at the headquarters of the Fenian Brotherhood, then situated in the
mansion at 10 West Fourth Street. Here I found the President of the
Brotherhood, surrounded by his staff of officials, transacting the
duties of their various positions with all the pomp and ceremony
usually associated with the representatives of the greatest nations
on earth. I was not long left in suspense as to what was required of
me. Commissioned at the very outset as Major and Military Organiser
of the Irish Republican Army (at a salary of sixty dollars per month,
with seven dollars per day expenses), I was instructed to proceed
to the Eastern States in company with a civil organiser, in order
to visit and reorganise the different military bodies attached to
the rebel society. To my unhappy amazement, I learned that I was,
while engaged on this work, to address public meetings in support of
the cause, and my miserable feelings were accentuated by O’Neill’s
desire that I should accompany him, the very evening of my arrival,
to a large demonstration being held at Williamsburg, a suburb of
Brooklyn. I was in a regular mess, for if called on to speak—as I
feared—I should be found absolutely ignorant of Irish affairs. There
was nothing for it, however, but to keep a brave face, for I had
undertaken my work, and in its lexicon there was no such word as fail.
[Illustration: (Commission as Major)]
The evening came, and with it our trip to Williamsburg. On arrival
there, in the company of O’Neill and some brother officers, I found
several thousands of persons assembled. We were greeted with the
greatest enthusiasm, and given the seats of honour to the right and
left of the chairman. My position was a very unhappy one. I was
in a state of excessive excitement, for I greatly feared what was
coming. Seated as I was next to O’Neill, I could hear him tell the
chairman on whom to call, and how to describe the speakers; and,
as each pause took place between the speeches, I hung with nervous
dread on O’Neill’s words, fearing my name would be the next. The
meeting proceeded apace; some four or five of my companions had
already spoken, and I was beginning to think that, after all, the
evil hour was postponed, and that for this night at least I was
safe. Not so, however. All but O’Neill and myself had spoken, when,
to my painful surprise, I heard the General call upon the chairman
to announce Major Le Caron. The moment was fraught with danger; my
pulses throbbed with maddening sensation; my heart seemed to stop its
beating; my brain was on fire, and failure stared me in the face.
With an almost superhuman effort I collected myself, and as the
chairman announced me as Major M‘Caron, tickled by the error into
which he had fallen, and the vast cheat I was playing upon the whole
of them, I rose equal to the occasion, to be received with the most
enthusiastic of plaudits.
The hour was very late, and I took advantage of the circumstance.
Proud and happy as I was at being with them that evening, and
taking part in such a magnificent demonstration, they could not,
I said, expect me to detain them long at so advanced an hour. All
had been said that could be said upon the subject nearest and
dearest to their hearts. (Applause.) If what I had experienced that
night was indicative of the spirit of patriotism of the Irish in
America—(tremendous cheering)—then indeed there could be no fears
for the result. (Renewed plaudits.) And now I would sit down. They
were all impatiently waiting, I knew, to hear the stirring words
of the gallant hero of Ridgeway, General O’Neill—(thunders of
applause)—and I would, in conclusion, simply beg of them as lovers
of liberty and motherland—(excited cheering)—to place at the
disposal of General O’Neill the means (cash) necessary to carry out
the great work on which he was engaged. This work, I was confident,
would result in the success of our holy cause, and the liberation of
dear old Ireland from the thraldom of the tyrant’s rule, which had
blighted and ruined her for seven hundred years.
These last words worked my hearers up to the highest pitch of
enthusiasm, and amidst their excited shouts and cheers I resumed my
seat, with the comforting reflection that if it took so little as
this to arouse the Irish people, I could play my _rôle_ with but
little difficulty. And as time passed on, and my experience widened,
the justice of the reflection was fully assured. With a little
practice and scarce any labour, save that necessitated by the use
of a pair of scissors and some paste, I succeeded in hoodwinking
the poor and deluded, together with the unprincipled, blatant,
professional Irish patriots.
