months there, and to come back again to Europe at the end of the
year. This time my visit was of a purely private character, and
the sluggishness of affairs allowed of my having a complete rest
from all sorts of investigations and interviews. I came to Europe
in connection with a business speculation which promised highly
satisfactory returns, and I was successful in laying the foundation
for a very encouraging enterprise. Unfortunately for me, however,
I was not to reap the fruits of my work. As a consequence of my
appearance in the witness-box, I was prevented from returning to
the States at the time when the profits were accruing, and so had to
undergo the loss of this as well as many other sources of income.
L.
The following year—1888—was my last in America, and ere its close
I left for the purpose of attending the dying bedside of my father.
I left for England in December with the full purpose of returning
in a month, but as matters turned out I really left my home for the
last time. I had written twice to Mr. Anderson, offering my services
in connection with the Special Commission, but nothing had come
of my proposal, and I had no idea that anything would happen in
connection with the matter. My idea was, as I have explained, that
the Government were really prosecuting the Parnellite party, and I
could not understand how all the information which I knew them to be
possessed of was not appearing. The charges and allegations had made
a great stir in America, and the disclosure of the whole working of
the Clan-na-Gael in the “Behind the Scenes” articles had created such
a sensation as seemed to me to make a full disclosure imperative,
so that the American public might have accurate and complete data
for arriving at a proper conclusion regarding the foul conspiracy
existing in their midst.
I must not, however, travel too fast; and so shall have to go back
a little, in order to complete the story of the Cronin-Sullivan
dispute, which, in a way, came to a conclusion in the year of which
I write. As I have already stated, the history of the Cronin affair
while it lasted was the history of the Clan-na-Gael for the time
being, and thus in completing my statement of it I shall be bringing
the record of revolutionary matters down to the date at which they
and I parted. To return, therefore, to the Cronin matter, which I
left at the point in 1886 where appeals from outside quarters failed
to heal the breach. As a last resort, a conference was arranged
in September 1887 between committees from each organisation, the
Sullivan section and the Cronin section; and a final effort was made
to settle the differences. Cronin was one of the committee from his
section, but he did not help the settlement. The conference continued
up to April 1888, when a basis of union was arrived at. The rock
upon which the disputants invariably split was the demand made by
the Cronin section for the appointment of a committee to try their
charges of misappropriation against the Executive, and the expulsion
of the Executive from the organisation if found guilty. In the end,
this was conceded; and a united Convention was called in June 1888,
which, meeting first in Maddison Street Theatre, was eventually
moved to Green Baum, in consequence of the allegation that British
detectives had gained admission to the former place of meeting.
Here was pandemonium let loose for eight days, during which the
Convention sat morning, noon, and night. I was a member of this
assembly, and I never heard such a row in my life. The Sullivanites
had it all their own way at first; but the seceders, with Cronin
at their head, threatened to “bolt” if they did not get fair play;
and they appealed to the patriotism of their countrymen to give
them a chance. They were, accordingly, given a representation on
all committees, but were always in a minority. Cronin perhaps took
as prominent a part in the Convention as any man, and his conduct
naturally incurred the enmity, and eventually the vengeance, of his
opponents. He and Devoy submitted formal charges of fraud, &c.,
against Sullivan’s executive.[5] Strong language was used, but
Sullivan’s friends defended him warmly. Finally a Trial Committee
was appointed to try the parties charged. Cronin, strange to say, was
a member of this Trial Committee, though he was one of the persons
making the charges. There was a terrible scene when his appointment
was made known, but the Convention had to put up with him in the end.
All the Trial Committee were sworn by the oath in the ritual to
truly and justly try the charges submitted to them. The committee
consisted of seven members, and as subsequent events showed, four of
them were Sullivan’s friends. They met in November 1888. Previous to
this, however, Cronin had been playing a very objectionable part.
