever had—or ever will have.
Roger Casement, as appears from his earlier writings, had years before foreseen this world-war, and the opportunity for Ireland that it would bring in its train. Long a friend and admirer of Germany, co-operation with Germany seemed to him the only hope of deliverance for his country. He had, therefore, both before and during the war, been carrying on by speech and writing a vigorous propaganda in support of this idea. According to his own statements, he had behind him a great part of the Irish people; this was the so-called 'Sinn Fein Party.'
The driving force behind the whole movement, however, was supplied—doubtless on account of their greater liberty of action—by the partisans of the Irish Republican cause in the United States.
The principal representatives of these Irish-Americans had, some time before, approached the German ambassador in Washington, Count Bernstorff, with the urgent request that he would forward their plea for German military support for the projected rising in Ireland.
The desired support, in the form of a landing of troops, had to be refused by Germany; but, on the other hand, Germany declared herself willing, after carefully examining the situation, to fall in with Count Bernstorff's proposal to the extent of sending a ship with arms and munitions to Ireland. This would, on the one hand, give solid proof of Germany's willingness to help the oppressed Irish. On the other hand, it was hoped that an Irish rising, if energetically carried out, would not only bring to the Irish the realisation of their hopes, but would shorten the war by several months. The assumption was that England would be compelled to withdraw from the front great masses of troops and material, in order to cope with the insurrection.
A simultaneous naval demonstration on the east coast of England was to create a favourable opportunity for the landing of the arms, by diverting attention from the west of Ireland.
The questions which had to be considered were, first, whether the ship would be able to run the blockade and succeed in landing her cargo, and, second, whether the Irish would be sufficiently vigorous and energetic to carry out the rising successfully.
Neither question could be answered with certainty. Accordingly, both the ship's mission and the rising planned in connection therewith, from the first involved a large element of risk. Either undertaking without the active support of the other would be purposeless, because fore-doomed to failure.
In view of the return of the Möwe, which had succeeded in getting home shortly before, and the attempted break-through, still more recently, of the auxiliary cruiser Greif, which the English had unfortunately caught, we had now to reckon on the blockade being still further tightened up. The prospects for my blockade-running enterprise were anything but rosy. The more so as the attempt had to be made at a time when the moon was nearing the full. The Irish had insisted that the rising must take place at Easter, which had for the Catholic Irish so very special a significance, and against Easter in the calendar stood the words 'Full Moon'—the very last thing I could have wished for at the time when I should be approaching land.
Casement, who, of course, was in the closest possible touch with his fellow-countrymen across the water, had, in consultation with them already, taken the most necessary steps in Germany.[1]
The plan had therefore been discussed in all its bearings, and was fully communicated to me at various interviews with Sir Roger Casement. I now knew, therefore, that I had been selected for an enterprise which called for a very high degree both of vigour and of circumspection. It can be understood that I was well pleased.