Nothing could have prevented the halo of martyrdom from attaching itself to those who died by the law for the sake of Irish freedom:  the tradition was too deeply ingrained in Ireland’s history.  Yet Redmond did not go beyond the measure of average Irish opinion when he accepted the first three executions as just.  People at least knew who these men were, and their signatures to the proclamation of an Irish Republic proved their leadership.  They were given the death of rebels in arms, to which no dishonour attaches.  But a fatal mistake was made in suppressing all report of the proceedings of the court-martial on them, and this mistake was to be repeated indefinitely.  Ireland was made to feel that this whole affair was taken completely out of the hands of Irishmen—­that no attempt even was made to enlist Irish opinion on the side of law by a statement of the evidence on which law acted.  Day by day there was a new bald announcement that such and such men had been shot; and these were men whose names Ireland at large had never heard of.

Then on top of all came the appalling admission that an officer suffering from insanity had taken out three prisoners and caused them to be shot without trial on his own responsibility, none of these men having any complicity with the rebellion.  This incident would have inflamed public opinion in any community; in Ireland its effect was beyond words poisonous.  It revived the atmosphere of the Bachelor’s Walk incident; and there was only too much justification for holding that the military authorities were indisposed to take the proper disciplinary action.  Its effect detracted from the excellent opinion which the troops generally had earned by their conduct:  it instilled venom into the resentment of those few cases (and it was beyond hope that they should not occur) in which soldiers had either lost their heads or yielded to the temptation of revenge in its ugliest shapes.

The result can be best expressed by recording the experience of one Sinn Feiner who was captured in the fighting.  While the military escort was taking him through the streets to his place of confinement, a crowd gathered round and ran along, consisting of angry men and women who had seen bloodshed and known hunger during these days.  They shouted to the soldiers to knock his brains out there and then.  Three weeks later he was again marched through the streets on his way to an English prison, and again a crowd mustered.  But this time, to his amazement, they were shouting:  “God save you!  God have pity on you!  Keep your heart up!  Ireland’s not dead yet!”