Michael Collins and the Women Who Spied For Ireland (3 page)

In late August 1915 Michael was summoned to Dublin. He and some of his friends were given a series of instructions, told to be ready for the call and to lay the foundations in the IRB London circle. For the rest of that year he was full of expectation and apprehension. Susan Killeen had lost her job in a London post office because she had refused to take the oath of allegiance and with Dolly Brennan and Nancy O'Brien she had returned to Dublin. But Susan was on holidays in Clare during his Dublin visit. He wrote to her: ‘I don't remember ever being more disappointed in my life than I was on Saturday week.' He blamed himself for not responding promptly to her letters. ‘But really I do hate letter-writing,' he wrote, ‘and I'm not good at it and can't write down the things I want to say – however don't think that because I don't write I forget.' He was feeling ‘lonely and despondent' and wondered would he feel better if he was back in Dublin. He poured out his unease about life in London, especially with the threat of conscription. ‘I'll never be happy until I'm out of it and then mightn't either,' he wrote.
1

On the night of 15 January 1916, the night prior to the introduction of the Conscription Act, Michael bade a sad farewell to Hannie, who had been his counsellor, helper and friend for almost ten years. With fifteen of his friends he left London and sailed for Dublin.

Through his IRB contacts he got his first job in Dublin. As ‘financial adviser to Count Plunkett' he received £1 for a three-day week, plus lunch. During those early days of 1916, as he wrote to his sister Hannie, he was ‘not feeling at all happy, lonely you know'.
2
However the adjustment didn't take long; at least he had Susan's support and love. Mick had a romantic relationship with Susan during the 1914–1917 period. They shared common interests in politics, history, literature and poetry. He had danced with her at the céilís in London and would transcribe poems for her to learn ‘off'; she would recite them for him on their dates. They would discuss books, but above all they would discuss their shared interest in the Gaelic League and the future of Ireland.

Soon he got into the swing of Dublin life, meeting new friends like Rory O'Connor and some of his ‘old associates'. Politically there was ‘no reason for despondency,' he wrote to Hannie. ‘In fact there is every excuse for satisfaction.'
3
He followed target practice with the Volunteers at Larkfield Manor, Kimmage, and before long got a new job in the office of accountants, Craig, Gardner and Company in Dame Street.

In January 1916 the military council of the IRB had set Easter as the time to ‘declare the right of the people of Ireland to ownership of Ireland'.
4
Prior to Easter, Michael told Nancy O'Brien, Susan Killeen and Dolly Brennan – all three were staying together in Howth – that they should get out of town as things could get ‘too hot'. But they were adamant that they would be on standby in case their services were needed.

On Easter Sunday a series of mishaps threw into disarray the initial plans for the Rising but by eight o'clock on Easter Monday morning ‘definite orders from Thomas MacDonagh' to proceed with the arranged programme reached the Keating Branch of the Gaelic League, of which Collins was a member. Collins collected one of the organisers, Joseph Plunkett, from a private nursing home where he was recovering after an operation on his throat. He acted as his aide-de-camp throughout the Rising. During the week of the Rising, he had reason to admire the courage and steadfastness of Cumann na mBan members such as Winifred Carney, Elizabeth O'Farrell and Julia Grenan.

By Saturday surrender was inevitable. Pearse and some of the other leaders consulted together and in the hope of saving lives agreed to an unconditional surrender. With bodies strewn everywhere, with buildings blazing, it was an apocalyptic sight. Seán Hurley, Mick's friend and cousin who had come with him from London, was among the dead who lay at a barricade. The men who surrendered were herded into the green in front of the Rotunda Hospital, and surrounded by a ring of bayonets on the orders of Captain Lee Wilson. During the night many of them were mistreated and humiliated by Wilson. Michael was later penned off for deportation with a few hundred more of the insurgents. Over the following weeks sixteen of the leaders faced death before a firing squad. This in turn helped to sway public opinion in their favour.

