The girls here range in age from fourteen to twenty-two years. Several are displaced royalty with titles that ceased to be meaningful after the Versailles Treaty redrew European boundaries. One is even a princess. (I told her I was a Republican but she did not seem to understand what that meant.) We have a White Russian whose parents barely escaped the Russian Revolution, and a pair of blond twins from Florence (they are very elegant and actually paint their faces!), and the daughter of a Czechoslovakian diplomat, and an Austrian whose father was an Olympic skier, and a Turkish girl who was born in a harem.
Some of the girls complain because we have to make our own beds. Even the princess must. Madame says it is good for our character. (I must have lots of character already because I have always made my own bed.) We do not wash our own clothing, though. A number of laundresses are employed because a lady never does washing.
European languages are compulsory, so I am taking both French and German. My Latin will help me with French. Only two other girls are studying German since the Germans are still under a cloud because of the war. Our teacher, Madame Dosterschill, is a gentle, cultured woman. Her eyes twinkle when she makes little jokes in German. It is difficult to equate her with the savage Boche who slaughtered so many of the Irish at the Somme. I have to hold two quite contradictory images in my head.
Some of my other courses are art, music, etiquette, and deportment. We practice walking around with books from Surval’s library balanced on our heads. I tend to stop and read mine when no one is looking.
Did you know it is considered vulgar to use contractions in everyday conversation? Papa taught me not to use them in letters, but I do not know if I can eliminate them when I speak. I would not sound like me.
The best thing that happens in boarding school is receiving parcels from home. Please tell Ella the clothes she bought for me are perfect. (Meaning they are what everyone else is wearing.) The short skirts are the latest style but are not really practical in a cold climate. I suppose I shall get used to them. Perhaps my skin needs to be educated too.
We are encouraged to observe our own religious practices, which are diverse, as you can imagine. The Italians and I go down to the village for Confession and Mass, always accompanied by a member of the school staff. Madame allows no girl to step outside the gates without a chaperone. Catholic Ireland is no stricter than Surval.
However on some weekends students are taken to Paris, Prague, Munich, or Florence, to absorb the culture. There is an extra charge for these trips. I hate spending more of Ella’s money when she has been so generous already, but oh, Henry! Just think of seeing Prague!
As soon as I leave school I shall get a job and pay back every penny.
Would you please send newspapers from home to read in my room at night so I don’t have to talk to this wretched Felicity person? I am particularly hungry for current news and feature articles. But send the minutiae too, even the advertisements.
Love,
Ursula
When he finished reading Ursula’s letter Henry folded it up and put it into his pocket to share with Ella. “Deportment indeed,” he chuckled to himself. “What will they make of a girl who strides out like a boy and says what she thinks?”
The following day he went to Glasnevin Cemetery. Dark yews weeping. Tombstones like rows of crooked teeth. Henry made his way to the Republican plot and walked back and forth, reading the names. O’Donovan Rossa. Cathal Brugha. Erskine Childers. Thomas MacDonagh’s wife Muriel.
John O’Leary—of whom Yeats wrote—” Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone, it’s with O’Leary in the grave.”
Síle Duffy Halloran.
Here he stopped. Uncovering his head, Henry stood holding his soft trilby in both hands. For a long time he did not move. Then he slowly sank to his knees. “I’m doing my best, Síle,” he whispered to the listening earth.
16 October 1925
BRITAIN, BELGIUM, FRANCE, AND GERMANY SIGN MUTUAL SECURITY PACT
Former Enemies Vow Never to Fight Again
14 November 1925
IRISH REPUBLICAN ARMY CONVENTION VOTES SUPREME AUTHORITY TO ARMY COUNCIL
10 December 1925
DÁIL SANCTIONS BORDER AGREEMENT
Eamon de Valera Claims Agreement Enshrines Partition and Abandons
Tens of Thousands of Northern Catholics
Chapter Five
10 December 1925
Dear Uncle Henry,
This has been my first autumn away from home, though I am not sure what I mean by “home” any more. Clare seems so far away. Switzerland is beautiful, very neat and clean, with astonishing mountains, yet I long for golden fields at harvest time, and the way the mist turns the hills of Clare to fawn-coloured velvet. I even miss our gray bleak winters, when it rains for weeks and the turf smoke from the fireplaces permeates everything. Not neat, not clean, but home.
