a man called pearse desmond ryan

8/4/2019 A Man Called Pearse Desmond Ryan

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSE


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BY THE SAME AUTHORTHE STORY OF A SUCCESSBEING A RECORD OF ST. ENDA'sCOLLEGE SEPTEMBER 1908

TO EASTER 1916.

Printed by George Roberti, 50 Lower Baggot Street, Dublin


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HE MAN CALLED

BYDESMOND RYAN

MAUNSEL AND COMPANY, LTD.DUBLIN AND LONDON. 1919


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DR


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TOMRS. PEARSE


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CONTENTSChap. Page

I. THE MAN CALLED PEARSE III. THE THREE WISHES OF P. H. PEARSE 26

III. AS WE KNEW HIM 42IV. THE BROTHERS PEARSE 60V. SGOIL EANNA AND ITS INSIDE LIFE JJ

VI. THE WRITINGS OF P. H. PEARSE 90VII. THE SOCIAL IDEALS OF P. H. PEARSE 1 06


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSECHAPTER IPearse never was a legend, he was a man.And one of his students, with due acknow-

ledgment and gratitude to Dr. Mahaffy forthe happy phrase which has been borrowedfor the title of this book, intends to deal inwhat follows with some aspects of the life andideals of the Man called Pearse. Circum-stances and a too literal interpretation of hiswritings have already lent considerable colourto the legend which depicts Pearse as thesombre Napoleon of some lost cause, as arelentless idealist haunted by the necessityfor a blood sacrifice to save the Irish nation,as one who would " break his strength anddie, he and a few in bloody protest for aglorious thing," as something or anythingmore legendary than the actual Pearse manyof us knew. " Kings with plumes may adorntheir hearse," ran a popular tribute as earlyas September 1916, "but angels meet the


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEsoul of Patrick Pearse." Innumerable balladshave followed, and Pearse belongs to historyalready. We would prefer to describe himin the Provost of Trinity's words. It isdoubtful whether anyone living to-day cancall up again the complete Pearse, even thePearse we knew in Sgoil Eanna. Unless,however, as intimate an account as possibleis left of those important years from SgoilEanna's foundation in 1908 until the end,at the best, essential details will be absent, atthe worst, a personality will have vanishedin a legend.

Since Pearse died his pupils have felt averitable blank in their lives, for Pearse wasa rare and noble counsellor if ever there wasone. To know him was to love him, to beinspired and see a glamour in the most hum-drum details of ordinary life, a sanity in themost hazardous enterprise. Some critics havefound him outwardly cold, parsonical, aposeur, a spinner of fine phrases without apractical spark in him. We have a differentstory to tell. On the contrary, Pearse meantthe most subtle and beautiful thing he eversaid, was the most human of human beings,critical, humorous, proud, tender, purposeful,


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEscrupulous, honourable, charitable, reckingevery sacrifice slight for his dear ideals ofGod and Ireland. His biography may besummed up as the accomplishment of thethree wishes he often expressed before evenSir Edward Carson dreamed of arms : Toedit a bilingual paper, to found a bilingualsecondary school, to start a revolution. Ihave written elsewhere that the only tragedyin P. H. Pearse's case was the resolute andenthusiastic pursuit of a conviction. Hebelieved that no nation could win freedomexcept in arms. He also believed that cir-cumstances, as those for instance which facedIreland in 1848, made insurrection inevitableand indeed a matter of honour for those whohad preached and prepared for insurrection.He hoped for the best and dared the worst.There is the whole and simple truth on thataspect of the matter.

Remarkably few faults marred his char-acter. Indeed, to write the literal truth asone may write who saw him in his ownhome, in every mood and vicissitude, as ateacher, a writer, a propagandist, a captain,he was a perfect man, whose faults were themere defects of his straight and rigid virtues.


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEIn his writings, whether political or other-wise, he lives still, for all his writings,whether propagandist or not, are uncon-scious autobiography. Few men have everthrown a personality so completely intowords. In his descriptions of Tone, Emmet,Mitchel, or Davis, one finds not only theEvangelists he deemed to have enunciateda national gospel ; one finds the men them-selves ; above all, one finds the man thosemen and teachings made. Pearse has leftin his political pamphlets the convictionswhich so greatly swayed him. Irish nation-alism was a body of teaching derived fromapostles who knew both the end and themeans ; the men and women of to-day mightexpound, improve in application, but neverdeviate from the primal truth by a hair'sbreadth. "Tone, Davis, Mitchel," he toldhis brother, "knew better than the presentgeneration what should be done and how todo it." Perhaps in the G.P.O., when hecried exultantly that Emmet's two-hourinsurrection was nothing to this, doubts mayhave crossed his mind as to the strict truthof his dogma, but assuredly this was the firstand final instance. Tone's AUTOBIOGRAPHY,


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEMitchel's JAIL JOURNAL, the essays of Davisand Lalor, and the vast historical librarywhich has grown up around '98, '48, '67,he studied and assimilated just in the samemanner as he had formerly made the Cuchu-lainn and Fionn cycles, ancient and modernIrish literature, his own. He carried Tone'sAUTOBIOGRAPHY around with the unfailingcare some ministers would appear to carrytheir Bibles, and knew it as literally. " HasIreland learned a truer philosophy," he asksin aTone commemoration address, "than thephilosophy of '98, a nobler way of salvationthan the way of 1803 ? Is Wolfe Tone'sdefinition superseded, and do we dischargeour duty to Emmet's memory by accordinghim annually our pity?" It is the faithwhich flames up in the ardent and coherentrhetoric of the oration by O'Donovan Rossa'sgrave-side." Deliberately here we avow ourselvesIrishmen of one allegiance only. . . . Andwe know only one definition of freedom : itis Tone's definition, it is Mitchel's defini-tion, it is Rossa's definition. Let no manblaspheme the cause that the dead genera-tions of Ireland served by giving it any other


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEname and definition than their name and theirdefinition. . . . Splendid and holy causesare served by men who are themselvessplendid and holy. O'Donovan Rossa wassplendid in the proud manhood of him,splendid in the heroic grace of him, splendidin the Gaelic strength and clarity and truthof him. And all that splendour and prideand strength was compatible with a humilityand simplicity of devotion to Ireland, to allthat was older and beautiful and Gaelic inIreland, the holiness and simplicity ofpatriotism of a Michael O'Clery, or ofan Eoghan O'Growney. The clear trueeyes of this man, almost alone in his day,visioned Ireland as we to-day would surelyhave her : not free merely but Gaelic aswell ; not Gaelic merely but free as well."

Again, in his last four pamphlets hedefines the same faith with the same fulnessand clearness, writing as he did in completeconsciousness that his pen must soon be laidaside, and now, if ever, should he write hisapologia. If similarity of word, phrase andthought be any guide, he wrote it again inthe Republican Proclamation.

Besides an apologia he has written an6


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEautobiography. No careful reader of HowDOES SHE STAND, those three addresses uponTone and Emmet, delivered in places so farapart as Bodenstown and New York, canever mistake Pearse's personality, or char-acter, or purpose. The singleness of hispurpose, the strength of his character, thebeauty of his personality shine through hiswords. His portrait of Emmet is a portraitof his own youth, his sadder, his more gentleside. From this came losagdn^ his GaelicLeague activities, Sgoil Eanna. He usedto remember those days with enthusiasm."Bhiomar og an uair sin" he would cry witheagerness and proceed to relate with intense

pride and satisfaction all the dash and energyof his co-workers in the Gaelic League, whatan ideal and vision the Language Movementhad brought to him, recalling that at the ageof eighteen he had issued his THREE ESSAYSON GAELIC TOPICS as a book, that at the ageof twenty-three he had edited An ClaidheamhSoluis, won a Modern Language Scholarship,become a schoolmaster and Secretary of theGaelic League's Publication Committee inthe one and same year. " Ah ! " he wouldconclude, half in Irish and half in English,


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSE"Nach leisgeamhail an dream sibh! You haveno go ! "His portrait of Tone is a portrait of Pearscfrom the time he scoffed at his " harmlessliterary Nationalism " and passed into theIrish Volunteers, " the thing I have waitedfor all my life." In "The Rebel" and "TheFool," Pearse reveals himself as he wasawaiting that fateful Eastertide. We find inAn Mhdthair that other Pearse who couldhave found his way blindfolded among theConnacht roads. We can read in An Uaimh,or the "Wandering Hawk " that great lovefor boys that has meant so much for Irisheducation. Finally, in "The Singer" wefind the life-story and philosophy of onewho knew its ending, and what it profitsman to struggle for upon this earth, a visionof truth and duty perhaps no child of Adamdare hope to see and follow more than oncein a hundred years. He drew his flaminginspiration from the Irish hero-tales and asimple, spiritual, living Christianity. Hehints, too, that he has sounded the depths ofdisillusion. That is the message of the sternand subtle "Master," or the more direct andjoyous An Ri; that message reaches a mature

