Unlikely Rebels by Anne Clare Page B

burial in his native land. There was dignity and a reverence for the old warrior in the thousands who lined the route and in the marching feet representing every Irish Ireland ideology and every organisation, however insignificant, involved in the movement.
    If the funeral itself was impressive, Pearse’s oration at the grave was electrifying. Even the cadence of his words was intrinsically dramatic, and the concluding triad rang out unforgettably in the hushed air, challenging the might of England with its simple thirteen words:
    The fools, the fools, the fools: they have left us our Fenian dead.
    Pearse, the poet and dreamer, who was certainly no Sarsfield mili-tarily speaking, mesmerised his listeners with his monosyllabic challenge. It was a defining day in Irish history. [4]
    Reaction around the city was divided, as in the Gifford household: the daughters deeply moved and involved, their mother indignant at such fuss about a Fenian and their father feeling, perhaps, a little uneasy about the future.
    Notes
    [ 1 ] Gifford-Czira, The Years Flew By , p. 40.
    [ 2 ] Conversation with Fr Dermot Brangan, SJ, Hong Kong Mission (grandson of Superintendent Brangan).
    [ 3 ] Conversation with John Murphy, Molly Brohoon’s grandson, librarian in All Hallows library.
    [ 4 ] A lady to whom I spoke was there that day and remembered the hushed atmosphere as the words rang out in the clear air, with the accompaniment of faint twittering of birds and the slight, but audible, shift of gravel near the graveside.

29 - Their Entrances and Exits
    After the deaths of Ada, Grace and Kate, the surviving sisters, Nellie and ‘ John’, were inevitably brought closer together. Their lifestyles were still very different, ‘ John’ fraternising with her more ‘arty’ friends and Nellie, described by Eddie Kelly as ‘down to earth’, contentedly living with her daughter Maeve and engaging herself in such a variety of activities as to exclude any suggestion that she had ‘settled down’. Apart altogether from housekeeping and her beloved garden, among her more sedentary occupations was a keen interest in her forebears, though even this involved some footwork. There was nothing to glean from her father’s ‘only child’ status, but her mother’s colourful background was a rich field to harvest.
    Meanwhile, Nellie continued to correspond with Gabriel and signed off a letter of 19 April 1958 with the phrase ‘Till next week – Love to you three, Nellie’. [1] There is a gap in the correspondence – Gabriel has moved house. Finally, there is a copy of a letter Nellie sent to Mary dated 15 December 1960. It is, sadly, addressed to Gabriel’s widow. Nellie speaks, among other things, of how her brother always loved children and they him. So, as far as records are available, the last of the Gifford Palatine Pact sons, baptised Catholic but Protestant and unionist each one to his life’s end, had passed on. All that remained now of the Temple Villas Giffords were Nellie and ‘John’.
    Though Nellie had written to Gabriel about her diminished sense of patriotism, there is no indication of that diminution in another of her hobbies – preserving newspaper cuttings. They represent, in fact, a sort of history of pre- and post-Treaty Ireland and are a treasure trove for researchers. The 1930s’ and 1940s’ letters and articles constitute a mini-history of the Rising and the exhibition. Apart from the press reports on Grace’s funeral, there is a lull for the 1950s. With the approaching advent of the half-century anniversary of the Rising, however, Nellie’s patriotic feeling, never dead, is obviously rekindled, with family interest also appearing now and then.
    In this mélange of 1916 memorabilia, Nellie has also cut out from some newspaper a short, illustrated article on the symbol chosen by the Government for the 1916 commemorative events: the