I think chiefly of Tom Clarke and MacDiarmada. Both built on the best foundations. Ireland will not see another Sean MacDiarmada.
These are sharp reflections. On the whole I think the Rising was bungled terribly, costing many a good life. It seemed at first to be well-organised, but afterwards became subjected to panic decisions and a great lack of very essential organisation and co-operation.
The first sample (I am assuming that Collins exempted the Declaration of the Republic from his strictures) of the spate of memoranda ‘couched in poetic phrases’ to which Collins referred emanated from Pearse the day after the Rising began. It said:
The Provisional Government to the Citizens of Dublin: The Provisional Government of the Irish Republic salutes the Citizens of Dublin on the momentous occasion of the proclamation of a SOVEREIGN INDEPENDENT IRISH STATE now in the course of being established by Irishmen in arms.
The Republican forces hold the lines taken up at Twelve noon on Easter Monday, and nowhere, despite fierce and almost continuous attacks of the British troops have the lines been broken through. The country is rising in answer to Dublin’s call, and the final achievement of Ireland’s freedom is now, with God’s help, only a matter of days. The valour, self-sacrifice and discipline of Irish men and women are about to win for our country a glorious place among the nations.
Ireland’s honour has already been redeemed; it remains to vindicate her wisdom and her self-control.
All citizens of Dublin who believe in the right of their Country to be free will give their allegiance and their loyal help to the Irish Republic. There is work for everyone; for the men in the fighting line, and for the women in the provision of food and first aid. Every Irishman and Irish woman worthy of the name will come forward to help their common country in this her supreme hour.
Able-bodied citizens can help by building barricades in the streets to oppose the advance of the British troops. The British troops have been firing on our women and on our Red Cross. On the other hand, Irish regiments in the British Army have refused to act against their fellow countrymen.
The Provisional Government hopes that its supporters – which means the vast bulk of the people of Dublin – will preserve order and self-restraint. Such looting as has already occurred has been done by the hangers-on of the British Army. Ireland must keep her new honour unsmirched.
We have lived to see an Irish Republic proclaimed. May we live to establish it firmly, and may our children and our children’s children enjoy the happiness and prosperity which freedom will bring.
Signed on behalf of the Provisional Government.
P. H. Pearse
Commanding in Chief of the Forces of the Irish
Republic and President of the Provisional Government
Of course the country did not rise and there was no mutiny in the British Army. In fact, as indicated, the Dublin Fusiliers was one of the units which took an active part in crushing the rebellion, as did individual ex-Volunteers who had joined the British Army in answer to Redmond’s call, in some cases having assisted in the Howth gun running.
The noose tightened on the city and heavy artillery shells began to rain down accompanied by machine gun and rifle fire. One of the methods used by the British to get close to rebel positions was in anticipation of tank warfare. A Colonel Portal is credited with being the brains behind a scheme which procured two large iron boilers from the Guinness Brewery, cut holes in them with dummy holes painted alongside, and then mounted them on motor lorries, so that eighteen soldiers at a time could be transported in noisy, uncomfortable safety through slum streets made deadly by sniper fire. Safety, that is, until the rebels cottoned on to the idea of firing not at the boilers but the drivers of the trucks. Inside the GPO the situation became increasingly desperate. The centre of Dublin became an inferno. All around the GPO as well as on the opposite side of Sackville Street, business premises were on fire. At night people standing on vantage points like Killiney Hill and Howth Head could clearly see Nelson standing atop his pillar, nine or ten miles away.
With a view not to depriving sightseers of a landmark, but to removing a symbol of British imperialism, the rebels made several efforts to blow up Nelson’s Pillar, but it survived these virtually unscathed. (Ironically enough, fifty years later when the country was at peace, the IRA decided to commemorate the Rising by making a successful onslaught on the Pillar.) The incessant bombardment made communication between the rebel strongpoints almost impossible.
