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1916 - The Official Thread

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  • Originally posted by KatieMorag View Post
    I just broke my Rising mug.....
    Political act or hate crime ?
    Everything is self-evident.

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    • Originally posted by cogito View Post
      Political act or hate crime ?
      clumsiness........

      Comment


      • Originally posted by KatieMorag View Post
        clumsiness........
        I was thinking for The Bugle something along the lines of.
        .. 'LOCAL WOMAN SMASHES EIRE HISTORICAL ARTIFACT'... that sort of thing.
        Everything is self-evident.

        Comment


        • Originally posted by cogito View Post
          I was thinking for The Bugle something along the lines of.
          .. 'LOCAL WOMAN SMASHES EIRE HISTORICAL ARTIFACT'... that sort of thing.
          Or "The Fall of the GPO", perhaps........

          Comment


          • ....
            Attached Files
            "Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, misdiagnosing it, and then misapplying the wrong remedies.”

            Comment


            • "Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it everywhere, misdiagnosing it, and then misapplying the wrong remedies.”

              Comment


              • RTE News
                A unique collection of autograph books owned by prisoners at the time of the Easter Rising is now available to view online.

                The Office of Public Works says the website offers a fascinating insight into the the lives of those who were imprisoned during the period 1916 to 1918.

                It covers a variety of different prisons and places of incarceration, as well as focusing on the lives of the prisoners themselves.

                Niall Bergin from Kilmainham Gaol Museum said the original autograph books are the most requested items to view in the Gaol's archive.

                "People always have stories along the lines of 'my great great grandfather was involved in 1916'. But they can't find the records in the military archives or in the UK archives at Kew. However, that great great grandfather might just appear in one of our autograph books," he said.

                It was very common in the early 20th Century for people to own an autograph book.

                The OPW says this collection features pictures, poems and political statements, as well as signatures.

                In total, the Kilmainham Gaol Museum autograph book collection contains over 12,000 names of those who were incarcerated between 1916 and 1923.

                The new website will be expanded to include additional autograph books in the coming years.

                Comment


                • great stuff Napper. I love seeing the shaky messages by the people who've been injured in their right hands and have to use their left. Brings them to life, if that's not too much of a cliche.

                  Comment


                  • Easter, 1916

                    BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

                    I have met them at close of day
                    Coming with vivid faces
                    From counter or desk among grey
                    Eighteenth-century houses.
                    I have passed with a nod of the head
                    Or polite meaningless words,
                    Or have lingered awhile and said
                    Polite meaningless words,
                    And thought before I had done
                    Of a mocking tale or a gibe
                    To please a companion
                    Around the fire at the club,
                    Being certain that they and I
                    But lived where motley is worn:
                    All changed, changed utterly:
                    A terrible beauty is born.

                    That woman's days were spent
                    In ignorant good-will,
                    Her nights in argument
                    Until her voice grew shrill.
                    What voice more sweet than hers
                    When, young and beautiful,
                    She rode to harriers?
                    This man had kept a school
                    And rode our wingèd horse;
                    This other his helper and friend
                    Was coming into his force;
                    He might have won fame in the end,
                    So sensitive his nature seemed,
                    So daring and sweet his thought.
                    This other man I had dreamed
                    A drunken, vainglorious lout.
                    He had done most bitter wrong
                    To some who are near my heart,
                    Yet I number him in the song;
                    He, too, has resigned his part
                    In the casual comedy;
                    He, too, has been changed in his turn,
                    Transformed utterly:
                    A terrible beauty is born.

                    Hearts with one purpose alone
                    Through summer and winter seem
                    Enchanted to a stone
                    To trouble the living stream.
                    The horse that comes from the road,
                    The rider, the birds that range
                    From cloud to tumbling cloud,
                    Minute by minute they change;
                    A shadow of cloud on the stream
                    Changes minute by minute;
                    A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
                    And a horse plashes within it;
                    The long-legged moor-hens dive,
                    And hens to moor-cocks call;
                    Minute by minute they live:
                    The stone's in the midst of all.

