Research. ongoing. Last updated: 18 July 2020
Patrick James Moloney - Republican Pharmacist
(Patrick James) P. J. Moloney (20 March 1869 – 4 September 1947) was an Irish Sinn Féin politician. Prior to entering politics he was a pharmacist. Moloney was actively involved in the Republican movement in Tipperary. He was arrested and jailed in the mass arrests after the Easter Rising. The meeting to elect brigade officers for the 3rd Tipperary Brigade was held in his house in Church street, Tipperary Town. The house was burnt down during the War of Independence in 1920 by British forces.
His three sons were active members of the 3rd Tipperary Brigade. One of his sons, Con became Adjutant General of the anti-treaty IRA during the Civil War another of his sons, Patrick, was killed during the War of Independence. He was elected as a Sinn Féin MP for the Tipperary South constituency at the 1918 general election. In January 1919, Sinn Féin MPs refused to recognise the Parliament of the United Kingdom and instead assembled at the Mansion House in Dublin as a revolutionary parliament - Dáil Éireann. He was elected unopposed as a Sinn Féin Teachta Dála (TD) for the Tipperary Mid, North and South constituency at the 1921 elections. Moloney opposed the Anglo-Irish Treaty and voted against it. He was re-elected for the same constituency at the 1922 general election, this time as an anti-Treaty Sinn Féin TD, but he did not take his seat in the Dáil. He did not contest the 1923 general election. [Wikipedia] |
Introduction
As with all more formal biographies of those that contributed to the cause of Irish freedom (such as the Wikipedia entry for Moloney above), we generally know very little of the more personal backgrounds of those involved, their motivations, circumstances and personal recollections. Occasionally, and then largely by chance, we do get some personal insights of those involved in the struggle for Irish Independence and an opportunity to discover their story.
One such example is that of Tipperary pharmacist, Republican and first TD for Tipperary South, P.J.Moloney.
Tom Humphreys recently got in touch regarding an article here on the Lynch-Wyatt wedding of 1914, and contributed a further family wedding photograph from September 1916 featuring many distant relatives along with details of his great-grand-father P.J. Moloney's Prison Journal from May-July 1916.
Tom's maternal grand-aunt Bridget 'Birdie' Hannon was a daughter of a Limerick city merchant, John Hannon and Ellen O'Brien. His maternal grand-mother was May (Mary Frances) Moloney, daughter of Ellen Hannon and P.J.Moloney.
One such example is that of Tipperary pharmacist, Republican and first TD for Tipperary South, P.J.Moloney.
Tom Humphreys recently got in touch regarding an article here on the Lynch-Wyatt wedding of 1914, and contributed a further family wedding photograph from September 1916 featuring many distant relatives along with details of his great-grand-father P.J. Moloney's Prison Journal from May-July 1916.
Tom's maternal grand-aunt Bridget 'Birdie' Hannon was a daughter of a Limerick city merchant, John Hannon and Ellen O'Brien. His maternal grand-mother was May (Mary Frances) Moloney, daughter of Ellen Hannon and P.J.Moloney.
Above: the four children of John Hannon and Ellen O'Brien: Fr. John, William 'Willie', Bridget 'Birdie' and Joseph.
"...Through her first marriage, Ellen had a family link to Hannah Bracken of Templemore, Co. Tipperary, mother of Brendan Bracken, the future British wartime cabinet minister and Churchill's close confidant"
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
Following John Hannon's death, Ellen re-married in November 1893. Her second husband was P.J.Moloney, a phamacist in Church Street, Tipperary town. The second son of a substantial farmer close to Tipperary Town, P.J.Moloney had trained as a pharmacist in Limerick. Ellen's four children now became part of the new Maloney-Hannon home in Church St.
"...Through her first marriage, Ellen had a family link to Hannah Bracken of Templemore, Co. Tipperary, mother of Brendan Bracken, the future British wartime cabinet minister and Churchill's close confidant"
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
Following John Hannon's death, Ellen re-married in November 1893. Her second husband was P.J.Moloney, a phamacist in Church Street, Tipperary town. The second son of a substantial farmer close to Tipperary Town, P.J.Moloney had trained as a pharmacist in Limerick. Ellen's four children now became part of the new Maloney-Hannon home in Church St.
A further four children followed. Mary Frances 'Mai', Jim, Con and Paddy.
All four Moloney brothers and sister joined the Independence movement from c.1918, May with Cumann na mBan (studied medicine & later qualifying as a Doctor in 1922) and her brothers with the 4th Battalion of the 3rd Tipperary Brigade, Irish Republican Army. The youngest, Paddy was a Captain and was killed by British forces in a fight on a relative's farm in May 1921. Jim had trained as a pharmacist during 1918-20 while also a member of the Dublin Brigade IRA, returned to Tipperary and became Battalion Adjutant in the 4th Battalion and Divisional IO 2 Southern Division, Command IO Southern Command and Director of Communications on Liam Lynch’s staff. He was arrested in the Glen of Aherlow, along with his brother Con (Adjutant General & Deputy Chief of Staff of the anti-treaty forces during the Civil War) in March 1923 and imprisoned in Limerick. Con was released in December 1923 and Jim in July 1924.
By contrast, their brother William Hannon joined the British armed forces. He was commissioned as a Lieutenant in the Royal Irish Rifles in 1914, later transferring to the Royal Flying Corps (Royal Air Force) as a pilot seeing action in the Balkans. He remained in service until 1923 when he resigned his commission and joined the newly formed air corps of the National Army, against which his two surviving younger brothers were fighting. Their older brother, John, joined the Jesuits, becoming a senior figure within the order.
In September 1916, Birdie married Louis D'Alton, a corn and coal merchant in Tipperary. (Wedding & biographical article link due to upload shortly)
By contrast, their brother William Hannon joined the British armed forces. He was commissioned as a Lieutenant in the Royal Irish Rifles in 1914, later transferring to the Royal Flying Corps (Royal Air Force) as a pilot seeing action in the Balkans. He remained in service until 1923 when he resigned his commission and joined the newly formed air corps of the National Army, against which his two surviving younger brothers were fighting. Their older brother, John, joined the Jesuits, becoming a senior figure within the order.
In September 1916, Birdie married Louis D'Alton, a corn and coal merchant in Tipperary. (Wedding & biographical article link due to upload shortly)
Tom has also kindly permitted the inclusion of P.J. Moloney's Prison Journal from 1916 which is a fascinating, insightful and valuable first hand account of the lead up to the Rising in Tipperary and his subsequent arrest and imprisonment. Such a record is rare, and even more so in that we have a first hand account of the aftermath of the Rising in Dublin. Moloney's description of jailed participants, conditions and events in Richmond Military Barracks, Dublin and his subsequent deportation by cattle boat to Barlinnie Jail in Glasgow. All the more surprising is that this journal survived his jailing and subsequent events.
It was only in 2001 that his Prison Journal was discovered in a British Home Office file in the British National Archives at Kew, London. Moloney had submitted this document to Sir John Sankey, Chair of the 'Advisory Committee to Try Sinn Feiners' established in June 1916 (after the trial and execution of the principal leaders by courts martial in May) to review the cases of men in detention. (also known as the 'Sankey Commission'). When Moloney was released from prison in July 1916, the Home Office 'refused to return what one official loftily termed 'a jeremiad, a dreary catalogue of complaints, correct in grammar and [which] shows the author to be a person of some education' on the grounds of its seditious sentiments. This arbitrary act was a stroke of luck for posterity. Moloney's account has remained safe in British hands for over a century, wheras his Tipperary premises, family home and personal effects were destroyed by fire in an unofficial reprisal in November 1920.'
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
Firstly, an Irish Times article on Moloney from January 2019 by his great-grand son, Eunan O'Halpin which gives an insight into the Republican pharmacist. This is followed by the 1916 Prison Journal.
It was only in 2001 that his Prison Journal was discovered in a British Home Office file in the British National Archives at Kew, London. Moloney had submitted this document to Sir John Sankey, Chair of the 'Advisory Committee to Try Sinn Feiners' established in June 1916 (after the trial and execution of the principal leaders by courts martial in May) to review the cases of men in detention. (also known as the 'Sankey Commission'). When Moloney was released from prison in July 1916, the Home Office 'refused to return what one official loftily termed 'a jeremiad, a dreary catalogue of complaints, correct in grammar and [which] shows the author to be a person of some education' on the grounds of its seditious sentiments. This arbitrary act was a stroke of luck for posterity. Moloney's account has remained safe in British hands for over a century, wheras his Tipperary premises, family home and personal effects were destroyed by fire in an unofficial reprisal in November 1920.'
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
Firstly, an Irish Times article on Moloney from January 2019 by his great-grand son, Eunan O'Halpin which gives an insight into the Republican pharmacist. This is followed by the 1916 Prison Journal.
Monday, January 21, 2019
above excerpt with thanks to the Irish Times
above excerpt with thanks to the Irish Times
P.J.Moloney Prison Journal - 1916
This 33 page journal appears with kind permission of Tom Humphreys.
The original handwritten journal is retained in the British Archives, Kew following confiscation by British forces in 1916.
The original handwritten journal is retained in the British Archives, Kew following confiscation by British forces in 1916.
Martial Law in Ireland
Barlinnie Detention Barracks – June 1916
Barlinnie Detention Barracks – June 1916
Having plenty of leisure, it occurs to me that I might occupy myself by writing in plain language, without exaggeration or pretence of literary embellishment, my experience of military law and usage since my arrest in Tipperary on the morning of May 3rd.
In order to clearly understand what the powers of martial law are, I propose to give a short account of my political views and actions up to and during the week of Irish Rebellion of 1916.
I have been all my lifetime a nationalist, an ardent follower of Parnell. I cannot even now quite forgive the men who hounded him down, no matter what their motives may have been. I am I confess still ashamed of the part the majority of the Irish people took, when they reneged the one man who was able to make them feel that they were men and not born to slavery. Parnell was my ideal of a great leader. His personal magnetism had some wonderful power to create enthusiasm especially in young and ardent minds. For years after his tragic death, I ceased to take interest in parliamentary affairs. Tho’ I hope I was at this and at all times a nationalist in the true sense of the word.
When Mr. Redmond was elected to the Chairmanship of a united Irish party, I was a supporter of their policy. I do not want to pretend I was a prominent politician even in a small way, but I followed their achievements with interest and subscribed to the parliamentary funds. I did not feel then, or ever, that I was debarred from criticising the policy or actions of the party. They were unashamedly the instruments for carrying out the wishes and pressing forward the claims of their constituents the Irish people – and they should not expect that their actions should be accepted as if they were infallible, or were conferring a great favour on the people whose interests they were elected to parliament to safeguard & secure.
I did from time to time criticise them and sometimes with good cause. So did thousands of others who are just as good Irishmen as they are. It is a privilege I do not mean to relinquish even though I may be called a factionist or crank or any other of the many epithets they are so fond of slinging at their critics. It has been said that healthy criticism is a good thing. The Irish parliamentary party don’t like it. They prefer the resolutions made to order the eternal or infernal votes of confidence which pop up at every meeting of boards & councils & leagues. Why not let their actions speak for them. “By their fruits you shall know them.”
In common with all nationalist Ireland I watched with interest and some anxiety the fight to get the Home Rule bill through the House of Commons.
The wobbling of the English ministers, the palpable weakness of our own leaders, and the disappointment when at length the Bill was placed on the Statue Book with an objection lodged: already acknowledged as a good & valid objection to the Bill becoming law as it stood. The Volunteers were at this time in being. The movement caught on. Everywhere fine young Irishmen were joining the ranks. They meant to insist on their rights. They were determined to keep this Home Rule Bill on the books &to have a free Ireland one & indivisible.
The action of the Irish Parliamentary Party, their attitude towards the Volunteer movement, the steps Mr. Redmond took to disrupt and weaken the volunteers, are matters of history. Suffice it for me to say that when I found that Mr. Redmond had nominated a very eminent & patriotic man, but a priest, on the Committee of Volunteers, to control their policy, I thought it time to withdraw from the movement. I heard this respected priest’s letter read out at an inauguration Volunteer meeting. He was, he wrote, with the movement heart & soul. He gave it his best wishes & blessing, but he being a priest of God and a man of peace could neither be a member nor director of an armed force. This was when the Volunteers meant business. When they were disrupted & when those who followed Mr. Redmond meant nothing but bluff, he could conscientiously join to direct their movement.
Even now I was a follower of Mr. Redmond. I still believed he was an honest patriotic Irishman. Even now I was a follower of Mr. Redmond. I still believed he was an honest patriotic Irishman. But then the war broke out, and he deserted Ireland’s interests, when he became the pronounced imperialist; when he advised young Irishmen to fight for Ireland’s freedom in France, then I saw he had failed to grasp the finest opportunity ever given to an Irish leader to wring, if necessary, from England a full measure of justice. My confidence in his political sagacity was shaken. His policy and conduct since the war began has convinced me that he is either a very weak leader tied by some peculiar bonds to England’s ministers, or else he is no longer an Irish nationalist. And I am firmly convinced that his weak policy is responsible for the gallant lives lost in the fight for Irish freedom in Dublin during Easter Week of 1916. I do not condemn nor do I deeply regret or deplore what has happened, because the martyr’s blood has not been shed in vain. The spirit of Irish nationality will now assuredly live on, and Mitchell’s prophecy will be verified. If you don’t know his prophecy, read his book.
In Tipperary we had a good many fine young fellows in the Volunteer ranks: even after the split-up they continued for a time to drill & march together, but this did not suit our local wirepullers. I don’t mean any offence, but I am very certain that the course of action, which led to the falling away of the Volunteers in Tipperary was inspired by the same political bosses who will not tolerate any opinions, except those that are so pliable that they can be safely depended on to say black is red if told to do so.
Despite very powerful local influence the majority of the young ardent spirits, those who were of any great use as Volunteers were with McNeill and his policy. They were Volunteers for Ireland in Ireland, and it was useless to preach to them the doctrine of going to Europe to fight Ireland’s battle, or to fight for other small nationalities : they were determined to reserve their steel and their lives for Ireland only.
The majority of the business people, the respectable classes as they like to be called, absorbed Mr. Redmond’s views, and became, or at any rate pretended to become, ardent Imperialists.
The unionists and West Briton’s of the locality endeavoured to make use of their new born loyalty, and gave them several opportunities of proving their devotion to the Empire. They will probably be used as doormats when they have served their purpose : when the war is over we can retire again each to his peculiar camp.
I am not very discreet and I do not hide my opinions. I soon became noted locally as a factionist, a sorehead, a pro-German & goodness knows how many other names I was known by. But the climax was reached when I had the supreme audacity of accepting the presidency of the local ‘Irish Volunteers’ and helping to organise them in Tipperary. We took part in [the] St. Patrick’s Day procession and were goaded by some of the very extreme pro-English element, and earned their very pronounced hostility.
I lost several of my business supporters, and I am sorry to have to write that some few people that I did not expect such uncharitableness from canvassed my customers that they should withdraw their support from me. Perhaps they were so blinded by their prejudices that they did not see the injury they were doing to me and my family. I am quite ready to admit that the man who pays his way can elect to give his custom where he likes. But that a man should expect me to hide my opinions or pretend to believe as he did, because he was a good friend of my business, and withdraw his support when I dared to hold to my own honest and well-considered opinions & policy, this I believe to very narrow minded intolerance. To the opinions I have indicated, and to the hostile influence of the people I have mentioned, I attribute my arrest and detention without any charge being formulated and without any trial whatever.
Circumstances of My Arrest
During the week to ten days succeeding the proclamation of The Irish Republic, when the fighting in Dublin was at its height, Tipperary and all the surrounding districts were perfectly quiet. The military in Tipperary were not strong in number or in armaments, and neither military nor police had valid reason to dread any violent outbreak.
Yet when the insurrection was practically quelled, when everybody was sure that things would soon resume their normal course; the military having in the meantime increased in strength & munitions of war, and the police having recovered from their very apparent nervousness, when they found that nobody was going to molest them – suddenly pounced upon six peaceable Tipperary men, and without warrant, without giving them any reason or specifying any charge, subjected them to arrest in the most violent and threatening manner. Two of the men arrested were not members of the volunteer movement at all. One was Sec. to the Labour Association. This is as far as I can know the only crime that can be brought against him. The other was a man with important business interests in town. His sin I expect is that he did not think imperially and he was not a favourite with the local political bosses.
Three of us were prominent in the local volunteer movement and the other was also Sec. to Gaelic League, and an alien, born in America of Irish parents. We were all well known to the police, and it appears we were considered a danger to the realm.
Wednesday, May 3
On the morning of Wednesday May 3rd. at about 9o’c, two other townsmen and I were proceeding homewards after our usual morning walk. When we were pretty near the police barracks one of the men & I decided to have a short run on the hills. The other, a punctual man, went home to his breakfast. I noted that the District Inspector of Police was conversing with a well-known townsman at the barrack gate as we turned in direction of entrance to the hills. And we had not proceeded 20 yards when I heard some commotion behind us. Hurried steps as if someone was running after us. Just as I turned to see what it was about, a shout reached me “Surrender, hands up.” I was amazed to see Sergt. Doyle R.I.C. who had me covered with a rifle, and Mr. Brownrigg D.I. who had a revolver. They were within 10 or 12 yards of us and again Sergt. Doyle roared “Hands up or I shoot”. I was quite surprised, but I did not put up my hands, tho’ it was not out of any bravado but I thought the proceeding so uncalled for. I remonstrated as I walked towards them, that this display was unnecessary. I said I would go with them without any trouble, and asked what was the cause of my arrest, and what charge they had against me. The answer was “Surrender”. I said yes, I am going with you but tell me what is it you charge me with. We were by this time at [the] barrack gate. Sergt. Doyle said “You will be told when you get into the barracks”. So I proceeded them in. Neither had so far laid a hand on me.
Immediately I got into the Guardroom, where were a dozen or more policemen, and a formidable display of rifles and revolvers, which they were loading with great ostentation. I was again told to put up my hands. And this time they did not wait for me to comply, but forcing up my arms made a thorough search thro’ my pockets, opening my coat, vest etc. They took every article I had on me, and Mr. Brownrigg very diligently read through all the letters & invoices I had in my pockets. He found on me a little note book, in which I had memorandum of a billiard tournament. An amateur “book” I made on the games &the different names of the numerals telling odds against the players evidently puzzled him. Besides there were notes on horse races, the names may have some sinister meaning to him. At any rate he put this book aside.
At last he happened on a sheet of paper with about a dozen lines scribbled on it. He reads, & then turning says did you write this.I was not sure what it was. I endeavoured to read it over his shoulder but he held it away from me. So I said I don’t know whether I wrote it or not. “Hah”, he says with satisfaction. So I manage to have a look at it & immediately say “Yes, I wrote it”. It was some argument that struck me in an idle moment & I jotted it down. A comparison of the condition & suffering of poor Belgium with our own country & wondering if a Belgian patriot would advise his people to accept the accomplished & fall in with the Kaiser &fight for the Germanic Empire. Well Mr. Brownrigg has this scrawl & my note books. I hope they will set him thinking.
Having handed me back my letters & money he called a constable & told him take me to the cells. On my way down I asked the policemen who were not now so aggressive: “What had happened or why was I arrested.” I was answered by the remark: “these are troublesome times; you will soon have companions as five or six more are to be arrested.” I concluded that some local outburst or affray had occurred during the night, and we were being arrested on suspicion.
Soon I had comrades in misfortune. L.J. Dalton first and W. Benn soon after. We three were placed in [the] same cell and had our breakfasts sent us from our own homes. Three others were brought in prisoners, one in handcuffs. Before very long, and by 9.30 six men were in the police cells. The constabulary had unaided performed a good morning’s work, in a manner most creditable to the force, and without a single casualty. After about an hour my son came to the barracks to consult me about business matters. He was told that he was a prominent Sinn Feiner, and should rightly be under arrest. I was allowed speak to him in [the] presence of a constable, & told him what I wished to have done.
Next Mr. Dalton was called to go back up to [the] guardroom & it was intimated to him that he was about to be released – but that as he was not mild enough in his answers to some questions put to him by Mr. Brownrigg, he was sent back a prisoner to our cell, with his temper slightly ruffled.
We chatted and smoked ‘till about 12 o’c when we were brought again to the guardroom, and now we were handcuffed in pairs. The entire police force were formed up on road in front of barracks in two files &we were placed in centre and marched to the military barracks. We were as much looked at passing down Davis St. & Bridge St. as if we were the wild animals belonging to a Circus. A few here and there had the temerity to give us an encouraging word, or even a little cheer, but the majority, while probably sorry for our plight were very passive, afraid to give offence to the forces of law and order. Policemen with rifles stood to attention at the street crossings and altogether the arrest & march thro’ the streets was a very imposing affair, calculated to strike terror into the hearts of factionists and disloyal people; and to give feelings of security and satisfaction to all law abiding loyal subjects and tame nationalists.