Before, however, starting on my travels as organiser, I had an
experience which went far to justify all I had previously thought and
heard as regards the part played by Andrew Johnson in connection
with the first Canadian raid. I recall the incident as important,
as showing to what extremes American political exigencies have
carried men in catering for the Irish vote in America. About American
politics generally I shall have something to say later on; but as
this matter fits in chronologically here, I think it better to deal
with it now. Johnson, it must be remembered, was not by any means
a man above suspicion. In 1868, so great was the disaffection with
his administration of the Presidency, that he was impeached, though
unsuccessfully, by the Senate.
[Illustration: ALEXANDER SULLIVAN]
It was in this year—1868—that, at O’Neill’s request, I accompanied
him to the White House to have an interview with Johnson. O’Neill
and he had been personal friends from ’62, when Johnson had acted as
Military Governor in Tennessee. The precise object of our visit was
the securing of Johnson’s influence in the return of the arms to the
Fenian Brotherhood, previously seized by the American Government. It
will be remembered that I mentioned, some pages back, that every gun
taken by the United States Government, after the first raid in 1866,
was returned to the Fenian organisation by this government under a
promise, only made to be broken, that they should not be used in
any unlawful enterprise; and in consideration of certain worthless
bonds.
Our reception at the White House was a cordial one, O’Neill’s
distinctly so. During the conversation the President used some
remarkable words. So strange did they sound in my ears, that they
impressed themselves upon my memory, and are even now fresh in my
recollection.
“General,” said Johnson, addressing O’Neill, “your people unfairly
blame me a good deal for the part I took in stopping your first
movement. Now I want you to understand that my sympathies are
entirely with you, and anything which lies in my power I am willing
to do to assist you. But you must remember that I gave you five full
days before issuing any proclamation stopping you. What, in God’s
name, more did you want? If you could not get there in five days,
by God, you could never get there; and then, as President, I was
compelled to enforce the Neutrality Laws, or be denounced on every
side.”
Such was the language used, such the position assumed, and such the
apology tendered to the Fenian leader of 1868 by the President of the
United States Government. Can any comment of mine point the moral and
adorn the tale of all this better than the incident itself can do
when left in its naked and startling significance? I think not.
X.
I entered with a will upon my duties as travelling organiser, and
was alike successful in winning the confidence of almost every
Fenian with whom I was brought into contact, and in obtaining the
most important information and details for the Home Government.
Matters had meantime proceeded apace, so that when the Philadelphia
Convention of 1868 was held, O’Neill’s determination to invade Canada
a second time was ratified without a dissentient voice. I was now
promoted to the rank of Inspector-General, and was from time to time
sent along the Canadian border to locate the arms and ammunition.
The situation was becoming critical where British interests were
concerned; and, in order to grapple with the pressure of the
moment, I was placed in direct communication with Lord Monck, then
Governor-General of Canada. I paid a visit to Ottawa, and when there,
planned a system of daily communication with the Chief Commissioner
of Police in Canada, Judge J. G. M‘Micken, with whom, from this date
to the total disruption of the Fenian organisation in 1870, I acted
in concert and in the most perfect harmony.
I cannot speak too highly of the treatment I received at Judge
M‘Micken’s hands. Comparatively young in years as I was then,
distinctly youthful in Secret Service experience, I found him ever
ready and willing to help me, meeting me at a moment’s notice,
placing everything at my disposal, and watching over my safety and
my interests with a fatherly care which I shall ever recall with
thoughts of the keenest appreciation. Equally pleasant and agreeable
was my connection with the Home Government. Many changes had taken
place since my visit to England, and those with whom I had first
had communication had disappeared from this work to give place to
Mr. Anderson, with whom alone I had to deal from this time forward.
I shall have a good deal to say about Mr. Anderson further on, and
therefore I shall only delay here to repeat what I have said above,
that with England as with Canada my connection was of the most
satisfactory and pleasant character.
XI.
It was during the autumn of 1868 that, in the course of my travels
on behalf of the organisation, I first met Alexander Sullivan.
Alexander Sullivan is a well-known man to-day, but if by any chance
his identity has to be marked, little else need be mentioned beyond
the words, “The Cronin affair.” He was a young man then, but then as
now he was the same Alexander Sullivan, clever, unscrupulous, careful
only of himself, subordinating everything to his personal ambition,
using Irish politics as a stepping-stone to advancement in American
affairs, and reckless who or what suffered if but he did succeed.
