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Irish History: Strange but True, Clifden (2026)

16/03/2026

A fatal duel occurred at Sheemore Hill, Co. Leitrim in 1786.

Duelling was a facet of life in Ireland for many centuries.

By the eighteenth century, duelling was particularly popular among the upper classes in Ireland, with as many as one-third of duels ending with a fatality.

It was considered a fair way to solve a grievance if the strict duelling codes were followed.

One infamous duel in which the code was ignored occurred at Sheemore, Co. Leitrim, between George Reynolds and Robert Keon, a well-known attorney.

The duel came about after Keon had horsewhipped his neighbour at a fair in Carrick-on-Shannon in 1786.

The reasons why he did this are disputed. Some sources state that Reynolds told his mother not to employ Keon due to his bad character.

Another account states that the men were fighting over a lady named Mary Reilly.

Either way, it appears that Reynolds initiated the duel, which was set for 16 October. Powder only was to be used.

Keon arrived to the duel and Reynolds approached him, spectators expecting a reconciliation between the men.

Without waiting for the ground to be marked or the bell to be rung, Keon shouted 'why did you bring me here?' before shooting his opponent in the head, killing him.

He then galloped away.

Keon was eventually caught near Drumsna and when brought before the judge, he said his name was "Keane." When asked again, he answered that he was "King.” Asked a third time, he responded finally "Keon.”

When Reynolds's coachman was brought as witness before the judge he said ‘Let him be King, Keane or Keon, it was he who killed my master.’

Keon’s conduct was considered a grave offence against duelling and he was tried and found guilty.

No mercy was forthcoming and he was executed in Dublin in February 1788.

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

15/03/2026

An avalanche killed an entire family in the Wicklow Mountains in March 1867.

The Mulhalls lived in a small cabin in the secluded glen of Askinagap, high in the mountains of Co. Wicklow.

James Mulhall was a herd aged thirty-two, living with his wife Kate, who was twenty-eight, and their four young children, ranging from 7 years old to just 14 days old.

The month of March 1867 had seen huge falls of snow which had gathered in large drifts around the Mulhall home.

Then, suddenly, torrents of rain fell on 22 and 23 March.

There were ten deaths in Co. Wicklow due to this severe flooding, with several drownings and cases of bridges being swept away.

The unmelted snow still lay across the uplands and many people in the district were barely able to leave their homes, although the Mulhalls did get a visitor on 22 March, a local teenage girl, who ascertained that they, and their newborn baby, had enough to eat.

They assured her that they did and invited her to stay the night. She declined, believing her parents would worry if she didn't return home.

That night, when the Mulhalls were in bed, a mass of snow high on the hillside above their cabin was dislodged by the heavy rain.

The avalanche swept down into the glen and completely overwhelmed the small dwelling below.

It was not until noon the following day that their fate was discovered.

Neighbours noted to their horror that the Mulhalls' cabin seemed to have disappeared and a search party was organised.

As local workers began removing the heavy snow that had been carried down the mountain, they made a grim discovery.

Inside the wreckage of what had once been the family home, they found the six Mulhalls lying together in their bed.

Newspaper reports noted that the scene appeared strangely peaceful.

The family were lying 'as if asleep,' suggesting that the avalanche had struck suddenly during the night and that death had come without warning.

The bodies were removed to a nearby house and an inquest was held by the local coroner, Philip Newton.

After hearing the evidence, the jury returned a verdict confirming that the Mulhalls had died as the result of the avalanche.

The family were not forgotten and a memorial (pictured) was erected in their memory in recent years.

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

14/03/2026

‘The Moving Bog Disaster,’ wiped out almost an entire family in Co. Kerry in 1896.

The Donnellys lived near Gneeveguilla, Co. Kerry, where Con managed the local quarry for Lord Kenmare.

He and his wife Johanna lived in a cottage in a lonely part of the valley adjoining his workplace and on 28 December 1896, the couple and six of their children were sleeping soundly in their beds. Another daughter, Katie, was staying with relatives nearby.

The previous few days had been exceptionally wet and that morning, at around 1am, a terrible bog slide was triggered, rumbling down the mountainside and into the valley in which the Donnellys lived.

The moving mass of liquid peat was said to be almost a mile wide and sixty feet high in places. It ultimately flowed for ten miles into the River Flesk. The Donnelly home, below the level of the road and directly in the path of the slide, was completely submerged.

