Wrapped in Flames: The Great American War and Beyond

[EnglishCanuck]

Chapter 135: The Blood of Erin​

“The now joined British and Canadian force, absent the 13th Battalion, began marching on the Fenian position at Black Creek.

O’Neill had not been idle with his force. Fences had been torn down, shallow rifle pits dug, and his small pair of guns had been mounted at their most advantageous position. As George Denison III would write after the battle “It was clear by their preparations and dispositions this was no band of brigands, but a well trained veteran force.” He had roughly two dozen mounted men acting as scouts, and another 3,000 armed men who held the line. Facing him would be just over 4,000 Anglo-Canadians rapidly transported to the frontier by the night of June 4th.

Peacocke was unaware of the size of the Fenian force. Reports had laboriously filtered back and forth through the Fenian lines from civilians, detectives, and newspaper men who had traveled between the opposing camps between June 2nd and 4th. Some reports indicated as many as 10,000 Fenians, while others claimed as few as 1,500. By the morning of the 4th, the Fenians had at least stopped receiving reinforcements as the USS Michigan had finally interposed herself between Buffalo and Fort Erie. However, the Fenians had managed to bring over 4,000 across, and estimates held a further 2,000 had gathered in Buffalo, and were agitating to be allowed over to “get at the hated redcoats again” which caused considerable chagrin to local officials.

For all that the Anglo-Canadian force had gathered to strike the Fenians, with secure supplies in their rear and militia guarding the major points, O’Neill had failed to do the same. Roughly one thousand men were roaming the countryside seeking out the main body, and only some 400 men remained ‘on duty’ in Fort Erie, haphazardly guarding the river as the US Navy impotently looked on. It was going to depend on the day of battle itself to see the immediate outcome…

By this point almost every other Fenian assault had failed. Some 800 men had finally grown tired of Tevis’s inaction and crossed the Frontier at Sandwich, running straight into an equal number of Canadian militia. A paltry firefight had ensued, sending the Fenians fleeing across the border again in under fifteen minutes as neither side pressed their advantage.

Only near Prescott had the Fenians experience anything like success. Roughly 1,000 men had crossed the St. Lawrence River, landing near the old windmill that had served as the sight of the 1838 battle between the Patriot raiders and Canadian militia, capturing a small militia detachment after a short fight. They immediately marched towards Fort Wellington, with the militia and a company of regulars marching to meet them.

In the initial engagement near Chrysler’s Farm, the Fenians succeeded in driving the Canadians back. Their attempts to follow on June 3rd were hampered by their lack of logistics, the descent of Canadian gunboats and reinforcements, and the news that the United States Army had arrived on the other side of the river. Promptly a quarter of the force deserted, while the remainder kept on the path, coming up against the now much stronger Canadian force near Prescott.

Seeing that discretion was the better part of valor, and with no real way home, the Fenians surrendered and were taken into captivity…

June 4th opened with an artillery barrage on the Fenian position, with the Fenian guns firing back sporadically before being silenced by British field pieces. O’Neill’s men were not dug in deep enough to resist artillery, but the British barrage was aimed at the Fenian guns, and in a manner that it was hoped would demoralize the Fenians rather than destroy them. The Fenians though, were veterans from many battlefields, and it would take more than artillery to dislodge them.

Peacocke, believing the time had come, ordered his men to form up and advance…” - The Emergency of 1867, Howard Senior, 1986

“I cannot fault the tactical knowledge of Colonel Peacocke, he was a veteran of the War of 1862 and he had commanded his own men quite ably. We had no reason to believe this was anything less than a well armed band of freebooters. The way into the Fenian position had been, so it was reported, suppressed by artillery. Thus he ordered the advance.

In the next two hours, we would make two charges at the Fenians, and the combat was fierce. British and Canadian soldiers came to grapple with their foes. In many instances, I can verify, the fighting came down to hand to hand. These were not simple bandits, ready to flee at the first sign of resistance, this was a well motivated command under an able commander. Though the cavalry would not play a part that day, we were witnesses to the ordeal.

Without reservation I can say that the men of Canada and England fought well. We exchanged fire and blows with the enemy, but the enemy had chosen his position well. In time though, our advantage in firepower would tell. The Fenians began falling back in disciplined withdrawal, firing as they went. This was no route as the rebels had found at Tallaght Hill across the sea or a sullen withdrawal as at Eccles Hill only days earlier. It was a vicious repulse. But withdraw the enemy did.

It is merely to be regretted that it cost the lives of three hundred brave men with another four hundred casualties in such assaults!” - Soldiering In Canada, Recollections and Experiences of Brigadier General George T. Denison III, Toronto Press 1900

“...advance into Fort Erie almost uncontested. Skinner’s 800 men found Fenian guard parties, and in a brief skirmish of only an hour, had captured them. The short sharp fight to seize the town led to roughly 100 Fenian prisoners taken, with three dead for only two Canadian wounded. Skinner had carried out a difficult operation, one even against orders, and firmly cut the Fenians off from their retreat.

He now ordered the town defended, with small redoubts established along the rode, and tried to make contact with the column he knew would be proceeding from Thorold. Men were sent back to Port Colborne to summon reinforcements. He knew that there were more Fenians somewhere, but not where they were.

Little did he know that in his own short skirmish, hundreds of men were killing and dying but a few miles distant.

