Irish History: Families frequently lament that they failed to record or document the experiences of relations who were steeped in the dramas of the Irish War of Independence.
This book is a product of the determination of the Brugha family to avoid such regret, by persuading their mother, in the twilight of her life, to tell her story. The resulting book may not have the polish of a sophisticated academic history, but it tells the tale of a fascinating life. It is chatty, engaging and filled with interesting characters, most notably the fiercely independent republican women who dominated the author's childhood. It is also superbly illustrated, containing a beautiful collection of photographs and correspondence from the early 20th century.
The daughter of the mayor of Cork, Terence MacSwiney, who died after a 73-day hunger strike in Brixton Prison in 1920, Máire later married Ruairí Brugha, son of Cathal Brugha, killed at the outset of the Irish Civil War. Máire's mother, Muriel, was a cruel, erratic and mentally ill woman who, Máire records, simply "did not understand how to bring up a child . . . history deprived me of my father. My mother deprived me of herself".
Her mother moved them both to Germany in the aftermath of her father's death when Máire was still an infant, and she was brought up in that country with no knowledge of her background. At the age of 14 her aunt, Mary MacSwiney, sister of Terence, brought her back to Ireland, though she strongly refutes the description of this as a kidnap. Subsequently, she was the subject of a court case in which, sensibly, the judge asked about her own preference as to where she should live. She chose to stay in Ireland and went to live at Scoil Íte, the only lay school in Cork, which was run by her aunt.
She spent many holidays in the Kerry Gaeltacht with family and friends and, in common with many memoirs of happy childhoods, she recalls idyllic summers. Although, occasionally, the narrative is somewhat rambling, there is enough to keep the reader engrossed. Máire resisted the attempts by her mother to take her out of the country again and forged her own identity with the help of her aunt Mary, and she is at pains to deconstruct the common perception of Mary - and indeed Cathal Brugha - as unreasonable extremists, which she sees as a crude reiteration of "British propaganda". Mary, she records, was kind and warm-hearted and was also taken advantage of by republicans, who, even when she was ill, forced her to speak from the backs of lorries when on the campaign trail. Curiously, the author attacks those who signed the Treaty of 1921, as she believes partition was "the devastating effect of the Treaty". This is untrue (partition was a reality before the Treaty) and its inaccuracy and crudeness sit uncomfortably alongside the tone of the rest of the book.
An impressive arts student at UCC, Máire also continued to travel to Europe and "received a broad and cultural education as a result of my twin identities". Initially, she was worried about a life with Ruairí Brugha, given the constraints of extreme republican politics, but as it turned out, Brugha was more concerned with constitutional politics, and there is much information on his subsequent public life in Fianna Fáil, which she fully supported while raising their four children. Given the turbulence of her early life, her capacity to adjust and thrive is testament to her formidable spirit.
History's Daughter, By Máire MacSwiney Brugha, O'Brien Press, 320pp. €27.95
Diarmaid Ferriter lectures in Irish history at St Patrick's College, DCU. His book The Transformation of Ireland 1900-2000 (Profile Books) is now in paperback