He spoke against the accused whenever occasion offered, wrote to
the papers in accusation of them, and in no way showed himself the
unbiassed person he had sworn himself to be. Sullivan naturally felt
very bitter over all this, and he fell out with a number of friends
who sided with Cronin in the claim for full investigation. When the
trial came on, it was found that all the vouchers, papers, and indeed
every evidence of expenditure, had been destroyed, in accordance with
the resolution which had been adopted at the Boston Convention. This
increased the uproar, and after two weeks of inquiry the majority,
consisting of Sullivan’s friends, expressed themselves satisfied
with the statements made by the accused; while the minority could
only admit the proper expenditure of 33,000 dollars, which left a
deficiency of 85,000 dollars, or £17,000. The result of the trial
was that Michael Boland was convicted of misappropriation; Sullivan
was acquitted, but censured for the loose way in which the Executive
had done its business, and D. C. Feeley was likewise acquitted but
censured. The details of this finding were given me, by the way, by
Sullivan.
At the time I left for Europe, the Trial Committee had adjourned, and
Cronin was back in Chicago. The Executive had refused to sustain the
action of the Trial Committee by a majority of one, and there the
affair stood. But Cronin would not let well enough alone. He had
been talking very plainly, and denouncing Sullivan right and left. I
figured in this trial by furnishing Sullivan with affidavits for his
defence. Cronin afterwards charged Sullivan with getting me admitted
into the organisation, and with putting me into a position of trust.
This did not help matters, and altogether Cronin proved himself to be
a very dangerous man in the eyes of Sullivan. Doubtless he possessed
much information, the publication of which would damn Sullivan for
ever. What followed is a matter of recent inquiry. Cronin was foully
murdered, and Sullivan, with others, was charged with participation
in the crime. Sullivan was released, but three men, well-known
members of the Clan, were convicted, and sentenced to penal servitude
for life.[6] The inquiry was fruitful in many ways, and brought to
light a vast amount of corroboration of the most important portions
of my testimony. There were, however, no two more sensational
incidents than those produced by the report issued by Cronin after
the Trial Committee had dissolved, and the positive proof now
supplied for the first time of the statement frequently made, that
Sullivan had in May 1882 received in his position as chief of the
Clan-na-Gael a sum of £20,000 from Patrick Egan, then Treasurer of
the Land League in Paris.
The report issued by Cronin stated amongst other things—
“That the Trial Committee appointed at Chicago was unable to elicit
all the facts connected with the charges placed before it, because
of the refusal of several of the witnesses to answer many of the
questions asked, and because of the inability of others to remember
events and figures that might be supposed to be indelibly impressed
on their memories. From the evidence presented, I am obliged to
report—
“That the family of one who lost his life in the service of this
order was scandalously and shamefully neglected, and continued to
be neglected for two years after their destitute condition was
known, and that Alexander Sullivan, Michael Boland, and D. C.
Feeley are responsible and censurable for that neglect.
* * * * *
“That the defendants, Sullivan, Boland, and Feeley, issued a
deceptive report to the Boston Convention, leading the order
to believe that its affairs had been examined by independent
committees, and that the order was $13,000 in debt; that, in fact,
Alexander Sullivan and Michael Boland were on the Committee of
Foreign Affairs, and the Treasurer states that there was a balance
in the treasury, and not a debt.
“That, prior to the Boston Convention, one hundred and eleven
thousand ($111,000) dollars was expended without any direct or
indirect benefit to the order, and most of it in a manner that
could not in any way have benefited the order, and that the same
three defendants are censurable and responsible for this enormous
and wasteful expenditure.
* * * * *
“That the $80,491 reported to the district Convention as having
been spent in active work was not spent for any such work, no such
work having been done or contemplated during the eleven months
within which this large amount was drawn from the treasury. The
active work done between the Boston and district Conventions was
paid for out of the surplus held by the agent of the “Triangle” at
the time of the Boston Convention, and not out of the $87,491 drawn
from the treasury months after such active work had ceased.”
