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 …’
‘But you still have your core of men in the Volunteers,’ said Muriel as she tried to soothe him. ‘The ones you can trust and depend on.’
‘Yes, we are badly reduced but the men we have now are committed to our cause, to Ireland,’ he agreed, but he was unable to hide his crushing disappointment and disillusion from her.
For those remaining Irish Volunteers, training became even more intense. Gun handling and shooting practice in rifle ranges were held a few times a week and war games were organized between Volunteer companies. MacDonagh, appointed director of Training for the whole country, insisted on discipline from all members and even set up a sniping division.
Muriel admired his determination but worried that her husband was doing too much, writing on his typewriter, engrossed in working on the script of a new play, Pagans, which he hoped would be staged in the Irish Theatre. He even wrote ‘Freedom Hill’, a song for the Volunteers, which he would sing for her and Don. It constantly amazed her that the man she loved seemed to have such endless energy and stamina, never tiring and finding everything around him interesting.
‘Ask a busy person …’ he joked as he set off to give a lecture in the university.