The following morning, neighbours noticed to their horror that there was no trace of the building, nor of its occupants. A search began immediately.

Although Con, Johanna and five of the children’s bodies were recovered, one being found thirteen miles distant, the body of one daughter, Maggie, was never discovered.

The Lyons's dog somehow survived the disaster.

The funeral of the family was a scene of devastation, with a cortege a mile long, indicating the high esteem in which the family had been held.

Miraculously, despite several narrow escapes, no-one else was killed in this unprecedented and devastating disaster.

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

Pictured is the home before it was swept away, taken from the Illustrated London News.

14/03/2026

'Evil literature' was one target of the Irish Free State’s disapproving gaze.

Such literature could come in the form of newspapers or books which were not seen to be upholding the morality which the conservative state was striving for.

The Censorship of Publications Board banned more than 12,000 ‘unwholesome’ publications after its foundation in 1929.

The novels banned were by both Irish and international authors.

Oscar Wilde’s 'Picture of Dorian Gray' was an early casualty and later ‘evil’ works included Brendan Behan’s 'Borstal Boy' and Edna O’Brien’s 'Country Girls.'

John McGahern (pictured) lost his job as a teacher after publishing 'The Dark,' as late as 1965.

To modern eyes, the content of these works seems tame, but mentions of contraception, divorce and s*x in any form were not deemed appropriate for Irish eyes.

Newspapers, particularly English publications such as the Dail Mail, were also in the sights of the committee.

As early as 1928, a Co. Leitrim priest complained that Ireland was ruined with filthy literature and foreign newspapers.

He added that he been in a shop in Dublin and noticed such literature being put into envelopes for remote places all over Ireland.

The same priest appears to have been very familiar with the content of such immoral books, although perhaps he had read them only for research purposes.

It was not just literature that was in the firing line.

A fierce, but short-lived, anti-jazz campaign occurred in 1934.

Started by a Co. Leitrim priest, a march was held through the town of Mohill in which 3,000 attendees marched and shouted slogans demanding the banning of jazz music in Ireland and its complete removal from RTÉ, Ireland’s only radio station.

The protestors denounced the music genre as communistic and an ‘engine of hell.’

They also railed against what they called jazz dancing, which they believed was a menace to Irish womanhood.

The Taoiseach himself, Éamonn de Valera, sent a representative to the protest and briefly every newspaper weighed into the campaign, which nevertheless ran out of steam within a short time.

In the 1970s, the censorship board in Ireland also largely ended its practice of banning literature and novels.

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

13/03/2026

Peter O'Connor was the first man to raise the Irish tricolour at the Olympic Games, despite the fact that he was supposed to be competing for Britain.

His athletics career had humble beginnings.

In July 1894, as a young clerk, O'Connor was sitting in Redmond Connolly's solicitors' office in Clifden, Co. Galway when a deputation of local men arrived in.

O'Connor, a Wicklow native, had been working in Clifden for some months and the men had come to ask him to represent the town in the Cleggan Sports Day which was to be held the following week.

They had heard that O'Connor had taken part in a hop, skip and jump competition in Kylemore some weeks before and that the spectators had been amazed by his natural ability.

At this time, there was a major rivalry between Clifden and Cleggan when it came to athletics. Cleggan were said to have been home to a foursome of brothers, the Kings, who were incredible athletes and they had not been beaten in any athletic event for several years, something which the people of Clifden wished to change.

O'Connor was surprised by the visit but agreed. He did not have any suitable equipment however.

He later said 'On the day of the sports, I asked one of the Cleggan brothers to lend me a pair of spiked shoes for the jumping contest. I observed the indignant refusal to this request and it made me more determined to conquer them.'

O'Connor duly won all three jumping events on the day.

One of the brothers then challenged O'Connor to a race over any distance later in the month.

O'Connor agreed and, angered by the manner in which the challenge had been made publicly, purchased his own spiked shoes and trained hard for several weeks. Later in the summer, at Leenane, O'Connor beat the challenger comfortably in a 220 yard race.

This was O'Connor's first real taste of competition. 'After this contest, I realised for the first time that God had endowed me this wonderful gift of spring and I started to train regularly and made rapid progress.'

O'Connor began to compete in local athletic events and his prowess soon became well known.

By the time O'Connor left Clifden in 1897, he was well on his way to stardom.

