Part 11

Nathan Hale was a magnificent specimen of manhood. His physical and mental qualities were alike distinguished. He was graduated from Yale college with high honors and while there made a record as an athlete. He was almost six feet in height, perfectly proportioned, and, in the words of Dr. Munson, was “the most manly man I have ever met.” His chest was broad, his muscles firm; his face wore a most benign expression; his complexion was rosy; his eyes, light blue and beaming with intelligence; his hair soft and light brown and his speech low, sweet and musical. Is it any wonder that the girls of New Haven loved him and wept when they heard his fate?

Nathan Hale was engaged in teaching school at New London when the rumbles of the Revolution first began to disturb the placid life of that part of the country. On the day that American blood was first shed at Lexington a twilight town meeting was called and Nathan Hale was one of the speakers. He called upon the people to act at once and to act in a manner that could not be misunderstood.

“Let us march immediately,” he cried with all of the passionate ardor of youth, “and let us never lay down our arms until we have obtained our independence.”

As a proof of both his consistency and his patriotism, Hale immediately enrolled himself as a volunteer. The following morning he bade good-by to his pupils and departed for Cambridge. Before long he had been formally enlisted as a lieutenant of a company in a regiment commanded by Colonel Charles Webb, and late in September of that year marched with his regiment to Cambridge and participated in the siege of Boston. Within three months he had been commissioned as a captain because of vigilance and bravery. The British were driven from Boston in the spring of the following year, and soon after that the Americans proceeded to New York. His earnestness in the cause was proven when he surrendered his own pay to his men in the endeavor to have them prolong their term of service, which had already expired.

Even at this early stage of his military career he covered himself with glory by performing what proved to be one of the most daring feats of the Revolution. A British sloop laden with provisions was anchored in the East River under the protection of the guns of a man-of-war called the _Asia_. Hale went to General Heath and obtained permission to attempt the capture of the supply vessel. With a few dozen picked men as resolute as himself, he embarked in a small boat at midnight and reached the side of the sloop unobserved by the sentinel. The young New Englander followed by his men sprang aboard the vessel, secured the sentinel, confined the crew below the hatches, raised the boat’s anchor and took her into the wharf just at the dawn of day. It was a dashing adventure and it was successful. He was the hero of the hour, especially among his fellow Americans, when the supplies were distributed among them. For many months after this he continued the routine work of a captain in the Revolutionary Army, and it was not until the 7th of September that he was called upon to take part in the thrilling exploit which was to end in such a disastrous and tragic manner. Washington had called a council of war to decide whether he should defend or abandon New York. He had already asked Congress this important question and he was answered by a resolution that in case he should find it necessary to quit New York he should have special care taken that no damage be done to the city. As a result of this he resolved to remain and defend the city.

General Washington had at this time made his headquarters at the house of Robert Murray. The position of his army was exceedingly perilous, ships of war having already passed up the East River. Scouts reported great activity among the British troops, but they were unable, after great efforts, to gain any intelligent idea of the intentions of the enemy. Yet Washington knew that it was most essential that he should have this information. He wrote to General Heath, then staying at Kings Bridge.

“As everything in a manner depends upon intelligence of the enemy’s motions, I do most earnestly entreat you and General Clinton to exert yourselves to accomplish this most desirable thing. Leave no stone unturned nor do not stick at expense to bring this to pass, as I was never more uneasy than on account of my want of knowledge on this score. Keep a constant lookout with good glasses on some commanding heights that look well on to the other shore.”

What Washington desired to know more than anything else was whether the British would make a direct attack upon the city, and if they did whether they intended to land upon the island above the city or Morrisania, beyond the Harlem River. The general in his perplexity called another council of war at Murray’s. At this conference it was resolved to send some courageous and competent person in disguise into the British camps on Long Island. The person needed was one skilled in military and scientific knowledge and a good draftsman—in short a man on whose judgment and fidelity they could absolutely depend. In this emergency Washington sent for Lieutenant Colonel Noulton and told him just what he wanted. In response Noulton summoned a number of officers to a conference at his quarters and in the name of the commander-in-chief called for volunteers. They were taken by surprise. There was a general reluctance to engage in the work of a spy. For a time it looked as if it would be impossible to obtain a man for the service, but at the last moment a young soldier who had been ill entered the room and learning the nature of the request called out:

“I will undertake the work.”