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEexpression in "The Singer" to convince usthat Pearse, in very fact, incarnated the soulof Irish Ireland which laboured steadfastlyuntil it rose before men's eyes in the luridEaster flames and a city's devastation.Because Pearse knew so well what hewanted, and repeated in a hundred ways hisbeliefs and teachings, he has been dismissedby some as simple. His message wasindeed simple and direct to his generation.Repeatedly he has compressed his gospel inan article, a poem, a phrase. In justice onemust protest, his was one of the most com-plex personalities of his day. Two veryopposed statements of his are singularlyilluminating in this connection, allowancebeing made for the self-deprecation men ofhis temperament indulge in sometimes. In1912 when his advocacy of the Irish CouncilsBill had exposed him to Republican andSinn Fein criticism, he said in private he wasthe most sincere and dangerous man of themall, engaging in public to free Ireland if hehad a hundred men to follow him. Theoffer expressed the

conviction which neverdeserted him, that to desire was to hope, tohope was to believe, and belief spelled accom-


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEplishment. He devoted his life to theattainment of his three

objects,or in the

justexpression of his brother, what he said besideRossa's grave had been his inmost faith sincechildhood. Again, when the Volunteermovement had absorbed him he used todeclare that before he had taken to the nobletrade of arms he was a mere harmless literaryNationalist as his enemies well knew. Hespoke more truly when he told a literarysociety at eighteen that he was an enthusiastand gloried in being one. Development maybe traced in his writings, but no essentialchange. Essentially it was the same Pearsewho stood in Kilmainham jail yard as hewho had started upon the study of CanonO'Leary's Seadna twenty years before in aback room in Dame Street.No more characteristic and frequent notewas struck by Pearse than the uncompro-mising Separatist note. The growth of hispolitical ideals is a useful study when wewish to avoid confusion of aims and methods.Pearse was always a Separatist, a Republican,and an advocate of physical force. A loverof paradox might say with some showof reason that Pearse was consistently a

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEmoderate and a revolutionist. He alwaysbelieved in an ultimate

appeal to arms,claiming that no subject nation had wonfreedom otherwise, with the solitary excep-tion of Norway, where the threat of forcehad been implied. For a long while heheld the Irish people should accept anymeasure of Home Rule which guaranteedthe national integrity, and use it as a steptowards complete independence. There-fore as editor of An Claidheamh Soluis hehad urged the acceptance of the IrishCouncils Bill. In 1912, not a hundredyards away from the General Post Officein O'Connell Street, he spoke from the sameplatform as Mr. Joseph Devlin, and contendedthat Nationalists of all shades of opinionshould follow Mr. Redmond in his agitationas far as he went, but not stop there. InAn Barr Buadh^ a political and literaryweekly in Irish, which he edited about thesame time, he sets forth this programmeplainly, saying he stood for militant actionin the event of British politicians provingas

procrastinatingand as elusive as usual.He has been quoted as saying, " If they

trick us again I will lead an insurrection1 1


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEmyself," and that was his mood. In AnBarr Buadh he preaches the doctrine thatall government rests on force, actual orpotential, a note which appears hence-forward more and more in his speechesand essays. Towards the end I once heardhim declare with passion he would try thenational issue out with those same politiciansif he had to march and fight with only hisstudents to back him. In passing, onemay note he had few doubts as regards hisstudents. To tell the trjuth, he was ratherconcerned for a moment by the martialactivities of some dozen of them duringEaster 1916. He showed as much by hismanner, to be promptly reassured, forP. H. Pearse was no ghoulish monomaniacwho sacrificed his students without a thought,nor would he have had it said of him that he*' dragged " his boys into an insurrection.He would have wished them rebels, nomore or no less than he wished the peopleof Ireland. Sanctity of conscience andindividual freedom were as sacred watch-words to him as love of country. Hedetested the little tyrannies which make,as he said, " Thou shalt not " half the law

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEof Ireland, and the other half, "Thou must."Certain London newspapers have wept overthe fate of forty little boys marching outto meet the British army at full strength.Mr. Shane Leslie in an article where poetryrather than truth predominates, informs usthat Pearse told him he meant to lead theSt. Enda

boysinto rebellion some fine

day.Pearse, indeed, was always willing to discussinsurrections with anyone, the subject beingvery near to his heart, but to confuse theschoolmaster with the politician is a grievouserror. When irate British critics have askedwhether Pearse had the right

"to train thesons of others to be mad martyrs," it has

not been easy for us who knew Pearse torefrain from smiling. For we knew hisconscientiousness and remembered him sor-rowfully admitting Thomas MacDonagh's" Begad, that's consistent," was right whena past pupil of both had departed for thewars. Pearse did not indoctrinate his boyswith revolutionary doctrines. Freedom ineducation was his steadfast dogma, and hetrained up neither little tin soldiers norlittle jingos nor little cowards. As for theforty little boys, they have not been born yet !

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEWhen I first came in contact with Pearse,

he was of the opinion that the youngergeneration should concentrate on industrial,language and Irish Ireland movementsimbued with a fighting spirit and waitingtheir chance. He saw no other teachingin history than the way of the sword, orability

and readiness, at least, to use thesword when necessary or where opportunityoffered. Ten years of this programme andhe prophesied revolution. Despite all thishe was alive and very candid as regardsdifficulties and possibilities. I have knownhim to admit in argument that a HomeRule Bill might conceivably make Ireland(to quote his own adjectives) smug, con-tented and loyal, that his opponents couldadvance powerful arguments for the nation'sremaining within the British Empire, thatan insurrectionary programme presentedformidable and depressing difficulties. Forhimself, he was prepared and strove to facethese. He could understand the case forcompromise, but personally rejected it. Asan instance, when discussing the now muchmooted question of Colonial Home Rule, heaverred that had he ever a voice in rejecting


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEor accepting such proposals, he would casthis vote with the noes, not considering,however, the action of those who championedsuch a scheme as in any wise dishonourable.Afterwards he summed up his mental attitudeas that peaceful frame of mind common tomen who never compromise, and the phraseis singularly felicitous."We have no misgivings, no self-question-ings. While others have been doubting,timorous, ill at ease, we have been serenelyat peace with our consciences. The recenttime of soul-searching had no terrors for us.We saw our path with absolute clearness ;we took it with absolute deliberateness.


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEpassionate condemnation of his politicalopponents, but invariably excludes personalinvective, preferring to deal with principlesrather than with men. Even here hebelieved in "courtesy upon all occasions."He would speak with restraint of the IrishParliamentary Party, admitting the indict-ment of some of the members current inSinn Fein circles, but adding unfailingly,Nil cuid aca ro-dhona mar dhaoinibh. Implac-able as regards principles he scorned toimpute motives to persons as such. InAmerica when asked an opinion of Mr.Redmond's reasons for his attitude towardsthe war, he replied that he did not know, andrefused to judge the man. In GHOSTSPearse wrote his real indictment of the Par-liamentarians with an eloquent and bitterdignity, proclaims that the men who haveled Ireland for twenty-five years are bankruptin policy, in credit, even in words, andwonders whether the ghost of Parnell ishaunting them to damnation. But the maincount in the indictment is that which accusesthem of regarding nationality as a negotiablething rather than a spiritual thing. Thesentence in one of his speeches beginning :

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSE"I believe them honest, but they have sat solong at English feasts," is a fair example ofhis views and methods.The Volunteer movement arrived to findPearse awaiting it the greater part of hislife. If to the rank and file of that movementhe was its spirit incarnate, to him the Volun-teers were his ideas which had taken arms.His fierce advocacy of armed force camefrom his philosophy of life, but an Irelandof talkers and its effect in disgusting him hadits share in his manner, at least, of expressinghis admiration for the strong man armed.Some of his more caustic expressions wereevoked by Ireland's attitude during the SouthAfrican war, and bore indeed a startlingsimilarity to the views of the late Mr.Joseph Chamberlain on the same subject.The great Imperialist had said that the Irishwere very good as far as sympathy for theBoers and hurling insults at England went,but there the noise ended, nor was therecourage enough among them all to raise evena riot. Which would have appealed toPearse as a very sapient and true remark.To quote his own summary of the case :"A nice figure we cut during the Boer war !

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEWe talked. Assuming our warlike declara-tions were seriously intended, what preventedus chasing the British garrison, small boysand militia men, out of the country ? "But Pearse was interested in other thingsbeside the noble trade of arms, in the Irishlanguage, for instance, and first and alwaysin the whole men and women of Ireland.Turn to his ideals for the Irish language,his second great enthusiasm and inspiration.For his ideal was Ireland not free merelybut Gaelic as well. His exploitation byseveral well-meaning but badly-informedcritics in Great Britain and America as anAnglo-Irish celebrity is an amusing butgrave misrepresentation. Indeed it shouldmake him turn in his grave. His life-workwill never be understood so long as it isignored that the sources of his inspirationlay in the traditions handed down from theSagas, the despair and militancy of the dis-possessed Gael as voiced in his poetry, thesimple and religious outlook of those self-contained communities remote from themanners and customs of the Pale upon theConnacht sea-board. In Sgoil Eanna, hedid his best to make a younger Ireland

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSE*' Gaelic as well," and made Irish as mucha living language as is possible when thehome language of the majority happened tobe English. Upon an average he gave hisstudents a good working knowledge of thelanguage within a year. Irish was theofficial school language, and to such anextent did Pearse speak in Irish only

to thestaff as well as to the pupils that I cancount upon my fingers the number of timesI held long conversations with him inEnglish. When he heard one of his mastersspeaking to a visitor in English upon acertain occasion he did not recognize thevoice ! His method of making Irish theofficial language was the simple expedientof speaking it until sheer force of repetitionmade the new language familiar. " Cearde?"he would ask with bewilderment the new-comer who addressed him in English, toenjoy with huge secret amusement, a fewmonths later, that dumb new-comer flourish-ing with great self-assurance the vocabularyand favourite phrases of his instructor.