In 1901, Peter O’Connor set the world record in the long jump at the RDS in Ballsbridge and soon became one of the most famous athletes in the world, with the American media dubbing him the ‘Irish Antelope’ .

His world long jump record in 1901 stood for 20 years and his Irish record stood for 90 years.

He won a gold medal at the 1906 Athens Intercalated Olympics in the triple jump while also taking the silver medal in the long jump.

Although officially forced to compete for Britain, nationalist O'Connor smuggled in an Irish flag and had it erected for the presentation, much to the outrage of the British Olympic fraternity.

He will forever go down as the first man in history to raise an Irish flag at the Olympics.

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

12/03/2026

The worst non-political mass murder in the history of the Irish state occurred in 1926, at La Mancha, a large house on thirty acres of land, situated outside Malahide, Co. Dublin.

The McDonnell family had purchased the house some years before, having sold their large business in the west of Ireland.

By March 1926, brothers and sisters Peter, Joseph, Alice and Annie McDonnell lived in the house, which had several employees, including Mary McGowan and James Clarke.

They were well liked locally.

Another employee was gardener Henry McCabe, who had a history of violent crime from his time living in England, unbeknownst to the McDonnells.

In March 1926, McCabe murdered the four members of the family, as well as his two co-workers, probably by first poisoning them and then bludgeoning them to death.

He then stole valuables and, for the next two days, was the only person seen around the house.

Finally, after ensuring all the valuables had been taken and secreted away, McCabe set the house on fire to cover his tracks.

His failure to open any of the windows left little oxygen in the house and the fire did not spread as quickly as he had hoped.

Members of the fire brigade noticed immediately that the dead appeared to have been victims of foul play, although their faces had been wiped clean, and that the fire had been set deliberately .

They notified the Gardaí immediately.

The gardener was quickly the prime suspect due to his suspicious behaviour in the aftermath of the killings, his criminal past and the bloodstains on his shirt.

He was also wearing clothes belonging to the McDonnells.

The catalyst for the killing may have been the family's decision to sell up the house.

McCabe, himself a married father of nine children, described the McDonnell family as strange and hostile to one another and intimated that one of the brothers may have been responsible.

Nevetheless, despite protesting his innocence and describing himself in the dock as the victim of bribery and perjury, Henry McCabe was found guilty and hanged in December 1926.

In October 1933, several pieces of jewellery were discovered buried in a nearby garden in which McCabe had once worked.

They had come from La Mancha and appeared to confirm the guilt of the gardener.

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

Pictured is the burnt out shell of La Mancha.

11/03/2026

By the opening of the 20th century, poverty in the Dublin City was endemic, with one third of the population living in tenement slums.

It is unlikely that anything approaching the scale of this destitution could be found in any city in Britain.

Even Belfast was comparatively wealthy compared to the city in the south, with ship-building remaining a profitable and relatively well-paid industry there.

In Dublin, conversely, pay was low and workers poorly treated.

The Evening Herald despaired in July 1901:

'Again, it has been proved that the tenement system of Dublin is a disgrace to civilisation and a menace to the physical health as well as to the moral well-being of the people.

There are thousands of these tenements-dens in Dublin and how poor people can live in them is a mystery. The only explanation [for living there] is that there they can conceal their poverty, their rags, their social degradation. '

The poverty meant that many people were unable to afford better-quality housing and continued to flock to the tenements, although many had just one outdoor toilet for up to three dozen people.

A tenement collapse occurred in 1913 on 66 and 67 Church Street and led to seven deaths, including two children of the Sammon family, Eugene (17) amongst them.

He had run into the collapsing building to attempt to save family members and was trapped under rubble in the attempt.

It could have been even worse – no less than twenty-five people lived in Number 66, but many were attending a play which was taking place in a nearby hall.

The cramped living conditions were also an ideal breeding ground for diseases such as tuberculosis.

In 1917, over 9,000 deaths from TB occurred nationally, a disproportionate number in Dublin, in a country that already had higher rates per capita than England, Scotland or Wales.

The poorly-nourished children in urban areas were twice as likely to die before the age of one than their rural counterparts, showing the debilitating effect of living in conditions such as these and some sources state that children in tenements had just a 50% chance of reaching their teenage years.

Urban or rural, life for the poor in nineteenth century Ireland was difficult in the extreme.

