Proudly, without tears, she backed away and blew him a kiss as the officer closed the door.
For the first and only time, James Connolly, tough Union boss, rugged campaigner, military Commander of the Dublin Division of the Republican army, broke down and cried.
Outside, Lillie moaned, ‘I forgot to take a lock of his hair,’ and Sister Sullivan promised to send her one in the morning.
After swathing Connolly’s leg with bandages to cushion it for the journey to the jail, she snipped a lock of his hair and put it in an envelope with a note.
‘Dear Mrs Connolly, Enclosed you will find that which you asked me to get for you last night. I offer you my sincere sympathy in your great trouble.’
The ambulance took Lillie and Nora home through silent streets to a silent house. All the children were abed, not knowing what was happening.
The ambulance went on to Church Street where it picked up Fathers Aloysius and Sebastian and drove them to the Castle.
Father Aloysius went up, heard Connolly’s confession and gave him Holy Communion.
The officer said, ‘You’ll have to leave now, Padre. The prisoner has to be fed.’
The friar, shattered by this paradox, joined his confrère in the Castle Yard. There was a cold wind blowing.
For three hours, Sean and the Ryan sisters had talked and laughed without stop about everything: friends and foes, those in the rising and those who were not. They were so high-spirited, the soldier on guard was puzzled.
Their revels ended when an officer put his head round the door and nodded.
Sean wanted to send his friends a small souvenir. He asked the officer if, as a last wish, he might borrow a penknife. With it, he scratched on the inside of his cigarette case, ‘Sean McD 12–5–16.’
‘That,’ he said, ‘is for my brother, Jim.’
The girls picked a few pennies from their purses. Sean scratched on them and on the buttons of his coat – ‘I’ve no more use for them,’ he laughed – his initials, ‘S McD.’
‘Still not enough for all my friends.’
At 3 a.m., the Chaplain, Father McCarthy, came. The girls jumped up. It suddenly hit them that in minutes, dear, irrepressible Sean would be dead. Phyllis kissed him, then Mary held him very close, trying to imprint on her mind what his body felt like, every curve and muscle of it.
His parting words were, ‘We never thought it would end like this, that this would be the end.’
When the girls had gone, Father McCarthy gave him the sacraments.
At 3.30 a.m., Sean penned his last defiant letter:
I, Sean Mac Diarmada, before paying the penalty of death for my love of Ireland, and abhorrence of her slavery, desire to make known to all my fellow-countrymen that I die, as I have lived, bearing no malice to any man, and in perfect peace with Almighty God.
The principles for which I give my life are so sacred that I now walk to my death in the most calm and collected manner. I meet death for Ireland’s cause as I have worked for the same cause all my life. I have asked the Rev E. McCarthy who has prepared me to meet my God and who has given me courage to face the ordeal I am about to undergo, to convey this message to my fellow-countrymen. God save Ireland. Sean Mac Diarmada.
In the Castle, Connolly was carried from his room on a stretcher into the State Corridor, on to the Battleaxe Landing and down the Grand Staircase.
His swaying upturned gaze took in the beauty of murals, ceilings and chandeliers, the doric columns of the halls. It was odd that his first home was in an Edinburgh slum and his last the most regal edifice in Ireland.
In the Upper Yard, he was put in an ambulance. The two friars and his surgeon friend, Tobin, went with him.
Father Aloysius, so young and gentle, on that brief, rocky drive through the silent streets could hardly believe this cruel thing was happening.
He found himself saying, over and over, ‘No, no, no, no, no.’
At the jail, Sean, accompanied by the Chaplain, limped his way to the Stonebreakers’ Yard.
The time was 3.45 a.m.
At Bill O’Brien’s house, Lillie and Nora were on their knees at a window facing east. With the first rays of the rising sun, as if even in sleep a voice spoke to them, the children filed into the room, rubbing their eyes. Ina and Roddy and Agna and Aideen and Moira and even little Fiona who was only seven.
‘What’s up, Mommy?’ ‘Why aren’t you undressed?’
Lillie tried to gather them all in her arms at once.
‘It’s Daddy,’ said Nora.
