by Meda Ryan
As Mick was about to travel to Cork to do his duty for Ireland, ‘my duty’ she wrote, would be ‘to go and have a good time. And yet we have a grand feeling that we can trust each other, knowing that if either of us offends we will pay the penalty sooner or later in remorse ... By Saturday evening when you come back I’ll be tired of everybody, and then will have you to amuse me’.12
Meanwhile, Mick was asking her, ‘When are you coming up to town again? It is years and years since I saw you although indeed you are before my mind every bit as much as you could wish ... Am looking forward to seeing you’.13
Collins was enthusiastically cheered when he addressed a crowd on the Treaty issue in Cork City early in March. A Mrs Agnellis in the crowd that night observed that: ‘He was at one and the same time the youthful dashing leader we had learned to love and admire; and yet a figure on which strain, worry, and overwork had taken its toll’.
Momentarily he paused. Mrs Agnellis, who stood quite close, called to him, ‘God bless you, Michael Collins!’
He looked down from the platform and said clearly, ‘I need it!’14
Later that night as he and Seán MacEoin made their way to the house of his sister, Mary Collins-Powell, he narrowly missed being shot by a lone gunman.
As Mick’s schedule became more crowded he found it ‘difficult to write a real letter.’ On 24 March he sent her ‘a little note ... I am looking forward to seeing you in fifteen minutes. So goodbye until then. All my love. Mícheál’.
On 28 March in a note to Kitty he wrote, ‘I’m sorry I’m looking old! Am I really? And not so fresh? If you saw the way I’ve had to write this letter – about a thousand interruptions.’ He was to go to Bangor for a meeting with Craig and intended calling on her on the way back but he got a wire to go to London instead. ‘Saw Harry today – he’ll be with you I think on Thursday.’ He wasn’t worried about Harry because he knew that Kitty had now given her love to him.15
Discussions were difficult. ‘These two days have been the worse [sic] days I have ever spent. The representatives from the North are very very difficult – they are in a way more difficult than the others, but even so one always hopes.’ And next day: ‘Have had the devil’s own day between the North and the English. Things are pretty serious, but there is always hope, so that’s that. How are you? I wish you were here – am going to the Laverys to dinner this evening, so that means that we’ll be back [home] early.’16
Collins travelled a great deal to drum up support for the Treaty. He was in London on 30 March in an effort to solve the tensions in Northern Ireland which had been caused by rioting, burning of Catholic homes and conflicts with the B-Specials. In a three-pronged approach, delegates from the Provisional, Northern and British governments signed an agreement of cooperation and peace between the now separate parts of Ireland.
At the conference he met Lord Londonderry for the first time. Londonderry afterwards wrote: ‘I can say at once that I spent three of the most delightful hours that I ever spent in my life and I formed a conclusion of the character of Michael Collins which was quite different from the one which I would have formed if I had only known him as I had read of him before this particular interview.’17
In a letter on 31 March, Mick apologised for inflicting his problems on Kitty and told her he was ‘sanguine about the future ... We came to an agreement ... with Craig yesterday,’ regarding the release of prisoners. ‘But the news from Ireland is very bad, and the “powers that be” here are getting very alarmed and there may be a bust-up at any moment’ – a reference to Rory O’Connor and anti-Treaty activities.18
On and off Kitty’s health was not good and by the end of March she was told by the doctor that she would have to take it easy for two months. Mick insisted that she should carry out the doctor’s wishes and have a quiet holiday somewhere. On his return journey from Castlebar in early April he detoured to Granard, but ‘was not pleased’ with her appearance so he insisted that a quiet holiday was essential for her. He said he had assembled a parcel of books and would send them direct to wherever she chose.
Harry Boland was still friendly with Kitty and he would often visit Granard for a day at the hunt. While Michael was writing that ‘things are rapidly becoming as bad as they can be, and the country has before it what may be the worst period yet,’ Kitty was replying about ‘going to Longford races’.19
In mid-April, when Kitty chastised Michael for not writing to her often, he appealed to her for understanding.
