A History of the Easter Rising in 50 Objects. By John Gibney historian.

 

A History of the Easter Rising in 50 Objects. By John Gibney historian.

Some if not most readers may be familiar with Ireland in 100 Objects, a wide ranging history-through artifact book helmed by Fintan O’Tooole. Here in A History of the Easter Rising in 50 Objects, historian John Gibney (who I know, formerly as a lecturer, latterly as an occasional colleague) takes a similar, equally fruitful approach. He applies it, with great deftness and clarity to the smaller, symbolically epic, yet more defined canvas of the Easter Rising. It works.

The book begins with Tom Clarke’s Certificate of American Naturalization from 1905. This is a quiet masterstroke in itself. The curatorial decision to put Clarke first puts his figure back from the shadows back where he belongs, at the centre of the Easter 1916 Rising. He was its main planner, over many long, focused, single minded determined years. As Gibney tells us the rebellion might well have occurred, in some form or shape without Pearce, arguably even without Connolly.   The same is not true of Clarke. No Clarke: no 1916.

Even more sharply, putting Clarke and his certificate first reminds us of the vital American link, without which the Rising might simply never have happened.  The particular ambiance of the American-Irish Republicans in exile, with their smoldering resentment of the old enemy and oppressor England, was a thing unto itself.  The moral support, the large amounts of money, (gathered by John Devoy and other leading Fenians in America) which sustained the Rebellion in Ireland in its early and middle planning phase. and the sheer sense of drive, purpose, even impatience for action, all coming from America, were crucial.  So the course of Irish history  was undoubtedly influenced by it. Decisively influenced?  That is food for thought.

Gibney has the art of telling history through objects, with an eye for the crucial point, and the short yet telling aside. He is consistently excellent at looking beyond the myth, across the mire of cliché. .

Some of the objects you’d expect to appear, like one of those tangled masses of melted glass and rubble (from the charred ruins of the GPO); or the Plough and Stars flag of the Irish Citizen Army, do indeed appear. All used to great narrative effect. Other artifacts are more surprising, but equally effective.  Curatorial choices are first class. Each item serves a vital function, achieving great depth of context, yet in just 50 pithy, entertaining 2-page mini-essays. The overall effect is superb.

Two of the consecutive short sections feature contrasting Irish militia uniforms from the era, one Irish Volunteers; the other from the Irish National Volunteers. These are used to succinctly sketch the political climate of Ireland prior to the First World War, before the Volenteer movement split, before the First Word War, when “England’s difficulty” (World War with Germany) became “Ireland’s Opportunity”. The Home Rule crisis, when an Irish civil war loomed, between Unionist determined to resist Home Rule, and Nationalists who felt they’d waited long enough. As the vast European War broke out, it averted a civil war in Ireland, but forced a split in the Volunteers, between those who were prepared fight for Britain before the promise of Home Rule was ever delivered or implemented, taking it on trust, as it were, despite the looming, albeit deferred, Unionist threat of violence, and Tory-backed, army mutinies (at the very least, the Curragh mutiny had the tacit support or smirk of approval from English Unionists like Randolph Churchill)

For the other, more radical and impatient nationalist wing, fighting for Britain once Home Rule was passed into law, but before it was even delivered on the ground, despite the decades of waiting and frustration, was now a concession too far.

The split in the Volunteer Movement thus divided and defined Nationalists politically. With the war now in train, and “Ireland’s opportunity” in play, it provided an impetus for the insurrection, secretly planned by a tiny steely splinter within the minority side. A splinter group off a splinter group in fact.

Overall this book was an exercise in humility for me. Frankly, I thought I’d be more familiar with more of the objects. Instead I found a work full of insight and discovery. Those who follow the wonderful blog (published on WordPress from the National Museum Collins Barracks) called “the Cricket Bat that died for Ireland” will know for example of the badge in Pearse’s hat he gave to English officer John Loder (in thanks for a small but welcome act of sensitivity and tact by Loder, while in a car on the way to prison, immediately after Pearce’s surrender). If you don’t know it it’s a beautiful story. It was related by Loder himself, in old archive interview footage, in that excellent recent PBS/RTE 1916 documentary, so more people may know the tale by now. The only point is, objects such as these, with all their accretions of personal meaning and value, can give us extraordinary insight. But only  in the right hands.