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

10/03/2026

Surely one of Ireland's greatest and most tragic love stories is that of Thomas MacDonagh and Muriel Gifford.

Thomas MacDonagh was born in Cloughjordan, Co. Tipperary in 1878. His parents were teachers and his was a middle-class rural Catholic upbringing.

Thomas first studied for the priesthood, before eventually opting to become a teacher.

Muriel Gifford was born in Dublin in 1885 into a large upper-class Protestant home. Her parents were staunch Unionists who believed Ireland belonged in the British Empire.

Thomas MacDonagh became an ardent nationalist around the turn of the twentieth century and increasingly became involved in Irish cultural activities.

He studied the Irish language and visited Connemara and the Aran Islands on numerous occasions.

Eventually, his path crossed with Pádraig Pearse and the pair became firm friends.

Muriel, too, grew interested in Irish culture, in spite of the politics she had been raised with, and would ultimately count WB Yeats, Arthur Griffith and other important nationalists amongst her friends.

When Pearse told Thomas MacDonagh that he was setting up an Irish-medium school in Dublin teaching history, geography and literature from an Irish rather than a British perspective, unheard of at the time, MacDonagh jumped at the chance to become deputy-principal.

The school came to be known as Scoil Éanna, named after the saint of the Aran Islands. It was a truly radical departure for Irish education and attracted many admirers.

One of these was a Mrs Dryhurst who brought two friends of hers, sisters Muriel and Sidney Gifford, to see the newly-opened educational establishment in 1908.

Principal Padraig Pearse was notoriously shy and did not come out to meet the guests but MacDonagh, an outgoing and affable man, was said to have come racing down the steps with his hands outstretched.

He welcomed Mrs Dryhurst who returned his greeting before advising him to 'fall in love with one of these girls and marry her.'

Many would have been tongue-tied, although MacDonagh answered laughingly 'That would be easy. The only difficulty would be to decide which one.'

Muriel and Thomas eventually began a relationship in 1911. They shared similar interests and politics and both took part in protests when the King of England visited Dublin in the same year.

The difference in their religions was an issue in the Ireland of 1911, however, and Muriel's mother was unimpressed at her daughter's choice of suitor.

The couple were unperturbed and married in a secret ceremony in January 1912 in Ranelagh, Co. Dublin. Pádraig Pearse was to act as witness for the wedding but for some reason he failed to arrive. The pair instead asked a man outside the church cutting hedges to act a witness, something which he did gladly.

The pair had a blissfully happy four years and had two children - Donagh and Barbara.

Thomas was becoming increasingly involved in Irish republicanism, however, a cause shared by his wife. As 1916 wore on, it became increasingly obvious to Muriel that something was in planning.

On the night of Easter Sunday 1916, Thomas said to his wife "I may or may not see you tomorrow – if possible, I will come in the morning.’

She never saw him again.

The Rebellion duly began the following morning, lasting six days. MacDonagh was commanding officer in Jacob's Biscuit Factory.

When the order came to surrender, he accepted it reluctantly.

He was court-martialled by the British but offered no defence, being convinced that he would be shot for his leading role in the Rising having signed the Proclamation of the Irish Republic. He believed his sacrifice would spur on future generations to strive for independence, however, something which proved prescient.

From his death cell, he composed a letter to Muriel.

It read:

'My dearest love, Muriel, thank you a million times for all you have been for me. I have only one trouble in leaving life – leaving you so.

Be brave, darling, God will assist and bless you. Goodbye, kiss my darlings for me. I have sent you the few things I have saved out of this war.

Goodbye, my love, till we meet again in Heaven. I have a sure faith of our union there. I kiss this paper that goes to you.
I have just heard that I have not been able to reach you. Perhaps it is better so….

God help and sustain you, my love. But for your suffering this would be all joy and glory. Goodbye.

Your loving husband,
Thomas MacDonagh.'

He asked to see his wife on numerous occasions before his death.

The British had no objection to this and Muriel was visited by a British soldier who informed her that her husband was to be executed that night. She was told that she had permission to visit him.

She set off immediately but was stopped at an army checkpoint. Dublin was under curfew and she had not been given a permit. For this reason, she was turned around and told to go home.

Tragically, MacDonagh was left unaware of this and unsure why Muriel did not visit.

Thomas MacDonagh was executed by firing squad on 3 May 1916. Muriel learned of her husband’s death in the following morning's newspaper.

