Michael Collins and the Women Who Spied For Ireland

by Meda Ryan

  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.)

  ‘London,’ said French, ‘is the best place, after all, to meet people. For a considerable time I was on the heels of De Wet in South Africa and only caught up with him in London here, at dinner.’20

  According to Oliver St John Gogarty:

  Dinner at the Laverys brought you into the company of persons of incalculable importance. A house which was welcomed as an unofficial meeting-place for rebel and ruler was of inestimable use and service to both sides – Ireland and England. Without it what is the picture? Mr Collins makes his statement to the powers that be, and is answered with all the stiffness which such statements must have for the followers who put each side into power by utterances ... At 5, Cromwell Place men would meet as human beings beyond the scent of herded wolves, and exchange views and reveal difficulties. Arthur Griffith was grateful for this accommodation. The Laverys did more to bring about a settlement than all the weary official and overworked weeks at Hans Place.21

  Collins was conscious of being misinterpreted, and also of his image. Emmet Dalton approved of his decision not to drink alcohol during any of the lunches or dinners. ‘Mick was shrewd – always a step ahead. The Laverys were well connected with the people who mattered ... Mick, as director of intelligence, knew he could get inside information, and he did, through Hazel.’22

  At lunch one day Lord Birkenhead was a guest. During the meal Hazel’s small Peke dog was under the table and began pawing at Lord Birkenhead. Hazel realised this, and called the little dog. ‘Oh, I am sorry,’ said Lord Birkenhead. ‘I though you were making advances.’

  Fuming, Collins jumped up. ‘D’ye mean to insult her?’

  Hazel, wishing to calm the situation, said, ‘Lord Birkenhead was only joking.’

  ‘I don’t understand such jokes,’ said an irate Mick.23

  Back at the conference table each day brought its own problems. Lloyd George soon saw the cracks among the Irish delegation. Griffith had an intense hatred for Childers, whom he called ‘that damned Englishman’. But the closeness between the cousins Barton and Childers meant that Collins and Griffith had to exclude Barton from their most private deliberations during some of the discussions. It created a difficulty for Collins as Barton had been Collins’ comrade and he had thought highly of him during the last four years of war.

  There was stalemate. Any decision on the issue of the crown must be referred to Dublin, according to de Valera’s instructions, and he had already said this could mean war. The British delegation on the other hand had made it clear that without recognition of the crown there could be no settlement.

  Collins was utterly dismayed. ‘Dublin is the real problem,’ he wrote to O’Kane. ‘They know what we are doing, but I don’t know exactly the state of their activities. No turning back now.’24He told O’Kane of his concern for Griffith’s health, and the strain he was under.

  As head of the delegation, Griffith was led into a trap. In return for promises of a Boundary Commission, he gave Lloyd George his ‘personal assurances’ on the Crown, unknown to the others, in writing – a useful weapon for Lloyd George which he would use to his own advantage later on.

  On 22 November the Irish delegation handed their draft proposal to the British team, ‘upon the assumption that the essential unity of Ireland is maintained’.

  It added to Mick’s problems that the ‘Dublinites’ (as he called them) had decided to play their own game. Brugha, minister of defence, was still sanctioning the collection of arms for the IRA. Early in November he had sent Michael Hogan and Ned Lynch to London to buy arms with instructions to steer clear of Collins and Sam Maguire. One evening Ned Lynch got a message that Collins wished to see him. Collins confronted him – on whose orders was he purchasing arms? ‘If this Treaty isn’t signed you’ll have more guns than men to use them. Things are being made difficult for us over here – don’t make them more so,’ said ‘The Big Fellow’, who then shook hands and walked away.25

  Nevertheless, within a few days there was a daring raid on Windsor Barracks, with ‘inside’ help. Lynch and a comrade were captured but the others got away with the arms. The IRA admitted their involvement.

  This hit the negotiations hard. If the IRA were involved Michael Collins had to be behind it, according to Field-Marshal Sir Henry Wilson. He was convinced also that Collins was behind the other raids in Ireland even though he was continuing to engage in negotiations. Now Collins was in a no-win situation. Cathal Brugha had succeeded. Before he sent over the men he knew Collins would have to take the rap. ‘There was little Collins could do for his hands were securely tied, the mesh of intrigue roped tightly about him.’26

  Notes

  1 Michael to Kitty, n. d. c. end October 1921.

  2 Collins to John O’Kane, 23/10/1921.

  3 Collins to John O’Kane, 17/10/1921.

  4 Mark Sturgis’ Diary.

  5 Michael to Kitty, 8/1/1921.

  6 Ernie O’Malley, The Singing Flame, p. 34.

  7 Leon Ó Broin, p. 96.

  8 Michael to Kitty, 9/11/1921.

  9 ames Douglas to Collins, Collins Papers, NLI.