[Illustration: (Check for $30,000)]
I give these extracts in order to show the reader how matters stood
between Sullivan and Cronin on the eve of the latter’s murder. Into
the details of the £20,000 transaction I need not enter, beyond
stating the fact that banking officials were called to prove by their
books that on May 15, 1882, Sullivan cashed, through Monroe and
Co. of Paris, two cheques amounting to the sum I name. This, I may
state, was about the date when Sullivan, in response to Mr. Parnell’s
request, crossed to Paris in order to settle the difficulty with the
Revolutionary body on the British side. As the following extracts
will show, the matter had been one around which a great deal of
controversy had raged for many years:—
“The O’Donovan Rossa resents Mr. Patrick Egan’s imputation against
his character for truth and veracity. The O’Donovan, when in this
city a few days ago, intimated to a _Chicago Tribune_ reporter that
Mr. Patrick Egan, while Parnell, Dillon, Davitt, and other members
of the Executive of the Land League were in jail in Ireland, was
visited in Paris by Revolutionary Irish patriots from this country,
who induced him to give 100,000 dollars of the money contributed
to Land League purposes to them for revolutionary purposes, _i.e._
making war on the British Empire with dynamite and such things.
Mr. Egan having seen or heard of O’Donovan’s statement, denied
that there was a particle of truth in it, and sent the _Tribune_
a telegram to that effect from Denver. Now comes O’Donovan with a
rejoinder. We have received from him the following telegram:—
“‘_Editor of the “Tribune.”_
“‘Mr. Patrick Egan denies my statement. I say my statements are
more worthy of belief than Patrick Egan’s. I stated in Chicago
that money sent from America to support the no-rent movement in
Ireland was followed over by some parties who got 100,000 dollars
of it; that it was not used for any such work in Ireland, and
that Patrick Egan knows all about it. I repeat my assertion. Will
Patrick Egan meet me in the presence of John Finerty and Denis
O’Connor of Chicago, or in the presence of Patrick Ford and Major
Horgan of New York, both answering all questions under oath?
“‘O’DONOVAN ROSSA,
“‘_Editor_ “_United Irishman_.”
“‘NEW YORK, _July 15, 1883_.’”
LII.
Long before these final developments, however, I had sailed for
England, and severed for all time my connection with Irish politics
in the United States. I had come, as explained, to my father’s
dying bedside. Unfortunately for me, I was not in time to find him
conscious, and did not reach the house where he lay till the day on
which he died. When the sad offices connected with his death had
been fulfilled, I turned my thoughts again to home, and set about
preparing for another voyage to the States. Everything had been
completed for my departure, when I suddenly learned from Mr. Anderson
that the _Times_ had approached him with a view of obtaining a
witness regarding the American side of the conspiracy. Before this
point was reached, I had chatted over my proposal of going into the
witness-box with Mr. Anderson, but he had very frankly told me that
he had no intention of giving up such a useful informant of his own
initiative; and as he had no connection with the _Times_ case, he did
not think it likely that any approach would be made to him on the
subject.
Matters, however, turned out differently to what he expected, and on
the eve of my departure for America I learned that my services might,
after all, be utilised, and my desire to drive the truth home given
full play. To be effective, however, my coming appearance should be
kept a profound secret, and so I appealed to Mr. Anderson to make
such arrangements as would allow of this being the case. As a result,
I was informed a little later that the _Times_ people had arranged
that Mr. Houston should be the person with whom I should deal, and
that to him alone should I be known pending my appearance in the
witness-box. This was the first mention I had ever heard of Mr.
Houston, and it was with no little curiosity I made my way to No. 3
Cork Street in search of the gentleman to whom I bore a single line
of introduction. I remember well how, when I was first ushered into
his now familiar room by his faithful “Rogers,” I gazed suspiciously
at the tall youthful figure which met my view. As Mr. Houston took my
letter of introduction from me and carelessly opened it, answering
my suspicious glance with a slight smile hovering about his face, I
could not help the remark, “Sir, you are a much younger man than I
was led to believe I would meet.” The smile broadened into a laugh as
the reply came back, “I am sorry, but I cannot help being young, you
know. However, I am Mr. Houston.” And so we two people met for the
first time.