Rightly or wrongly one gets anotherview in Thomas MacDonagh's LITERATUREIN IRELAND Pearse's whole mental attitude

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEwas antagonistic to Anglo-Irish literature.The very words Anglo-Irish he detested anddenied their validity, although, unlike certainperfervid propagandists, his knowledge of thework of Irish men and women was as appre-ciative and as exact as his knowledge ofEnglish literature itself. Next to the TainBo Chuailgne^ which he read with the careand attention most of us read newspapers, hisfavourite author was Shakespeare, innumer-able editions of whom had an honouredplace on his book-shelves. His admirationfor Yeats was profound and cordial. InJ. M. Synge he recognized a genius whohad made Ireland's name considerable in theeyes of the world. Nor was he slow todefend Synge in circles where the latter'sworks were disparaged for miserable propa-gandist reasons. But speaking generally,Pearse practised bilingualism to the detri-ment of the English language in Ireland,working and striving for the final battlebetween the two languages. Nor wouldhis side in such a conflict have ever beenin doubt for a moment. Your Anglo-Irishwriters, he contended, brought only fameto English literature and could never be

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEtrue representatives of Irish literature. Aspecial niche might be set apart for themin English literature, it is true, but at thebest they only retarded the rise of a litera-ture in Irish ; at the worst they forwardedthe most subtle of English conquests : themental conquest. Pearse no more questionedthat the language of the Irish nation shouldbe Irish than he would have questioned theexistence of God.

As a Gaelic League propagandist, Pearsewas a great and effective exemplar. Likehis fellow-worker, Thomas MacDonagh, towhom the Gaelic League had also been asa light from heaven, Pearse envisaged all thedifficulties in any enterprise he undertook.Neither of them ever indulged in flamboyantprophecies that " in five years we shall all-speak Irish." Pearse said with pride

thatthe regeneration of the Ireland we knowbegan when the Gaelic League began, addedthat Ireland would die when the languagedied, but he realized superhuman effortswere needed to prevent a further decay. Inhis own caustic and characteristic phrase hewas singularly moderate in his aspirationsand methods. He would merely have the

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEIrish people, and not the human race, learnIrish and speak it. So fine an example didhe set them that Thomas MacDonaghexclaimed Pearse was killing himself byinches, but such men made movements.Those whose patriotic enthusiasm promptedthem to master and apply Irish, Pearsebelieved, would count more in the language'sultimate preservation than the native speaker.Eventually he grew convinced that only anIrish Government could save the Irishlanguage. The salvation of the Irish languagehe would have regarded as the first duty ofan Irish Government. Perhaps he wouldhave said that any actual Irish Governmentmight very well thank the Language move-ment that it ever came to be. For allsubsequent movements of his day he claimedhad received their baptism of grace in theGaelic League. The growth of Englishamong the children in the parts of theGaeltacht he knew best he had cycledand tramped through every Irish-speakingdistrict in his time he regarded as thebeginning of the end unless a miracleintervened. In one particular sense, hecame to believe the Gaelic League had failed

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEin its purpose. He understood that the bestnon-native speaker rarely mastered Irish ashe conceivably might have mastered Frenchor German. Pearse might have been grimlysceptical as a schoolmaster of the latterpossibility. His own Irish works standamong the classics of modern Irish literature,a non-native speaker whose pseudonym onceled an ardent critic to declare that here wasa veritable native speaker and Gaelic mindexpressing itself in literature beyond ashadow of doubt. Pearse meant, how-ever, that the cause of this comparativefailure was to be sought in the lines thelanguage movement had started, not inany deficiency of the learner or thelanguage. The idea occurs once in anopen letter to Dr. Hyde in An BarrBuadh. Pearse would

arguethat had the

revivalists made the Irish-speaking districtsthe home of living ideas, democratic,religious or political, had there been morerebels in the best sense and less grammariansin the worst, to spread a propaganda from theGaeltacht outwards, to make the Gaeltachtthe home of living ideas instead of makingthe cities centres of linguistic enthusiasm,

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEprogress would have been more rapid andresults more permanent. Not that Pearseever faltered in his allegiance to the IrelandGaelic as well as free. Irish was our ownlanguage, and there the matter ended, mightwell sum up his attitude. Certainly, hewrote, when an inevitable development drovehim to other activities, "I have come to theconclusion that the Gaelic League, as theGaelic League, is a spent force, and I amglad of it. I do not mean that no workremains for the Gaelic League, or that theGaelic League is no longer equal to work;I mean that the vital work to be done in thenew Ireland will not be done so much by theGaelic League itself as by men or movementsthat have sprung from the Gaelic League, orhave received from the Gaelic League a newbaptism or a new lease of life. The GaelicLeague was no mere weed shaken by thewind, no vox clamantis : it was a prophetand more than a prophet. But it wasnot the Messiah." An Claidheamh Soluis^November 8, 1913. Yet he added that hehad spent the best part of his life teachingand working for the idea that the languageis an essential part of the nation, nor had he

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ever modified that attitude. In the movementto which he had given the best years of hislife he had found not philology, not folk-lorenor literature alone, but the Irish nation.A new vision came to him. Henceforwardhis mind and deeds were given to a militantnational movement.The preceding sketch of Pearse's idealsis but an outline, for who can call up againthe complete Pearse, the Man called Pearse,except, perhaps, his words alone ?

I have squandered the splendid years :Lord, if 1 had the years I would squander them

over again,Aye, fling them from me !For this 1 have heard in my heart, that a manshall scatter, not hoard,

Shall do the deed of to-day, nor take thoughtof to-morrow's teen,Shall not bargain or huxter with God ; or was

it a jest of Christ'sAnd is this my sin before men, to have takenHim at His word ?Lord, I have staked my soul, I have staked the

lives of my kinOn the truth of Thy dreadful word. Do notremember my failures,But remember this my faith.

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CHAPTER IITHE THREE WISHES OF

P. H. PEARSEIn a sentence this is the biography ofP. H. Pearse : he accomplished what hewished to accomplish. An Claidheamh Soluis^

Sgoil Eanna, the Irish Volunteers, these werethe three works, the three monuments heleft behind him. In the preceding chapterwe have written of Pearse's ideals ; we pro-pose now to tell briefly the main facts of hiscareer, and can find no more pithy summarythan the declaration he often made to hisrelatives and friends. Repeatedly from themoment I first came to know him well Iheard him say that he had resolved threethings should be placed to his credit beforehe died. He wished to edit a bilingualnewspaper, to found a bilingual secondaryschool, to start a revolution. A nobleambition moved him. That great saying ofCuchulainn, emblazoned around a fresco inCullenswood House, found an echo in the

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEthree wishes of Pearse : Bee a brig Horn sinsa gen go rabar acht oenld ocus oenadaig ar bithacht go mardt niairscela ocus niimthechta dimmesi. " I care not though I were to live butone day and one night if only my fame andmy deeds live after me."

Patrick Henry Pearse was born lothNovember, 1879, at 27 Great BrunswickStreet, Dublin, where his father, James Pearse,an Englishman, for long had his place ofbusiness as a sculptor. James Pearse had aprofound love of art, literature, and an evenmore profound love offreedom. As a sculptorhe was judged to wield a distinctive chisel,and his work, instinct with high imaginationand beauty is scattered in many pieces ofecclesiastical architecture throughout Ireland.Of his father Pearse was wont to speak withgreat

affection and reverence, adding in hishumorous way: " Ni raibh se ro-dhona marShasanach!" James Pearse was, indeed, oneof those Englishmen whose love of libertydid not exclude Ireland. A Radical, henumbered many fighters for freedom amongsthis closest personal friends, English and Irish.He wrote a pamphlet, ENGLAND'S DUTY TOIRELAND, AS IT APPEARS TO AN ENGLISHMAN,

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEflaming with bitter scorn and contempt inreply to a certain pseudo-Irish, pseudo-Catholic, Dr. Maguire of Trinity, who hadchosen to revive some ancient catchcries andpolitical legends to defame the Parnellitemovement. So effective a reply was JamesPearse's pamphlet that it was quoted trium-phantly from platform and pulpit throughoutthe country.