We arrived safely at military barracks. In the guardroom we were again thoroughly searched, and all our money & belongings were taken from us, handkerchiefs and rosary beads included. Our braces & ties were demanded, and were not returned to us till we were being got ready for removal by train to Cork. We were put into the detention room. A filthy evil smelling place with a closet attached, from which four or five military prisoners were removed to give us room. There were 3 bedsteads in this room & we could sit on these or walk up and down for the four hours we were detained there.
About 1 o’c a very aggressive mannered corporal brought in a basin of fluid, some bread with margarine, & some slices of bully beef : no vessels to divide up the liquid. I did not feel hungry & was not tempted to try this repast. But one of us asked the corporal if it was a basin of tea. It might have been soup, there were a good deal of foreign bodies floating on its surface. The soldier with a snarl answered “Yes, is it not good enough for you, better men have to do with it.”
I have to thank that corporal. His words made an impression on me which he did not intend they should, and whenever afterwards I felt depressed, or whenever I experienced some fresh indignity or harshness, I called to mind what small punishment I had to put up with compared to what Rossa, Mitchell, Kickham & the host of other felons, who had really done something to earn England’s enmity.
While in those barracks my wife came to see me. I was brought to [the] outer room to meet her and just as we were about speaking an officer walked right up to us, saying in an arrogant tone, “Speak up. I must hear what you have to say”. This appeared to surprise & stun my wife. So I told her the few things I wanted to be done & wished her goodbye. Assuring her I would be all right & back in a few days, telling her that she had better go home as this was no place for her. We did not trespass on this tall & good-looking young officer’s time for more than 5 minutes. And I fear my wife was not favourably impressed by his courtesy. Possibly he considered it needless to act in a gentlemanly manner towards suspects or their womenfolk.
At 4 o’c we were once again brought forth handcuffed in pairs as before, and now we discovered that there were about a dozen more prisoners from Clonmel & Balloughive. We were marched with great display of force between military escort with fixed bayonets & the army of black coated policemen, whose duty should be to protect the lives & property of the people; to quell rowdyism, arrest robbers & drunkards, and in every way make life respectable and smooth for the general public, whose servants they should be. In reality the police appear to think that the public should be in fear and awe of them. And they are apparently under the impression that they & not the people are the masters.
While marshalled on station platform, the public and our friends were prevented from any contact with us, by the police & military. And the same isolation of the prisoner squad was observed while we waited at Limerick Junction. We got into a crowded carriage and every 2 prisoners had a soldier & 2 policeman to guard them. My partner in the handcuffs and I were quite at home with our guard. They were not at any time disposed to be hostile to us. And we smoked, told yarns & were quite merry all the way to Cork. On the platform at Cork Rly Station we fell in as usual with now a double line of guards, and were brought by quiet back streets to the military barracks. When in the vicinity of those barracks, a few, not more than 4 people women & youngsters made some unfriendly remarks. Such as“The Sínn Feiners out to be shot.” “Give them the jail.” But there was nothing that could be called a hostile reception. Nor did the people who made these remarks raise their faces. They were undoubtedly soldier’s dependants wives, sisters & followers. However, the Cork Examiner twisted this into a ‘hostile reception’. It is extraordinary what class the entire press of this country has become. Is it German gold that has perverted one-time honest journalists.
Well we were brought to the wrong shop. They could not keep us in the military barracks. Our brave captors had made a blunder. The order was “about turn” and “quick march”. We had now a good many of the Cadet Corps, both before and in the rear of our column.
And after tramping up steep hills and down precipices, as they seemed to us in the dusk of falling night, we soon got into well-lighted parts of [the] city. Going through Patrick St. we became objects of much attention, and soon were surrounded by a big crowd of wildly cheering men and women who accompanied us the rest of the way to prison singing national songs. Cheering for Dublin and the brave rebels, and behaving in anything but a loyal manner. The young men of the Cadet Corps as well as the Police were obviously ill-at-ease. And it would be very easy indeed to cause a bad shindy. We who were fettered would be sure to get the worst of any row. Luckily we reached the jail safely, & I am sure it was with feelings of relief that our guard handed us over to the tender mercies of the Cork jailers.
The handing over was quite a ceremony. We were lined up in single file, our names called over we were counted& re-counted. And then one-by-one ushered at a sort of office where a prison official asked: name, address, occupation, religion, married or single, wives name. I made some jesting remark &hoped they had a good hot supper ready for us, but was very severely snubbed and told to remember I was now in prison, and any levity, insubordination, or cursing would be severely punished. I was told stand in to the wall and my height was measured. All this interesting information was duly noted in prison books.
I remarked that it was a fine well-lighted hall, and that the floor must have got a great polishing. “Silence” roared a warder. We were searched again, and a pouch filled with tobacco which was smuggled in to me at Limerick Junction was confiscated. I never got this back but I hope that the warder who held on to it enjoyed many good smokes. He was about the only warder with any humane feelings that we came in contact with. We were locked up in cells 15 x 6 about 10ft. high. Semi-darkness prevailed. The cell was lighted thro’ a pane 6 x 6 outside which a naked gas jet flared. I found a small loaf and some cold cocoa. I did not eat anything, couldn’t, but drank the cocoa. It was very bitter stuff. I really think it is a [ illegible word ] of the ends of tarred ropes or oakum. I could never while in Cork manage to eat the bread. But I found that by crumbling it into the cocoa and allowing it to get quiet cold it could be managed. It did not then taste any worse that a cold bran mash.
My bed was a double plank slightly raised at head with a lumpy mattress as hard as the board I spread it on and the pillow would make a good weapon of offence. It was as hard and as knobbly as a wild tree root. I remedied these defects somewhat after a few days when I found out that we were not likely to be visited for a few hours after the evening feed. I ripped up the mattress with a nail that I tore out of the wall, and I teased and sorted out the fibre and tarred rope ends which were used as packing in these mattresses. I succeeded in making it and the pillow fairly smooth and yielding. Besides the occupation helped to pass away an evening. I had to sew up again using a bootlace, it was a very tedious job.
I must have slept 4 or 5 hours on my first night in jail. When I awoke it was daybreak and as I was stiff & sore from my uncomfortable couch, I got up & dressed and climbed on the seat to look thro’ the window. This same window was placed about 7 feet from the floor. A window of 12 small panes with upper part opening inwards about 6 inches.
And as it was a windy & cold morning, I tried to shut this and after much pushing it went to with a click and was held closed by a circular spring. To open again it had to be violently pulled inwards. I saw over a high wall green treetops waving & there was some sort of company in the sight. Soon the birds began to sing. Cocks crew and bells and horns told that the city was awakening. At 5.30 the prison bell clanged vigorously. We were gruffly ordered to get up &clean up cells & make our bedclothes tidy. I made best attempt I could but found I had been wasting my energy. I had to do it all over again under warder’s direction, and he was neither gracious nor particularly choice of his language.
Harshness, incivility, and insults were invariably meted out to us by the warders of Cork jail. If we were dangerous criminals, guilty of some horribly revolting crimes, cold-blooded murderers and robbers, we could not be treated with greater malignity. With a few exceptions which I will be careful to acknowledge when I come to them in the course of my narrative, the warders of Cork Jail were cowardly bullying scoundrels. I am sorry to have to write this because they were undoubtedly Irishmen.
About 6.30 the cell doors were opened, not to let us out, but to let in a little air and to allow us empty our slops into a pail brought around to each cell door by two of the prisoners who were when on this & similar jobs called orderlies. Anyone who ventured to peep out, and most of us did, was met with a harsh “Get back from that door”. “Get inside your cells”. – nevertheless we saw the prisoners in cells opposite us. They had smiling faces & pretended to be full of frolic. An amusing incident happened to one of Clonmel men. Young Mr. Mackey. Warder coming round with the morning feed sees his mug in which were some dregs of last night’s cocoa. Snaps at him “Clean your mug”. Mackey says innocently, rubbing his face & chin. “I wish I could shave it too.” The joke was lost on warder who slammed the door violently saying “No levity or you will get bread and water.” We had a towel, a comb, 2 mugs, a basin for water, a piece of soap, a small cloth with which to wash up the mugs, a horn spoon, & a little tin basin of salt. A Bible, prayer book & rosary beads completed[the] furniture of our little home.
I could not relish the cocoa, nor could I manage the brownish bread : for some days I had a visitor. A young lad in convict dress who climbed on to my window from outside and asked had I any bread to spare. I was astonished to see how quickly he disposed of it. He was able to tell me that Cork volunteers were released &that we would not be allowed exercise.
The first day passed somehow. Relieved just when I and another Tipperary man, Mr. Daly, were taken to a sort of office outside the prison building where we were shown the property taken from us in Tipperary - except the money - where we had to answer all the questions as before, name age, religion etc. and we were weighed and examined for identification marks. An old wound on my left hand was duly entered into a book with the other particulars. This official was human. He told us the less we had to say to anybody while in the prison, the better for us. Told us not to speak except we were spoken to, and not to attempt to converse with one another. I quiet forget his advice kindly enough given, for when we were going back across a yard, I met a very much bemedaled official, and I saluted him “Good Morning”. He nearly froze me with the coldness of his look.
Dinner was a strange meal. The regulations (hanging on the wall was a card with regulations for prisoners food provision) said ¾ pint of soup with 3 ozs. beef without bone, potatoes and 6oz. of bread. I got 1 ½ potato. The half one was bad in centre. I carefully dug out this part with [the] handle of a spoon. The entire potato was soft and had a wild flavour, but it had to do because I was hungry. The soup had a meaty flavour & I consumed all. But the meat, I am puzzled how to describe it. Was it leather, or was it pieces of bicycle tubing. What class of beast grew such covering on its ribs. God bless the butcher that has [the] contract for Cork Jail. I managed to chew it well but did not dare to swallow it. The evening meal was similar to [the] morning meal, and then we were not again disturbed ‘till morning. I had the temerity of ringing an emergency bell. Twisting a horn shaped piece of metal beside [the] cell door. After a time a warder came along, and moving back a disc of metal that covered the little spy hole from outside of [the] door, he looked at me. I asked him to let me out please. You cannot get out now, he said. I said “I really wanted to get out”. I will not here write his reply, but my anger and indignation was so great I never after asked to be allowed out. Nor ever asked for anything for the 5 days we were in Cork Jail.
After breakfast next morning was told “Stand to attention. Medical Officer was coming”. The doctor came into [the] cell asked my name. What I did. Made a pretence of examining chest & heart, looked into my mouth and passed on to the next. I saw him again 2 days after but he only passed by as I assured him I was in good health.
Next I had a visit from the Governor. The first man I met since my arrest, of those who were our temporary masters, who spoke and behaved as a decent kindly gentleman. He had not much to say, but he was at any rate courteous and sympathetic. In a day or two he called again and in the course of our short conversation he told me that he was absolutely powerless to improve our condition in any way. That for the 25 years he was an official he never had such instructions as to the strictness as he had in our cases. That he was endeavouring to get us an hour’s exercise daily, but had not so far succeeded. He told me we could see no visitors, not even the members of the Prison Board Visiting Committee. Nor could we send any message to our friends. But he promised to let my sister know that I was well & bearing up with good spirits.
My sister was a Mercy Nun & knew some relative of his. He afterwards (on the Monday) got me a change of underclothing & my overcoat which came from home to some friends on Cork. My overcoat I needed badly because [the] weather was bitterly cold & we had to keep tramping up & down our narrow cells to keep fairly warm. Indeed a warder who saw [the] coat with me said I should not have got in this, but I referred him to the Governor & he went his way as if he had got a kick in the tail-end.The Governor on his own responsibility, as he was careful to tell us, did give us an hours outing on Monday. He felt he said that he could not be responsible for the health of body & mind of prisoners in solitary confinement for any longer period.
The Head Jailer or Warder who delivered a little lecture to us before we went out for this exercise spoke in a pleasant conciliatory tone. He told us that we were not to talk to one another while at exercise. Not to be unruly or in any way infringe on the prison regulations. That they had their instructions and had to do their duty. And we should not make it necessary for them to have any one up for punishment. So we walked round & round 5 paces apart in a sort of walled-in yard with flagged & cemented footway. We were called out of the ring in two’s to clean & polish our boots and brush our clothes. And we enjoyed this outing. The same young joker from Clonmel asked men walking in front of him “Where are you from.” Unfortunately man in front was not an old jailbird and he turned his head back to reply. The warder on the watch pounced on Mackey, called out of the ranks. Severely asked him, don’t you remember instructions you got when coming out about not talking. Mackey said “Yes” but he had forgotten for the moment. Warder says “do you think it’s for fun I’m here.” I don’t know, says Mackey, “I haven’t had much fun myself since I came here.” “You won’t get out for exercise for the next 5 days, fall in now.” His sentence pronounced, but next day we were away.
When we got back to our cell a big pail of water, some soap and a coarse cloth awaited us. We had to scrub our wooden bed & seat, the little shelf let into the wall which served as a table, a wash stand & a reading desk. Next, down on marrowbones & scrub the boarded floor using a scrub brush, the cloth to dry up. When this was finished we polished boxes of utensils with bathbrick, soap and some cloths. By the time this useful work was satisfactorily finished we were ready for our usual dinner. Luckily the 2nd. morning & each morning after, except [the] morning of our departure, we got stirabout & ¾ pint of new milk for breakfast. The stirabout was composed of 3 ½ ounces oaten meal and 3 ½ ounces Indian meal. It was all right for a hungry man.
On Sunday we had no Mass. Nor was Prison Chaplain ever allowed to visit us. We did have a visit from the Military Chaplain on Monday. He was very busy, and I doubt if we profited much by the few minutes formal chat he had with us. Certainly I did not feel any better or any more resigned after his departure.
But though we were separated we joined in God’s worship that Sunday. In the morning after breakfast I was looking out the window. My favourite spot was on the seat looking out at the green tree tops I have already mentioned. I heard a rich mellow voice from a cell overhead singing a hymn “To Jesus Heart All Burning”. The signing under such circumstances as ours affected me, but I joined in the hymn & so did all the men who were within hearing, and we were not interrupted. Afterwards though some patriotic songs “The Felons of Our Land”, and “Ireland Over All” did not find favour with the warder on duty and he shouted “Did we want to turn the prison into a lunatic asylum.” He threatened bread & water and the black hole to the prisoners he would detect making any uproar. So we had to sing in a “low key” ever after.
It is wonderful how one can get accustomed and more or less resigned to such a place.But by this time we knew what we were supposed to do & we did it. We knew daily routine and what we had to expect, and after the 2nd. & 3rd. days -they were hard and bitter, and will leave a sting – I was more or less reconciled & in good spirits. So were all the boys. Whenever the least chance offered, we encouraged one another by looks & gestures to keep cheerful & not show least depression.
Tuesday, May 9
Early on Tuesday morning May the 9th. a great ringing of bells and the shouting of a warder called us to get up, and get ready out rooms, we were to be taken elsewhere. So at about 4.30 a.m. we had the infernal cocoa & bread for breakfast. The excitement of leaving took away any little relish I had for such fare, and I ate very little indeed. At about half five we were ranged in 2 ranks extending from entrance gates to prison, more than 100 men. We were kept standing there on change of warders for almost 2 hours. We were supposed not to talk but after a little while this order was not strictly enforced.
When we had been standing there for some time the men naturally became restless and some needed to leave ranks. The warder had to go with groups of 3 or 4, but soon he tired of this and refused to allow any more men retire, making use of some blackguardly expressions which he thought were witty & which will not bear repetition in my narrative. About 7 o’c the military officers arrived. The rank & file had arrived outside [the] gates a good hour before this – and now it was discovered that they had not handcuffs. After some delay & consultation they took courage &calling over our names & counting & recounting us, they moved us in between a double file of soldiers & policemen and marched us to [the] railway station. It was 7.40 a.m. as we passed the Fr. Matthew monument in Patrick Street.
The handing over was quite a ceremony. We were lined up in single file, our names called over we were counted& re-counted. And then one-by-one ushered at a sort of office where a prison official asked: name, address, occupation, religion, married or single, wives name. I made some jesting remark &hoped they had a good hot supper ready for us, but was very severely snubbed and told to remember I was now in prison, and any levity, insubordination, or cursing would be severely punished. I was told stand in to the wall and my height was measured. All this interesting information was duly noted in prison books.
I remarked that it was a fine well-lighted hall, and that the floor must have got a great polishing. “Silence” roared a warder. We were searched again, and a pouch filled with tobacco which was smuggled in to me at Limerick Junction was confiscated. I never got this back but I hope that the warder who held on to it enjoyed many good smokes. He was about the only warder with any humane feelings that we came in contact with. We were locked up in cells 15 x 6 about 10ft. high. Semi-darkness prevailed. The cell was lighted thro’ a pane 6 x 6 outside which a naked gas jet flared. I found a small loaf and some cold cocoa. I did not eat anything, couldn’t, but drank the cocoa. It was very bitter stuff. I really think it is a [ illegible word ] of the ends of tarred ropes or oakum. I could never while in Cork manage to eat the bread. But I found that by crumbling it into the cocoa and allowing it to get quiet cold it could be managed. It did not then taste any worse that a cold bran mash.
My bed was a double plank slightly raised at head with a lumpy mattress as hard as the board I spread it on and the pillow would make a good weapon of offence. It was as hard and as knobbly as a wild tree root. I remedied these defects somewhat after a few days when I found out that we were not likely to be visited for a few hours after the evening feed. I ripped up the mattress with a nail that I tore out of the wall, and I teased and sorted out the fibre and tarred rope ends which were used as packing in these mattresses. I succeeded in making it and the pillow fairly smooth and yielding. Besides the occupation helped to pass away an evening. I had to sew up again using a bootlace, it was a very tedious job.
I must have slept 4 or 5 hours on my first night in jail. When I awoke it was daybreak and as I was stiff & sore from my uncomfortable couch, I got up & dressed and climbed on the seat to look thro’ the window. This same window was placed about 7 feet from the floor. A window of 12 small panes with upper part opening inwards about 6 inches.
And as it was a windy & cold morning, I tried to shut this and after much pushing it went to with a click and was held closed by a circular spring. To open again it had to be violently pulled inwards. I saw over a high wall green treetops waving & there was some sort of company in the sight. Soon the birds began to sing. Cocks crew and bells and horns told that the city was awakening. At 5.30 the prison bell clanged vigorously. We were gruffly ordered to get up &clean up cells & make our bedclothes tidy. I made best attempt I could but found I had been wasting my energy. I had to do it all over again under warder’s direction, and he was neither gracious nor particularly choice of his language.
Harshness, incivility, and insults were invariably meted out to us by the warders of Cork jail. If we were dangerous criminals, guilty of some horribly revolting crimes, cold-blooded murderers and robbers, we could not be treated with greater malignity. With a few exceptions which I will be careful to acknowledge when I come to them in the course of my narrative, the warders of Cork Jail were cowardly bullying scoundrels. I am sorry to have to write this because they were undoubtedly Irishmen.
About 6.30 the cell doors were opened, not to let us out, but to let in a little air and to allow us empty our slops into a pail brought around to each cell door by two of the prisoners who were when on this & similar jobs called orderlies. Anyone who ventured to peep out, and most of us did, was met with a harsh “Get back from that door”. “Get inside your cells”. – nevertheless we saw the prisoners in cells opposite us. They had smiling faces & pretended to be full of frolic. An amusing incident happened to one of Clonmel men. Young Mr. Mackey. Warder coming round with the morning feed sees his mug in which were some dregs of last night’s cocoa. Snaps at him “Clean your mug”. Mackey says innocently, rubbing his face & chin. “I wish I could shave it too.” The joke was lost on warder who slammed the door violently saying “No levity or you will get bread and water.” We had a towel, a comb, 2 mugs, a basin for water, a piece of soap, a small cloth with which to wash up the mugs, a horn spoon, & a little tin basin of salt. A Bible, prayer book & rosary beads completed[the] furniture of our little home.
I could not relish the cocoa, nor could I manage the brownish bread : for some days I had a visitor. A young lad in convict dress who climbed on to my window from outside and asked had I any bread to spare. I was astonished to see how quickly he disposed of it. He was able to tell me that Cork volunteers were released &that we would not be allowed exercise.
The first day passed somehow. Relieved just when I and another Tipperary man, Mr. Daly, were taken to a sort of office outside the prison building where we were shown the property taken from us in Tipperary - except the money - where we had to answer all the questions as before, name age, religion etc. and we were weighed and examined for identification marks. An old wound on my left hand was duly entered into a book with the other particulars. This official was human. He told us the less we had to say to anybody while in the prison, the better for us. Told us not to speak except we were spoken to, and not to attempt to converse with one another. I quiet forget his advice kindly enough given, for when we were going back across a yard, I met a very much bemedaled official, and I saluted him “Good Morning”. He nearly froze me with the coldness of his look.
