My family’s tale of the 1916 Irish Easter Rising

Let’s start the new year with a bit of family lore. I have written about a couple of my maternal grandmother’s brothers – Matthew Jr. and Ernest before, well, here’s a tale about their brother, my great-uncle Frank Deegan. My great-grandparents moved from Dublin to London shortly after their marriage; in fact, Matthew Sr. had already moved to London, secured a place to live, and returned for their wedding. Once they settled in the Marlybone area in the 1880’s they set about growing their family.

If you are at all familiar with Irish history, you will be aware that in 1916 Irish’rebels’ had another fight in store that would come to be known as the Easter Rising.

In 1889 their son Frank was born. In 1916, as World War One raged in the trenches of France, twenty-eight-year-old Frank, like all good lads, was a member of the English Army. I don’t know what his father thought about this, but nonetheless, Frank signed-on to defend king and country. If you are at all familiar with Irish history, you will be aware that in April of 1916 Irish ‘rebels’ had another fight in store for the English that would come to be known as the Easter Rising.

This attempt to oust the English from Ireland to their west, while the former was fighting a war to their east, was kept top secret. Details of the events of Easter Week 1916 can be found elsewhere. During the Easter weekend of 1916, a family member was to be Christened in Dublin. I am not aware of who this person was, but if you know, I’d love to find out! My great uncle Frank was on leave from the battlefield and decided to cross the Irish Sea and attend the sacred event.

Not long after his arrival, all hell broke loose. The rising began, albeit a day late, and many of the streets of Dublin were reduced to a war zone. The story goes that the infant who was to be baptised, or may have indeed been baptised, was placed in a drawer in a dresser for safety’s sake.

I imagine it did not take long for them to realize that at that point, moving through the streets of Dublin in an ‘enemy’ uniform was not the best of ideas.

Further details about the Christenting expedition have been lost, with one exception. When my Frank set out to return to London and thence France, his leave being over, all he had to wear was his English Army uniform. I imagine it did not take long for them to realize that at that point in time, moving through the streets of Dublin in an ‘enemy’ uniform was not the best of ideas. Therefore, he had to borrow ‘civvies’ to wear to ensure he was not shot at. Evidently, he made it home safely. The inscription on the back of the above photo indicates it was taken a year later.

Frank’s daughter Mary, would meet and marry a Canadian soldier during World War Two, move to Canada with him, and raise their family.