Several horrified voices said at once, ‘They’re not going to kill our Daddy!’
Their father’s ambulance was timed with military precision to arrive as soon as McDermott’s body was put on a stretcher with a blanket over him and borne away in the early light.
Connolly was the only one of the rebel leaders not to be imprisoned in Kilmainham. The ambulance bringing him backed into the yard and dipped its headlights as if in mourning. In the opaline gold-edged dawn even black buildings seemed transparent.
Surgeon Tobin, his white hair ruffled by the wind, supervised as Connolly was taken out and placed in a chair. There was a tender irony in the way the bearers were solicitous for his mummified leg.
Tobin was wondering, If I had amputated, would they still have had the nerve to shoot him?
Connolly, a forlorn figure, was propped up in the chair and roped to the back to prevent him falling off. He looked neat and tidy in his new pyjamas.
As he was being blindfolded, Father Aloysius was thinking how brave and cool he was.
To save the condemned man unnecessary pain, he was to be shot near the gate where he had entered. The other rebels had been executed at the opposite end of the yard.
The firing squad was marched in and stood to attention. Some were disturbed to see the condition of the man they were about to shoot.
Father Aloysius, sympathetic even to the plight of the young soldiers, said to Connolly, ‘Will you pray for these men who are about to shoot you?’
He answered, ‘I will say a prayer for all brave men who do their duty.’
Father Aloysius thought that chimed in perfectly with the Lord’s own prayer, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ It reinforced his feeling that this was not an end but a consummation.
The priests took their places behind the firing squad.
The Chaplain, who had just given the last rites to McDermott, said, ‘Don’t worry, Father, I will do the anointing afterwards.’
His thumb was still moist with blood and holy oil.
It depressed the young friar to think that, having shot a cripple, they were about to kill a badly wounded man and a champion of God’s poor.
The priests stood side by side as Connolly seemed to lift himself a little and straighten in preparation for the end.
The firing squad aimed and fired.
Connolly slumped in the chair against the ropes, his body twitching.
The officer next to the priests stepped forward, his pistol raised.
That final bullet exploding in Connolly’s brain broke the last of Ireland’s chains.
POSTSCRIPT
What Happened Next
IRELAND: In 1917, all the Irish prisoners held on mainland Britain were released.
Ireland was still a long way from achieving autonomy. The bitter War of Independence lasted from 1919 to 1921 with massacres on both the British and the Irish sides. This was followed by Civil War which ended in 1923.
It was not until 1949 that Dail Eireann, the Irish Parliament, finally declared Ireland to be a Republic and withdrew from the British Commonwealth.
Birrell, Augustine: In 1929, he was entertained by Nathan for his seventy-ninth birthday. That year, the Senate of the University of Ireland which he founded made him a Doctor of Literature. The Irish Sea was too rough for him, so the degree was given him in absentia. He died aged eighty-four.
Blackwood, Lord Basil: He got his wish and joined the Grenad
ier Guards. He was killed before the 3rd Battle of Ypres on 3 July 1917.
Bowen-Colthurst, Captain: Enquiry into the death of Sheehy-Skeffington led to his court martial, but, on the evidence of two Dublin doctors, he was found to be insane. He was sentenced to stay in Broadmoor ‘at the King’s Pleasure’. Released after twenty months, he emigrated to Canada where he received a military pension.
Brugha, Cathal: He survived the rising, only to be shot dead by fellow Irishmen in the Civil War.
Casement, Roger: During his trial, fragments of his Black Diaries were circulated as part of a smear campaign against him. News of them reached influential people, including the American President, effectively warning them not to intercede on his behalf. He was hanged in Pentonville Prison, London, on 3 August 1916. On 23 February 1965, his remains were returned to Ireland where he was given a funeral, the like of which had not been seen since that of O’Donovan Rossa. A sick and jaundiced President de Valera, aged eighty-two, insisted on attending with head uncovered, in spite of the sleet and snow, and delivered the oration.
Childers, Erskine: In the Irish Civil War, he joined the Republican Army. Captured by the Free State soldiers, he was court-martialled and executed at Beggars Bush Barracks on 24 November 1922. He first shook hands with every member of the firing squad. His son, also called Erskine, was to become President of Ireland.