Dinner was a strange meal. The regulations (hanging on the wall was a card with regulations for prisoners food provision) said ¾ pint of soup with 3 ozs. beef without bone, potatoes and 6oz. of bread. I got 1 ½ potato. The half one was bad in centre. I carefully dug out this part with [the] handle of a spoon. The entire potato was soft and had a wild flavour, but it had to do because I was hungry. The soup had a meaty flavour & I consumed all. But the meat, I am puzzled how to describe it. Was it leather, or was it pieces of bicycle tubing. What class of beast grew such covering on its ribs. God bless the butcher that has [the] contract for Cork Jail. I managed to chew it well but did not dare to swallow it. The evening meal was similar to [the] morning meal, and then we were not again disturbed ‘till morning. I had the temerity of ringing an emergency bell. Twisting a horn shaped piece of metal beside [the] cell door. After a time a warder came along, and moving back a disc of metal that covered the little spy hole from outside of [the] door, he looked at me. I asked him to let me out please. You cannot get out now, he said. I said “I really wanted to get out”. I will not here write his reply, but my anger and indignation was so great I never after asked to be allowed out. Nor ever asked for anything for the 5 days we were in Cork Jail.
After breakfast next morning was told “Stand to attention. Medical Officer was coming”. The doctor came into [the] cell asked my name. What I did. Made a pretence of examining chest & heart, looked into my mouth and passed on to the next. I saw him again 2 days after but he only passed by as I assured him I was in good health.
Next I had a visit from the Governor. The first man I met since my arrest, of those who were our temporary masters, who spoke and behaved as a decent kindly gentleman. He had not much to say, but he was at any rate courteous and sympathetic. In a day or two he called again and in the course of our short conversation he told me that he was absolutely powerless to improve our condition in any way. That for the 25 years he was an official he never had such instructions as to the strictness as he had in our cases. That he was endeavouring to get us an hour’s exercise daily, but had not so far succeeded. He told me we could see no visitors, not even the members of the Prison Board Visiting Committee. Nor could we send any message to our friends. But he promised to let my sister know that I was well & bearing up with good spirits.
My sister was a Mercy Nun & knew some relative of his. He afterwards (on the Monday) got me a change of underclothing & my overcoat which came from home to some friends on Cork. My overcoat I needed badly because [the] weather was bitterly cold & we had to keep tramping up & down our narrow cells to keep fairly warm. Indeed a warder who saw [the] coat with me said I should not have got in this, but I referred him to the Governor & he went his way as if he had got a kick in the tail-end.The Governor on his own responsibility, as he was careful to tell us, did give us an hours outing on Monday. He felt he said that he could not be responsible for the health of body & mind of prisoners in solitary confinement for any longer period.
The Head Jailer or Warder who delivered a little lecture to us before we went out for this exercise spoke in a pleasant conciliatory tone. He told us that we were not to talk to one another while at exercise. Not to be unruly or in any way infringe on the prison regulations. That they had their instructions and had to do their duty. And we should not make it necessary for them to have any one up for punishment. So we walked round & round 5 paces apart in a sort of walled-in yard with flagged & cemented footway. We were called out of the ring in two’s to clean & polish our boots and brush our clothes. And we enjoyed this outing. The same young joker from Clonmel asked men walking in front of him “Where are you from.” Unfortunately man in front was not an old jailbird and he turned his head back to reply. The warder on the watch pounced on Mackey, called out of the ranks. Severely asked him, don’t you remember instructions you got when coming out about not talking. Mackey said “Yes” but he had forgotten for the moment. Warder says “do you think it’s for fun I’m here.” I don’t know, says Mackey, “I haven’t had much fun myself since I came here.” “You won’t get out for exercise for the next 5 days, fall in now.” His sentence pronounced, but next day we were away.
When we got back to our cell a big pail of water, some soap and a coarse cloth awaited us. We had to scrub our wooden bed & seat, the little shelf let into the wall which served as a table, a wash stand & a reading desk. Next, down on marrowbones & scrub the boarded floor using a scrub brush, the cloth to dry up. When this was finished we polished boxes of utensils with bathbrick, soap and some cloths. By the time this useful work was satisfactorily finished we were ready for our usual dinner. Luckily the 2nd. morning & each morning after, except [the] morning of our departure, we got stirabout & ¾ pint of new milk for breakfast. The stirabout was composed of 3 ½ ounces oaten meal and 3 ½ ounces Indian meal. It was all right for a hungry man.
On Sunday we had no Mass. Nor was Prison Chaplain ever allowed to visit us. We did have a visit from the Military Chaplain on Monday. He was very busy, and I doubt if we profited much by the few minutes formal chat he had with us. Certainly I did not feel any better or any more resigned after his departure.
But though we were separated we joined in God’s worship that Sunday. In the morning after breakfast I was looking out the window. My favourite spot was on the seat looking out at the green tree tops I have already mentioned. I heard a rich mellow voice from a cell overhead singing a hymn “To Jesus Heart All Burning”. The signing under such circumstances as ours affected me, but I joined in the hymn & so did all the men who were within hearing, and we were not interrupted. Afterwards though some patriotic songs “The Felons of Our Land”, and “Ireland Over All” did not find favour with the warder on duty and he shouted “Did we want to turn the prison into a lunatic asylum.” He threatened bread & water and the black hole to the prisoners he would detect making any uproar. So we had to sing in a “low key” ever after.
It is wonderful how one can get accustomed and more or less resigned to such a place.But by this time we knew what we were supposed to do & we did it. We knew daily routine and what we had to expect, and after the 2nd. & 3rd. days -they were hard and bitter, and will leave a sting – I was more or less reconciled & in good spirits. So were all the boys. Whenever the least chance offered, we encouraged one another by looks & gestures to keep cheerful & not show least depression.
Tuesday, May 9
Early on Tuesday morning May the 9th. a great ringing of bells and the shouting of a warder called us to get up, and get ready out rooms, we were to be taken elsewhere. So at about 4.30 a.m. we had the infernal cocoa & bread for breakfast. The excitement of leaving took away any little relish I had for such fare, and I ate very little indeed. At about half five we were ranged in 2 ranks extending from entrance gates to prison, more than 100 men. We were kept standing there on change of warders for almost 2 hours. We were supposed not to talk but after a little while this order was not strictly enforced.
When we had been standing there for some time the men naturally became restless and some needed to leave ranks. The warder had to go with groups of 3 or 4, but soon he tired of this and refused to allow any more men retire, making use of some blackguardly expressions which he thought were witty & which will not bear repetition in my narrative. About 7 o’c the military officers arrived. The rank & file had arrived outside [the] gates a good hour before this – and now it was discovered that they had not handcuffs. After some delay & consultation they took courage &calling over our names & counting & recounting us, they moved us in between a double file of soldiers & policemen and marched us to [the] railway station. It was 7.40 a.m. as we passed the Fr. Matthew monument in Patrick Street.
When we were safely arrived & apparently quite secured they proceeded to handcuff us in pairs as on our journey down from Tipperary. 4 prisoners, a soldier with fixed bayonet, and one policeman from prisoner’s district, brought down for identification purposes & bearing probably the police or other reports relative to our cases, were in each compartment of our carriage. Besides, sentries marched up & down the corridors of train. I think it was about 9 o’c when our train left Cork and proceeded slowly towards Dublin. But it appears the intention was to go to Limerick & pick up a batch of prisoners there. However, somebody bungled and we were miles past Mallow Junction before mistake was discovered we halted on the line. Officers passed up & down the railway track. On we went again to next station where we were got on to the down track & back again to Mallow. After a good time there we started again. This time on right road and we reached Limerick without further misadventure.
We had a long delay in the Limerick Station. Luckily we saw a friendly commercial who very kindly lent an overcoat of his to my companion - in fetters. This coat was a great boon to him as nights for some time after were very cold and our covering very scanty. I saw 3 or 4 people I knew on platforms. They saluted us in friendly manner, but were shy of coming near us. Perhaps they feared they may be arrested for showing sympathy with SínnFeiners. It is I believe an offence under Defence of the Realm Act and punished by imprisonment without trial. This same “Defence of the Realm” is a very useful Act and like charity covers a multitude of sins.
We left Limerick about 1 o’c and travelled via Nenagh to Ballybrophy, stopping at a few stations where we were objects of curiosity for the people on platforms. We were greeted with neither smile nor frown, just stared at with wondering curiosity, as if we were some strange breed of animals.
About this time we were getting hungry. Even Sínn Feiners need food occasionally, and our breakfast was not a very substantial meal: but never a morsel did we get from our gallant military masters. Our soldier escort got his days rations. A tin of bully beef and about a dozen large army biscuits. He was a Limerick man as he told us. A stolid, silent but good natured man, perhaps 40 years old, and was one year in the army. Was probably a labourer at the docks or in one of the bacon stores, till’ the war fever took him. This poor fellow was not handy at his beef tin, and when he had broken the keyband, had to get it opened with a bayonet. He offered us some of his beef & biscuits, but at first we did not care to trespass on his allowance, but as he appeared disappointed, we tried a biscuit & a little of the beef : this taste of food & 4 sandwiches which our police escort kindly got for us at Ballybrophy & which we divided between all six of us was all the food we had this entire day : not ‘till half past eight on Wednesday morning did we get anything to eat. We did get water to drink from a bucket at Richmond Barracks gymnasium room. I do not think the military authorities wanted to starve us, but they are such “absent minded beggars” and such a happy go lucky lot they made no preparation for our upkeep. In fact it is a bit of luck for them that they found the way to Richmond Barracks at all. I am inclined to believe that if it was necessary to convey us by road from Cork to Dublin that we would most likely find ourselves in Galway. As it was, the train being headed in proper direction we just managed to “muddle through”.
We arrived at Kingsbridge before 6 o’c p.m. & after a long wait while military guard was being brought from the Richmond Barracks, we were marched still handcuffed from Kingsbridge to our destination arriving about 8 o’c. The military guard that came with us from Cork never left train but were sent back to the Southern capital straight away. Our journey thro’ Dublin to Richmond was through quiet streets and our arrival attracted no great attention tho’ we felt that we were in a friendly atmosphere. The people looked kindly onus as we passed along.
A haggard, tired & hungry procession.
We had a long delay in the Limerick Station. Luckily we saw a friendly commercial who very kindly lent an overcoat of his to my companion - in fetters. This coat was a great boon to him as nights for some time after were very cold and our covering very scanty. I saw 3 or 4 people I knew on platforms. They saluted us in friendly manner, but were shy of coming near us. Perhaps they feared they may be arrested for showing sympathy with SínnFeiners. It is I believe an offence under Defence of the Realm Act and punished by imprisonment without trial. This same “Defence of the Realm” is a very useful Act and like charity covers a multitude of sins.
We left Limerick about 1 o’c and travelled via Nenagh to Ballybrophy, stopping at a few stations where we were objects of curiosity for the people on platforms. We were greeted with neither smile nor frown, just stared at with wondering curiosity, as if we were some strange breed of animals.
About this time we were getting hungry. Even Sínn Feiners need food occasionally, and our breakfast was not a very substantial meal: but never a morsel did we get from our gallant military masters. Our soldier escort got his days rations. A tin of bully beef and about a dozen large army biscuits. He was a Limerick man as he told us. A stolid, silent but good natured man, perhaps 40 years old, and was one year in the army. Was probably a labourer at the docks or in one of the bacon stores, till’ the war fever took him. This poor fellow was not handy at his beef tin, and when he had broken the keyband, had to get it opened with a bayonet. He offered us some of his beef & biscuits, but at first we did not care to trespass on his allowance, but as he appeared disappointed, we tried a biscuit & a little of the beef : this taste of food & 4 sandwiches which our police escort kindly got for us at Ballybrophy & which we divided between all six of us was all the food we had this entire day : not ‘till half past eight on Wednesday morning did we get anything to eat. We did get water to drink from a bucket at Richmond Barracks gymnasium room. I do not think the military authorities wanted to starve us, but they are such “absent minded beggars” and such a happy go lucky lot they made no preparation for our upkeep. In fact it is a bit of luck for them that they found the way to Richmond Barracks at all. I am inclined to believe that if it was necessary to convey us by road from Cork to Dublin that we would most likely find ourselves in Galway. As it was, the train being headed in proper direction we just managed to “muddle through”.
We arrived at Kingsbridge before 6 o’c p.m. & after a long wait while military guard was being brought from the Richmond Barracks, we were marched still handcuffed from Kingsbridge to our destination arriving about 8 o’c. The military guard that came with us from Cork never left train but were sent back to the Southern capital straight away. Our journey thro’ Dublin to Richmond was through quiet streets and our arrival attracted no great attention tho’ we felt that we were in a friendly atmosphere. The people looked kindly onus as we passed along.
A haggard, tired & hungry procession.
Under Military Discipline
Life in Richmond Barracks – May 9th. to 19th, 1916
It was nearly 8 p.m. when we were brought into the gymnasium room in the Richmond Barracks, and now the first trouble was to get our bracelets taken off. Some of the handcuffs used belonged to the military and some to the police. Ours was opened after trying half a dozen keys. Others had greater trouble in getting keys to fit. More than 200 men were in the room, perhaps 60ft. x 30. 3 or 4 soldiers were on guard between us and the exit door and we were told to keep back from this upper portion of the room. But after half an hours moping about, as might be expected, with such a number of hungry men huddled together, many gradually edged forwarder than the military people thought was necessary, and a tall hulking loose jointed officer rushed in and bellowed, simply bellowed at us “Get back. Get back there you or you will have trouble.” “If you again press forward beyond those posts (about ¾ of the room would thus be allowed us) you will get the rifles.” Tapping a soldier’s rifle as he spoke, “and not the butt of the rifle but the bayonet”.
This was the first genuine Hun we had come in contact with. This man was an officer who had authority over the prisoners. His regiment had suffered severely in the Dublin fight. So Sir J. Maxwell picked this English regiment out as the proper guards for Sínn Fein sympathisers. This captain was a blustering bully. I never met a man who got up my temper as he did. And I can say as much and more for most of the men in that room. His words were challenge enough, but the scowl he wore and savage tones of his threat made the blood boil up. I know more than 20 men, and good hearted decent men, who would give a little to have it out with this truculent tyrant. Just 20 minutes armed or unarmed on that barrack square.
Let me try to describe him as he appeared to me. He had a peculiar face. His cap covered what forehead he had. Nose stood out prominently, black moustache also prominent, not curled back or trimmed. The lower front of his face was a misfit. At least three sizes too small for upper portion described. The lower lip & jaw fell away disclosing his teeth. Especially sinister looking when he roared at the prisoners. And this roaring &threatening was a daily pastime of his. He wore boots and leggings combined. Slouched rather than walked, and with a whip in his hand and a wide awake hat, he was atypical slave-driver. I remember the slave dealer in ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’, he was just such another as our tyrant. I christened him “Young J. Bull” and will allude to him whenever he crops up in my story under this cognomen.
After quite a long time in this room, where we could refresh ourselves with draughts of water from a bucket, we were called in turn to a sort of office where sat an officer with a collection of little bundles on a table in front of him. When my turn came I found this officer courteous & gentlemany. He opened the parcel that held my property. Gave me all my letters etc., and gave me about 10/- out of the money taken from me. He told me I could have my money to buy any food, tobacco etc. up to £1. I would get more of what he retained after a time. I was favourably impressed by his affable manner.
It was now almost dark when we were drafted in batches of 25 to the soldiers sleeping rooms. We Tipperary men & those whose acquaintance we had made held together. Our room was a good size about 30ft. x 20. With two good sized windows in front & 2 in rear. When we were housed we thought we would get a meal, and we were not shy about asking for it. From every officer & NCO that came to us, and at least half a dozen did, counting us, calling out our names & recounting us, we asked the same question. “Would we get something to eat as we had nothing since early morning.” The invariable answer was “I’ll see what can be done.” Well nothing was done. We got in 25 blankets, some flimsy affairs and others fairly heavy, and we were advised to make ourselves at home, wrap ourselves up and go to sleep.
This first night in Richmond was something to be remembered. Hungry & tired as we all were, the best of good humour prevailed. Funny stories, tales of the circumstances of our arrests, and some of the happenings were almost incredible. The treatment meted out to the prisoners in different parts of [the] country kept us awake and amused until the small hours. We had no light in [the] room. Gradually the groups broke up. I tried to get rest and some sleep.
Dalton Benn & I annexed one of the corners, and each of us stretched out with our blanket wound round our feet & as much of us as possible. But it was no good, the floor was too hard. There was no “bright spot”, no softness in Richmond Room M4 floor. Besides the night was cold and the single blanket was not able to keep one sufficiently warm. I had to sit up in the corner & my companions obligingly rested their heads, one across my feet & the other in my lap. I tried to stick this position but in half-an-hour I became stiff & had to disturb the sleepers. I got on my feet and draping myself like an old Roman I waltzed around the room to get warm & to keep up any good spirits.
The sight around was most laughable. Imagine this big room. Empty of any kind of furniture& the 20 odd humans twisted & doubled all shapes pretending to be resting & sleeping. An armed sentinel marching up & down before our windows in front, another before rere windows & two sentinels on [the] landing outside locked door. Those latter were changed every few hours with great clatter & noise. I don’t think any of our company slept much this night. Before 5o’c all were up dancing about [the] room. We had a good spell to wait before guards opened our door to hand us in 2 mops [and] a pail of water in which was some disinfectant fluid & we were told to wash out room & dry up afterwards. Next we were taken at intervals across [the] yard in batches of six men with two armed sentries.
At 8.30 we got in some army biscuits 3 to each man. They were as hard as a brick but good as food. We got 12 tins of bully beef, two men to each tin, & one odd man had to look out for pieces of meat here & there. When we had partaken of some of the meat & were trying hard to munch ‘thro the biscuits, a pail of tea was brought to us and 3 tin bowls. Now three vessels between twenty five men is a bit too economical. So we had to empty out the beef tins & then there were cups enough. Hunger is a very good sauce.
There was no biscuit, no beef, not a drop of tea left in room M4 by nine o’clock. The tea was not what you would get at [ illegible ] at home & it was not very hot. But it helped to moisten and wash down the food.
We had no knife, fork or spoon. No plate, table or chair. Just squatted on the floor and used the means nature provides for all animals. Our dinner was exactly like the breakfast, minus the tea. Instead we had [a] liberal supply of water. Our 3rd. meal, tea & biscuits only. This food did not vary from Wednesday May the 10th. ‘till Monday 15th.
After Mr. Wiley Asquith’s visit the tea was limited in quantity about half pint each man & scarce ever hot. Little milk or sugar was used in its preparation.Our guards & indeed all the English soldiers were at these early days very hostile towards us. But by judicious tips, and our invariable good humour we won them round to good temper and even to a certain amount of sympathy. They collared a good deal of our money. Often brought us the articles we wanted, such as tobacco, newspapers, butter etc. and often they did not bring the things we sent them for, but forget to bring back our money.
We read in the newspapers of the horror, the indignation, and bitter hostility that the Insurrection brought to the minds of the true nationalists. The Irishmen who are so fond of “resoluting”. Resolutions condemning, deploring, regretting and repudiating the base Sínn Feiners their dupes & sympathisers.Were the men who were here prisoners in the hostile British camp annoyed or vexed at their patriotic countrymen’s vehement protestations of loyalty to the Crown and Empire, and abhorrence of the traitors who gave their lives in Dublin, freely willingly and cheerfully that the cause of dear Ireland & that Irish nationality might still live on in spite of imperialists & empires. No they were not vexed nor even astonished. They only laughed contemptuously:
Let traitors sneer, let tyrants frown
Oh. Little did they care,
A Felon’s Caps’ the noblest Crown,
An Irish head can wear.
We read [ illegible ] …a venomous sheet crying for more blood. Shrieking for vengeance and article after article the most shockingly callous and brutally plain, inciting the only too willing military despots to spare not. Kill on & kill on quickly. Asquith was coming. When poor Connolly R.I.P. was no more, the articles were stopped. The enemy was downed. Let us have clemency. Yes clemency for the misguided men whose boots he is not good enough to be allowed clean. What is the matter with our press.
Our “Irish Nationalist” papers. I read the Cork Examiner, also, lies prevarications & inventions. No honesty. No decent manly national spirit. Is it this damned “German Gold” that has sapped the integrity of a one-time nationalist journalism. I did not read the Freeman. Nobody wants to read it. It is the doting backboneless old woman. An old humbug of a paper, typical of the “party” whose official organ it is.
The only decent newspaper I read whose articles on Ireland were worth reading about this time & for 2 or 3 weeks subsequently was first the English “Catholic Times”, and afterwards in a degree the Cork Free Press. We have since we came here to Glasgow, unearthed a few good provincial papers. As the Kilkenny People. God help the people of Ireland who believe what they read in her daily papers. God save Ireland from her “Nationalist Press”.