Papa never answers my letters. Aunt Norah writes that he forbids my name to be mentioned at the farm. Since you and Ella will be sailing for America in April, I cannot think of the Sandymount house as home, either. I am hanging in space like a star.
That sounds self-pitying but I do not mean it that way. I am grateful for this opportunity. I am making friends and wonder of wonders, I am even learning to ski. My instructor says I am fearless. My favorite companion on the slopes is the Austrian girl, Heidi Fromm, who allows me to practice my execrable German on her.
There are also stables here, and horse riding, but it is not the same as being with Saoirse. I brought his bridle with my things and hung it on the wall of my room. Other horses seem like poor imitations.
Thank you for inviting me to spend Christmas with you and Ella. I appreciate the offer, but the sight of your packing cases would make me too sad. If I do not see you preparing to leave it will not be so real for me.
There was another reason for her reluctance. Ned Halloran’s parents had gone down with the Titanic, a tragedy that nearly claimed his life as well. Young Precious had learned the details by eavesdropping on adult conversations. When Ned spoke of “the dark sea, waiting”—an image that would haunt him all his life—the horror in his voice had a profound effect on the listening child.
Years later, when Ursula boarded the passenger steamer that would carry her to the Continent, her stomach had clenched in unexpected panic. The girl who prided herself on her physical courage had spent the trip suffering from alternate bouts of terror and nausea.
Never again, Ursula had promised herself then. If I ever get back to Ireland I’ll never take another sea voyage!
Her letter to Henry continued:
Congratulations on your achievement, it must be wonderful to realise your dream! Imagine buying a newspaper of your own, even if it is in some place called Muleshoe, Texas. (Are you sure you have that name right?)
The Finola lingerie Ella sent to me has already arrived. The silk is very beautiful, I never had anything so fine. I am writing a proper thank-you letter to her, and another to Tilly for the warm knitted vests she sent to me. The vests are less fashionable but much more practical.
My small box of presents for all of you will go out tomorrow. My roommate has promised to post them from London. Felicity is not nearly as awful as I expected. She is a hearty girl whom everyone calls Fliss. She describes herself as “jolly hockey-sticks,” which is English slang. Although Madame does not approve I am collecting colorful foreign phrases. They are like salt in the stew.
Fliss says her family is solidly Tory (her father is a former M.P., a “backbencher”) but she calls herself a liberal. She says liberalism is the wave of the future and is quite happy to discuss politics with me. Although we have very different points of view, I am learning to debate without arguing. Madame is teaching me to be “deeplomatic.”
Fliss has bought me Shakespeare’s tragedies for Christmas and I am giving her a collection of his sonnets. We did not compare notes ahead of time, so it came as something of a surprise to discover we both chose Shakespeare. We actually
have rather a lot in common. In addition to an interest in politics, we gorge on chocolate when we can get it, are terrified of Madame, and love horses. The Rowe-Howells have stables at their country place in Sussex and Fliss invited me for the holidays, but I declined. The truth is, while I enjoy the Bard of Avon I am not prepared to enjoy England.
I shall spend Christmas at Surval. The school stays open through the holidays because the parents of some of the girls park them here like bicycles while they socialise. There are more ways to abandon a child than to leave it in the street in Dublin.
Over the holidays I plan to make a few shillings by tutoring the younger girls in basic French. Just since September I have become almost fluent, and I am even better at German.
“Our girl’s finding her feet,” Henry told Ella when he finished reading the letter. “It isn’t easy, but she’s always been a tough little scrap.”
His wife put down her sewing. Her loving eyes scanned his face. “You miss her very much, don’t you?”