O’Neill’s retreat, while orderly, was handled under pressure. He knew now his only hope was to make it back to Fort Erie and, hopefully, extricate his forces so he could withdraw to Buffalo and then disperse his men. The great invasion of Canada had manifestly failed, and he had lost one hundred men already, minus the wounded an captured. A ragged column of 2,500 men marched back to Fort Erie, doggedly pursued by vengeful Anglo-Canadian forces. His last duty now was to withdraw and bring the brave men home, he felt.

To the great surprise of the Fenian forces, they encountered firing from Fort Erie. The British flag again flew over the settlement and men in red coats stood guard, waiting behind barricades as they watched the Fenian forces arrive. Skinner’s men were disheartened by the appearance of better than twice their number, but Skinner bravely walked the line and encouraged his boys calling them to “Take heart lads! We’ve whipped Yankees before!”

At the last, the exhausted Fenians hesitated. Many of them hanging back, while others moved to skirmish with the Canadians.

O’Neill now dreamt of one final stand to either break through, or to fight and die to distract the British in Canada as much as possible. Hynes however, managed to talk his commander out of a brazen last stand and convinced him that their men were exhausted. Most of their ammunition had been used up at the Battle of Black Creek, and they were now sandwiched between two forces. One smaller British force at the water’s edge, and finally the larger pursuing British column.

Relenting, O’Neill would instead choose to surrender his command, and his sword, to a slightly bewildered Skinner. O’Neill’s pride would not allow him to surrender to a proper British officer…

The Canadians now had nearly 4,000 prisoners, all of them American citizens. The question of what to do with them loomed large[1]…

Erin had been plying the coasts of the Bay of Fundy seizing fishing vessels for four days by the time she came upon the HMS Pylades. The ship had been patrolling the coasts since the year prior, tasked by Halifax with watching for more Fenian raids. The failure of the second cross border attack had only heightened the sudden awareness of the navy and Pylades was on alert.

She was sailing just along the international waters with Canada and the United States when it happened. Though we will never know what the Erin and her small crew were thinking, they approached the Pylades under the American flag. The presence of an American flagged vessel was not unusual, and Pylades merely moved along, signalling the crew of the Erin to be watchful. The Erin responded by pulling closer, which was deemed odd, but not startling.

Secret gunports snapped open and the Erin fired, shortly thereafter lowering the Stars and Stripes and raising the flag of the Irish Republic, the Fenian sunburst banner. Pylades crew, shocked, hesitated briefly until her captain bellowed them to battle stations. Men ran to their guns and the decks were cleared as Erin fired on. The sudden sea battle had broken out with intensity.

So far as we know the two ships were roughly evenly matched, but even with surprise, the Erin could not overcome the professionalism of the Pylades crew. In the hour long engagement, the Erin was less seaworthy, and Pylandes eventually outmanoeuvred the other vessel and began to pound her to splinters. The exact fate of the Erin is unknown, with her sinking being either the result of action, or the crew scuttling her to prevent her capture. In any event, no survivors were picked up, only half dead men fished from the water where they soon succumbed to their wounds.

As soon as Pylades made port, she telegraphed word of her battle to both Ottawa and London…

Despite some risings, the fighting in the Irish countryside had petered out by June 10th.​

The Shannon arrived off Cork under John Kavanagh on June 18th, intending to drop arms to the rebels and act as the basis for the new Fenian navy. Instead, she found the port bustling with British warships, and the Union Jack still flying high. Kavanagh, waiting offshore to see if fighting was still raging, did not wish to send men ashore. Lest the Royal Navy become suspicious, he waited for the next day to follow a fishing boat. Capturing the tiny vessel, he took the crew hostage and demanded news. They informed him the fighting had, largely, petered out.

Some fighting still erupted in the countryside, but the Fenians had largely been defeated. This news seemed to enrage Kavanagh, and he declared they would return to America, but first they would burn a British ship. The unfortunate fishermen were kept as hostages and their vessel sunk, while Kavanagh prowled the waters around Ireland.

The steamer Keogh was transiting across to Cardiff when Shannon encountered her. The Fenian crew proclaimed her a prize of the Irish Navy before setting the crew adrift and sinking the Keogh. The Irish owned vessel and mostly Irish crew, naturally, took a dim view of their supposed liberators and as soon as they were back to shore immediately reported the incident to the navy. Incidentally, the ships off Cork had been looking for the lost fishermen and when they turned up with the crew of the Keogh, sortied and gave chase to the “Irish pirates” as the press dubbed them.

The pursuit was swift, and despite able sailing, the Shannon was soon sighted and captured when the crew realized they could not outrun the pursuing British frigates. Seized and sailed back to Cork, Kavanagh and his men were interned, but soon learned that they would not be so lucky as the crew of the St. Patrick. They had seized British shipping in British waters and carried destruction to her shores, all while not being protected as combatants. They would be charged as pirates, a sentence that carried the death penalty[2]…” - The Emergency of 1867, Howard Senior, 1986

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1] Indeed the now looming question of what to do with a few thousand filibusters?

2] This would have been the fate of American or Confederate privateers OTL. The agreement of European nations to ban the practice of privateering effectively made anyone who participated in the practice a pirate. Some Confederates were interned in Capetown OTL because they tried this, but were ultimately let go because their officers were commissioned belligerents. They just didn't have a ship anymore. Kavanagh and his men won't be so lucky...

 

[EnglishCanuck]

Chapter 136: We’re All Americans​

“The general emerged from the train at Buffalo in a cloud of cigar smoke. With a regiment of infantry and a company of cavalry at his back, one of the greatest unsung heroes of the Great American War had stepped foot along the frontier to finally settle accounts. Ulysses S. Grant had come to put an end to the Fenian disturbances along the border.

