Theobald Wolfe Tone was regarded as a man with numerous skills, and indeed he was. To commemorate the 225th commemoration of Theobald’s passing, the most recent edition of History Ireland has claimed that Theobald wrote “the finest diaries ever written by an Irishman”. According to Thomas Bartlett, retired professor of Irish history at the University of Aberdeen, in his article for this special edition, he suggests that Theobald’s journals hold a unique and timeless appeal.
Penned in Paris during 1796 and 97, Bartlett shares how Tone’s diaries revealed his penchant for irony and self-deprecating humour, his intolerance for anything that could be perceived as pretentious, and a certain lightness of spirit and joviality that readers have found captivating since.
A recent trending topic of discussion in this column has been the inevitable standing ovations given to even middling performances in Dublin. However, in this context, perhaps Theobald had more interesting experiences to record.
While in attendance at a Parisian revolutionary theatre performance, he observed that the utterance of the word “slavery” acted like a “jolt of electricity to the audience”. Furthermore at the lyric “aux armes citoyens” in La Marseillaise, “all the performers unsheathed their swords”. Following a performance of the national anthem, “around one hundred National Guard members surged onto the stage with their bayonets ready, swords out, and the tricolour flag waving proudly.”
In his diary, he wrote, “The impression of this sight was beyond description,” he noted in his diary. “I had never understood what true enthusiasm was until now.”
Trinity College historian Sylvie Kleinman, in her contribution to the edition, remarks that there’s frequent confusion between Tone’s diaries and his autobiography, despite their distinct stylistic approaches. While his autobiography possesses a grave and serious tone, his diaries project a more light-hearted and reflective mood. Interestingly, Kleinman observes, even at his lightest, Tone’s diaries had a profound influence on future Irish revolutionaries like Ernie O’Malley. O’Malley, in his chronicle of the turbulent time from 1916 to 1923, commends Tone for recording such personal disclosures as “Drunk again” in his journals, observations that rendered him relatable and human.
On another note, despite being a fervent Protestant patriot, Tone was known to display an air of superiority about Catholicism’s majority, taking advantage of their susceptibility to alcohol in his recruitment strategies. A strategy to recruit Irish prisoners of war in France into the French army is a case in point. Tone rather confidently suggested exploitation of the Irish penchant for drink, planning to hoodwink the POWs by sending in copious amounts of wine and brandy, a violin and French women of pleasure. Once softened by love and wine, “Pat” as Tone fondly refers, would be more amenable to the idea of a journey back to Ireland.
There’s also emphasis on Theobald Wolfe Tone Fitzgerald in the History Ireland special as a fitting tribute to Wolfe Tone. Fitzgerald, born on the centenary in 1898, was christened in honour of Tone in a show of patriotism. Raised in this spirit, he participated in the 1916 uprising and later seized possession of the Viceregal Lodge in 1922 as a captain in the National Army. But as pointed out by writer Donal Fallon, Fitzgerald hailing from a family of painters, his noteworthy contribution to the independence movement was daubing the words “Irish Republic” on the green flag, in hues of orange and white that fluttered atop the GPO during Easter Week.
Work was carried out at the residence of Countess Markievicz in Rathmines during Easter Thursday. Regrettably, as I previously stated in a column (Irishman’s Diary, 5th September, 2015), echoing the words of a Cumann na mBan member also in attendance, there was an infiltrator present. Subsequently, the flag was targeted before it even made it to the GPO.
“Whenever she was up to something, Madame’s dog, Poppet, inevitably wanted to participate,” Maire Mackey reminisced over fifty years on, in 1968, “and continually leapt up, tugging at the fabric until he finally ripped a section from the side. To this day, this piece remains absent, as I highlighted when the Kildare Street museum displayed the flag during the Golden Jubilee celebration”.
I am uncertain if Mackey’s memory clarifies the current condition of the flag, which is now displayed at Collins Barracks’ National Museum, missing a significant part of the “C”. Regardless of the outdated Wolfe Tone’s republic, Theobald Wolf Tone Fitzgerald’s painted “Republic” is still a work in progress. Countess Markievicz’s cocker spaniel appears to be among those implicated in these circumstances.