This was the first genuine Hun we had come in contact with. This man was an officer who had authority over the prisoners. His regiment had suffered severely in the Dublin fight. So Sir J. Maxwell picked this English regiment out as the proper guards for Sínn Fein sympathisers. This captain was a blustering bully. I never met a man who got up my temper as he did. And I can say as much and more for most of the men in that room. His words were challenge enough, but the scowl he wore and savage tones of his threat made the blood boil up. I know more than 20 men, and good hearted decent men, who would give a little to have it out with this truculent tyrant. Just 20 minutes armed or unarmed on that barrack square.
Let me try to describe him as he appeared to me. He had a peculiar face. His cap covered what forehead he had. Nose stood out prominently, black moustache also prominent, not curled back or trimmed. The lower front of his face was a misfit. At least three sizes too small for upper portion described. The lower lip & jaw fell away disclosing his teeth. Especially sinister looking when he roared at the prisoners. And this roaring &threatening was a daily pastime of his. He wore boots and leggings combined. Slouched rather than walked, and with a whip in his hand and a wide awake hat, he was atypical slave-driver. I remember the slave dealer in ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’, he was just such another as our tyrant. I christened him “Young J. Bull” and will allude to him whenever he crops up in my story under this cognomen.
After quite a long time in this room, where we could refresh ourselves with draughts of water from a bucket, we were called in turn to a sort of office where sat an officer with a collection of little bundles on a table in front of him. When my turn came I found this officer courteous & gentlemany. He opened the parcel that held my property. Gave me all my letters etc., and gave me about 10/- out of the money taken from me. He told me I could have my money to buy any food, tobacco etc. up to £1. I would get more of what he retained after a time. I was favourably impressed by his affable manner.
It was now almost dark when we were drafted in batches of 25 to the soldiers sleeping rooms. We Tipperary men & those whose acquaintance we had made held together. Our room was a good size about 30ft. x 20. With two good sized windows in front & 2 in rear. When we were housed we thought we would get a meal, and we were not shy about asking for it. From every officer & NCO that came to us, and at least half a dozen did, counting us, calling out our names & recounting us, we asked the same question. “Would we get something to eat as we had nothing since early morning.” The invariable answer was “I’ll see what can be done.” Well nothing was done. We got in 25 blankets, some flimsy affairs and others fairly heavy, and we were advised to make ourselves at home, wrap ourselves up and go to sleep.
This first night in Richmond was something to be remembered. Hungry & tired as we all were, the best of good humour prevailed. Funny stories, tales of the circumstances of our arrests, and some of the happenings were almost incredible. The treatment meted out to the prisoners in different parts of [the] country kept us awake and amused until the small hours. We had no light in [the] room. Gradually the groups broke up. I tried to get rest and some sleep.
Dalton Benn & I annexed one of the corners, and each of us stretched out with our blanket wound round our feet & as much of us as possible. But it was no good, the floor was too hard. There was no “bright spot”, no softness in Richmond Room M4 floor. Besides the night was cold and the single blanket was not able to keep one sufficiently warm. I had to sit up in the corner & my companions obligingly rested their heads, one across my feet & the other in my lap. I tried to stick this position but in half-an-hour I became stiff & had to disturb the sleepers. I got on my feet and draping myself like an old Roman I waltzed around the room to get warm & to keep up any good spirits.
The sight around was most laughable. Imagine this big room. Empty of any kind of furniture& the 20 odd humans twisted & doubled all shapes pretending to be resting & sleeping. An armed sentinel marching up & down before our windows in front, another before rere windows & two sentinels on [the] landing outside locked door. Those latter were changed every few hours with great clatter & noise. I don’t think any of our company slept much this night. Before 5o’c all were up dancing about [the] room. We had a good spell to wait before guards opened our door to hand us in 2 mops [and] a pail of water in which was some disinfectant fluid & we were told to wash out room & dry up afterwards. Next we were taken at intervals across [the] yard in batches of six men with two armed sentries.
At 8.30 we got in some army biscuits 3 to each man. They were as hard as a brick but good as food. We got 12 tins of bully beef, two men to each tin, & one odd man had to look out for pieces of meat here & there. When we had partaken of some of the meat & were trying hard to munch ‘thro the biscuits, a pail of tea was brought to us and 3 tin bowls. Now three vessels between twenty five men is a bit too economical. So we had to empty out the beef tins & then there were cups enough. Hunger is a very good sauce.
There was no biscuit, no beef, not a drop of tea left in room M4 by nine o’clock. The tea was not what you would get at [ illegible ] at home & it was not very hot. But it helped to moisten and wash down the food.
We had no knife, fork or spoon. No plate, table or chair. Just squatted on the floor and used the means nature provides for all animals. Our dinner was exactly like the breakfast, minus the tea. Instead we had [a] liberal supply of water. Our 3rd. meal, tea & biscuits only. This food did not vary from Wednesday May the 10th. ‘till Monday 15th.
After Mr. Wiley Asquith’s visit the tea was limited in quantity about half pint each man & scarce ever hot. Little milk or sugar was used in its preparation.Our guards & indeed all the English soldiers were at these early days very hostile towards us. But by judicious tips, and our invariable good humour we won them round to good temper and even to a certain amount of sympathy. They collared a good deal of our money. Often brought us the articles we wanted, such as tobacco, newspapers, butter etc. and often they did not bring the things we sent them for, but forget to bring back our money.
We read in the newspapers of the horror, the indignation, and bitter hostility that the Insurrection brought to the minds of the true nationalists. The Irishmen who are so fond of “resoluting”. Resolutions condemning, deploring, regretting and repudiating the base Sínn Feiners their dupes & sympathisers.Were the men who were here prisoners in the hostile British camp annoyed or vexed at their patriotic countrymen’s vehement protestations of loyalty to the Crown and Empire, and abhorrence of the traitors who gave their lives in Dublin, freely willingly and cheerfully that the cause of dear Ireland & that Irish nationality might still live on in spite of imperialists & empires. No they were not vexed nor even astonished. They only laughed contemptuously:
Let traitors sneer, let tyrants frown
Oh. Little did they care,
A Felon’s Caps’ the noblest Crown,
An Irish head can wear.
We read [ illegible ] …a venomous sheet crying for more blood. Shrieking for vengeance and article after article the most shockingly callous and brutally plain, inciting the only too willing military despots to spare not. Kill on & kill on quickly. Asquith was coming. When poor Connolly R.I.P. was no more, the articles were stopped. The enemy was downed. Let us have clemency. Yes clemency for the misguided men whose boots he is not good enough to be allowed clean. What is the matter with our press.
Our “Irish Nationalist” papers. I read the Cork Examiner, also, lies prevarications & inventions. No honesty. No decent manly national spirit. Is it this damned “German Gold” that has sapped the integrity of a one-time nationalist journalism. I did not read the Freeman. Nobody wants to read it. It is the doting backboneless old woman. An old humbug of a paper, typical of the “party” whose official organ it is.
The only decent newspaper I read whose articles on Ireland were worth reading about this time & for 2 or 3 weeks subsequently was first the English “Catholic Times”, and afterwards in a degree the Cork Free Press. We have since we came here to Glasgow, unearthed a few good provincial papers. As the Kilkenny People. God help the people of Ireland who believe what they read in her daily papers. God save Ireland from her “Nationalist Press”.
Let me go back to my prison life in Richmond. Our second day passed quickly enough. We were busy making one another’s acquaintance. Men from Sligo, Roscommon, Bandon, Millstreet, Wexford, Kilkenny, Clonmel, Mitchelstown, Queenstown, Cork & Tipperary. Some great artists; genial, witty & original. Full of fun, full of patriotism & all intensely religious. We had Rosary in Irish, morning & night. No ostentation about it. Just as much in the days work as our meals. The demeanour, the grand character of those men as they gradually developed themselves for us, was an eye-opener for more persons than me. I remember the remarks of a friend who was a bit pessimistic after our Cork experience & after reading the resolutions from boards & councils. He thought Ireland was a country to quit, but when he saw the fine young fellows who were an honour & credit to the parents that reared& educated them, when he heard the sentiments of hope & patriotic resolve from all, he no longer despaired of old Ireland’s future.
I remember reading account of address by our Archbishop to some of his flock, where he congratulated those same genuine nationalists who were deploring & condemning on their wise patriotism. On their Christian zeal & true Catholic piety. I can only say “If the nationalists who condemn deplore & “resolve” are better than those men I met in Richmond, better Irishmen & better Catholics, then indeed we are a wonderful people and Ireland is a nation of pious and patriotic men”.
We were not taken for exercise this first day. But next day, Thursday, we were marched under escort of about a dozen men to a broad passageway in rear of our block. We were only just finished dinner so we were not as fit as we might be for the extremely brisk work before us. The officer in command handed us over to a drill Sergt. with instructions to “take it out of those fellows”, and [the] Sergt. did or tried hard to do so. His harsh roaring voice “left – right. Left – left – go on. Left – right, double – quicker. Left – left. Why don’t you lift them” roused the blood of our lads. Soon we had an audience. Many police constables, mostly Sergts. & Heads were about & they quickly came our way to enjoy the fun. The men of the Derbys & Berks who were off duty also had some entertainment.
I held on as long as I could but eventually when double was kept up for too long I dropped out of ranks. I was ordered sharply to fall in and I did so when I had a minute or two to get my breath. Again we were at it worse than before, left – left. Double left wheel, double quicker, go on lift ‘em’ till’ I was pretty nearly winded. I again fell out. This time a young Lieutenant with boyish appearance told me sharply “fall in at once”. I told him I should have time to recover my breath, that I was not equal to such violent exercise, as I was not accustomed to drill. “You can get on the tops of houses and shoot people” he says with an attempt at a snarl. No I said I never shot anything from a housetop not even a cat.
“Get in at once or you will get the bayonet” he threatens pointing to one of our sentry escorts bayonet. But I did not. I told him I was not frightened at his threat. That I would fall in when I found myself equal to more of the drilling exercise. This incident attracted considerable attention, and when I did fall in soon after our Sergt. ceased shouting & kept us a few minutes marking time & after just a quick march of a few hundred yards we were taken back to our room. The younger men were only enjoying themselves, but many of the company had quite enough of exercise that day.
Whenever after we had exercise the pace was moderate & we were able to enjoy it. Next day Friday I had my first visit. Fr. Hannon S.J. called to see me and as are all clergymen who visited prisoners he was brought to [the] landing outside our room, but the interview was in [the] presence of an officer, who stood with us. I told much of my experience and [the] officer listening was hugely interested. I told of [the] incident the previous evening & the insulting threat of the immature sub Lieutenant.
The officer who was a Capt. and a fine type of gentleman & soldier, told me to report to [the] medical officer & that I need not take exercise at all - I told him that I did not object to exercise that I would prefer to take it with all our men. But I told him I objected being brought there, a prisoner, untried and without a charge preferred – and forced to prance about in such a violent manner in order to amuse the military &police loungers. I was afterwards asked by a Major to make a report of complaint against the young Lieutenant but I did not care to do so. I had a sort of pity for this youth, who had as much right to be put in charge of men, as I could have to be made chief surgeon in one of the base hospitals.
This evening as we came into hall from which staircase led to our room, a Tipperary man in the R[oyal] Irish Regiment thrust a pipe & some tobacco into our pockets. And later [illegiblename] brought us in bread, butter, biscuits, pipes & all kinds of presents. The genuine sympathy of those men & the pleasure they had in being of use to us in our misfortune, touched us Tipperary men deeply – If the guards at our door were not civil they would assuredly catch it from the boys of the Royal Irish.
Afterwards Sergt. J. Juane, our one time volunteer instructor came to see us & did not come empty handed. The Irishman is big hearted and loyal to his own, especially in hostile surroundings. And the Irish soldiers of those barracks did not appear to hit it off or fraternise with the English regiments. There were several squabbles & more cheers for Ireland, always against the ancient enemy. If we are to have that happy “Closer Union” I fear there will be many shindies – no they are too different, too much opposed in principles and mode of life & thought. There will never be any real union of the English & Irish races. It is an impossibility.
On Friday our company was broken up. Sixteen of our men were deported with some hundreds of others. We sang “God Save Ireland” while they were lined up on the square & were threatened to be fired on. Young J. Bull roared & bellowed at us. “Get back from those windows”, “Get back or I fire”, & his revolver is presented. Afterwards the guard has orders to present his rifle at any one showing himself at the window. One of our men Wm. Dalton held his ground ‘till the soldier drew back [the] bolt preparatory to firing – I expect he would not fire but they could & did punish for disobedience. Solitary confinement & bread & water 48 hours.
We were told on the Thursday that we could consult solicitor if we wished & any one who cared to do so was to hand in his name & solicitor’s name & address to an officer who came around for purpose -: all who expressed a wish to consult solicitor – in our room – were among those deported next day. While in those barracks I never saw any solicitor call & I did not meet any prisoner who was allowed to see one. I should have mentioned that an official dressed like a prison warder called with an apparatus & took our “finger marks”. One young man objected & refused to allow him but an officer was sent for & he was forced to allow himself be subjected to this which is treatment reserved for criminals.
I remember reading account of address by our Archbishop to some of his flock, where he congratulated those same genuine nationalists who were deploring & condemning on their wise patriotism. On their Christian zeal & true Catholic piety. I can only say “If the nationalists who condemn deplore & “resolve” are better than those men I met in Richmond, better Irishmen & better Catholics, then indeed we are a wonderful people and Ireland is a nation of pious and patriotic men”.
We were not taken for exercise this first day. But next day, Thursday, we were marched under escort of about a dozen men to a broad passageway in rear of our block. We were only just finished dinner so we were not as fit as we might be for the extremely brisk work before us. The officer in command handed us over to a drill Sergt. with instructions to “take it out of those fellows”, and [the] Sergt. did or tried hard to do so. His harsh roaring voice “left – right. Left – left – go on. Left – right, double – quicker. Left – left. Why don’t you lift them” roused the blood of our lads. Soon we had an audience. Many police constables, mostly Sergts. & Heads were about & they quickly came our way to enjoy the fun. The men of the Derbys & Berks who were off duty also had some entertainment.
I held on as long as I could but eventually when double was kept up for too long I dropped out of ranks. I was ordered sharply to fall in and I did so when I had a minute or two to get my breath. Again we were at it worse than before, left – left. Double left wheel, double quicker, go on lift ‘em’ till’ I was pretty nearly winded. I again fell out. This time a young Lieutenant with boyish appearance told me sharply “fall in at once”. I told him I should have time to recover my breath, that I was not equal to such violent exercise, as I was not accustomed to drill. “You can get on the tops of houses and shoot people” he says with an attempt at a snarl. No I said I never shot anything from a housetop not even a cat.
“Get in at once or you will get the bayonet” he threatens pointing to one of our sentry escorts bayonet. But I did not. I told him I was not frightened at his threat. That I would fall in when I found myself equal to more of the drilling exercise. This incident attracted considerable attention, and when I did fall in soon after our Sergt. ceased shouting & kept us a few minutes marking time & after just a quick march of a few hundred yards we were taken back to our room. The younger men were only enjoying themselves, but many of the company had quite enough of exercise that day.
Whenever after we had exercise the pace was moderate & we were able to enjoy it. Next day Friday I had my first visit. Fr. Hannon S.J. called to see me and as are all clergymen who visited prisoners he was brought to [the] landing outside our room, but the interview was in [the] presence of an officer, who stood with us. I told much of my experience and [the] officer listening was hugely interested. I told of [the] incident the previous evening & the insulting threat of the immature sub Lieutenant.
The officer who was a Capt. and a fine type of gentleman & soldier, told me to report to [the] medical officer & that I need not take exercise at all - I told him that I did not object to exercise that I would prefer to take it with all our men. But I told him I objected being brought there, a prisoner, untried and without a charge preferred – and forced to prance about in such a violent manner in order to amuse the military &police loungers. I was afterwards asked by a Major to make a report of complaint against the young Lieutenant but I did not care to do so. I had a sort of pity for this youth, who had as much right to be put in charge of men, as I could have to be made chief surgeon in one of the base hospitals.
This evening as we came into hall from which staircase led to our room, a Tipperary man in the R[oyal] Irish Regiment thrust a pipe & some tobacco into our pockets. And later [illegiblename] brought us in bread, butter, biscuits, pipes & all kinds of presents. The genuine sympathy of those men & the pleasure they had in being of use to us in our misfortune, touched us Tipperary men deeply – If the guards at our door were not civil they would assuredly catch it from the boys of the Royal Irish.
Afterwards Sergt. J. Juane, our one time volunteer instructor came to see us & did not come empty handed. The Irishman is big hearted and loyal to his own, especially in hostile surroundings. And the Irish soldiers of those barracks did not appear to hit it off or fraternise with the English regiments. There were several squabbles & more cheers for Ireland, always against the ancient enemy. If we are to have that happy “Closer Union” I fear there will be many shindies – no they are too different, too much opposed in principles and mode of life & thought. There will never be any real union of the English & Irish races. It is an impossibility.
On Friday our company was broken up. Sixteen of our men were deported with some hundreds of others. We sang “God Save Ireland” while they were lined up on the square & were threatened to be fired on. Young J. Bull roared & bellowed at us. “Get back from those windows”, “Get back or I fire”, & his revolver is presented. Afterwards the guard has orders to present his rifle at any one showing himself at the window. One of our men Wm. Dalton held his ground ‘till the soldier drew back [the] bolt preparatory to firing – I expect he would not fire but they could & did punish for disobedience. Solitary confinement & bread & water 48 hours.
We were told on the Thursday that we could consult solicitor if we wished & any one who cared to do so was to hand in his name & solicitor’s name & address to an officer who came around for purpose -: all who expressed a wish to consult solicitor – in our room – were among those deported next day. While in those barracks I never saw any solicitor call & I did not meet any prisoner who was allowed to see one. I should have mentioned that an official dressed like a prison warder called with an apparatus & took our “finger marks”. One young man objected & refused to allow him but an officer was sent for & he was forced to allow himself be subjected to this which is treatment reserved for criminals.
The military authorities soon got tired of taking prisoners across [the] yard. We had too many opportunities of meeting Irish soldiers, and on Thursday they had the whole building surrounded with barbed wire & within 25 yards of the entrance gate they constructed a very primitive latrine. It was the agreeable duty of the prisoners to clean up this barbarous enclosure daily. Prisoners were taken more or less haphazardly from each room in turn. Our room sent ten men to this parade as soldiers called it the very day we left for Scotland. I was fortunate not to be included.
I was called to meet my Jesuit relative and this time met a different officer attending, a Captain of Sherwood Foresters. He was very bitter towards Sínn Feiners. They had played havoc with his regiment and some of his friends had fallen. He promised “socks” to them should they ever again dare to attempt rebellion. Joining in our conversation he admired the fine physique of some Galway men who were out at exercise. Thought they would make fine soldiers, and could not understand English like why they weren’t fighting with “us”. It was monstrous they were not conscripted. He spoke as if he the Englishman owned them. They were the inferior, subject race, why not make them fight for the Empire. He drew a dreadful picture as to their fate if the Germans got power over them. He was the typical prejudiced narrow-minded, self-satisfied English gentleman, our master. He belonged to an altogether superior people.
We were transferred to go after our friends were deported on the Friday evening. In this room we had very strict discipline. Capt. O’Connell whom we gladly elected to preside insisted on orderly habits. Daily routine was up at 6 to 6.30. Out in batches of 6 to wash etc. Room sprinkled and thoroughly swept. [We held on to a brush of our own to do this.] As by now we were not getting the sanitary wash, breakfast at 8 o’c. All lined up. 4 orderlies were appointed. Rations were handed to each man as he passed the two who were appointed to distribute. When evening came & everything was tidy we had songs, recitations, very comic stories that fairly convulsed us. Rosary at 9.30, bed at 10 o’c. All had made out better arrangements than we had on our first night. 3 lay together & folding coat in boots made a pillow & there were 3 blankets now to cover us as in one bed.
On Saturday the great man Mr. Asquith called. He did visit some of the rooms & asked a few questions, but he did not visit all. His visit preceded a very marked change in the diet, in the demeanour of the military people both to us prisoners & to visitors.
On Sunday we attended Mass under peculiar circumstances. The altar was placed about 80 yards from our rooms so as to be in view of the windows of every room where prisoners were confined. By kneeling in tiers we were all able to see and follow the priest during divine service. We were allowed to come to the windows on this occasion.
But usually, especially if Young J. Bull was around, we were forbidden to show ourselves too near &on no account allowed to raise [the] window from bottom. Young John Bull was not lenient towards us, and he treated all visitors with very scant courtesy. Altogether he made himself as disagreeable as he well could. Curiously enough his men did not dislike him.I asked some of them when we had got into favour with them what sort of man their Captain was. The invariable reply was “he was very strict, insisted on discipline, but was not afterwards a bad sort”. On the other hand they jeered at a quiet gentle mannered young Lieutenant with a lisp who usually led us out to see visitors. And who would be more at home at a lady’s tea party, or lawn tennis in ordinary times. He was too mild for them and spoke to them as if they were human beings. The English soldier does not understand mild treatment from an officer.