                    Too long a sacrifice
                    Can make a stone of the heart.
                    O when may it suffice?
                    That is Heaven's part, our part
                    To murmur name upon name,
                    As a mother names her child
                    When sleep at last has come
                    On limbs that had run wild.
                    What is it but nightfall?
                    No, no, not night but death;
                    Was it needless death after all?
                    For England may keep faith
                    For all that is done and said.
                    We know their dream; enough
                    To know they dreamed and are dead;
                    And what if excess of love
                    Bewildered them till they died?
                    I write it out in a verse—
                    MacDonagh and MacBride
                    And Connolly and Pearse
                    Now and in time to be,
                    Wherever green is worn,
                    Are changed, changed utterly:
                    A terrible beauty is born.
                    I google because I'm not young enough to know everything.
                    Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

                    Comment


                    • This is a still from one of the newsreels from Dublin 1916. It shows ANZAC troops walking from Trinity, after it was over.
                      Attached Files
                      I google because I'm not young enough to know everything.
                      Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

                      Comment


                      • The golden locket, the hidden grave and the forgotten soldier
                        History refuses to be done with the fate of Guy Pinfield, an English officer killed in Dublin Castle on the first day of the Easter Rising.

                        On Easter Monday, April 24th, 1916, as the independent Irish Republic was being declared from the steps of the GPO in Sackville Street, a young British army officer was preparing to go on duty.
                        Lieut Guy Vickery Pinfield was 21 years old, a rugby-playing former student of Cambridge University. He had received his commission as a second lieutenant into the 8th King’s Royal Irish Hussars at the outbreak of war in 1914. A year later he was posted to the 10th Reserve Cavalry Regiment at the Curragh Camp in Co Kildare.
                        Born in Bishops Stortford, Hertfordshire in 1895, Pinfield came from a successful and prosperous family that had made their money through tea plantations in the Indian province of Assam. Like many other young men of the regiment, he was waiting for his orders to move to the front. The conflict had been raging for two years and he was concerned that the war would be over before he got a chance to join in.
                        On April 24th, 1916, news reached the Curragh that a rebellion had erupted in Dublin city and reinforcements were needed urgently. Pinfield was posted to the city by train and was sent to Dublin Castle.
                        Shortly before midday, a section from the Irish Citizen Army commanded by Abbey actor, Séan Connolly, occupied City Hall and other strategic positions in the area. An unarmed RIC man, James O’Brien was shot dead as he attempted to close the gates of Dublin Castle. The guardroom of the complex was rushed by a number of armed Volunteers.
                        From these posts, Connolly’s men kept up a relentless fire against British forces in the Castle. Pinfield was ordered to lead an attack with the objective of securing the main gate of the Castle and the guardhouse. Under heavy fire, the platoon moved towards the gate but Pinfield was shot and fell to the ground mortally wounded.
                        A section of his unit moved forward and laid down strong covering fire while another group of them managed to pull their dying officer into cover. Francis Sheehy Skeffington, the well-known pacifist, braved the hail of gunfire to bring aid to the stricken officer, but it was too late. The platoon fell back having suffered one officer killed, another officer wounded and roughly 30 ordinary ranks wounded.
                        As the rebellion raged throughout Easter Week, those that had fallen were hastily buried in the grounds of the complex. Pinfield’s body was wrapped in a winding sheet and interred in a temporary grave in the Castle gardens like many other British soldiers.
                        After the Rising, the families of the dead came to the Castle to reclaim the bodies and at the end of the month, those unclaimed were reinterred at the British military cemetery at Blackhorse Avenue, Grangegorman. However, the bodies of Pinfield and another four officers, Godfrey Hunter (26), Algernon Lucas (37), Philip Addison (20) and Basil Worsley-Worswick (35), remained in Dublin Castle, unclaimed. Granite slabs recorded the names, regiments and dates of death of the five officers.
                        There they remained, as the formal garden slowly succumbed to the elements, over decades of neglect. Their temporary graves were rediscovered by chance in 1962 on what was by that time deemed waste ground. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission made arrangements for them to be exhumed and reburied within Grangegorman cemetery. On May 17th, 1963, the five men were buried with the distinctive Commonwealth War Grave headstones marking their final resting place.
                        Pinfield was not forgotten. Soon after his death in 1916 the Illustrated London News published his photo on their Roll of Honour. His obituary in The Times announced the much loved only son of Mrs P Russell had been killed in action in Ireland. At Marlborough College his name appears with 742 others who lost their lives during the Great War. Fellow officers erected a plaque to his memory within St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin, the only plaque in the cathedral connected to the Easter Rising.
                        In his home town of Bishops Stortford, his name appears in the local church and town war memorial. His old rugby club at Rosslyn Park also have his name on their memorial. But for the wider world he would have remained another unknown statistic of the Irish Easter Rising if it were not for the 2011 auction in Essex of a locket which prompted a number of researchers to investigate his story.
                        The 15-carat gold memorial locket sold for £850 (€1,008) and carries his image. It is engraved with the words of the Hussars’ motto “ Pristinae Virtutis memores ” (the memory of former valour). His initials “GVP” and his place and date of death, Dublin April 24th, 1916, are also to be found on the locket which his mother wore throughout her life.
                        A letter to her from a brother officer may disclose one of the reasons why his body was not removed from the castle and repatriated to England. The officer states that Pinfield’s remains were to be buried within the Castle environs in consecrated ground, a fitting resting place as it was just a few feet from where he fell. It is possible that Pinfield’s mother took solace in this and left the remains of her son where she believed they would be tended by the military.
                        To most of the world the 1916 Easter Rising was overshadowed by events on the Western Front later that year. The Battle of the Somme followed that summer and the 116 British soldiers killed during the insurrection in Dublin city were listed as “killed at home”. The British military and government were reluctant to remember soldiers killed in Dublin during the rebellion, as the event had caused some embarrassment.
                        The locket sold to an unknown Irish bidder.
                        History refuses to be done with the fate of Guy Pinfield, an English officer killed in Dublin Castle on the first day of the Easter Rising
                        Attached Files
                        Last edited by jembo; 27-08-2017, 08:28 AM.
                        I google because I'm not young enough to know everything.
                        Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

