During his time here, my brother visited Dublin, and went to Kilmainham Gaol; he reported that it was a terrific tour, and gave him a good basis for understanding the Irish struggle for independence. So with our last guests in tow, we decided to follow his good example and bone up.
Our day started with a trip in on Luas, Dublin's shiny tram system, dropping us right at a stop for the hop-on, hop-off bus tour, a double-decker bus that ferries tourists around and is frankly, loads of fun, with talkative drivers behind the wheel--sometimes they even sing! We alighted at the Gaol, and joined the short queue.
Our OPW card got us in for free (yes, I would say it was a worthwhile investment!), and we pumped some food into the kidlets and had a look around the museum while we waited for our tour. We were once again impressed by the incredibly knowledgable and articulate tour guide, which seems to be the norm in a country known for its storytelling ability. And this place had many stories to tell; indeed, it was stories that led to this independent republic's being.
The tour starts in the prison chapel, where we hear of Joseph Plunkett marrying his childhood sweetheart, Grace Gifford, only hours before he was executed for his role in the Easter uprising of 1916. I had taken the bus tour before, and had seen the bullet holes still visible on the Post Office on O'Connell street, so that part was clear. It was also clear that the ruling British were not amused by the uprising, and had court-marshalled all the ringleaders and sentenced them to death.
But this was a touching tale, one of love and sorrow, and the British made a fatal error in dragging out the dozen or so executions over the course of a week. Word got out: of the ill-fated lovers, of the execution of a man who was too badly injured to stand before his firing squad and had to be propped up on a chair. And outrage ensued. The war for independence had begun, and the lable "Free State" was not enough: this time the people would settle for no less than a free and independent republic.
It was horrifying to imagine being incrcerated there (did I mention Danny and I got separated from the group?), and we were happy to see the sunshine, however brief, outside. We reboarded our bus tour, and as we pulled away from the kerb, the driver started singing a familiar tune, one I had not paid much mind to before.
As we gather in the chapel here, in old Kilmainham jail,
I think about the last few weeks, oh, will they say we failed,
From our school days they have told us we must yearn for liberty,
Yet all I want in this dark place is to have you here with me.
Oh, Grace just hold me in your arms,and let this moment linger,
They'll take me out at dawn and I will die,
With all my love I place this wedding ring upon your finger,
There wont be time to share our love so we must say goodbye.
