Chapter III: Part 3

A council of war followed, and all was now activity. In view of active operations in Canada, all monies were called in, and orders were issued from head-quarters to have in readiness all the military organisations. The final order was issued in April as follows:—

“HEAD-QUARTERS FENIAN BROTHERHOOD,
“NO. 10 WEST FOURTH STREET,
“NEW YORK, _February 10, 1870_.

“P.O. BOX 5141.

“_To the Military Officers of the Fenian Brotherhood._

“BROTHERS,—You have, no doubt, ere this received general orders
No. 1 from General Michael Kerwin, Secretary of War, F.B.
(head-quarters, No. 50 North 12th Street, Philadelphia, Penna).
_A strict compliance with the requirements thereof is hereby
imperatively demanded._ The success or failure of our holy cause
now depends upon the prompt and energetic performance of the
duties incumbent upon each and all of us, and upon none does the
responsibility rest so heavily as upon the military officers of the
F.B.

“Brothers, if you be so situated that business or family duties
will prevent you from getting your commands in readiness for
_active and immediate service_, you will please forward your
resignations to the Secretary of War _at once_, and at the same
time send on the names of persons suitable to take your places. If
you are thoroughly in earnest, you will not hesitate to give your
assistance to those who may be appointed to fill the vacancies
created by your voluntary withdrawal from the positions to which
you have been commissioned.

“Your duty, if circumstances permit, will be to get your men in
readiness at the earliest practicable moment. If you should resign,
this duty will devolve upon your successors. If there are any arms,
ammunition, or military clothing within your knowledge which can
be forwarded to certain points, to be named hereafter, so inform
the Secretary of War, whom you will address in reply to this
circular, and he will, on receipt of your communications, forward
_private instructions_ with regard to your respective commands.

“Pay no attention to what may appear upon the surface or in
newspapers. We mean fight—speedy fight—_and nothing else, thigin
thu_?[2]

“Officers receiving copies of Military Oath with this circular will
sign the same in presence of witness, and return to the Secretary
of War.

“Ascertain and report how many of your men can and will furnish
their own transportation, and in the meantime try and persuade all
of them to save enough for that purpose. Military men should not
forget that the civic circles have supplied the means wherewith
to provide breech-loaders, ammunition, &c. &c. Their liberality
in these regards will, to a limited extent, relieve them from the
responsibility of advancing the means of transportation. They will
not, however, hesitate to co-operate with the military branch of
the F.B. in this matter.

“_Preserve the utmost secrecy with regard to this circular, and
reply at once._ Delay, and you are guilty of neglect of duty!

“Yours fraternally,
“JOHN O’NEILL,
“_President Fenian Brotherhood_.

“HEAD-QUARTERS, WAR DEPARTMENT, F.B.,
“DECKERTOWN, SUSSEX COUNTY, N.J.,
“_April 28, 1870_.

“General Orders.
“No....

“Commanding officers of regiments, companies, and detachments will
hold their respective commands in readiness to move at a moment’s
notice.

“Officers of circles having no military organisations attached
will immediately take the necessary steps to organise the military
of their neighbourhoods, and forward to this office the names of
officers selected, so that they may be commissioned.

“Commanding officers of companies will get as many men as possible
ready to move at once, leaving to the civic officers the task of
collecting and forwarding—if possible within twenty-four hours
thereafter—those who may not be able to move with the first
detachments.

“Officers and men must avoid the use of uniforms or any insignia
that would distinguish them.

“Officers must not be recognised by military titles, and officers
or men must not speak of Fenian matters while _en route_.

“Take no man who is a loafer or a habitual drunkard.

“Take no man who has not seen service, or who has not sufficient
character to ensure his good behaviour _en route_ and in presence
of the enemy.

“Any arms, uniforms, or war material remaining in the hands of
circles _must be immediately_ packed and forwarded to the points
designated in circular of February 19, 1870.

“Hold no communications with any person not authorised from these
head-quarters. All letters relating to military matters must be
addressed to M. Kerwin, Deckertown, Sussex County, New Jersey.

“Let no consideration prevent a prompt compliance with this order.

“M. KERWIN,
“_Brig.-Gen. and Sec. of War_.

“Approved,
“JOHN O’NEILL,
“_President Fenian Brotherhood_.

“H. le Caron,
“_Col. and Adj.-General_.”

XV.

At this time I was out West, and receiving a telegram from O’Neill, directing me to meet him in Buffalo, I hurried thither without delay. I reached that city only to find that O’Neill had ordered an immediate movement on Canada, and that, as he phrased it, “no power on earth could stop it.” This condition of things startled and surprised me. His determination in the way of immediate action was opposed to the decision of the last council of war, and my chiefs in Canada would, I feared, be quite unprepared. I at once telegraphed the authorities at Ottawa, and was soon in personal communication with their trusted agents in Buffalo. Fortunately, as matters turned out, the plan of action was the same as decided upon at the last council of war, the full details of which the authorities possessed; and so the situation was not so complex as I had at first feared.

The next few days were busy ones. All military commanders were ordered to report at given points with their commands; instructions were issued for the placement of arms by the following Tuesday, at rendezvous near the line at Franklin and Malone, and I was appointed Adjutant-General with the rank of Brigadier-General. We had quick promotion and brave ranks in the Fenian army!

