‘Can you imagine a nationalist-run parliament in Ireland?’ responded William testily. ‘Ulster at least has been given a chance to vote on whether they wish to participate or not. Carson and his fellow Ulster MPs will never agree to sit with Redmond as leader in a new Irish parliament.’
‘It’s an intolerable state of affairs,’ complained Albert angrily, ‘with the nationalists demanding a parliament here in Dublin when we have a perfectly good parliament and representation in Westminster.’
‘The Government of Ireland Bill has passed through the House of Lords,’ said Frederick, ‘so there is not much more that can be done legally. Ulster will have their own vote to decide if they want to come under Dublin’s jurisdiction, but if they say no it means a divided Ireland.’
‘I’m afraid that Carson and his Ulster Volunteers will never accept Home Rule and not being part of the Union,’ said William. ‘And by all accounts, after Larne they have large numbers and are very well armed.’
‘Thank heaven for that, as we may well have need of them if this Home Rule nonsense persists,’ Henrietta interjected, her face flushed with annoyance.
‘Any Irish parliament would still report to the British one,’ Robert reminded them as he slowly sipped a glass of red wine. ‘But it most definitely is not an ideal situation for us to find ourselves in.’
‘It will go through,’ Frederick told them calmly. ‘It may be delayed but, as we all know, by law it will have to be passed.’
‘Why can’t the king interfere and put a stop to it?’ demanded Henrietta.
‘My dear, King George has apparently called a conference in Buckingham Palace to try to get the unionists and the nationalists to come to some sort of agreement on the Bill in the hopes of finding a resolution, but it is a very complex and difficult situation.’
‘I don’t envy him,’ sighed Iris. ‘They will never be able to reach agreement.’
‘I saw the Irish Volunteers brazenly training in the fields near our house,’ said Edward as the pudding was served. ‘They have huge numbers joining all across the countryside, prepared to fight for Home Rule and defend themselves from Carson and his forces.’
‘How sad – Irish men prepared to fight against other Irish men on the one island,’ tutted Iris.
‘It was ever so,’ nodded William. ‘Can anyone imagine an Irish parliament sitting in Dublin with Carson and Redmond at each other’s throats? What utter folly that would be!’
Everyone laughed aloud at the notion of it.
‘King George has more than enough on his plate given the shooting of Austria’s Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife in Serbia a few weeks ago and the instability that event has caused in the region,’ said Frederick in a worried voice, smoothing his moustache. ‘It’s like a lit tinder keg ready to blow up.’
‘It was a foul deed,’ interjected Dorothy to everyone’s agreement.
‘I fear Frederick is right. Home Rule is not the only issue with which we should be concerning ourselves,’ said Robert. ‘It’s Europe and the situation with Kaiser Wilhelm and his pledge to support Austria against Serbia that we need to worry about.’
‘I think it is time the ladies and I retired to the drawing room.’ Isabella stood up. To her mind there had been quite enough politicking for one night. The gentlemen got to their feet politely as she led her female guests next door.
‘A wonderful meal, dear Isabella,’ said Iris.
‘You and Frederick are such good hosts.’ Dorothy smiled warmly, patting the seat beside her.
Isabella accepted the compliments of their friends. Of late she found they entertained less and less, but she was glad that they had made the effort tonight and that Julia had proved such a good cook.
‘Is it true that Sidney has gone to America?’ enquired Florence.
‘Yes, I’m afraid the house seems quiet without her,’ replied Isabella as Julia came in to serve the coffee. ‘She sailed only a few weeks ago and is staying with Ada in New York, hoping to write for some of the papers and magazines there.’
‘She was always a clever little thing,’ said Iris. ‘No doubt the American editors will adore her.’
‘Three of our six are abroad,’ sighed Francesca. ‘Married and settled in Kenya and Canada, but it is still a blow when they sail off to the other side of the world.’
‘Sometimes I wish our boys were young and back playing cricket in the garden.’ Iris stirred her coffee thoughtfully. ‘Jerome and I do so awfully miss them. They are both so far away.’
