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| Sorcha Nic Diarmada |
Something which has always interested me about Irish
history is the prominent role of women in areas including literature and the
arts, religious life, science, political leadership and, specifically, the
early 20th century struggle for Irish independence.
Such is the influence of women in Irish history that the
country itself has from ancient times been personified as female with names
such as Erin, Roisin Dubh and Kathleen Ni Houlihan. Poets from Yeats to Heaney
have developed the idea so successfully that it seems more powerful than being
merely a traditional metaphorical representation and speaks of deeply rooted
cultural and spiritual values.
Countess Markievicz was undoubtedly the most celebrated
female leader of the 1916 Rising, described as a charismatic revolutionary, a
politician, suffragette and socialist. Markievicz was one of the first women in
the world to hold a cabinet position, as Minister for Labour in the Irish
Republic from 1919-1922.
But we should not overlook the fact that Markievicz was
the best known of many thousands of Irish (and Anglo-Irish) women who were
active in the 1916 Rising and the subsequent War of Independence. I was
reminded of this fact recently by a correspondent on Ancestry, a gentleman
named Mike McDermott whose family settled in Yorkshire in the 1860s because
Mike’s great grandfather, also Michael McDermott, had to leave Ireland under
suspicion for his “Fenian activities”.
Mike’s grandfather Patrick McDermott married his
grandmother Annie McCluskey in Dublin in 1907. The connection with my own
ancestors was through the McCluskey family, Annie’s father Nicholas McCluskey
was a close friend and political ally of my great-great grandfather John
McDonnell, a blind basket maker and founding member of the League of the Blind
(a trade union of blind people). McDonnell and McCluskey were both elected Poor
Law Guardians in the North Dublin Union and used their position to campaign for
better conditions for poor and disabled people in Dublin. Fresh information
from Mike indicates that Nicholas and John were more than just lifelong friends
and co-conspirators, but relatives - as there were a number of cousins named
McDonnell on the wedding photograph of his grandparents, Patrick and Annie.
But how does this connect to the role of women in the
1916 Rising? The McDermott family originated from Leitrim and Mike’s family
share ancestors with Sean MacDiarmada (McDermott), a signatory of the
Proclamation of the Irish Republic read by Patrick Pearse outside the General
Post Office in Dublin. But a much closer link to this momentous period of Irish
history was through a sister of Mike’s grandfather, Sarah McDermott (Sorcha Nic
Diarmada), a teacher born at Normanton in West Yorkshire in 1878.
Sarah was one of the ten children of Michael and Mary
McDermott from Glenkeel in Leitrim. Her father had settled in the north of
England shortly after the unsuccessful Fenian Rising of 1867. Neighbouring
Lancashire had become a hotbed of Fenian activity in the 1860s with the
infamous prison van attack in Manchester in 1867, which was followed by a
prison bombing in London. The Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) was formed
in1858 and it was reported that within a few years every city in England had
IRB units. Sarah and her siblings may therefore have grown up in an area of
Fenian support but also within the wider trade union culture of the industrial
north of England.
After training as a teacher in Leeds, Sarah went to live
and work in London where she became active in the Irish community and in the
movement for Ireland’s independence. Many years later, in 1954, she provided a
witness statement to the Bureau of Military History about her involvement in
the Cumman na mBan, the Irish republican women’s paramilitary organisation
formed in 1914 and led by Countess Markievicz.
The archive of the Bureau of Military History
(http://www.bureauofmilitaryhistory.ie/) is a rich online source of personal
testimonies from people who were directly involved in the history of the fight
for Irish independence from 1913 to 1921. The great thing about this archive is
that it is not just about ‘the usual culprits’, but includes detailed memories
from ordinary citizens – the lesser known foot soldiers and activists.
Sarah McDermott’s testimony follows her involvement in
cultural activities, such as organising concerts and cèilidh dances as Social
Secretary of the Gaelic League in London to purchasing and smuggling arms to
Ireland in preparation for the 1916 Rising. She also describes the activities
of groups like the Irish Ladies’ Distress Committee who were widely involved in
sewing and collecting garments for people in Ireland affected by the War of
Independence.
What these memories highlight is the huge involvement in
Irish independence of people in England and in particular of women. Sarah was
eventually arrested in London by British detectives working in collaboration
with the Government of the Irish Free State on doubtful charges of conspiracy.
She was transported to Mountjoy Prison in Dublin in a group of 10 female and 90
male prisoners arrested in England, most of whom were later released. During
her confinement Sarah was ill-treated and assaulted by prison staff and
soldiers and after her release in 1923 she was indemnified by the British
Government to the figure of £600, the highest amount paid to a woman in this
group of prisoners.
I wish to thank Mike McDermott for telling us about his
ancestor Sarah McDermott, the radical teacher from West Yorkshire.