On Saturday, April 22, 1870, O’Neill and I left Buffalo for St. Albans, he full of enthusiasm and the belief that the Canadians would be taken entirely by surprise, I laughing to myself at his coming discomfiture. We arrived at Milton, Vermont, at daylight on the following morning, to find that everything was proceeding most satisfactorily. Prompt action had been taken by those in charge of the munitions of war, and by the following Tuesday morning sufficient war material for our army was ready at the appointed places.

This second and last invasion of Canada differed in many respects from that of 1866. Then the raid was loudly advertised for months before it actually took place. This time everything was different. Secrecy (as it was supposed) covered every move and intention. Had not the Canadian authorities been fully advised, the results, under the circumstances, would have been undoubtedly serious. There was another important feature about this second raid, and that was its preparedness. Matters in connection with the first affair had been of a very happy-go-lucky character. Now the services of a number of ex-military men of undoubted ability had been secured, and war material for at least twelve thousand men was actually on the ground.

O’Neill’s ideas may be set forth in very few words. The chief object he had in view was to obtain possession of Canada, not as the permanent seat of an Irish republic, but as the only vulnerable point of attack—the base for operations against England. His theory was that the Fenians needed the ports and shipyards of the Dominion from which they could despatch privateers to prey upon English shipping. By the possession of territory he anticipated they could claim and obtain the rights of belligerents from the United States. In this event he held the promise of many men, eminent on the side of both North and South during the War of Rebellion, to enroll themselves under the Irish banner, and to command expeditions which it was fondly hoped and expected would wrest Ireland from the hands of the oppressor.

His plan was to get across the boundary line without delay, and then to intrench himself at a point where his small contingent would form the nucleus round which a large army and unlimited support would rally from the United States. Buffalo, Malone, and Franklin were the three points from which attacks were to be made. However, “the best laid schemes of mice and men gang aft aglee.” O’Neill expected 1000 men to meet him at Franklin on the night of Tuesday, April 25, 1870. The history of 1866 repeated itself. As was the case then, so now, only a quarter of the number presented themselves. By the following morning only 500 had mustered. Every hour’s delay added to the danger of failure and collapse; and so he feared to postpone the arrangements any longer. I viewed the situation with a good deal of equanimity, for on the previous night all my trusty messengers had departed, carrying full details as to the time, exact points of crossing, numbers, place of operations, &c., to the enemy’s lines.

At eleven o’clock on Wednesday, O’Neill left the Franklin Hotel to place himself at the head of the Fenian army, not without hope and confidence, yet struggling with the disappointing fact that one-half his men had not arrived. His chief anxiety appeared to be that the Canadians would not give him a chance to fight. He misapprehended the situation on this score, however, as subsequent events showed.

Hubbard’s Farm, the Fenian camp and rendezvous, was situated about half a mile from Franklin, and here all the available “invaders” were mustered. Arranging them in line, O’Neill addressed them as follows:—

“Soldiers, this is the advance-guard of the Irish-American army for the liberation of Ireland from the yoke of the oppressor. For your own country you enter that of the enemy. The eyes of your countrymen are upon you. Forward. March.”

And march they did, O’Neill, as he departed at their head, instructing me to bring to his support on their arrival a party of 400 men then _en route_ from St. Albans.

XVI.

Careless of consequences, I waited to see what would happen. As I stood on the brow of the hill where our company was situated, the scene was indeed worthy of my study. Ludicrous as were many of the elements which went to make it up, the charm of nature was superior to them all, and commanded my tribute of respect and admiration. Right below me was a pretty valley, down the very centre of which flowed a little creek marking the boundary of Canadian territory, and dividing by its narrow course the Canadian from American soil. A soft pleasant sward sloped gracefully down from where I stood to its bank, while on the other side there rose in graceful outlines the monarchs of a Canadian forest, overtopped by a rocky cliff standing out in bold and picturesque relief. The soft sweet breezes of the spring morning played upon our faces, while the brilliant sunlight sent its rays flashing upon our bayonets, and dancing on the waters underneath.

Nature was in her very best and sweetest mood, and yet little room for appreciation of her charms existed in the breasts of those who, sweeping down the valley’s side beneath me, were seeking, in their own foolish way, to make “Ireland a nation once again.” They were a funny crowd. All were armed, but few were uniformed. Here and there a Fenian coat, with its green and grey faced with gold, caught the eye, but only to stand out in contrast with the surrounding garments of more sombre hue and everyday appearance. The men marched with a certain amount of military precision, for all had received some degree of military training. At last they reached the little wooden bridge by which the water was crossed, and deploying as skirmishers in close order, they advanced with fixed bayonets, cheering wildly. Not a soul appeared in front. The dark Canadian trees hid from their view the ambushed Canadian volunteers; and, fixed in their belief that nothing was known of their coming, they advanced in a spirit of effervescent enthusiasm. But not very far, however.

A few paces, and on their startled ears came the ringing ping, ping, of the ambushed rifles, as the Canadians poured a deadly volley straight into their ranks. Utterly taken aback, they stopped, broke rank, and fled as in 1866, an ungovernable mob, to return for a moment in order to pour a volley on their almost invisible enemy, and to finally retreat up the hill to where I stood, still under the fire of their adversaries, leaving their dead to be subsequently buried by the Canadians.

