#Willie Pearse

[thereofrin]

A plaque with a list of all the 1916 Easter Rising leaders that were executed by the British Government

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1968 – Death of Irish language educator, Margaret Mary Pearse, in Blackrock, Co Dublin.

Margaret Mary Pearse was a Fianna Fáil politician and teacher. She helped to found St Enda’s School with her brothers Patrick and Willie. Following the executions of her brothers in the aftermath of the Easter Rising, Margaret continued to run St Enda’s until 1933. She was first elected to Dáil Éireann as a Fianna Fáil Teachta Dála (TD) for the Dublin County constituency at the 1933 general…

[flags-planes-and-fire]

*takes a long drag of my cigarette* ...we should all read more James Connolly

[victusinveritas]

Patrick Pearse spent much of the last summer of his life (1915) in Rosmuck, Connemara with his brother Willie and a friend named Desmond Ryan.

It was a relaxed holiday although Pearse found the time to write one of Ireland's most famous speeches - 'Ireland unfree shall never be at peace,' spoken at the graveside of O'Donovan Rossa and considered by many as a key moment in the lead up to the Easter Rising.

Ryan recalled the summer fondly:

"The next day we proceeded to Rosmuck by train, or rather part of the way, for Rosmuck lies nine miles from a railway station, and we had a long drive by side-car through granite and peat from Maam Cross Station over winding, peak-screened roads.

It was a stirring view along those serpentine roads, ever winding and twisting to avoid the bog.

The horse trotted bravely while an O’Malley drove, and Pearse explained what famous people the O’Malleys were in Connemara.

All the while, bluish granite mountains soared and all around spread the peat-bogs starred by the tiny lakes, each with a local name and every name known to Pearse, who declared for the hundredth time he could find his way blindfold on any road in Connacht.

The Twelve Bens came in sight and Pearse waved his hand here and there over the land, naming lake, mountain and district away to the Joyce Country under its purple mist.

He told us many stories he had learned from the people.

Away there on that gloomy mountain yonder a stranger had lived for years, coming suddenly in the night from nowhere, henceforth a hermit, perhaps doing a penance of solitude and silence for some deed of blood.

We passed a peculiar green building of corrugated iron, a Protestant Church, [Screebe?] and then Pearse remembered that many years before the Bible Societies had carried out a proselytising campaign, and even in 1915 a small remnant of the Irish-speaking Protestant colonies still survived.

Once on his rambles, Pearse had met one of the members, an old man up in a cottage among the hills who opened his Gaelic Bible, read it aloud and argued with Pearse for an hour until the old man’s daughter came in and told her father that he had no manners and that he did not know how to treat a learned man who knew enough Irish and enough Bible to make up his mind for himself, and the attempted conversion of Pearse went no further.

A lonely letter-box on a post at a crossroads led Pearse to tell of the extravagant family, long bankrupt and extinct, who had had the box erected as a monument to their exclusiveness, recklessness and pride.

A barracks rose beside the rattling wheels and Pearse knew that the sergeant within was a crusty and cantankerous fellow companioned by six splendid constables, enthusiastic Irish speakers who spent their time in shooting wild ducks, fishing and studying with zeal the poems of Eoghan Ruadh O’Sullivan.

The car stopped at the schoolmaster’s house and Patrick Connolly welcomed Pearse warmly. His wife came out too.

Inside like startled birds, the four daughters of the schoolmaster retreated from our gaze while their mother laughed and said they would grow out of all that, but when young people lived among lakes and bogs they became curlews and mountain birds, easily startled by wild young men from the cities and poets from Dublin, all this for Willie and me whose ties and locks must have startled her ducklings.

We proceeded to the cottage, a white, thatched, oblong building with green

door, porchway and two windows in front, approached by a peat-sodded path from the main road. Here was the spiritual home of Pearse, which in the last years he visited every summer to pay a last farewell.

Below lay a fifty-acre lake legend tenanted with a Water Horse.