If you could only see the circumstances under which most of them [the letters] are written, you wouldn’t be so mighty quick to disparage them. At any rate I won’t mind you this time ... We did nothing at the Conference yesterday – except talk, talk all the time – it’s simply awful. And the country! But they never think of the country at all – they only think of finding favour for their own theories, they only think of getting their own particular little scheme accepted.
In a postscript he noted, ‘The Rebel Army has taken over the Four Courts. God help them!’20
Rory O’Connor, on behalf of the anti-Treatyite Executive Army Council which had split from GHQ, with Liam Mellows and other anti-Treaty leaders had seized the Four Courts in Dublin as headquarters. They fortified the building on the night of the 13–14 April. Liam Lynch, the chief of staff, did not share O’Connor’s views; like Liam Deasy, commander of the First Southern Division, he was anxious to give civil administration a further chance. Michael Collins was reluctant to push O’Connor, Mellows and his followers – all former friends and colleagues – from the Four Courts.
‘It’s simply awful,’ he wrote to Kitty, as he appealed for understanding for not visiting her. ‘They [the Republican Executive] never think of the country at all – they only think of finding favour for their own theories ... this Rebel Army.’21
On 16 April, Collins narrowly missed being shot in Dublin. This attack received widespread publicity. Kitty worried when she read of it and sent him a telegram, but he was quick to reassure her, ‘You knew I’d be all right, didn’t you?’ Ever the optimist, ‘God is better to us than we deserve ... Honestly I did not know that I was going to Naas ... It was immediately after our return the shooting took place. I think they must have meant to capture me only. They were great optimists. God help them, but they are carrying things a bit too far’.22
Since the beginning of April, seizures of cars, lorries, and attacks on pro-Treaty troops had become a regular occurrence. There were attempts at negotiation but these kept breaking down. While Churchill regarded Rory O’Connor and his men as mutineers and wanted either to ‘starve them out’ or use militant action against them, Collins saw them as Irishmen and former colleagues.23He would not be pushed into reacting hastily. Moreover, he still viewed them as important allies needed to support fellow nationalists in the north.
When it became clear to the IRA that it was unlikely that any worthwhile gains would result from the Craig-Collins agreement, they stepped up plans for a northern offensive. Already Volunteer units had positioned themselves in the north, where they were in receipt of arms derived from two shipments.
Despite the division in the army and in political circles, Michael Collins agreed with Liam Lynch to the dispatch by secret means to the north of a large consignment of these arms to help northern Catholics, many of whom were the victims of sectarian killings. Cosgrave, Blythe and cabinet members were aware of the transaction.24
Though Collins was playing with fire and risking the British reoccupation of the entire country, it was a gamble he was willing to take. To him this ambivalence was preferable to outright civil war.25Because retaliations grew more severe on Catholics after IRA raids and also because Craig was using the raids as an excuse for sectarian violence, it was decided to call off the northern offensive.
Collins continued to be reluctant to act against former comrades in the Four Courts, although it was becoming obvious that despite his best efforts the deteriorating situation was leading towards civil wa
r. As meetings continued, he clung to the hope of halting all-out confrontation and, contrary to the wishes of Griffith and other cabinet members, decided to enter an agreement with de Valera, which became known as The Pact. This provided for a coalition panel in a national government where the anti-Treaty party would be represented in the cabinet in the ratio of four to five.
Collins argued, ‘It was a last effort on our part to avoid strife, to prevent the use of force by Irishmen against Irishmen’.26
The Pact gave Collins a brief respite. There would be some evening time to visit old friends. While on the run he had often used Dr Oliver St John Gogarty’s house in Ely Place. He would renew his friendship with this medical doctor who had on many an occasion ‘operated on wounded volunteers’.27
He would also have more time for Kitty, who was ill. Her health had not been strong since the previous summer.
Since the beginning of May she had been spending some time resting in the Grand Hotel, Greystones; here Mick would call for a brief chat late in the evenings, whenever time allowed. They would talk and talk, both agreed on the value of the ‘long chats’.
