The experience of living through the
Easter Rising was made all the more intense for Maie Corry, as for so many
other Dubliners, by the fact that a family member – in her case her beloved
older brother Sam – was fighting with a British army regiment in France, having
joined the Inniskilling Fusiliers as a volunteer in 1915. On the evening of
Thursday 27 April the scenes she witnessed became increasingly distressing, as
the contingents of soldiers arriving from Kingstown came within sight of the
GFS Lodge:
‘They came along Mount Street, in one
of the houses of which there were some Sinn Feiners, almost opposite the
Pharmaceutical School. From this house we could see the smoke as they fired on
the poor soldiers. I saw one man getting shot, on the leg I think, as he was
able to limp on past the dangerous house. Afterwards I saw him being carried
into a house on the Square which had beeen turned into a hospital. At last they
all got past, how many wounded I do not know. The last of them halted along the
Square where they remained all night. The poor fellows seemed very glad to get
the tea which most of the houses gladly provided. One boy told us that they had
just marched from Kingstown, and that they hadn’t tasted tea since Monday morning
in Liverpool. Since then they had been waiting there until it was safe to cross
the Channel, which was infested with torpedoes. Probably the Germans were
expecting troop-ships, and thought to sink them, but as far as we hear they all
arrived safely.
‘Thousands more soldiers came along the
same way next day, Friday. It was too awful to see them halt just before they
came to this house, and then at the word of command make one dash on until they
were out of danger. At first they used to line up right across the road one
deep, but that was probably too slow a method, and in the end they just kept to
the footpaths on each side, about two deep, dashing, dashing, dashing on for
dear life. I saw another poor fellow who was shot lying on the path just in front
of the house from which they were firing, and one of his comrades run back to
drag him to safety. I do not know how badly he may have been wounded, but it
must have been pretty badly. At the same time another fell on the other side of
the street, and after that I could hardly bear to look any more, I grew so sick
with dread each time I saw them brace themselves for that fateful dash.
Later some of the rebels got down to a
house at the very end of Mount Street, one of the corner houses of the Square.
They also had possession of the railway line, which runs along behind our side
of the Square. Either from here or from houses in Holles Street in which they
may have been hiding they were able to shoot right along Holles Street, thus
making that particular corner a most dangerous and difficult one to pass. So
although the artillery which came in on Saturday morning went round some other
way to avoid Mount Street, and came along the side of the Square nearest us,
they did not escape danger as they had to pass the corner house and also the
opening into Holles Street. They could not go along the side opposite us as by
that time the Sinn Feiners had got into a good many of the houses on that side
and were actually firing from the windows across at the soldiers who lay on the
footpath on our side returning their fire. Our side of the Square had been
occupied by the military day and night since Thursday night, and on Friday
night the firing across the Square had been very violent, most violent of all
we had experienced.
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| Junction of Mount St & Merrion Sq. Holles St is on right, No 28 a few houses beyond. 1992 |
How all the artillery got safely round
this corner I do not know, but I think their arrival was more exciting to me
than anything else. They galloped down the Square, round the corner and past
Holles Street, waggons after wagons of them, for nearly an hour on end. One
soldier was early crushed between the back of his own waggon and the two horses
of the next, but after a little he was able to limp on. The wheel came off
another waggon, and the horses were galloping so quickly it was almost
impossible to get them pulled up. Even when they did get stopped those behind
were almost on top of them and those behind that on top of them, and so on.
Worst of all, the second half of one of
the waggons became detached just at the very corner, and remained there overturned,
while the horses and driver galloped on unaware of what had happened. Those
behind could not see the upturned waggon until they were almost on it and could
barely pull aside in time to pass safely. At last the driver and a few men came
back and there at the very most dangerous part of the whole way they had to
stop, not knowing what minute might be their last, until they got the waggon
put right and it was able to gallop on.
During all this time ambulances and
doctors in white coats and nurses in their white aprons simply thronged the
streets. Nobody else was allowed out, except a privileged few who had permits
from some of the authorities. We saw any amount of wounded carried up in
stretchers from Holles Street, and others carried from the ambulances into two
houses in the Square which had been temporarily turned into hospitals. Then in the direction of Sackville
Street we could see the glare of fire by night and smoke by day, for three or
four days.
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| Postcard from Maie Corry's own collection |
'By Saturday night firing in the city seemed to be somewhat
diminished. Our soldiers opposite had told us that the rebels had been given
until six o’clock on Sunday morning to surrender, and if not – the artillery
would be used without mercy. So when we heard a rumour that the leaders had
surrendered we were inclined to believe it. Only in our own direction, and in
Mount Street the firing seemed to be going on as bad as ever. The soldiers had
somehow managed to get into the corner house – we actually saw them shoot
several times into the basement and saw the smoke of bursting bombs which they threw
down there too. We afterwards learned that there was an underground passage
from that house right along one side of the Square into the houses on the
opposite side, which explains how they came to be firing from those houses so
unexpectedly. Shooting still went on in Mount Street on Sunday until about one
o’clock we heard the command “Don’t fire on the white flag!” and soon after we
saw a little band of rebels, the first of them carrying a white flag, march out
into Mount Street with uplifted hands. It took some time to arrange them with a
competent guard – there were one hundred and five – and then they marched off
in the opposite direction.
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| De Valera's rebel garrison from Boland's Bakery surrender |
'After that things were very much
quieter, though there were still occasional shots at snipers, and we could
still see military snipers on the roofs of adjacent houses, and we were not yet
allowed out.
'After tea on Monday Miss Gilbert said
she would take four of us for a little walk if the sentries would let us pass.
First we went in the direction of town where we had heard Sackville Street was
in ruins, but the Sentry at the end of the Square, though very nice, would on
no account let us pass, so we retraced our steps and tried the other direction.
The sentry here was more amenable to reason, told us to “double” past a gateway
from which they were still firing, and escorted us to the next sentry, who
escorted us to the next and so on until we got as far as the now famous Mount
Street Bridge, where we picked up quite a number of empty bullets as souvenirs.
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| Clanwilliam House |
'Clanwilliam House, which had been a rebel stronghold, was nothing but bare
walls now. There were a few articles of furniture in the garden, where the poor
little flowers were all trampled and withered. We were escorted by the same
sentries on our return journey and reached Merrion Square in Safety.
‘Next morning we were allowed to have
our first walk through the city, and what a sight! Sackville Street, the pride
of Dublin, lay in ruins. The newspapers may describe it, but no description can
give any adequate idea of the appearance of that once beautiful street. In my
wildest dreams I couldn’t have pictured such a scene of destruction, and I will
not attempt to describe [it].
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| Postcard from Maie Corry's own collection |
Thursday, May 4th, 1916
'Everything and everybody is settling
down quite wonderfully. The shops are opening again, and everybody who can is
getting back to business. One or two trams have actually passed here this morning
already, and it is all beginning to look like a bad dream. There is no sign of
classes being resumed yet at Lower Mount Street, probably because there is no
gas and we can do so little without gas. I won’t go again until Monday.’
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| O'Connell Bridge, Sackville Street and Eden Quay/Lower Abbey Street [ALAMY] |