This was but a part of his whirlwind tour which had begun on the 2nd of June with a rapid transit to the new Aroostook border, up to the steadily rising Fort Montgomery on the Quebec border, a jaunt to Ogdensburg, and now Buffalo. At each stop he had proclaimed that the Federal government demanded peace on the frontier. With the stick of Federal troops and arrest warrants in one hand, and the bread of offers of free transit home and no questions asked to any Fenian who desired it in the other, he was dispersing the Fenian army with little difficulty. Some truculent individuals refused to leave and were gently taken into custody, while the vast majority of the Fenians, now seeing the fighting as essentially over, took the general up on his offer. Thousands of men began streaming home with little more than a promise not to take up arms against Canada again.

Buffalo though, was where the chief concentration of militant Fenians remained. It was estimated 2,000 were still congregating in the town, hopeful for a chance to attack Britain and relieve their fellows so recently captured by the British. The fact that a barge load of Fenians sat imprisoned on the Niagara River under the watchful eye of American gunboats seemed to deter them little. In fact, some seemed emboldened, with many rescues having been undertaken with Fenians being picked up in ones and twos by boaters under the watchful eye of the navy, whose main concern was ensuring they didn’t cross the border.

Grant had, ironically, come to town amidst cheers from many Fenians. They were soldiers who had fought with him across the West from 1862-64, and even many in Buffalo that day had fought against him. The old rivalries had been put aside in favor of striking at the true enemy, the British[1]. Grant though, had little time for this trans-Atlantic rivalry. He had been ordered to disperse the Fenians and he would disperse them.

In a speech to men, not only of Fenian extraction, but soldiers called up from the interior to provide security, Grant reminded them all that they were soldiers. Or had been. He congratulated brave men “willing to fight and die for a noble cause” but cautioned “men must not bring the quarrels of Europe to our doorstep.” He implored men not to risk lives and livelihood for a cause that was not, inevitably, doomed. This was confirmed by the reports of the failure of the rising in Ireland, and by reports all along the frontier that the invasion had failed. Nowhere had Fenian forces successfully taken Canadian territory, and everywhere the Fenians were disbanding or being taken into custody.

General O’Neill himself was a prisoner across the border, and Sweeney was facing comfortable incarceration at Albany. Grant said “the game is up” and the remaining Fenians took him at his word. Especially as he promised the government would do all it could to free those imprisoned in Canada…” - The Emergency of 1867, Howard Senior, 1986

“It was a difficult situation. Thousands of Americans were now prisoners in Canada, and all of them had been engaged in unprovoked violence against the Canadian people. Unlike after 1864 when the thousands of American prisoners had been released, these were not soldiers engaged and protected under the rules of war, but fillibusters coming to annex Canada in a mad scheme to liberate Ireland. With some 400 Canadians dead, the public cried for blood.

Macdonald now faced another international crisis a mere year into the creation of Canada. When Fenian prisoners were marched through Toronto, mobs swore, struck and hurled garbage at the captured men. The military escort had to do more to keep the Fenians from being torn apart rather than prevent their escape.. They were dispatched across the new country, from Toronto, to London, Kingston, Montreal, Quebec, and Ottawa. Housing them proved a problem, and it was hoped to parole as many as possible before trying the ring leaders.

Unfortunately, Macdonald’s hope for a simple solution, was at odds with public opinion. Worse, his old adversary, George Brown, had returned at precisely the wrong moment.

Brown had been enjoying his honeymoon in Europe, but had returned just at the tail end of the 1867 crisis. From the Globe, fiery articles had been running daily regarding the “Fenian Menace” which was on the minds of every Canadian in the waning days of June. Brown, still not agreeing with the centralizing direction he saw Macdonald embarking on, immediately took to the presses to demand justice for Canadians, which meant death to Fenians.

“It must be the policy of this government to mete out to the Fenians a hard justice. Once and for all we must make it known that a crime against Canada shall be faced with stern force and unyielding might. Those piratical bands which have in past weeks preyed on the Canadian population must be treated as the enemies of all humanity, and met with the noose.”

What the public desired in the dangerous days of 1867 was for each Fenian to get a long drop with a short rope. Macdonald however, rejected any such notion with show trials, and ordered that fair trials would be undertaken. However, even he realized that the process of trying over 4,000 Fenian prisoners would be an arduous one and some expediency would have to be offered. Thus, military tribunals were established. Macdonald’s familiarity with them, both from the war and in the aftermath of the 1837-38 Patriot Rebellions, meant he realized that they could be both remarkably lenient and also unflinchingly cruel.

This required partnering with Governor General Monck, who, acting on orders from Whitehall, leaned on his officers and officials not to use the death penalty. Men who were captured without arms were simply ordered deported, at a stroke sending 500 Fenians home. Men captured under arms were divided into two categories, those who had surrendered after a battle, and those who had largely surrendered without a fight. The latter were again deported, sending a further 1,200 Fenians home.

It was that former category, some 2,000 men, who would prove more troublesome. Most of those had been caught fighting, and many had undoubtedly killed or wounded Canadians. This was a more sensitive matter. Almost all of them were American citizens, so executing them would provoke a response. However, some had undoubtedly committed crimes worthy of the death penalty.

Fenian generals were now celebrities in captivity. Most had been moved to the Kingston Penitentiary where they could be watched not just by the civil authorities, but under close scrutiny from the garrison in Kingston, strengthened against any further attempts by the Fenians to cross the frontier. However, the biggest nuisance would be the hordes of reporters practically besieging the jail begging for interviews with the Fenian officers.