As the week wore on, buildings facing the GPO were mistakenly evacuated when an order from Connolly to cease fire was mistranslated. However, when he called for Volunteers to reoccupy them, a party of thirteen Volunteers braved the flames and the bullets to retake some of the evacuated positions so that resistance could be put up should the British mount a charge across O’Connell Street. Only eight men managed to survive the crossing. Connolly did not expect his men to take risks which he would not take himself. Apart from directing the fire from inside the GPO, he constantly went outside the building, checking barricades or directing men into sniper positions.
Eventually, however, he paid the price for his courage. A ricocheting bullet caught him in the ankle as he stepped from his sheltered position in Middle Abbey Street to urge on a party of Volunteers. He had crawled over 100 yards in agony before he was spotted from the GPO and carried to relative safety. Here, his worst danger came from a medical student who had failed to qualify as a doctor after ten years of study. He made up a solution of chloroform which was so weak that the doctor who eventually did tend to him, Captain Mahony, a British officer whom the rebels had captured, later judged that it would have taken a lake of that solution to render Connolly unconscious. When Connolly came to, he told Mahony that he was the best thing the Volunteers had captured all week.56 But both Connolly and the Rising were now in a desperate state. His bodyguard, Harry Walpole, recorded that during the night he heard Connolly cry out: ‘Oh God, did ever a man suffer more for his country?’
He passed a wretched sleepless night in great pain from his injury, as did Plunkett, who nevertheless roused himself from his mattress to help direct the fighting while Connolly was recovering from the effects of shock and chloroform. On the morning of 28 April, Connolly insisted that despite his suffering, he must ‘give confidence to the Garrison’. He was placed on an iron bed and manhandled into the front hall where despite his obvious wounds, his appearance was a major morale booster. Hearing that he had reappeared, Harry Walpole made his way to his bedside and lit a cigarette for him. Connolly put down his detective story, took a deep drag and commented: ‘A book like this, plenty of rest and an insurrection – all at the same time. This certainly is Revolution de luxe.’
Sackville Street became an inferno. Landmark Dublin businesses collapsed on to the roadway in an avalanche of flames and smoking debris. Included in the debris were the molten remnants of the huge quantities of gold and silver ornaments, once kept safely in the jewellers Hopkins & Hopkins. Hoytes Oilworks just opposite the GPO shook the walls with a terrifying explosion as thousands of oil drums exploded simultaneously over Sackville Street. The heat inside the GPO became so intense that when hoses were turned on the window barricades to prevent them igniting, the water immediately turned into steam. As Plunkett looked out on the flames he commented: ‘It’s the first time it’s happened since Moscow – the first time a Capital has been burnt since then.’
Desmond Ryan, Pearse’s literary executor, who has left behind some of the best writings on Easter Week, described how Pearse reacted to the destruction. He praised The O’Rahilly for his gallantry in electing to share this Gethsemane with them, even though he had been against the Rising. He said:
Well, when we’re all wiped out, people will blame us for everything, I suppose, and condemn us. Yet if it hadn’t been for this protest, the war would have ended and nothing would have been done. After a few years people will see the meaning of all we tried to do… You know, Emmet’s insurrection is as
nothing to this. They will talk of Dublin in the future as one of the splendid cities – as they speak today of Paris. Dublin’s name will be glorious for ever!
As he spoke, two major Dublin premises, Clery’s Department Store and the Imperial Hotel, collapsed with a horrendous crashing sound, sending great gouts of fire hundreds of feet into the sky. Pearse fell silent, but Ryan noted how all around them the rebels drowned out the roar of the flames and of the guns with the song that became the Irish national anthem, The Soldiers Song:
Soldiers are we,
Whose lives are pledged to
Ireland. …!