P. H. Pearse never allowed his hatred ofBritish government in Ireland to extend topersonal animosity against individual English-men as such. His writings are the last wordin common-sense upon that singularly barrencontroversy as to whether love or hate shouldbe the motive-force of Irish patriotism.Unfortunately for certain of Pearse's critics,those writings would seem to be so manyblank pages to them. In general, he watchedEnglishmen closely and greeted them politely.When he met those rare Englishmen whowere such friends of freedom as his fatherhad been, he appreciated them cordially.From their father the Brothers Pearseundoubtedly inherited that deep sympathyfor art, literature, and every struggling cause.From their mother, whose people came from

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSECounty Meath with memories of struggleand sacrifice from '98 onward, they receivedtheir love of Ireland, her traditions, herhistory, her august and sorrowful past. OfPearse's affection for his mother it is unneces-sary to write, since he himself has left it in apathetic and imperishable record. In hisyouth

Pearse is said to have been a dreamer,above all a student, rarely playing games,and lost in his books. He commenced hiseducation in a private school at WentworthPlace, Dublin, kept by a Mrs. Murphy..He afterwards became a brilliant Intermediatestudent in the Christian Brothers' Schools,Westland Row, subsequently teaching there.From the age of twelve the Irish languageappealed to him, and he assiduously com-menced its study. The truest of his teachers,perhaps the most telling influence in his life,he informs us in An Macaomh, was "a kindlygrey-haired seanchaidhe, a woman of mymother's people," who told him tales by thefireside when he was a boy. From her heheard many an old Irish tale, ballad andlegend, many a tale of Wexford, Limerick,of Tone, Rossa, Emmet, Napoleon, thoseheroes of his boyhood. From her he heard

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEIrish first spoken in the recitation of anOssianic lay. Later he procured the grammarand texts issued by the Society for the Preser-vation of the Irish Language; in due coursehe found his way into a backroom in DameStreet, and started to study Canon O'Leary'sSeadna under the supervision of its reverendauthor. His close study of Irish gave himthat mastery over it which later was to makehim one of the great Irish writers of to-day.He steeped his mind in the heroic literatureof the Fionn and Cuchulainn cycles. Heacquired a wide and first-hand knowledge ofIrish folk-lore, prose and poetry, foundingthe New Ireland Literary Society when hewas just seventeen to spread the glad tidingsof his discoveries to the barbarians. Hispresidential addresses to the society werepublished in book form in 1898 as THREEESSAYS ON GAELIC TOPICS.

Before he was twenty-four he had gra-duated in the Royal University, beenappointed Irish lecturer in the CatholicUniversity College under the Reverend Dr.Delaney, S.J., gained his B.A. and B.L.degrees, and became editor of the GaelicLeague official organ An Claidheamh Soluis.

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEFor several years after his father's death hewas the chief support of his family, andadded the superintendence of the BrunswickStreet business to these other tasks. It isproper to remark that he never flourishedhis barrister's wig and gown, indeed he hadalways a dislike for the legal profession,dubbing it as " the most wicked of all pro-fessions," and admiring Tone for his "gloriousfailure at the bar," his contempt for " thefoolish wig and gown."

Into the Gaelic League he threw himselfwith a whole-hearted enthusiasm, and drankdeeply of his first great inspiration. Aseditor of An Claidheamh So/uis^ his firstambition was fulfilled. Valuable series ofarticles on education, especially in itsbilingual aspects, appeared in the columns ofthe paper while he was editor. His ModhDireach lessons have been since republishedas An Sgoi/^ and were the basis of the systemof language teaching he afterwards appliedand amplified in St. Enda's. A tour inBelgium, where he studied that country'slanguage problem and educational systemclosely, supplied him with abundant materialand observation which has left ere now a

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSElasting mark on Irish schools. Poll anPhiobaire (or An Uaimh as he renamed it),an adventure story for boys, and the storiesafterwards reprinted as losagdn, belong tothese years. Nor must his carefully-editededitions of the old Fenian tales Eodach AnChota Lachtna and Eruidheann Chaorthainn beforgotten. He loathed slovenliness in speechor work. A bad or careless edition of aGaelic text would move him to wrath. Heset in this, as in all else, a noble headline toworkers in the field of Irish literature. Heworked out his educational theories duringhis editorship, and never wavered in hisconviction that bilingualism in languageteaching in Ireland was the real path to thesalvation of the Irish language in the Irish-speaking districts. The utter exclusion ofEnglish from the Gaeltacht he characterizedas fatuous. The problem confronting theGaelic League was, he saw, to restore Irishas a living medium of daily intercourse tothe six-seventh English-speaking parts ofthe country. He did not believe thatBelgian methods were quite applicable toIrish conditions. Irish, in an efficient andunhampered educational system, he held

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEshould be used as the language of instructionin districts where it was the home language,and English as a second language taught asa second language. Where English was bynecessity the first language, he advocateda compulsory second language, which inthe vast majority of cases would be inevitablyIrish, used too, unlike English in the Gael-tacht, as a medium of instruction from thefirst. In all details of programmes, hedesiderated the fullest autonomy for schools.In the MURDER MACHINE he sketches anorganization scheme for any future IrishMinistry of Education, based more or lessupon his observations in Belgium. In AnClaidheamh Soluis he conducted a persistentagitation for Irish as a " teaching language"in primary schools. He determined to putinto practice the old Gaelic ideals in a schoolthat " should be an Irish school in a sensenot dreamed or known in Ireland since theFlight of the Earls."

In Sgoil Eanna his dream became a reality.He has left on record its realization inTHE STORY OF A SUCCESS. During the firstsix months of the school he continued toedit the Gaelic League organ. St. Enda's

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSECollege opened first in Cullenswood House,Oakley Road, Ranelagh, Dublin. Itsprospectus, distinguished by the wonderfulliterary charm the author impressed uponthe simplest thing he ever wrote, proclaimeda determination to create a revolution inIrish secondary education upon bilinguallines. The purpose and scope of the schoolwas announced as " the providing of anelementary and secondary education of ahigh type for Irish-speaking boys, and forboys not Irish-speaking whom it is desiredto educate on bilingual lines." Pearse'sreal purpose was to revive the educationsystem not of a class but of a people. Hetook off his hat to the ancient Gaelas being a better democrat in his schoolsystem than any modern community. "Ourvery divisions into primary, secondary anduniversity crystallize a snobbishness partlyintellectual and partly social," he said, andin his moral instructions to his studentsranked snobbery as a vice slightly below theSeven Deadly Sins. Sgoil Eanna was asuccess. He revived an ancient

systemand

permeated the school with a Gaelic atmos-phere, giving his pupils that hardening and

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEinspiration he desired, although some ofthem did not

perceivethis until their Head-

master had died. Visitors to Sgoil Eannaremarked an indefinable something in theair of the place, and said they would everafterwards recognize a St. Enda pupil any-where. The central purpose of the school,to quote Pearse in his prospectus, announc-ing what he afterwards did with incrediblesuccess, was the formation of character, "theeliciting and development of the individualtraits and bents of each ; the kindling oftheir imaginations ; the giving them an aimand interest in life ; the placing before themof a high standard of conduct and duty ; ina word, the training up of those entrustedto its care to be in the first place, strongand noble and useful men, and in the second,devoted sons of their motherland." Wideand generous culture, modern methods, aparticular reference to the needs of to-day,based upon a national and heroic traditionsuch were Sgoil Eanna's aims ; such wereits subsequent achievements. Two yearslater the school was transferred to the Her-mitage, Rathfarnham. And Pearse hadaccomplished two of the three things he

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEhad planned and resolved to accomplish.He now worked on until the Irish Volun-teers and a European war arrived to findthat he had long awaited their coming.In November 1913 he made a powerfuland remarkable speech at the inception ofthe Irish Volunteers in the Rotunda Rink,Dublin. He had long regarded the prevalentindifference to what passed for politics as asign of decadence, however excusable. ToSir Edward Carson, Pearse paid the compli-ment of crediting the bellicose knight withnot believing everything he said. " A lawyerwith a price" he called him, and left thematter there. But he rejoiced that theNorth had began, and held that the rest ofIreland had no right to sneer at the Orange-men, " whose rifles give dignity even totheir

folly." He became a member of theoriginal Provisional Committee of the IrishVolunteers an enthusiastic and untiringorganizer, and was elected Director ofOrganization. He strongly opposed theentrance of Mr. Redmond's nominees tothe Provisional Committee, becoming moreand more a leading spirit in the counsels andactivities of the Irish Volunteers after the

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEsplit. He spoke on innumerable platformsthroughout the country

andsurpassed

him-self in his great O'Donovan Rossa orationat the historic and imposing funeral of thedead Fenian. Definitely he had turned nowto the last work of his life, and his politicalinterests grew more absorbing than ever.More and more to the public he appearedas the Republican leader. But even herethere was no real change. In FROM AHERMITAGE, a reprint of a series of articleswhich ran in IRISH FREEDOM from June 1913to January 1914, Pearse tells us how he haddetermined upon again attempting to initiatea militant political movement. An BarrEuadh and Cumann na Saoirse in 1912, hadbeen an attempt before the time was ripe.In a later chapter I shall describe at morelength the too little-known experiment of1913. Pearse had long contemplated an" armed Republican movement," but did notforsee the precise form it would take. HadSir Edward Carson never taken to arms inUlster, Pearse would have gone ahead withhis militant movement. To every generationits appointed deed he said in 1913, and pro-phesied that the multitudinous activity of

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEorganizations, political, labour and language,would meet yet in an Irish revolution.

