Easter Sunday, 23rd April 1916, was to be the most important day of her life and the beginning of a new era. Only weeks earlier, she had converted to Catholicism for this moment. This was the occasion Grace Gifford was due to marry her long term boyfriend, Joseph Mary Plunkett, a member of the IRB Military Council who had planned the Easter Rising and a signatory to the proclamation of the Irish Republic.
That Sunday was to prove very different from the one Grace envisaged. As a member of the Military Council, Plunkett, along with the other six members was locked in negotiations at Liberty Hall, to try and undo the damage of the countermand order initiated by Eoin MacNeill. This Sunday was the day the Easter Rising was due to commence. The wedding? It was cancelled as other matters predominated, in the hope of rescheduling. In the aftermath of the Rising, Plunkett was to reschedule and marry his sweetheart in the circumstances that could not have been otherwise predicted, notably in Kilmainham Gaol, hours before his execution. In 1985 Frank and Sean O’Meara encapsulated the atmosphere of the wedding in a ballad called, “Grace.” It’s memorable and poignant words resonate and imbue a sense of empathy between a couple whose love for each other was as great as their love for Ireland. Many artists have recorded this song, but perhaps this is my favourite version
On May 3rd 1916, early into the evening, Grace was taken from her home and brought to Kilmainham Gaol. Already grieving for her sister Muriel, whose husband, Thomas MacDonagh was executed for his part in the Easter Rising earlier that day, Grace’s thoughts were also preoccupied with the fate of her fiancé, Joseph. Since the widespread arrests in the wake of the Rising and the confusion that permeated throughout Dublin, Kilmainham Gaol housed the main leaders and rebels who had fought against the might of the British Empire during that week. Joseph Plunkett was one of those leaders.
From his sickbed, Plunkett had played an active part in the planning and execution of the Rising. On the morning of the Rising, 24th April 1916, Michael Collins helped bring a heavily bandaged Plunkett, recovering from an operation for TB, with maps, books and a revolver to Liberty Hall. At Liberty Hall, there was a buzz of excitement as Volunteers and Irish Citizens Army personnel were in the later stages of preparation for the forthcoming Rising. Dressed for the occasion and brandishing a sabre at the head of the column, destined for the GPO, Plunkett “looked dying.” During Easter week, he spent most of his time in the GPO ill on a mattress, recovering from the recent operation. On occasions, filled with short bursts of energy, Plunkett was key in directing operations in the GPO and inspiring those present. Joe Good, a Volunteer in the GPO, talked of Plunkett’s “eloquent comforting words … As he’d risen from his deathbed to lead us.” Winifred Carney, James Connolly’s secretary, had never seen Plunkett before and questioned his “unsoldierly” appearance. James Connolly’s son, Roddy had similar sentiments, “I asked my father who this man was. I thought he was rather out of place lying down on a mattress in the middle of a revolution. I didn’t think that was much of a leader. And I remember, my Father said, “that’s Joe Plunkett, and he has more courage in his little finger than all the other leaders combined.”
After the GPO was evacuated and the Provisional Government took up residence in Moore Street, Plunkett felt compelled to write his last letter to Grace, asking Winifred Carney to deliver the note along with a bangle and ring he was wearing, “this is just a little note to say that I love you and to tell you that I did everything for us to meet and get married but it was impossible.” This was delivered to Grace when Carney was released from prison.
In the aftermath of the surrender, Joseph Plunkett was singled out by one British officer for particular insult. Plunkett could hardly walk. A soldier threatened to bayonet him. Others were mistreated. Captain Lea-Wilson stripped Tom Clarke naked and took Sean MacDermott’s walking stick off him. As the now prisoners arrived in Richmond Barracks, Plunkett collapsed. At his court martial, Plunkett pleaded not guilty to the charges, as three witnesses, Major Philip Holmes, Sergeant John Bruton and Lieutenant Hodgkin, testified against him. There was no defence of any kind offered by Plunkett. Later that day the verdict “Guilty”, and the sentence, “Death”, were given to Joseph Plunkett. Transferred to Kilmainham Gaol and put into a cell in the East Wing, Plunkett awaited his imminent execution.