On the slope of the hill was a large structure known as Richard’s Farm, to which the invaders retreated and continued their firing, ineffective as it was.

Seeing that all was over here, for a time at least, I hurried off to the point where the St. Albans contingent had by now arrived, and were arming. The process took some time, and while engaged in superintending it, I was afforded practical evidence of the termination of O’Neill’s part in the fight. Standing in the middle of the public road where the men were forming into line—it was now half-past one, the “battle” which I have just described having taken place about 11.30—I was startled by the cry, “Clear the road, clear the road!” and almost knocked down by a furiously driven team of horses, to which was attached a covered carriage. As the conveyance flashed by me, I caught through the carriage window a hurried glimpse of the dejected face of O’Neill, who was seated between two men. I understood the situation in a moment, but said nothing. To have given the command to shoot the horses as they turned an adjacent corner would have been the work of an instant, but it was no part of my purpose to restore O’Neill to his command. I learned subsequently that O’Neill was in the custody of the United States marshal, General Foster, who, acting with that precision so peculiar to General Grant’s administration, when contrasted with that of Andrew Johnson’s, had, in consequence of the information furnished, arrived on the scene of the battle immediately after I left, and arrested O’Neill for a breach of the Neutrality Laws. O’Neill, who was in the company of his comrades, had at first refused submission, and threatened force, but on General Foster placing a revolver at his head, he gave in.

When the news of O’Neill’s arrest reached us later on in the afternoon, a council of war was held, presided over by John Boyle O’Reilly, of whom I have already spoken, the council being held in a meadow, where we all stood in a circle. Contingents were hourly arriving, and a strong attempt was made to get Boyle O’Reilly to take command, and lead the attack at some other point, but in the end nothing was done.

Next morning, General Spear, the Secretary of War of the Fenian Brotherhood, arrived at St. Albans, and sought to do something practical in the way of continuing the invasion. Through his _aide-de-camp_, Colonel Brown, and subsequently in person, he appealed to me to supply him with 400 or 500 stands of arms and ammunition within twenty-four hours. Of course, it would never have done for me to have allowed further operations, and so I pleaded it was impossible under the condition of affairs then developed. Thousands of Canadian troops had arrived on the border, and the arms being located in places difficult to get at, they were out of reach for the moment. Luckily for me, the appearance of United States troops in the vicinity put any further attempt at war operations out of the question, for in order to avoid arrest for breach of the Neutrality Laws, the Fenians had to disappear with alacrity. I left this point with the rest of them, and hurrying to Malone, another of the places where rendezvous had been arranged, I found a similar state of things prevailing here, although the arrest of O’Neill, and the unexpected appearance of the United States troops, filled the invaders with dismay, and utter demoralisation was the result.

XVII.

On Friday, April 27th, under the excuse that I was going to Burlington to see about O’Neill, I went round by way of Rouses Point to Montreal. I was elated with my success, and wanted to report myself at head-quarters without delay. It would not, however, have been safe for me to have gone direct to Ottawa, and so I travelled in a roundabout way. On the Friday night I stopped with Judge Coursel, the Commissioner of the Quebec police, and the following morning took train to Ottawa. Before my journey concluded, I found I had been altogether too premature in my self-congratulations. In fact, that journey brought me even closer to discovery than I had ever been before.

Nothing unusual happened till we got to Cornwall, where there was the usual half-hour’s delay for dinner. Taking full advantage of it, I was enjoying a hearty meal, when both my meal and peace of mind were disturbed by an unlooked-for incident. Struck by an unusual commotion at the door of the dining-room, I looked round to find advancing towards me two men, one remarkable for his tall military appearance, and the other for his clerical attire. All eyes were turned upon them, and as I ceased eating for the moment to look up, I heard the clerical-looking person say, as he pointed his finger towards me, “That is the man.” Advancing, the tall man, who subsequently turned out to be the mayor of Cornwall, speaking with a Scotch accent, said, “You are my prisoner,” accompanying the words with a grasp of my shoulder. I imagined there was some mistake, and laughed as I turned to resume my dinner, asking at the same time what was the matter. Not a movement, however, disturbed the solidity of my Scotch friend’s face as he solemnly repeated the words, “You are my prisoner,” adding, “you must come with me at once.”

As I learned subsequently, the priestly looking person was a wandering preacher, who had happened to be in the vicinity of Malone when I was locating arms there, and I had been pointed out to him then as the leading Fenian agent. His memory was a very good one, and he immediately recognised me when we met again.

Matters were beginning to look serious; but still I could not comprehend what all this meant, and being still hungry I said, “But won’t you let me finish my dinner?” “No,” was the sharp reply; “come.” “For what reason?” quoth I, indignantly. “Why am I arrested?” “You are a Fenian,” came the reply, the words falling clearly and distinctly on the hushed room, where those present began to show signs of anger and indignation towards me. I hurried out with my captors, and was taken to a room adjoining the ticket-office, there to have demanded of me my luggage and my keys, with everything on my person. I had no luggage save a hand-bag, yet I had with me documents which would reveal everything, if made public. My position was dangerous—distinctly dangerous. The prospect before me was that of disclosure and imprisonment amongst a strange people, where I had no friend. Prompt action was called for, and so I asked the mayor for a few minutes’ private conversation. Suspicious, and yet curious, he brought me into the ticket-office, where we were left alone. Here I told him the exact situation. It was true, I said, that I was a Fenian, but also a Government agent. I was even then on my way to Ottawa to see Judge M‘Micken. To delay or expose me would mean serious difficulty for the Government. Let him send me on to Ottawa under guard, if he liked, and then he would prove my statements true. Did he want immediate proof, then here were my papers, and there a telegram to Judge M‘Micken, advising him of my coming, which he himself would despatch.

