Archive for 1916 Easter Rising

The Dream of the Celt

Posted in History, LGBTQ+, Literature with tags , , , on October 8, 2023 by telescoper

Knowing that I would be spending even less time watching TV while in Barcelona than I would back in Maynooth, I packed a number of books from the substantial pile that I haven’t yet got around to. The first I’ve finished is The Dream of the Celt by Peruvian author Mario Vargos Llosa which tells the fascinating but ultimately tragic story of Roger Casement using a mixture of thoroughly researched journalistic reportage and fictionalized extrapolations that try to bring this enigmatic character to life.

Roger Casement was born in Sandycove, Dublin, but spent some of his childhood in England. He served with great distinction as a diplomat, and a fierce advocated of human rights, first in the Congo, where he compiled a devastating report of the brutal exploitation of indigenous people, and then in Peru where he exposed even worse cruelty being exacted on native men women and children who were used as forced labour in the rubber plantations. He was knighted in 1911 for his humanitarian efforts.

When he first started out in the diplomatic service, Casement apparently believed that colonization would be a civilizing influence, bringing free trade, the rule of law, and Christianity instead of repression and violence. His bitter experience changed his view entirely, and he became increasingly associated with the cause of England’s first colony, and became a fervent advocate of Irish nationalism. He found himself travelling to Germany during the First World War to procure arms for an Irish rebellion and to raise an Irish Regiment from Irish prisoners of war captured fighting for the British. In the latter he was not successful – he persuaded only about 50 POWs to join the cause. He did succeed in obtaining weapons but the ship smuggling them to Ireland was intercepted and scuttled to avoid the weapons falling into British hands.

Incidentally, Casement was against the Easter Rising of 1916. He thought it would be futile unless it could be combined with a German attack on England. Ireland was not sufficiently important geopolitically for the Kaiser to mount such an operation. The other leaders of the Rising wanted Casement to stay in Germany as it proceeded but he travelled to Ireland in a submarine, was captured, tried for high treason, found guilty, and hanged at Pentonville Prison on 3rd August 1916. He was 51. His executioner later remarked that he was ‘‘the bravest man it fell to my unhappy lot to execute.’

W.B. Yeats wrote a poem about Roger Casement, the last verse of which is:

Come speak your bit in public
That some amends be made
To this most gallant gentleman
That is in quicklime laid.

Leading up to Casement’s execution there was a concerted campaign for clemency, i.e. the commutation of his death sentence, as had happened with some involved directly in the rebellion. But then came the Black Diaries. Parts of these, describing in Casement’s own words his many sexual adventures with men and boys, were leaked to the press by British intelligence services. At a time when homosexuality was still a crime, that effectively ended any hope of avoiding the gallows. The Black Diaries are of questionable authenticity, and many who believe they were genuine think Casement was merely writing about fantasies rather than reality. Maybe writing about things he couldn’t do was a way for him to relieve sexual tension? We’ll never know for sure.

After his execution Casement’s body was subject to a rectal examination to ascertain whether he had had anal sex as described in the books. He was buried in an unmarked grave and it wasn’t until 1965 that his remains were returned to Ireland to be interred at Glasnevin cemetery.

The author tells this story by interspersing Casement’s last weeks and months in Pentonville with flashbacks to his time in the Congo, the Peru, Germany and Ireland. The protagonist did write extensive notes on his travels but they are somewhat disorganized, so he had to make reasonable guesses to fill in the gaps. The conversations with other characters are imagined to make it seem more like a novel than a straight historical biography. This approach makes for a fascinating read, although I did find it somewhat repetitive in places.

Sir Roger Casement, as reconstructed in this book, is a fascinating character, but how close the account is to how he really was as a person is something we’ll never know. In a strange way, that mystery is part of the appeal.

The Rising Trees

Posted in Biographical, History with tags , , , on May 2, 2023 by telescoper
The Shelbourne Hotel, viewed through the trees at the North-East corner of St Stephen’s Green

I was a bit early arriving into Dublin for the concert on Friday so decided to take a walk around St Stephen’s Green. It was a pleasant evening, and the park was quite busy with people, some sitting on the grass and some strolling around as I was. This was 28th April 2023.

The scene must have been very different 107 years ago. The Easter Rising of 1916 started on Easter Monday (24th April of that year), and ended on Saturday 29th. St Stephen’s Green was a focus of the first day of hostilities, as I blogged about here. It is obvious why the rebel forces considered this park an important location to control as it is at the junction of several main roads. On the other hand if you actually visit the location you will see a big problem, namely that the Green itself is surrounded on all sides by very tall buildings, including the swanky Shelbourne Hotel to the North.

When a contingent of about 120 members of the Citizens Army arrived in St Stephen’s Green on Easter Monday, 24th April 1916, they immediately began erecting barricades outside, and digging trenches inside, the Park. They did not, however, have the numbers needed to seize and hold the buildings around it except for the Royal College of Surgeons building to the West.