The “Arch Fiend” of Irish-American politics, as he has been dubbed,
and the alleged chief conspirator in the brutal murder of Dr. Cronin,
is no ordinary man; he is an individual with a history, and that not
by any means a creditable one. The son of a British pensioner, born
in Canada some forty-five years ago, he left that country under a
cloud, and settled down in Detroit, where he started a boot-and-shoe
store in the Bresler Block, Michigan Avenue. On the night of the 12th
May 1868 a fire totally destroyed his shop and its contents. The
occurrence had its suspicious features, and Sullivan was arrested
on a charge of arson. Although the over-insurance of his goods and
other questionable proceedings were proved at the trial, he gained
his liberty through an alibi, sustained by the evidence of Margaret
Buchanan, a teacher in the public school of Detroit, who afterwards
became his wife. A man, as I have said, of stirring ambition, he had
from the outset of his career in Detroit taken a prominent part in
political affairs, and his status as an Irish leader (he was then a
State “Centre” for Michigan) lent his position and views a certain
importance. He took an active part in the then pending national
campaign upon the side and in the interests of General Grant and
Schyler Colfax, who in that year were nominated as the respective
Republican candidates for President and Vice-President of the
republic.
It was at this time that Sullivan commenced his political tricks
in the manipulation of the Irish vote in American party interests,
and it was in consequence of his action in this respect that I was
first brought into contact with him. Previous to this date, the Irish
vote had been almost exclusively Democratic; but, from the loud and
frequent complaints which reached headquarters, Sullivan was found to
be using his influence in the organisation for political purposes,
and seeking to bring about a change of policy in the organisation
itself, which threatened a serious schism amongst our members.
I was despatched by the President to Detroit in order to investigate
the case, and if possible settle the difficulty. I found ample proof
of Sullivan’s guilt of the charges alleged against him, and, after
repeated interviews between us, he agreed that the best thing he
could do would be to hand in his resignation as State “Centre” of
the Brotherhood, which he accordingly did. My intercourse with him
at this time left no doubt on my mind as to his great ability. His
line of defence was an exceedingly clever one, and is well worth
recording here, as showing how in these early days Sullivan had
carefully mapped out his policy in regard to Irish affairs, and their
connection with American matters. He contended that, in all he had
done, he had had the best interests of Ireland at heart. He did not,
he said, consider that the Irish people in America had ever occupied
the position in the body politic to which they were fairly entitled.
The Irish vote, argued he, had been hitherto solidly cast for the
Democratic party. Only a division of that vote would cause them to be
a potent power in politics. With that position and influence to which
they were entitled assured to them, they could make terms with the
American Government for the cause of Ireland.
The history of the past twenty years shows how cleverly Sullivan
worked out these views of his, and gained acceptance for them at the
hands of his fellow-patriots. The pity of it is, however, that in
the result Ireland has gained not at all, while Irish patriots like
Sullivan and Egan have filled their pockets and reaped their harvests
in Chili and elsewhere.
Sullivan’s immediate reward was his appointment as United States
Collector of Internal Revenue at Santa Fé, New Mexico. His
resignation of his official position in the Brotherhood had come too
late; his work bore fruit in the Presidential election, the vote was
split, and so he earned his wage. It is worthy of note that this was
the first time the Irish vote was split, and that Sullivan was the
primary cause of it. Ever since the vote has so remained, to the
advantage of the Irish leaders of both sides, who, in the scramble
for office, barter the adhesion of their followers in the public
market-place.
Santa Fé, however, did not hold Sullivan long. His shady methods
compelled him to make an inglorious exit; and so he was to be
found in the year 1873 working with his wife, _née_ Buchanan, in a
reporting capacity on Chicago newspapers.
Here for the present, however, I must leave Sullivan. I have dealt
thus fully with the man at this early stage, because of the strange
influence he from this time forth wielded over Irish politics in
America; and in order to properly represent his character, I have
somewhat anticipated events in his life which are far ahead of the
time with which I am at present dealing. I have done so advisedly,
for Sullivan will play a large part in the chapters to which I must
now proceed. Where his personality will not thrust itself upon the
scene, his shadow will darken every act and incident. From this
time onward, for a period of twenty years, I used the man as my
dupe. Feeding his vanity, assisting his ambition, helping him in the
hundred and odd ways in which it was possible for me to do, I gained
his friendship and his confidence to such an extent, that no man in
the whole course of my career in the Secret Service proved a more
valuable, albeit an unconscious, ally than he.