My manner must have impressed him, for he decided to adopt my suggestion, and send me on by the same train in which I had been travelling (which had not yet gone, all this occupying but a few minutes), under the escort of a lieutenant who, with his Canadian regiment, was then returning from the scene of the invasion. The details of my arrest as a Fenian quickly spread amongst my fellow-passengers, and travelled before me on the route, and the reception I met with along my journey was most disagreeable. For safety’s sake, the lieutenant transferred me to the care of a sergeant and couple of soldiers, and the carriage in which we travelled was the sole point of attraction in the train. Crowding round this carriage, the infuriated Canadians would hiss and hoot me, while their cries of “Hang him,” “Lynch him,” gave me a very uncomfortable idea of what would happen to me if left alone amongst them. So careful were my guardians of me, that they would not even allow me to have the window raised, so that I might smoke, fearing that in some way I might take advantage of the open window to escape. This was really a serious grievance with me, for they could not possibly have inflicted a greater deprivation than that in the matter of smoking. All through my life, even down to the present time, I have been a great smoker, sometimes consuming as many as sixteen cigars in the day, a statement which will probably puzzle some people who hold that tobacco ruins the nerves.

On reaching Prescott Junction, I found that the news of my capture—of course my name and rank never transpired—had created such a sensation that a special correspondent of the _Toronto Globe_ had travelled to meet me, in order to find out who and what I was, and everything about me. He was doomed to be disappointed, however, for I could not be got to speak. When, eventually, we arrived at Ottawa, I found my telegram to Judge M‘Micken had brought his representative to the station, and by him, myself and my guards were immediately conveyed to the police-office, where the Commissioner was awaiting us. Pretty certain of my safety now, I was quite prepared to smile, and really did laugh when brought into the presence of my friend the judge. Not so he, however. With proverbial soberness and solemnity he heard the details of my capture, received possession of my person, and gave a formal receipt for my custody. Armed with this, my guardians left, and then the old man’s genial kindly nature asserted itself. By his instructions I remained in his office till nightfall, when, in a cab under cover of the darkness, I accompanied him to the club to take up my quarters there for the night.

In the club the Fenian prisoner of a few hours previously was made a most welcome guest, and had an exceedingly good time. My identity being known to some of the officers who crowded the club-house after their return from Franklin, I found myself quite the hero of the hour, and had most interesting chats over the experiences of the raid on both sides of the fight. Amongst the pleasant people whose acquaintance I then made was Dr. Grant, the physician to Prince Arthur, who was in Ottawa at that time.

With the following day came arrangements for my departure for home, and it was decided that, in order to avoid travelling over the same line again, I should be driven during the night to Ann Prior terminus—a distance of some forty miles from Ottawa—from which place I could take a branch line to my destination. Fortunate though I thought myself, my troubles were not at an end. This trip of mine to Ottawa was a chapter of misfortunes. As I was on the point of starting, I discovered that I had not sufficient money to bring me home. Accordingly, Judge M‘Micken had to supply me with the needful funds. This, however, did not prove by any means an easy thing to do. A cheque was duly drawn, but of course I could not cash it, and the judge had to have recourse to a friend. The amount was a large one—three hundred and fifty dollars—and it was beyond the resources of the club at the moment. The services of the club porter therefore had to be utilised for the purpose of obtaining the money. Here, unknown to us, seed was being sown which was to bear evil fruit. The porter knew, of course, that I was the Fenian prisoner, although nothing more; and, gossip that he was, he let out the secret a little later. It became public property; and the Canadian press published the fact that an important Fenian had been in Ottawa immediately after the raid, and received a very large sum of money from the Government official with whom he was in communication, adding that the Fenians must have been nicely duped all through. This was bringing danger very, very near to me again; yet, marvellous to relate, suspicion never rested upon me in connection with the paragraph. I drove from Ottawa in the night, got safely home, and was never troubled further by my eventful visit. But, for a long time, I treasured very unchristian-like feelings towards that porter.

XVIII.

With the fiasco at Pigeon Hill, and the equally inglorious termination of the musters at other points of the Canadian border, there died out altogether the idea of attacking and seizing any portion of Canada. O’Neill, after some confinement, was brought to trial, and sentenced to six months’ imprisonment, and the Fenian organisation literally went to pieces for the time. I had no thought of its ever reviving again, and so turned my attention once more to my medical work, which I had had to completely neglect from the time of my leaving Joliet and attaching myself to O’Neill’s staff.

I had scarcely resumed my studies, however, when a visit from O’Neill on his release showed me that there was still some fight left in himself and his comrades. He came to me as a matter of fact to enlist my co-operation in some work of a distinctly active character. In explanation of the position of affairs, he laid before me the originals of several letters to him from the Rev. W. B. O’Donohoe, a young priest of Manitoba, who was at the time acting as secretary for the notorious Riel. The correspondence gave all the details of a contemplated uprising of the half-breeds in the North-West against the Dominion authorities, and stated, to my amazement and disgust, that he—this young priest—had received permission from his Archbishop—Tasché—to throw off his ecclesiastical garments and take a part therein.