On 1 May 1916, Michael found himself a guest of the British government in Stafford Detention Centre as Irish Prisoner 48F. He wrote his first prison letter on 16 May, to his sister Hannie, and told her of ‘the heart-scalding eternal brooding on all sorts of things, thoughts of friends dead & living – especially those recently dead'.
5
Because all his life Michael had been so active, it is small wonder that time dragged – ‘the horror of the way in which it refuses to pass,' he wrote to Hannie. He turned to books for solace and asked Hannie for ‘a few good (& long) novels and for Heath's
Practical French Grammar
'.
6

Towards the end of May he wrote a letter of thanks to his girlfriend Susan Killeen for her parcel containing ‘many delightful articles ... It was very kind and thoughtful of you'. In typical fashion he did not want to worry Susan. ‘Life here has not been so ghastly ... since we've been allowed reading matter and to write letters. Also we are allowed to smoke ...'

He asked Susan to get in touch with Cumann na mBan, to ask them to ‘look up Mrs Kirwan of Maynooth whose husband is here [in Stafford]. They have five or six children who are not I am afraid being attended to at all. Also Mrs Little ... more or less similarly placed ... '
7

Back in Ireland a big round-up was underway, with people being hauled in from all areas. To accommodate all the prisoners, internment camps were set up. Michael Collins was moved to Frongoch, north Wales, a disused distillery. Before the move he wrote to Susan and expressed his unease, especially about letter-writing restrictions. Things had certainly changed since he expressed his dislike of letter-writing the previous year. He anticipated that letters might be reduced to one a week. ‘Because,' he told her, ‘you have no idea of the number of letters I've been writing ... some not fit to send anybody.'
8
Established in Hut 7, Upper Internment Camp, he was soon elected ‘hut leader'. His high spirits, his cheerfulness, his daring, his leadership and organisational ability led to the name ‘Michael' being affectionately replaced by ‘Mick'. It was at this time in Frongoch that the nickname ‘The Big Fellow' was first used about Michael.
9

He wrote a great number of letters while he was in Frongoch and in turn received support from women such as Susan Killeen, his cousin Nancy and his sister Hannie. The
Independent,
which Dolly Brennan continued to send, kept him abreast of the news in Ireland. Most days he wrote letters. Several he sent ‘surreptitiously' so that he was losing track of his correspondence ‘which has gone all awry'. Parcels ‘from home' were one of the great joys of prison life.
10
They were often sent by the women who, under Kathleen Clarke, had formed the Irish Volunteers' Dependants' Fund – an organisation set up for the dependants of Volunteer prisoners arrested and Volunteers killed.

In early September an attempt was made to force some of the London-Irish to join the British army. About sixty men would have been liable for conscription, having been domiciled in Britain since the outbreak of the Great War. When they resisted they were mistreated and confined to bread and water in a effort to break their spirit. The ‘punishment' numbers increased, with the men ‘being deprived of their letters, newspapers, smoking materials'.
11
Collins became chief organiser of a system which successfully got messages, food, newspapers and other items from the non-punishment to the punishment camp.
12
The satisfaction he derived from ‘this game of smuggling and communication' made him ‘happy' as he enjoyed outsmarting the authorities, and ‘besides it gives some spice to the usual monotony,' he wrote to Seán Deasy.
13
Conspiracy and unorthodox methods gave him a foretaste of secrecy and manipulation, tactics which he was to exploit to the full in succeeding years.

During the winter there was plenty of mud and dirt in the valley after the heavy rains. Michael was awakened one night by ‘a rat between the blankets'. He told Susan of this ‘exciting experience' and his regret that he ‘didn't catch the blighter either'.
14

Frongoch was a splendid school. Mick would often conduct debates when the prisoners assembled at night. An inveterate scribbler, ‘Mick was forever jotting down points in that notebook,' Ned Barrett recalls. That notebook he also used for names and addresses – important contacts which he was to utilise to advantage in later years.
15

By December, detention of untried prisoners had become a problem for the establishment, so on Christmas Eve Mick Collins and some of his comrades were on the boat back to Dublin. Sadness lay ahead. When Mick reached Woodfield on Christmas night, he found the family and neighbours waking his maternal grandmother. Granny O'Brien had died during the previous night. His cousin recalled: ‘He had loved this grandmother. He had not been home for his mother's waking all those years ago. I could see he was sad. Granny and his mother had the same features.'
16

With himself having ‘some kind of reaction' and ‘poor old grandmother dead' and ‘that brother of mine and his wife both very unwell' he would be glad ‘to go back to Dublin' he wrote to ‘Siobhán
a Cushla
' (Susan, my pulse). He was looking forward to meeting her, to being with her, after all this time. Rather than by letter, personally, ‘I want to thank you for all the kindness which you have been bestowed on me while in jail,
a Cushla
.'
17

On his way back he made ‘a few useful contacts' when he went to a céilí run by Cumann na mBan in the City Hall, Cork. ‘He met the Duggan family and Nora M. O'Brien' who, according to his sister Mary, were extremely active later.
18

Back in Dublin he had Susan, the friends nurtured in Frongoch and his other friends with separatist views. There was work to be done.

