Willie was reunited with his mother after she had recuperated, but the experience traumatised the entire Pearse family. Patrick later recalled:
It was a long time before my mother came down to us again. When she did come, looking very pale, one of the first things she did (after pressing my sister and myself to her heart) was to go over and kiss Dobbin; and in gratitude for that gracious kiss I told her that I would consider the little brother (who returned to us the same day) entitled equally with me to bestride that noble steed, as soon as his little legs should have the necessary length and strength to grip on. For the present they were obviously too fat for any such equestrian exercise.16
The final addition to the Pearse family arrived in April 1884; Mary Bridget (later changed to Mary Brigid) was named after her two grandmothers and her arrival generated much excitement in the Pearse household. When the nurse announced that the doctor had brought them a little sister, the children enquired from her how much their father had paid for the little girl; she replied, £100. On the day of her birth, their mother placed the infant in the arms of her siblings.17
Less than three months after Mary Brigid’s birth, on 5 July 1884, Emily married Alfred Ignatius McGloughlin, an architect and son of her father’s friend John, at St Andrew’s Church, Westland Row. Margaret was a junior bridesmaid at the wedding and Patrick carried his half-sister’s train from the carriage into the church. Emily described Patrick as ‘a comely little page, royally dressed in ruby velvet and heavy lace, a truly princely little figure; reserved, shy, and silent, with a wonderfully calm self-possession which sat strangely on his small figure’.18
Margaret, Patrick and Willie enjoyed Emily’s wedding, in particular, the apple pie served at the wedding breakfast. It was not until the arrival of their beloved Auntie Margaret at the kids’ table, however, that they were completely at ease. Emily’s gift to Margaret and Patrick for carrying out their roles so competently at the wedding was a scrapbook into which she pasted thousands of pictures; images of dragons, fairies and giants, as well as red-coated huntsmen, circus horses, harlequins and clowns. Patrick and Margaret spent many hours savouring ‘a book that was full of echoes from a world of romantic and far adventure’, which was so large that it took two children to lift.19 The departure of Emily from the Pearse home left a void in the life of the children. The family, however, maintained close ties with Emily and Alfred’s children, Emily Mary (b.1885), Margaret Mary (b.1886) and Alfred Vincent (b.1888). Indeed, the Pearses were an important support for Emily and her children when Alfred went to New York seeking work and never returned to his family. Left alone, Emily struggled to raise her children and they were placed in an orphanage.20
With his second family, James Pearse enjoyed the idyllic home life that had been absent from his first marriage. Margaret was a loving wife and mother with a kind and gentle nature. James was a quiet, mild-mannered man whose deep reserve disappeared when he tenderly embraced each of his children before putting them to bed. James was devoted to his family and took a keen interest in his children’s diet and general well-being. In some of the letters written while he was away on business in England, however, he comes across as bossy and occasionally neurotic. He often wrote to his wife instructing her to ensure that she and the children ate nourishing food, were properly attired so they would not catch cold and were cautious around the fire. In one letter, James even reminded his wife to put into a cool place, the succulent beef and ham he had purchased before his departure for England.21 He encouraged Margaret to bring the children to the seaside on sunny days but cautioned that she should ‘be extremely careful with the kiddies’ in case they might catch cold.22 All letters to his wife ended affectionately with kisses for the children: ‘[k]iss the children dearest for me. Also let them kiss you on my account’23 and ‘[t]ell Wow wow and Pat to give you some bigger [kisses] for Papa.’24
James’s personal happiness coincided with a period of professional success and a foray into the world of political commentary. He kept abreast of political developments in England and was a supporter of the radical Liberal MP, Charles Bradlaugh. James was particularly interested in the agitation for Home Rule and, in 1886, wrote ‘A Reply to Professor Maguire’s pamphlet “England’s duty to Ireland” as it appears to an Englishman’ in which he lambasted Maguire’s criticism of the Home Rule movement and his offensive anti-nationalist commentary. The publication of this pamphlet, funded entirely by himself, was the culmination of many years of self-education. Recognising the importance of education, James enrolled Margaret and Patrick, aged eight and seven, at a private school run by Mrs Murphy and her daughter at 28 Wentworth Place, Dublin (now Hogan Place), in 1886. They studied a variety of subjects there and were also enrolled in dance classes with Madam Lawton. By all accounts, Patrick did not enjoy the experience and during his time at school labelled Mrs Murphy ‘the presiding dragon’.25
Within a few months of starting school, the family moved to a new house. The expansion of James’s business and family necessitated a move to a larger house and the property on Newbridge Avenue, Sandymount, with its large garden and apple trees, appealed to the young Pearse children, who spent many happy hours there playing with James Vincent and their cousins. However, within a few months of moving to Sandymount, Patrick contracted scarlet fever, an infectious disease that also affected Willie. Their mother’s paternal aunt, Margaret, moved in with the family to tend to the sick boys while the girls moved back to Great Brunswick Street, which had not been sold but was rented out to other families, thus providing an additional source of income for the Pearse family.
Auntie Margaret, as she was called by the children, was a strong influence on the young Pearse siblings and the stories she told shaped their imaginations. Although James’s father and his older and younger brothers, William and Henry, visited the family in Dublin on a few occasions, the Pearse children had little contact with their father’s extended family. In contrast, the children were frequent visitors to their mother’s relations and were very familiar with the history of the Brady family. Their colourful ancestors were brought to life by their beloved Auntie Margaret. She regaled the young Pearse children with stories about their great-great-grandfather, Walter Brady, and his family’s involvement in the 1798 Rebellion. Walter was a Cavan man who settled in Nobber, County Meath and fought in the Rebellion; his brother was hanged by the Yeomanry and another brother was buried at the Croppies’ Grave at Tara. The family of their great-grandfather, also Walter Brady, were native Irish speakers and steeped in Gaelic culture. Walter had an impressive repertoire of Irish- and English-language songs. He, his wife Margaret (née O’Connor) and eight children, later moved to Dublin to avoid the ravages of famine in north County Meath, but, as a child, his daughter (Auntie Margaret) fondly remembered social gatherings in their home accompanied by music, storytelling and dancing.
The storytelling tradition was perpetuated by Auntie Margaret, who entertained the Pearse children with the legends of Fionn and the Fianna and stories about Robert Emmet, Theobald Wolfe Tone and Napoleon Bonaparte. She sang political ballads about those who died in the 1798 Rebellion and the Fenian Rising of 1867, and the children particularly enjoyed her rendition of ‘The Old Grey Mare’ (see Appendix 1). Louis Le Roux acknowledged the influence of this elderly grand-aunt who had witnessed the birth of major political and cultural movements in the nineteenth century such as Young Ireland, the Irish Republican Brotherhood, and the Land League. He noted that ‘[s]he had wept with Ireland, hoped with Ireland and prayed with Ireland for three-quarters of a century.’26
Whether she was tending to the Pearse children during illness or just calling to visit, the diminutive figure of Auntie Margaret, her kindly wrinkled face, grey hair tied back in a net and black dress with collar buttoned to the throat, was always welcome.27 At Sandymount or Great Brunswick Street, they recognised her step on the stairs, ran to greet her, and spent hours creating marvellous stories about the sights and sounds of their neighbourhood. They were fascinated by the doctors making their way to the Children’s Hospital, by the sounds of the trams and the mail cars en route to Westland Row, and, in particular, by the man detaching his van from a grey horse and then rewarding the horse’s arduous day’s work with a feedbag.28
The care and love shown by Auntie Margaret