I was called to meet my Jesuit relative and this time met a different officer attending, a Captain of Sherwood Foresters. He was very bitter towards Sínn Feiners. They had played havoc with his regiment and some of his friends had fallen. He promised “socks” to them should they ever again dare to attempt rebellion. Joining in our conversation he admired the fine physique of some Galway men who were out at exercise. Thought they would make fine soldiers, and could not understand English like why they weren’t fighting with “us”. It was monstrous they were not conscripted. He spoke as if he the Englishman owned them. They were the inferior, subject race, why not make them fight for the Empire. He drew a dreadful picture as to their fate if the Germans got power over them. He was the typical prejudiced narrow-minded, self-satisfied English gentleman, our master. He belonged to an altogether superior people.
We were transferred to go after our friends were deported on the Friday evening. In this room we had very strict discipline. Capt. O’Connell whom we gladly elected to preside insisted on orderly habits. Daily routine was up at 6 to 6.30. Out in batches of 6 to wash etc. Room sprinkled and thoroughly swept. [We held on to a brush of our own to do this.] As by now we were not getting the sanitary wash, breakfast at 8 o’c. All lined up. 4 orderlies were appointed. Rations were handed to each man as he passed the two who were appointed to distribute. When evening came & everything was tidy we had songs, recitations, very comic stories that fairly convulsed us. Rosary at 9.30, bed at 10 o’c. All had made out better arrangements than we had on our first night. 3 lay together & folding coat in boots made a pillow & there were 3 blankets now to cover us as in one bed.
On Saturday the great man Mr. Asquith called. He did visit some of the rooms & asked a few questions, but he did not visit all. His visit preceded a very marked change in the diet, in the demeanour of the military people both to us prisoners & to visitors.
On Sunday we attended Mass under peculiar circumstances. The altar was placed about 80 yards from our rooms so as to be in view of the windows of every room where prisoners were confined. By kneeling in tiers we were all able to see and follow the priest during divine service. We were allowed to come to the windows on this occasion.
But usually, especially if Young J. Bull was around, we were forbidden to show ourselves too near &on no account allowed to raise [the] window from bottom. Young John Bull was not lenient towards us, and he treated all visitors with very scant courtesy. Altogether he made himself as disagreeable as he well could. Curiously enough his men did not dislike him.I asked some of them when we had got into favour with them what sort of man their Captain was. The invariable reply was “he was very strict, insisted on discipline, but was not afterwards a bad sort”. On the other hand they jeered at a quiet gentle mannered young Lieutenant with a lisp who usually led us out to see visitors. And who would be more at home at a lady’s tea party, or lawn tennis in ordinary times. He was too mild for them and spoke to them as if they were human beings. The English soldier does not understand mild treatment from an officer.
On Monday came change in our diet and general treatment. We got some fried bacon for breakfast & had now six bowls between 24 men. We got bread, margarine & jam. But by this time we were in touch with our friends & were getting in eatables. All we got went into common stock. Nobody had a dainty all to himself. We all shared alike – gradually during [the] day we got in a table, seating accommodation, knife, fork, spoon, mug, plate, and on Tuesday afternoon another blanket each.
On second day of our bettered conditions there was a hitch. We got no bread with breakfast. Some absent minded beggar forgot to order it, and while we waited its arrival, our tea & bacon was stone cold. When dinner came found there was a little novelty. We had some kind of hash, savoury smelling enough & plenty good soup. This must have been the dish that tickled the appetites of the reporters who were brought to the barracks a few days after to write up a glowing account of the luxuries & high time the prisoners were having. I expect the news was meant for the Irish at home, but principally in America. The reporters hand was tickled before his nose was delighted & no wonder he went in raptures about the grand things the Sínn Feiners were getting.
We had no knives nor forks yet (we got them later in day) & it was awkward, 4 men eating & drinking meat & soup out of [the] same bowl. There were two potatoes to each man & just as we had divided the stuff into the bowls & were lining up to receive our portion, in bounced a young officer. A tall well set up man of 23 or 24yrs. ‘Tenshun, was shouted & we stood in double file before him. But some of the men were not quick enough and he used swear words. Knocked one or two of those nearest him about saying “Why don’t you jump to attention for me.”
In his pretended wrath he stumbled over one of our bowls & dashed our mess about the floor. This only vexed him the more. He ordered us out for exercise, and we had to leave our dinner behind. It was not so fragrant when it had 4 minutes to cool, and this incident did not improve our temper or raise the officer in our estimation. Strange to say nobody was really angry with him as they were with young J. Bull. They recognised that he was only trying to put on side and make us think that he was a devil of a fellow.
We were becoming quite settled down to life in Richmond by now. Had friends to see us every day, and had every comfort, even luxuries we would not bother about if we were at home, sent to us by our generous visitors. We were sorry for our friends who were deported before this change came about, and we missed some of them badly. Grand characters they all were. Our acquaintance was all too short, but we hope many of us to meet again.
In J2 room we heard of the deaths of Sean McDermott & Connolly. The bitter grief of us all, but particularly those of our party who had the privilege of Sean McDermott’s friendship, made it an unusually quiet solemn day. I saw as brave & as true hearted a man as I ever want to know cry, with his beads in his hand apart from us. Deep, lasting & bitter the feelings. The sorrow for the gentle Sean, the favourite of all who knew him. To know him was to love him R.I.P. Connolly’s execution was unexpected, he was reported to be badly wounded and would scarce recover. He was taken to place of execution on a stretcher and propped up so that military law should not be baulked of its prey. He too died a hero’s death, praying for those who fired on him & for every brave man who does his duty R.I.P. We had special prayers for those and for all who died in the fight for Ireland’s freedom.
From day to day we were meeting new friends, for the short time we were out to wash & at other times. We met Mr. Pim, Mr. D. Figgis. Mr. Lynch who was sentenced to 10 yrs. penal servitude because of his over generous act & the ingratitude of a British officer. It appears Mr. Lynch was in command in a certain building & took this officer & other prisoners, treated them well. Excellently – when the building became untenable he at risk of his life led the officer by a back street to safety. They shook hands at parting. This same officer came up to give evidence against Mr. Lynch & it was his evidence that brought about his conviction. He “knew him by his smile” – so he swore at the trial by Courtmartial.
Altogether I am proud of the companions I had in Richmond Barracks. If the military authorities wanted to make us realise how strong and how inclusive the Irish Volunteer Movement had grown, they could not have adopted any better method that the bringing of so many fine manly Irishmen together. Not only was the brawn & youth of Ireland well represented, but the brains & daring, the honesty, the unconquerable patriots whose ideal is “Ireland first, Ireland last, Ireland before everything, Ireland a Nation”.
Thursday, May 18
On Thursday May 18th. we were supplied with knapsacks & each man got a shirt. We were taken out in [the] afternoon & got a bath. A tip to Corporal in charge of our squad got an extra bucket of hot water. By now our room was famous for orderliness, for the fine concerts we had night after night. Some officers used to stand on [the] stairs to hear our songs – and for the sincere piety of our nightly rosary.
But indeed the rosary was recited in every room where Irish prisoners were to the edification I hope of the poor lads of the Derby & Berks, whose ordinary conversation is filled with filthy adjectives & expressions, but who do not appear to realise that they are, how objectionable their vocabulary is. I have heard it said that if you want to put a young man on the right road to hell you have only to get him to join the Army. And I certainly hold the opinion that he will need to be a very staunch Christian if he can withstand the evil example he is certain to meet. Especially in the English regiments.
On second day of our bettered conditions there was a hitch. We got no bread with breakfast. Some absent minded beggar forgot to order it, and while we waited its arrival, our tea & bacon was stone cold. When dinner came found there was a little novelty. We had some kind of hash, savoury smelling enough & plenty good soup. This must have been the dish that tickled the appetites of the reporters who were brought to the barracks a few days after to write up a glowing account of the luxuries & high time the prisoners were having. I expect the news was meant for the Irish at home, but principally in America. The reporters hand was tickled before his nose was delighted & no wonder he went in raptures about the grand things the Sínn Feiners were getting.
We had no knives nor forks yet (we got them later in day) & it was awkward, 4 men eating & drinking meat & soup out of [the] same bowl. There were two potatoes to each man & just as we had divided the stuff into the bowls & were lining up to receive our portion, in bounced a young officer. A tall well set up man of 23 or 24yrs. ‘Tenshun, was shouted & we stood in double file before him. But some of the men were not quick enough and he used swear words. Knocked one or two of those nearest him about saying “Why don’t you jump to attention for me.”
In his pretended wrath he stumbled over one of our bowls & dashed our mess about the floor. This only vexed him the more. He ordered us out for exercise, and we had to leave our dinner behind. It was not so fragrant when it had 4 minutes to cool, and this incident did not improve our temper or raise the officer in our estimation. Strange to say nobody was really angry with him as they were with young J. Bull. They recognised that he was only trying to put on side and make us think that he was a devil of a fellow.
We were becoming quite settled down to life in Richmond by now. Had friends to see us every day, and had every comfort, even luxuries we would not bother about if we were at home, sent to us by our generous visitors. We were sorry for our friends who were deported before this change came about, and we missed some of them badly. Grand characters they all were. Our acquaintance was all too short, but we hope many of us to meet again.
In J2 room we heard of the deaths of Sean McDermott & Connolly. The bitter grief of us all, but particularly those of our party who had the privilege of Sean McDermott’s friendship, made it an unusually quiet solemn day. I saw as brave & as true hearted a man as I ever want to know cry, with his beads in his hand apart from us. Deep, lasting & bitter the feelings. The sorrow for the gentle Sean, the favourite of all who knew him. To know him was to love him R.I.P. Connolly’s execution was unexpected, he was reported to be badly wounded and would scarce recover. He was taken to place of execution on a stretcher and propped up so that military law should not be baulked of its prey. He too died a hero’s death, praying for those who fired on him & for every brave man who does his duty R.I.P. We had special prayers for those and for all who died in the fight for Ireland’s freedom.
From day to day we were meeting new friends, for the short time we were out to wash & at other times. We met Mr. Pim, Mr. D. Figgis. Mr. Lynch who was sentenced to 10 yrs. penal servitude because of his over generous act & the ingratitude of a British officer. It appears Mr. Lynch was in command in a certain building & took this officer & other prisoners, treated them well. Excellently – when the building became untenable he at risk of his life led the officer by a back street to safety. They shook hands at parting. This same officer came up to give evidence against Mr. Lynch & it was his evidence that brought about his conviction. He “knew him by his smile” – so he swore at the trial by Courtmartial.
Altogether I am proud of the companions I had in Richmond Barracks. If the military authorities wanted to make us realise how strong and how inclusive the Irish Volunteer Movement had grown, they could not have adopted any better method that the bringing of so many fine manly Irishmen together. Not only was the brawn & youth of Ireland well represented, but the brains & daring, the honesty, the unconquerable patriots whose ideal is “Ireland first, Ireland last, Ireland before everything, Ireland a Nation”.
Thursday, May 18
On Thursday May 18th. we were supplied with knapsacks & each man got a shirt. We were taken out in [the] afternoon & got a bath. A tip to Corporal in charge of our squad got an extra bucket of hot water. By now our room was famous for orderliness, for the fine concerts we had night after night. Some officers used to stand on [the] stairs to hear our songs – and for the sincere piety of our nightly rosary.
But indeed the rosary was recited in every room where Irish prisoners were to the edification I hope of the poor lads of the Derby & Berks, whose ordinary conversation is filled with filthy adjectives & expressions, but who do not appear to realise that they are, how objectionable their vocabulary is. I have heard it said that if you want to put a young man on the right road to hell you have only to get him to join the Army. And I certainly hold the opinion that he will need to be a very staunch Christian if he can withstand the evil example he is certain to meet. Especially in the English regiments.
When the authorities saw we were too well off, they deported us to Barlinnie Prison.
Sunday, May 19
On Sunday morning May 19, we were to pack up our things in the haversack and be prepared for removal by 3.15 o.c. Some of our Company in J.2 were kept back. They were quiet lonely at parting. I saw tears in many eyes & I was sad to see two brothers parting. One came the other remained, tho’ they were not one of them tried, but were all deported later to some English prison. We had a few rousing songs when [the] hour was approaching. We wound up with “Ireland Over All”. Just before the order came with officer & escort & took us out to the barrack square and we were formed up there, our room heading the procession 4 deep at 3.30 p.m. We were served some biscuits & tea. The tea was cold & the biscuits hard as usual. But we did not bother. We had lots of dainties in parcels etc.
The day was pretty hot and whatever messing about the military people had, we were kept in the ranks for about 3 hours. One of our men, M. Daly, got quiet ill & had to lie down. I endeavoured to call “Young J. Bull’s” attention to his condition. But though I left the ranks & approached him, he waved me off & would not stand to hear what I had to say. However I managed to let him know that a man was in severe pain & he said he would send along a medical officer. A Red Cross first aid man came first but could do nothing to help. A doctor arrived in about 20 minutes. He was very attentive & sympathetic and soon had [the] patient removed in ambulance to M. Hospital.
At about 6.30 we started out surrounded by a strong escort. Crowds collected as we marched along by the quay and we got encouraging words & blessings from the people in the windows & on the sidewalks.
Sunday, May 19
On Sunday morning May 19, we were to pack up our things in the haversack and be prepared for removal by 3.15 o.c. Some of our Company in J.2 were kept back. They were quiet lonely at parting. I saw tears in many eyes & I was sad to see two brothers parting. One came the other remained, tho’ they were not one of them tried, but were all deported later to some English prison. We had a few rousing songs when [the] hour was approaching. We wound up with “Ireland Over All”. Just before the order came with officer & escort & took us out to the barrack square and we were formed up there, our room heading the procession 4 deep at 3.30 p.m. We were served some biscuits & tea. The tea was cold & the biscuits hard as usual. But we did not bother. We had lots of dainties in parcels etc.
The day was pretty hot and whatever messing about the military people had, we were kept in the ranks for about 3 hours. One of our men, M. Daly, got quiet ill & had to lie down. I endeavoured to call “Young J. Bull’s” attention to his condition. But though I left the ranks & approached him, he waved me off & would not stand to hear what I had to say. However I managed to let him know that a man was in severe pain & he said he would send along a medical officer. A Red Cross first aid man came first but could do nothing to help. A doctor arrived in about 20 minutes. He was very attentive & sympathetic and soon had [the] patient removed in ambulance to M. Hospital.
At about 6.30 we started out surrounded by a strong escort. Crowds collected as we marched along by the quay and we got encouraging words & blessings from the people in the windows & on the sidewalks.
When the authorities saw we were too well off, they deported us to Barlinnie Prison.
Sunday, May 19
On Sunday morning May 19, we were to pack up our things in the haversack and be prepared for removal by 3.15 o.c. Some of our Company in J.2 were kept back. They were quiet lonely at parting. I saw tears in many eyes & I was sad to see two brothers parting. One came the other remained, tho’ they were not one of them tried, but were all deported later to some English prison. We had a few rousing songs when [the] hour was approaching. We wound up with “Ireland Over All”. Just before the order came with officer & escort & took us out to the barrack square and we were formed up there, our room heading the procession 4 deep at 3.30 p.m. We were served some biscuits & tea. The tea was cold & the biscuits hard as usual. But we did not bother. We had lots of dainties in parcels etc.
The day was pretty hot and whatever messing about the military people had, we were kept in the ranks for about 3 hours. One of our men, M. Daly, got quiet ill & had to lie down. I endeavoured to call “Young J. Bull’s” attention to his condition. But though I left the ranks & approached him, he waved me off & would not stand to hear what I had to say. However I managed to let him know that a man was in severe pain & he said he would send along a medical officer. A Red Cross first aid man came first but could do nothing to help. A doctor arrived in about 20 minutes. He was very attentive & sympathetic and soon had [the] patient removed in ambulance to M. Hospital.
At about 6.30 we started out surrounded by a strong escort. Crowds collected as we marched along by the quay and we got encouraging words & blessings from the people in the windows & on the sidewalks. We were put on board the Glasgow boat “The Tiger” at about half seven. 200 men herded together in the cattle, sheep & pig compartments.
We learned that the people belonging to this boat had only a few hours notification that we would be part of the ship’s cargo. Be that as it may be, the preparation for our reception & accommodation did not entail much labour on them. The loose planks & hoardings that usually separated the sheep & pigs from the cattle were thrown haphazard over the ship’s bottom & a sprinkling of sawdust over these completed the makeshift for our resting place. The place was badly lighted in some darkness but this would be a minor cause of complaint if we had tolerable seating or resting accommodation. If one walked about the moist filth oozed up between the planks. If you sat to rest you could not get a comfortable position & there was not sufficient room to lie down, suppose you disregarding the dirt wished to do so. The men were divided into 2 sections with armed guards between. When were counted and our names called out we were left to our own resources.
For refreshment we had a bucket of water. I expect the same bucket that thirsty cattle drank from, and we were edified by the most abominable jests of the soldiers who were continually passing up & down a passageway behind where we were and who were amusing themselves with a poor specimen of humanity who at some time or other may have been a woman. Luckily we had a fair supply of eatables which we distributed among our group & to any others nearby. We had also a lb. packet of tea, and by judicious tips got a Sergeant to pour boiling water on a portion of the tea. We gave him sufficient to make a gallon of tea. He brought us about a pint & a half, but it was hot and we enjoyed it. Only there were not many sips when it had to go the round of our lot.
Afterwards the people of this boat served out some kind of a decoction at tea mug, and asked for a thick slice of bread in addition. As most of the lads from Galway & many of the others too needed something in the early morning this tea Sergeant did a brisk trade. I heard that the amount realised by this extortionate sale to hungry men was three pounds 12/s. Luckily the night was beautifully fine and looking thro’ the portholes the sea was almost smooth & shone like silver in the moonlight. I was always joking our boys in room J2 about the grand sea trip we were to have at Government expense. But I did not bargain for this. Still though all were angry, especially after our improved conditions at Richmond for four preceding days. Still they bore up cheerfully. We had our usual concert. The Galwaymen on [the] other side joined in and gave us some very stirring songs. And all the groups contributed to the entertainment.
About 11 o.c. we started the rosary as usual, and immediately 4 distinct groups were reciting the prayers with as much reverence as in a church. I wonder was ever a rosary said on “The Tiger” before. On our way up the channel we passed pretty close to the silent sentinels of the sea. We saw a torpedo boat, a destroyer, several of the craft called Trawlers. At one point they were so stationed as to be within sight of one another. I did not see much of the Clyde ship building or docks as I was crowded out from the portholes. But I believe the view up the Clyde is interesting.
The delay in getting to our dock was tedious. It was about 1.30 when we were ordered to get out and we were formed up 4 deep in a big covered in shed. A goods store probably. All the men on other side of [the] ship away from us were sent to Perth. Those as I mentioned were separated from us by the guards. I should have mentioned that sometime towards morning an officer with a revolver in his hand walked thro’ our section, counting us and looking to see that all was right.
A good many policemen & detectives as well as the military guard awaited us in Glasgow, and we had a good 5 miles to walk to Barlinnie. We were taken thro’ the principal streets of the city. We were all in bad humour. I am almost ashamed now of the rage that was in me, ready to boil up at any provocation. Luckily we were not greeted with any hostility by the people of Glasgow. The Scots looked at us with some curiosity and about 3 dozen decently conducted young men & girls walked the entire way to [the] barrack gates. I expect they were Irish by birth or sympathy.
Barlinnie is a very fine imposing range of buildings. 5 separate halls each capable of holding 200 prisoners.The military authorities have taken over 2 blocks for [the] duration of the war. We have the convicts, military prisoners, deserters, conscientious objectors & Sinn Fein sympathisers now enjoying the hospitable fare of the celebrated Barlinnie Prison.
Sunday, May 19
On Sunday morning May 19, we were to pack up our things in the haversack and be prepared for removal by 3.15 o.c. Some of our Company in J.2 were kept back. They were quiet lonely at parting. I saw tears in many eyes & I was sad to see two brothers parting. One came the other remained, tho’ they were not one of them tried, but were all deported later to some English prison. We had a few rousing songs when [the] hour was approaching. We wound up with “Ireland Over All”. Just before the order came with officer & escort & took us out to the barrack square and we were formed up there, our room heading the procession 4 deep at 3.30 p.m. We were served some biscuits & tea. The tea was cold & the biscuits hard as usual. But we did not bother. We had lots of dainties in parcels etc.
The day was pretty hot and whatever messing about the military people had, we were kept in the ranks for about 3 hours. One of our men, M. Daly, got quiet ill & had to lie down. I endeavoured to call “Young J. Bull’s” attention to his condition. But though I left the ranks & approached him, he waved me off & would not stand to hear what I had to say. However I managed to let him know that a man was in severe pain & he said he would send along a medical officer. A Red Cross first aid man came first but could do nothing to help. A doctor arrived in about 20 minutes. He was very attentive & sympathetic and soon had [the] patient removed in ambulance to M. Hospital.
