Michael Collins and the Women Who Spied For Ireland (11 page)

Don't be putting up too severe tests. Don't attempt to walk before we have learned to crawl. That is a fatal mistake ... Do you know how your letter strikes me ... that you are trying to get out of it. I want it to work out and I promise to do my part of it. If it's not possible, then God help us, but let us have a fair chance.
27

If he was in jail and couldn't write, he told her, he wouldn't forget her, so why should he forget her now – not because he was far away! ‘If you only knew the difficulty I have in finding time, you'd know how unfair you were to talk of long letters. (Since I commenced this, I have had to deal with several business letters, a few callers and a few phone calls.)' Though he felt she was angry with him, yet:

I would not change a word in your letter for I don't like gramophone effects.
I like people to say what they themselves think and mean
... If it [the relationship] can't last through misfortune and trouble and difficulty and unpleasantness and age then it's no use. In riches and beauty and pleasure it is so easy to be quite all right. That is no test though.
28

The next day he gave her a flavour of his busy schedule:

Have been working all the morning and now I'm rushing for the Conference. Am keeping them late
as usual
, they say, and you say I'm neglectful and forgetful if I don't write long letters and so I'm getting into trouble everywhere and that's always my fate.
29

By this time Kitty appeared to have decided which man she wanted. Mick – Mícheál as he now liked to call himself – asked Kitty some pointed questions, and she said she wasn't displeased:

I know how you feel about the Harry business ... It is wise what you say about H. etc. I haven't written yet [to Harry]. I don't know exactly what to say. I wish you were here, it would be so much easier to discuss it ... I told H. I didn't love him, and he was prepared to risk it with the idea that I might grow to love him, and I think I told you all the other little things before.

Kitty in this letter said she was being frank with Mick that it was her fault and he shouldn't blame himself in ‘the slightest'. ‘The agreement that we be absolutely frank is good and should keep all misunderstanding away.'
30

In a further letter Kitty again mentions Harry. She wants the air cleared and says that the relationship between two people has to be right, love should be built on ‘a splendid foundation'. ‘I may be wrong,' she told Mick, ‘but I think H. is capable of deeper affection (for me) than most men, but he also knows that I don't love him ... This is a very personal letter, and I hope you will forgive me and understand ... I always wanted to make you feel happy, otherwise I would have kept away from you, knowing the danger.'
31

We have no access to any further letters between Harry and Kitty, nor is there further mention of Harry in any of the letters between Mick and Kitty at this juncture, but she tells Mick that her feelings for him were much stronger than what she felt for Harry. ‘Yes, what you say is right, to be straight and understanding. I feel I always want to be straight with you.'

We do not know how Kitty dealt with Harry but it is obvious that she had decided the triangle was ended. By this stage Kitty is full of apologies to Mick; she says he misread her last letter:

You are everything to me, and surely you know it. Then why should I want to hurt you? ... I am sorry. Please forget it and remember that I am always thinking of you. You are never out of my heart ... It worries me and it is always worrying that you have so much to do. Is there no remedy?
32

With his personal life as with his military and political life he insisted on clarity: ‘Please,' he wrote to Kitty, ‘always say to me what you think, not what I'd like you to think. That's the only way to get at a proper understanding, and if I don't like what you say, then it's my look-out'.
33

Now that she has decided in his favour she asks him to come for the weekend: ‘Ah, yes try, try ... Write and say we are as great as ever ... Good-bye with my love and a big kiss (if you'll have it). Yours ever, Kit'.
34

In a later note: ‘I'd love to have you here, but we must be really good, no bedroom scene etc. etc. etc. Tuigeann tu? You'll come to me before I go to London perhaps?'
35

She was going to a dance with a Cavan boy, only seventeen, she tells him, so he won't be jealous. She teases him: ‘I'm wearing my old long frock, black and very low! Of course you would be shocked!'
36

The following day she sends him an account of the dance; she danced all night, ‘never sat it out for a second, never felt inclined,' and had only two hours in bed and couldn't sleep. Her ‘little black evening dress held up on the shoulders by two little black straps and willpower, no sleeves, long draped skirt with a small slit in front. I felt I never looked so well, and was wishing that you were here to tell me if you liked me ... You like black in evening dresses. It suits me, I think ... . Last night I was yours absolutely, that is if you were perfectly satisfied.' She was determined that this was going to work: ‘I want you to know that I love you'.
37

Mick did get home that weekend and Kitty got to Dublin for ‘a great reunion'. He had to get some of the lads to see her home safely as he had to rush for the mailboat back to London on Sunday night. On the journey he dropped her a brief note: ‘I wish you were with me now. It's so lonely, and it's so sad being far away. But then you are with me, aren't you? Why wasn't I so much nicer to you. Good bye Kit, my Kit'.
38