The respite was short-lived. Soon Michael Collins was again summoned to London.
Kitty’s demands and the lack of understanding she sometimes displayed in her letters put even more pressure on Mick. Though she was well aware how difficult it was for him, she was, in her impatient way, hoping he could put a speedy end to the conflict and meetings. ‘I had a list of your meetings in my mind from the night I last left Dublin,’ she wrote. ‘Oh no, I’d never invite you to Granard on the eve of a big meeting so far away as Tralee where you must go the day before ... what fools Irishmen are to give up everything for their country.’28
He had to write, ‘Sorry I can’t possibly leave town owing to the situation here’. But, ‘I am very anxious to see you. It seems about a million years since we met and that’s a long time ...’ Two days later he would write again: ‘There will be no chance that I can go down tomorrow night as I have to leave on the morning train on Saturday for Tralee and Killarney. Then I won’t be back until Monday evening. I’ve had every Sunday at it now since the Dublin meeting, and it’s becoming wearying, but maybe we’ll have a rest soon’.29
By the end of April the name of Michael Collins could be found on morning papers not alone in Ireland but in England and America. In order to secure support for the Treaty and avoid civil war, it became necessary for him to increase his number of appearances at public meetings. This caused Kitty great anxiety; because of his long hours of standing on cold, windswept platforms he constantly suffered from colds. She repeatedly pressed him to get more sleep – she had noticed that on visits to Granard he would sometimes fall asleep, depriving her of his company. ‘I saw the Sunday Independent ... about Saturday’s meeting [in Cork],’ she wrote on 25 April. ‘So I was “wondering” how you would do on Sunday or would yourself and Seán be shot!’ By return he reassured her in a note sent via Gearóid O’Sullivan that he was well but lonely for her.
Her own health was far from good and some of her letters and his refer to this. However, by May she would be in Greystones taking that long-needed health rest. She would also be closer to her lover, who would visit her in the late evenings. Both of them longed for a normal life.
Partly from a habit of caution and partly because of lack of time, Mick rarely dealt with political issues in any depth when writing to Kitty but they discussed politics and problems when they met. He knew that she and her brother Larry still received visits from Harry Boland and he did not want to place her in a difficult situation. Kitty made reference to Harry in one of her letters: ‘ ... if he is not to be trusted’, she wrote, ‘I wouldn’t take much of that particular “thing” with him. Enough said! ... I want to talk to you again [about it].’30
Kitty never failed to mention any of Harry’s visits to Mick; it came as no surprise when in a letter of 26 April, she noted that ‘Dev is still at it. Last time H [Harry] was here he told me (in a burst of confidence) of Dev’s dislike for you, because you were too anxious for power, that Dev liked Griffith, but Harry dislikes Griffith, and (of course) likes you, etc.’ There was more but she would spare it for when next they would meet.31
‘I knew that about de V. well. I have known it all along. That’s what he says of everyone who opposes him. He has done it in America similarly. It’s just typical of him,’ Mick wrote in response to Kitty. ‘I wish to God I was rid of it all and was just with you and free from their scurrilities and their accusations and counter-accusations.’32
In an interview with Hayden Talbot, Mick pointed out that while he himself could only take the facts as he found them, de Valera preached idealism: ‘He knows ... that the Republican ideal is as dear to us who support the Treaty as it is to himself ... He knows that we who oppose him will work to make Ireland strong enough to declare her Independence ...33
On 27 April Mick was ‘just preparing to go to a Dáil meeting, and that’s a prospect that doesn’t appeal to me in the least. God help us all!’ he wrote to Kitty, and he told her he had been ‘thinking of her all morning ... Are you not coming to town? Please do if you can at all as I want so badly to see you’.