“I do of course. I’ve known her almost as long as Ned has. If I’d been in Bachelor’s Walk that day I might have been the one who found her,” he said wistfully. Thrusting his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat, he rocked on the balls of his feet, thinking. “Cap’n…how would you feel about taking Ursula to America with us instead of Tilly?”
Ella drew a deep breath. “If that would make you happy, let’s.”
Henry’s heart leaped—then slowed. He, who knew every nuance of her voice, detected a reluctance of which she was not consciously aware. When Ella fell in love with him she had accepted his Irish nationalism as part of the package. She had even agreed to raise their children in the Catholic faith. But adding to their family a militant rebel who had carried messages—and probably guns—for the IRA would not be easy for her. Ella might even see the younger woman as a potential rival.
Out of love for him, Henry’s wife already had stretched her emotional resources to the limit. To ask for more would be cruel. “Forget I even suggested it,” he said briskly. “I don’t know where I get such notions; the girl’s much better off where she is. We’re going to live in a small Texas town in the middle of nowhere. You and I shall have each other, but what would there be for her? Besides, if she was living in America how could she make things up with Ned?”
“Do you think they will reconcile?”
“They will of course. He loves her dearly and she idolizes him. Ursula’s a bit of a hero-worshipper and Ned Halloran’s always been her hero. He may have lost the run of himself, but I know how strong he is. One of these days he’ll pull himself together and want his daughter back. If I’ve taken her away to America he never will forgive me.”
“What are the chances of his forgiving you anyway?”
“Two, I suppose,” Henry replied sadly. “Slim and none.”
15 June 1926
Dear Uncle Henry,
How exotic Texas sounds! Imagine all of you living in a timber house—except people there call it a “frame” house, you told me—with the prairie wind blowing clouds of red dust while poor Tilly struggles to hang the washing on the line. You were wise to take Tilly with you. I do not know how Ella could manage without her. From what you tell me, it takes both women to cope with Bella.
Have you seen any Red Indians? The postcard you sent me of the Comanche chieftain called Quanah Parker is very handsome. His mother was a white woman, it says on the back. I wonder if any of us is all one thing or the other. I have started thinking about that lately. You have some Welsh blood, and I, well, who knows what I am. Irish, that’s all.
Europe in the wake of the Great War is a bit like Ireland but on a larger scale. New borders and old grudges. My German teacher explained that her country has suffered ruinous inflation ever since the war as a result of the huge reparations forced upon it by the Versailles Treaty. Unemployment is extremely high. Many people blame their problems on the Jews and the Communists. It is hoped the League of Nations will admit Germany in September, which at least will give the Germans a forum for expressing their grievances.
Did you know that the English novelist H. G. Wells was the first to suggest a league of nations? I have begun reading his books. The early ones, such as The Time Machine, are wildly imaginative, but he makes me think and I like that. I am going to purchase his Outline of History as soon as I can.
Speaking of money—since Ella so kindly made the offer, I should like to stay here for one more year. Do not misunderstand, I still get homesick. Last night I dreamed I was in the barn with Norah Daly, helping her with the milking. (Do you remember how she always put her finger into the froth of the milk afterwards, and sketched the sign of the cross on the cow’s side?) After next year I am determined to come home. Ireland is waiting for me like a promise.
Henry Mooney took off his hat as he entered the house and sailed it across the room to land atop the hat rack; the polished brass hat rack brought all the way from Dublin. “How do you like my one parlor trick?” he asked his wife as she came with open arms to meet him.
Ella tilted her head back and looked up at him, laughing. “You ask me that every night, sweetheart.”
He gave her a squeeze, being careful not to press too hard against her swelling belly. “Is the little one comfortable in there?”
“You ask that too. And he is.”
“Are you so certain it’s a boy?”
“Don’t you want a boy?”
Henry chuckled. “Not necessarily. I love being surrounded by women. Speaking of women, I had a letter from Ursula today. Says she’d like to stay at Surval for one more year.”