The next morning he wrote her a quick note before going to Mass, but felt compelled to write to her again later. He had got her letter about the dance. ‘You must have been “stunning” looking ... Sounded somewhat on the naked side in reality.' He was concerned about her health, as she had complained to him that she hadn't been feeling well. He suggested a number of doctors and also that she have her sight checked. ‘You must take real care of yourself.'
39

On 24 October, Mick got Mrs Fionán Lynch, who was looking after the female staff on the delegation, to wire Kitty to come to London next day. When she didn't respond he got Mary Duggan to wire twice. He had no time during the day as he was immersed in the negotiations. Kitty agreed and next day travelled to London. There she met her sister Helen and both met Mick the next day.

Because of the demands on his time Mick depended on others to make Kitty's stay enjoyable. One day he asked Kathleen Napoli MacKenna, one of the secretaries, to accompany the Kiernan sisters on a shopping expedition. They were each to select a gift for which he would pay. Kitty selected a smart woollen dress. Kathleen McKenna said, ‘Mick, who was very much in love with Kitty, was a proud man as he left Cadogan Gardens with a sister on each arm'.
40

Mick could give time to Kitty only in the evenings but even these snatches of time Mick said were ‘wonderful'. He went to great trouble to see that Gearóid O'Sullivan escorted Kitty to Holyhead and back home safely. ‘I have just said that rosary for you,' he wrote afterwards. ‘Do you remember our words about my being sorry that I hadn't been nice to you? Well, I must say it again ... I pray you not to be too hard on me for you know how difficult my task is and, as I said before, I visit my nastiness on my best friends.'
41

Every morning Mick was up between 6 and 6.30. He went to Mass, at which he would light a candle for Kitty. Afterwards he would write a note to her at some stage while having his breakfast, reading letters, dealing with correspondence, having a political chat with his comrades, then spending a long day at intense conference meetings. In the evenings there was so much to discuss with the delegation that each moment was crammed with activity.

Ned Broy, who had been released from Arbour Hill and whom Mick had brought over as his private secretary, got uneasy about his early morning absence from the house, so he followed him unseen one morning. He discovered his daily Mass routine. Mick confided in Kitty that the early morning walk to Brompton Oratory was refreshing. Being alone with himself and his God gave him peace of mind for a short space.

Notes

As October drew to a close, major issues were on the conference table: the unity of Ireland, allegiance to the crown, common citizenship, naval defence, the national debt, war pension, compensation, and tariffs. Being under an obligation to maintain secrecy, Mick did not mention any of the difficulties or lengthy discussions in his letters to Kitty, only ‘– lovely day – bells ringing for Church and Chapel – sunshine on left, typewriters clacking on my right. I have kept the lovely secretaries in working, and it's a shame for me, but alas I have to do it'.
1

Not long after he arrived in London, he had sent James Douglas to America to ascertain whether the new state would be in a position to borrow without complete fiscal autonomy. Douglas informed him that Harry Boland was preparing American opinion to accept a resumption of hostilities. Even at this point, the mindset of the two men was diverging.

Arthur Griffith, who was not in great health, asked Mick to act as unofficial leader of the delegation and Mick, who had always admired Griffith, agreed to take on this extra burden.

From the outset the delegates were a disunited group, with tensions that had previously existed within the cabinet becoming magnified. Throughout the period of de Valera's absence in America Mick remained loyal to him, but when the Stack/Brugha axis dominated cabinet views on his visits to Dublin, Mick sensed that seeds of dissension were being sown. The unease between de Valera and himself would simmer from this on.

In the evenings he would get away from the group to drop around to his sister Hannie. She would have news of home or of Sister Celestine and he could chat to her about his plans for a life with Kitty.

He disliked seeing his photographs in newspapers, and Kitty's description of his ‘Charlie Chaplin moustache' did not help. He would have to get rid of that! Now he knew that if the war was renewed, his cover was blown: he could not hide. His four years in the secret life of espionage was poor preparation for the notoriety that was now visited on him.

After only a few weeks into the discussions Mick was acutely aware of the difficulties and the contrast between his own soldierly style and the machinations of politicians. He was confronted with ‘a real nest of singing birds'. He told John O'Kane on 23 October that ‘they chirrup mightily one to the other – and there's the falseness of it all, because not one trusts the other. Lloyd George's attitude I find to be particularly obnoxious,' he wrote. ‘He is all comradely – all craft and wiliness – all arm around shoulder – all the old friends act ... Not long ago he would joyfully have had me at the rope end. He thinks that the past is all washed out now – but that's to my face. What he thinks behind my back makes me sick at the thought of it.'
2

He soon realised that what they were being offered was ‘not freedom but the power to achieve freedom'. Unlike de Valera, symbols were not important to him; but both he and Griffith fought for the acceptance of de Valera's External Association plan. He began to observe that the best they could do was to get some temporary settlement. ‘You cannot create a republic overnight,' he wrote to John O'Kane.
3
(It is believed that ‘John O'Kane' is a pseudonym Collins used for a friend – his exact identity remains unknown.)

