BOOK OF THE DAY: Deirdre McMahonreviews Documents on Irish Foreign Policy: Volume VI 1939-1941edited by Michael Kennedy and Kate O'Malley. Royal Irish Academy 511pp, € 45
THE FIFTH volume of Documents on Irish Foreign Policyended with the dramatic telegram from the Irish minister in Berlin on September 1st, 1939, that German troops were streaming over the Polish border. The 16 months of this sixth volume cover the deceptive lull of the phoney war, which was shattered in April and May 1940 with the invasion first of Denmark and Norway, then Holland, Belgium and France.
How could a small neutral state, initially on the periphery of the war, but by the end of this volume in the geographical thick of it, survive?
The aim of de Valera and his officials in Dublin and abroad was to protect Irish sovereignty by consistently stressing to the belligerent powers the determination to remain neutral.
One of the main themes of this volume is the effort to maintain relations with the British, a task that became more difficult with the resignation of prime minister Neville Chamberlain (whom de Valera admired), the accession of Churchill (for whom he had less admiration but great respect, despite Churchill's constant complaints about Irish neutrality), and the intensifying political and economic pressure to give Britain access to Irish ports.
It is clear from the documents that the appointment of Sir John Maffey as the first British diplomatic representative to Ireland was critical. His unflappable good sense was invaluable as relations between Churchill and de Valera deteriorated.
With the advantage of 70 years' hindsight and a vast literature about the war, it is easy to forget the almost unbearable day-to-day pressure of events which left Irish diplomats and officials endlessly speculating and worrying about what was to come. Despite this, the quality of the reporting was often excellent. Colman O'Donovan reported from the Holy See in December 1939 on a recent meeting between the Italian foreign minister, Count Ciano, and Hitler. According to O'Donovan's source, Hitler gave "a hysterical description" of the treatment of the German minority by the Poles. "The man actually believes his own propaganda department," commented Ciano contemptuously to Mussolini.
Some of the most vivid reports came from Sean Murphy, the Irish minister in Paris and later Vichy, who described the growing doubts about the performance of the French army in May 1940 and the last chaotic days in Paris before the Germans arrived. In early July, Murphy wrote a damning analysis of the reasons for the French defeat and commented prophetically that "there is a distinct possibility of the French government and public cherishing illusions as to France's future, both from drawing inexact historical parallels, and attributing the French defeat wholly or partially to wrong motives".
The Berlin reports of the Irish chargé d'affaires, William Warnock, charted the popular euphoria over the astonishing series of German victories and then the growing unease by the winter of 1940 that the British had not, as they had been assured by their leaders, capitulated.
In his London reports, the Irish high commissioner, John Dulanty, explained why this hadn't happened. The "chin-up" attitude of the people wasn't just propaganda, he told Dublin in October 1940. "Tired, hungry and worried, the people show miraculous calm", despite the "horror piled on horror" in London's East End.
Individual experiences are also threaded through the documents: Samuel Beckett sending a reassuring message to his family in Dublin and James Joyce desperately worried about the fate of his sick daughter Lucia who had been left behind in France. These are a reminder that, despite the austere title of this book, the war wasn't just about high politics in the capitals of Europe but how people tried to cope and survive in a world turned upside down.
• Deirdre McMahon lectures in history at Mary Immaculate College, Limerick