‘In time their regiments will come home,’ Dorothy said kindly. Isabella tried not to think of her own children, especially Sidney taking off to America despite their objections. She worried how her youngest daughter was faring in New York. As for the boys, they rarely bothered to write or reply to her letters.
‘Did I tell you that our Jack has finally proposed to Sarah?’ interjected Florence excitedly. ‘They are planning to wed in September and will travel for three weeks in Italy for their honeymoon. It’s so romantic!’
Isabella relaxed as the ladies’ talk turned to family matters, which it always did until the men rejoined them. Despite the politics, she considered that the evening had been a great success.
Chapter 41
Muriel
MURIEL AND MACDONAGH walked around the house in Oakley Road in Ranelagh. Muriel instinctively liked it. There was a narrow entrance hall with a tiled floor, a good-sized drawing room and a smaller dining room which were not in any way as grand as her parents’ home in Temple Villas, but this was a smaller house that was well suited to a young family. The kitchen had a large range and a narrow window overlooking the garden; there was also a pantry and a scullery with a large Belfast sink. Upstairs there were four bedrooms.
She inspected the small water closet and the tiled green and white bathroom with its big cast-iron bath. It felt like a family home and was situated close to the tram stop, as well as to her parents’ and friends’ homes.
‘What do you think, Muriel?’ asked MacDonagh, who had been unable to hide his delight on discovering that 29 Oakley Road was for rent.
‘I think it will suit us very well,’ she said, meeting his eyes.
They walked around with Don, happily exploring the large garden.
‘He could have a swing here,’ MacDonagh pointed out, standing under a tall chestnut tree.
‘Are you sure we can afford the rent?’ she asked. They always seemed to struggle financially and she did not want to take on something that they could not possibly afford.
‘It is well within our limit,’ he assured her.
They moved into Sunnyside a week later.
Muriel loved their new house and only wished that MacDonagh was at home more to enjoy it, but he was often away, talking at Irish Volunteer rallies across the country, from Derry and Kilkenny to Tipperary. More and more people were turning up to hear him speak as he encouraged existing members and new recruits on the importance of drilling, training and being prepared to use arms. He and Roger Casement, a former diplomat, were determined that the Volunteers would become a strong nationalist force ready to protect their territory if necessary.
The Volunteers had raised money both at home and in America to purchase, with Casement’s help, a large shipment of arms from Germany which was due to arrive in the seaside village of Howth on Dublin’s north side in the Asgard, a boat owned by the writer Erskine Childers and his wife, Molly. MacDonagh had organized for the Volunteers to meet the boat and unload the rifles.
‘What happens if the police or army discover you?’ Muriel fretted.
‘We’ll see,’ was all he answered her.
He left early the next morning and Muriel busied herself by bringing Don to play in the park, trying to distract herself from fears of her husband’s arrest.
‘We got all our guns safely off the Asgard without discovery,’ he laughed proudly. ‘A troop of Scottish Borderers and a few DMP boys stopped us at Fairview to ask about our guns. It was a bit of a
stand-off but we told their major that the guns the men had were all their own and were not even loaded. You should have seen it, Muriel. They could prove nothing against us so they had to let us pass.’
‘Oh thank heaven I didn’t,’ she sighed, relieved.
Later a young lad came knocking at their door with a message for MacDonagh. He left immediately on hearing that the Scottish Borderers had attacked a crowd of people on Bachelor’s Walk, deliberately shooting and killing three people and injuring a score or more at least.
‘Why would the army do that?’ she asked, appalled.
‘Apparently the crowd jeered and taunted them about not catching us,’ he said, pulling on his jacket. ‘They threw fruit, maybe a few stones, at the soldiers. I don’t know exactly why and what happened yet, but the lad said the army just opened fire on the civilians.’
He was angry when he returned from town later that night. ‘As far as Britain is concerned there is one rule for the unionists and another for us nationalists,’ he raged. ‘The Ulster Volunteers can import guns and arm themselves in April, but when we try to do the same thing a few months later this is what happens. Innocent people are shot and injured. But their deaths will not go unmarked, for the Volunteers will provide a full guard of honour for their funerals.’
