The Irish rebellion of 1916 : $b or, the unbroken traditionO'Brien, Nora Connolly
History
The Irish rebellion of 1916 : $b or, the unbroken tradition
O'Brien, Nora Connolly
Ireland -- History -- Easter Rising, 1916
Here the Countess de Markieviez reigned supreme--all meals were
prepared under her direction. There were big tubs on the floor;
around each were about half a dozen girls peeling potatoes and other
vegetables. There were more girls at tables cutting up meat. The
Countess kept up a steady march around the boilers as she supervised
the cooking. She took me to another kitchen where more delicate food
was being prepared for nursing and expectant mothers.
"We used to give the food out at first," she said. "But in almost
every case we found that it had been divided amongst the family. Now
we have the women come here to eat. We are sure then that they are
getting something sufficiently nourishing to keep up their strength."
She showed me a hall with a long table in the {3} center and chairs
around it. As it was near the "Mothers' dinner hour," as the girls
called it, some of the striking women and girls were there to act as
waitresses.
We came to the clothing shop next. Some persons had caught the idea
of sending warm clothing for the wives and children of the strikers;
accordingly one of the rooms of Liberty Hall was turned into an
alteration room. Several women and girls were working from morning
to night altering the clothes to fit the applicants. One of the
girls said to me, "It was a wonder to us at first the number of
strikers who had extra large families, until we found out that in
many cases their wives had adopted a youngster or two for the day,
and brought them along to get clothed." Not strictly honest,
perhaps, but how human to wish to share their little bit of good
fortune with those not so fortunate as themselves. How many little
boys and girls knew for the first time in their lives the feel of
warm stockings and shoes, and how many little girls had the delicious
thrill of getting a new dress fitted on.
Thence to Croyden Park. Some time before the strike this immensely
big place had {4} been taken over by the Union. I do not know how
large it was but there were fields and fields, and long pathways
edged with trees. It was used by the members as a football ground
and for hurley and all sorts of sports and games. But this time the
fields were ringed round with men and women watching the rows and
rows of strikers who were in the fields, marching now to the right,
now to the left at the commands of Captain White, who stood in the
center, a tall soldierly figure blowing a whistle and gesticulating
with great fervor.
Back and forth, right and left they marched with never a moment's
rest; then round and round the fields they ran at the double; the
Captain now at the head, now at the rear, now in the center shouting
commands incessantly, sparing himself no more than the men. I
remember once he stopped beside my father and myself; he was in a
terrible rage, his hands were clenched and he was fairly gnashing his
teeth. He had given a signal to one of the columns and they had
misinterpreted it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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