The following morning, Tuesday 25th April, the British moved two machine guns into position, one in the Shelbourne Hotel (on the 4th floor) and the other in the United Services club, along with numerous snipers. According to eyewitness accounts, almost every window in the hotel had a sniper in it. From these vantage points British soldiers could shoot down into the Park, making it impossible for the rebels to move around safely. The position inside the Green being untenable the Rebels effected an orderly (but perilous) withdrawal to the Royal College of Surgeons which they had fortified for the purpose. And that’s where they stayed until the surrender at the end of the Rising.

St Stephen’s Green is full of mature trees – there are about 750 at present – which would have been in full leaf at the time. Something I have occasionally wondered about is the extent to which the trees in late April might have afforded the rebels cover from the snipers and machine guns aimed into the park. It being the same time of year when I visited on Friday, and assuming the trees looked roughly the same as in 1916, I had a look around to see what protection they might have offered.

The answer, as you can see from the photo, is not very much…

An interview with Éamon de Valera

Posted in History with tags , on November 8, 2020 by telescoper

I thought I’d share this old film that I came across a few days ago. It dates from 1955, at which time Éamon de Valera was leader of the opposition. It is quite a strange film. Notice how the camera position keeps changing as does the placing of the interviewer (Professor Curtis Baker Bradford), who at one point is standing up near to the sitting interviewee in a way that looks very unnatural. Notices the frequent changes of camera angle too. I’m guessing they had to change reels quite frequently and the camera operator used those opportunities to change the set up. It all looks rather stilted with de Valera not at all relaxed but that might have been typical of him. He seems particularly uncomfortable, though, talking about the Easter Rising of 1916: notice how he skips from the Proclamation of the Republic directly to the surrender. I’ve heard it said that Éamon de Valera was not a particularly effective leader of the battalion at he commanded Boland’s Mill during the uprising (which would not be surprising because he had no real military training). Some even say that he had some sort of breakdown while under fire and couldn’t really function during the fighting. It may just be what his political opponents who spread that around, of course. Nobody who wasn’t there will ever really know.

P.S. Apart from anything else, this film shows what a great job Alan Rickman did at “doing” Éamon de Valera in the film Michael Collins

A Revolutionary Manhole Cover

Posted in Architecture, History, Maynooth with tags , , , , , on August 20, 2020 by telescoper

I must have walked dozens of times past the above manhole cover on Maynooth University’s North Campus without paying too much attention. Then I noticed a post on Twitter of another such cover in County Kerry, in the thread following which someone mentioned one on Maynooth campus so I thought I’d take a picture of it. They must have been made for the centenary commemorations in 2016. There’s more than a hint of Soviet-style design in the artwork.

The figure depicts Eamon Bulfin raising the flag of Irish Republic above the GPO on Easter Monday 1916, the start of the Easter Rising. After the end of the rising Bulfin was condemned to death, but his sentence was commuted and, after being imprisoned in Britain for a time, he was deported to Argentina. He returned to Ireland when the Irish Free State in 1922 where he lived until his death in 1968.

 

The Slouch Hat Question

Posted in History with tags , , , on March 29, 2020 by telescoper

Yesterday I was reading a book about Irish history – I’m reading quite a lot these days – and was intrigued by the headgear worn by members of the Citizens Army during the 1916 Easter Rising:

This type of broad-brimmed hat seems to have been quite thing among volunteers of the time:

Described as a ‘Boer Hat as worn by the American Army’ (?) this is usually called a ‘Slouch Hat’ and is also associated with the Australian Army and other Commonwealth forces.

I can understand the utility of the broad brim in hotter climes though not perhaps in Ireland…

The main question that struck me, though, is why it is so often worn with the brim folded up on one side?

See if you can guess. I reveal the answer below.

Continue reading

Margaret Skinnider – in her own words

Posted in History with tags , , on June 20, 2019 by telescoper

A few weeks ago, occasioned by a stroll around St Stephen’s Green in Dublin, I put up a post that included the the remarkable story of Margaret Skinnider.

Before the 1916 Easter Rising Margaret Skinnider was a school teacher. During the hostilities she initially acted as a scout and a runner, carrying messages to and from the GPO, but when given the chance she proved herself a crack shot with a rifle and showed conspicuous courage during the heavy fighting in and around St Stephen’s Green. In particular, on 27th April she lead a squad of men in an extremely dangerous mission against a British machine gun position, during which she was hit three times by rifle bullets and very badly wounded.

Anyway, I found this fascinating recording of Margaret Skinnider herself telling the story of her part in the 1916 Easter Rising.

After the War of Independence and the subsequent Civil War were over, Margaret Skinnider returned to her career as a primary school teacher. She died in 1971.