In conclusion, O’Neill’s assistance and co-operation in the attempt was sought, and as he put it, “anything to cripple the enemy” being his motto, he was only too eager for the fray. He had one great difficulty, however, and that was the want of arms. Knowing that a quantity remained in hiding since the second raid, he had sought to obtain possession of them, but had been referred to me as the person who had deposited them with their present custodians, and without whose permission they could not be given up. I cheerfully agreed to let him have 400 breech-loaders and ammunition, and accompanied him to the points where they were, for the purpose of their delivery, but not before I had surreptitiously obtained the use of the documents, and sent copies to both the Home and Canadian Governments with full information as to what was _sur le tapis_.

O’Neill, in company with a trusted confederate, J. J. Donnelly, fitted out his expedition, and on the 5th day of October 1871, after crossing the line at Fort Pembina, was arrested with his party, and all his war material seized, in consequence of the information supplied by me. Riel, thus deprived of the expected assistance, surrendered at Fort Garry to Lord Wolseley without firing a shot. O’Neill and his party having been turned over to the United States authorities, were, four days afterwards, tried and acquitted. Strange as it appears, these men, captured on Canadian soil, were, by some egregious blunder, handed over to the United States authorities, and by them acquitted on the ludicrous technicality that the offence was not committed on American, but Canadian soil.

Subsequently O’Neill came back to me and made my life a burthen. Discredited and disheartened, he took to drink and went entirely to the dogs, bringing to the verge of starvation an affectionate but heart-broken wife, who, once a sister of mercy, had nursed and grown to love him in a hospital where he was confined, and, disregarding all her vows, had in the end married him. Drifting slowly downward through disgrace and drink, O’Neill, the once brilliant, if egotistical, Irishman met a lone and miserable death.

XIX.

On resuming my studies, I decided to enter the Detroit College of Medicine, and so, taking my family with me, I settled down there. There were many reasons for my change of residence, not the least important of which was that connected with the unpopularity which I found attached to me in my old home after my return from the Canadian affair. O’Neill had many opponents, and by these opponents I was attacked in company with O’Neill, and the others engaged in the affair, for having ruined the organisation by the premature “invasion” which had taken place. Therefore, I thought it better to remove to another quarter where this state of feeling did not exist, and where my Irish record would be of service to me in the future. As far as Detroit was concerned, I fixed upon it because of the desire of Judge M‘Micken that I should become acquainted with, and obtain as much information as I could about, Mackay Lomasney—whose name will be familiar in connection with the London Bridge explosion—and others just settled down there.

Lomasney was, in the eyes of the authorities, an important man; and his subsequent career, terminating with the attempt to blow up London Bridge, in which he lost his own life, fully justified their estimate. He had been engaged in the ’65 and ’67 movements in Ireland, had been charged with the murder of a policeman and acquitted, but sentenced to twelve years’ penal servitude for his work as a rebel, and, with others whose names will appear later, had been amnestied in the year 1870. He had now settled down in Detroit as the proprietor of a book-store; and as he was known to be a most active revolutionist, much curiosity was felt as to what he was actually doing. I formed a very pleasant acquaintance with Mackay Lomasney, and found him a most entertaining man. The future dynamitard was at this time about twenty-eight years of age. Though of youthful appearance, his face was a most determined one, and the way in which it lent itself to disguise truly marvellous. When covered with the dark bushy hair, of which he had a profusion, it was one face; when clean-shaven, quite another, and impossible of recognition. Acting, as he constantly did, as the delegate from the American section to the Fenians at home, this faculty of disguise proved of enormous service, and may very well have had disastrous effects on police vigilance. I have seen Lomasney both shaved, on his return from Ireland, and unshaved, in his American life; and in all the men I have ever met, I never saw such a change produced by so easy a process. I may dismiss Mackay Lomasney from this point of my story by saying that, beyond his activity in connection with the establishment of the Irish Confederation, his movements gave little ground for apprehension, and, as far as the Confederation was concerned, its development proved of very little account.

But, if the Confederation was to accomplish little, the men who with Lomasney took part in its initiation were not without their claims to attention. Foremost amongst them were two bearing names destined to be familiar in latter-day politics. These were O’Donovan Rossa and John Devoy. As both will be found constantly strutting across the stage of Irish-American affairs from this date, I will pause here to refer to them in some little detail.

Jeremiah O’Donovan—the “Rossa” was, he claims, added in early years as the outward and visible sign of the alleged fact of his being directly descended from the Princes of Rossa—was, at the time of his arrival, one of the most popular men amongst the Irish in the United States. Sentenced to imprisonment for life for taking part in the ’65 movement, he had, according to general rumour, undergone the severest of sufferings and indignities in the British dungeons. A strong current of sympathy set in in his favour in consequence, and as both in public and private he lost no opportunity of dilating upon his grievance, the sentiment was in no sense allowed to waver or grow weak. The man whose name was to be so closely associated with dynamite and devilry in later years, did not at this time suggest by his appearance the possession of any undue ferocity. His face, though determined, was yet not without its kindly aspect, while his love for the bottle betrayed a jovial rather than a fiendish instinct. His fierceness, indeed, lay altogether in speech. Voluble and sweeping in his language, he was never so happy as when pouring out the vials of his wrath on the British Government.