“I thought she might.” Ella’s dimples danced. “In another year she will be quite a polished young woman. What then for her?”
“Mmm…I’ve been thinking about that, Cap’n. I’ll arrange for her to talk to some people I know in Dublin, people who can give her employment that will stimulate her mind. If we leave it up to her, who knows where that reckless streak might take her?”
“Still spreading your wings over her, aren’t you?”
He chuckled. “Trying to.”
“Do you think there’s any danger of war breaking out in Ireland again? You keep up with the situation over there; what’s happening?”
Taking his silver pocket watch from his waistcoat, Henry wound it thoughtfully. “Remember that the Sinn Féin*
Party fractured after the Anglo-Irish Treaty,” he told his wife. “Sinn Féin flatly refused to serve in the new Dáil with treatyites. That split Irish nationalism right down the middle. Militant Republicans on one side and parliamentarians on the other.
“The Republicans continue to deny the legality of partition and demand an independent thirty-two-county Irish nation. Personally, though, I think the Irish Republican Army’s a spent force. The war’s over, so who are they going to fight?
“W.T. Cosgrave and his pro-Treaty Cumann na nGaedhealf Party are running the country now, and they aren’t warriors. Businessmen and large landowners, most of them. That’s not to say they aren’t decent men, they are. I know Cosgrave; I even interviewed him a couple of times.”
“Is he as handsome as Michael Collins was?”
Henry smiled at his wife’s romantic imagination. “He has close-set eyes and an egg-shaped head, Cap’n. Not very dashing, I’m afraid, but looks aren’t everything or you wouldn’t have married me.” Before she could protest he went on, “Fortunately Cosgrave also has a steely determination, and he’s going to need it.
“For one thing, he has very few resources to work with. Britain gave the Protestants in the north the lion’s share of industrial development. The rest of Ireland was seen as nothing more than England’s larder and deliberately kept ignorant of industrialization. This means the Free State is economically very vulnerable in today’s world. I don’t envy Cosgrave the job of trying to turn things around, but thanks to his temperament he’ll probably make a better fist of it than Dev would.”
“Eamon de Valera will ne
ver accept the Free State,” Ella said.
“Don’t be so sure. Dev’s a Republican but he’s also a born politician. From what remains of the IRA he’s drawn the nucleus of a new political party to challenge Cumann na nGaedheal. By contrast with Cosgrave’s businessmen and large landowners, Dev’s party comprises ordinary working men and women; the plain people of Ireland who won our freedom in the first place. Dev intends to fight for the Republic by using the governmental structures of the Free State he despises. He’s calling his new party Fianna Fáil.*
“He may have shot himself in the foot, though. You’ll recall he refused to accept the oath of allegiance to the British crown. That was his main objection to the Treaty; he thought the oath was a more crucial issue than partition. But because the Free State has dominion status all members of the Dáil have to sign the oath. Dev’s made it policy for his new party to refuse. He won’t modify his principles for anyone. So even if they’re elected, members of Fianna Fáil must abstain from taking seats in the Irish Parliament.
“Although Cosgrave fought in the Rising most of his cabinet are parliamentary nationalists. They won’t try to take the north back at gunpoint. They’ll reason with the British, or bargain with them, or just accept what’s been done even if they don’t like it. So my answer to your question is…there’ll be no more war in Ireland. In my considered opinion.”
He chuckled. “Sorry I’m so long-winded, Cap’n. You should know better than to ask a journalist a question. Let’s just say I’m cautiously hopeful. War does seem to be the human condition, though. Thank God Europe at least is pacified!”
20 November 1926
IMPERIAL CONFERENCE IN LONDON ANNOUNCES ESTABLISHMENT OF BRITISH COMMONWEALTH OF NATIONS
Commonwealth to include the dominions of Australia, Canada, Irish Free State, Newfoundland, New Zealand, and South Africa. Nonindependent status of India remains unchanged.
1949 Page 5