Beyond the rare walls of the cottage, the Atlantic heaved and moaned with tales of lost ships or murmured a summons to ride on its bosom to the Aran Isles on a fair day.

On every side rose the purple hills and peat, agleam with unnumbered lakelets. Pearse sat at the kitchen table writing the closing tales in his book of short stories, 'The Mother.'

He turned aside to discuss the completed stories with Willie and me, and said he thought the best the grimmest one, a tale of a woman under a curse called the “Black Chafer.”

Then he sighed that he had never written a story about turf or shown up enough the

hard life of the people. He said this sadly with almost the air of a man who all at once comes upon an intolerable personal grievance.

Sometimes he went down and bathed in the lake while Willie guarded him from the banks with a long, strong rope as Pearse was no swimmer. This tickled the brothers so much that they gave up the attempt with loud merriment and mutual criticisms.

Returning, Pearse mused on his cottage and said that one of the builders had been an old man who took his task very slowly and seriously, making progress by inches, but consoling Pearse’s impatience with the sole remark:

“Won’t it be a fine house when it is finished. Indeed it will be a fine house when it is finished.”

Pearse was more outspoken than I had ever known him before.

Night by night he spoke to Willie and me about everything by turns.

Much about the future of the Irish language. Here in this self-contained community which he had once known as purely Irish-speaking, English was creeping in among the younger generation.

It amused him when we walked abroad in the day-time to speak to the men working

the land and smile at the English expressions speckling the Gaelic:

“Becripes, tá . . . bedamned but tá...' from those who knew no other words of English, but he said this was the beginning of the end unless some great change came.

And what the change would be sometimes broke through his thoughts...

Who could have guessed that behind his gentle words and look, an insurrection simmered, a certainty that his days were irrevocably numbered and in this place he would never see in another summer?"

Pictured above are Patrick Pearse and his brother Willie, neither of whom would live to see the summer of 1916.

Taken from Desmond Ryan's 1934 auto-biography 'Remembering Sion.'

All of this was taken whole cloth from The History of Connemara Facebook group.

[444names]