Clarke, Kathleen: She lived to a great age, becoming a Senator in the Irish Parliament and twice Lord Mayor of Dublin.
Collins, Michael: In the Civil War, he was Commander-in-Chief of the Free State forces. He was killed in an ambush in County Cork on 22 September 1922.
de Valera, Eamon: He formed his own Fianna Fail party in 1926. He became Prime Minister in 1932 and President of Ireland in 1957. He died aged ninety-two in 1975.
Kilmainham Jail: in 1920, the jail housed Irish Republican Army prisoners. When Civil War broke out in 1922, women were imprisoned there, including Grace Plunkett. On 17 November, the first executions of the Civil War took place there. The last political prisoner, in 1923, was Eamon de Valera. It was finally closed in 1924. Today it is a National Museum.
MacBride, Sean: the son of Major MacBride returned to Ireland and fought on the Republican side in the Civil War. He became Ireland’s Foreign Minister (1948–51) and in 1974 received the Nobel Peace Prize.
McDonagh, Muriel: Thomas’s widow was drowned in a swimming accident the year after the rising.
MacNeill, John: Court-martialled by the British on 24 May 1916 and sentenced to life imprisonment, he was released in 1917. In 1919, he became Minister of Finance in the First Dail, the Irish Parliament. He retired from politics in 1927 and died in 1945.
Markievicz, Constance: Released after a year of her life term, she was often in prison. She became a Catholic. In 1918, she was the first woman to be elected to the British House of Commons, though she never took her seat. She was on the Republican side in the Civil War and later in de Valera’s Cabinet. She died by choice among the poor in a public ward of Sir Patrick Dun’s Hospital in Dublin in 1927. Many thousands marched with her funeral cortège to burial at Glasnevin.
Mallin, Michael: His son, Joseph, did become a priest. His unborn child was a girl and, as he had requested, was christened Maura (an Irish form of Mary).
Mellowes, Liam: He survived the Rising which he led in Galway. He was on the Republican side in the Civil War and was executed by firing squad in Mountjoy Prison in 1922.
Monteith, Robert: He remained at large after the Rising and reached America in December 1916. He died on 18 February 1956, the same day as Judge Humphreys who sentenced Casement to death. Buried with him was a small, sea-stained tricolour found on Casement when he was arrested.
Nathan, Sir Matthew: Though he never returned to Ireland, he was reinstated to become, first, Secretary of the War Pensions Department and, later, Governor of Queensland and Chancellor of its University. He was Vice-President of the Royal Geographical Society from 1929–32. He died in England in 1939.
Pearse, Margaret: Pearse’s elder sister helped Mrs Pearse to continue, with difficulties, St Enda’s which they bought in 1920. She became an Irish Senator, and when she died in 1932, the school was turned into a National Museum to commemorate Patrick Pearse, first President of the Republic.
Plunkett, Grace: After her brief marriage to Joe, she never remarried. She was on the Republican side during the Civil War when, ironically, she was herself imprisoned in Kilmainham Jail.
Sheehy-Skeffington, Hanna: She was asked by Asquith at 10 Downing Street if she would forego an enquiry into her husband’s death, accepting £10,000 compensation instead. He said to her: ‘Nothing we can do can bring your husband back; you have a boy to educate; this is wartime and the prestige of the Army must be upheld.’ Relatives of others murdered with her husband accepted. Hanna refused.
Sheehy-Skeffington, Owen: Skeffy’s son became a Senator and a distinguished French scholar, without any rancour towards the British.
Shephard, Gordon: In 1917, aged thirty-two, he became the youngest Brigadier-General in the British army. He won the MC, DSO, Chevalier of the Legion of Honour. He died on 19 January 1918, when his plane crashed near Bailleul.
Stack, Austin: His sentence of death was commuted to twenty years hard labour but he was released under the amnesty of 1917. He went on five hunger strikes, under the British and during the Civil War. On the fourth of them, he was elected as Dail Deputy for Kerry. He married in 1925 and four years later died, aged forty-nine, chiefly of ulcers caused by his hunger strikes.