                        Comment


                        • Voices of 1916: 'Crying, terrified children came to us for shelter'
                          Fr Aloysius Travers was at lunch when he heard the first shots of the Rising. By the end, he was accompanying Volunteer leaders to their execution.

                          Fr Aloysius Travers, originally William Travers from Cork, was a Capuchin cleric who founded the Feis Maitiú, a Gaelic cultural festival which still exists today.

                          He was at lunch at the friary on Church Street in north inner Dublin when the first volley of shots was fired nearby.

                          By the end of the Rising, Fr Aloysius would be chaplain to the leaders, hearing the last confession of Pearse, MacDonagh and Connolly, and accompanying Connolly in the ambulance car that bore him to Kilmainham for execution.

                          Here he remembers the shock of that first day, when the Rising erupted outside his door:

                          Easter Monday – I walked over to Gloucester Street to say Mass at the Convent. On my way I noticed some Fianna scouts on bicycles and, later, passing to Gloucester Street, I met Padraig Pearse and another Volunteer on bicycles. They rode by without recognising me – they were evidently intent on reaching their objective in time.

                          Padraig Pearse wore a loose overcoat or makintosh [sic] which covered some baggage. They had come into Gloucester Street from Rutland Street, I understand, and the volunteer who accompanied Padraig, I was later informed, was Willie Pearse.

                          I at once concluded that there was something in the air – probably they had decided to attempt the parade in spite of the authorities. On my way back to Church Street I passed several individual volunteers – some on bicycles.

                          Shortly after 12 o’clock as we were at luncheon we were startled by rifle fire; and very soon word was brought to the Friary that a little boy had been shot near the Father Mathew Hall, and a wounded man was also brought to the Friary, and a number of terrified children, crying, came to us for shelter.

                          By 1.30pm, barricades had been erected in Church Street and were manned by Volunteers. The Father Mathew Feis was in session and the children were hastily got under the stage for safety until it was judged wise to send them home.

                          An Australian who happened to be in Dublin passing through Church Street stopped to speak to me – I was standing at the Church gate. He told me that he was a doctor and he offered his services to render any assistance needed. He attended to the wounded man who had been brought to the Friary. Towards night volleys of firing became more frequent – and at midnight it became so violent that it seemed to be at our very gates.

                          The child who died near Fr Mathew Hall was two-year-old Sean Foster, shot in the head as his mother Katie wheeled him towards the Hall where she had been due to attend the Feis as a member of the choral society.

                          The Hall became a makeshift hospital where Fr Aloysius and his four Capuchin colleagues gave shelter to wounded citizens, who were tended to by members of Cumann na mBan. Still the British Army would not allow the dispatch of a doctor beyond the barricades to Church Street.

                          The reply was: The military would grant none of the amenities of war but would treat them [the wounded] as outlaws and rebels.

                          Fr Aloysius decided to take action, taking to the bullet-strafed streets with his colleague Fr Augustine to secure passage for the most serious cases to Richmond Hospital.

                          By the end of the week, the esteem in which the priests were held made them trusted intermediaries between Pearse and Connolly and they were allowed to relay the message of surrender to Thomas MacDonagh in Jacob’s factory and to Eamonn Ceannt in the South Dublin Union.

                          It was at Jacob’s that Fr Aloysius came across looters – their behaviour, in contrast to the sacrifice and suffering he had witnessed all week – led to a moment of intense anger:

                          The Volunteers were lined up in [the] basement prepared to leave. Fr Augustine was taking messages from them for their relatives. Fr Monahan had arrived to offer his services.