captain pearse's list of pirates intending to take the king's pardon

seed also available on the @444namesplus blog

Abenius Abryce Adarrtson Adavor Addones Alerson Alliam Allie Alryce Alrympson Anden Andler Andley Annown Anthy Ardson Ardsonn Arker Arlton Armyte Arner Arnes Arreynold Arrimso Arrosivey Arrout Arrowell Arrters Artiter Artown Baley Barchanne Barchard Bards Barke Barlet Barmarrey Barners Barre Barryerr Bassender Beard Beardson Beliell Berson Birds Bireve Bradalds Bramesse Bramson Braniell Brater Bratton Broggris Browlin Bryelew Brykemper Brympson Burgarry Burge Burgers Calry Cards Cardson Carne Carneviss Carnock Carre Carright Carrims Carrows Carryant Carson Carter Chamils Chams Chamsom Charbers Charchas Chardso Chardson Charr Charrose Chart Charth Chasse Chawkine Chaws Chelly Chelt Chenjah Chenne Cherthy Chill Chilson Chold Chones Chrims Chrissel Clainer Clainson Claird Clamut Clant Clappet Clashom Class Cling Coatton Cober Cobes Cocks Cockson Codam Codavorlt Coddy Corbellew Corby Creird Creirevis Crelly Crims Culler Cullippet Daleigh Daley Dalle Dampeo Damsony Danbur Dandson Darmard Dartin Davell Davidger Davidges Davillin Davorby Dawlann Derishard Derry Dershames Domic Donnes Dunse Dwarker Dwarrowel Dwoodavis Eachart Eacornele Eadleigh Eadley Edite Editer Edmuell Edmuelly Edmunt Edmurnes Edwartop Edwathy Edwoodete Edwoods Edwoouth Edwor Emlyer Farlton Farrymp Fenjam Fennes Feveigh Feveles Fever Forne Fradd Frand Fryan Gadomas Gands Ganiuset Gardson Garlton Garton Georger Glines Glings Golme Gooder Goods Goodsone Gougerth Gradd Graham Gramer Grams Grand Gravilet Grawkso Graws Grickson Grighton Hames Hamplew Hamurrt Handle Handry Harbelete Harne Harneve Hawkines Hawking Hawld Hawsmick Haylois Haylorger Hears Hipton Holander Hough Howel Hudey Hunkipp Hunseph Huntin Jacon Jacor Jaharle Jamer Jamper Jamutlois Johns Johnse Joseles Josen Josip Kains Kaird Kemly Kermards Kerrew Kerryerrt Kersey Kerson Kerton Kings Kipkine Kipking Kippeacon Lairds Lancey Lannell Madleir Magnel Magnellie Mahames Mahor Males Mardson Marker Marley Marlton Marmagnes Marmass Marnes Marson Marth Martop Martson Massey Mccam Mccard Mccarrill Merrton Michames Micholan Minne Mitchan Mithy Mogeor Moodd Moought Moouth Morber Mordson Morgeek Morne Morth Mouby Moudey Mouds Mounkip Muell Murne Nabearker Nabeley Naber Nabes Nabram Nabrater Natton Nevell Nichark Nijace Nison Nockrams Nockson Nolet Nolme Norby Otheek Othomogeo Othone Parkemly Parmyte Parrowell Parrton Parry Paull Pauls Peadd Pelbry Pennet Peorts Perse Peterse Petes Phele Philly Phishwor Pinnole Pinsephip Polan Polass Raholl Ramerson Ravidger Ravils Rawsmiter Reigh Revill Rewsming Richouby Riffith Risham Robes Rogeellin Rogeon Rogess Roggrat Roggratt Roggrave Rolapp Ropet Rosive Rougers Rouston Routh Routon Routth Rowland Rowlipton Rowlius Rowns Rthough Salliame Samitess Samshold Saveigold Saver Savill Savis Shamp Shart Shone Siaminis Siampber Sinne Siverson Smichouby Smits Somith Sperr Stanbur Standre Still Sting Stone Stophen Stoudson Stown Stridgeo Strigh Strin Stroberr Strow Sutow Swoorge Swoorgeo Tacey Tackram Tacon Thard Thopheell Thorth Tilles Tillies Toper Tridger Trims Trown Turgaddy Turgarler Turricks Valew Vanigh Vanight Warcharre Warlennow Warmyter Warry Welews Wheek Whiball Whibarrew Whibart Whibasson Whilennet Whill Whilliam Whipp Willer Willew Willey Willie Williuse Willy Willye Willyer Wilsgram Wilsgran Woouttony Wornevis Wrichaws Wrichen Wrick

[444namesplus]

Captain Pearse's list of pirates intending to take the King's Pardon (sorted)

Abraham Adam Adams Addy Adonijah Alexander Allen Andrew Andrews Anthony Archibald Arrowsmith Arterile Arthur Ashworth Auger Austin B Barker Barnes Barton Bass Beach Bead Benjamin Berry Birdsale Bishop Bradley Bridges Brown Bryan Bryce Burgess Calvorley Campbell Carman Carroll Carye Champeon Chandler Charles Charlton Charnock Cheek Chissom Chow Christopher Clapp Clarke Clies Clois Coates Cockram Codd Connelly Connor Cornelius Creigh Crew Cullomore Dalrymple Daniel Darby Davey David Davis Daws Dennis Derickson Divelly Dominic Dryker Dunkin Dwoouby Ealling Earle Edmundson Edward Edwards Emly Farrow Fasset Fennet Feversham Forbes Francis Fryers Gador Garrison Garrt Gee Geo George German Glinn Goodson Goudet Grahame Gratrick Griffith Harris Hasselton Hawkins Hawks Hays Henry Hill Holmes Hornigold Houghton Hudson Hunt Hunter Jackson Jacob Jacobs James John Johnson Jones Joseph Josiah Kaine Kemp Kerr Kipperson Lamb Legatt Leigh Leslie Lewis Lyell Magness Mahon Mallet Mann Mark Marmaduke Marshall Martin Matthew Mccarthy Merredith Michelbro Michl Miller Mitchele Moggridge Moodey Morgan Morvat Mounsey Murry Mutlow Nabel Nathaniel Nearne Nevill Nicholas Nichols Noland Nowland Othenius Owell Parker Parmyter Paulsgrave Pearse Pelt Perrin Peter Peters Peterson Phillip Pinfold Poley R Raddon Rawlings Reveire Reynolds Richard Richards Richardson Robert Roberts Roger Rogers Roper Ross Rounsivell Rouse Rowld Rt Samuel Savory Scrimshaw Shear Shipton Sinclair Sipkins Smith South Spencer Stacey Stanbury Stillwell Stoneham Stout Sutton Swoord Taylor Terrell Thomas Thompson Titso Townsend Tristram Trouton Turner Valentine Van Vane Ward Waters Wells Wheeler White Whitehead William Williams Williamson Willis Wilson Wishort Woodall Wright