O’Neill in particular was famous. He had occupied parts of Canada longer than any other force, and led his men in the first independent Irish formation against Britain in centuries. Praised by the presses in America, he was called an Irish national hero, while the now virulent turning Anglophobic press praised his ability to “show John Bull what was what” with an American spirit.

Even Macdonald expressed a desire to hang him, but held off, hoping that the public passions would cool down. He wouldn’t even schedule a trial. For the other Fenians though, that was expectation.

The first large trial of Fenian officers, a gaggle of fifty captains, was held on June 20th. They were led under heavy guard to the courthouse, a packed in with curious onlookers and reporters, a ring of bayonet wielding redcoats keeping the crowd at bay. In the opening remarks they were all charged with breaking the peace, theft, arson of public property, and manslaughter[2]. The judge, alongside his military fellows, declared that they were not properly protected by any rules of war, and so the military tribunal was out to determine their culpability in the invasion.

When asked for any words in their defence, one Fenian sprang up and declared “We are all Americans here! We have no need to recognize this mistrial of justice! If you wish, hang us and be done!” This prompted cheers from the other Fenian officers, shouts of “Down with the Queen” and other patriotic American slogans. The courtroom became uncontrollable thereafter and the days proceedings were suspended.

Leaning hard on this tribunal, Macdonald encouraged the militia officers and civil officials to press for hard labor. Even if there was unequivocal evidence the men had ordered murder. This was issued in the strictest secrecy as Brown, and now other emerging liberals, banged the drum of vengeance loud. So loud that even Macdonald’s own supporters were inquiring why some of the worst offenders were not simply hanged. Kingston was the perfect place for it, some reasoned.

The Fenian’s outburst revealed a basic truth though. The Fenians were American citizens. Their fates would be inextricably linked to an American response, and there was no saying that the United States would not take exception to the execution, however justified, of her citizens…” – Nation Maker: The Life of John A. Macdonald, Richard Chartrand, Queens University Publishing, 2005

“The Fenian trials were a divisive headache. Some Americans, McClellan included, believed that they ‘deserved whatever they got’ but they were so popular amongst Irish-American circles, a group that had come out for McClellan in 1864, that it would be political suicide to ignore their demands that the Fenians be freed at once.

Such a demand was, of course, impossible to accede to, but McClellan had competing priorities. Britain had responded to the crisis by sending more warships to North America, and the navy had already been forced to step up its own patrols along the coast. There were now almost 20,000 soldiers on the frontier with Canada to keep the peace, and it might require more. Even with the Fenians dispersing, there were many who feared they would return.

Seymour had already taken two direct and terse meetings with the British ambassador, Edward Thornton. Thankfully for McClellan, Thornton was not a war hawk. He had a skill for defusing situations, and had been appointed to the United States after smoothing over relations with the Empire of Brazil who had cut diplomatic ties with the British in 1863[3]. Now, he sought to avert a second war in a decade with the United States.

Matters had not been helped by his first instructions from London. There had been a, for Palmerston, characteristically blunt demand, bordering on order, for the United States to disperse the Fenians operating along the border. Even Seymour’s ability for compromise was strained by such a demand, and only a softer intervention a few days later with a diplomatic request had saved relations. However, it had come with a stern warning that Britain was not afraid to risk war with the United States should they continue to “materially and politically support the Fenian Brotherhood in the invasion of British territory.”

McClellan of course balked at such demands. Incorrectly he assumed that Thornton was pushing a hard line. The truth was far different, but McClellan could not see it as he could not simply sit down with Thornton and had to relay all information through Seymour. But with the crisis looming, this would never do, and Seymour and the President crafted a somewhat clever plan to both bypass protocol and public opinion.

Thornton was invited by Ellen to the White House to have a luncheon with the ladies as a show of good faith alongside his wife. At the luncheon, McClellan appeared to visit his wife, and as if by accident, ran into Thornton. He suggested a walk through the grounds so the ladies would not bore him with trivial talk. Walking then as gentlemen, they could discuss matters face to face.

Here McClellan learned Thornton was not a warhawk, and Thornton learned that McClellan had no desire to materially support the Fenians. However, Thornton reiterated that some justice had to be meted out to men who had invaded Canada. McClellan pressed on whether the men would be executed, and Thornton assured the president that the Fenian prisoners in Canada would not face the death penalty. At worst, life imprisonment, but he assured him that the Fenians were instead being sentenced to years of hard labor.

Finally, the most difficult matter. The crew of the Shannon. They were to a man American citizens. McClellan implored Thornton to push the British government not to execute the men as pirates. Thornton reminded McClellan that the men had used the American flag as camouflage for acts of indisputable piracy in British waters. “We could expect no less from your government were the flag a Union Jack fluttering over a Confederate pirate,” Thornton would say.

This would not satisfy the American public who, McCllelan said, would demand war. Thornton reiterated that neither he or his government wanted war, but if compelled as they had been in 1862[4], they would fight again. McClellan said he could not flout the will of the American people. But beyond the posturing, both men reiterated their commitment to peace and bringing a practical conclusion to the current crisis.

McClellan left the meeting with some hope, but now fretting over a trial an ocean away. He would soon have cause to fret about trials much closer to home. The level of his government’s involvement in the ongoing crisis was about to be revealed…” - I Can Do It All: The Trials of George B. McClellan, Alfred White, 1992, Aurora Publishing

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1] True. The Fenians were an all over group of veterans with many from the South coming north to fight for Ireland, and taking up arms alongside men they had been shooting at, in some cases, merely a year earlier in 1865 during the OTL 1866 invasion.