Pearse's visit to America in the earlymonths of 1914 made a profound impressionupon him. He went there on a lecturingtour to raise funds for his college. Heencountered the flotsam and jetsam of twogenerations' Irish movements. For JohnDevoy, Pearse had a deep admiration andaffection ; I have heard him speak of fewother men in terms of such unstinted praise.His admiration for the survivors of the Fenianmovement he met in the States was aslively. "There are no such men in Irelandto-day," he told us. How DOES SHE STAND ?belongs to this American visit, and recordsPearse's admiration for Devoy, and his owngrowing militant determination. In an adden-dum, August 1 9 1 4, to the pamphlet he writes:"A European war has brought about a crisiswhich may contain as yet hidden within itthe moment for which the generations havebeen waiting. It remains to be seen whether,if that moment reveals itself, we shall havethe sight to see and the courage to do, orwhether it shall be written of this generation,alone of all the generations of Ireland, that

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEit had none among it who dared to make theultimate sacrifice." Pearse has told us howin his youth he had walked hill and glen tofind the Fenians drilling in the moonlight,but alas ! to find them never. Ireland dreadedwar and insurrection, it seemed to Pearse,because she had not known them for years,and he earnestly believed the national spiritof Ireland was in danger of death. Theearly developments in Ireland during thefirst stages of the war profoundly depressed,horrified him, and intensified his convictionthat the national consciousness of Ireland wason the point of extinction. The service ofhis country had become the one passion ofhis life, and he cared nothing for honours,fame, nor, even as he had sighed for at times,tranquillity among his books. Many menhave been as superb rhetoricians as Pearse,perhaps as human, as generous, as kindly; itis certain that few men have passed fromthought to action with so deadly a thorough-ness and sincerity. Fate brought him intothe company of comrades who also were ofthe temper to back words with deeds.

During the Rising, Pearse acted as Com-mander-in-Chief to the Republican forces.39


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEHe was elected President of the ProvisionalGovernment. He established his head-quarters in the General Post Office, and wasthe last to leave when fire drove out thedefenders. It is impossible to give an ideaof Pearse's bearing in that last scene, hiscalmness, his decision, his bravery, his carefor the wounded, his humanity and regardfor what are termed the courtesies of war.O'Rahilly was to him the most heroic ofmen. "Ah !" he said to me, "what a fineman O'Rahilly is, coming in here to usalthough he is against this thing." From1 6 Moore Street, Pearse entered into nego-tiations for surrender with General Lowe,impelled by humanitarian and politicalmotives. He was satisfied that Ireland'shonour had been vindicated by a protest inarms, and he desired to save the lives ofDublin citizens. Tried by courtmartial, hewas executed on May 3, 1916. Neitherhis brother, mother or sister saw him beforehis execution, but we know well how he feltin those last hours. A soldier's death forIreland and freedom; he would have chosenthat death of all deaths had God offered himthe choice. Chivalrous, charitable, noble

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEwas the spirit of this man when he realizedthe end had come. The most bitter personalcontroversy aroused by Easter Week he dis-missed in one phrase in his message to theoutside world when the bombardment of thePost Office was in full progress, and theRising's duration a matter of hours : "BothEoin MacNeill and we have acted in thebest interests of Ireland." Shortly afterwardsthe Three Wishes of P. H. Pearse belongedto history.

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CHAPTER IIIAS .WE KNEW HIM

The ballads have wisely left Pearse to theangels and to the hearts of his countrymen.For the moment we prefer not to leavePearse entirely to angels, and certainly notto picture postcard artists who, whateverelse they may have done, have not captureda glimpse of the magnetic and humanpresence still vivid in our memories. Hehas written of Tone, that " this man's soulwas a burning flame, a flame so ardent, sogenerous, so pure, that to come into com-munion with it is to come unto a newbaptism, unto a new regeneration, a newcleansing." " Davis' character," he wroteagain, " was such as the Apollo Belvedereis said to be in the physical order in hispresence men stood more erect." In ourexperience these words had a literal andpersonal application to him who wrote them.We might add the adjective of an English-man who spent an evening's argument in

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEPearse's company : " Ah ! that is the mostpersuasive man I have ever met." Thegreatness of Pearse was to be found in hissincerity, his absorbing enthusiasms, hishumanity, and certainly in his power ofconvincing and moving others. He hadlearned early what he would persuade hisfellow-mortals to do; primarily, he persuadedby example. In this chapter we propose torecall some pictures of the man as we knewhim.

In 1909, the headmaster of Sgoil Eannawas more in evidence than the writer andthe revolutionary who appeared more andmore in the public view in the years1913-1916. Unforeseen circumstances andan amazing personal development have leftsince then an enigmatical personality forpresent-day Ireland to understand. Theschoolmaster (all talk about "schoolmasters'insurrections " notwithstanding) has beencontrasted with the revolutionary. To haveknown him in Sgoil Eanna is to questionsuch a contrast. We never saw a reallydifferent man, but watched the developmentof the one and same individuality, coming,let us hope, unto a new baptism, standing

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEcertainly more erect in his presence. Hehimselfwith great glee and quiet satisfactionwould inform us that in his youth he hadbeen "a bit of a prig," and subsequently "adangerous man." But it seems to me thatthere was no essential change. He alwayssaid the same things, believed the samethings, worked for the same things. In thelast years of his life he perhaps spoke andacted with a deeper intensity and a moresplendid coherence, but that was all. Norwhen one remembers how a Gaelic Leagueor political gathering would carry him outof himself, how eagerly his eyes would flashand his whole figure be lighted up withanimation, is that final splendour in wordand deed surprising. He neither drank norsmoked, detesting both these vices, especiallythe latter, but the strong wine of his enthu-siasms kindled in him a very spiritualintoxication, evident to even a casualobserver.

Sgoil Eanna's golden days were the firsttwo years. We saw Pearse then more asa schoolmaster than we ever saw him after-wards. Although, thanks to his abnormalenergy, he could carry through several

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSElarge undertakings simultaneously, he wasaccustomed to concentrate upon one thingat a time. He brought Sgoil Eanna throughits most serious financial crisis and editedAn Earr Euadh all at the height of oneschool session. In the spare moments whichSgoil Eanna and the Volunteer movementcombined allowed him, he wrote some ofhis most profound and most delicate storiesand poems. An Uaimh (as he renamed Pollan Phiobaire), losagdn^ all his plays, hiscarefully edited versions of Irish texts,belong to periods of his life, when thecalls upon his time would have staggeredmost men. But it was characteristic ofhim to concentrate upon one thing ; onething to him included every conceivableaspect of that thing. In 1914-1916 heconcentrated upon the Irish Volunteers, andended by proclaiming the Irish Republic.From 1908 to 1913 he concentrated uponSgoil Eanna and saved Irish education." My name in the heart of a child ! "He has declared a memory, a resolve in thehearts of one of the least of his pupils werea sufficient recompense and justification forhis " gallant adventure " in Cullenswood

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEHouse and the Hermitage. It would bepossible to exhaust all the tricks of rhetoricor the flourishes of eloquence and not expresswhat this headmaster came almost from thefirst day to mean to his pupils. He wonour sympathies and affections. He clothedearth and sea, above all Irish earth and sea,for a thousand years with a new light for us.He made Irish a living language, and Irelanda noble land for us. He kindled new pur-poses and gave new meanings to our lives.In the fire of his personality he could makeplatitudes live again. "Never be mediocre,"he would tell us, " do your best." " Donothing you would not do before the wholeworld." " Faith without works is dead,"and these things, as he said and lived them,set us aflame. Pearse had a great love andpride for his students. He recognized inthem a tremendous loyalty and affection forhimself. Four of his ex-students stoppedhim upon the Rathfarnham road one eveningto inform him that they had heard a rumourhe was to be arrested that evening on hisway home, produced lethal weapons, andinsisted on guarding him to the Hermitage.In times of peace, the story was the same.