[predishthefish]

OK I appreciate this about the aftermath of 1916 but you also have the fact that the WAR OF INDEPENDENCE was happening in 1919 in Ireland. Like, you're right that she would have been despised, it's just like how in Maths you can prove things shorter with such-and-such a theorem to hand. Ireland was at war with England in 1919, therefore English people were persona non grata.

[As a small addition, the turning point in the public image of the rebels didn't come when they surrendered (theres pictures of them being harassed by the public on their way to jail), it came when they were executed. Connolly was strapped to a chair, Mallin never wanted to die, Willie Pearse was just Patrick's brother.]

It always annoyed me how Tom was supposed to be a journalist back in Dublin (irks my soul that they went to Dublin to be honest) But where did that even go it just flew off, like he must have had some values that would suit that line of work. Yet they just gave it to Edith, I just never understood it??

[aoife700]

“What greater thing has ever happened to me than the coming of that good comrade? Willie and I have been true brothers. Willie’s companionship has been the one solace of my sorrowful life. As a boy, he has been my only playmate, as a man he has been my only intimate friend.” - Pádraig Pearse on his brother William (Willie) Pearse. Artist, Sculptor, Nationalist, Republican, Staff Captain of the Irish Volunteers, Brother and One of the 16 executed rebels of the 1916 Easter Rising

[sonofhistory]

Signatures of some of the Irish Revolutionaries of 1916. 

[thereofrin]

A coloured photo of William Pearse (Pádraig Pearses Brother)

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1908 – Poet, educator and eventual Easter Rising leader, Pádraig Pearse, opens St. Enda’s school for boys (Scoil Eanna).

“I dwell on the importance of the personal element in education. I would have every child not merely a unit in a school attendance, but in some intimate personal way the pupil of a teacher, or to use more expressive words, the disciple of a master … the main objective in education is to help the child to be his own true and best self. What the teacher should bring to his pupil is not a set of…

[flags-planes-and-fire]

Easter Rising as Vines

I have made many mistakes in my life and this is one of them 

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Willie: Magic -

Margaret: You? Magic? Charles, it says TALENT show 

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Pearse: Pussy?

Elizabeth O’Farrell: Yes :)

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Michael Collins: Add two shots of whiskey vodka (proceeds to pour half the bottle)

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Nora Connolly: Dad look, it’s the good kush!

James: This is the dollar store, how good can it be.

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Thomas MacDonagh: (Mixes several drinks, takes a sip) Fuck you.

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Pearse: Would you rather fight a bunch of kindergartners

MacDonagh: I wanna fight a kindergartner

Pearse: See that’s not even the whole question 

MacDonagh: Those kids are gettin’ SLAPPED 

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Roger Casements family: WAKE UP SLEEPYHEAD 

Casement: Ah! (incoherent) 

Random Indian dude: The fuck, man. 