2] A crime that was on the books. Considering the mass scale of the accused and the near impossibility of figuring out who fired the fatal shots, very few Fenians would be charged with murder. The historical prisoners were mostly charged with lesser crimes for this reason.

3] True to OTL. Britain is doing some foreign damage control with relations after the war here too. Even with how high handed they might be, they do not desire another war with America.

4] This is an American author saying what a British person in 1867 believes. Most Americans blame Britain on her own, but some blame Lincoln for causing Britain’s entry into the war. It’s a complicated topic to say the least.

 

[EnglishCanuck]

Chapter 137: Baltimore Blues​

“The collusion of members of the United States Army in offering material help to the Fenians was not difficult to foresee. Men in the army had tried to alert Washington about the ties between Fenians and officers hostile to Britain, but it was seen as a minor problem or brushed aside. British agents had reported to their superiors, who had then reported covertly to the United States, that there was pipeline of weapons to the Fenian cause. This too was ignored. Despite the efforts of well meaning officers, all efforts to stop any work by the Fenians to infiltrate or profit from the army were ignored.

This was because the Secretary of War wished it so. Benjamin Butler earnestly believed that a ‘plan of action’ was needed to keep the substantial Irish vote on side. He was also Anglophobic by nature, which made supporting an Irish attack on the British an added bonus in his eyes. While historians have never found a ‘smoking gun’ showing Butler had ordered the support of the Fenians, but as his contemporaries discovered, an unusual volume of evidence showed many of his decisions in the lead up to the Crisis of 1867 to be more than a coincidence.

Seymour, dealing directly with many of the irate demands from Britain, felt compelled to use his power as Secretary of State in a way he had often decried his predecessor Seward for, investigating American citizens. He hired detectives, swore in agents to monitor Fenian agitators on American soil, and most importantly of all, monitored army officers with known Fenian sympathies.

It had been his willingness to shadow General Sweeney which revealed some of the other Fenian agents, and allowed him to trace a number of arms dealers who had supplied the Fenian caches. The help of a Fenian double agent, Colonel Le Caron, also lent Seymour’s agents significant aide in tracking down weapons meant for the invasion and seizing them before they could be collected. This was how the large cache in Baltimore was discovered…

In what can only be described as a black comedy, the investigation by Pinkerton agents into the Fenian arms smuggling ring then ended with a shoot out between Pinkertons and War Department agents who were guarding a warehouse full of rifles that had unofficially been sold to the Fenians. Two War Department agents were shot and killed with a third wounded, while a single Pinkerton was wounded in the exchange. The whole fiasco was then broken up with the six Pinkertons and four surviving War Department agents apprehended by the Baltimore Police and imprisoned. Upon receiving the news, both Seymour and Butler would send men racing to Baltimore to try and take custody of the men in question. Seymour’s men arrived first, but had to argue with a company of United States infantry that they had jurisdiction to detain the men, and only an order from the President himself cleared up any confusion and packed the offenders off to prison in Washington.

Under interrogation it was determined that only two of the men were actually from the army, while the remainder were Boston detectives associated with Butler and protecting his brother’s trading interests. The particularly dire threats leveled against the detectives soon wrung out a whole scandal of smuggling and efforts to dodge the tariffs on British goods in a particularly lucrative scheme to undercut domestic competitors for New England railroad companies that Andrew Butler had invested in. When the story broke in October, it sent shock waves through the domestic political scene and immediate inquiries were demanded into the conduct of the Secretary of War.

While the investigation into the Fenians was underway in a separate Congressional investigation, the uncovering of the Boston Ring would prove an enormous headache for the President and his allies…” - The Era of Hard Feelings, William Avery, Random House, 1989

“McClellan, naturally, had no clue how deep Butler’s duplicitous dealings went outside the War Department. While historians still debate whether it was a willful ignorance or complete ignorance, this author leans towards the latter belief. The evidence seems clear that McClellan was completely taken aback by the news his Secretary of War had known about the large Fenian arms shipments and sales, but had done almost everything in his power to aid them rather than stop them.

Immediately he demanded Butler’s resignation, which after several days of resistance, Butler delivered to the White House and stepped down. The damage was already done however. A firestorm erupted on both sides of the Atlantic.

“Can it be doubted that the United States is a fallen nation willing to export its own chaos and demagoguery to every corner of the globe?” The Times would thunder. Other newspapers were no less outraged in their condemnation once the extent to which the American involvement became public. There were few in London who believed that McClellan, despite his honest dealings with Thornton. The British press pilloried him almost as much as the domestic press.

Horace Greeley, long an implacable foe of the President, used the New York Tribune to splash all reported developments (no matter how inaccurate) onto the front page of his newspapers. John Hay, Lincoln’s former secretary turned editorial writer, haunted the halls of Washington seeking any details he could to sell copy and discredit the president. Any newspapers hostile to the administration followed suit. Soon Washington was "practically besieged by reporters,” Barlow would grumble. Indeed, many prominent men would have to leave their offices while continuously hounded by newspapermen, often fleeing under cover of night to avoid them.

McClellan would not make matters better. A week after accepting Butler’s resignation, he took his wife and infant son to Cape May, pleading the need to watch for his wife’s ill health. The opposition press crowed that McClellan had again led another ‘masterful retreat’ in the face of his enemies. Though he maintained constant correspondence with his supporters and cabinet through Barlow, and Seymour would go to the Columbia House where McClellan camped out with his wife. There the two men would coordinate the investigation into Butler’s misdeeds, perform damage control on both the foreign and domestic front, and McClellan would issue a sweeping arrest order for any of the Fenian leadership.