  10 Michael to Kitty, 15/11/1921.

  11 Collins to O’Kane, 14/11/1921.

  12 Michael to Kitty, 15/11/1921.

  13 Ibid., 16/11/1921.

  14 Sir John Lavery, The Life of a Painter, pp. 189, 190, 208.

  15 Ibid., pp. 205–207.

  16 Ibid., p. 213.

  17 Michael to Kitty, 16/11/1921.

  18 Sir John Lavery, op cit., pp. 213, 214, 215.

  19 Countess of Fingall, op. cit., p. 402.

  20 Sir John Lavery, op. cit., p. 214.

  21 Oliver St John Gogarty, As I Was Going Down Sackville Street, p. 241.

  22 Emmet Dalton to author, 20/4/1974.

  23 Countess of Fingall, op. cit., p. 403.

  24 Collins to O’Kane, 15/11/1921.

  25 Margery Forester, op. cit., p. 242.

  26 Rex Taylor, op cit., p. 135.

  Letters – In Great Haste

  ‘We have been at it in a most serious fashion all today,’ Mick wrote to Kitty on 24 November, and shortly after he ominously said that the ‘position is very serious and I may be returning with anything but satisfactory news’. He agonised. He had been thrown into this pit and he had to find his way out.

  He knew that concessions on both sides would be required,
and that the gap was wide on the main questions of allegiance to the crown and Ulster. The delegation had to put aside the question of Ulster in order to deal first with the knotted allegiance problem.

  Back in Dublin on the weekend of 25 November, he attended a cabinet meeting which began at three o’clock and was still in progress at seven. Brugha and Stack were openly hostile to Collins and tried to use Mulcahy to attack him.1It was late before this meeting closed, and Mick needed further discussion with Mulcahy and others, but in between he snatched a moment to drop a line to Kitty; he expressed the hope that he could ‘get away tomorrow night to Granard, but things are most awfully uncertain, it’s quite on the cards that I may have to return to London ... in great haste, Mícheál.’2Next day Mick attended a long fiery meeting of the IRB Supreme Council. He knew he would encounter problems with Brugha and Stack no matter what ‘deal’ they brought back, and he realised that what was being offered would not please de Valera either – these men distrusted the IRB, and distrusted himself, he knew.

  The day was crowded with activity. He got to Granard, but had to return in Joe Hyland’s waiting car to make the night boat back to England. He tried to fit in a normal life between his numerous activities but his time for courtship had become less and less. He wanted Kitty to understand him: ‘I’m greatly afraid you see the worst side of me,’ he wrote to her on 28 November.3

  He found consolation in her letters, which he told her he read over and over again silently late into the night. On 30 November, alone, sitting up in bed after a hard day he reread all her letters, he told her, then tried to write to her but had to give up. ‘Positively I was too worn out to write legibly.’ But he was up again early for Mass, lit a candle for Kitty, and began to write to her before breakfast.

  He expressed his concern for the stress his precarious ‘appointments must make’ on her time. ‘But how can I help it?’ he pleaded. ‘I didn’t have a minute more than you know of. If you can realise this, what does it matter if people do make suggestions like you say they did?’ The innuendos that he referred to were that he was seeing another woman, Lady Hazel Lavery. ‘I don’t find it very agreeable sometimes, I assure you, and I don’t find the forced absence very pleasant,’ he wrote. He was ‘in a very troubled state of mind’ that morning. ‘Troubled about many things,’ he said, not least her ‘lack of understanding.’4

  Many difficulties arose as the debates progressed. Because of Griffith’s poor health, Collins, the unofficial leader, shouldered much responsibility. In a letter to his friend John O’Kane he wrote: ‘He [Griffith] and I recognise that if such a thing were official [Collins as unofficial leader] it would provide bullets for the unmentionables’. The topic of the Dublinites was discussed between Griffith and himself ‘for the thousandth time’.5

  Collins found time to renew acquaintance with some old friends from his early London days but there was a tinge of sadness in his visits to his long-time friend and fellow west Cork man, Tom Hales in Pentonville. Despite being under surveillance, he did succeed, speaking some Irish, in conveying to Hales the difficulties of getting a Republic from the British. Hales was very special to him; it was a friendship that went very far back. Hales had suffered greatly; he was one of the few held in jail after the Truce and Collins, try as he might, failed to get him released.

  Mick walked the London streets alone. Apart from his letters to Kitty there is no record of his thoughts, of his emotions, or of his turmoil as he tramped to and from his Cadogan Garden lodgings, while somewhere in the background Ned Broy kept a watchful eye.

  On 1 December, Griffith and Collins got the British leaders to agree that Ireland should have the same status as Canada in ‘law, practice and constitutional’ usage, which was more in line with Childers’ view.