He made a quick trip home in early November, with some of the other delegates. Despite the secrecy that they tried to observe, the newspapers carried rumours of a crisis. Mark Sturgis noted in his diary: ‘Collins was seen this morning talking to Mulcahy in the hall of the Gresham and words portending war have been reported to me'.
4

He paid a short visit to Granard. ‘As usual when I got back to town,' he wrote to Kitty afterwards, ‘there were several people looking for me and a meeting.' He found the weekend did him ‘a great deal of good. The constant and changing fresh air was a great tonic'.
5

The meeting that Sunday evening was an electric one. Ernie O'Malley and some of the Tipperary battalion officers had been summoned to the Gresham Hotel for an enquiry into the seizure of rifles by the IRA. Collins was very concerned about this breach of the truce and angry when he met the men: ‘Some of you bloody fellows know about this, The rifles did not walk away. Negotiations in London will be held up over a few rifles. The British will say we have broken faith'. He shook his head, tossed his hair back from his forehead: ‘Come on, by Christ, and answer the question I ask.'

Afterwards Eoin O'Duffy apologised for him. ‘I'm sorry he lost his temper, but he is very worried and we cannot blame him.' O'Duffy told them that there were difficulties in the negotiations on the oath of allegiance issue. ‘If they end suddenly, it will be due to the seizure of the rifles,' as the British team would be ‘glad of an excuse'.
6

Lawless activities had begun to break the peace in many parts of Ireland. Men who had been on active service for so long over the previous few years now found it hard to settle into the dull routine of work.

But there were breaches also on the British side. Griffith drew attention to a British GHQ circular conveying to the police that the negotiations were due to break and they should be prepared for ruthless ‘hunting down of the rebels'. Sir Laming Worthington-Evans, secretary of state for war, denied the existence of such a document. Collins retorted: ‘
We know
. You can't issue these documents without my knowledge'. He said that the department had circulated a photograph of himself for police purposes, and also that a British detective watched him while he attended Mass.
7

On 8 November, the morning after the Dublin meeting, he arrived back in London after an extremely rough crossing; he slept on the train, ‘turned in for about 2 hours, up at 7.30, Mass at 8,' after which he lit a candle for Kitty. ‘Yes indeed,' he told her, ‘I'm thinking so very much of you now.'

Once back in London he plunged into work, and on Tuesday morning in his short note to Kitty he told her about ‘a clamour' which was for him ‘to attend to certain things'. However, he felt he had a little leeway as he ‘let everybody go off last night and stayed alone in the house. Worked steadily for three or four hours'.
8

On 15 November, James Douglas reported to him from New York that ‘there is plenty of money here to be lent to Ireland, if there is peace, but I am afraid the big men will not take the loan otherwise ... '
9
The stark reality for Collins was that should the negotiations break down and warfare resume, Ireland must plough on alone. On the same day the British team handed their draft proposals for a treaty to the Irish delegation.

Mick made a short boat trip to Dublin with the proposals but had to rush back again. ‘I was called back specially last night,' he wrote to Kitty on 15 November. ‘I had nearly wired you asking you to come up on the night train. Lucky I didn't for I'd have had to come [return] in any case and then you'd have found fault.' He felt torn between the demands she made on him and his other demands – ‘Mr G. [Griffith] is waiting for me and so will the other G. [L. George].'

A mention of Harry Boland in this letter suggests that Mick feels he is still in the picture as far as Kitty is concerned.

He was not a man for brooding, not even about the intrigue of the ‘Dublinites' as he termed them, and he advised Kitty not to brood unnecessarily on her personal problems. ‘If one broods over a thing one is very likely to give it an importance it doesn't deserve, and a doubt cultivated is apt to flourish exceedingly.'
10

Erskine Childers now proved to be a thorn in Collins' side: he was distrusted by the English as a hardliner on the delegation, and Collins suspected him of feeding extremist views back to de Valera. He wrote to O'Kane: ‘Who should one trust – even on my own side of the fence? Beyond Griffith, no one'.
11

The pressure was great, he told Kitty, ‘I'd write several times, if I could – but you won't realise what I have on hand'.
12
Next day, 16 November, he took a breather from a meeting of the delegation, ‘Up very late last night and in a ferment of haste and worry all the day ... I don't think I've been a single hour away from work.'
13
His life was to become even more difficult.