This would not go far enough for some, and in the House, the Senate became furious…” - I Can Do It All: The Trials of George B. McClellan, Alfred White, 1992, Aurora Publishing

“The Special Tribunal for the Handling of Military Affairs, as the long winded title for the committee would be officially known, but the press simply dubbed the Fenian Commission, met on July 5th 1867, and began using the information obtained by Seymour, and calling special witnesses to testify before the Commission. It began to show a long string of damning evidence against Butler and select members of the United States Army.

…little written evidence could be produced, but enough was circumstantial enough to be damning. A dozen officers were implicated in, at the very least, the unlawful sales of weapons, military supplies, and munitions to unknown sources. Corruption was rooted out in the Department of New England, and several clerks in the War Office were implicated in filing false reports regarding the storage of military supplies. The Commission’s efforts to fully pin Butler, and especially McClellan, as willing dupes of the Fenians, proved more difficult.

Prominent officers with known Fenian sympathies were hauled before the Commission, and under questioning revealed that they were indeed granted ‘generous’ leave by the War Office. Only in Sweeney’s case could the personal hand of Butler be felt however, as he had been granted an extended leave which seemed to serve little purpose beyond cover for organizing the Fenian invasion of Canada. But Sweeney would not elaborate, and even Butler himself when compelled to testify simply said he was acknowledging the request of a war hero.

Despite the most intensive effort at prosecution, the Republican opposition could not find any concrete evidence on the President, and even Butler was merely found to be ‘derelict in his duty’ which was a judgement that, while satisfying, carried little legal precedent for charges. From the perspective of Butler’s enemies, the investigations had turned up many corrupt dealings by his brother Andrew, becoming known as the “Baltimore Ring” where a large cartel of corrupt customs officials and local agents had turned a massive profit both during and after the war. That would lead to separate federal investigations.

Even without concrete evidence, the Republicans and Radicals in the House moved to attempt to impeach the president that winter. Though blasted by some moderates as “as waste of resources” it was the one bright spot in cooperation between the two factions since the end of the war…

…touring New York in the winter of 1867. At a meeting of local prominent veterans and officers, including his old friend Daniel Sickles, Hooker was asked to give a speech. Hooker declared he was not one for public speaking but spoke of the ‘dark times’ that the republic was facing. He addressed a very small crowd, no more than one hundred men, but when he spoke a chord was struck. Though his speech was recorded in full, this excerpt was the most reprinted “We must now act to conserve what has made this great republic a beacon of liberty and democracy against tyranny for nearly a century. It is in the interests of all that our leaders in Washington work to form a working consensus for the nation.” Which while mild, would cement the formation of a new political movement on the American stage…” - The Era of Hard Feelings, William Avery, Random House, 1989

 

[EnglishCanuck]

Chapter 138: Wars Averted​

“Despite months of saber rattling, it soon became clear to the men in the Quai d’Orsay and the Tuileries Palace that Prussia, and by extension her North German vassals, did not want war. This was despite the continual belligerent talk from Chancellor Von Roon and his government. Roon still demanded that no accommodation be reached with Paris, but he would also inform the King-President that the Prussian Army might not be ready for a war with France in 1867. They had not incurred significant losses in 1866, but the real need to watch their flank in case of Austrian engagement over the Luxembourg question was a prominent concern. This was especially true as both Bavaria and Saxony saw the attempt to keep Luxembourg out of French hands as little more than an attempt to annex yet another small state into Prussia’s orbit. Both Munich and Dresden put pressure on Vienna to back Paris in case of a conflict, and reluctantly Vienna made noises in France’s favor.

Napoleon III, while grateful, also realized from his military commanders that a war over Luxembourg might be premature. True there were some advantages to a war in the present moment, Britain distracted by the Irish question, Russia ruled by a youthful and inexperience tsar with no loyalty to Prussia, a coalition of German states and Austria which might support him, and a present financial and economic stability which meant his government could afford the expenditures of a war. There were however, disadvantages which stayed his hand. A full 10% of the army was abroad either in Rome, Asia or Mexico, and another 80,000 men were stationed in Algeria, which would require a mobilization of the troops at home, an act which his military planners had not properly drilled for in 1866. Returning some of his best troops from adventures abroad would be necessary before undertaking a war in Europe.

Prussia too saw the potential pitfalls, and without allies willing to engage alongside her, ultimately backed down. This caused a great consternation in the Prussian military class, one misstep which would not soon be forgotten. In the immediate term, King-President Friedrich asked for mediation of the dispute, which London would graciously provide. That was to Napoleon’s advantage as well. He had wished to mediate in Paris, a position of strength, but was convinced that a “neutral conference” would do much to alleviate concerns he wished to dictate terms to Europe.

The London Conference of 1867 was held on July 16th, and at the conference the parties involved, Britain, France, Austria, Prussia and the Netherlands, agreed that the sale should go forward. While the Dutch government was piqued with the king for dragging the nation to war for a ‘petty bribe’ they did accept a higher offer from France, 15 million francs to match the contribution to the king, in order to accept the Duchy of Luxembourg as a French possession. The Prussian garrison agreed to evacuate the city so a French garrison could take its place. All the powers present signed an agreement ratifying the sale and accepting the transfer of territory to France.