It was Captain Nathan Hale. Everybody was amazed, not the least among them being Lieutenant Colonel Noulton. Some of the others, who knew and loved Hale, privately endeavored to persuade him to reconsider his decision. They pointed out his hopes for the future and explained the ignominy and death to which he might be exposed. One of his dearest friends, William Hull, who was afterwards a general in the War of 1812, and who was a member of his company and had been his classmate at college, was especially fervid in trying to turn him from the perilous task, but Hale had made up his mind and would not change it. He said with great warmth:

“Gentlemen, I am satisfied that I owe to my country the accomplishment of an object so important and so much desired by the commander of her armies, and I know of no mode of obtaining the information except by assuming a disguise and passing into the enemy’s camp. I am fully sensible of the consequences of discovery and capture in such circumstances, but for a year I have been attached to the army and have not rendered any material service, while receiving a compensation for which I made no return. Yet I am not influenced by any expectation of promotion or pecuniary reward. I wish to be useful; and every kind of service necessary for the public good becomes honorable by being necessary. If the exigencies of my country demand a peculiar service its claims to the performance of that service are imperious.”

These words, thrilling with their patriotism, silenced the objections of his fellow soldiers. That very afternoon in company with Noulton he appeared before Washington and received instructions concerning his mission. He was provided with the necessary authority and also given a general order to the owners of all American vessels to convey him to any point on Long Island which he might designate.

He left the camp on Harlem Heights that night accompanied by Sergeant Stephen Hempstead. With him also was his servant, Ansel Wright. It was not until they had reached Norwalk, fifty miles from New York, that they found a safe place to cross the Sound. Here Hale exchanged his regimentals for citizen’s dress of brown cloth and a broad brimmed round hat. He directed his two companions to remain there until his return and also deposited with Hempstead his uniform and his military commission. Hale crossed the Sound to Huntingdon Bay where he landed disguised in the character of schoolmaster and Royalist who was disgusted with the Rebel forces. He entered the British camps in this disguise and was received with much enthusiasm by the Redcoats, who accepted him as an ally. It is known that he visited all the British camps on Long Island and made observations openly; that he passed over from Brooklyn to New York City and that he gathered considerable information concerning the condition of the British army at that place. So far he had been entirely successful in his mission.

On his return he safely reached the point on the Long Island shore where he had first landed, and he prepared to recross the Sound at Norwalk the first thing in the following morning. He wore shoes with loose inner soles and between the soles he had concealed the drawings he made of the fortifications and also other memoranda written in Latin on thin paper. Perfectly satisfied that he was safe from harm and filled with the thought that his mission had ended successfully, he calmly awaited the coming of daylight. His attention was attracted by the proximity of an inn known as “The Cedars.” This place was managed by a widow who was a staunch Loyalist. It was well known as the resort of the Tories in that part of the country. Hale was familiar with these facts, but was not disturbed at the thought of any personal danger.

The light in the window of “The Cedars” attracted him. It was necessary that he should have refreshments and lodgings. He felt perfectly safe now, considering that he was far away from the danger zone, and besides felt that his simple attire would protect him from prying eyes. Accordingly he strolled into the tavern and secured a room for the night. After that he went to the main room and ordered supper. The place was fairly crowded and the entrance of Hale apparently attracted no attention.

He took his ease, supping leisurely and listening with interest to the gossip of the loungers about the room. “The Cedars” was notoriously a resort for Tories and the young American was forced to listen to some conversation which he surely did not relish. But he had a sense of humor as well as a philosophy of his own and the blatant talk of the so-called Royalists did not disturb the serenity of his disposition. Indeed, there is reason to believe that the romantic side of the young man was attracted by the novelty of the situation. “The Cedars” was a quaint old inn. The customary shingle, offering refreshments for “man and beast” swung outside in the wind; mine host with a long white apron served beer in great stone mugs, and the patrons of the place sprawled about the tables smoking long stemmed pipes. They talked of war and they talked of spies, little thinking that an American officer who was just finishing an important mission was listening to all they had to say.

In the midst of the hub-bub a stranger entered the room. He caught one glance of Nathan Hale and then turned his face with the suddenness of one who has made a startling discovery. The next moment Hale had looked up, but too late to get a good view of the man’s face. He caught the merest glance of the guilty countenance, and from that moment his mind was haunted with a resemblance which it was impossible to fix with any certainty. The newcomer was in civilian’s dress. He wore his hair long and was square-shouldered. He spoke to no one and disappeared as silently as he had entered.