At about 6.30 we started out surrounded by a strong escort. Crowds collected as we marched along by the quay and we got encouraging words & blessings from the people in the windows & on the sidewalks. We were put on board the Glasgow boat “The Tiger” at about half seven. 200 men herded together in the cattle, sheep & pig compartments.
We learned that the people belonging to this boat had only a few hours notification that we would be part of the ship’s cargo. Be that as it may be, the preparation for our reception & accommodation did not entail much labour on them. The loose planks & hoardings that usually separated the sheep & pigs from the cattle were thrown haphazard over the ship’s bottom & a sprinkling of sawdust over these completed the makeshift for our resting place. The place was badly lighted in some darkness but this would be a minor cause of complaint if we had tolerable seating or resting accommodation. If one walked about the moist filth oozed up between the planks. If you sat to rest you could not get a comfortable position & there was not sufficient room to lie down, suppose you disregarding the dirt wished to do so. The men were divided into 2 sections with armed guards between. When were counted and our names called out we were left to our own resources.
For refreshment we had a bucket of water. I expect the same bucket that thirsty cattle drank from, and we were edified by the most abominable jests of the soldiers who were continually passing up & down a passageway behind where we were and who were amusing themselves with a poor specimen of humanity who at some time or other may have been a woman. Luckily we had a fair supply of eatables which we distributed among our group & to any others nearby. We had also a lb. packet of tea, and by judicious tips got a Sergeant to pour boiling water on a portion of the tea. We gave him sufficient to make a gallon of tea. He brought us about a pint & a half, but it was hot and we enjoyed it. Only there were not many sips when it had to go the round of our lot.
Afterwards the people of this boat served out some kind of a decoction at tea mug, and asked for a thick slice of bread in addition. As most of the lads from Galway & many of the others too needed something in the early morning this tea Sergeant did a brisk trade. I heard that the amount realised by this extortionate sale to hungry men was three pounds 12/s. Luckily the night was beautifully fine and looking thro’ the portholes the sea was almost smooth & shone like silver in the moonlight. I was always joking our boys in room J2 about the grand sea trip we were to have at Government expense. But I did not bargain for this. Still though all were angry, especially after our improved conditions at Richmond for four preceding days. Still they bore up cheerfully. We had our usual concert. The Galwaymen on [the] other side joined in and gave us some very stirring songs. And all the groups contributed to the entertainment.
About 11 o.c. we started the rosary as usual, and immediately 4 distinct groups were reciting the prayers with as much reverence as in a church. I wonder was ever a rosary said on “The Tiger” before. On our way up the channel we passed pretty close to the silent sentinels of the sea. We saw a torpedo boat, a destroyer, several of the craft called Trawlers. At one point they were so stationed as to be within sight of one another. I did not see much of the Clyde ship building or docks as I was crowded out from the portholes. But I believe the view up the Clyde is interesting.
The delay in getting to our dock was tedious. It was about 1.30 when we were ordered to get out and we were formed up 4 deep in a big covered in shed. A goods store probably. All the men on other side of [the] ship away from us were sent to Perth. Those as I mentioned were separated from us by the guards. I should have mentioned that sometime towards morning an officer with a revolver in his hand walked thro’ our section, counting us and looking to see that all was right.
A good many policemen & detectives as well as the military guard awaited us in Glasgow, and we had a good 5 miles to walk to Barlinnie. We were taken thro’ the principal streets of the city. We were all in bad humour. I am almost ashamed now of the rage that was in me, ready to boil up at any provocation. Luckily we were not greeted with any hostility by the people of Glasgow. The Scots looked at us with some curiosity and about 3 dozen decently conducted young men & girls walked the entire way to [the] barrack gates. I expect they were Irish by birth or sympathy.
Barlinnie is a very fine imposing range of buildings. 5 separate halls each capable of holding 200 prisoners.The military authorities have taken over 2 blocks for [the] duration of the war. We have the convicts, military prisoners, deserters, conscientious objectors & Sinn Fein sympathisers now enjoying the hospitable fare of the celebrated Barlinnie Prison.
Treatment in Barlinnie Barracks
May 20th – June, 1916
When we were safely inside our prison building we were divided into lots of 20 to 24 men. We Tipp men kept together & were sent to Section 16.D. I became prisoner 116C, Room 24, Sect. 16. Sergt. in charge, P. Doyle. We were immediately shown to our cells. All our effects taken from us. Some beef, jam, tea, butter, cheese, three large tins fish, besides fruit & sandwiches, the joint property of men from Room J.2. was taken from me. As well as all tobacco, pipes, money; in fact everything except our letters. I managed to hide a stump of pencil by pushing it into a crack in underneath part of little shelf that served as a table in the cell. I held it there with a piece of soap, and though cells were afterwards thoroughly searched while we were out this was not found. We were fortunate in the Section Sergt. warder allotted to us. Doyle was strict enough, but never harsh. He was from the first quite civil, treated us as human beings, like the decent manly fellow he is. Other sections were not s fortunate, and even now as I write and we are here a fortnight, one or two of the warder Sergts. are as harsh and disagreeable to the men on their charge as they well can be.
We got dinner in half an hour or so. A black tea bowl shaped vessel held ½ pint of soup with some kind of meat in shreds. Boiled to rags it was. Not much meat, about 3 ozs. About 8 ozs. of bread of poor quality & 2 potatoes, & these were not bursting through their jackets. The bread & potatoes were contained in a smaller bowl which fitted into the first as a cover. We were given each a spoon, but no knife or fork. Though I got both knife & fork a few days later through kindness of Sergt. Doyle and a Staff Sergt. whose friendship I managed to gain also. Immediately after dinner I went to bed tired out. I had no mattress, but as pretty well used to this. I was awakened at suppertime but as I was in bed no supper was left in for me. For [the] next four nights I had to sleep on the plank bed, but had plenty bedclothes. After that time every man had mattress.
At 5.30 on Sunday morning, bells were ringing all over house & up we had to get, make up our beds as in jail only arrangement of bedclothes was somewhat different. We had to wash out our cell, scrub the wooden parts, the shelf, table & seat, polish & clean covers of utensils using bath brick & soap. When floor of cell was dried it had to be polished. Floors were generally of hard concrete and like black marble. This was rubbed over with a piece of common soap & polished with a sort of brush made by the convicts from pieces of rope ends. When well done, using plenty elbow grease the floor shone like a mirror, and by being a little careful, it kept clean & bright for a couple of days.
Sergt. Doyle gave me instructions how best to do this work. I was to sweep floor thoroughly first, then go over it with a damp cloth. Using only clean water, when floor was quite dry rub on the soap & polish as I have mentioned. We had a different brush for scrubbing the wooden parts & the Sergt. saw to it that nothing was glossed over carelessly. Because there was inspection daily by the Quartermaster Sergt. of the Command Hut & if any cell was faulty, the Section Sergt. got into trouble.
We had breakfast at 7 o.c. ¾ pint of abominable tea usually cold, served in same vessel as dinner, and 8 oz. of bread divided into 2 thick slices with a drop of margarine in centre. This was our invariable morning & evening allowance. Dinner I have already described & it never varied except of Fridays. On the first Friday we got a very extraordinary concoction. (I found afterwards it was the water fish was boiled in made into soup with pea flour.) I thought it was the water in which some putrid fish had been washed & bashed about, boiled & thickened with some sort of flour. 2 potatoes & 8 ozs. of bread & a mug of water were served with this. As not one of the prisoners partook of this delectable fare, we afterwards on the Fridays got 2 small fish like whiting, smaller than herrings, with potatoes & bread as above. This has been diet given to us every day since we came here. On one day the meat for dinner was so bad that nobody could eat or taste the soup & a complaint was sent in to the Commandant. We got no bad meat or soup afterwards but if this is the diet allowed to prisoners of war I pity then. They won’t get fat & will be in no great form for fighting after a few months such fare.
Our first Sunday in Barlinnie was a very dismal day. No Mass, tho’ the Chaplain celebrated 2 masses for other prisoners, military & civil. Hurried exercise for less than half-an-hour, then back to our cells and locked up. After dinner we were taken six at a time to medical officer’s quarters for examination. Each man had to strip off clothes, boots, stockings & the examination was very expeditious. ½ minute examine chest & heart, look for varicose veins, ask a few questions & it was over. It appeared ridiculous after all the preparation we had to make how quickly M. Officer for rid of us. He asked me what I was & what charge was against me. When I told him I did not know he said I expect you are in sympathy with the Sínn Fein movement. I said probably that is the crime alleged against most of the men deported.
We got dinner in half an hour or so. A black tea bowl shaped vessel held ½ pint of soup with some kind of meat in shreds. Boiled to rags it was. Not much meat, about 3 ozs. About 8 ozs. of bread of poor quality & 2 potatoes, & these were not bursting through their jackets. The bread & potatoes were contained in a smaller bowl which fitted into the first as a cover. We were given each a spoon, but no knife or fork. Though I got both knife & fork a few days later through kindness of Sergt. Doyle and a Staff Sergt. whose friendship I managed to gain also. Immediately after dinner I went to bed tired out. I had no mattress, but as pretty well used to this. I was awakened at suppertime but as I was in bed no supper was left in for me. For [the] next four nights I had to sleep on the plank bed, but had plenty bedclothes. After that time every man had mattress.
At 5.30 on Sunday morning, bells were ringing all over house & up we had to get, make up our beds as in jail only arrangement of bedclothes was somewhat different. We had to wash out our cell, scrub the wooden parts, the shelf, table & seat, polish & clean covers of utensils using bath brick & soap. When floor of cell was dried it had to be polished. Floors were generally of hard concrete and like black marble. This was rubbed over with a piece of common soap & polished with a sort of brush made by the convicts from pieces of rope ends. When well done, using plenty elbow grease the floor shone like a mirror, and by being a little careful, it kept clean & bright for a couple of days.
Sergt. Doyle gave me instructions how best to do this work. I was to sweep floor thoroughly first, then go over it with a damp cloth. Using only clean water, when floor was quite dry rub on the soap & polish as I have mentioned. We had a different brush for scrubbing the wooden parts & the Sergt. saw to it that nothing was glossed over carelessly. Because there was inspection daily by the Quartermaster Sergt. of the Command Hut & if any cell was faulty, the Section Sergt. got into trouble.
We had breakfast at 7 o.c. ¾ pint of abominable tea usually cold, served in same vessel as dinner, and 8 oz. of bread divided into 2 thick slices with a drop of margarine in centre. This was our invariable morning & evening allowance. Dinner I have already described & it never varied except of Fridays. On the first Friday we got a very extraordinary concoction. (I found afterwards it was the water fish was boiled in made into soup with pea flour.) I thought it was the water in which some putrid fish had been washed & bashed about, boiled & thickened with some sort of flour. 2 potatoes & 8 ozs. of bread & a mug of water were served with this. As not one of the prisoners partook of this delectable fare, we afterwards on the Fridays got 2 small fish like whiting, smaller than herrings, with potatoes & bread as above. This has been diet given to us every day since we came here. On one day the meat for dinner was so bad that nobody could eat or taste the soup & a complaint was sent in to the Commandant. We got no bad meat or soup afterwards but if this is the diet allowed to prisoners of war I pity then. They won’t get fat & will be in no great form for fighting after a few months such fare.
Our first Sunday in Barlinnie was a very dismal day. No Mass, tho’ the Chaplain celebrated 2 masses for other prisoners, military & civil. Hurried exercise for less than half-an-hour, then back to our cells and locked up. After dinner we were taken six at a time to medical officer’s quarters for examination. Each man had to strip off clothes, boots, stockings & the examination was very expeditious. ½ minute examine chest & heart, look for varicose veins, ask a few questions & it was over. It appeared ridiculous after all the preparation we had to make how quickly M. Officer for rid of us. He asked me what I was & what charge was against me. When I told him I did not know he said I expect you are in sympathy with the Sínn Fein movement. I said probably that is the crime alleged against most of the men deported.
Monday morning and henceforward every morning except Sunday, all bedclothes are hung out on the railing of veranda which extends entire length of building after 60 yards. In each block of prison buildings are four distinct sets of prison cells in tiers directly over one another. The centre of building being empty except for spiral staircase in the middle. The cells open on to a passageway or veranda about 3 feet wide with the railings 5 feet high. Having hung out blankets we were now thoroughly initiated into the business of keeping our little house in proper order.After the manner I have already described.
Next we were taken out for a bath, a section at a time & when in bath our clothes were left outside & a very careful search was made. Many of the boys had a few cigarettes & other items concealed. Now all were confiscated. Some of the booty I noticed included postage stamps, pencils, penknives, matches, cigarettes, tobacco. Any prisoner who had concealed such articles was sternly reprimanded. I got a hint that this search was to come so was careful not to have any contraband in my pockets. Our cell was thoroughly overhauled at same time.
We got an hours exercise after breakfast. Very strict discipline, marched in double file, no talking allowed & during exercise had to keep five paces apart. A warder stood on a raised platform overlooking exercise ground. And 3 others were posted one each of other sides. So we were under close observation. When brought in we were served out each one envelope & a sheet of notepaper & told we could write a letter. Not to close the envelope & were directed to put our prison number on the envelope outside as well as before the address on outside. Our Sergt. lent us a stump of a pencil & collected it again with our letters in half-an-hour’s time.
I managed this early to get into the good graces of our Sergt. He was half-Irish, had fought all through the war from Mons to Hallock, and was very badly wounded at latter place. Has several pieces of shrapnel in different parts of his body which can not be extracted. A Scottish Fusiller, he fought alongside the Munster’s, the Dublin’s & the Connaught Rangers. He says the Irish & the Scotch are the fighters in the British Army. He has a profound contempt for most of the English regiments. “Their officers funk & then the men funk & no wonder”. Those are his words.
He asked me if I would like a little employment so as not to be locked up all day long & I was glad to get out. I cleaned up his storeroom, made it tidy, polished the railings of veranda, dusted the cell doors & dodged about for a couple of hours. In those days anyone who got a job whether it was washing & scrubbing the stairs or passageway or carrying around the meals on large wooden trays & afterwards collecting the empty tins, considered he was a privileged prisoner. So dreary is the long solitary confinement in a cell 15 x 6 with a small window placed so high that you can’t look out & if you do manage to climb up to it the panes are ribbed & you get a jumbled & distorted view of the outside surroundings. Tuesday passed as Monday, monotonous and dreary.
On Wednesday we were paraded before the Commandant. He is a tall spare man about 38 or 40 years old, with a cold sour face. He wore a raincoat buttoned to his chin & stalked alone as if he was counting the number of paces from one point to another. He addressed us in a very chill superior fashion, told us the regulations about letter writing : that any prisoner needing change of socks, shirts or underclothing should apply to his Section Sergt. and told us that a further document would be served out to all who wished to have their cases speedily gone into by the military authorities in Dublin. I had already filled up such a document before leaving Dublin & so had most of those deported, but in order to get out I asked for one of those forms and so did five or six of our section. When we had filled up this declaration with the answers requested we were taken out under guard to Commandant’s office.
Marching in single file five paces apart when we came near to the building where the great one held court we were ordered “march by the right, right turn” & we found ourselves facing a high blank wall. We stood within 3 feet of the wall, with our backs to the office & 2 sergeants & 3 corporals on guard behind us to prevent us talking & to insist that we looked to our front. It was a ridiculous situation, I was shaking with laughter, and especially when I got a look at the face of impotent rage, the fierce glare of a prisoner near me since liberated. He was one of the victimised innocents.
We were for all the world like sheep or calves at a fair, ranged up near a wall with our keepers behind us. Only the sheep & calves need not be orderly & silent as we should be.We were called to the interviews singly and it was puzzling and laughable the attempts the Sergeant Major made at pronouncing some of our names.
When my turn came I was ordered to put my hat on the ground outside office door, and was shown into the small room where sat the Commandant at a desk table. He had my declaration form in front of him, and without raising his head to look at me said “You are directed in this form to write your name in full what does J stand for”. I told him, he read on, wrote over some indistinct parts with ink, asked “is that your signature”, signed his own name as witnessing my declaration, and intimated that he would have it forwarded to proper authority. I said “thank you” but he ignored me. So awestruck I meekly backed out of “the presence”.
When we had all got this interview over us a corporal who was very aggressive in his manner, noticing the temper my friend already mentioned was in, walked up to him and in order of course to put him into better humour, peered into his face saying “Are ye long like that”. The corporal would be glad if prisoner retorted, then it would be bread & water & no exercise for 48 hours – but my friend luckily remembered our resolve to grin & bear with every insult and indignity, and never give our enemy the satisfaction of knowing he was able to hurt us. We hoped we might have another day for satisfaction and we could wait.
On Thursday I got a mattress, so my bunk was more comfortable. We were told we could see visitors daily between 10 & 12.00 a.m. Also that some restrictions were removed. We could smoke while at exercise & in our own cells, but must not go into any other prisoners cell & must not smoke on parade or on the veranda. We could also get in food, newspapers etc. but must not ask any of the military, our section Sergts. or the corporal to bring us anything – they were also strictly charged not to bring any newspapers, matches, cigarettes or tobacco into prison. But they did not obey this harsh command in the cases of a few of us at any rate.
Well we had no visitors, we had no letters, nobody who cared could know where we were, the letters we wrote on Monday were we knew still in the Commandant’s office unposted. We were supposed to get back all the articles taken from us the evening of our arrival, but we didn’t, simply because they weren’t to be had, had been pilfered. I was luckier than many. I got back my pipe and about one fourth of the tobacco taken from me. No matches – but Sergt. Doyle gave me a few & brought me a few boxes next day. But the foodstuffs, butter, cheese, meat, fish etc. was gone. I complained & so did the other victims. We were promised that there would be an investigation, & it ended at that. As far as we were concerned we were overwhelmed with creature comforts on a few days after when our friends found out our whereabouts. So we were willing to forgive whoever it was that made free with our confiscated property.
Next we were taken out for a bath, a section at a time & when in bath our clothes were left outside & a very careful search was made. Many of the boys had a few cigarettes & other items concealed. Now all were confiscated. Some of the booty I noticed included postage stamps, pencils, penknives, matches, cigarettes, tobacco. Any prisoner who had concealed such articles was sternly reprimanded. I got a hint that this search was to come so was careful not to have any contraband in my pockets. Our cell was thoroughly overhauled at same time.
We got an hours exercise after breakfast. Very strict discipline, marched in double file, no talking allowed & during exercise had to keep five paces apart. A warder stood on a raised platform overlooking exercise ground. And 3 others were posted one each of other sides. So we were under close observation. When brought in we were served out each one envelope & a sheet of notepaper & told we could write a letter. Not to close the envelope & were directed to put our prison number on the envelope outside as well as before the address on outside. Our Sergt. lent us a stump of a pencil & collected it again with our letters in half-an-hour’s time.
I managed this early to get into the good graces of our Sergt. He was half-Irish, had fought all through the war from Mons to Hallock, and was very badly wounded at latter place. Has several pieces of shrapnel in different parts of his body which can not be extracted. A Scottish Fusiller, he fought alongside the Munster’s, the Dublin’s & the Connaught Rangers. He says the Irish & the Scotch are the fighters in the British Army. He has a profound contempt for most of the English regiments. “Their officers funk & then the men funk & no wonder”. Those are his words.
He asked me if I would like a little employment so as not to be locked up all day long & I was glad to get out. I cleaned up his storeroom, made it tidy, polished the railings of veranda, dusted the cell doors & dodged about for a couple of hours. In those days anyone who got a job whether it was washing & scrubbing the stairs or passageway or carrying around the meals on large wooden trays & afterwards collecting the empty tins, considered he was a privileged prisoner. So dreary is the long solitary confinement in a cell 15 x 6 with a small window placed so high that you can’t look out & if you do manage to climb up to it the panes are ribbed & you get a jumbled & distorted view of the outside surroundings. Tuesday passed as Monday, monotonous and dreary.
On Wednesday we were paraded before the Commandant. He is a tall spare man about 38 or 40 years old, with a cold sour face. He wore a raincoat buttoned to his chin & stalked alone as if he was counting the number of paces from one point to another. He addressed us in a very chill superior fashion, told us the regulations about letter writing : that any prisoner needing change of socks, shirts or underclothing should apply to his Section Sergt. and told us that a further document would be served out to all who wished to have their cases speedily gone into by the military authorities in Dublin. I had already filled up such a document before leaving Dublin & so had most of those deported, but in order to get out I asked for one of those forms and so did five or six of our section. When we had filled up this declaration with the answers requested we were taken out under guard to Commandant’s office.
Marching in single file five paces apart when we came near to the building where the great one held court we were ordered “march by the right, right turn” & we found ourselves facing a high blank wall. We stood within 3 feet of the wall, with our backs to the office & 2 sergeants & 3 corporals on guard behind us to prevent us talking & to insist that we looked to our front. It was a ridiculous situation, I was shaking with laughter, and especially when I got a look at the face of impotent rage, the fierce glare of a prisoner near me since liberated. He was one of the victimised innocents.