Napoleon gained a strategic territory on his frontier, which would allow pressure on the new North German Confederation, the Dutch had gained some financial restitution, while Austria had restored further prestige post-1866 alongside France. Prussia had gained nothing beyond peace. That created further tensions between the nations of Europe and Napoleon deduced that there may be strife in Europe sooner rather than later. To that end he sought to tie up loose ends with his empire, and would begin winding down his adventure in Mexico…” - Foreign Policy of the Second French Empire, Pierre Martin, 1991

“The ultimate fate of many of the Americans captured on British soil in 1867 was anticlimactic. Rising tensions between the two nations had ratched up over the summer, prompting both sides to place over 20,000 troops on each side of the border, staring one another down. Despite fiery rhetoric in Washington about protecting American lives, they soon fell into political infighting and with Butler’s forced resignation, one of the major movers of the crisis was out of office. The failure of the Fenian invasion in June had demoralized most of the movement and left them rudderless as their leaders were in prison. The failure of the rising in Ireland itself meant that there was, in the eyes of the members, now little to fight for. The tensest moments in trans-Atlantic relations since 1862 ended not with a bang, but with a whimper.

It did not save the lives of many Americans. Dozens had been killed in the fighting in Ireland and hundreds in Canada. Some would remain in Canadian prisons for years, some would end their days there. Others would be allowed to slip away, but by and large in 7 years the majority of captured Fenians would be freed from their imprisonment, as the paranoia around the movement had died out by the mid 1870s despite a further scare. The feeling of safety in Canada was too strong.

In Britain itself though, this was a different story. The captured rebels were sentenced to hard labor, but the sheer number, and with over 1,000 Americans in British jails still, something had to be done.

Trials were held, and Britain seriously debated how to avert another war while obtaining a reasonable degree of justice for the death of British subjects at American hands. Sentences were commuted from death, but even holding on to so many men promised to be problematic. So the government turned to a last resort with an old law. Transportation. Britain would rid itself of the homegrown menace through a means which had been in nearly continuous use for nearly two centuries by this point. The transportation of these “undesirables” to Australia was seen as a means of alleviating the pressure having them in Britain herself would cause both domestically and internationally. Though some would complain that the sentence was “as good as death” it was seen as a kinder fate that they deserved to many in the British establishment[1].

This would also mark the end of transportation as a means of punishment. Shortly after the order to expel over 1,479 men to Australia, Parliament would end the practice. Making this the last great transportation of convicts to that continent. Add to the fact that most were in fact foreign nationals, and it was one of the stranger cases. Almost all were military prisoners, save roughly 100 ‘political prisoners’ who were Fenian leaders and organizers. There was some consternation in the British colonies there themselves, but Britain swiftly overrode their concerns with direct orders that the men be scattered through the colonies to minimize the overall impact, and set their terms of hard labor to building up the burgeoning unity between the settler colonies.

On October 31st, after the last sentences had been passed down, the Last Fleet left Britain from various ports to bring the prisoners to their new home. Throughout the 79 day voyage the men would ultimately be resigned to their fates, while others plotted escape.

Not all were transported however. There was one man the government refused to send. John Kavanagh had undoubtedly been caught in the act of piracy in British waters using a neutral flag as camouflage for the true intent of his ship. While there had been a fierce desire to hang the entire crew, cooler heads realized a mass hanging would undoubtedly cause an uproar. To that end, the majority of the 29 man crew were sentenced to transportation and twenty-five years hard labor in Australia. John Kavanagh however, was tried and found guilty of piracy. He was sentenced to death and on November 7th 1867, led to the Gallows at the Old Bailey in London. A large crowd gathered to see the man known as “The Last Irish Pirate” hung for his misdeeds. Regarded as a foreigner he received little sympathy even in Irish circles, but he would become a martyr in the Fenian movement. His name would be long forgotten in Irish circles, only coming again half a century later…

The final outrages of the Crisis of 1867 were less military, and far more terroristic. Shortly after the transportation of the convicts on November 7th, Lord Palmerston and John Russell were exiting Parliament, when a man who had been lurking in the halls of the building appeared and brandished a revolver. Firing twice, his first shot missed, while the second shot struck Lord Russell in the head, killing him instantly. He was wrestled to the ground by onlookers, and soon thereafter arrested. His identity was soon confirmed as one Ricard O’Sullivan Burke, a former American soldier who had escaped detection and hidden in London after the failure of the rising. He confessed to the crime saying he had “come to kill that great scoundrel who had sundered liberty in two countries, Palmerston.” Instead he had killed a member of the British cabinet.

Though he had failed to kill the Prime Minister, he had still killed a cabinet member. His murder trial was simple enough, he was unrepentant and had been caught in the act, and he was soon executed to little fanfare. No government would raise their voice to free an assassin.

It was the subsequent Clerkenwell explosion which sealed the fate of the Fenians in 1867. In an effort to free their fellows held at Clerkenwell jail, a small band of Fenians smuggled a barrel of gunpowder near a hole they had dug in the wall and lit it in the hopes of causing a general prison break. A combination of poor timing and too much gunpowder caused the bomb to detonate when no prisoners were in the yard, and the resulting explosion killed 14 and injured 120, mostly civilians in the surrounding tenements[2]. As a result, London was filled with anti-Irish backlash, and Parliament would step up surveillance of Fenians, or suspected Fenian sympathizers both at home and abroad.

Ireland remained under the British yoke, and those would be liberators had manifestly failed in their goals to strike at Britain in a meaningful way, paving the way for decades of surveillance…” - The Emergency of 1867, Howard Senior, 1986
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1] This was the year of the last transportation historically, and ironically most were Fenians. Though not over 1,000 of them!