Notes
1 Michael to Kitty (London), 4/2/1922.
2 Ibid., 5/2/1922.
3 Cutting from The Liverpool Express, sent with letter to Kitty by Fr Malachy, a cousin in Liverpool, 9/2/1922.
4 Michael to Kitty from London, 15/2/1922 (He enquires if she has been reading this book).
5 Michael to Kitty, 27/2/1922.
6 Kitty to Michael, 28/2/1922.
7 Michael to Kitty, 29/2/1992.
8 Kitty to Michael, 28/2/1922.
9 Ibid., 14/2/1922.
10 Michael to Kitty, 21/2/1922.
11 Ibid., 10/3/1922.
12 Ibid., 18/3/1922.
13 Ibid., 14/3/1922.
14 Rex Taylor, op. cit., p. 184.
15 Michael to Kitty, 28/3/1922 and 29/3/1922.
16 Ibid., 30/3/1922.
17 Montgomery Hyde, The Londonderrys, p. 150.
18 Michael to Kitty, 31/3/1922.
19 Michael to Kitty, 10/4/1922 and Kitty to Michael, 10/4/ 1922.
20 Michael to Kitty, 14/4/1922.
21 Ibid.
22 Ibid., 18/4/1922.
23 Cope to Churchill, 15/4/1922, telegram, 5.49 pm, CO 906/20.
24 Ernest Blythe to author, 20/3/1974; see Meda Ryan, The Real Chief: the Story of Liam Lynch, pp. 107–110.
25 Ibid.
26 Michael Collins, The Path to Freedom, p. 17.
27 Ulick O’Connor, Oliver St John Gogarty, p. 188.
28 Kitty to Michael, 25/4/1922.
29 Michael to Kitty, 15/4/1922 and 18/4/1922.
30 Kitty to Michael, 16/2/1922.
31 Ibid., 26/4/1922.
32 Michael to Kitty, 27/4/1922.
33 Michael Collins to Hayden Talbot, q. Hayden Talbot, op. cit., p. 173.
‘English Lady’ under Suspicion
The month of May was extremely difficult for Mick, and though he eventually succeeded in convincing people on both sides of the Treaty that the Pact was necessary, he had yet to convince the London government, which had already denounced it. In a letter to Churchill he explained his decision, but Churchill, being committed to the Treaty, was not convinced and summoned him to London. Armed with the draft constitution, Griffith, Duggan, Kevin O’Higgins and Hugh Kennedy went over on 25 May, and Mick was to travel next day.
But first he would attend to spiritual matters. The Reverend Frank Gibney was giving a Mission in a church in Greystones. Mick ‘was very busy in Dublin, worked and worried almost beyond endurance. He got to Greystones very late and very tired. It was the eve of his departure to London re the Pact. He got up next morning as early as 5.30 a.m., came to the church and made a glorious confession.’
After confession he said to Fr Gibney, ‘Father, say the Mass for Ireland!’ Fr Gibney told his congregation that day: ‘You saw one
of Ireland’s hidden saints making no small sacrifice for the Master this morning’. About ‘an hour or so afterwards he crossed for London’.1
With time to think on the SS Cambria he felt ‘more lonely’ than ever for Kitty, as he anticipated the daunting task that lay ahead.
When Michael Collins arrived at Downing Street on the morning of 27 May, Lloyd George said the meeting would have to be postponed because Lord Birkenhead had a temperature. ‘I never heard it called that before,’ shouted Collins with laughter, and dashed off to see Birkenhead.
At the door, Birkenhead’s butler said his lordship was unwell. Collins brushed past him into the hall and called out. Birkenhead, on hearing Collins’ voice, came to the landing in his dressing-gown with bottle in hand and called, ‘Come along up, Michael!’2On this occasion the two men had a frank discussion.
In a long letter to Kitty from London on 28 May he thanked her for her ‘wire’ and poured his weary heart out:
Things are serious – far far more serious than any one at home thinks. In fact it is not too much to say that they are as serious as they were at the worst stage of the negotiations last year. And even while we are here there comes the news of two British soldiers being killed in Dublin and two ex-policemen in Boyle. Coming at such a time it is impossible to get away from the conclusion that they are done deliberately to make things more difficult for us in our task here. It is not very creditable to those who are responsible for the actions themselves but it is simply disastrous for the name of Ireland.3