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSE"You were the best band of comrades I everhad," he told his earlier pupils during thesevere financial crisis when it was doubtfulwhether the school would re-open. "I wastold my school would not last four months;it has lasted four years, but if it closedto-morrow I believe my pupils have learnedwhat I wished to teach them." Pearscinvariably accepted a boy's word as true. Ifhe accused a boy wrongly he apologized tohim. In several cases, when he had acceptedpupils' statements, in spite of strong circum-stantial evidence to the contrary, he wasgratified to find subsequently that his trusthad not been misplaced. His very presencewas the discipline of the school, while I amsure few schoolmasters have ever receivedso many confidences from their students.Pearse was a born teacher. His expositionof any subject was always vivid, clear,concentrated and energetic, arousing newinterests, and opening up new vistas to thelisteners. There was naturally a pronouncedpersonal note in his teaching. It was amoral and intellectual stimulus to come underthe influence of such a master. He did notwish to turn out so many replicas of himself,

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEhis opinions and prejudices. It is significantthat none of his pupils came to have anidentical outlook upon life to his own,although they have had, one and all, some-thing of a philosophy in common, togetherwith a great reverence for their master. Asa headmaster, then, let him describe hismethod and achievement. " I dwell uponthe importance of the personal element ineducation. I would have every child notmerely a unit in a school attendance, but insome intimate personal way the pupil of ateacher, or, to use more expressive words,the disciple of a master. And I here nowisecontradict another position of mine, that themain object of education is to help the childto be his true and best self. What theteacher should bring to his pupil is not aset of ready-made opinions, or a stock ofcut-and-dried information, but an inspirationand an example ; and his main qualificationshould be, not such an overmastering willas shall impose itself at all hazards upon allweaker wills that come under its influence,but rather so infectious an enthusiasm asshall kindle new enthusiasm." THE MURDERMACHINE, p. 12.


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEP. H. Pearse had certainly a very power-

ful will, and that will was invariably madeup, but he remained very open to argumentand persuasion. Deputations of his pupilsto demand a holiday for some specialoccasion well remember his affable andlaughing surrenders to them. Upon certainsubjects, political and religious, he adopteda very decided attitude, held them asdogmas, and made those who were rashenough to argue the matter out, feel ratherfoolish with his emphatic " No, it's not so;it's not so." Within the charmed circle ofhis pupils' confidence and friendship, heentered from the first day he knew them.A hundred pictures of him persist as theheadmaster of Sgoil Eanna. Now as hespoke, a slow and deliberate figure from therostrum to tell us the story of Fionn orCuchulainn, or past efforts to gain inde-pendence with hope and prophecy of similarefforts to come. Again, as he strode downthe hurling field, his black gown flying inthe wind, to encourage the Sgoil Eannaplayers to beat some hostile team and endwith the traditional Sgoil Eanna threeshouts of welcome.


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEIn July 1915 I spent a month's holidaywith P. H. Pearse and his brother in Ros-

muck, County Galway, the part of theGaeltacht that he knew best. It lies tenmiles westward of the nearest railwaystation, connected with the outer world bya telephone only, in the midst of the hillsof lar-Connacht, dominated by the TwelvePins in the distance. The first hush ofcreation has fallen over the place. Fewtravellers come along the winding roadswhich lead towards it. A schoolhouse anda police barracks represent its largest col-lection of dwellings, the rest are scatteredfar and wide over the bog-land and heatherslopes beneath the changeful skies. " Con-nacht of the bogs and lakes," the wordsfit the scene, and here, near a wayside lake,Pearse had his cottage. Across the fifty-acre expanse of water which is his lake, thewhite thatched oblong building with itsgreen door in a porchway and two win-dows in front looms from its elevation atthe two outposts of civilization beyond.Behind the Atlantic roars. Before eveningshades into nightfall, the orange and redsof marvellous sunsets glimmer upon the

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSElime-white walls of the small dwelling, thebluish hills afar sink to a sombre purple.Curious patterns in daytime shape them-selves across the skies, clouds hover abovethe hilltops, descend and roll up again.These empyrean phantasies are reflected withstartling clearness in the waters below.Behind stretch bog and hillside, acrosswhich sweeps the vigorous breeze from seaand mountain. Half a mile away the mainroad has sent out an intricate sinuous by-path, springy with its peat-sod surface andforever windswept ; it clambers up to thegate below the cottage.The lake is typical of Connacht's multi-tudinous lakes. Two large islands, rich inplants and vegetation, a peninsula, numeroussmall rocks break the pellucid smoothnessof its surface. As twilight falls on thesmall rocks one understands the Waterhorsetradition claims to inhabit these wafers.Yonder rock peeps suggestively above thelevel, a frown upon its forehead, a gleam inthose crevices, its eyes, as if in very truthit were swimming and about to spring. Afrog or stray lizard leaps from beneath one'sfeet out of the ferns or bilberries. A heron

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEhovers over the water. A rabbit scuttlesaway behind one. The district, rich innatural beauty, is not rich in natural wealth.Fishing, farming upon a rocky soil and nottoo much of that, kelp-making are the mainindustries. Poverty is here, underfeeding,a low personal income ; a desperate battlewith the soil is here, but squalidness andsordidness are absent. Despite all theobstacles hinted at, a self-contained com-munity is here. It builds its own houses,grows its own food, cuts its own fuel, speaksits own language, and leads an isolated lifeof its own. A miniature civilization isevident. Superficial externals, the peculiarlocal dress, the slow melodious Irish greet-ing to the veriest stranger at once confirmsthe impression of a new and unaccustomedsociety. The topography of the district,the lives and souls of the people, the dis-tinctive dialect, were as an open book toPearse, and his reading of them gave uslosagdn and An Mhdthair. Later he regrettedthat he had not dealt more with the sociallife of the people. " None of my storiesdeal with turf," he once remarked whimsi-cally, as if he had discovered a serious


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEgrievance. But there was not a hill or lakeor maam whose name and

history he did notknow. lar-Connacht's roads and soaringpeaks, the hard fight of her people againstbig material odds, the glamour and terror ofthe sea that eats her very shores, the rich,inner life of her people, were all one to him.lar-Connacht's mind and soul he wrote forwide humanity. In his last hours his mindcalled up the barefooted children, the littlewestern towns, the quiet green hills, wherehe had often wandered, lost in some imagi-native reverie.

I went on many journeys with him throughConnacht, and soon learned his love for thedistrict, and how profound a spiritual appealthe Gaeltacht held for him. We visited, inparticular, a village some miles up LoughCorrib, in a castled demense. Heavy mists,small stone walls and houses, card playersclad in frieze, gave us a characteristic glimpse,he said, of Connemara. Here, he continued,the days of hovels at the doors of Seigneurslingered on, a rich spiritual life with poverty,a poor spiritual life with riches, side by side.We walked through the demesne, Pearsesmiling at warning notices and using Irish

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEto melt the hearts of gate and gamekeepers;locks flew open and guns fell before theringing Gaelic salutations. Obviously onlyvery churlish folk could object to an explorerwho blessed them in God's name with an airof decided authority. In the course of ourrambles we once came across a venerable andamiable gentleman, with the air of a retiredcolonel, who remarked the scenery wasdelightful. After a moment's hesitation hepressed two copies of the Gospel accordingto St. John upon us, adding he always broughtdown a trunkfull for the "peasantry" therearound. Pearse longed for a seditious leafletto return as a gift in exchange, and gloatedall the eight miles homeward over thesimplicity of a man who used the word"peasantry " in 1915. He told us of soupers'colonies he had heard of in lar-Connacht,and once, indeed, had been compelled toargue for several hours in a remote cottagewith an elderly gentleman who had belongedto one. The latter insisted upon readingaloud the Bible in Irish, and raising contro-versial points innumerable until his daughterarrived to check Pearse's attempted conver-sion. It would be difficult to over-estimate


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEPearse's love for Cormacht. Every year,after the war-clouds broke over Europe,

here-visited Rosmuck, and was accustomed tobid a last farewell to the bogs and lakes.For he knew he had reached the thresholdof his last adventure, had heard a call toaction he could not ignore.We returned to the city from this holidayupon the eve of O'Donovan Rossa's funeral.The atmosphere, as often in the last five

years, was electric. Pearse was anxious todo justice to the dead Fenian, being verydissatisfied with an article he had writtenabout Rossa some time previously. He wasa superb orator. His rhetoric was nevermeaningless, but precise, cold, kindling, cul-minating in some terrific revelation of thegospel of sacrifice for an ideal. He used topoke fun at his earlier flights, confessingwith a caustic smile, a flushed humorous look," Well, I thought then I was an orator ! "It has been observed, truly enough, that hisconversation gave one the impression ofclear-cut sentences from an essay. Somepeople misunderstood Pearse for this, andfelt amused or uncomfortable in his presence.They did not know how Pearse revelled in

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEthe study of Dublin or American slang.Nor certainly did they understand that hemeant every word he said. Pearse, besideRossa's grave, was a striking figure in hiscommandant's dress, his deliberate andimpassioned delivery, surrounded by menwho agreed with this man who certainlyhad never been so deadly in earnest. Hefully realized his power to sway crowds withhis words. Once, after an exceptionallypowerful and moving address, I heardhim say that he felt every man presentwould have followed him into any enterprisethat very night. It was the same Emmetcentenary address which made Tom Clarkeexclaim, " I never thought there was suchstuff in Pearse!" "Pearse means business,"was the comment passed on his speech tocommemorate the Mitchel centenary in1915. Thomas MacDonagh used to sayjestingly that Pearse had started a school tobe able to make as many speeches as heliked. After some important holiday orschool excursion (generally to some Wicklowglen or among the Dublin hills), we wouldinsist upon, not a speech, but the recitationof " Seamus O'Brien," which after long and

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coercive applause we succeeded in getting.Pearse, to our delight, would lay immenseemphasis upon " the judge was a crabbedold chap," and startle us with the passionhe threw into the lines :Your sabres may clatter, your carbines go bang,But if you want hanging it's yourselves youmust hang !I have described before his farewell speech

to the school. Towards the end he grewmore reserved and gentle in his manner thanusual, revising his writings, and going

onwith his ordinary routine, outwardly at peacewith all men and things. Then came April24th 1916.