XII.
Before continuing my narrative, I will stop to relate one of the
few cases in which I was forced into a very narrow place, and faced
with the near possibility of complete exposure. The incident is
useful as illustrating the dangers by which I was surrounded, and
the requirements of the position in which I was placed. At a council
of war held in Troy House, Troy, New York, in the month of November
1868, I came in contact with John Roche, well known as one of the
shining lights of Irish nationality in that city. Roche was one
of those hypercritical and over-suspicious individuals who were
constantly recognising British detectives in every stranger whom they
met. He had been, I discovered, originally a resident of Montreal,
and as I had been instructed by O’Neill to visit and study the
enemy’s country, I indicated to Roche my desire of ascertaining the
names of a few reliable brothers whom I could visit. The truth was
that the Canadian Government were at this time particularly anxious
to find out the extent of the organisation which they knew existed
in several of their large cities, notably Montreal, Kingstown, and
Toronto; and I thought this a good opportunity of getting some useful
hints.
Roche furnished me with the names of several leading members.
Unluckily for me, I foolishly wrote the particulars down in a
note-book in his presence. The act, in his opinion, was a suspicious
one. He watched me closely, and evidently conceived the idea that
my patriotism was of a very incautious character, if not worse. On
the eighth of the following month, at the Annual Convention held in
the Masonic Hall, Philadelphia, to which he was a delegate, I found
his suspicions solidified in the form of a set of charges against
me, imputing carelessness, dangerous conduct, and suspicious acts.
My friends, and they were legion, together with myself, indignantly
denied the allegations, and virtuously demanded an inquiry, which
was granted, and a committee was appointed to lay the charges.
Roche was duly heard, injured innocence was largely _en evidence_
on my part, and very quickly a unanimous verdict was reported back
to the Convention, asserting that the charges were scandalous and
without the slightest foundation, it being fully demonstrated by the
following letter that I was authorised to visit and acquaint myself
with the other side, as I represented to Roche:—
“HEAD-QUARTERS FENIAN BROTHERHOOD,
“NO. 10 WEST FOURTH STREET,
“NEW YORK, _October 23, 1868_.
“P. O. BOX 5141.
“HENRY LE CARON,
“Care of Capt. T. O’Hagan,
“Ogdensburg, N.Y.
“DEAR SIR AND BROTHER,—Yours of the 20th and 21st came duly to
hand and are perfectly satisfactory.
“I think it better not to commence equalising goods just yet; I
will write you again on the matter.
“It would be highly beneficial to us for you to avail yourself of
every opportunity to study the country on both sides of the line
for future emergencies.
“Everything here is going on satisfactorily.
“Yours fraternally,
“JOHN O’NEILL,
“_Pres. F.B._”
I did not, however, deem it prudent to let matters rest even here,
feeling that my ultimate success in the interests of the Government
depended upon absolute confidence on the part of the ruling powers.
Accordingly I sat down and immediately wrote out my resignation as an
officer of the Irish Republican Army, giving this want of confidence
as my reason, and couching my letter in indignant terms. As I hoped
and anticipated, my letter brought the following welcome response,
which placed me on a surer footing than ever, and brought me into
even more confidential relations with the head of the organisation
than I had hitherto enjoyed:—
“WAR DEPARTMENT, FENIAN BROTHERHOOD,
“NO. 10 WEST FOURTH STREET,
“NEW YORK, _December 29, 1868_.
“P. O. Box 5141,
“Major H. LE CARON,
“Box 1004,
“Chicago, Ill.
“MAJOR,—Your letter tendering your resignation as an officer of
the I.R.A. came duly to hand, but I delayed answering until such
time as I could submit it to the President, who was out of town,
as without his instructions I could give you nothing definite in
reply. He now directs me to say that it is his wish you should
remain an officer of the organisation, and that if you require a
leave of absence for a month or more, you can have it. He further
says he hopes it will not be long before the opportunity you refer
to may be granted. Your services have been thoroughly appreciated
both by him and the officials of both Departments, civil and
military, therefore you should not notice the inuendoes or taunts
of parties who cannot value your services. If the officers of the
organisation who have been vilified and calumniated were to resign
on that account, some of its best officers would not now be at
their post. The ‘Patriot’s meed is bitter;’ they must bear with
much, even from those who should be the first to defend and sustain
them.