Muriel and her two children lived on in Dublin, bereft of their husband and father.

On 9 July 1917, another unspeakable tragedy occurred when Muriel died off the coast of Skerries. She was an exceptionally strong swimmer and was swimming to Shenick Island off the Dublin coast when she died of heart failure.

Her sister Grace later said that Muriel was bringing out an Irish tricolour to fly on the island as the police had been ripping down tricolours on the mainland that day.

Muriel's sudden death left two small children suddenly orphaned.

Her funeral was enormous. The men of 1916 had been denied funerals and many saw Muriel Gifford-MacDonagh's send-off as a fitting way to pay a tribute to her life and that of the cause she and Thomas had believed passionately in.

Go ndéana Troócaire orthu.

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

Pictured is Thomas and Muriel MacDonagh with their son Donagh. Photo: National Library of Ireland.

09/03/2026

Dan Donnelly was probably Ireland's most renowned sportsman in his day.

Born in Dublin in 1788, by adulthood he was standing at over 6 feet.

Donnelly was a good sportsman in several disciplines but was attracted to the sport of bare-knuckle boxing which was then growing in popularity.

His first fight was said to have occurred in a Dublin public house when he bested two men who had insulted his father

At this time, English fighters regularly toured Ireland and a local army captain noticed Donnelly’s strength and power and encouraged him to challenge one of them.

Donnelly agreed, and, after several months training, he faced off against renowned English fighter Tom Hall on 14 September, 1814 in front of some 40,000 people at Belcher’s Hollow near the Curragh in Co. Kildare.

The fight, in an era before Queensberry rules, was brutal but ended in a controversial draw, many feeling that the Irishman had been cheated, but Donnelly was undeterred.

He next challenged and beat an even more formidable English boxer, George Cooper, and became a national hero in the process.

A third bout against Englishman Tom Oliver lasted 32 rounds and again saw Donnelly emerge triumphant.

Donnelly was charming and well liked in his home country, although he had a penchant for alcohol. He died young in 1820, the funeral of the man now dubbed 'Sir Dan' drawing an enormous crowd to Dublin.

A memorial now stands to Donnelly at the site of his first fight, now renamed Donnelly's Hollow in his honour.

Gruesomely, a mummified arm said to have been severed from Donnelly’s body was on display in the Hideout Public House in Kildare until 1953!

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

08/03/2026

Tuam was one of the first towns that felt the terror of a Black and Tan reprisal.

On 19 July 1920, four armed RIC constables were driving from Tuam to nearby Dunmore in north Co. Galway.

When they reached Gallagh, three miles from Tuam, they were surprised to find the road blocked by a felled tree.

The van had barely time to stop before a fusillade of shots was fired.

Two of the officers, Burke and Carey, who were just getting out of the car, were shot. The other two policemen alighted, discharging several bullets from behind a wall.

The larger party against them returned fire, eventually forcing the men to surrender.
At that point the IRA volunteers took the RIC officers’ weapons and absconded.

The two remaining policemen were then blindfolded and told to go back towards Tuam.

They reached Tuam that night and informed their colleagues of what happened.

Soldiers and police converged on the ambush site but found no-one except the dead bodies of their two colleagues.

The bodies were brought back to the station and waked by their colleagues. All was peaceful until 3 a.m.

At this point patrol parties who had been on the hunt for the ambush party returned to Tuam empty handed. “The policemen, after viewing the bodies of their comrades, appear to have got out of hand," said the Belfast Newsletter.

A loud volley of shots was heard in the town, rousing the local people from their sleep.
Hand grenades and bombs were also unleashed, leaving the population in no doubt that reprisals were underway.

Fifty to one hundred members of the Crown forces emerged onto the street.

Windows of pubs and houses were smashed with rifle butts and young men were dragged from their beds and threatened with murder.

Shots were fired at the upper windows while a bomb was thrown into the window of Mr James Casey, secretary of the local arbitration court.
He was not present but two lodgers who had taken refuge under the bed had a fortunate escape.

Flames lit up the night sky as paraffin and petrol were thrown onto the town hall (pictured). It was burnt.

Fortunately, a vigilant town clerk managed to save many of the town’s papers.

The military made a brief appearance but left shortly afterwards without intervening, reportedly being called away by their superior officer who shouted “This is not our job.”

Shop Street was targeted and almost every business on it was set ablaze.