Aware of the fate of her husband to be and in a desolate state, Grace was pulled from her bed by the Priest, Father Sherwin. From there she went to Mr Stoker’s jewellery shop to buy a wedding ring. Grace chose the most expensive ring in the shop, paid for if, left quickly and proceeded to Kilmainham Gaol around 6pm. Once inside, Grace presented her case for marriage to the prison authorities, with them reluctantly agreeing to this “unusual request.” Anxious and nervous, Grace waited in anticipation for the moment she so longed for – to be one with Joseph Plunkett.
Just before midnight, Joseph Plunkett was led from his cell and brought to the prison chapel. Awaiting at the alter of the chapel was was Fr Eugene McCarthy of St James’ Church with Grace Gifford in her wedding gown. Led down the stairs by armed guard, Plunkett set his eyes on Grace, the first time since Easter Sunday. Under the candle light, on the one candle held by a soldier, Plunkett was re-united with Grace. As Plunkett stood at the alter with his bride to be, his handcuffs were taken off him. With no family of friends in attendance, the silence of the small prison chapel, was broken with Father McCarthy performing the marriage ceremony as two British soldiers, John Smith and John Carberry acted as witnesses. No private conversation was permitted between Grace and Joseph. Wedding vows and a commitment of love for one another echoed through the the prison chapel. Grace, nervously passed the ring to Joseph as he slid the gold band onto her finger with both echoing the words, “to love each other until death does us part.” As the newly wed couple stared into each other eyes and moved to sign the marriage register, euphoria was replaced by the clang of handcuffs reuniting with the prisoner as Joseph was led back to his cell. Alone. Emotional. Grief stricken. Heartbroken. Grace, a marble like statue, stood at the alter speechless, fearful and emotionless.
The now Mrs Plunkett, was led from the Gaol by Father McCarthy. As it was after 6pm, Dublin was a dangerous place. General Maxwell had declared martial law and the city was under strict curfew. The Priest managed to find Grace a place to stay, at the home of Mr Bryne, the bell ringer of St James’, where she was given a meal and a place to rest.
At 2am, a heavy knock came to the door. A policeman presented a message from Major Lennon, the Kilmainham Governor, stating she could return to the Gaol to visit her husband. Grace, entered her husbands cell as soldiers with bayonets watched on. Grace, in the hostile atmosphere found difficulty conversing. She had so much to say, yet so little time. Within the last ten minutes of their acquaintance, Plunkett spoke of the bravery of his comrades, “he was not frightened, not the slights bit, not at all” recalled Grace. “Your ten minutes are up” declared the Sergeant who watched the time during the short visit. Grace was taken out of the cell and out of the Gaol. Grace later stated, “we who had never had enough time to say what we wanted to each other found that in the last ten minutes we couldn’t talk at all.” Both Grace and Joseph were never to see each other again.
On the morning of 4th May 1916, hours after his marriage, Joseph Plunkett was visited by Father Sebastian, as he waited to be called to the stone breakers yard of the Gaol, the place of his execution. “Father” he said, “I am very happy. I am dying for the glory of God and the honour of Ireland.” Plunkett, now summoned to face the Sherwood Foresters, took off his glasses and handed them to the Priest. His hands were tied behind his back, his name was spoken, a signal given as a bandage was placed over his eyes “absolutely calm, cool and self possessed, no fine talk, no heroics.” Plunkett stood and faced the twelve man firing squad as they waited. Kenneth O’Morchoe, the officer in charge of the firing squad, saluted Plunkett. The youngest signatory to the Irish Proclamation, aged 28, fell after a deafening valley. Lying in his cell in Kilmainham Gaol for his involvement in the Rising, Joseph’s Father, Count George Plunkett lay awake and heard the shots of the firing squad, not knowing his son Joseph had been executed.
Grace, the newly wed wife of Joseph Plunkett, only hours earlier, was now a widow. In 1917, Grace was elected to the executive of the rejuvenated Sinn Fein. Grace was subsequently to become an anti-Treaty advocate and served time in Kilmainham Gaol herself. In a life of struggle and poverty, Grace Plunkett died suddenly and alone, on 13th December 1955 in Dublin and later buried in Glasnevin Cemetery.
This is fantastic Jude well done. Intriguing stuff. Goose bumps reading this.
Wish I’d written it, Mitchel…