“Personally, I would advise you to act on the suggestions of the
President, and hope you will.
“The President will write you in a few days. Whatever course you
may decide upon pursuing in this matter, you shall always carry
with you the best wishes of
“Your friend and brother,
“J. WHITEHEAD BYRON,
“_Col. & A.A.G., F.B._”
I got thus safely out of my awkward position, and learnt one good
lesson. I never kept a pocket-book again.
XIII.
The Annual Convention to which I have made reference in connection
with the Roche incident took place in Philadelphia, “the city of
brotherly love,” in the month of December 1868. It was made the
occasion of an immense demonstration, no less than 6000 armed and
uniformed Fenian soldiers parading the streets. The convention itself
was numerically a large one, and was attended by over 400 properly
qualified delegates. The proceedings were of the usual kind. Brag
and bluster were the order of the day. The determination to invade
Canada once more was still upheld by the vote of the assembly,
and the position of O’Neill and his colleagues was as fixed and
satisfactory as ever—that of myself, of course, being included in
this reference.
The report of the envoy to the sister organisation in Ireland—Daniel
Sullivan, Secretary of Civil Affairs—was an interesting document,
and contained full details of the Clerkenwell Explosion of the
previous year. This was the attempt to blow up Clerkenwell
Prison which Mr. Parnell subsequently described in reply to Mr.
Gladstone—the old Mr. Gladstone, I mean, not the new one—as “a
practical joke.” It was, however, as we in Philadelphia were to
learn, anything but a practical joke. It was rather as cool and
carefully planned a scheme as ever Fenianism indulged in to spite
the British Government. If the attempt failed to accomplish all that
was expected of it, it was yet very fruitful in drawing from Mr.
Gladstone a confession about its effect being “to bring the Irish
question within the range of practical politics,” which has ever
since proved the most effective and popular argument advanced on
behalf of dynamite in the United States.
About this time, John Boyle O’Reilly, a very well-known Irishman,
late editor of the _Boston Pilot_, a poet and novelist, and author
of a delightfully written novel, “Moondyne,” the material for
which was obtained during his confinement in Australia as a Fenian
prisoner, first arrived in New York, having succeeded in making his
escape from the convict settlement at Freemantle. With his appearance
came the idea of rescuing his fellow-prisoners. The proposal, first
mooted in uncertainty, was eventually taken up with the greatest
enthusiasm, and carried to a most successful conclusion. For the
purpose a whaler was chartered by the organisation and fitted out at
New Bedford, Massachusetts, with the ostensible object of whaling
in the South Seas, but, in reality, for bringing the convicts off
from Australia. The boat was partially manned by trusted men of the
organisation, though, to keep up the deception, a certain number
of well-known whalers’ men went to make up the crew. On arrival
at Australia, some of the most trusted Fenians were landed with
instructions to open up communication with the convicts, while
the vessel cruised about on the high seas. It was not anticipated
that the task set the men left on shore would be a difficult one,
because the convicts were hired out as labourers during the day,
and communication with them was not by any means a trying matter.
As affairs turned out, it was quite easy. The men from the whaler,
however, had not been landed more than a day or two, when they found
that they were not the only persons arranging the convicts’ rescue.
Two men—M‘Carthy and Gray—were already at work in this direction,
having been sent out by the Supreme Council of the Fenian Brotherhood
in Ireland, at the instigation, as he claimed to me subsequently, of
Patrick Egan. M‘Carthy and Gray had, it appeared, already established
communications with the convicts; and so, in order to expedite
matters, the two sections of rescuers joined forces. On a given day,
the plot was carried to a successful termination, and the rescued men
were placed on board the whaler, which immediately set out for the
States. Although an armed cruiser was immediately despatched to stop
it, and some firing took place, the whaler succeeded in getting out
of Australian waters and on the high seas in safety.
XIV.