Notes

Shortly after Michael Collins returned to Dublin he again began to attend the Keating Branch of the Gaelic League and discuss the future with the many released men. He became a member of the Supreme Council of the IRB. When Count Plunkett was put forward as the Sinn Féin candidate for North Roscommon, Collins canvassed during the January frost, snow and slush. The election was fought with the cooperation of members of Sinn Féin, the IRB, Irish Nation League, the Irish Volunteers and Cumann na mBan. The voters gave Count Plunkett a clear majority on 3 February 1917. Mick, in a happy mood, told Hannie he was ‘pleased to see so many old lads coming out in the snow and voting for Plunkett with the greatest enthusiasm.'
1

He now needed a source of revenue as well as a channel for his dynamic energy. An opportunity soon presented itself. Kathleen Clarke had founded the Irish Volunteers' Dependants' Fund (later amalgamated with the National Aid body) in the aftermath of the Rising to help to ease the financial burden visited on many families. She and other women had done Trojan work in this area by helping families in need. While the men were in jail these women kept the national movement alive: they were responsible for propaganda which helped to mould opinion to respect the martyrdom of the 1916 leaders; they had their prose and poetry published and they created a revolutionary fervour countrywide. Kathleen Clarke now needed a full-time secretary to coordinate and distribute funds collected through various activities, together with moneys received from Clan na Gael in America.

When Collins' name was put forward, Kathleen Clarke agreed: ‘He was just the man I had been hoping for. He was IRB and Irish Volunteer and also reminded me in many ways of Seán MacDermott. He also agreed with my idea that the fight for freedom must be continued, the Rising to count as the first blow'.
2
Collins started work on 19 February 1917, at a wage of £2/10s a week. He was now in a position to pay for his lodgings at 44 Mountjoy Street, take Susan out and sometimes have a night with ‘the boys'.

As a member of the Supreme Council of the IRB, Collins set about its reorganisation. He had also been elected to the Volunteer Provisional Executive, the body which was to direct recruitment. Throughout early 1917 there was a great countrywide recruitment drive.

During the by-election campaign for Joseph McGuinness in South Longford in May 1917, Michael stayed in the Greville Arms in Longford, a hotel run by the Kiernan family. Here he met the four attractive Kiernan girls – all of whom were in some way involved with their brother, Larry, in running the hotel, the bar, grocery and hardware shop, bakery and undertaking business. He took an instant liking to Helen but she was friendly with Paul McGovern; later when his attachment to Susan Killeen had ended he would pursue Helen.

Back in Dublin, Michael threw himself fully into his work at the National Aid office. Because of the many calls on the inadequate funds, especially by mid-June with more men released, there was a strain on the resources, and seeing so much poverty and unemployment he became more convinced that self-government was necessary. Kathleen Clarke had entrusted him with the names of the countrywide IRB contacts which her husband Tom had given her. This ‘gave him the leeway to get ahead,' she says; furthermore ‘he had the ability and the force and the enthusiasm and drive that very few men had, to work on that'.
3

Kathleen Clarke had also requested Cathal Brugha's cooperation in the strengthening of the IRB. Despite her argument that more members of the IRB had participated in the Rising than any other body, and that the majority of the executed men were IRB men, she failed to receive Brugha's assistance. Not only that, but, she maintains, he set out to destroy it. ‘I have decided the IRB must go!' he exclaimed one day as he stood in front of her and banged the table.
4

Collins, on the other hand, believed in the secrecy principle which the brotherhood upheld – a principle which he maintained had carried them far. He belonged to the Tom Clarke/Seán MacDermott school of thought, which believed that physical force would be the surest method of getting the British authorities to accede to Irish self-government. He maintained that the Irish Volunteers and the IRB should work in tandem. Being on the IRB Supreme Council, on the Volunteer Provisional Executive and on the National Aid board helped him to become acquainted with men and women throughout Ireland who would one day become part of the ‘great movement'.