Wimborne, Lord: After Maxwell left Ireland, he was recalled for a time as Viceroy to Dublin and dubbed by the locals ‘The Rebounder’. He was forced to resign over some personal misadventure in 1918 and was replaced by Sir John French. He died in 1939.
Wilson, Captain Lee: In 1920, Michael Collins ordered his execution. It was done.
Two final footnotes:
Nelson’s Pillar: At 1.32 in the morning of Tuesday 8 March 1966, the fiftieth anniversary of the rising, it was blown up by persons officially unknown but quite certainly the IRA.
The Asgard, which brought arms into Howth: It now rests in Kilmainham Jail next to the Stonebreakers’ Yard where the leaders of the Easter Rising were shot.
General Sir John Maxwell (Illustration 1.1)
Erskine Childers (in oilskins) unloading arms from the Asgard at Howth (Illustration 1.2)
Sir Edward Carson addressing an anti-Home Rule rally in 1913 (Illustration 1.3)
Patrick Pearse after his oration at the funeral of O’Donovan Rossa (Illustration 1.4)
John Redmond (Illustration 1.5)
Augustine Birrell (Illustration 1.6)
Sir Matthew Nathan (l.) with Augustine Birrell (Illustration 1.7)
Lord Wimborne (Illustration 1.8)
Admiral Sir Reginald Hall (Illustration 1.9)
Sir Roger Casement (Illustration 1.10)
Casement (without cap) aboard the German submarine U-19 (Illustration 1.11)
Eoin MacNeill (Illustration 1.12)
The Countess Markievicz with her daughter and stepson (Illustration 1.13)
Sheehy-Skeffington with Captain White, a British soldier who trained the Irish Citizen Army (Illustration 1.14)
The O’Rahilly (Illustration 1.15)
Patrick Pearse surrendering to General Lowe (Illustration 1.16)
The Countess Markievicz (second from r.) after her surrender (Illustration 1.17)
Eamon de Valera under prisoner’s escort (Illustration 1.18)
Father John O’Flanagan (Illustration 1.19)
Willie (l.) and Patrick Pearse (Illustration 1.20)
Tom Clarke (Illustration 1.21)
Joseph Plunkett (Illustration 1.22)
Thomas MacDonagh (Illustration 1.23)
Edward Daly (Illustration 1.24)
John (Sean) MacBride (Illustration 1.25)
Eamonn Kent (Illustration 1.26)
Cornelius Colbert (Illustration 1.27)
&nbs
p; Sean McDermott (Illustration 1.28)
James Connolly (Illustration 1.29)
TO IRISH PEOPLE
EVERYWHERE
WITH PROFOUND RESPECT
SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY
Arthur, Sir George The Life of Lord Kitchener, London, 1920.
General Sir John Maxwell, London, 1932.
Asquith, H. H. Letters to Venetia Stanley, Oxford, 1982.
Asquith, Margot Autobiography, London, 1936.
Balfour, Michael The Kaiser and His Times, London, 1966.
Bayly, Admiral Sir Lewis Pull Together!, London, 1939.
Bernstorff, Graf von My Three Years in America, New York, 1920.
Memoirs, New York, 1936.
Berresford Ellis, P. (ed.) James Connolly: Selected Writings, London, 1973.
Bethmann-Hollweg, Theobald von Reflections on the World War, 2 vols., London, 1920.
Birkenhead, 1st Earl of Contemporary Personalities, London, 1924.
Birrell, Augustine Things Past Redress, London, 1937.
Bourke, Marcus The O’Rahilly, Tralee, 1967.
Bülow, Bernhard Fürst von Memoirs 1910–19, 4 vols., Boston, 1931–2.
Caulfield, Max The Easter Rebellion, London, 1965.
Churchill, Winston Spencer The World Crisis, 4 vols., London, 1960.
Clarke, Thomas J. Glimpses of an Irish Felon’s Prison Life, Dublin, 1982.
Coffey, T. M. Agony at Easter, New York, 1969.
Collins, James Life in Old Dublin, Dublin, 1913.
Connolly, James Labour, Nationality and Religion, Dublin, 1910.
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