If there is one name in Ireland that is more cordially detested than another it is that of Thomas Beach, the spy, who is better known by his adopted name of Major Henri Le Caron. The story of how he came to assume that cognomen, and the manner in which he served the government of Great Britain as against his supposed co-patriots furnishes one of the most interesting chapters in the Secret Service of England, if not of the world.
Beach defends his work on the ground that when he was first brought into contact with Fenianism he had no ulterior motive in mind and that no material consideration prompted him to work against the men who hoped to bring about the freedom of Ireland by the spectacular invasion of Canada. He says that he was forced by a variety of circumstances to play a part he had never sought, but he insists that he did nothing to be ashamed of and has never felt any regret for the manner in which he served England. He says that there is no truth in the popular belief which credited him with receiving fabulous payments and frequent rewards. He admits that there was ever-present danger and constantly recurring difficulties, but very scant recompense from the Government for which he risked so much.
Beach was born in England, but came to the United States just about the time of the beginning of the Civil War and enlisted in the Union Army—in the 8th Pennsylvanian Reserves. But in enlisting he took on himself a new name and a new nationality. One reason he gives for this was his desire to avoid giving his parents anxiety. Also he thought it would be “a good joke.” Be that as it may, he was put down on the books of his company as Henri Le Caron and his home as France. He served through the greater part of the war, and after it was over became connected with the Grand Army of the Republic, holding among other positions those of Vice Commander and Post Surgeon, with the rank of major.
So from that time until the end of the chapter he was known as Major Le Caron, and he says that this afforded him an effective disguise through which he was enabled to keep the English authorities informed of the Irish movements on this side of the Atlantic.
It was through an Irishman named O’Neill that Le Caron became connected with the Fenian movement. He wrote home at intervals and he says that the information which was thus informally given to his family was by them taken to the Home Secretary in London, and in the course of time Le Caron became a regularly paid spy in the Secret Service. The consequences of this was that the proposed invasion of Canada was well known to the English and Canadian officials long before it occurred. The first invasion, with which Le Caron does not seem to have been personally connected occurred on the morning of June 1, 1866. For six months before that time active preparations were in progress. During the spring of the year many companies of soldiers, armed and uniformed, were being drilled in a number of cities in the United States. Thousands of stands of arms and millions of rounds of ammunition had been purchased and located at different points along the Canadian border.
The relations between the United States and England were not very cordial at that time because of the attitude of England during the Civil War, and as a consequence the proposed invasion, if it was not encouraged, was not greatly discouraged in this country. The attempt, however, proved a failure. The Fenians were defeated and driven out of Canada. Sixty of them were killed and more than two hundred taken prisoners. It was the natural result that is to be looked for when a volunteer force goes against a well trained army. Under the command of General John O’Neill 800 Irish patriots were towed across the Niagara River to a point on the Canadian side called Waterloo. At four o’clock in the morning the Irish flag was planted on British soil by Colonel Owen Starr, and from thence the patriots marched to and captured Fort Erie, containing a detachment of the Welland Battery.
The effect of the news of this first victory was electrical in the United States. Thousands who had hesitated about joining the movement were now willing and anxious to enlist. The Canadian Government, and Le Caron in his official reports to London endeavored to belittle this initial triumph, but they felt very much chagrined just the same. However, the Irish victory was short-lived. As soon as the news of the capture of Fort Erie spread to Toronto, the 22nd Battalion of Volunteers of that city hastened to the rescue, and at Ridgeway a bloody battle occurred between the opposing forces. The invaders were driven back to Fort Erie and later were taken as prisoners by the United States battleship Michigan.
The news of the temporary victory had a wonderful effect in the United States. By the 7th of June not less than 30,000 men had assembled in and around Buffalo, prepared to fight if it was deemed desirable. But the defeat of the detachment that had actually entered Canada, and the issuance of a neutrality proclamation by President Andrew Johnson ended the war for the time being. The prisoners were released on their own recognizance and sent home by the United States authorities. The arms seized by the American Government were returned to the Fenian organization, and if Dame Rumor is not a falsifier, were used for a second invasion of Canada four years later.
