Courtney McGrail“There was no joking, not even the semblance of it. Poor Colbert was far too beautiful and too reverent a character to joke with anyone in such a solemn hour. I know very well where his heart was then. It was very near to God and to the friends he loved.
“What really happened was this. While my left arm linked the prisoner’s right, and while I was whispering something in his ear, a soldier approached to fit a bit of paper on his breast. While this was being done he looked down, and addressing the soldier in a perfectly cool and natural way said: ‘Wouldn’t it be better to pin it up higher – nearer the heart?’ The soldier said something in reply, and then added: ‘Give me your hand now.’ The prisoner seemed confused and extended his left hand. ‘Not that,’ said the soldier, ‘but the right.’ The right was accordingly extended, and having shaken it warmly, the kindly human-hearted soldier proceeded to bind gently the prisoner’s hands behind his back, and afterwards blindfolded him.
“Some minutes later, my arm still linked in his, and accompanied by another priest, we entered the dark corridor leading to the yard and his lips moving in prayer, the brave lad went forth to die.”
– Fr Augustine Hayden
“Before leaving for Kilmainham, I had a few words with Connolly. I said that the men who would execute him were soldiers – probably they knew nothing about him, and, like soldiers, would simply obey orders and fire. I wanted him to feel no anger against them, but to say, as Our Blessed Lord said on Calvary: “Father, forgive them” and to say a prayer for them.
“I do, Father,” he answered. “I respect every man who does his duty.”
“James Connolly was laid on a stretcher and placed in an ambulance. I stayed beside him and had a last word with him before they took him from the ambulance in Kilmainham Yard. He was put sitting on a chair; the order was given and the soldiers fired. Fr Eugene McCarthy, who earlier had been in attendance on Sean MacDermott, went over and anointed Connolly.
“I had stood just behind the firing line. It was a scene I should not ask to witness again… Now I had to say goodbye. All I could do was to return to Church Street with a heavy heart and to offer the Holy Sacrifice for his soul. May he rest in peace.”
– Fr Aloysius Travers
“Chatting to pass the time, Father Albert mentioned to me that he was with my son, Joseph, just before he was executed. Of this I was not aware until then. He told me how four priests from Church Street were sent for in the early hours of the morning of May 4, 1916, and in 20 minutes the four had arrived at Kilmainham Jail to find Joseph and three others (Edward Daly, Willie Pearse and Michael O’Hanrahan) were about to be executed.
“One priest and a prisoner were sent to a nearby cell. The prisoner had his hat on and the priest wondered to see a man going to confess and wearing his hat. A jailer put his head into the cell, and then entering, undid the handcuffs behind the man’s back and allowed him to remove his hat. It was nearly dark and there was only a candle for lighting.
“The other three prisoners were together in an adjoining room, among them Joseph, by whom Father Albert was attracted. Joseph, seeing him looking at him, walked across the room to Father Albert and said: ‘Father I want you to know that I am dying for the glory of God and the honour of Ireland.’ ‘That’s all right, my son,’ answered Father Albert. In a few minutes the firing squad carried out their orders. And that was Joseph’s first – and last – meeting with Fr Albert here on Earth, God grant they have met in Heaven.
– Countess Josephine Mary Plunkett
“I went to Seán Heuston’s cell at about 3.20 am… During the last quarter of an hour we knelt in that cell in complete darkness, as the little piece of candle had burned out, but no word of complaint escaped his lips.
“His one thought was to prepare with all the fervour and earnestness of his soul to meet Our Divine Saviour and His Sweet Virgin Mother, to Whom he was about to offer up his young life for the freedom and independence of his beloved country.
“He had been to Confession and had received Holy Communion early that morning, and was not afraid to die.
“He awaited the end not only with that calmness and fortitude which peace of mind brings to noble souls, but during the last quarter of an hour he spoke of soon meeting again Pádraig MacPiarais and the other leaders who had already gone before him.
••••••••
“I scarcely had moved a few yards when a volley went off, and this noble soldier of Irish freedom fell dead. I rushed over to anoint him. His whole face seemed transformed, and lit up with a grandeur and brightness that I had never before noticed.”
– Fr Albert Bibby
“After I had left Willie Pearse I saw O’Hanrahan for a short while in his cell… His last message to me before he went out into the dark corridor that led to the yard where he was shot was: ‘Father, I’d like [it if] you saw my mother and sisters and consoled them.’ I promised him I would, and, whispering something in his ear, I grasped the hands that were tied behind his back. In his right hand he pressed mine most warmly; we exchanged a look, and he went forth to die.”
– Fr Augustine Hayden
Personal recollections by Fr Aloysius, as published in the 1966 Capuchin Annual
Easter Monday, April 24, 1916
Said Mass in Gloucester Street Convent at 8.30. On way to convent noticed some Fianna scouts on bicycles. Passing up Gloucester Street near the convent PH Pearse and another Volunteer (I have since been told he was Willie Pearse) rode past me on bicycles. Pearse did not see me. He seemed in a hurry to gain some objective.
He wore a loose overcoat or mackintosh, which covered baggage or provisions. He and his companion had come into Gloucester Street from Rutland Square.
We were at dinner when we heard the rifle fire and soon word came that Mrs Foster’s little boy had been shot outside the Father Mathew Hall; and shortly afterwards a man wounded in the hand was brought into the convent and a number of children, crying, came for shelter.
By one o’clock or one thirty the Volunteers had barricades erected in Church Street and were at their posts.
