Rebel Sisters (10 page)

‘Grace, you are talented at line drawing and caricatures. You display great flair for design and illustration rather than ordinary portraiture.'

Alice, Grace and Minnie all enjoyed landscape painting, Mary Lane was a very fine portrait painter, while Theodora's illustration work was full of tiny details, pleats, bows and beads, for she loved to draw and sketch fashion. Grace, on the other hand, hated including these fussy things and wanted just to sweep her black ink pen over the page and capture in almost one go the person she was drawing or a scene from a play or book that she had recently seen or read.

Grace attended lectures and talks held by the Women's Social Political Union. She and her friends were all supporters of the suffragettes and their campaign to get the vote for women.

As her last term at the Slade approached, Grace began to wish that she could stay in London for ever, finding some kind of work that would enable her to be independent and continue to live in the city.

‘Maybe we could share a flat together,' suggested Minnie and Theodora.

She responded to various advertisements looking for sketch artists for journals and newspapers, but had no success, and the galleries she visited all seemed to have enough artists without taking on the work of an unknown young Irish woman.

‘Grace, don't keep thinking about it,' advised Mary, who was returning to her home at Vernon Mount in Cork. ‘Enjoy being here and these last few weeks at the Slade.'

Also, Charlie Taylor, a handsome young law student, had invited her out. She'd been to the college's law ball with him, as well as to the theatre and a dinner party at his best friend's home in Belgravia. They took long walks around the nearby park together and spent hours talking in tea-rooms and cafés near the college. Grace looked forward to seeing Charlie, hearing his voice and spending time with him.

The exams came and she sat up late studying, trying to memorize the various Italian, French and German art schools, the masters and artists and their work. She was also frantically trying to finish her own project and three pieces for her final exhibition at the end of June.

‘I have to study for my exams,' she told Charlie, who found it hard to accept that she was serious and had to study, paint and draw instead of joining him for lunch or tea.

‘Does it really matter that much?' he argued.

‘Yes!' she snapped, fiercely annoyed with him. ‘It does matter. Art is what I do, surely you understand that?'

She could tell from his wounded expression that he didn't, but was one of those men who believed that a woman should not aspire to work or have a career, or for that matter to vote.

Disappointed in each other, the very brief relationship petered out and Grace realized that she could never get involved with such a man, no matter how handsome and charming he appeared.

The suffragettes were planning a large rally in Hyde Park in June, and she and her friends were determined to take part. Grace and Minnie were despatched to MacCulloch & Wallis, the large haberdashery store in Poland Street, to buy yards and yards of ribbon in the suffragette colours – purple, white and green – for everyone. If only Grace had Mother's sewing machine, she would have been able to run up a stylish dress in the colours, but, instead, she would have to make do with trimming an outfit.

‘Thirty yards of purple ribbon?' queried the pretty young shop attendant. She could not believe her luck as she unrolled and measured yard after yard of ribbons for the female students of the Slade.

‘It's for the rally next Sunday,' Grace confided. ‘We are all supporters of Mrs Pankhurst.'

‘My sister and I are going too, as are most of the girls here,' she said quietly, hoping the shop manager would not overhear her.

‘Perhaps we will see you in the park.' Minnie grinned as they gathered up their purchases.

As they set off on Sunday to join the rally, they all wore dresses, skirts and blouses in the suffragette colours. They made the multicoloured ribbons into sashes, belts and bows as well as tying them gaily around their hats.

The sun shone as Grace and her friends marched from Kensington to Hyde Park behind tall banners, shouting loudly ‘Votes for Women!' and arrived to form an enormous crowd of hundreds of thousands of supporters of the movement. Even little girls and children sported the coloured ribbons in their plaits, braids and hairbands. Grace had never seen anything like it – so many women united in one cause.

They gave a roaring cheer as Emmeline Pankhurst, flanked by her daughters Christabel and Sylvia, blinking in the sunshine, stood proudly to address them. They could see she was clearly overwhelmed by the massive reception from all the women, young and old, who were present.

‘Even I am shocked by this huge crowd before me,' she said, gazing at the crowd of about three hundred thousand women. ‘Thank you so much for making the effort to attend today. Deeds, not words, have always been our motto and your presence is absolute proof of the support for our campaign for votes for women.'

Listening to Mrs Pankhurst's conviction and belief in the fight for women's rights, and looking around her at the sea of female faces of all ages, full of hope and desperate for change, Grace knew that it was only a matter of time until all women were considered equal to men and given the vote, and that it was the duty of young women like her to continue to campaign for it.

Ernest came to the final-year show at the Slade, declaring in his brotherly fashion that her work was astounding. She had designed a selection of theatre posters, programmes and illustrations, along with ink portraits, including some of her friends and some of the college's esteemed artists. There was also a fine display of her life drawing and a range of prints based on Greek design.

Grace had written to Mother and Father requesting permission to stay on in London for a few months, but the reply had been very clear. Grace was too young and was expected back home in Dublin immediately.

‘My parents want me back on the Isle of Wight,' complained Minnie.

‘Grace and I planned to go to Paris,' confided Alice, ‘but Father is being difficult about it.'

They may have graduated from the Slade but, disappointingly, it made no difference to what any of them could do; they were single young women with no source of income or support other than their families. As she packed up her clothes and art materials for the journey home to Ireland, Grace wondered if she would ever return to work and exhibit in London.

DUBLIN SEEMED DESPERATELY
drab and dreary to Grace when she returned to the almost claustrophobic world of Temple Villas, living under Mother's watchful eyes. It was such a contrast to the freedom she'd enjoyed in Gower Street.

Mother and Father constantly enquired about her situation.

‘Why can't they leave me alone?' she complained to her twin brother Cecil, who had also recently returned to Dublin following travels in Canada. ‘They know I am trying my best to find work.'