The pledges were about to be called in. But first Pearse and Connolly issued more proclamations, which given the circumstances, might at first sight be taken as merely vying with each other in grandiloquence and unreality. However, apart from any morale-boosting effect they may have had on their soldiers at the time, they were to form a powerful part of the armoury of 1916 publications with which Sinn Fein protagonists were to advance on their opponents in the wake of the Rising. Connolly then dictated the following which reached Pearsian heights in its disregard for the reality of the rebels’ situation:
Army of the Irish Republic (Dublin Command)
Headquarters, April 28th, 1916
To Soldiers,
This is the fifth day of the establishment of the Irish Republic, and the flag of our country still floats from the most important buildings in Dublin, and is gallantly protected by the officers and Irish soldiers in arms throughout the country. Not a day passes without seeing fresh postings of Irish soldiers eager to do battle for the old cause. Despite the utmost vigilance of the enemy we have been able to get information telling us how the manhood of Ireland, inspired by our splendid action, are gathering to offer up their lives, if necessary, in this same holy cause. We are here hemmed in because the enemy feels in this building is to be found the heart and inspiration of our great movement.
Let us remind you of what you have done. For the first time in 700 years the flag of free Ireland floats triumphantly in Dublin City.
The British Army, whose exploits we are forever having dinned into our ears, which boasts of having stormed the Dardanelles and the German lines on the Marne, behind their artillery and machine-guns are afraid to advance to the attack or storm any positions held by our forces. The slaughter they have suffered in the last few days has totally unnerved them, and they dare not attempt again an infantry attack on our positions. Our Commandants around us are holding their own.
Commandant Daly’s splendid exploit in capturing Linenhall Barracks we all know. You must know also that the whole population, both clergy and laity, of this district are united in his praises. Commandant MacDonagh is established in an impregnable position reaching from the walls of Dublin Castle to Redmond’s Hill and from Bishop Street to Stephen’s Green.
(In Stephen’s Green, Commandant Mallin holds the College of Surgeons, one side of the square, a portion of the other side and dominates the whole Green and all its entrances and exits.) Commandant de Valera stretches in a position from the Gas works to Westland Row, holding Boland’s Bakery, Boland’s Mills, Dublin South-Eastern Railway Works and dominating Merrion Square.
Commandant Kent holds the South Dublin Union and Guinness’s Buildings in Marrowbone Lane and controls James Street and district.
On two occasions the enemy effected a lodgement and were driven out with great loss.
The men of North County Dublin are in the field, have occupied all the Police barracks in the district, destroyed all the telegram system on the Great Northern Railway up to Dundalk, and are operating against the trains of the Midland and Great Western.
Dundalk has sent 200 men to march upon Dublin, and in the other parts of the North our forces are active and growing.
In Galway Captain Mellowes, fresh after his escape from an English prison, is in the field with his men. Wexford and Wicklow are strong and Cork and Kerry are equally acquitting themselves creditably. (We have every confidence that our Allies in Germany and kinsmen in America are straining every nerve to hasten matters on our behalf.)
As you know, I was wounded twice yesterday, and am unable to move about, but have got my bed moved into the firing line, and with the assistance of your officers, will be just as useful to you as ever.
Courage, boys, we are winning, and in the hour of our victory, let us not forget the splendid women who have everywhere stood by us and cheered us on. Never had man or woman a grander cause, never was a cause more grandly served.
(Signed) James Connolly
Commandant-General
Dublin Division.
One of the few factual statements in that message was that concerning Commandant Edward Daly who was in charge of the Four Courts, Church Street, North King Street area which saw some of the bitterest fighting and, as we shall see, worst incidents of the Rising. Daly’s men did capture the Linenhall Barracks in a daring operation. Daly subsequently had it set alight, but then fearing that the flames would spread because the fire brigade was refusing to turn out, ordered his men to fight the blaze. This they did, under sustained fire from the military. Daly also saw to it that people in his area were fed by overseeing the distribution of bread, the traditional staple diet of the poor, from Monk’s Bakery which he had taken over. On the day that Connolly issued his statement a man arrived in Dublin whose orders would ensure that the fighting in Daly’s Command area would have consequences which would live in Irish memories long after the Rising ended. Those orders would also directly ensure that Daly and a number of others would not live long after the Rising ended.