I informed Mr. Houston that it was always an understood thing on
my part that my letters to Mr. Anderson were private property,
and that whenever I liked to ask for them they would be at my
disposal. Accordingly I had, on learning that my evidence would be
accepted, requested that Mr. Anderson should allow me to go over
all my documents and select such as appeared necessary for the
corroboration of my statements, as well as for the assisting of my
memory. To this he had assented, excluding any of the papers which he
had made official by passing them on at the time of their receipt.
It was then arranged between Mr. Houston and myself that I should
get the documents from Mr. Anderson, and go to work at once in the
preparation of my evidence. Much to my disappointment, I learnt there
was not time for me to make a last hurried trip home, and that if
I was to carry out my intention of testifying I should have to be
content with the many losses which would result from my stopping
in England. One thing, however, I stipulated for, and that was the
bringing over of all my family to England before I appeared in the
box. I was willing to let all my private affairs go to ruin by my
non-return; but I was not prepared to leave my wife and family to
bear the brunt of the popular ill-will which would result from what
was to follow.
One of the first things I did, therefore, was to cable for my wife
and children; and having eased my mind on this score, I went to work
with a will in the preparation of my evidence. For ten long working
days, Mr. Houston and I waded through the hundreds of letters and
Clan-na-Gael documents I had now at my disposal, he taking notes as
he went along, and I dictating many items brought to my recollection
by the letters I was perusing. We worked in this way from ten to six
o’clock each day, undisturbed by visitors of any kind; and when I
left him, Mr. Houston, with the assistance of his clerks, worked far
into the night, copying the circulars, and transcribing the notes
which remained at the end of our day’s work.
On Tuesday morning, the 5th of February 1889, the curtain was
rung up, and throwing aside the mask for ever, I stepped into the
witness-box and came out in my true colours, as an Englishman, proud
of his country, and in no sense ashamed of his record in her service.
On what followed I need not dwell. While I was under examination,
my old employer, Mr. William Baber of Colchester, was brought into
court by the well-known detective Meiklejohn, in order that he might
identify me. Nothing, of course, came of the incident; but as I once
more saw Mr. Baber, I thought to myself how little he knew of the
part I had played at his father’s death-bed. It was in 1884 that I
was hurriedly called one day to see a patient who was said to be
dying. I found him an old man of eighty, surrounded by his family
and friends. In a few minutes he was dead; and finding that all round
about me were strangers to the grim monster, I performed the last
offices for the body. As I was so employed, the poor people related
to me their history, and then I learned to my surprise that the man
whose eyes I was now closing in death was none other than the father
of my former employer at Colchester, who had emigrated to America
some few years previously.
Great as was the sensation produced by my strange and weird but
true story, it was as nothing compared to that brought about by the
perfect corroboration afforded by the assassination of poor Cronin,
of whom I have said so much. Little did I think, when day after day I
stood in the witness-box to tell my tale, and morning after morning
read the scoffing references of those who believed it not, that in a
little while the blood of a murdered Gael would cry out in judgment
against those of whom I spoke, and that in the outcome truth would
prevail, and the black foul conspiracy be dragged into the open
light. Yet so it was; and to-day there are none who question the
existence of the murderous alliance to which I testified, and of men
within its ranks prepared to obey its leaders, even unto the shedding
of blood.
LIII.
