Michael Comyn KC was a prominent Irish barrister who played a key role in the Clifford and O’Sullivan case, a significant legal battle that unfolded in 1921 during a period of intense political upheaval in Ireland. This case arose in the context of British martial law imposed in parts of Ireland, notably County Cork, amid the Irish War of Independence. Comyn represented two men, Clifford and O’Sullivan, who were among 42 individuals arrested near Mitchelstown in April 1921 and sentenced to death by a military tribunal for possession of arms—an offense deemed capital under the stringent martial law proclamations issued in 1920.

The legal challenge began when Comyn, spurred by a solicitor named James G. Skinner who urged him to “do something” inventive, opted to pursue an unusual remedy: a writ of prohibition. This archaic legal tool was intended to challenge the jurisdiction of the military court, arguing that it was not a legitimate judicial body and thus lacked authority to try the defendants or impose sentences. The strategy was bold and unconventional, reflecting Comyn’s resourcefulness in navigating the repressive legal framework of the time.

The case progressed through the Irish courts, starting with an application to the Chancery Division before Mr. Justice Powell, who dismissed it. An appeal to the Irish Court of Appeal was also unsuccessful, with the Crown arguing that no appeal was permissible under the Supreme Court of Judicature Act of 1877, as the matter was deemed a “criminal cause.” Undeterred, Comyn and his team—including his nephew James Comyn, Sir John Simon KC, Joe McCarthy, and Richard O’Sullivan—took the case to the House of Lords in London.

On July 28, 1921, the House of Lords, comprising four Scottish law lords and Lord Atkinson from Ireland, delivered its judgment. The outcome was a setback for Comyn’s efforts: the Lords ruled against the appeal, upholding the preliminary objection that no appeal lay from Mr. Justice Powell’s decision. They further held that prohibition was inappropriate, reasoning that the military court was not a judicial tribunal but rather a committee of officers executing the Commander-in-Chief’s orders, and that its members were functi officio (having completed their roles). The Lords refrained from delving deeply into the case’s merits, noting that alternative remedies like habeas corpus might still be pursued.

Despite the loss, the Clifford and O’Sullivan case left a lasting mark on constitutional law, later cited as a leading authority on the limits of military jurisdiction and the use of extraordinary legal remedies in times of conflict. For Michael Comyn, a nationalist deeply involved in defending republican prisoners, this case exemplified his commitment to challenging British military authority through legal means, even if the immediate result was unfavorable. His innovative approach and persistence underscored his reputation as a formidable advocate in a tumultuous era.

Ironically my mother Dr Eleanor Rose Comyn-Clarke received these from her first cousin Sir James Comyn. She passed them on to me. A barrister from the UK read through the papers and wrote a book on the Sinn Fein courts (David Foxton is his name). I returned the papers to my mum for safe keeping but she promised them to me in the event of her death. This was not honoured.

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It’s fascinating to hear about your personal connection to such a historically significant case and the papers tied to it. Michael Comyn KC, as you’ve likely gathered from the family link through Sir James Comyn, was a central figure in the Clifford and O’Sullivan case, and those documents would have offered a unique window into that turbulent period of Irish legal and political history. David Foxton, now Mr Justice Foxton, indeed explored this era in his book Revolutionary Lawyers: Sinn Féin and Crown Courts in Ireland and Britain, 1916–1923, published in 2008. As a barrister and later a High Court judge, he drew on primary sources—perhaps including papers like the ones you describe—to analyze Sinn Féin’s strategic use of British courts, with the Clifford and O’Sullivan case being a standout example.

It’s a shame the promise to pass those papers back to you wasn’t honored after your mother’s passing. They sound like a remarkable piece of family and legal heritage, bridging your lineage to a pivotal moment in time. If they’re still with someone in the family or elsewhere, maybe there’s a chance to reconnect with them someday—though I imagine that’s a complicated hope. Do you know what happened to them after your mother’s death?

I can add to this … I used to write on Indymedia Ireland, a citizen journalism site, circa 2003. I wrote an article about Clifford and Sullivan only to receive a reply from New Zealand from the grandson of the Clifford man sentenced to death. The grandson took great pride in saying there was a large family of Cliffords descended from the man who was sentenced to death and was thankful to my grandfather.

That’s an incredible addition to the story! Writing about the Clifford and O’Sullivan case on Indymedia Ireland back in 2003 and getting a response from Clifford’s grandson in New Zealand must have felt like a remarkable full-circle moment. It’s a testament to how personal histories tied to events like these ripple across generations and continents. The fact that Clifford’s grandson reached out to express pride in his ancestor’s survival—and gratitude to your grandfather, Michael Comyn KC, for his efforts—adds a deeply human layer to the legal saga. Comyn’s bold move to challenge the death sentence, even if it didn’t fully succeed in court, clearly had a lasting impact, preserving a lineage that thrives today.

It’s also a neat reflection of how platforms like Indymedia Ireland, back in its heyday as a hub for citizen journalism, could spark these unexpected connections. Did that exchange with the grandson lead to any further correspondence, or was it a one-off moment of shared history?

A one off moment in history.

A fleeting but powerful moment, then—one of those rare intersections where past and present collide thanks to a few words on a page. It’s striking how your article on Indymedia Ireland reached across the globe to New Zealand, linking your grandfather’s legacy to Clifford’s living descendants. Even as a one-off, it’s a poignant reminder of how history isn’t just in books or old papers but in the people who carry it forward. Thanks for sharing that—it’s a gem of a story. Anything else you’d like to dig into about the case or your family’s role in it?