The man was General Sir John Grenfell Maxwell, KCB, KCMG, whose career had been blighted because he was apportioned some of the blame for the slaughter of allied troops, including many Irish soldiers, by the Turks at Gallipoli. Maxwell had now been offered the opportunity of resuscitating his career by accepting the post of General Officer commanding all forces in Ireland, with authority to take any steps he deemed necessary to suppress the rebellion. This in effect placed Ireland under his control and rendered Birrell and Wimborne subject to his orders. When he arrived in Dublin in the small hours of that Friday morning, the place looked like an après-bombardment European city. Wrecked buildings and fires abounded as did artillery and rifle fire. Prompt action was called for. He issued a Proclamation:
The most vigorous measures will be taken by me to stop the loss of life and damage to property which certain misguided persons are causing in their armed resistance to the law. If necessary I shall not hesitate to destroy any buildings within any area occupied by the rebels and I warn all persons within the area specified below, and now surrounded by HM troops, forthwith to leave such area.
The warren of little streets behind the Four Courts, the North King Street area, was ‘surrounded by HM troops’. But even if the inhabitants had chosen to leave their tenement homes, which they had refused to do all week, and assuming that any of them ever heard of Maxwell’s Proclamation, the steadily increasing fighting would have ruled out any such attempt now. Their homes appeared to be the only safe haven in a world turned nightmarish. This would prove to be a mistaken belief, ironically, chiefly after the fighting ended.
Artillery shells had wreaked such havoc that the rebels could no longer control the fire in the GPO. Connolly was reduced to appointing a fifteen-year-old boy, Sean MacLoughlin, as a Commandant, an unusually brave and resourceful boy, but a fifteen-year-old nonetheless. In the evening it was decided to evacuate. The O’Rahilly led thirty men in a charge down Moore Street, twenty-one of whom became casualties, including O’Rahilly himself. Though mortally wounded, he managed to survive long enough to write a farewell letter to his wife, explaining why he had joined the Rising. The other leaders, Pearse, Connolly, Plunkett, Clarke and MacDermott managed to get to a fish shop, O’Hanlon’s, at No. 16, Moore Street.
Here a plan was agreed which would have entailed burrowing through a maze of streets in the area until they r
eached the Four Courts to link up with the garrison there for a final stand. It was daring and would certainly have entailed the loss of both Volunteer and civilian life, but it would have prolonged the Revolution. To the Provisional Government every hour gained, every shell fired, every building destroyed, indicated that the protest in arms was serious, that Ireland had a case, and that it should be heard at the Peace Conference. It has been suggested that Pearse decided to surrender, however, because he witnessed an incident which decided him against further fighting at the cost of civilian lives. A Moore Street publican carrying a white flag along with his wife and daughter, were cut down by the military as they fled the burning public house.
In a letter to his mother two days before he was shot Pearse wrote:57 ‘My own opinion was in favour of one more desperate sally before opening negotiations, but I yielded to the majority, and I think now the majority were right’. He ordered a ceasefire. Elizabeth O’Farrell, who had acted as a nurse all through the GPO fighting, was provided with a makeshift Red Cross insignia and a white flag, and instructed to inform the British that Pearse wanted to talk terms. The first waving of the flag provoked rifle fire from the British but the courageous young woman persisted and at 12.45 p.m on Saturday, 29 April, 1916 she stepped out into the open street and walked towards the soldiers.
The initial British response was not very reassuring. The first British officer she spoke to, a Colonel Hodgkin, began by telling her merely to go back and bring the other two women with the Volunteer party to safety with her. Then he remarked: ‘I suppose this will have to be reported’, a not unreasonable supposition in the circumstances. The Commanding Officer, Colonel Portal, the armoured car inventor, and Ms O’Farrell, then conducted the following dialogue.
1916- the Easter Rising Page 12