Anne Delaney recalls ‘The Battle of Coulson Avenue.’

 

There are battles which change history, sometimes at a terrible cost. But there are battles which are merry and which shed light on the lives and times of historical figures and make them human for us. The so-called Battle of Coulson Avenue was such an event.

It all started on a July evening in 1903 as recounted in an engaging witness statement given to the Bureau of Military History by the Irish nationalist, Maud Gonne.
On that fateful evening Maud was heading home to her small house in Coulson Avenue in Rathgar having spent an arduous day bill-posting in the city. She recorded that she was feeling weary and a little depressed that evening – perhaps because she was in the early stages of pregnancy and her husband, John McBride, was away from home. Their son Seán McBride, later a Minister for Foreign Affairs and a Nobel Peace Prize recipient, was born the following February.

As Maud turned into her small cul-de-sac that night, she spotted that a neighbour’s house was heavily bedecked with Union Jacks and red, white, and blue bunting: King Edward V11 was in town and her unionist neighbours were proclaiming their loyalty.

Maud was irritated. She entered her house, put the kettle on, then spied a broom in the corner and was immediately inspired to mark the King’s visit in her own way. This involved tearing a black petticoat in half, nailing it to the broomstick and flying it from the sitting room window.
Maud awoke the next morning to find that the police had removed the offending item of underwear. She promptly arranged for the second half of her petticoat to be suspended from the window, removing it later to a more inaccessible upstairs window.

It was a unionist part of Dublin and an outraged crowd soon gathered in front of her small house. Nothing daunted, Maud went indoors, to emerge with a scent squirt which looked like a revolver. She flourished the fake revolver at the startled crowd and then proceeded to dine in her front garden with her friend Mary Quinn, her ‘revolver’ on conspicuous display, to protect her makeshift flag.

Into this volatile mix came the tramp of marching men and a Police Sargeant, reinforced by 12 sturdy policemen, appeared around the corner and halted in front of her small garden gate, demanding that Maud immediately remove the offending lingerie.

Things were getting serious. Maud brandished her fake revolver again and announced to the Sargeant that as Catholics and Irishmen they should “occupy themselves hauling down those unseemly decorations opposite” given that the country should be in mourning because of the recent death of Pope Leo X111.

Continue reading in this week’s Ireland’s Own