  Mick drafted a quick line to Kitty, told her not to fuss about his cold which she observed he had when last she met him. He thought he might be going to Dublin for the weekend, but because of the pressure didn’t think he’d have a chance to meet her.6

  He received her letter on 2 December. She said, ‘You know by this time how anxious I am to secure your love really well, and how I long for this more than anything else, so much so that it must bore you sometimes. With me nothing seems to matter except that love between the two of us.’ She asked him to forgive her if she periodically expresses doubt. ‘You are the first who made me believe in love, and that’s why I wouldn’t like to be ever disappointed in you.’ She admitted that it was probably ‘silly’ of her to express doubts and desires; she realised, she said, that he was much more ‘sensible’.7Next day he got another letter from Kitty acknowledging his. ‘I really probably misunderstood you ... I am happy to drift and drift as long as I know you love me and we will be one day together. I fancy sometimes – as girls do – a nest, you and I, two comfy chairs, a fire, and two books (now I’m not too ambitious) and no worries. You feeling perfectly free, as if not married, and I likewise ... All I wish now is that it pleases you, gives you some sunshine, and helps to make the day easy for you. That will always be my ambition.’8

  Mick felt that the life they both longed for was being smothered by duty to ‘the cause’. On 3 December at 7 pm Mick was ‘just waiting’ while some of the secretaries were agreeing to a report at 10 Downing Street, so he wrote a note to Kitty. ‘I have had a most awful day – conferring all the time and I am preparing to clear off now for Euston where I hope to post this, and to see you again.’ However, he didn’t get away from Downing Street in time for the post.

  Later Childers and he had a rough crossing. The boat in which they were travelling ran into another boat, three men were killed and they had ‘to put back’ to shore.

  After this turbulent sleepless night, cold and hungry from the boat trip, he attended a cabinet meeting in the Mansion House on Saturday morning where each of the plenipotentiaries gave his view of the draft terms of the treaty. Brugha created what Childers termed ‘an unpleasant scene’, and said that the British delegation ‘selected their men’ by having ‘sub-conferences’.9

  Griffith, furious, demanded a withdrawal of the accusation. Brugha refused. Collins held his temper, and in a measured tone said: ‘If you are not satisfied with us, get another five to go over’.10

  Barton came to the defence and Brugha eventually withdrew his remark. After further accusations and discussions on allegiance to the crown at a meeting which lasted over seven hours, the division within the delegation and within the cabinet was greater than ever.

  As Tom Cullen drove Mick back to the boat he complained bitterly of the way he was being treated. ‘I’ve been there all day and I can’t get them to say yes or no, whether we should sign or not.’11Mick was back in the boat again that night. ‘We didn’t have time to have tea before we left Dublin,’ he wrote to Kitty.12They had left the meeting with no clear indication as to what exactly their cabinet colleagues recommended. Barton and Duffy were convinced that the cabinet wanted them to have another attempt at ‘External Association’ while Collins and Griffith were equally convinced that such was not the decision of the cabinet.13

  When Collins visited his friends Sir John and Lady Hazel Lavery at 5 Cromwell Place, he was extremely angry and felt he was being pressurised. This was one place where he could freely vent his anger, and it would be helpful if this got back to Lloyd George. Sir John told him that ‘he who loses his temper in argument is lost,’ but he failed to dissuade him. Eventually, ‘after hours of persuasion, Hazel prevailed’.14

  Still very annoyed because of the confusion in Dublin, he agreed to talk to Lloyd George, only because Griffith appealed to him and because the others had failed. Despite disillusionment he would make a last effort; he wrote to O’Kane that ‘the only names worth considering after this will be the names of those who have kept away from London ... whichever way it means trouble at home.’15

  On the morning of 5 December, Collins was still reluctant to meet Lloyd George, and though normally a stickler for punctuality arrived later than th
e appointed time. He found Lloyd George in a friendly mood, prepared to make concessions provided there was retention of the opening clause of the draft treaty keeping the Free State within the Commonwealth.16

  In the afternoon Collins, Griffith and Barton returned to Downing Street to discuss the four points (the north-east, defence, trade, the oath). Collins’ morning meeting bore fruit; Lloyd George conceded fiscal autonomy. Collins sought this because of its importance to Ireland’s borrowing power. The complicated question of the north-east took up much of the afternoon while they awaited a reply on the unity of Ireland from Craig. Collins felt that ‘Ireland is Ireland. Borderland is trouble and always will be’.17

  At the sub-conference Collins suggested that Tyrone, Fermanagh, parts of Derry, Armagh and Down would be saved by the Boundary Commission provided Craig responded positively. And so the arguments dragged on. Collins stated: ‘That every document we [the Irish] ever sent them [the British] had stated that any proposal for the association of Ireland with the British Commonwealth of Nations was conditional upon the unity of Ireland. That, unless Craig accepted inclusion under the all-Ireland Parliament, the unity of Ireland was not assured ... ’18

  Lloyd George, seated at the other side of the table, jumped. He accused the Irish delegation of trying to break on the Ulster question. He brandished an envelope and reminded Griffith that a document contained in it had been shown him by Tom Jones [secretary to the British delegation] on 13 November and he [Griffith] had agreed to its contents.