In 1869 Le Caron was so intimate with his Fenian friends that he was made an inspector general of the Irish Republican Army. After that he was assistant adjutant general with the rank of colonel, and his new position enabled him not only to become possessed of the originals of many important documents and plans of proposed campaigns, but also specimens of the Fenian army commissions which he promptly conveyed to the officials of the Canadian Government. In this work he was assisted by a number of officials from Canada. Speaking of this, he says:
“Successful as I was in avoiding detection through all this work, those assisting me in my secret service capacity were not always destined to share in my good luck. This has been particularly the case on one occasion. I was at the time shipping arms at Malone, N. Y., and attended on behalf of the Canadian Government by one of the staff men placed at my disposal for the purpose of immediate communication and the transit of any documents requiring secrecy and dispatch as well as for personal protection should such prove necessary. This man, John C. Rose, was one of the most faithful and trusted servants of the Canadian administration, and for months he followed me along the whole border.
“Though stopping at the same hotels and in constant communication with me, no suspicion was aroused until his identity was accidentally disclosed by a visitor from the seat of government to one of the Fenians located at Malone. Men were immediately set to watch him without my knowledge, and the fact of his being found always in my wake on my visits to and from several towns led to the belief that he was spying upon my actions. A few nights after this poor Rose on his return from sending a dispatch from the postoffice, was waylaid, robbed and brutally beaten, and subsequently brought back to the hotel in as sorry a plight as I ever saw.”
In the meantime, in the winter of 1869, the Fenian Senate announced the completion of the arrangements for the invasion of Canada, and early in February the following year circulars were sent out to the military officers of the Fenian Brotherhood, instructing them to prepare for the proposed campaign. Those Brothers whose business or family duties prevented them from getting their commands in readiness for active and immediate service were requested to forward their resignations at once and at the same time send on the names of persons suitable to take their places. They were told to ascertain and report how many of their own men could furnish their own transportation, and in the meantime to try and persuade all of them to save enough for that purpose.
On Saturday, April 22, 1870, General O’Neill and Le Caron left Buffalo for St. Albans, the general being filled with enthusiasm over the belief that the Canadians would be taken entirely by surprise, and Le Caron laughing in his sleeve at the thought of how his companion would be fooled. O’Neill’s plan was to get across the boundary line without delay and then to entrench himself at a point where his soldiers would form the nucleus around 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. O’Neill expected 1,000 men to meet him at Franklin, on the night of April 25, 1870. Only a quarter of that number presented themselves, and by the following morning not more than 500 had mustered. Every hour’s delay added to the danger of failure and collapse. All this time Le Caron was busy sending messages across the border carrying full details as to the time the Fenians would leave Franklin, the exact points at which they would cross the border, their numbers, and the places of their contemplated operation.
On April 26 O’Neill left the Franklin Hotel to place himself at the head of the Fenian Army. Hubbard’s Farm, the Fenian camp and rendezvous, was about half a mile from Franklin, and here all of the available soldiers had been mustered. Arranging them in line, O’Neill, according to Le Caron’s narrative, 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 the sake of your own country you enter that of the enemy. The eyes of your countrymen are upon you. Forward, march!”
Following this harangue they started off on their expedition with O’Neill at their head. Before leaving, O’Neill instructed Le Caron to bring to his support on their arrival a party of 400 men who were coming from St. Albans. The men marched with a certain amount of military precision for all of them had received some degree of military training. There is no doubt of the patriotic feelings that filled their hearts. In spite of the lack of uniformity, and possibly because of it, the scene was picturesque. Here and there a Fenian coat with its green and gray faced with gold sparkled in contrast with the civilian clothing and the more somber garb of the others.
Finally the volunteers reached a little wooden bridge and deployed as skirmishers in close order, advancing with fixed bayonets and cheering wildly. Not a soldier appeared to dispute their way, but the dark Canadian trees hid from their view the ambushed Canadian volunteers, who were only awaiting the signal to spring out upon the unsuspecting invaders.
All this time Le Caron, who had spent years of intimate association with many of the Irishmen and who was regarded as their friend and confidant, stood upon the hilltop to watch the inevitable slaughter. They advanced a few yards farther, and on their startled ears came the whistling sound of many bullets from the rifles of the ambushed Canadians as they poured a deadly volley straight into their ranks.
