The place was full of books; you could not walk about without stumbling over them. There were times, too, when the house looked like the wardrobe in a theater. You would meet people coming down-stairs in all manner of costume for their part in plays the count wrote and "Madam"—as we called her—acted with the help of whoever were her guests. These theatrical costumes were sometimes used for plays put on at the Abbey Theater, near by. They served, too, as disguises for suffragettes or labor leaders wanted by the police. The house was always watched whenever there was any sort of agitation in Dublin.
I remember hearing of one labor leader whom the police hoped to arrest before he could address a mass-meeting. He was known to visit Madam, so the plainclothes men made for Surrey House at once. When they arrived they found a fancy-dress ball going on to welcome the count back from Poland. All windows were lighted, music for dancing could be heard, and guests in carriages and motors were arriving. This was no likely haunt for a labor agitator, so they went away. But caution brought them back the next morning, for rumor still had it that their man was hiding there. They waited about the house all that morning and afternoon. Many persons came and went, among them an old man who walked with difficulty and leaned upon the arm of a young woman. The police paid no more attention to him than to the others, but it was the labor leader in one of the disguises from the theatrical wardrobe. He made his speech that night surrounded by such a crowd of loyal defenders that he could not be arrested.
During the Transport Workers' strike in 1913, Madam threw open her house as a place of refuge where strikers were sure to find something to eat or a spot to sleep, if only on the drawing-room floor. In addition, she sold her jewels to obtain money to establish soup-kitchens for their families. Her energy and courage always led her where the conflict was hottest. I do not think she knew what it was to be afraid, once she decided upon a course of action. Although belonging to the most privileged class in Ireland by birth and education, as a little girl she had thrown herself into the Irish cause. She and her sister Eva used to go to the stables, take horses without permission, and ride at a mad pace to the big meetings. There they would hear the great Parnell or the eloquent Michael Davitt tell the story of the wrongs done to Ireland, and urge upon their hearers great courage and self-sacrifice that these wrongs might be righted. If all those at such meetings had heeded the speakers' words as did this little daughter of Lady Gore-Booth; had they surrendered themselves as completely as she did, I verily believe we would to-day be far along the road toward a free Ireland.
As a child all the villagers on her father's estate loved Madam, for they felt her sincerity. When she was sent away to school or went to Paris to study painting, for which she had marked talent, they missed her. It was while she was in Paris that she met and married another artist, a member of the Polish nobility. Poland and Ireland! Two countries which have had their great history and their great humiliation now have their hope of freedom!
Neither the count nor countess were willing to permanently give up their country of birth, so they decided to live part of the time in Dublin and part of the time on his estates near Warsaw. It was while Madam was in Poland that she learned some of the fine old Polish airs to which she later put words for the Irish. Upon her return to Ireland she was at last expected to take her place as a social leader in the Dublin Castle set. Instead, she went more ardently than ever into all the different movements that were working towards the freedom of Ireland.
About this time Baden-Powell was organizing his British Boy Scouts in Ireland. He was so much impressed with the success Padraic Pearse was having with Irish boys that he asked him to help him in the Boy Scout movement. Pearse did not care to make potential British soldiers out of Irish boys, however, and refused this invitation. The incident stirred Madam to urge an Irish Boy Scout movement. She could not find any one to take it up with energy, so she decided to do it herself with Pearse's coöperation. Madam had never done work of this sort, but that did not deter her. Since it must be an organization that would do something for Irish spirit in Irish boys, she named it after the Fianna Fireann, a military organization during the reign of Cormac MacAirt, one of the old Irish heroes. Its story was one of daring and chivalry such as would appeal to boys. With this name went instruction in Ireland's history in the days of her independence and great deeds, as well as instruction in scouting and shooting.
At Cullenswood House, where Padraic Pearse had his boys' school until it outgrew these quarters, there is a fresco in the hall that pictures an old Druid warning the boy hero, Cuchullain, that whoever takes up arms on a certain day will become famous, but will die an early death. The answer, which became a motto for the boys in that school and also a prophecy of their teacher's death, is in old Irish beneath the fresco:
"I care not if my life has only the span of a night and a day if my deeds be spoken of by the men of Ireland!"
It was in this spirit of devotion to Ireland that the Fianna boys were drilled. The house in Leinster Road was always running over with them, some as young as ten years. You would find them studying hard or, just as likely, sliding down the fine old banisters. Madam never went anywhere that they did not follow as a bodyguard. They loved her and trusted her, a high compliment, since I have always found that boys are keen judges of sincerity. If her work had been either pose or mere hysterical enthusiasm, as some English "friends" in Dublin have sought to make the world believe, these boys would have discovered it quickly enough. As it was, they remained her friends, and two of the younger men, executed after Easter Week, were volunteer officers who received their first training under Madam in the Fianna.
The countess was one of the best shots in Ireland, and taught the boys how to shoot. After the rising, when we all had surrendered, there still was one house from which constant and effective firing went on for three days. At last a considerable force of British took it by storm. Imagine the surprise of the officer in command when he found that its only occupants were three boys, all under sixteen!