The eponymous cricket bat, if not the badge, features here in Gibney’s book. The bat caught a bullet while it was being looted from the old Elvery’s Sports Shop, once on Sackville Street. The bat stopped a bullet so probably saved a child’s life. But Gibney is too good a historian, and too humane, to just leave it there. The object also makes a vital point about Dublin’s dreadful inner city poverty. Most children who looted shops in Dublin’s city centre during Easter week were from circumstances of desperate poverty and had never previously owned a toy in their lives. Some of them were shot dead for trying to acquire one. Shot dead by both sides.

That’s some gain in understanding, in just one of these 50 short, crisply written vignettes. Every short chapter has a point, and each hits home. Séan MacDiarmida’s Hurley (the stick he used to play Hurling, for our overseas readers)  is employed, brilliantly, to talk about the entire IRB very clever and subtle recruitment strategy. And as for Thomas McDonagh’s play-writing, represented by an old playbill programme from the Abbey. Well. I’ll let you read what John Gibney has to say about Thomas McDonagh’s play-writing. And there are dozens more short sections to enjoy.

Go and buy and read this clever, visual, digestible, enjoyable, even inspirational book. You’ll be doing all the winning.

A History of the Rising – in 50 Objects. John Gibney.  Published Mercier Press.

History of the Easter Rising in 50 Objects

 

12 thoughts on “A History of the Easter Rising in 50 Objects. By John Gibney historian.

    1. Yes, of course! I’d be over the moon if you did, and obviously the author would be very pleased too. You know how much work it is researching and writing a book. Every bit helps. I’m sure he’d be delighted. Thanks Oglach. You’re a great support.

  1. Sounds like a fascinating angle to analyse the Rising. One of my great regrets is that I never asked my great-grandma Brennan more about the Rising. She was the last one who lived through it—my grandad died just after I was born and great-grandad had been dead for years. She told some funny anecdotes about being caught in the crossfire on Sackville street and my great-grandad being picked up by the soldiers for pretending to be carrying explosives under his coat, but I never asked her questions about what it had been like. Too late now.

    1. I know exactly what you mean. My own grandmother was born during the Easter Rising, in the Rotunda, which of course is just at the top of O’Connell /Sackville St. Her father was trying to bring flowers to her mother, (his wife, my great-grandma) and, well, I knew he had been turned around by the soldiers because of the street fighting, and the cerfew, but i knew no more than that. But then my mother in the car a week ago casually announces he had actually been shot. Not shot dead, but shot all the same mind you. Trying to get to the bottom of it it now. Apparently i have 2nd cousins who know more about it and they have a page on Facebook. Determined to find out more.

      1. Ask them if they ever heard of a Maggie Brennan who led a tramload of passengers in the Rosary when the driver abandoned them in Sackville Street when the tram was caught in gunfire at the GPO. I’m not surprised your great-grandfather was shot at. The British irregulars and whatever sound to have been pretty trigger happy. That they actually hit him makes the story more exciting. What a time to have lived through though.

        1. I’m just glad they didn’t kill him! Otherwise I wouldn’t be here myself. (Gulp) Love the story of your great-grand-ma Brennan leading the other passengers in the Rosary. Hope it got them all through. A lot of civilians were killed as you know. Far more than the number of combatants in fact. (even on/from both sides, when added together) It’s a good story. But they were tough enough times. Dublin in particular could be a very brutal, very unequal place.

          1. Times were tough for the poor maybe more so in Ireland than in most of Europe. The way they talked about it though you wouldn’t know it. They never complained except about the politicians, and later, of course, about Dev/Collins.

    1. You won’t go wrong with this book Ben. It’s the best introduction to the Easter Rising for the intelligent general reader, for anyone interested in history, but not necessarily a specialist, that I’ve come across. The pictorial, illustrated nature of it, and the short chapters, just made it a pleasure to read. Without sacrificing any of the accuracy and historical rigour. It’s a super book.

If you've enjoyed the piece above, please leave a comment, love to hear from you.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s