Devoy, the notorious author of the “New Departure,” was at once seen to be a man of weighty influence. Forbidding of aspect, with a perpetual scowl upon his face, he immediately conveyed the idea of being a quarrelsome man, an idea sustained and strengthened by both his manner of speech and gruffness of voice. Experience of Devoy’s character only went to prove the correctness of this view. Quarrelsome and discontented, ambitious and unscrupulous, his friendships were few and far between; and had it not been for his undoubted ability, and the existence of those necessities which link adventurers together, he could never have reached the prominent place which he subsequently attained in the Fenian organisation.

With their fellow-prisoners who had been amnestied, General Thomas F. Bourke, Thomas Clarke Luby, Edmond Power, and Henry S. Meledy, together with James J. O’Kelly, late M.P. for Roscommon, but then a struggling reporter on a New York paper, Rossa and Devoy brought the Irish Confederation into existence, and formed its first “directory” or executive. They indulged in the wild hope of being able to gather in all the scattered Irish under one banner, and to put an end once and for all to the dissensions and divisions which had so disastrously affected Irish affairs in the past. They were disappointed. Not by their unaided efforts was this to be accomplished. Indeed, the Confederation was never popular. It was regarded as a sort of close corporation “run,” as we say in the United States, in the interest of the exiles, and, as a consequence, was jealously viewed by the rank and file. Every effort that could be made to bring about a fusion was tried by these men, but without success. Even Stephens himself was brought over from France and put at the head of affairs; but his name had lost its charm, and he had to return to Paris a discredited man.

XX.

While my Fenian friends struggled on in this way, I looked after my own affairs. Completing my studies and business in Detroit, I moved myself and my family to Wilmington, where I settled down to make a home and secure an income. I was now a fully fledged M.D., and so I immediately commenced practising at Braidwood, a suburb of Wilmington. Success attended my start, my Irish connection and record bringing me an amount of patronage almost beyond my powers of attention. I had given up all idea of anything definite happening in the way of Fenian affairs, and turned my attention to local politics. Here, of course, my Irish friends were again of use. Failing to obtain a seat on the School Board, for which I had been nominated, I succeeded in getting an appointment on the Board of Health. The office was really a sinecure, with one hundred dollars a year attached. Not content with it, I gained the much more lucrative appointment of Supervisor of Braidwood, attached to which was a daily fee of 2½ dollars, and travelling allowances when engaged on town business. Anybody acquainted with the American political system, even to a moderate extent, will know how paying such offices can be made.

Meantime I had joined the Medical Society of my State, and assisted in founding the State Pharmaceutical Society. My activity did not even stop here, and, in addition, I took a very active part in bringing about much-needed legislation on the question of the practice of medicine. In these days there was no such thing as a State law regulating the practice of medicine or pharmacy, and I—let me frankly confess it—as much for the sake of popularity as anything else, spared no pains, even going to the extent of “lobbying” in Springfield, the State capital, in the interest of legislation on these matters, in which I was very successful.

Little as I imagined it then, events were at this time shaping themselves to an end which, frequently attempted, had never yet been wholly accomplished by the aspiring leaders of the Irish in America. This was the bringing together of all Irishmen at home and abroad into one vast and perfect organisation. The hour was coming, and with it the men. Born in comparative poverty and insignificance, but under an impressive name, the association now being formed, the great Clan-na-Gael of the future, was destined to be a powerful, rich, and far-reaching organisation, healthy of limb and strong of hand, fated to leave its heavy mark upon the pages of this half-century’s history. From small beginnings have come great results.

Away back towards the end of the sixties, there came into existence one of those temporal societies, an off-shoot of the permanent conspiracy known under the name “Knights of the Inner Circle,” which was joined by many Irish conspirators, myself amongst the number. With its members there became associated, in the latter end of 1869, some three hundred members of the “Brian Boru” Circle of the Fenian Brotherhood in New York City, who, in consequence of a political quarrel over electioneering matters, seceded from their original body; and by these men, acting in concert with others under the name of the “United Irishmen,” what were really the first camps of the Clan-na-Gael were established.

The V.C. (the cypher was arranged on the plan of using the alphabetical letters immediately following those intended to be indicated) had for its object the same intention which governed the inception and development of all Irish conspiracy in America—the freedom of Ireland from English control by armed force. It was, however, to differ from its predecessors insomuch as, unlike them, it was to be of an essentially secret character. P. R. Walsh of Cleveland, Ohio, known as “the Father of the Clan,” was the apostle of this new condition of things, and he, with others of shrewd and far-seeing minds, argued with great success, that if one lesson more important than another was to be learnt from the past history and miserable fiascos of the movement, it was that no possible success could be achieved with a revolutionary organisation working in the open day. The Irish people, reasoned these priests of the new faith, had not judgment enough to manage their schemes for freedom. They revealed their secrets to the heads of their Church; they were dictated to by these heads; they feared to obey their non-clerical leaders; and so were thwarted the best schemes of the most active workers. A revolutionary movement must be secret and unscrupulous, and, to be successful, they could not enter on the contest for freedom with the yoke of the Church around their neck.