                          Suddenly we heard a tremendous crash and sounds like bombs exploding, and a volunteer came to tell us that the looters had smashed the window and were breaking in to the offices at the Bishop Street side. Fr Monahan and myself went at once and with difficulty got to the scene as a water main had been burst and the place was flooded.

                          The looters were busy and we found them getting out into the street with the stolen goods. I stood at the window and addressed them – if ever I managed to put fire into my words it was then.

                          Side by side with the manly and straightforward conduct of those who had borne the brunt of the trying week I thought their conduct wretched and despicable and I did not mince my words.

                          The result was that the crowd promised to leave and go to their homes and the looters – at least a goodly number of them – threw back the looted articles.

                          While he had been allowed to administer last confessions to Padraig Pearse and Thomas MacDonagh, Fr Aloysius was dismayed to be dismissed by their gaolers at 3am, leaving them to face death alone. He argued successfully to be present with other prisoners thereafter up to the moment of their execution, including James Connolly, so badly injured that he was placed in a chair in front of the soldiers who were to shoot him:

                          I sat in the ambulance car with him – and said a last word to him before they took him from the car in Kilmainham Yard. He was put sitting on a chair. And the order was given.

                          They fired and Father Eugene McCarthy who had been in attendance on Sean McDermott earlier, went over and anointed Connolly. I had stood just behind the firing line. It was a scene I should not ask to witness again.

                          I had got to know Connolly – to wonder at his strength of character and marvellous power of concentration. I had got to regret that I had not known him longer and now I had to say goodbye. All I could do was to return with a heavy heart and to offer the Holy Sacrifice for his soul. Now I thank God that I knew him. I have little more to say.

                          Fr Aloysius, a leading member of the temperance movement, spent the rest of his days working in Dublin inner city communities and died in 1957, aged 89.

                          Fr Aloysius Travers was at lunch when he heard the first shots of the Rising. By the end, he was accompanying Volunteer leaders to their execution.


                          Fr Aloysius Travers, born William Travers, was one of the Capuchin priests thrown into the Rising in their central Church Street location.
                          Attached Files
                          I google because I'm not young enough to know everything.
                          Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

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                          • Joe Duffy's list of Children Killed in 1916 Rising

                            Of the 590 people killed during the Easter Rising, 374 were civilians, 116 British Soldiers, 77 insurgents and 23 members of the police forces. There were 38 children - aged 16 and under - killed.

                            I google because I'm not young enough to know everything.
                            Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

                            Comment


                            • 1916
                              The Glasnevin Trust recalled a contemporary newspaper account, which gives an insight into the scenes that those present witnessed.

                              “Residents in the vicinity of the Glasnevin Cemetery witnessed many pathetic scenes during the week. On Sunday there were few dry eyes along the cemetery road when a solitary mourner followed the remains of some relative to the cemetery. She was an old lady, white-haired, and weak looking. In front, the hearse rattled along at a fast pace and the lady obviously tired almost to collapsing point, tumbled rather than walked some distance in the rear. Every now and then she broke into a little run to keep up with the hearse.

                              “In her hands she clasped a crucifix, which she held out before her when she quickened her pace as if she found in it some power to draw forward her tired and weakened body. At another funeral one man, apparently the father, carried under his arm a rough improvised coffin containing the remains of a child.

                              “The little procession crossed from the Drumcondra district on their way to the cemetery, the parent changing the coffin from one arm to another as they made the journey. They were greeted everywhere with expressions of sympathy which touched them frequently to tears, the father breaking down completely again and again on the route. Thus all the way to the cemetery gates, while the residents along the route expressed their helpless sympathy in moistening eyes. This was only a typical but perhaps somewhat more poignant example of the pathos on the road to the cemetery.”
                              I google because I'm not young enough to know everything.
                              Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

                              Comment


                              • Preserving The Little-Known Stories Of The 1916 Rising & War Of Independence As A Resource For All.
                                'Stories from 1916' is an online portal for the collection and presentation of stories of the participants and living relatives of all those involved in the 1916 Easter Rising, and subsequent War of Independence in Ireland. There are vast numbers of little-known individual accounts of the ordinary men and women who played their part during Ireland's revolutionary period, from 1913 to 1923, and a wealth of previously unseen archive material held by their living descendants. By engaging with relatives and presenting photographs, video, audio and text we will chronicle and preserve vital stories as a resource for all.

                                'Stories from 1916' is a non-profit entity with 501(c)(3) status in the United States. 100% of all donations received go straight back into the project, helping us to tell more of these incredible stories.



                                I google because I'm not young enough to know everything.
                                Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

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