A few days later thousands of Volunteers carrying rifles formed a massive guard of honour that lined the streets of the city as the victims – an innocent teenage boy, a man and a woman – were taken for burial.
‘We are demonstrating our right to bear arms in public as much as the Orangemen in the north,’ MacDonagh and Eoin MacNeill insisted as they and their men fell into step, marching together with their rifles.
Muriel joined the large funeral procession with her sisters and friends from Cumann na mBan, Connolly’s Citizen Army and Na Fianna. As they slowly followed the three hearses drawn by black horses from Dublin’s Pro-Cathedral up towards Sackville Street, she felt a strange shiver of apprehension suddenly grip her. Catching her eye, Grace slipped her hand reassuringly inside hers as the three sisters walked together towards Glasnevin Cemetery.
Chapter 42
Isabella
ON 4 AUGUST the British Prime Minister, Herbert Asquith, with a heavy heart, declared war on Germany following its invasion of Belgium. His ultimatum to the Kaiser to withdraw his forces from that country had been ignored and now Britain was at war with Germany.
‘How could the assassination of the archduke possibly lead to this?’ Isabella asked.
‘I’m afraid this is exactly as I feared, my dear,’ sighed Frederick. ‘Following his nephew’s death the German Kaiser declared war on Serbia, which has forced Tsar Nicholas to react. So now we have the German army declaring war not only on Russia but also on France. The German invasion of Belgium has left the prime minister no other option but to enter the war. It’s like a contagion spreading across Europe with no way of halting it.’
‘I find all this talk of the Kaiser and the Tsar very complicated,’ she confessed as they took tea together, ‘but I respect the prime minister and his decision to go to the aid of Belgium. Let us hope this war is as they are saying, just a skirmish, and will be over by Christmas.’
Frederick made no reply as he helped himself to a sandwich.
‘You do think it will end quickly?’ she pushed.
‘Two mighty empires at war with each other …’ he said gravely. ‘Let’s hope that you are right, Isabella – that this war will be short, sharp and over before we know it, for otherwise the danger is that Europe will be torn asunder.’
A huge shadow was cast over the seaside town of Greystones as the implications of war began to sink in. They talked about little else as they promenaded along the seafront, as they picnicked on the beach, at afternoon tea parties and at the nightly concerts in the town.
Army barracks in Dublin city and across the countryside emptied as the Irish regiments were immediately ordered to fight on the Western Front. Lord Kitchener began an army recruitment campaign and patriotic young men flocked to join up.
‘The twins are already talking about joining up,’ Frances Heuston told Isabella anxiously as they attended an operetta in Greystones music hall. ‘They say all their friends are eager to play their part.’
‘The boys only want to do their duty for king and country,’ her husband added, ‘but they have no idea about the atrocities of war.’
Isabella worried for their own sons too. Liebert was already deployed in the navy, but she was thankful that Cecil and Ernest were both away.
‘Perhaps we are needlessly worrying and it will blow over quickly,’ murmured Frances hopefully as the band began to play.
But there was no end … no sense to it …
Isabella could hardly bear to look at the newspapers, for the war quickly escalated. Day after day young Irish men joined the Royal Irish Fusiliers and other regiments. Wives, families and sweethearts waved them off at the Dublin docks as they were sent to fight in Flanders and France, where they faced battle in miles of muddy, rat-infested trenches. There were horrific stories of mounted cavalry units and of horses and riders mowed down by pounding machine guns. Mons, the Marne, Ypres – one battlefield after another where so many brave young English, Scottish, Welsh and Irish men died or were injured. She could see fear and anxiety in the faces of their friends and neighbours as they waited for news of their sons.
‘They are fools,’ murmured Nellie angrily.
‘Nellie, I will not have you saying such things about brave Irish men prepared to do their duty and fight for a small nation like Belgium,’ scolded Frederick. ‘These young men all deserve your respect and loyalty for fighting in this great war.’