Little remains to be told. There was fierce fighting and terrible bloodshed, but the invaders were overcome by superior numbers and well disciplined troops. Finally they were forced to retreat up to the hill where Le Caron stood, still under the fire of their adversaries and leaving their dead to be subsequently buried by the Canadians.
Seeing that all was over, for the time at least, the spy had hurried off to the point where the St. Albans contingent had arrived and were forming. He actually took part in this ceremony, and while engaged in superintending it he was afforded, as he says, practical evidence of the termination of O’Neill’s part in the fight. While he was standing in the middle of the road where the men were forming into line, he was startled by the cry:
“Clear the road, clear the road!”
He was almost knocked down by a team of horses pulling a covered carriage, and as the conveyance flashed by him he caught through the carriage window a hurried glimpse of the dejected face of General O’Neill, who was seated between two men. He said in speaking of this that he might have given the command to shoot the horses as they turned an adjacent corner, but it was no part of his purpose to restore O’Neill to his command.
It became known later that O’Neill was in the custody of the United States Marshal, General Foster, who, acting under instructions from Washington, had arrived on the scene of the battle immediately after Le Caron left and arrested O’Neill on the charge of breaking the neutrality laws. O’Neill, who was in the company of his comrades, refused to surrender and threatened force, but when General Foster placed a revolver at his head he succumbed.
Late that afternoon when the news of O’Neill’s arrest became known, a council of war was held, presided over by John Boyle O’Reilly. On the following morning General Spear, the secretary of war of the Fenian Brotherhood, arrived at St. Albans and tried to do something practical in the way of continuing the invasion. He pleaded with Le Caron to supply him with 400 or 500 stands of arms and ammunition within the next twenty-four hours, but the spy felt that it would not do for him to allow further operations, and so he said that it would be impossible to grant the demands under the condition of affairs then prevailing. Thousands of Canadian troops had arrived on the border and were making the position of the Irish volunteers more precarious every moment.
Fortunately for Le Caron, 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 a breach of the neutrality laws the Fenians were compelled to disappear. The spy left with them and hurried to Malone and found a similar state of affairs prevailing there, although the arrest of O’Neill and the anticipated appearance of United States troops filled the invaders with dismay.
Le Caron was elated with his success and anxious to report himself at the Canadian headquarters without delay. He knew, however, that it would not be safe for him to go direct to Ottawa so he traveled in a roundabout way. One night he stopped with the Commissioner of the Quebec police, and the following morning took a train for Ottawa. Before this journey was concluded he found that he had been altogether too premature in his self congratulations, because that journey brought him closer to discovery than he had ever been before.
The incident which threatened to deprive him of his usefulness as a spy occurred at Cornwall where there was the usual half hour’s delay for dinner. He was in the midst of his meal, enjoying it with great zest in spite of the fact that his work as a spy had sent hundreds of men to their death, when two men stopped and gazed at him with unusual interest. One of them was tall and very military in his manner, and the other had on clerical attire. As Le Caron ceased eating he heard the clerical looking one say as he pointed his finger in his direction:
“That is the man!”
Advancing, the tall man, who subsequently turned out to be the Mayor of Cornwall, said with a Scotch accent:
“You are my prisoner!”
These words were accompanied with a strong grasp of the hand on the shoulder of the suspected one. He imagined there was some mistake, and laughed as he turned around to resume his dinner, but the Scotchman gave an added squeeze to his arm as he solemnly repeated the words:
“You are my prisoner, and you must go with me at once.”
It turned out later that the ministerial looking person was a wandering preacher who happened to be in the vicinity of Malone when Le Caron was loading arms there and he had been pointed out to him as the leading Fenian agent. The preacher’s memory was a very good one, and he immediately recognized the spy when he met him again.
It was a serious condition of affairs for Le Caron, but still he could not entirely comprehend what it all meant, and he said:
“Will not you let me finish my dinner?”
“No,” was the sharp reply, “you have got to come at once.”
“For what reason am I arrested?” asked Le Caron.
“You are a Fenian,” was the indignant reply, and then for the first time the spy noticed that the crowd in the room was beginning to show signs of anger and indignation toward him.