Hazel Lavery had met Michael Collins at parties during his early London days. She had taken a great interest in Irish affairs because of her Irish ancestry and her friendship with Moya Llewelyn Davies – regarding herself, according to her husband, as an ‘Irish girl'. In an attempt to promote the idea of Home Rule for Ireland, Sir John Lavery had painted portraits of Nationalist leader John Redmond and Unionist leader Edward Carson, and stipulated that the paintings should be hung together in a Dublin gallery. Hazel believed that an ‘Irish Collection' would help Irish reconciliation.

After the Rising, Sir John attended the trial of Roger Casement, accompanied by Hazel, and painted the scene. He offered the painting for sale on behalf of Kathleen Clarke's National Aid Society. The 1916 executions and contact with the relatives of the leaders had a profound effect on Hazel. Again, during the War of Independence she was horrified by newspaper reports about the atrocities committed by the Black and Tans. In October 1920 the Laverys came to Ireland on a painting trip. The War of Independence was at its height and Hazel decided that from then on she would make Irish freedom her principal interest. When she met Lloyd George at Philip Sassoon's house she pleaded for a change in British policy. Also in 1920 she converted to Catholicism – her husband and her daughter by her first marriage, Alice Trudeau, were already Catholics.
14

According to her husband she loved making friends:

She had the gift, and the power to use it delighted her always. She enjoyed all sorts and conditions of people, and she was almost childishly anxious to win each and everyone's esteem and affection. She was genuinely interested in all she met ... all humanity enthralled her – she was in love with the spectacle of life ... her life was life itself ... She had much Irish blood, but she was primarily an American aristocrat.

Since Mick first met Hazel he had been fascinated by her lively mind. ‘Her views on books were found so worthwhile even by Bernard Shaw that he used to send her batches of his
Intelligent Woman's Guide to Socialism
while he was writing it. But,' her husband wrote, ‘it was as a hostess that she excelled and found her true art. She had exquisite tact and discrimination, and mixed her friends with the ease and grace of the most successful diplomat.'

When the Treaty negotiations started Hazel suggested that her husband, who had spent some time previously painting in Connemara, should ‘do something' for Ireland. He agreed to make his studio a ‘neutral ground where both sides might meet' and so it became a venue for many fruitful discussions. It was really at this time that the handsome and enigmatic Michael Collins, who was at ease in all situations, won the admiration of Hazel. This admiration of him continued while he lived.
15

Because of Collins' fame Hazel was anxious that her husband should paint his portrait. He had already painted de Valera's portrait during his London negotiations in July. Now in November Hazel got in touch with Michael's sister, Hannie. This brought all the delegation in turn to Sir John Lavery's studio for sittings.

Collins walked into the studio one morning – ‘a tall young Hercules with a pasty face, sparkling eyes, and a fascinating smile'. Sir John ‘helped him off with a heavy overcoat to which he clung, excusing himself by saying casually, “There is a gun in the pocket.”'

Sir John observed he was ‘a patient sitter' who liked ‘to sit facing the door ... always on the alert'.
16
Mick himself found it ‘absolute torture,' he told Kitty, ‘I was expected to keep still, and this, as you know, is a thing I cannot do'.
17

Hazel got to know all the delegates, but had a particular liking for Mick Collins. She was anxious that the Irish group ‘should meet Englishmen of importance concerned with the Irish question, and this resulted in many dinner-parties and other functions'. Despite all her persuasive powers she could not induce Erskine Childers to come to her home, ‘not even for a meal,' her husband wrote.
18

Her husband welcomed the influential people she took it upon herself to entertain. Her home at Cromwell Place soon became ‘a centre of activity' for this political group. Mick Collins and Arthur Griffith ‘met intimately, men like Lord Birkenhead, Winston Churchill and Lord Londonderry, and were able to talk things over in a friendly way as they could have done nowhere else,' according to Elizabeth Countess of Fingall, Lady Lavery's cousin. She remembers ‘so many interesting lunches and dinners at that house, with usually some important significance behind them. Dinner was often in Sir John's studio upstairs, which made such a delightful background'. The countess innocently believed that ‘it might be said truly that the Irish Treaty was framed and almost signed at 5 Cromwell Place'.
19

One night at dinner Hazel, at the end of the table, had Michael Collins on one side and Field-Marshal Lord French, ex Irish viceroy, on the other. Lord French looked across and said, ‘This is the first time I have had the pleasure of meeting you, Mr Collins'.

‘It is not the first time I have seen your Lordship,' said Collins. ‘For a couple of months ago you were by yourself near the Lodge and the boys surrounded you; but I called them off.' (Collins, who had organised the ambush, called it off because the train arrived ahead of schedule.)