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Thomas MacDonagh and Joseph Plunkett, to Pearse: Let’s tell each other a secret about ourselves, I’ll go first, I hate you.

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Pearse: Play it and you get 100 million dollars, but 100 million people will die

MacDonagh: (Plays it)

Pearse: KEVIN THOMAS NO

---

[twostarsinonesphere]

my favourite patrick pearse photos

the og patrick pearse photo. look at him. so dignified. such a wonderful pose. he really liked that side profile angle. but look at that hat+coat combo. what a legend.

this barrister's photo is hilarious to me. it looks like he's saying, "when i got my law degree i didn't sign up for this photography shit"

this is probably the best known photo of pearse. he really loved that side profile, like wow. he also seems uncomfortable, which i relate to. love that dude though. what a sweetie

willie and patrick pearse, bros hanging out, bros talking about revolutiony stuff probably

i hereby bless you with Little Pearse, for some reason holding a gun in a photoshoot. foreshadowing at its finest.

at rossa's funeral, a snapshot taken from the crowd as he delivered his oration. this oration, btw, fun fact, was the oration that inspired mick collins to take part in the rising.

and then finally, this is the best photo of pearse to ever exist because it's an action shot of him reading the proclamation, a moment in history that was just barely captured and it's amazing look at it wow i'm so glad someone took this picture

[kellerhinrichsen91-blog]

Parrot Announces Availability For AR.Drone two. Add

Malina a is a sweet, attractive girl who is really friendly and loves to meet new people. Our men and women have the facts as to what is going down in the Township… We just need to get out there, be amongst them, and write these stories, and show them what we have written, in order to get even far more gruesome accounts of the lives of our African People Of Mzantsi, today,here on the Viral soup. Are We Technically Dating? and Gelb "Focused on how South African corporate capital wrung concessions out of the ANC in the early 1990s, as properly as shaping understandings of the economy, and defining the terms of their re-engagement with the worldwide economy — an account that is broadly in accordance with that of a quantity of other analysts. The people today of South Africa are now tired of becoming lied to sick of wading through the ever-rising tide of corporate and political shenanigans and, folks are forever jaded from the numerous times they've been burned, duped, fooled, scammed, mugged, heated, misled, and completely screwed over. On the initiative of a number of members of the African National Congress, specially Dumile's friend Isaac Witkin and the conservator and bronze-caster John Phillips, funds have been set up with which to bring Dumile's performs back from the USA to South Africa, to be shown in the National Gallery in Cape Town. With Patrick And Willie Pearse And The 1916 Easter Increasing of drone warfare in the distant borderlands of our planet and in the intimate spaces of the American City, Ellul's thoughts may perhaps yet give a fascinating entry-point into understanding the existential adjustments (rather than the purely legal, moral, or geopolitical transformations) of life below drones.

[spooksvillecitylimits]

Dracula Returns (Excerpt 1) - Gabriel Dell

The Dracula Trot - Hans Conreid & Alice Pearse

Gallows Tree - Vicki Swann & Jonny Dyer

Graveyard - Leroy Bowman

The Exorcist - Dr. Ring Ding Ska-Vaganza

The Yodeling Ghost - The Andrews Sisters with Bing Crosby

Bewitched - Earl Klugh Trio

The Boogie Man Boogie - Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Airmen

Skin & Bones - Val Smalkin

The Mummy's Bracelet - Lee Ross

Dark Was The Night, Cold Was The Ground - Blind Willie Johnson

Goosebumps Theme - Mr. Dooves

Thriller - Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox

Dracula's Deuce - The Ghouls

I Am The Pumpkin King - Justin Burning & K. A. Opperman

Awake Ye Scary Great Olde Ones - The H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society & The Arkham Choir

The Skeleton Rag - The American Quartet (1912)

I’m in the Ground for Good - The Newports

Dracula Returns (Excerpt 2) - Gabriel Dell

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[sonofhistory]

It breaks my heart that Willie Pearse was going to see his brother for the last time, but while he was traveling there his brother was being executed.