Language like this reads strangely indeed in the light of latter-day revelations, and the knowledge the world now has of Clan-na-Gael priests and their work. But at the time it was not without its appropriateness and significance. The priests at the period of which I write were, neither in Ireland nor America, the priests of these subsequent years. Then, as in those days of old, when religion was paramount and priestly control salutary and effective, the ban of the Church was not merely a phrase dangerous in sound, it was a living dread reality, fearful in its consequences in the eyes of those who in their lives worked out that grand old characteristic of the Irish people, faith in their Church and reverence toward its rulers. It was reserved for the coming years to bring to the view of a startled public a people reckless and defiant of priestly control, because of the teachings of their atheistic and communistic leaders, and the self-surrender of all their higher and priestly functions by those who were content to be led by, rather than to lead those whose consciences were their charge and their responsibility.

XXI.

The arguments were well put, and what was more, they were well timed. They proved successful. Everything appeared in favour of the new move; and the re-establishment of the Fenian organisation in Great Britain on a more compact secret basis, under the title of the _Irish Republican Brotherhood_, was one of the many satisfactory features of the moment. Matters, however, moved slowly; and, although actually established in 1869, it was not until the year 1873 that the movement became in any way general. Then it was that, merging almost all other societies in itself, the Clan, now known as the V.C. or United Brotherhood, established subordinate bodies or “Camps,” as they were called, almost simultaneously in all the leading centres of the United States. Secrecy was the text preached in every direction. Every member was bound by the most solemn of oaths to keep secret all knowledge of the order and its proceedings which might come to him, under penalty of death. A Masonic form of ritual was adopted; grips, passwords, signs, and terrorising penalties were decided upon; and all the pomp and circumstance of mystery, so dear to the Irish heart and so effective in such a conspiracy, were called to the aid of those who now inculcated this new doctrine.

Undoubtedly, there was no secret made amongst its members as to the treasonable character of the organisation. The official printed Constitution set forth the truth of the matter in no uncertain way. “The object,” it stated, “is to aid the Irish people in the attainment of the complete and absolute independence of Ireland, by the overthrow of English domination: a total separation from that country, and the complete severance of all political connection with it; the establishment of an independent republic on Irish soil, chosen by the free votes of the whole Irish people, without distinction of creed or class, and the restoration to all Irishmen of every creed and class of their natural privileges of citizenship and equal rights. It shall prepare unceasingly for an armed insurrection in Ireland.”

The Ritual and forms of initiation were framed entirely upon Masonic precedent; and, to the vast majority of the members of the Clan, the statement will come no doubt as a great surprise that the much vaunted secret forms of the Masonic order need be secret to them no longer, inasmuch as that, when being admitted to a Clan-na-Gael club, they were going through the same forms and ceremonies as attached themselves to that great source of mystery and wonderment in the eyes of the non-elect, the Masonic Brotherhood. I have often laughed to myself at the surprise shown by some Masons on the occasion of their initiation to Clan-na-Gael clubs—for there are Masons in the Clan—at being brought once more into contact with the familiar procedure. One great feature of similarity exists between the two ceremonies. In both the candidate is impressed with a deep sense of awe and respect, to learn subsequently that nothing very mysterious or wonderful is to come within his knowledge. Though the effect is the same, however, the causes are very different. In one case, that of the Mason, nothing very strange happens or is committed to his secrecy, for the simple reason that the practice of brotherly love and charity requires no unusual strain either on his powers of wonder or reserve; while in the other the poor confiding Irishman is simply intended to play the part of a dupe, to move and subscribe to order, but to be trusted in no single regard, until by jobbery or manipulation he works his way to the higher ranks of the organisation.

The candidates for membership were balloted for in the usual club manner, three black balls excluding. The successful ones having answered different queries regarding their age, belief in God, &c. &c., were, after being blindfolded and shut out from view of their future associates, brought forward and addressed by the Vice-President of the meeting as follows:—

“MY FRIENDS,—Animated by love, duty, and patriotism, you have
sought affiliation with us. We have deemed you worthy of our
confidence and our friendship. You are now within these secret
walls. The men who surround you have all taken the obligations of
our Order, and are endeavouring to fulfil its duties. These duties
must be cheerfully complied with, or not at all undertaken. We are
Jsjtinfo (Irishmen) banded together for the purpose of freeing
Jsfmboe (Ireland) and elevating the position of the Jsjti (Irish)
race. The lamp of the bitter past plainly points our path, and we
believe that the first step on the road to freedom is secrecy.
Destitute of secrecy, defeat will again cloud our brightest hopes;
and, believing this, we shall hesitate at no sacrifice to maintain
it. Be prepared, then, to cast aside with us every thought that may
impede the growth of this holy feeling among Jsjtinfo (Irishmen);
for, once a member of this Order, you must stand by its watchwords
of Secrecy, Obedience, and Love. With this explanation, I ask you
are you willing to proceed?”

The answer being satisfactory, the candidates were next placed opposite the President, and addressed by him as follows:—

“MY FRIENDS,—By your own voluntary act you are now before
us. You have learned the nature of the cause in which we are
engaged—a cause honourable to our manhood, and imposed upon us
by every consideration of duty and patriotism. We would not have
an unwilling member amongst us, and we give you, even now, the
opportunity of withdrawing, if you so desire. Every man here has
taken a solemn and binding oath to be faithful to the trust we
repose in him. This oath, I assure you, is one which does not
conflict with any duty which you owe to God, to your country,
your neighbours, or yourself. It must be taken before you can be
admitted to light and fellowship in our Order. With this assurance,
and understanding, as you do, that the object of this organisation
is the freedom of Jsfmboe (Ireland), will you submit yourself to
our rules and regulations and take our obligation without mental
reservation?”