We were for all the world like sheep or calves at a fair, ranged up near a wall with our keepers behind us. Only the sheep & calves need not be orderly & silent as we should be.We were called to the interviews singly and it was puzzling and laughable the attempts the Sergeant Major made at pronouncing some of our names.
When my turn came I was ordered to put my hat on the ground outside office door, and was shown into the small room where sat the Commandant at a desk table. He had my declaration form in front of him, and without raising his head to look at me said “You are directed in this form to write your name in full what does J stand for”. I told him, he read on, wrote over some indistinct parts with ink, asked “is that your signature”, signed his own name as witnessing my declaration, and intimated that he would have it forwarded to proper authority. I said “thank you” but he ignored me. So awestruck I meekly backed out of “the presence”.
When we had all got this interview over us a corporal who was very aggressive in his manner, noticing the temper my friend already mentioned was in, walked up to him and in order of course to put him into better humour, peered into his face saying “Are ye long like that”. The corporal would be glad if prisoner retorted, then it would be bread & water & no exercise for 48 hours – but my friend luckily remembered our resolve to grin & bear with every insult and indignity, and never give our enemy the satisfaction of knowing he was able to hurt us. We hoped we might have another day for satisfaction and we could wait.
On Thursday I got a mattress, so my bunk was more comfortable. We were told we could see visitors daily between 10 & 12.00 a.m. Also that some restrictions were removed. We could smoke while at exercise & in our own cells, but must not go into any other prisoners cell & must not smoke on parade or on the veranda. We could also get in food, newspapers etc. but must not ask any of the military, our section Sergts. or the corporal to bring us anything – they were also strictly charged not to bring any newspapers, matches, cigarettes or tobacco into prison. But they did not obey this harsh command in the cases of a few of us at any rate.
Well we had no visitors, we had no letters, nobody who cared could know where we were, the letters we wrote on Monday were we knew still in the Commandant’s office unposted. We were supposed to get back all the articles taken from us the evening of our arrival, but we didn’t, simply because they weren’t to be had, had been pilfered. I was luckier than many. I got back my pipe and about one fourth of the tobacco taken from me. No matches – but Sergt. Doyle gave me a few & brought me a few boxes next day. But the foodstuffs, butter, cheese, meat, fish etc. was gone. I complained & so did the other victims. We were promised that there would be an investigation, & it ended at that. As far as we were concerned we were overwhelmed with creature comforts on a few days after when our friends found out our whereabouts. So we were willing to forgive whoever it was that made free with our confiscated property.
Thursday, May 25
On this Thursday the restriction as to talking to one another was relaxed. We could now exchange a word or two but could not walk together in groups of 3 or 4. All the soldiers and officers who had anything to do with us became more friendly, and were quite willing to drop in to our cells to smoke a cigarette to take a little of our tobacco etc. They were not allowed to smoke while on duty in the prison & could not bring in any tobacco with them. So they benefited by relaxation of the harsh orders sent from War Office for our treatment during first week’s detention.
Friday, May 26
On Friday May 26 we were at exercise and enjoying slight relaxation of the prisons harsh regime when we were called to attention. And a Lieut. General from the War Office addressed us. He told us that he was sent from the War Office to hear our complaints if we had any to make. Not to complain to him about being detained as prisoners. Our right to liberation or detention was being investigated by military authorities in Dublin. But if we had any other complaints, hold up hands. A few dozen of us did so & he said he would interview us in a few minutes. He then went on to say that we were to be treated as Prisoners of War. That we could make use of what money we had when taken prisoner & purchase food, tobacco, other comforts. But we could not get money into our own possession, neither could we get our matches or jewellery. As city is 5 miles away & we as yet know nobody this was simply ridiculous. We could not ask a Sergt. to bring anything & those who asked thro’ Commandant to have some trifles sent in to them did not get articles ordered for 4 days & by this time we had all we could wish for & more because the generous friends in Glasgow had found us. No thanks to either the Commandant or War Office either.
The principal complaint, almost universally made to the War Office General was “bad quality of food”. The tea was abominable stuff. The bread was very poor quality & either or both together made stomach ache. I had a heartburn & very uncomfortable feeling all this first week. The dinner improved in quantity but was never much meat & it was usually in shreds like torn pieces of old sacks. The soup was occasionally good but frequently cold & once or twice rancid. Tea, if it was teat at all was usually quite cold. When hot it was at least drinkable because of its being a hot drink. The potatoes were of mixed quality one pretty good, the other pretty bad. If one were in luck both might be edible. If this is the diet of Prisoners of War, then God help them. They won’t be in much form for fighting after a few months of this fare.
I complained to the General that I was for 4 nights without a bed. Commandant explained shortage of mattress’ & that I had one now. Also complained of articles food etc. taken from me and not returned & money held in Dublin not sent on for my use in Barlinnie tho’ I had written for it. General turned me over to the Commandant saying my grievance’s immediate attention. Slightly little attention any of the complaints received. Next day we were told that Gen. [illegible] saw food and approved of it. Talking on exercise was again prohibited. And all the difference his visit made was that from that day onward we had a guard of about 25 soldier prisoners who marched in double file with the prisoners in centre to & from exercise ground & who paraded as sentries on all sides & at entrance gate while we walked about. The Sergeants described these as mostly deserters & shirkers and scum of the earth. They were continually asking for tobacco, fags etc. and in spite of repeated warnings our fellows were too good natured to refuse giving them things. Tho’ we were threatened to have our own privileges taken from us if we persisted in throwing those things in their way.
Saturday, May 27
On Saturday Mr. L.J. Dalton & 4 or 5 others were released and I had my first visitor, Fr. Doyle O.F.M. He was indeed very kind and sympathetic. Sent me a small cargo of eatables. Meat, fruit, cake, biscuits, besides tobacco & cigarettes. My dear friend Fr. Kane sent me loads of fruit & all kinds of eatables & I was happily able to provide a decent addition to the menu of our division.
After this we had visitors every day and they were so generous that we were fairly overwhelmed with the big debt of gratitude we were piling up. It was useless to remonstrate or to say we had enough. Presents came on in parcels, in boxes, in paper bags with [illegible] carrying strings day after day. We owe ever so much to the thoughtful generosity of Fathers Ryan, Hourigan, Doyle, O’Connor & Sullivan. Not only for good things to eat but for luxurious living. Cigars, [illegible] bananas, pears, apples. Confectionery of all kinds.
While our lady friends Miss Kane, Miss Hourigan, must have spent a considerable portion of their dot. in providing us with dainties & sweeties, besides useful & substantial articles. Nice fried steaks, between two plates & salt in a castor. Dozens of fresh ham & butter sandwiches, tea cakes, lunch cakes, chocolate, fruit drink powders, hard boiled eggs, raisins & almonds, figs, dates & every possible variety of toothsome foodstuff were poured in upon me day after day. If I had to use the things myself I would have rations for 6 months. But very few of our fellows were as yet in touch with their friends & I was a Godsend to them. Soon tho’ the Glasgow Irish, the Gaelic Association & other kindly ladies & gentlemen took it on themselves to provide comforts for the exiles and by the end of 2nd. week nobody in Barlinnie was short of any reasonable thing. Some of us as I have hinted had many luxuries we would not dream of indulging in if in our own home. I hope I will always remember of the great warm hearted hospitality of the Glasgow Irish.
I don’t mean so much our relations & friends who after all were only as generous as we knew they would be, but the people to whom we were strangers. To whose hearts our only claim was that we were Irish. That we were exiles from the old Country because as they were informed by the Irish Nationalist Press we were rash and had done much to injure the cause of Irish Nationality. Did they believe this rubbish, not they. Nobody in Ireland or out of it with a grain of common sense believes anything our Irish newspapers or politicians want them to believe. And this distortion of the truth, and downright lying is not confined to Irish newspapers, and Irish public men.
On this Thursday the restriction as to talking to one another was relaxed. We could now exchange a word or two but could not walk together in groups of 3 or 4. All the soldiers and officers who had anything to do with us became more friendly, and were quite willing to drop in to our cells to smoke a cigarette to take a little of our tobacco etc. They were not allowed to smoke while on duty in the prison & could not bring in any tobacco with them. So they benefited by relaxation of the harsh orders sent from War Office for our treatment during first week’s detention.
Friday, May 26
On Friday May 26 we were at exercise and enjoying slight relaxation of the prisons harsh regime when we were called to attention. And a Lieut. General from the War Office addressed us. He told us that he was sent from the War Office to hear our complaints if we had any to make. Not to complain to him about being detained as prisoners. Our right to liberation or detention was being investigated by military authorities in Dublin. But if we had any other complaints, hold up hands. A few dozen of us did so & he said he would interview us in a few minutes. He then went on to say that we were to be treated as Prisoners of War. That we could make use of what money we had when taken prisoner & purchase food, tobacco, other comforts. But we could not get money into our own possession, neither could we get our matches or jewellery. As city is 5 miles away & we as yet know nobody this was simply ridiculous. We could not ask a Sergt. to bring anything & those who asked thro’ Commandant to have some trifles sent in to them did not get articles ordered for 4 days & by this time we had all we could wish for & more because the generous friends in Glasgow had found us. No thanks to either the Commandant or War Office either.
The principal complaint, almost universally made to the War Office General was “bad quality of food”. The tea was abominable stuff. The bread was very poor quality & either or both together made stomach ache. I had a heartburn & very uncomfortable feeling all this first week. The dinner improved in quantity but was never much meat & it was usually in shreds like torn pieces of old sacks. The soup was occasionally good but frequently cold & once or twice rancid. Tea, if it was teat at all was usually quite cold. When hot it was at least drinkable because of its being a hot drink. The potatoes were of mixed quality one pretty good, the other pretty bad. If one were in luck both might be edible. If this is the diet of Prisoners of War, then God help them. They won’t be in much form for fighting after a few months of this fare.
I complained to the General that I was for 4 nights without a bed. Commandant explained shortage of mattress’ & that I had one now. Also complained of articles food etc. taken from me and not returned & money held in Dublin not sent on for my use in Barlinnie tho’ I had written for it. General turned me over to the Commandant saying my grievance’s immediate attention. Slightly little attention any of the complaints received. Next day we were told that Gen. [illegible] saw food and approved of it. Talking on exercise was again prohibited. And all the difference his visit made was that from that day onward we had a guard of about 25 soldier prisoners who marched in double file with the prisoners in centre to & from exercise ground & who paraded as sentries on all sides & at entrance gate while we walked about. The Sergeants described these as mostly deserters & shirkers and scum of the earth. They were continually asking for tobacco, fags etc. and in spite of repeated warnings our fellows were too good natured to refuse giving them things. Tho’ we were threatened to have our own privileges taken from us if we persisted in throwing those things in their way.
Saturday, May 27
On Saturday Mr. L.J. Dalton & 4 or 5 others were released and I had my first visitor, Fr. Doyle O.F.M. He was indeed very kind and sympathetic. Sent me a small cargo of eatables. Meat, fruit, cake, biscuits, besides tobacco & cigarettes. My dear friend Fr. Kane sent me loads of fruit & all kinds of eatables & I was happily able to provide a decent addition to the menu of our division.
After this we had visitors every day and they were so generous that we were fairly overwhelmed with the big debt of gratitude we were piling up. It was useless to remonstrate or to say we had enough. Presents came on in parcels, in boxes, in paper bags with [illegible] carrying strings day after day. We owe ever so much to the thoughtful generosity of Fathers Ryan, Hourigan, Doyle, O’Connor & Sullivan. Not only for good things to eat but for luxurious living. Cigars, [illegible] bananas, pears, apples. Confectionery of all kinds.
While our lady friends Miss Kane, Miss Hourigan, must have spent a considerable portion of their dot. in providing us with dainties & sweeties, besides useful & substantial articles. Nice fried steaks, between two plates & salt in a castor. Dozens of fresh ham & butter sandwiches, tea cakes, lunch cakes, chocolate, fruit drink powders, hard boiled eggs, raisins & almonds, figs, dates & every possible variety of toothsome foodstuff were poured in upon me day after day. If I had to use the things myself I would have rations for 6 months. But very few of our fellows were as yet in touch with their friends & I was a Godsend to them. Soon tho’ the Glasgow Irish, the Gaelic Association & other kindly ladies & gentlemen took it on themselves to provide comforts for the exiles and by the end of 2nd. week nobody in Barlinnie was short of any reasonable thing. Some of us as I have hinted had many luxuries we would not dream of indulging in if in our own home. I hope I will always remember of the great warm hearted hospitality of the Glasgow Irish.
I don’t mean so much our relations & friends who after all were only as generous as we knew they would be, but the people to whom we were strangers. To whose hearts our only claim was that we were Irish. That we were exiles from the old Country because as they were informed by the Irish Nationalist Press we were rash and had done much to injure the cause of Irish Nationality. Did they believe this rubbish, not they. Nobody in Ireland or out of it with a grain of common sense believes anything our Irish newspapers or politicians want them to believe. And this distortion of the truth, and downright lying is not confined to Irish newspapers, and Irish public men.
I read an account of the questions asked in the House of Commons relative to Irish prisoners & Irish affairs in some of the newspapers. The questions of Mr. Ginnell, Byrne, O’Brien, Healy, were altogether omitted or slurred over. But reading the answers given by Mr. Tennant, by Mr. Asquith & other ministers I was astonished, even though I expected it was so at the prevarications, the evasion of truth & the false statements made in almost every ministerial answer. I saw it denied that our finger marks were taken, whereas I knew it to be true. I saw it denied that people were imprisoned in Richmond who were in custody for ordinary breaches of the law, drunkeness, quarrelling etc. I knew this to be true. I saw the evasions relative to our treatment & that we were treated as prisoners of war. Whereas at the very time we were getting the treatment of convicted criminals. I read the evasive & untrue answers to questions relative to murders committed by military in Dublin. Even the military Courts Martial were unable to cloak the devil’s work that the savage soldiery carried out in Dublin. But the fat salaried English ministers were able to evade answering awkward questions.
And when at length things threatened to become too hot for them, and a debate that might enlighten neutral opinion & make even more hostile Irish & American opinion was inevitable. The wily Asquith humbugged the tame Irish Party once again. “Say nothing boys, we’re going to bottle it all. Versatile Welshman Lloyd George will fix up this exasperating Irish question. But for Ireland’s sake & for the Empire’s sake & for all our sakes, let no one say a word that will be likely to further embitter things & he had his way as usual. The Irish members simmered down, parliament dissolved, Lloyd George made a bigger mess that ever of the Irish question, but Asquith as usual had gained his point. The neutrals & the Irish had to wait & see & he expects to be able to humbug them again next time. ‘Tis quite easy, he has always found it so. Perhaps he will sometime find that straight honest square dealing with Irish nationalist rightful claims would have been much the better policy, even from his Imperial point of view. He will assuredly find that even he, consummate diplomat as he is, “Cannot humbug all the people all the time”.
I have written above after reading Lloyd George’s proposals. So certain am I that the Irish people will reject them with scorn. Because I have sufficient confidence in the intelligence & patriotism of the vast majority of Irishmen, even though I differ from the actions & views of many of them in recent times, to feel sure that they never will consent to any scheme of exclusion. No matter how the pill is gilded, no matter how supported by party or the wire pullers. The basis of settlement proposals is abhorrent to all genuine believers in “Ireland a nation” even in the revised meaning of this expression – to all patriotic Irishmen as I know them Ireland is one and indivisible.
God help the leader who will try to run Lloyd George’s scheme through & his day as a leader of Irish opinion will be over. I do hope that some of our back boneless M.P’s will try it. The country will then give them their answer, and with it some little stiffening may be driven into their political frames. Better they left “the floor of the House” altogether. Such a protest might open the eyes of neutral people to England’s treatment of one small nationality whose vitals she has clutched in her grip for centuries & England might be frightened into doing some act of reparation. It is evident she can’t be coaxed or shamed into doing justice to Ireland’s claims.
Let me get on with life in Barlinnie. To mention by name all the people who visited us & sent us presents would be a task beyond me. But I must at least mention a few more & first comes my big-hearted Connolly, he called on Monday. He was visibly affected when he saw me in through the heavy iron bars. But as I was smiling & in evident good spirits he brightened up. He wanted to give me there & then his pipe tobacco, matches, money any amount I would take, his overcoat, what could he send into us. He was quiet disappointed when I would not let him buy half Glasgow provisions for us. A little judicious tip to escort who is always present at these interviews & I got just what I did want. Other bigger things he sent from the city & now I knew that I & my section would want no more, we had found our friends. Dan & his dear wife sent me as much eatables as would victual a military camp. I knew him always to be the big generous hearted man he is. He did not disappoint me – I will not say more here – perhaps I said what I should say by way of thankful gratitude to one who will assuredly repay.
I was called to interview three Glasgow magnates. City councillors they were. And I had a hurried & rather unsatisfactory interview with 2 reporters for “The Glasgow Observer”. We had only 6 minutes for our chat, and five other people wanted a chat with me at the same time. However I was in good talking form & the reporters managed to work up a readable little article on our treatment and general condition. In fact they scarce missed a word I said & made very few mistakes in their account of our daily routine & treatment. Day after day I as well as pretty nearly all the others have five or six visitors & this has helped to break the monotony of our detention here.
And when at length things threatened to become too hot for them, and a debate that might enlighten neutral opinion & make even more hostile Irish & American opinion was inevitable. The wily Asquith humbugged the tame Irish Party once again. “Say nothing boys, we’re going to bottle it all. Versatile Welshman Lloyd George will fix up this exasperating Irish question. But for Ireland’s sake & for the Empire’s sake & for all our sakes, let no one say a word that will be likely to further embitter things & he had his way as usual. The Irish members simmered down, parliament dissolved, Lloyd George made a bigger mess that ever of the Irish question, but Asquith as usual had gained his point. The neutrals & the Irish had to wait & see & he expects to be able to humbug them again next time. ‘Tis quite easy, he has always found it so. Perhaps he will sometime find that straight honest square dealing with Irish nationalist rightful claims would have been much the better policy, even from his Imperial point of view. He will assuredly find that even he, consummate diplomat as he is, “Cannot humbug all the people all the time”.
I have written above after reading Lloyd George’s proposals. So certain am I that the Irish people will reject them with scorn. Because I have sufficient confidence in the intelligence & patriotism of the vast majority of Irishmen, even though I differ from the actions & views of many of them in recent times, to feel sure that they never will consent to any scheme of exclusion. No matter how the pill is gilded, no matter how supported by party or the wire pullers. The basis of settlement proposals is abhorrent to all genuine believers in “Ireland a nation” even in the revised meaning of this expression – to all patriotic Irishmen as I know them Ireland is one and indivisible.
God help the leader who will try to run Lloyd George’s scheme through & his day as a leader of Irish opinion will be over. I do hope that some of our back boneless M.P’s will try it. The country will then give them their answer, and with it some little stiffening may be driven into their political frames. Better they left “the floor of the House” altogether. Such a protest might open the eyes of neutral people to England’s treatment of one small nationality whose vitals she has clutched in her grip for centuries & England might be frightened into doing some act of reparation. It is evident she can’t be coaxed or shamed into doing justice to Ireland’s claims.
Let me get on with life in Barlinnie. To mention by name all the people who visited us & sent us presents would be a task beyond me. But I must at least mention a few more & first comes my big-hearted Connolly, he called on Monday. He was visibly affected when he saw me in through the heavy iron bars. But as I was smiling & in evident good spirits he brightened up. He wanted to give me there & then his pipe tobacco, matches, money any amount I would take, his overcoat, what could he send into us. He was quiet disappointed when I would not let him buy half Glasgow provisions for us. A little judicious tip to escort who is always present at these interviews & I got just what I did want. Other bigger things he sent from the city & now I knew that I & my section would want no more, we had found our friends. Dan & his dear wife sent me as much eatables as would victual a military camp. I knew him always to be the big generous hearted man he is. He did not disappoint me – I will not say more here – perhaps I said what I should say by way of thankful gratitude to one who will assuredly repay.
I was called to interview three Glasgow magnates. City councillors they were. And I had a hurried & rather unsatisfactory interview with 2 reporters for “The Glasgow Observer”. We had only 6 minutes for our chat, and five other people wanted a chat with me at the same time. However I was in good talking form & the reporters managed to work up a readable little article on our treatment and general condition. In fact they scarce missed a word I said & made very few mistakes in their account of our daily routine & treatment. Day after day I as well as pretty nearly all the others have five or six visitors & this has helped to break the monotony of our detention here.