Éamon de Valera, commandant at Boland's Mills during the 1916 Rising and already an acknowledged leader in Lewes jail, was returned as the Sinn Féin candidate on 10 July 1917, for the east Clare constituency.

As more and more prisoners were released, Collins' workload increased. He moved to more suitable office premises at 32 Bachelor's Walk (premises he used up until the Truce).

Vaughan's Hotel, Parnell Square, was the venue for a meeting of minds on many a night. Here Collins met Harry Boland, a young IRB activist who was also a member of the Volunteers, Sinn Féin and the GAA. Collins and Boland got on well; Boland had boundless energy and was enthusiastic and unselfish.

William T. Cosgrave, another survivor of 1916, won the Kilkenny by-election in August. Shortly afterwards, under the Defence of the Realm Act (DORA), the authorities saw a method of countering the disaffection by making widespread arrests. Three important leaders and close friends of Collins – Austin Stack, Fionán Lynch and Thomas Ashe – were arrested in August and joined some forty others in Mountjoy Jail. They went on hunger-strike for political status and in an effort to break them, force-feeding was introduced. On 25 September Ashe was carried back to his cell, unconscious. Soon he was dead.

His funeral was used by uniformed Volunteers, Cumann na mBan and Sinn Féin members to mount a pageant of loyalty and solidarity. After the ‘Last Post' had sounded, Collins, in military uniform, stepped forward and above the grave of his dead friend addressed the large assembly. As the crowds moved away, Collins stood, and wept bitterly. ‘I grieve perhaps as no one else grieves,' he wrote afterwards to Hannie.
5

From now on the mood of the country changed. Collins embarked on a nationwide campaign of meetings and speeches. He threw himself totally into whipping up recruits for the cause. ‘You have no idea of how busy I've been,' he wrote to Hannie on 8 October. ‘For about a fortnight I've been up almost alternate nights.'
6

Totally committed to separatism and disagreeing with Arthur Griffith's dual monarchy concept, Collins was, however, aware of the power of Sinn Féin. He urged the IRB to support de Valera for the Sinn Féin presidency at the October Convention (Ard Fheis). De Valera was duly elected and Collins was elected director of organisation.

In March 1918 Collins was selected adjutant-general of the Volunteers, responsible for organising both disciplinary and training procedures. As well as continuing to travel and organise throughout Ireland, Mick became a periodic weekender at Sam Maguire's London flat to discuss with him and other IRB men the opening of channels for the procurement of armaments for Ireland. Meanwhile, on both sides of the Irish sea, he continued to spread his net, accumulating information about the movements of members of British intelligence, often seeking the assistance of women to explore avenues discreetly.

Since March 1917 he had been indirectly receiving copies of reports emanating from Dublin Castle, British military headquarters in Ireland. Ned (Éamon) Broy was employed at detective headquarters in Dublin Castle with, among other duties, the daily task of typing detective reports on the countrywide movements of Sinn Féin members. Broy would slip in an extra sheet of carbon. The third copy he discreetly gave to a Sinn Féin member who in turn passed it to Michael Collins.

When Collins first met Ned Broy, Broy outlined the inner workings of the Castle, its system and its training technique. The police were divided into six divisions, with the G Division responsible for nationalist movements. This division had a countrywide network of ‘eyes and ears', its men filtering the daily activities of the nation – from railways to shops, police stations to ports.

In the early days of 1918 Collins recruited other national-minded detectives such as Joe Kavanagh and James MacNamara, who worked in the Castle. By this time most released prisoners had been absorbed into communities so there was little need for paid staff in the National Aid office. Collins had the freedom to pursue his ambition of full-time organiser of the cause of independence. Volunteers could drop into his office at 32 Bachelor's Walk – Volunteers such as Liam Tobin, intelligence officer to the Dublin Brigade. Harry Boland's tailor shop in Middle Abbey Street also became a centre where information was dropped, to be passed on to Mick. The two great friends would one day be rivals for the love of one young woman.

Notes