At the conclusion of the address, the questions having been put, and correctly replied to, the candidate took the oath as follows:—

“I, ————, do solemnly and sincerely swear, in the presence
of Almighty God, that I will labour, while life is left me,
to establish and defend a republican form of government in
Jsfmboe (Ireland). That I will never reveal the secrets of this
organisation to any person or persons not entitled to know them.
That I will obey and comply with the Constitution and laws of the
V.C., and promptly and faithfully execute all constitutional orders
coming to me from the proper authority, to the best of my ability.
That I will foster a spirit of unity, nationality, and brotherly
love among the people of Jsfmboe (Ireland).

“I furthermore swear that I do not now belong to any other Jsjti
sfwpmvujpobsz (Irish revolutionary) society antagonistic to this
organisation, and that I will not become a member of such society
while connected with the V.C., and, finally, I swear that I take
this obligation without mental reservation, and that any violation
hereof is infamous and merits the severest punishment. So help me
God.” (Kiss the book.)

And then, in conclusion, the President made the following remarks:—

“The name of this Order is the V.C. Its local sub-divisions are
styled D.’s, and are known by members. This is D. No. —. The
leading object of the V.C. is to co-operate with the J.S.C. (Irish
Republican Brotherhood) in securing the independence of Jsfmboe
(Ireland), and the special object is to secure the union of all
Jsjti Obujpobmjtut (Irish Nationalists). As it is essential for
the safe and efficient working of our organisation to preserve the
strictest secrecy in reference to it, you will never mention the
name of the V.C., or anything connected therewith, to any one whom
you do not know to be a member thereof in good standing. And that
we may be more effectually guarded from exposure, as well as to
secure concentration of effort, you are prohibited by the supreme
authority from contributing money to, or otherwise aiding, any
other Jsjti sfwpmvujpobsz (Irish revolutionary) society.

“Should you desire to secure some worthy person for membership,
you will first have him proposed here, and, if elected, you may
then indirectly and carefully ascertain his sentiments on the
subject of secret Jsjti Obujpobm (Irish National) organisations,
and, should his views be favourable, you might then intimate that
you believe there is a secret organisation in existence working for
Jsjti (Irish) liberty; and, if he appears inclined to join it, you
may admit that you are a member of it, or acquainted with a member
of it, and that you think you can secure his admission therein; but
no further information must you convey, nor use the name of any
person connected with the Order....

“Finally, my brother, be careful that you do not make an improper
use of these instructions, and let not the cause of Jsfmboe
(Ireland) or the interests of the V.C. suffer through any want of
prudence, perseverance, and courage on your part while travelling
onwards on the path to freedom. (Two raps.)

“Brothers! It affords me great pleasure to introduce to you your
new brother.” (One rap.)

XXII.

Up to the year 1881, when the administration of the conspiracy underwent a change, with which I will deal at its proper time, the Clan-na-Gael was governed by an executive body (known in the cypher as F.C.), presided over by a Chairman elected by the body at the annual conventions, and a Revolutionary Directory known without any regard to the cypher by its initial letters R.D. This Revolutionary Directory was composed of seven men, three of whom were nominated by the Executive, three by the Irish Republican Brotherhood (known as the J.S.C.) in Ireland, and a seventh selected by the six when appointed. The Revolutionary Directory was, as its name implies, a body dealing directly with revolutionary matters, and it was chiefly characterised by the autocratic power possessed by its members, about whose action no detailed information was supplied, and against whose proceedings there was, in consequence, no basis for appeal. The names of all these officers were known only to the delegates who elected them, and to the Presiding Officer of each camp, known as Senior Guardian.

To the Executive (or F.C.) was intrusted, amongst other things, the arrangements regarding the places and dates for holding the biennial and annual conventions of the order; and their decision in this respect was carefully guarded, and only at the very last moment communicated to the high officials, in order to prevent any spies or agents of the British Government from becoming acquainted with their proceedings. The head of each subordinate body was informed a week in advance of the date and place of the convention; and he was instructed to arrange for the immediate election of a delegate from his camp. So close was the secret kept, that the delegate, if other than the presiding officer, did not know till the very hour of his starting where he was bound for. Like convicts, the members were known by numbers, never by names. Camps (known as D.’s) were also numbered; and, in order the better to cover their doings from the outside world, each camp had a public name by which it was known. For instance, my own camp was known as the “Emmet Literary Association.”

During the early years of its existence I was not a member of the Clan-na-Gael. Although, as I have stated, I was one of the “Knights of the Inner Circle,” I did not take any prominent part in the early days, when the V.C. succeeded, or rather absorbed it. There were reasons for my not doing so. My prominence and action in the ill-fated Canadian raid had not been altogether forgotten, and I was still held responsible, in certain minds, for the premature undertaking of it. Another reason affecting my action was the difficulty introduced by a clause in the new constitution in regard to the question of nationality. This clause read as follows:—