UNIVERSITY OF ILLfr '^ L'SRARY AT Ur.. CriAMPAIGIi ILL HIST. SURVEY Cl/%^O^V%y TWENTY-FIVE YEARS THE SECRET SERVICE The "^collections of a Spy MAJOR HENRI LE CARON, p<u.^wU "Cmitb portraits auD ^Facsimiles "No citizen has a right to consider himself as belonging to himself; but all ought to regard themselves as belonging to the State, inasmuch as each is a part of the State ; and care for the part naturally looks to care for the whole." —Aristotle. Second b BDition LONDON WILLIAM HEINEMANN 1S92 [All rights reserved'\ INTRODUCTION. It has seemed good in the sight of many people that I should place on record, in some permanent and acceptable form, the story of my eventful life. And so I am about to write a book. The task is a daring one— perhaps the most daring of the many strange and unlooked-for incidents which have marked my career of adventure. I approach it with no light heart, but rather with a keen appreciation of all its difficulties. To cater, and cater successfully, for the reading public of thisy?/2 de siecle period is an undertaking which fairly taxes all the powers of resource and experience of the most brilliant writers of our time. And I am in no sense a practised writer, much less a professional litteratetir. I have spent my life working at too high a pressure, and in too excited an atmosphere, to allow of my qualifying in any way for the role of author. Nor am I handicapped in this way alone. I am, unfortunately for my purpose, deprived of the IXTRODUCTIOX. most important of collaborators a writer ever called to his aid—the play of imagination. For me there is no such thing as romance to be in- dulged in here. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth is what I have set myselt to tell re'^'^ardino- ail those matters with which I shall deal. There are many things, of course, to which I may not refer ; but with respect to those upon which I feel at liberty to touch, one unal- terable characteristic will apply all through, and that will be the absolute truthfulness of the record. This mav seem strano-e lancruacre comin^" from one who. for over a quarter of a century, has played a double part, and who to-day is not one whit ashamed of any single act done in that capacity. iMen's lives, however, are not to be judged by the outward show and the visible suggestion, but rather by the inward sentiments and promptings which accept conscience at once as the inspirer of action and arbiter of fate. It is hard, I know, to expect people in this cold prosaic age of ours to fully understand how a man like myself should, of his own free will, have entered upon a life such as I have led, with such pureness of moti\-e and absence of selhsh instinct as to entitie me to-day INTRODUCTION. to claim acceptance at the bar of public opinion as an honest and a truthful man. Yet such is my claim. When years ago, as these subsequent pages will show, I was first brought into contact with Fenian affairs, no fell purpose, no material consideration prompted me to work against the revolutionary plotters. A young man, proud of his native land and full of patriotic loyalty to its traditions, I had no desire, no intention to do augrht but frustrate the schemes of my country's foes. When, later on, I took my place in the ranks of England's defenders, the same condition of mind prevailed, though the conditions of service varied. And so the situation has remained all through. Forced by a variety of circumstances to play a part I never sought, but to which, for conscientious motives, I not unwillingly adapted myself, I can admit no shame and plead no regret. By my action lives have been saved, communities have been benefited, and right and justice allowed to triumph, to the confusion of law-breakers and would-be murderers. And in this recollection I have my consolation and my reward. Little else indeed is left me in the shape of either the one or the other. There is a popular fiction, I know. INTRODUCTION. which associates with my work fabulous payments and frequent rewards. Would that it had been so. Then would the play of memory be all the sweeter for me. But, alas ! the facts were all the other way. As I will show later, in the Secret Service of England, there is ever present danger, and constantly recurring difficulty, but of recom- pense, a particularly scant supply. L LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PORTRAITS. Major Henri Le Carox . Frontispiece Alexander Sullivan ". To face p. 62 Patrick Egan 160 Charles Stewart Parnell 178 "Number One"— P. J. Tynan FACSIMILES. The Oath of Allegiance 16 A Fenian Twenty-dollar Bond 27 My Commission as Major in the Army of the Irish Republic 54 Patrick Egan's Letter of Introduction . 234 Alexander Sullivan's Cheque for Thirty Thousand Dollars 264 Alexander Sullivan's Letter . Appendix II TWENTY-FIVE YEARS IN THE SECRET SERVICE. I. Of my early youth little that is very interesting or exciting can be told. A faded entry in the ao'ed records of the ancient borouo-h of Colchester evidences the fact that a certain Thomas Beach, to wit myself, came into this world some fifty and one years ago, on the 26th day of September 1 84 1. My parents were English, as the American " would phrase it, from far away back," my grandfather tracing his lineage through many generations in the county of Berkshire. The second son of a family of thirteen, I fear I proved a sore trial to a careful father and affectionate mother, by my erratic methods and the varied outbursts of my wild exuberant nature. My earliest recollection is of the teetotal principle on which we were all brought up, and the absence of strong: drink from all our household feasts. The point is a trivial one, but not unworthy of note, as it supplies the key to some of my suc- cesses in later life, in keeping clear of danger TWENTY-FIVE YEARS through intoxication, when almost all of those with whom I dealt were victims to it. When others lost their heads, and their caution as well, I was enabled, through my distaste for drink, to benefit in every way. Living in a military town as I did, and coming into daily contact with all the pomp and circum- stance of soldiering, it was but natural that the glory of the redcoat life should affect me, and that, like so many other foolish boys, I should feel drawn to the ranks. Of course I wanted to enlist, and what wonder that for me life held no nobler ambition and success, no grander figure than that clothed with the uniform of the bold drummer- boy. All my efforts, however, were naturally of no avail, and I found the path to glory blocked at every point. The fever, nevertheless, was upon me, and my want of success only made me the more determined to achieve my object in the long run. Home held no promise of success, and at home I decided I would no longer remain. So it came about that one fine mornino;-, when little more than twelve years of age, I packed my marbles, toys, and trophies, and in the early light slipped quietly out on to the high-road eii route for that Mecca of all country boys—the great glorious city of London ! I had run away from home in grim earnest. IX THE SECRET SERVICE. 3 Not for very long, however. Fortunately for me—unfortunately as I thought in those young days— I committed a grave blunder in tactics. Meeting one of my school-fellows on the journey, I was foolish enough to inform him of my pro- ceeding and intention, and in this way my anxious parents were soon put upon my track, and my interesting and exciting escapade was brought to an igrnominious conclusion. I had, however, tasted of the sweets of adventure, and it was not very long before I made another attempt to rid myself of the trammels of home life. Here again I was fated to meet with defeat, but not before I had made a distinct advance upon my first effort, for two weeks were allowed to elapse before I was discovered on this occasion. The natural con- sequences attended these attempts of mine, and soon I was written down as the black sheep of the family, from whom no permanent good could ever be expected. The idea of keeping me longer at school was quite given up, and in order the better to tie me down, I was apprenticed for a period of seven years to Mr. Thomas Knight, a Quaker, and well- known draper in my native town. The arrange- ment suited me not at all. Nothing could be more uncongenial than a life worked out in the solemn atmosphere of a staid and strict Quaker's home, TIVEXTY-FIJ^E YEARS where the efforts to curb my impulsive nature resulted in increasinij bitterness of spirit on my part every day. In eleven months it was con- ceded on both sides that the continuation of the arranofement was distinctlv undesirable, and so I was free once more. A short residence with my parents followed ; but the old promptings to wander afar were too strong for me, and once more, for the third and last time, I broke away, and reached London at last, in the month of 'Sls.y 1S57.