Tuesday, April 25
The Father Mathew Hall was taken over as a hospital by the Volunteers; and the wounded received First Aid from the members of Cumann na mBan. Serious cases were at the earliest opportunity conveyed to Richmond Hospital. Some of the Fathers were constantly in or near the hall, at call in case of emergency.
Wednesday, April 26
Visited the Richmond Hospital and the Union; and returning, heard Confessions in the house in North Brunswick Street adjoining Moore’s coach factory. The Volunteers had possession of the houses in Church Street, and had established communications between them.
The windows were protected with sandbags, behind which the Volunteers were in position. The wildest rumours were in circulation, e.g. that the Germans had landed outside Dublin and were marching on the city.
Thursday, April 27
Firing – rifle volleys and machine gun fire – at intervals. Fires at, as far as could be judged, the Post Office, Clery’s etc., in O’Connell Street. A number of wounded were in the Main Hall (Father Mathew Hall). Some prisoners were there also, including a DMP and soldiers from Linenhall Barracks. The soldiers worked at filling sandbags for the barricades.
Friday, April 28
Machine guns and hand grenades. There seemed to be a great deal of firing at sea. Could hear the heavy boom of cannon. Perhaps the firing was for fog signals. Food was getting scarce. Almost impossible to get milk. All through, the Volunteers did their best to facilitate the bringing up of provisions.
Friday night and Saturday, April 29
From about ten o’clock the firing became intense; and all night and all through Saturday until about three or four in the afternoon there was no cessation.
Machine guns, bombs, hand grenades and rifles were in continuous use. Great fires blazed in O’Connell Street direction as well as at Linenhall Barracks. A great number of wounded were attended in the Father Mathew Hall.
Sunday, April 30
After Mass (said about 7am) Fr Augustine and myself walked to the Castle to seek a permit to see Pearse. We saw Brig. Gen. Lowe. He received us in a very kindly and gentlemanly manner, and gave us the permit. He suggested that we should see Connolly, also, as he was responsible for the Citizen Army; and he took us to the room in the Castle hospital where Connolly was a patient.
He asked Connolly in our presence if his signature to the letter advising surrender was genuine. His reply, was: “Yes – to prevent needless slaughter.” He added, however that he spoke only for his own men.
The General then put his motor and chauffeur at our disposal, to take us to Arbour Hill to see Pearse, and suggested that after seeing him and arranging with the Church Street Volunteers we should return and convey the message to Jacob’s factory where the Volunteers were still holding out and to which he had been unable to convey Pearse’s message. He said that it would be a great charity to do this as otherwise great loss of life would ensue.
Father Augustine occupied the interior of the motor. I sat with the chauffeur outside, as protection for him through the Volunteer districts.
When we reached Arbour Hill, Pearse informed us that the signature was genuine and given to prevent needless bloodshed.
Monday, May 1
I entered with Captain Stanley, but I remarked that two soldiers with rifles and bayonets were on guard and showed no intention of leaving. I point out this to Captain Stanley, but he said it was necessary that they should remain; that he had no power to remove them.
Then I said: “If that is so I cannot do my work as a priest. I have never before, to my knowledge spoken to James Connolly. I cannot say if he may not be hard of hearing. Confession is an important and sacred duty that demands privacy and I cannot go on with it in the presence of these men.”
I had given my word that I would not utilise the opportunity for carrying political information or as a cover for political designs, and if my word was not sufficient or reliable they had better get some other priest. But I felt quite confident I would have my way.
•••••••
The permit “to pass through the streets of Dublin by day or night” was signed by Lord Powerscourt. Referring in my presence to the events of the preceding days, Lord Powerscourt and some officers paid a tribute to the bravery of the Volunteers, one of the officers remarking that “they were the cleanest and bravest lot of boys he had ever met”.
Tuesday, May 2
When I reached Kilmainham Gaol I was informed that Thomas MacDonagh also wished for my ministrations. I was taken to the prisoners’ cells and spent some hours between the two. “You will be glad to know that I gave Holy Communion to James Connolly this morning,” I said to Pearse when I met him. “Thank God,” he replied, “it is the one thing I was anxious about.”
••••••••
Then I heard the Confessions and gave Holy Communion to Pearse and MacDonagh; and I cannot easily forget the devotion with which they received the Most Blessed Sacrament. They assured me they were happy. They spent the time at their disposal in prayer.
I told them I should be very near at the last moments, although they would probably be blindfolded and unable to see me and I exhorted them to make aspirations and acts of contrition and love. I left them in a most edifying disposition sometime between 2am and 3am.
To my astonishment I heard that orders were given that all the friends were to leave the prison and that the orders referred to me, too. I protested that I was present not merely as a friend but in the capacity of a priest, and held that I should be permitted to remain with the prisoners to the end. The officer in charge said that he had to carry out his instructions.
Wednesday, May 3
I went to Mrs MacDonagh and Mrs Pearse to break the sad news to them. I told Mrs Pearse that I believed Willie would be spared; that I could not conceive of them executing her second son. “No,” she said, “I believe they will put him to death too.”
Friday, May 5
John McBride executed, attended by one of the Fathers.
Sunday, May 7
Consultation with John Dillon at North Great George’s Street. Dillon said that although he disagreed entirely with the policy of the men and believed that they had put back the Home Rule Movement, still he admired their courage and respected their convictions.
He said that he had always had an admiration for Patrick Pearse. He would do everything in his power to put an end to the executions.