Pearse was an active and dominant figureon the ground-floor of the G.P.O., Easter1916. All was dark within on the Wed-nesday evening that I had my last conversa-tion with him. The fires glared in, distantvolleys could be heard in the night, aroundlay men sleeping on the floor, others stoodguard at the windows, peering through thesandbags at the strangest spectacle that menhave ever seen in Dublin. I stood besidehim as he sat upon a barrel, looking intently

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEat the flames, very silent, his slightly-flushedface crowned by his turned-up hat. Sud-denly he turned to me with the very lastquestion that I ever expected to hear fromhim : " It was the right thing to do, wasit not?" he asked curiously. "Yes," Ireplied in astonishment. He gazed back atthe leaping and fantastic blaze and turnedtowardsme more intently. " And if we fail,it means the end of everything, Volunteers,Ireland, all ?" "I suppose so," I replied.He spoke again. " When we are all wipedout, people

will blame us for everything,condemn us. But for this protest, the warwould have ended and nothing wouldhave been done. After a few yearsthey will see the meaning of what we triedto do." He rose, and we walked a fewpaces ahead.

"Dublin's name will beglorious for ever," he said with deep feelingand passion. "Men will speak of her as oneof the splendid cities, as they speak now of

Paris. Dublin ! Paris ! Down along thequays there are hundreds of women helpingus, carrying gelignite in spite of every danger."It was, indeed, fire and death and the begin-ning of the end. Pearse did not falter in

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEthat last adventure. He was one of the mostoccupied men in that dangerous front room,superintending a hundred details, cheeringwounded, and firing ever anew the devotionof his comrades within that furnace. Hislast letter to his mother expresses for all timehis mood when he dared the worst. Hismanifesto from headquarters on the eve ofsurrender was a salute to the courage andgaiety of his followers. He was satisfiedthat Ireland's honour was saved, nor, forhis part, was he "afraid to face the judgmentof God nor the judgment of posterity." Andthat is the answer to the mood wherein weare tempted to grudge Pearse's immolationto his political ideals. But two pictures risebefore us as we do. The first, that gallantcaptain in green, facing serenely a hundreddangers,

and walking as serenely to his death.The second, a remembrance of that head-master, who would have answered with aquick smile and eager gesture, "Ah, impos-sible !" The answer, I dare say, to allsuch moods.

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CHAPTER IVTHE BROTHERS PEARSE

The Brothers Pearse ! A right instinctguides us when we link William Pearse andhis brother in that affectionate phrase whichis no mere sentimental mode of speech, butthe expression of a great fact. Pearse,indeed, has said all there remains to be saidon the matter in a tribute to his brother tobe published in years to come. He saysthere, "Willie and I have shared manysorrows together, and a few deep joys,"adding, furthermore, that Willie is perhapshis only really intimate friend. The lines in"On the Strand of Howth," beginning:

Here in Ireland, am I, my brother,And you far from me in gallant Paris,breathe the same spirit : homage to theartist and friend who helped that leader ofmen more than will be ever

adequatelyrecognized to accomplish his amazing thirty-six years work. Yet William Pearse has

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEbeen sometimes pronounced a victim of cir-cumstances rather than a victim of destinyor a victim of conviction. It has been takenfor granted too readily that he followed hisbrother, and 'twas sad and noble enough inall conscience, but there the matter ends.The matter neither ends nor begins there.

Pearse has demanded in a eulogy of Tone'sintimate friend, Thomas Russell, that where-ever Tone's memory is commemoratedRussell's memory should be honoured also,adding that he ever afterwards loved thevery name of Russell for hearing of Tone'saffection for the man. Future historians,possessed of the full facts of the case, willassuredly apply the spirit of this injunctionto the Brothers Pearse themselves. Thestrongest and most urgent refutation of theview just observed is the record of WilliamPcarse's life. His own words about hisprobable death in an insurrection, which Ihave quoted elsewhere, well represent thenoble temper of the man : " I should notcare. I should die for what I believed.Beyond my work in St. nda's I have no.interest in .life." .Yes, the .Brothers Pearseworshipped at and were -consumed in the


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEsame flame. Lovers of freedom by instincteverywhere, poets

and artists to whom beautyof word and form were a veritable passion,clear-visioned, and singularly disillusioned,for them the desire of Ireland's service wasthe passion of their lives. The vow madein childhood to live and die for Ireland canbe traced to its fulfilment in the lives of both.William Pearse once told me the story ofthat vow in the presence of his brother tothe latter's great amusement.William James Pearse was born Novem-ber 1 5th, 1 88 1, at 27 Great Brunswick Street,Dublin. He was educated at the ChristianBrothers' Schools, Westland Row, consideredby his teachers to be a not very brilliantpupil, but never slapped. He early showeda great natural ability to make his father'sprofession of sculptor his own. It is note-worthy that his father's work, scatteredover churches and public buildings through-out the country, shows, in the opinion ofcompetent judges, profound artistic imagi-nation and skill. About the same time ashe entered his father's studio he became astudent at the Metropolitan School of Art,Dublin, and studied under Oliver Sheppard,

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSER.H.A. In Paris, at a later stage, he pur-sued his art studies. In that city of " lime-white palaces and surging hosts," he reserveda special affection for the quaintness ofcostume, the diversity, the eccentricity andvividness of the student quarters.His career as a sculptor may be describedas brief but successful. At the Dublin andKensington Schools of Art he gained severaldistinctions, while at the Hibernian Academyand elsewhere he exhibited numerous works,mostly studies of children. His first exhi-bited piece of sculpture was shown at theOireachtas Art Exhibition, a nude studyentitled " Eire" : a symbol of young Irelandarising cleansed through the waters of thenew Gaelic inspiration. From the first hewas an ardent Irish-Irelander, mastering theIrish language, wearing Gaelic costume toGaelic League festivals, and at one time ashis ordinary dress, and following the poli-tical movements of the day intently andcritically. During his studentship at theDublin School of Art he conducted an Irishclass there, being a fluent speaker of Irish,although his natural modesty somewhatobscured the fact. Throughout the country

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEhe also executed a considerable quantity ofecclesiastical sculpture. Amongst otherplaces, Limerick Cathedral, St. Eunan's,Letterkenny, and several Dublin churches,including Terenure, may be named as placeswhere specimens of his work remain. Hiswell-known figure of"The Mater Dolorosa"in the Mortuary Chapel, St. Andrew's,Westland Row, appears a tragic and pro-phetic masterpiece to us to-day. In someremote country districts one may find figuresof the Dead Christ and the ImmaculateConception shaped by his chisel. TheO'Mulrennan Memorial in Glasnevin anda Father Murphy Memorial in CountyWexford may be also mentioned as his. Adesign he submitted for the Wolfe ToneMemorial, although not accepted, earnedhigh approval from the judges. His child-studies "Youth," the "Skipping Rope,""Memories" reveal, however, when all issaid, the work in which he was a pre-eminentmaster. A kinder fate might have spared usa sculptor of no small genius, one who, indeed,accomplished valuable and lasting work inhis short day, one who, as his intimatefellow-students bear witness, would have


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEgained inevitably a considerable place amongIrish sculptors. But the tragic and poignantmemory that he carved upon Ireland's brainand heart has now, perforce, to vie with allthe figures his brain planned or his chiselcarved.