Canney’s Drapery suffered particular damage, stated to amount to £20,000.

The names of certain residents were called out but there was no-one willing, or able, to divulge their whereabouts. At one point a lamp was shot out of a woman’s hand.

At 6 a.m. the firing ceased and some denizens came out onto the street. They found houses and businesses still on fire. Locals quickly got the town hose and used it to put out a number of fires, thus saving several local houses.

The damage was said to have been in the region of £100,000.

The Tuam Herald lamented the terrible events:
'Never in its long history did this famous old town spring into such unfortunate prominence as on Monday evening of this fearful week of horrors.

Then some of the police, the custodians of the peace and guardians of public order, went out into the usually quiet streets and committed great havoc on the property of the citizens.

God preserve us from the worst of all evils and keep poor Ireland from the devastation, destruction and ruin incidental to such a breakup of the forces of law and order.'

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

07/03/2026

The assassination of Henry Wilson was one of the catalysts of the Irish Civil War.

Wilson, himself born in Ireland, had by 1922 become a hate figure for republicans while being highly respected by many within unionism.

Wilson was born into a landowning Anglo-Irish family in 1864, spending much of his youth in Co. Longford, although he was educated in England.

Like many of his class, he enlisted in the British Army at a young age, serving in the Boer War and rising to the rank of field marshal.

In later years, he proved to be a resolute defender of the British Empire and condoned violence by Irish unionists in the event of home rule.

He also supported the wildly unpopular conscription of Irishmen into the British Army in World War I.

He vehemently opposed any settlement with the IRA in the War of Independence, believing flooding Ireland with British troops and declaring martial law was the best course of action.

After partition, he became an advisor to the new Northern Ireland government and an MP for Co. Down.

He was seen by nationalists as sympathetic to the expulsion of, and attacks on, Catholics in the six counties during its first two years.

Michael Collins called him "a violent Orange partisan".

Wilson, conversely, considered himself an Irishman and often told crowds he was addressing that he was born in Longford in 1864, a place where before the troubles 'the front door of my house was never shut, by day or by night.'

On 22 June 1922, Wilson attended the unveiling of a Great War memorial at Liverpool Street Station.

That afternoon, he returned by taxi to his home at Eaton Place in London.

Unbeknownst to him, two men Joseph O'Sullivan and Reginald Dunne lay in wait.

The pair, both 24 years old, had fought in the British Army during World War I but had grown disillusioned with the Crown Forces and enlisted in the London brigade of the IRA afterwards.

O'Sullivan's parents were Irish while Dunne's mother's family had originally been from Ireland but even she had been born in England, giving him a relatively distant connection to the country.

Nevertheless, the duo were chosen to carry out the mission.

The pair waited until the field marshal was at his front door before drawing their guns and shootong him six times.

Some accounts state that Wilson made a futile attempt to draw his sword before his death.

The gunmen then attempted to flee, although O'Sullivan had lost part of his leg in the war and could not run, meaning that the chances of them getting away were always slim.

Minutes later, Dunne and O'Sullivan were rescued by police from a mob who may have lynched them on the spot.

The men refused to recognise the court when they appeared on a murder charge the following month and both were quickly found guilty.

Dunne and O'Sullivan were hanged at Wandsworth Prison on 10 August 1922. On the same day, Wilson's ancestral home at Currygrane, Co. Longford was burned to the ground.

Eamonn de Velera commented on the shooting:

'I do not know who they were who shot Sir Henry Wilson, or why they shot him.

I know that life has been made a hell for the nationalist minority in Belfast and its neighbourhood for the past couple of years.

I do not approve but I must not pretend to misunderstand.'

The British government, believing without much evidence that the anti-Treaty IRA had ordered the killing of Wilson, demanded that the Free State government take action and immediately remove the republicans who had taken over the Four Courts in Dublin.

Within days, the bombardment of that building would begin, and so would the bloody Irish Civil War.

In 1967, Dunne and O'Sullivan were removed from their prison graves and reinterred in Deansgrange Cemetery.

For more stories of the lesser-known side of Irish history, see my new book - 'Irish History: Strange but True (from the author of 'Little History of Galway.) In all good bookshops or pick up a signed copy at: https://strangeirishhistory.etsy.com/listing/4446372429,

Pictured are Wilson (top), Dunne (bottom left) and O'Sullivan (bottom right)

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