2] Also a real event, with just a few more deaths. It soured any sympathy the masses had for the Irish people in London and basically cemented a sense of anti-Irish paranoia for decades.

 

[EnglishCanuck]

Chapter 139: The Man Who Would Not Be Washington​

“In the dog days of summer, the Confederate States of America had regarded its upcoming election with something of a bored detachment. The belief amongst the Confederate political class was that Lee was going to run. As the hero of multiple campaigns, the man who had taken the fighting to the gates of Washington itself, and defeated every invasion of the Confederacy thrown at him, he was a shoe in to win any upcoming campaign. In fact, so convinced were the majority of the newspapers and Confederate politicians that they were only discussing who might represent a principled sacrificial lamb to run against him in the winter. That was the only consideration given by Davis and his enemies, no one wanted to burden themselves with a campaign they were destined to lose.

By July 1867, Lee had received so many peremptory congratulations on his decision to run, all while he still served in the military, that he wrote to the newspapers of Richmond on July 24th to once and for all state his opinion on the matter of running for office. As he said in his open letter:

“I have, through all my life, pursued a policy of private politics. I seek to influence the vote of no man, and claim allegiance to no party. I have sought only to serve my country dutifully and diligently. I believe that I have carried out all of that with great honor and dignity. The late war has taken much from my family, my home and many friends and relatives. It is not my place to then steer the course of the nation, and I seek only to retire after a long career of good service. I state now and for posterity I shall not be a candidate in the 1867 election, and shall accept no nomination to office. To the people of the nation, as a humble servant, Robert E. Lee.”

When the news made the papers, it was as though a bomb had gone off in the collective parlors of the Southern elite. Other than idle speculation, none had seriously prepared for a campaign that November. Little beyond informal agreements existed between gentlemen regarding how they might pursue some national strategy. The lack of prepardness that Confederate political actors found themselves facing was something to behold. Without any party apparatus, it was doubtful anyone could pull together a coherent campaign.

That was where the political duo of Alexander Stephens and Robert Toombs stepped into the fray. The two Georgia politicians, one a small sickly man catapulted to the office of Vice President, the other a hard drinking, hard smoking and outspoken political agitator, seemed like unlikely friends. Yet they would work together first in the halls of Washington, and then again in Richmond. They proved to be a formidable duo, the softer spoken Alexander being a perfect match to Toombs hard charging rhetoric and confrontational style. Combined they had managed to dominate Georgia politics from afar throughout the War of Secession, and they aimed to use the election of 1867 as a platform to the presidency.

Like everyone else they too were caught off guard by Lee’s intent not to run. Toombs had not seriously been considering running against the old general, who as a Virginia gentleman and West Point graduate had represented everything Toombs despised, but now that the field was open, Toombs saw a chance to achieve what he felt he had been denied in 1861, the seat at the helm of power. To do so he would need a national movement, but his campaigning against President Davis during the war had given him a wealth of contacts to draw upon.

In his putative goal of reaching the presidency, he called in favors owed him from the war. He had campaigned on behalf of men like Robert Hunter of Virginia and Louis Wigfall of Texas, both of whom could be expected to endorse him for the presidential role. He courted men all over the South, but found his efforts to recruit supporters in Kentucky rebuffed, an occurrence he would find all across Tennessee as well as his persistent efforts to stall the governments intervention to help rebuild these states economies earned him a black reputation amongst the politicians there.

Stephens however, would use his position as Vice President to act, unofficially, as the campaign manager for Toombs in Richmond. Trusted and a known actor on all sides of the emerging political debates, Stephens could move freely between factions. The only place he held no sway was in the office of Jefferson Davis, who felt that Toombs was a traitor to his administration. However, that was just how Davis felt he might have one final act of revenge on Stephens, when he nudged his Secretary of War, John Breckinridge in the direction of the presidency.

Even at that period many had said that, aside from Lee himself, Breckinridge might be the one man who would be most suited to the presidency. He had been the Vice President in Buchanan’s administration, a long serving actor in both Kentucky state politics and the pre-war House, and then ran in an unsuccessful bid for the presidency in 1860. While he had opposed secession at first, he had thrown himself wholly to The Cause when war beckoned in 1861 and then led a successful command of his troops throughout the Western Theater. Though it had been political machinations that had hoisted him into the seat of the Confederate Secretary of War, he had done arguably the greatest service for the Confederacy in that office after 1863, running the war well to its conclusion. He had then navigated the herculean task of managing the post-war army in the wake of the Great Disorder.

Was there a name more known throughout the Confederacy?

Any sensible actor at the time would say no. Breckinridge did not immediately court the presidency like Toombs, but he did nothing to silence the rumors in the newspapers that he would throw his hat into the ring and run for the highest office in the land. It was Davis himself who first made the proclamation, seeming to carelessly say to the Richmond Enquirer that Breckinridge would seek the office of president, as he was no doubt well suited for it. That set off every scribbler in Richmond breaking the news in August. Soon every national newspaper was prematurely announcing Breckinridge’s presidential aspirations as Breckinridge would later allege “before I even knew them myself.”

With that, the campaign would begin. Without the party affiliations that had existed in the United States, both men would find themselves having to run what amounted to a letter campaign, seeking allies, endorsements, and most of all money, to plant themselves in the highest office of the Confederacy. It would be delicate work, but it was necessary as beneath them, supplicants and applicants jockeyed for position in what promised to be a difficult campaign to court the powers that be of the Confederacy…” - The Three Good Presidents, Edward Lee, University of Richmond, 1935