I have told my story, and little more remains to be done. Yet I
cannot lay down my pen without rendering some little tribute to one
whose care and caution on my behalf I can never repay. I refer to
Mr. Anderson. For twenty-one years I served under this gentleman
in the Secret Service, and no greater honour can I pay him than to
say that during all this time I was never discovered. Only those
who have played my part can fully appreciate what this means. Not
always careful, not always guarded enough in the rattle and bustle
of my life, there were times when, had it not been for my chief’s
watchfulness, discovery might have overtaken me. But he never
wavered or grew lax in his care. He proved indeed to me, not the
ordinary official superior, but a kind trusty friend and adviser,
ever watchful in my interests, ever sympathising with my dangers
and difficulties. To him, and to him alone, was I known as a Secret
Service agent during the whole of the twenty-one years of which I
speak. Therein lay the secret of my safety. If others less worthy of
the trust than he had been charged with the knowledge of my identity,
then I fear I should not be here to-day on English soil quietly
penning these lines.
If my identity remained undiscovered, it was not for want of attempts
on the part of colleagues of Mr. Anderson to find it out. It was but
natural, of course, that those associated with my chief should seek
to penetrate his reserve regarding such a voluminous correspondent as
myself, and to gain, at first hand, possession of the many important
pieces of information which he alone appeared to be able to supply.
All attempts, however, in this direction, and they were many, proved
fruitless. So determined was a certain public official at one time
to discover my identity, that having in some way got hold of my
Christian name, Thomas—I always wrote in the name of Beach to Mr.
Anderson—and assuming it to be my surname, he despatched a detective
to Chicago to discover the man called Thomas in the organisation
there. Of course there was no chance of getting at me in this way,
but, nevertheless, I was warned in time, and left no possible
loophole for discovery. Imagine, dear reader, the weakness of such
a policy as this, which would commit the safety of an important
informant to the irresponsible knowledge of an ordinary detective!
When this attempt failed, communications were sought to be opened
up with me by the same official through Sir John Rose and Judge
M‘Micken, with whom I had acted at the time of the Fenian raid
of 1870. So strong, indeed, was the pressure brought upon Judge
M‘Micken, that the old gentleman travelled specially to Chicago to
see me on the point. However, I would have none of it. I was quite
contented, and too well assured of my safety as I was; and so, much
to my own satisfaction, I was left undisturbed in Mr. Anderson’s
charge.
There was only one thing about which he had frequently to remonstrate
with me, and that was my expenditure. Many a lecture did I receive
from him on the subject of money spending. It was not, of course, his
fault, but rather that of the system. Indeed, so kind and friendly
was he that he at times advanced me money for which he himself had
to wait for repayment for some time, if indeed he ever got all of it
back, which I very much doubt. Of course I could not help spending
the money. I tried to be as sparing as possible, and, whenever I
could, debited my expenses to those other undertakings which I
allied with my Secret Service work. But it was not always possible
to pursue such an economic course, and in very many instances where
Mr. Anderson could not pay, I had to pay myself. I occupied a certain
position; I had to live up to that position. The expenditure of money
amongst the Irish patriotic class was an absolute necessity for my
purpose, and consequently I could never put any money by, but rather
lived up to, if not, indeed, at times beyond every penny of my income.
On this question of Secret Service money I could say much. The
miserable pittance doled out for the purpose of fighting such an
enemy as the Clan-na-Gael becomes perfectly ludicrous in the light
of such facts as I have quoted in connection with the monetary side
of the Dynamite Campaign. Gallaher, as I have said, had no less
than £1400 on his person when arrested in 1883; while, coming down
to a later date, Moroney, when despatched from New York in 1887,
in connection with the second stage of the Jubilee explosion plot,
carried with him some £1200. How on earth can the English police and
their assistants in the Secret Service hope to grapple with such
heavily financed plots as this, on the miserable sums granted by
Parliament for the purpose? There are, I believe, some thirty men
charged with the special duty of circumventing political crime in
London. All praise and honour to them for the work they have done,
and the sincerest of congratulations to Chief-Inspector Littlechild,
who so ably conducted the arrests of all the principals of the
latter-day dynamite plots. But these policemen have succeeded more by
chance than anything else; events have played into their hands, and,
clever men that they are, they have been sufficiently capable to take
advantage of the little that came to their knowledge, and from small
clues to work out great things.