Maud Gonne & Seán MacBride

Samois cemetery. Georges Silvère was interred in the white crypt to the right

Is it not strange that two of the most fervent (and least likeable) Irish “republicans” were not Irish at all? Neither Maud Gonne (Aldershot, England, 1866-Dublin, 1953) nor her son, Seán MacBride (Normandy, France, 1904 - Dublin, 1988) were born on Irish shores. Maud Gonne’s mother was English, her military father only vaguely of Irish descent, and she herself was born in England. Her son was born in France and was baptised as Jean Seagan. But let us not quibble.

Maud Gonne had a rich and varied life in Paris. She originally started out as an actress before she met Lucien Millevoye, a right-wing politician and journalist who supported the failed putschist, Général Boulanger. To be near Millevoye, she took an apartment at 61, Ave. de Wagram (16th arrondissement), but when she gave birth to Millevoye’s son – called Georges Silvère – she moved to a larger flat nearby at 66, Avenue de la Grande Armée (17th arrondissement). She was to change residence at least three more times before leaving Paris definitively in the autumn of 1917 – but she would never leave the beaux quartiers at the western end of the city.

The Association Irlandaise HQ in rue des Martyrs

Her son died of meningitis on Aug. 31, 1891 and is buried in the village of Samois, near Fontainbleau. For some time, she hid the existence of this illegitimate child from a number of people, including her friend-cum-lover, W.B. Yeats. Gonne told Yeats that Georges Silvère had been adopted. In August 1894, another child was born from her relationship with Millevoye. This was Iseult, who Gonne passed off as her “adopted niece” and who was to marry Francis Stuart.

From April 1895 to late 1902, Gonne lived at 7, avenue d’Eylau (16th arrondissement). It was during this period that she started a newspaper called L’Irlande Libre to support the cause of Irish nationalism and as part of the build-up to the centenary of the 1798 rebellion. With editorial offices at 6, rue des Martyrs (9th arrondissement) the first of 18 issues (plus one “special issue”) came out on May 1, 1897. At the same time, with the help of Yeats, she founded the Young Ireland Society (or Association Irlandaise), also with an address at 6, rue des Martyrs. One member of the Association was J.M. Synge, a student of linguistics and acolyte of Yeats. But Synge had little time for the histrionics of Gonne and the "Fenian" turn she gave to the Association Irlandaise and soon drifted away.

17, rue de l'Annonciation

Maud Gonne’s long affair with Millevoye had been over for some time before she met and married Major John MacBride, who had formed an Irish Brigade to fight with the Boers against the British in South Africa. They married at the Church of St. Honoré d’Eylau in 1903 (Gonne having converted to Catholicism shortly beforehand) – but Gonne sought a divorce just two years later, accusing McBride of debauchery, adultery and even attempted rape on her half-sister (or daughter?). McBride, executed as one of the leaders of the 1916 Rebellion was, it seemed, a violent drunkard. But the short-lived marriage produced one son, Seán (or Jean Seagan) MacBride, whose birth the Dublin newspapers signaled as “the arrival of the latest Irish rebel”. He spent the first eight years of his life with his mother and step-sister at an apartment at 13, rue de Passy (16th arrondissement). But in 1912 this house was pulled down and the one-parent family was forced to move some 500 metres down the road to 17, rue de l’Annonciation (16th arrondissement).

When the First World War broke out, Maud Gonne worked at the auxiliary military hospital housed in the Lycée Janson-de-Sailly at 106, rue de la Pompe in her beloved 16th arrondissement. She also organised a military hospital at Le Touquet on the northern French coast – but, according to her son, stipulated that she would only care for French soldiers, not British ones. The family remained at rue de l’Annonciation until autumn 1917, when Maud Gonne decided she could stir up more trouble in Ireland than in France.

The French connection does not end there. His son was back in Paris, via Boulogne-sur-Mer, in 1920, on a mission to obtain arms on behalf of the IRA. But the go-between he met in Boulogne, a gangster of some sort, did not inspire the confidence of the young Seán MacBride. They took the train together to Paris, with MacBride repeatedly telling the gangster that he would think about his offer to raid a French arms dump. Here is the rest of his account: He {the gangster) got up from his seat and walked out into the corridor to smoke a cigarette: suddenly, I saw his face grow pale and his face become that of a hunted man. He started running down the corridor. The sound of footsteps, running. A group of policemen rushed by, each of them holding a pistol. But the go-between half-opened the door of the train carriage and threw himself out of the train in the middle of the night. The train didn’t stop.

MacBride was later known in press clubs as ‘Death takes a holiday’ – a reference to his incessant womanising (especially on his diplomatic trips to Paris and Strasbourg) combined with conspicuous religiosity.

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