‘At least you don't have to go and work in Father's law firm like I have to,' he consoled her.

Poor Cecil! Despite his protestations that he did not have any intention of doing law, he was working as an apprentice in Father's office in Dawson Street, a job he certainly did not enjoy.

‘You are silly, Grace – you should have stayed in London!' pronounced Ada, forthright as ever. ‘Believe me, there is scarcely any commissioned work here if you are a woman.' She confided to Grace that she was getting desperate and was considering making her career elsewhere, perhaps in America.

Grace, however, was determined to prove herself.

So, armed with a sample portfolio of her work, she set off to visit every theatre, magazine and newspaper office in the city to try to persuade them about her artistic ability and availability. Her younger sister, Sidney, who was making quite a name for herself as a journalist, had given her introductions to some of her editors, including
Sinn Fein
's Arthur Griffith.

Grace got used to sitting across cluttered desks in cramped, decrepit offices trying to appear professional and businesslike as managers or editors studied and scrutinized her work. She only needed one or two to commission her and it would be the stepping stone to being considered a proper artist for print, which is what she wanted.

A few considered her work very suited to their requirements, which was pleasing, but they made it clear that unfortunately there would be no possibility of paying a fee if they used it.

‘Am I supposed to starve and be grateful?' she complained to Sidney as she tried not to give in to a growing sense of despair.

‘I often don't get paid for my writing either,' her sister admitted, ‘but it all helps to build my name and reputation. That is part of the reason why I chose to use “John Brennan” as my pen-name. It's strange, but people find it easier to accept a man writing articles for the newspapers and magazines than a young woman, and they believe a young man deserves to be paid. Besides, I far prefer the name to my own,' she added with a grin.

Grace found it strange that even at home her sister now preferred them all to call her John instead of Sidney.

Her youngest sister had changed and grown up so much while Grace had been away in London. She was only eighteen, but she had a mind of her own, together with an unusual confidence and sense of importance about her work. She had joined a group set up by Maud Gonne and Helena Malony, which pledged to fight against English influence in Ireland and to champion the cause of Irish independence and the revival of the Irish language and customs.

‘It's called Inghinidhe na hEireann,' John explained.

‘You are talking in Irish!' Grace laughed.

‘I'm taking classes in the language.'

‘Inghi …' Grace had no idea how even to attempt to say it.

‘It means “Daughters of Ireland”, but some people call us “the Ninnies”,' John revealed. ‘Grace, you should come to some of the meetings. They hold lectures and ceilis and debates.'

John was deeply involved with this organization, but for the moment Grace felt she needed to concentrate her efforts on finding work.

Father quietly suggested she set up a meeting with his old friend John Butler Yeats's son, Willie. John Yeats had moved to live in America and Father still missed his old friend and their discussions.

‘The Abbey Theatre is popular and they seem always to be putting on new Irish plays. Most are not really to our taste, but I hear they do well.'

From her visits to the Abbey, Grace knew that they prided themselves on reflecting Irish culture and tradition on the stage. William Butler Yeats had said nothing when she first met him in the theatre. He had always seemed rather lofty and distant, but now she went to see him and he enquired politely about her parents' wellbeing as she handed him her portfolio. She knew he had a very keen, critical eye and her spirits sank as he sat across from her in his office, silently studying her work. She was relieved when, looking at her over his dark-rimmed glasses, he told her he considered her design and artwork striking and that it suited the demands of the theatre.

The Abbey already had a few artists they used, he explained, but he promised to send her the script of a play they planned to stage next year and asked her to submit a sample of her design ideas to them for consideration.

‘Thank you,' she smiled, gathering up her portfolio. He had made no commitment to using her work, but Grace felt at least he was giving her the opportunity to demonstrate her ideas. The Abbey Theatre, with its strong nationalist focus, was staging work that differed very much from Dublin's other theatres with their popular London-type productions. She would relish the challenge of working for it.

Two small newspapers also gave her work, asking her to do some caricature sketches for them, which they used. Mother proudly showed her drawings to everyone.

‘The Daughters of Ireland' have invited me to attend a committee meeting about the new women's journal we hope to publish,' John told her one day. ‘Perhaps they will need some artists and illustrators!'

Grace did not want to get her hopes up, but she waited anxiously for her sister to return home. She was delighted when John told her that their new journal,
Bean na hEireann
, would be published monthly and would reflect both nationalist and feminist sentiment with a broad appeal and a range of articles from various contributors – and it would most definitely need some illustrative artwork.

‘Countess Constance Markievicz turned up to the meeting in a ball gown and a tiara, straight from an event in Dublin Castle, to offer her services,' John laughed. ‘Can you imagine her with all the committee ladies in their brown and grey tweeds and woollens? She certainly caused a bit of a stir. She offered not only to write or provide some artwork, but also to sell her diamond brooch to raise funds for the journal. Honestly, she is an extraordinary woman, unconventional to say the least. We took the tram home together and I have to say I do like her.'

John encouraged Grace to send samples of her work to the new journal's editor, Nora Dryhurst, a well-respected Irish journalist and suffragette who lived in London but had offered at the meeting to help with editing and setting up
Bean na hEireann
while she was in Dublin. John had become friendly with the older journalist, who was very encouraging about her writing career.

‘I met her daughter Sylvia in London,' said Grace. ‘She is a friend of Ernest's.'

‘Nora Dryhurst is a fine journalist,' enthused John. ‘When I told her that Ernest is coming home on holidays she said we must have afternoon tea together. So I have invited her to come here for tea next week.'

Mother was barely able to disguise her surprise at the petite, intelligent, pretty, middle-aged suffragette sitting in their drawing room and telling tales of political intrigue and scandals in London.