Sunday is our dullest day. Very little outing. First Sunday 20 minutes, 2nd. ditto., 3rd. 1 hour, 4th. 1 ½ hours. Prison fare “scantier & worser” than other days, but this doesn’t now matter. Nobody depends on the “prisoners of war” allowance. The building where Chaplain celebrates Mass is not consecrated. The priest sprinkles it always before Mass commences. The bare walls, the convicts in front of us. The soldier prisoners screened away from them & us. The dull, monotonous sing song way the hymns are rendered made a peculiarly sad impression on me, but thank God our boys did some good here too. Twenty-five received Holy Communion the first Sunday, and thirty-five the next. The Chaplain who now chats quite freely with us says that the example shown by the Irish prisoners has done more good than his preaching & exertions have been able to do for the five years he is Chaplain here. He thinks our presence in Barlinnie has as good an effect as a mission would have.
He read out with much satisfaction the news of the great naval victory. The tremendous victory the press & public men, from Churchill – Balfour & Beresford downwards, turned it into was astonishing. How is it they didn’t explain that they were not able to pick up any German or English survivors when the battle was fought & won. It appears the cowardly Germans ran away & took the survivors of the sunken English warships with them. Another vile Hunnish trick.
We read with deep feelings, well you can guess whether we weren’t sorry, of K. of K’s visit to the Madhi, and the many victims of his warrior prowess. The Boer Concentration Camps, the natives of India and of Egypt that he had to hurt just a little in order to civilize them & bring home to their hearts & minds the advantages of a “closer union with The Empire”. Somebody was asking what one of the many brave men who were mercilessly shot in Dublin by his understudy’s orders would change places now with the cold-hearted pitilessly cruel despot. If you want a little inkling as to the character of K. of K. read “John Bull’s Other Island” the introduction by [ blank space ]. Take up any portrait of the great departed & look at his face, mark the cold cruel eye. Enough said.
We had a second visit from General Warren, the War Office official. He told us what wily Asquith said in the British House of Commons, that we would be sent to camps. Asked for complaints and got lots of them. Mine was the inadequate opportunity given to see & speak with visitors, and the inconvenience of not being allowed to take our parcels from the visitors & have them examined right away as was done in Richmond Barracks. He asked [the] Commandant about the visitor trouble & for a few days we were taken in batches of 8 or 10 at a time & got a chance of speaking to the visitors thro’ the prison gates.
But the civil authority here clashed with the military powers. And now there was far more ceremony than ever about getting to interview ones friends. In a few days after the Great Man’s visit we could only go to visitors in groups of 2 or 4 & under armed escort. Previously we went with a Sergt. only – our parcels have to be left at [the] gates & we may get part of contents the following day. Certainly many little articles sent to us don’t reach us. Some certainly find their way to other prisoners in the confusion. Other items are pilfered by the birds that abound in Barlinnie.
On one Sunday at least forty visitors who had come long distances & who were waiting for hours at the gates had to go away without seeing those they proposed meeting, and parcels were so bulky & so numerous that there was general consternation in both civil & military departments. It did not of course matter so much that the prisoners had the greater cause for annoyance. What were they as General Warren said to a young Galway lad who complained of the food & general treatment. “What better food or treatment can you expect. What good are you and such as you doing for your country.” The General I daresay meant the country that pays him a good fat salary for fooling about. He doesn’t understand that any other small nationality can have interests which may not always be identical with those of the Motherland of the vast Empire.
I had a visit from a Jesuit priest. He listened & I talked. So I asked him if he were an Irishman. He said he was born in England. Then [illegible] spoke to me in the Gaelic tongue. I was ashamed that my laziness prevented me from learning to speak & understand my own language. He too was most anxious to send us everything, and was disappointed when I didn’t give him a big order.
Gradually in ones & twos our numbers are lessening. A Clonmel friend left us quite lonely to part with us on Tuesday June 13th. We sent by him for insertion in the Independent & Free Press, as well as in any other papers that might publish our opinion of the Lloyd George humbugging scheme of settlement of Ireland’s claim to nationality. This week, all restrictions are very visibly relaxed. All the military who have to do with us are quite civil & even friendly. And the Captain who was in charge of the censorship of our letters & who sees to the distribution of parcels & generally looks after work in our connection is quite a friendly, civil & obliging gentleman. He from the very first had the good will and respect of every Irish prisoner in Barlinnie. And it is not what he says or does that gained him this liking, it’s how he speaks and acts to us prisoners.
Hair cutting by special request now allowed. Shaving allowed after some demur. But prisoners not allowed to keep a razor : must be shaved by some other prisoner while at Exercise. A corporal who is quite an expert at the shaving business kindly enough operated on at least a dozen men one afternoon. The extraordinary change it made in some of the prisoners appearance is unbelievable. I do not recognise them as the same men I knew a few days ago.
We got back our money & watches on Saturday 17th. June. And many of the men have got fine new military boots gratis. Others have had boots repaired.
He read out with much satisfaction the news of the great naval victory. The tremendous victory the press & public men, from Churchill – Balfour & Beresford downwards, turned it into was astonishing. How is it they didn’t explain that they were not able to pick up any German or English survivors when the battle was fought & won. It appears the cowardly Germans ran away & took the survivors of the sunken English warships with them. Another vile Hunnish trick.
We read with deep feelings, well you can guess whether we weren’t sorry, of K. of K’s visit to the Madhi, and the many victims of his warrior prowess. The Boer Concentration Camps, the natives of India and of Egypt that he had to hurt just a little in order to civilize them & bring home to their hearts & minds the advantages of a “closer union with The Empire”. Somebody was asking what one of the many brave men who were mercilessly shot in Dublin by his understudy’s orders would change places now with the cold-hearted pitilessly cruel despot. If you want a little inkling as to the character of K. of K. read “John Bull’s Other Island” the introduction by [ blank space ]. Take up any portrait of the great departed & look at his face, mark the cold cruel eye. Enough said.
We had a second visit from General Warren, the War Office official. He told us what wily Asquith said in the British House of Commons, that we would be sent to camps. Asked for complaints and got lots of them. Mine was the inadequate opportunity given to see & speak with visitors, and the inconvenience of not being allowed to take our parcels from the visitors & have them examined right away as was done in Richmond Barracks. He asked [the] Commandant about the visitor trouble & for a few days we were taken in batches of 8 or 10 at a time & got a chance of speaking to the visitors thro’ the prison gates.
But the civil authority here clashed with the military powers. And now there was far more ceremony than ever about getting to interview ones friends. In a few days after the Great Man’s visit we could only go to visitors in groups of 2 or 4 & under armed escort. Previously we went with a Sergt. only – our parcels have to be left at [the] gates & we may get part of contents the following day. Certainly many little articles sent to us don’t reach us. Some certainly find their way to other prisoners in the confusion. Other items are pilfered by the birds that abound in Barlinnie.
On one Sunday at least forty visitors who had come long distances & who were waiting for hours at the gates had to go away without seeing those they proposed meeting, and parcels were so bulky & so numerous that there was general consternation in both civil & military departments. It did not of course matter so much that the prisoners had the greater cause for annoyance. What were they as General Warren said to a young Galway lad who complained of the food & general treatment. “What better food or treatment can you expect. What good are you and such as you doing for your country.” The General I daresay meant the country that pays him a good fat salary for fooling about. He doesn’t understand that any other small nationality can have interests which may not always be identical with those of the Motherland of the vast Empire.
I had a visit from a Jesuit priest. He listened & I talked. So I asked him if he were an Irishman. He said he was born in England. Then [illegible] spoke to me in the Gaelic tongue. I was ashamed that my laziness prevented me from learning to speak & understand my own language. He too was most anxious to send us everything, and was disappointed when I didn’t give him a big order.
Gradually in ones & twos our numbers are lessening. A Clonmel friend left us quite lonely to part with us on Tuesday June 13th. We sent by him for insertion in the Independent & Free Press, as well as in any other papers that might publish our opinion of the Lloyd George humbugging scheme of settlement of Ireland’s claim to nationality. This week, all restrictions are very visibly relaxed. All the military who have to do with us are quite civil & even friendly. And the Captain who was in charge of the censorship of our letters & who sees to the distribution of parcels & generally looks after work in our connection is quite a friendly, civil & obliging gentleman. He from the very first had the good will and respect of every Irish prisoner in Barlinnie. And it is not what he says or does that gained him this liking, it’s how he speaks and acts to us prisoners.
Hair cutting by special request now allowed. Shaving allowed after some demur. But prisoners not allowed to keep a razor : must be shaved by some other prisoner while at Exercise. A corporal who is quite an expert at the shaving business kindly enough operated on at least a dozen men one afternoon. The extraordinary change it made in some of the prisoners appearance is unbelievable. I do not recognise them as the same men I knew a few days ago.
We got back our money & watches on Saturday 17th. June. And many of the men have got fine new military boots gratis. Others have had boots repaired.
The names of all who have no overcoats have been noted down & everything points to an early removal to new quarters. We are so near our friends here that I don’t like to leave. However, camp life will be healthier. Many of the men here feel out of sorts. Several case of sore throat. I got a pretty severe attack & had to report sick. Military Doctor visited me, was very interested. Gave me a gargle & c & what I did not like, made me remain in my cell one whole day & would not allow me have a bath next day. We have had the luxury of good warm bath each Saturday since we came here. I am alright this Sunday thanks to good constitution & to the doctor’s treatment. I think the sanitary arrangements are not as good as they could be & certainly the drinking water has very peculiar appearance. Quite brown in colour, like river water & stains the vessel it is in overnight with a black greasy stain that has to be rubbed out.
All the men & boys, some few under 16yrs. & a dozen or more not yet twenty, are in the best of spirits. Their playfulness & invariable good humour has won the liking and admiration of even the most hostile of their military warders. They are true to the traditions of their grand old race. Unconquerable, irrepressible, brave-hearted Irishmen, bubbling over with good-natured fun. Undaunted by frowns or harsh treatment. Won immediately by considerate acts or kindly expressed words. With a little discipline, and a little training, with such an education even as their experiences of the past five or six weeks, the country boys, the lads from Co. Galway promise to make the best Irishmen of all here. Their lives have been the simple & natural lives of the countryside. Their minds & hearts are true & unsullied, & their patriotism burns pure & without a single selfish aspiration.
“Here is to the Gallant Old West.”
All the men & boys, some few under 16yrs. & a dozen or more not yet twenty, are in the best of spirits. Their playfulness & invariable good humour has won the liking and admiration of even the most hostile of their military warders. They are true to the traditions of their grand old race. Unconquerable, irrepressible, brave-hearted Irishmen, bubbling over with good-natured fun. Undaunted by frowns or harsh treatment. Won immediately by considerate acts or kindly expressed words. With a little discipline, and a little training, with such an education even as their experiences of the past five or six weeks, the country boys, the lads from Co. Galway promise to make the best Irishmen of all here. Their lives have been the simple & natural lives of the countryside. Their minds & hearts are true & unsullied, & their patriotism burns pure & without a single selfish aspiration.
“Here is to the Gallant Old West.”
Postscript
In July 1916, Moloney was released from Barlinnie Prison in Glasgow and his Republican activities after this became political rather than military. His home at Church Street was where the decision was made with Chief of Staff, Richard Mulcahy to form what became the 3rd Tipperary Brigade of the Irish Volunteers/Irish Republican Army in 1918.
In May 1918, P.J. Moloney was one of sevety-three prominent Sinn Feiners arrested and jailed during the 'German Plot' and was eventually released in December. While jailed, he was elected as a Sinn Féin MP for the Tipperary South constituency at the 1918 general election. His home on Church Street was 'Brigade Headquarters' at the time of the Soloheadbeg ambush near Tipperary town in January 1919.
Detained again in 1920 at Wormwood Scrubs Jail, he and another detainee went on hunger strike which lasted for 23 days before hospitalisation and release.
On November 14, 1920, the Moloney pharmacy and home at Church Street were burned down as a reprisal following the deaths of four RIC policemen in an ambush by the 3rd Tipperary Brigade at the nearby Glen of Aherlow. Ellen Moloney later wrote of the event to her sister:
"..."During the night, three RIC men armed with rifles forced their way in - although they wore masks, she easily recognised one of them as he 'was in our house every day'. The arsonists ejected Ellen and a servant, the only people in the house, before sprinkling petrol everywhere. The inferno destroyed not only Moloney's pharmacy stocks but all the family's possessions and memrabilia. Damage was estimated at £10,000, the adjacent premises of Lipton's Grocers was destroyed and the entire terrace might have been consumed were it not for 'good work by the local police and the military fire brigade'. The fire also consumed a collection of books belonging to Ernie O'Malley, who had given them to Con Moloney for safekeeping.'
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
On May 1, 1921, Paddy Moloney and his battalion commander Sean Duffy were surprised by a police raid on a farm outside the town, and in the ensuing fight, both were shot dead.
Moloney was elected unopposed as a Sinn Féin Teachta Dála for the Tipperary Mid, North and South constituency at the 1921 elections.
Opposing the Anglo-Irish Treaty, Moloney voted against it. Re-elected for the same constituency at the 1922 general election, this time as an anti-Treaty Sinn Féin TD, but he did not take his seat in the Dáil and did not contest the 1923 general election.
He played no direct role during the Civil War, although there must have been substantial concerns that his two surviving sons, serving on Liam Lynch's staff, were wanted by the Free State and would probably be killed or executed if captured.
Historians Weeks & O'Fathartaigh comment that Moloney 'had not yet rebuilt his pharmacy business and his main income appears to have come from part-time work as a 'medical compounder' for Tipperary Board of Guardians, with whom he engaged in lengthy correspondence in 1923 in an attempt to secure arrears of salary and better pay.'
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
In May 1918, P.J. Moloney was one of sevety-three prominent Sinn Feiners arrested and jailed during the 'German Plot' and was eventually released in December. While jailed, he was elected as a Sinn Féin MP for the Tipperary South constituency at the 1918 general election. His home on Church Street was 'Brigade Headquarters' at the time of the Soloheadbeg ambush near Tipperary town in January 1919.
Detained again in 1920 at Wormwood Scrubs Jail, he and another detainee went on hunger strike which lasted for 23 days before hospitalisation and release.
On November 14, 1920, the Moloney pharmacy and home at Church Street were burned down as a reprisal following the deaths of four RIC policemen in an ambush by the 3rd Tipperary Brigade at the nearby Glen of Aherlow. Ellen Moloney later wrote of the event to her sister:
"..."During the night, three RIC men armed with rifles forced their way in - although they wore masks, she easily recognised one of them as he 'was in our house every day'. The arsonists ejected Ellen and a servant, the only people in the house, before sprinkling petrol everywhere. The inferno destroyed not only Moloney's pharmacy stocks but all the family's possessions and memrabilia. Damage was estimated at £10,000, the adjacent premises of Lipton's Grocers was destroyed and the entire terrace might have been consumed were it not for 'good work by the local police and the military fire brigade'. The fire also consumed a collection of books belonging to Ernie O'Malley, who had given them to Con Moloney for safekeeping.'
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
On May 1, 1921, Paddy Moloney and his battalion commander Sean Duffy were surprised by a police raid on a farm outside the town, and in the ensuing fight, both were shot dead.
Moloney was elected unopposed as a Sinn Féin Teachta Dála for the Tipperary Mid, North and South constituency at the 1921 elections.
Opposing the Anglo-Irish Treaty, Moloney voted against it. Re-elected for the same constituency at the 1922 general election, this time as an anti-Treaty Sinn Féin TD, but he did not take his seat in the Dáil and did not contest the 1923 general election.
He played no direct role during the Civil War, although there must have been substantial concerns that his two surviving sons, serving on Liam Lynch's staff, were wanted by the Free State and would probably be killed or executed if captured.
Historians Weeks & O'Fathartaigh comment that Moloney 'had not yet rebuilt his pharmacy business and his main income appears to have come from part-time work as a 'medical compounder' for Tipperary Board of Guardians, with whom he engaged in lengthy correspondence in 1923 in an attempt to secure arrears of salary and better pay.'
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
Eamon de Valera's move into conventional politics was supported by Moloney and he became an active member of Fianna Fail. He also chaired the commemorative committee for Sean Treacy (1895-1920) for many years and gave the annual graveside oration.
P.J.Moloney died in September 1947.
His funeral was attended by Taoiseach de Valera and 'his coffin was draped in the Tricolour, and members of the Third Tipperary Brigade...formed a guard of honour'.
The Irish Press reported that Dan Breen TD in a tribute commented:
"Yes, PJ was with us in the fight. He also gave his tree sons to the fight...the Ireland he worked and suffered for shall be realised and when that day dawns of a completely free and Gaelic Ireland, P.J. Moloney's name will shine out on the list of those whom he has now joined in his eternal reward."
As Moloney died in 1947, the year that the Bureau of Military History was established, he had no opportunity to provide a witness statement. However, it was only in 2001 that his long forgotten Prison Journal was discovered in a Home Office file in the British Archives at Kew, London. He had submitted this document to the Sankey Commission in 1916, which had been established to review the cases of men in detention. When Moloney was released in July 1916, the Home Office 'refused to return what one official loftily termed 'a jeremiad, a dreary catalogue of complaints, correct in grammar and [which] shows the author to be a person of some education' on the grounds of its seditious sentiments. This arbitrary act was a stroke of luck for posterity. Moloney's account has remained safe in British hands for over a century, wheras his Tipperary premises, family home and personal effects were destroyed by fire in an unofficial reprisal in November 1920.'
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
P.J.Moloney died in September 1947.
His funeral was attended by Taoiseach de Valera and 'his coffin was draped in the Tricolour, and members of the Third Tipperary Brigade...formed a guard of honour'.
The Irish Press reported that Dan Breen TD in a tribute commented:
"Yes, PJ was with us in the fight. He also gave his tree sons to the fight...the Ireland he worked and suffered for shall be realised and when that day dawns of a completely free and Gaelic Ireland, P.J. Moloney's name will shine out on the list of those whom he has now joined in his eternal reward."
As Moloney died in 1947, the year that the Bureau of Military History was established, he had no opportunity to provide a witness statement. However, it was only in 2001 that his long forgotten Prison Journal was discovered in a Home Office file in the British Archives at Kew, London. He had submitted this document to the Sankey Commission in 1916, which had been established to review the cases of men in detention. When Moloney was released in July 1916, the Home Office 'refused to return what one official loftily termed 'a jeremiad, a dreary catalogue of complaints, correct in grammar and [which] shows the author to be a person of some education' on the grounds of its seditious sentiments. This arbitrary act was a stroke of luck for posterity. Moloney's account has remained safe in British hands for over a century, wheras his Tipperary premises, family home and personal effects were destroyed by fire in an unofficial reprisal in November 1920.'
The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
The "Maid of Erin" and Moloney Family Plaque, junction of Church Street and Main Street in Tipperary Town, the site of P.J. Moloney's home was destroyed by British Forces as a reprisal in November 1920.
The plaque commemorates P.J. Moloney and the Moloney family's contribution to the cause of Irish Freedom. The "Maid of Erin" monument, originally stood a short distance from this site, was unveiled on Sunday 10th March, 1907, by Charles Doran of Cobh, a member of the Irish Republican Brotherhood. It was erected by the local branch of the Irish National Foresters and commemorates the execution in Manchester on 23rd November, 1867, of William Philip Allen, Michael Larkin and Michael O'Brien. |
Allen, the youngest of the three was born near this town in April 1848 and grew up in Bandon in County Cork. The monument was designed by P.R.Cleary of Tipperary and was executed by Joseph O'Reilly in Dublin. After extensive repairs, the monument was relocated to this site in February 2003 and officially unveiled on Sunday, 22nd June, 2003, by the Mayor of Tipperary Town, Cllr. Anna Tuohy-Halligan. This site was donated to the people of Tipperary by Thomas Maloney, Ballinahow, Tipperary.
'Maid of Erin' statues (located in many towns and cities throughout Ireland) were generally erected to commemorate the Manchester Martyrs and also in some instances, jointly commemorating the 1798 Rebellion.
'Maid of Erin' statues (located in many towns and cities throughout Ireland) were generally erected to commemorate the Manchester Martyrs and also in some instances, jointly commemorating the 1798 Rebellion.
Other Pages of Interest
The September 1916 wedding of Bridget 'Birdie' Hannon and Louis D'Alton will be featured here.
Currently a work in progress July 2020 with biographical details etc - will be uploaded shortly
The July 1914 wedding of Denis Lynch & Alice Wyatt (daughter or Mary Louisa Wyatt nee D'Alton) is featured here.
Currently a work in progress July 2020 with biographical details etc - will be uploaded shortly
The July 1914 wedding of Denis Lynch & Alice Wyatt (daughter or Mary Louisa Wyatt nee D'Alton) is featured here.
Credits
Special thanks to:
References:
- Tom Humphreys
- Eunan O'Halpin
- Dublin City Council, The Irish Times, Wikipedia
References:
- The Treaty: Debating and Establishing the Irish State. Edited by Liam Weeks & Mícheál Ó Fathartaigh. Irish Academic Press. 2018.
- The Irish Times Sinn Fein Rebellion Handbook. Dublin, 1917.