MURIEL FINALLY FELT that she was returned to good health, and MacDonagh told her every day that he loved her and cared for her and that she was even more beautiful than ever. He also bought her a present – a wonderful box camera.
‘You can learn to use it yourself,’ he said and he taught her how to insert the film, adjust the focus and capture an image within the box.
Muriel was entranced, and she took photographs of the baby and of her husband and family, pleased with the results.
Her sisters invited her to join them at the Irish Women’s Franchise League’s Daffodil Day Fête in Molesworth Hall.
‘Everyone will be there. I am helping with the set for the tableau vivant,’ enthused Grace.
MacDonagh insisted that she join them and offered to mind little Don for the weekend.
Muriel received a warm welcome from Helena and all her friends. Many, like her, had enrolled at the beginning of April in Cumann na mBan, or the Irishwomen’s Council, the new women’s group that would work alongside the Irish Volunteers and which now included most of the members of Maud Gonne’s Daughters of Ireland.
For the ‘Tableau of Famous Women in History’, John had been chosen to play the brave Anne Devlin, the staunch young nationalist who had supported patriot Robert Emmet and had been tortured and imprisoned for her beliefs.
‘At least I don’t have to speak on stage,’ she grinned, her eyes sparkling dramatically. ‘I just have to look suitably broken but sad and strong.’
‘I told them that I am much better with a paintbrush,’ said Grace, who had refused to play a part.
Nellie had volunteered as usual to help organize refreshments for the large group over the two days.
Muriel soon found herself roped in by organizer Hanna Sheehy-Skeffington to play the part of Queen Maebh in the tableau.
‘Do say you will do it, Muriel dear. You are perfect for the role and everyone is giving a hand.’
Hanna could be very persuasive and before long Muriel had agreed.
She studied her costume – a long purple robe and a torc-type crown, with a huge Celtic brooch on her shoulder holding her flowing cloak of green. Countess Markievicz handed her a wooden spear and a cardboard shield to carry on stage. Muriel wasn’t at all sure this was what the legendary warrior queen, Maebh of Ulster, would actually look like; she suspected the colour of her hair was the only reason she had been selected to play such a part. She would have far preferred to be Florence Nightingale, but that role had gone to someone else.
Countess Markievicz was playing the warrior Joan of Arc and she certainly fitted the part in a suit of armour she had fashioned out of linoleum that had been painted silver; it looked very effective with high boots, some kind of fitted legging and a sword. Everyone clapped wildly when she appeared.
‘I could imagine her on a battlefield leading an army,’ whispered Grace, who had helped her with the costume.
The sight of Joan of Arc – this time played by Kathleen Heuston – being burned at the stake brought gasps from everyone as they watched her silent demise amidst the flames.
The tableau got a generous reception from a large female audience who were pleased to applaud their favourite heroines.
‘It makes a difference to see women instead of the usual male heroes,’ said Nellie approvingly, watching her sisters trying to remain perfectly still on stage.
Later the group turned their attention to discussing the important issue of women’s suffrage and Home Rule for Ireland.
The countess told them that there were three great movements going on at the same time – the national movement, the women’s movement and the industrial movement – but she believed that they were in essence the same movement, because they were all fighting the same fight for the extension of human liberty. Everyone agreed wholeheartedly, with Muriel, like her sisters, proud to be part of it all.
The fête ended the next day with a Cinderella Ball, at which the Women’s Orchestra provided the music and Muriel got up to dance with her sisters and friends, all laughing and spinning around the hall together.
MacDonagh had minded the baby and she could tell when she returned home that he was distracted.
‘We’ve had news that the Ulster Volunteers have got guns,’ he sighed heavily. ‘They have landed thousands of guns and rounds of ammunition at Larne and Bangor.’
‘Why would they do such a thing?’ she asked, alarmed.
‘Now Carson and his men are armed, the Ulster Volunteers will not budge on Home Rule. They are openly arming to fight it and us every inch of the way in order to stop it.’
‘But parliament and the prime minister have promised us that Home Rule for Ireland will come.’
‘Parliament will not be able to stop a force that is heavily armed and trained and prepared to defend the north of Ireland,’ he explained. ‘Without rifles we cannot expect to stop Carson and his Ulstermen’s demands to be governed by Westminster rather than Dublin. The Irish Volunteers may need to arm too if we want to defend Home Rule.’
‘But how would you afford such weapons?’
‘We would have to fundraise, not only here but in America.’ His eyes were serious.
‘And what happens if you are both armed?’ she asked, worried.
‘Then I’m afraid there could be a war between us, as we both want different things. We want an independent Ireland with our own parliament here in Dublin, and the unionists want to be governed by Westminster and to have nothing to do with us.’
Muriel felt suddenly afraid, frightened by her husband’s talk of guns and fighting and war. She went to look at their small son sleeping in his cot. MacDonagh was an intelligent, bright man. Surely he and his fellow Volunteers would never let such a thing happen?