He was hurried out by his captors and taken to a room adjoining the ticket office, where a demand was made on him for his luggage and keys with everything on his person. He had with him documents which would reveal everything if they were made public. His position was dangerous, as he puts it “distinctly dangerous.”
In this emergency he asked the Mayor for a few minutes’ private conversation, and it was accorded him. They went inside the ticket office and Le Caron told him the exact situation. It was true, he admitted, that he had been working with the Fenians, but he was also a Government agent. In fact he was a British spy who had been keeping the Canadian officials informed of the details of the proposed invasion. He said that he was then on his way to Ottawa to see Judge McMicken. He said that to delay or expose him would mean serious difficulty to the Government.
His manner must have impressed the Mayor, for he decided to send him on to Ottawa in charge of an escort with instructions to find out from Judge McMicken whether his story was to be believed. The details of Le Caron’s arrest as a Fenian quickly spread amongst his fellow passengers and the reception he received along the journey was not very agreeable, so for safety’s sake the lieutenant transferred him to the care of a sergeant and two other soldiers. The carriage in which they traveled was the sole point of attraction in the train, and the Canadians, crowding around this carriage, hissed and hooted him, while their cries of “Hang him! Lynch him!” gave him a very uncomfortable idea of what would happen if he were left alone amongst them.
On reaching Prescott junction Le Caron found the news of his capture had preceded him and created such a sensation that a special correspondent of the Toronto Globe had traveled to meet him in order to find out who and what he was and everything about him. The spy of course refused to have anything to say. When the party arrived at Ottawa a representative of Judge McMicken was waiting for him at the station. He was conveyed to the police station without delay, and there the judge heard the details of his capture and received possession of his person and gave a formal receipt for his custody. After the guard left the judge listened to the recital of the spy and arranged that his identity should not become public. He also supplied him with needful funds to leave Canada. This came in the form of a check and it was necessary to have some one cash it. This was done at one of the clubs in Ottawa and the amount of the check—$350.00—caused the club porter to speak of it to some of his friends. This porter knew that Le Caron was the Fenian prisoner and 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 large sum of money from a Government official with whom he was in communication, adding that the Fenians must have been nicely duped all through.
Le Caron was very much disturbed by this publication. It was bringing danger very close to him, and yet strange as it may appear, suspicion did not rest upon him in connection with the newspaper story. He drove from Ottawa in the night and got safely home, not being troubled afterwards by any of the events of that fateful invasion into Canada.
Le Caron studied medicine after that and subsequently became connected with the Clan-na-Gael. He became one of the members of the military board of organization and in that capacity continued to send information to his friends at Scotland Yard. While he was in this organization he became acquainted with many of its leading members who believed that he was really a friend of Ireland and who never suspected that he was connected with the British Government and was regularly receiving compensation for the information which he sent from time to time to the home office in London.
Le Caron continued to serve as an English spy for nearly twenty years after the Fenian invasion of Canada. His part in that affair—or at least the part he played in keeping the Canadian and English governments informed of the movements of the Irish patriots—was never suspected by the men with whom he was associated and with whom he lived on such intimate terms. He was in constant communication with Mr. Anderson, the head of Scotland Yard, and his letters to that official, if gathered together, would make a volume in themselves. On one occasion when he was leaving America for a trip abroad he was entrusted with letters to Patrick Egan and other Irish leaders. He met Egan in Paris, and spent weeks with him in visiting places of interest in the French capital. They attended the theater together and dined at various restaurants in company, and Le Caron proudly boasts that he never had to spend a penny, because Egan insisted upon being the host at their various entertainments.
But it was when the famous suit of Parnell against the London Times was tried that the spy was at last revealed in his true light. He says of that event:
“On Tuesday morning, the 5th of February, 1889, the curtain was rung up, and throwing aside the mask forever, I stepped into the witness box and came out in my true colors, as an Englishman, proud of his country, and in no sense ashamed of his record in her services.”
His one complaint was that he had been treated badly in the matter of his pay by the British Government. He said that “the miserable pittance doled out for the purpose of fighting the Clan-na-Gael becomes perfectly ludicrous” in the light of the service he was called on to perform.
It all depends upon the way in which the business is regarded, and there are still a great many persons that will resent the effort of Thomas Beach, or Major Henri Le Caron, to place a halo about his head.