Sculpture, indeed, was not the only artto whicn William Pearse devoted seriousattention. At the age of eleven he com-menced to interest himself in the stage,acting in a play dealing with the battle ofClontarf, a work of some merit, written inverse, whose author was aged twelve, andP. H. Pearse by name. Thenceforward, hewas an actor and stage-manager in manydramatic undertakings at the Dublin Schoolof Art, the Abbey Theatre, and once inDr. Douglas Hyde's Casadh an tSugdin at anOireachtas. Six or seven years ago, he, hissister, Miss M. B. Pearse, and others foundedthe Leinster Stage Society, which gaveseveral performances in Dublin, and oncevisited Cork city. Under Thomas Mac-Donagh's management, the Irish Theatre,Hardwicke Street, was another histrionichaunt of his, where he acted mostly in playsby the Russian, Tchekoff, whom he greatly

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEadmired for their deep spirit of sincerity andcompassion towards all the weak and broken-spirited men and women of the world. Inthese tastes and occupations P. H. Pearsesympathized with his brother, holding sculp-ture to be the noblest of the arts, andemploying the drama to an unprecedentedextent in his educational schemes. At St.Enda's, no subject arose more frequentlyduring those nightly conferences, where thepair discussed men, books, nations and theircollege to a late hour, than the play orpageant in hand or mooted. Whatever creditis due to Sgoil Eanna plays or pageants, asregards grouping and costumes, is due largelyto William Pearse.Upon his father's death, William Pearsetook over the general management of the

business, and eventually conducted the com-mercial side as well. His life down to thelast years in Rathfarnham was a busy andeventful one, the life of a man devoted mainlyto the arts. The vicissitudes of his career,combined with his unselfishness of character,had led him into the exacting life of a businessman ; now they were to lead him to forsakethe congenial life of the studio, to enter upon

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEthe devoted life of a schoolmaster, eventuallyinto the ranks of the Irish Volunteers, thestorm and fire of an insurrection, andKilmainham barrack yard.With his brother and Thomas MacDonagh,in the direction of St. Enda's College, hewas early associated, and gradually assumedan importance and position there that fewoutsiders have understood. Until 1911 hewas, for the most part, Art and DrawingMaster, in 1913 he became a regular mem-ber of the school staff, from 1914 onwardsone might have aptly named him the assistantheadmaster. The actual headmaster's import-ance in Sgoil Eanna's scheme we need notagain emphasize. But when an irresistibleconviction compelled that headmaster todevote his time and energy more and moreto the Irish Volunteers, William Pearsestepped forward to uphold the college in hisbrother's way, and with his brother's idealsand methods. He knew, none better, whata sacrifice his brother's course of action hadmeant to him. He knew full well howdeeply Pearse's heart was centred uponSgoil Eanna. The debt St. Enda's owesWilliam Pearse can scarcely be over-estimated.


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEIt cannot be too often repeated how largelyhis hand is writ upon it. Not unnaturallyhis brother's fame has obscured his claimto recognition. His retiring disposition didnot impress the casual observer to the extentthat P. H. Pearse's more aggressive andconcentrated personality did.

I remember well the first appearance hemade in Sgoil Eanna as a drawing master.He gave us, with his quiet, nervous manner,his flowing tie, his long hair brushed backfrom his forehead in an abundant curve, theimpression of an artist first and last, thatexpression excellently conveyed in severalof the full-length portraits of him nowcommon. As a teacher he was most pains-taking. He acted consistently upon hisbrother's maxim that the office of anyteacher is to foster the characters of hispupils, to guide them rather than to repressthem, to bring to fruition whatever glimmer-ings of ideals and goodness they possessedrather than to indoctrinate them with theirmaster's prejudices or drive them through acourse of studies like so many little tinsoldiers. Elsewhere I have written ofWilliam Pearse's part in Sgoil Eanna, and

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEit is not necessary to repeat the story of hisunwearied attention to the athletic, literary,social, and above all, the dramatic side ofthe school, or his knowledge of his pupils,his trust in them and their respect for him,or what he came to mean more and morein the life of St. Enda's. His place in thehearts of St. Enda students was deep indeed,nor have they adequate words to expresswhat his life and death meant to them. Inhis lifetime a wag amongst his studentswrote in a school journal (of which therewas always a flourishing crop in the school,from An Sgoldire, quoted in An Macaomh^down to twenty less ambitious but vigoroussheets) :

William Pearse's locks are long,His trousers short and lanky,When in the study hall he standsHe does look very cranky.But now his fondest hopes have fled,His dearest wish's departed,Pope Pius the Tenth, his greatest work,Is going to be bartered !

This was in reference to a raffle in con-nection with a school fete of a piece of


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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEsculpture gratuitously attributed to WilliamPearse. With this reference to his work asa teacher the record of the facts of his lifemay end. I fear I cannot convey a pictureof the man. In his brother's writingspassages frequently occur breathing a tender-ness and compassion towards all the outcastsand oppressed of mankind, an austere joy insimple things, in the shapeliness or variety ofanimals, in the shade vivid or subdued ofany plant or flower, a love of beauty andthe suggestion of a great sadness. The onlything you will not find is melodrama orsensationalism. In such passages you willdiscover and know William Pearse. " TheWayfarer " might have been written byhim, for " the beauty of the world had madehim sad," and he had gone too upon his waysorrowful. But you must remember thatthe sadness of the world neither soured himnor robbed him of a keen sense of humour.Nor did it indispose him for action as hisenthusiastic participation in the Irish Volun-teers goes far to prove. When he saw avillain in a blood and thunder play he bothsmiled and hissed. A devout student ofDickens, he told me once that nothing

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEdelighted him so much in all the volumesof that writer than David Copperfieldslapping Uriah Heep in the face. Hisknowledge of English literature, it is worthyof note, was appreciative and wide ; he wasan especially keen Shakespearian student.Amongst modern writers he devoted especialattention to the works of Ibsen and theRussian novelists. The community ofthought and affection which existed betweenthe brothers Pearse was very apparent. Itis said that Pearse once lost his temper togreat effect in his schooldays when Williewas reprimanded by a teacher. Pearse'sviolent protests soon changed matters forthe better, and Willie was never molestedagain. In St. Enda's, Pearse used to tell uswith pride he had never lost his tempersince the school had started, and this wasstrictly true, although he informed us thatwhen he was younger his temper had beena fiery one. His feelings towards Williewere very evident even from his affectionatemode of addressing him, or even the toneof his voice when he spoke about him ; thiswas the more remarkable, as Pearse was inpublic a very undemonstrative man. But

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEwhere his brother or his pupils were con-cerned, no one could be more genial, morekindly, more human. The two brothers attimes conversed in a baby dialect of their own ;the effect on first hearing it was weird inthe extreme. In all important mattersWilliam Pearse was the confidant, counsellor,and often the critic of his brother. I haveknown them to spend hours arguing over apupil's behaviour or character, a new schoolprogramme or scheme, and I rememberWillie once saying bluntly about a speech :" Pat, you were terrible, you repeated your-self, you were too slow and bored thepeople ! " In conversation William Pearsehad an interesting and confidential manner.He spoke generally of books, very often ofpolitics, while his criticisms of bumptiousand snobbish persons were a joy to hear.He had a great reverence for women, andtrusted them more than men. His religiousconvictions were very deep and earnest. Hisnational faith was the same as his brother's,and quite as intense and ardent. LikeP. H. Pearse, he never blatantly expressedhis beliefs ; indeed preferred to listen a goodwhile before he argued.

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEThe Volunteer movement brought a new

purpose and enthusiasm into his life. Hefelt his brother would play a large part in itsdevelopment and counsels. When it startedin 1913 he joined the ranks, where hissincerity and enthusiasm for the work wonhim rapid promotion. A considerable portionof his spare time was devoted to the studyof military science. He attended manoeuvres,route marches and parades religiously, andbecame, from frequent practice, an accuratemarksman. His attitude towards the lastadventure was substantially his brother's.He was no pacifist. He did not gloat overforlorn hopes. He thought an insurrectionin the circumstances worth a trial. Hebelieved implicitly in a successful issue tothe national struggle, but, in Easter 1916 orsimilar contingencies, he doubtlessly believedcircumstances had arisen to make a fightagainst overwhelming odds a point of honour.What I have written on the same questionas regards P. H. Pearse is true also of Willie:the simple explanation is that they bothhoped for the best, but dared the worst.When the Rising broke out, WilliamPearse was attached as a captain to the

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEheadquarters staff. Easter Week found himin the General Post Office, where he remainedan active but stoical figure until fire forcedthe Volunteers to evacuate the doomed andcollapsing building. He was separated fromhis brother after the surrender from 1 6 MooreStreet. He bore himself with dignity beforehis court-martial. On May 4th, exactlytwenty-four hours after his brother, he wasexecuted. From the surrender he neveragain saw his brother. He told his motherand sister of a terrible incident which hap-pened the morning the latter was executed.An officer and guard arrived to bring Willieto pay a farewell visit. When they hadentered the prison, and were proceedingtowards a yard entrance, the report of avolley was heard, and another officer rushedforward hastily to tell the party that theyhad arrived too late. . . .

Perhaps from a personal point of view itwas not a hard fate that neither of theBrothers Pearse survived the other. Theworks to which thev had devoted their livesjseemed to lie in ruins around them. Possiblythe breaking of that great personal tie wouldhave left the survivor a broken man. The

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THE MAN CALLED PEARSEspeculation is a rather useless one as towhether the shock would not have killedWilliam Pearse in any case. In one sense,at least, the firing squad conferred uncon-sciously a service upon him : he would havebeen unknown otherwise to the succeedinggenerations. He will be remembered as onewho went down righting for his hopes andbeliefs, while the story of the Brothers Pearsewill move men and women wherever humanaffection, love of motherland and unselfishnessof character are held in reverence. In thecoming years he will gain a deeper place inthe heart of Ireland. His death will not behis only claim to remembrance. He willstand out as one of the men who are essentialfigures in the struggles of this country, menwho prepare the soil, sacrificing life, peaceor fortune for whatever ideal has set themafire, ennobling the heritage of Ireland withtheir genius and disinterestedness. Such arethe noble, silent heroes of the Irish revolu-tions whether that revolution bursts intowarfare in the

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