Chapter 43
Muriel
THE WAR WAS all anyone talked about. Young men full of bravado wanting to go off to fight against the Kaiser to teach Germany a lesson. Muriel’s own brothers itched to be a part of it too. Cecil, Ernest and even solid, reliable Claude were all considering enlisting.
‘I have some good news!’ She laughed as she told MacDonagh that they were expecting another child. She caught the flicker of apprehension in his eyes, her husband unable to disguise his concern for her health and wellbeing, fearing that she would be so very ill again during and after this pregnancy.
‘I am very well,’ she assured him. ‘I feel different this time – better. Tell me that you are pleased about it?’
‘Of course I am,’ he promised her, pulling her on to his lap. ‘We both know that all little Don wants is to have a brother or sister to play with.’
‘Then he will have a playmate next spring.’ She smiled, happy at the thought of their expanding family.
Muriel wrote to John telling her their news. From her sister’s letters it was clear that it was proving more difficult to find work as a journalist in New York than she had expected. She had met their old family friend John Yates whose portrait painting was much in demand, but unfortunately work for writers was scarce.
‘John should have stayed here – plenty for a journalist to write about with the war,’ said Grace sagely.
On his return from a heated meeting held in the Gaelic League in Parnell Square, MacDonagh had confided to his wife that Padraig’s suggestion that the Volunteers should concentrate on defending Ireland and securing its ports during the war had met some opposition, for Eamonn and some of their group believed that England’s calamity was the perfect opportunity to strike a blow for Ireland.
‘What do you believe?’ Muriel pressed him in alarm.
‘Ah, I’m torn over the whole thing,’ he sighed, slipping off his jacket and shoes.
The long-awaited Government of Ireland Bill had finally become law in mid-September, but MacDonagh was disappointed when the prime minister made it very clear that it was not possible to implement Home Rule and the formation of an Irish parliament until after the war.
‘While Britain is at war, Ireland is no longer a priority for Westminster,’ fretted MacDonagh. ‘I fear
that Home Rule will be delayed even further.’
‘But Asquith and parliament have promised it,’ she reasoned with him. ‘They will not renege on that.’
To his disbelief, John Redmond, leader of the Irish Parliamentary Party, had assured the prime minister that Ireland and the Volunteers were loyal to Britain and were prepared to fight in the war.
A week later, speaking at a massive Volunteer Rally in Woodenbridge, Redmond had called on their men not to shrink from duty by staying at home protecting Ireland’s shores but to enlist and join the field of battle.
‘You should have heard him, Muriel,’ MacDonagh said angrily. ‘He told our men to join the British army and do their duty by fighting because the interests of Ireland are at stake. And the worst of it is, the men listened to him and believed him.’
Her husband and Eoin MacNeill and others issued a statement in the Irish Review urging Volunteers not to enlist. MacDonagh, incensed, wrote and published ‘Twenty plain facts for Irishmen’, which outlined his belief that the role of the Volunteers was to protect Ireland and not to march off to fight under a ‘Union Jack flag’. Muriel was proud of her husband’s stance.
But it was futile. Words and wisdom were useless, for Redmond controlled much of the committee. There was a massive split in the Volunteers. The vast majority of the 170,000 members made the decision to follow Redmond’s leadership and enlist in his new National Volunteers, while only 10,000 men stayed on as Irish Volunteers.
MacDonagh, Eoin MacNeill and Padraig Pearse were brokenhearted. Thousands of men from all across Ireland whom they had trained and drilled had chosen to obey Redmond’s ‘call to arms’ and were now enlisted in the British army.
‘The fools, they believe what Redmond says – that the war won’t last and that once the war is over, parliament will honour its agreement and introduce Home Rule,’ MacDonagh said bitterly. ‘They have no idea what they are facing: miles of trenches, with bayonets and rifles against heavy machine guns. Far too many good men have already been lost and maimed, and now our lads will join them …’
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