Elizabeth O’Farrell

Saturday 8 March is international Womens Day. A day to celebrate all of the wonderful achievements of women, whether those close to you or those who have shaped society in the past or present. Thinking of influential names of Irish women of the past a number of names come to mind. But today I was wondering about Elizabeth O’Farrell, the nurse who accompanied Patrick Pearse in 1916 to the surrender with General Lowe and others. O’Farrell has been at times airbrushed from history, most notably in the image of the surrender where she is partly hidden from the camera. In 1933 the Irish Press remarked on the heroics of O’Farrell during Easter Week:

EARLY on the Saturday morning the Republicans in the houses along Moore Street knew exactly how they were placed: there was no hope at all of breaking through to the Four Courts. It would just be a case of waiting while the British dragged up their big guns and began the G.P.O. plan all over again. More houses would be destroyed and burnt, more soldiers, and many civilians killed, and then—nothing but death or surrender amid falling walls and smoke and flame. About mid-day a council of war was held in the back-room of No. 16. Present were Pearse, Clarke, Plunkett, MacDiarmada, and, lying on a couch, Connolly.

The first the others knew of the result of their deliberations was when Sean MacDiarmada came out and quietly asked one of the Cumann na mBan girls " if she had anything white out of which they could make a flag." All that heard him knew what this meant: it was the end.

They made a rough flag out of a piece of white cotton and hung it out of the window as he directed. The same girl, Elizabeth O'Farrell, was called in to Pearse and he gave her a message that "the Commandant-General of the Irish Republican Army wished to treat with the Commandant-General of the British Forces in Ireland."

The Fire Stops.

Then this brave girl, holding the white flag over her, stepped out into bullet-swept Moore Street and walked up unfalteringly towards the barricade at the Parnell Street end. Inside her two companions watched her breathlessly, with lumps in their throats, afraid that every minute they would see the gallant little figure totter and fall. But as she advanced the fire slackened and finally stopped. She crossed the barricade and gave her message to the officer in charge, a Colonel Portal, a man of a very domineering type, who, after a suspicious cross-examination sent her up the street to Tom Clarke's shop. In this house Brigadier-General Lowe had his headquarters. This officer behaved, as he did all through his subsequent dealings with the leaders, with quiet politeness, not untinged with a recognition of the worth of his opponents. His answer to Pearse's message was, however, curt and decisive: lie would not treat at all, he wanted an unconditional surrender. He gave her a note for Pearse as well. Something, however, in this note seems to have caused some doubt in the minds of the leaders; and for the second time Elizabeth O'Farrell was sent up to Lowe. He read Pearse's message, then turned to her and said: " Go back and tell Mr. Pearse that I will not treat at all unless he surrenders’ caused a stir through the whole country.

Tom Clarke Speaks.

It was three o'clock when this message was brought to them. There was a very short discussion and then the terms were agreed to. "I am satisfied," said Clarke afterwards " and so should you be ... Ireland will be alright for the future." For the third time Elizabeth O'Farrell went up Moore Street and this time Pearse strode silent at her side. The conversation with Lowe was a short one; he gave up his sword; and it was agreed that Elizabeth O'Farrell should bring the order of surrender to the other commands. Then after shaking hands quietly with the girl, he stepped into a motor-car, Lowe's son sat by his side, and they drove down O'Connell Street to the pit in Arbour Hill. "It would be interesting to know" said a British officer who watched them speeding away " how many German marks that fellow has in his pocket."—the inevitable incomprehension of the English.

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