There can be no doubt that he is the man who betrayed Hale to the British. But there has always been real doubt concerning his identity. It is hinted that Hale himself said that the fellow resembled a distant cousin. But there is nothing on record to prove this disagreeable suspicion. Indeed, from that moment, there seems to have been an attempt to conceal all of the facts concerning Hale’s dramatic arrest and tragic death. Can this have been part of the plan to protect the informer? Over one hundred and forty years have passed since then and history still asks the name of the man who entered “The Cedars” on that fateful night in September, 1775.

Nathan Hale spent the night at this tavern, and at daylight the next morning he went out to search for the boat that was to convey him to the other side of the Sound. To his immense satisfaction he saw a craft moving towards the shore with several men in it. He had not the least doubt but that they were his friends and he hastened to the beach in order to meet it. As the boat touched the shore a half dozen British marines jumped out and surrounded him. He turned as if to run when a harsh voice exclaimed:

“Surrender instantly, or you die!”

Too late he realized that he had walked into a trap. He saw six men standing there erect with muskets levelled at his heart. It was folly to struggle. He was seized, taken into the barge and conveyed to the British guardship _Halifax_. His captors stripped and searched him and found the evidence of his mission concealed between the soles of his shoes. The unfortunate American was taken in one of the boats of the _Halifax_ to General Howe’s headquarters, which were then in the mansion of James Beekman at Mount Pleasant. This place contained among other things a great greenhouse filled with shrubbery and plants. In this greenhouse Hale was confined under a strong guard on the night of September 21. The following morning he was taken before Howe, who, without the formality of a trial, condemned him to be hung. He was delivered into the custody of William Cunningham with orders that he should be executed before sunrise the following day.

History informs us that when Hale was taken before Howe he frankly acknowledged the purpose of his mission.

“I was present at the interview,” wrote a British officer, “and I observed that the frankness, the manly bearing and the evident disinterested patriotism of the young prisoner touched a tender cord in General Howe’s nature; but the stern rules of war concerning such offenses would not allow him to exercise even pity.”

It was on a Sunday morning that Nathan Hale was marched to the place of execution, which was in the vicinity of what is now East Broadway and Market Street. He was escorted by a file of soldiers and was permitted to sit in a tent while waiting for the necessary preparations for his death. The young patriot asked for a chaplain but his request was brutally denied. He asked for a Bible, but this also was refused. It was only at the solicitation of a young officer in whose tent Hale sat that he was allowed to write brief letters to his mother, sisters and the young girl to whom he was betrothed. She was Alice Adams, a native of Canterbury, Connecticut, and distinguished both for her intelligence and personal beauty. Who could imagine the feelings that filled the young patriot as he penned his final words to the girl who was pledged to be his wife.

But imagine the scene a moment later when these tender epistles were handed to Cunningham. That officer read them with growing anger. He became furious as he realized the noble spirit which breathed in every word. He resolved that they should not be given to the world, and with an oath tore them into bits before the face of his victim. It was twilight on that beautiful September morning when Hale was led to his execution. The gallows was the limb of an apple tree in Colonel Rutger’s orchard. The young martyr was asked if he had anything to say. He turned to his executioner and in a calm clear voice said:

“I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.”

His body was buried near the spot where he died and a British officer was sent to acquaint Washington with the fate of his young messenger. A rude stone placed by the side of the grave of his father in the burial ground of the Congregational Church in his native town for many years revealed to passersby the fact that it was “In Commemoration of Nathan Hale, Esquire, a Captain in the Army of the United States, who was Born June Sixth, 1755, and Received the First Honors of Yale College, September 17, 1773, and Resigned His Life a Sacrifice to His Country’s Liberty at New York, September 22, 1776, Age Twenty-two.”

Sixty years ago, long before there was a monument to the memory of Hale, George Gibbs, librarian of the New York Historical Society, wrote this epitaph, which is worthy of preservation:

STRANGER, BENEATH THIS STONE LIES THE DUST OF A SPY, WHO PERISHED UPON THE GIBBET; YET THE STORIED MARBLES OF THE GREAT, THE SHRINES OF HEROES, ENTOMBED ONE NOT MORE WORTHY OF HONOR THAN HIM WHO HERE SLEEPS HIS LAST SLEEP. NATIONS BOW WITH REVERENCE BEFORE THE DUST OF HIM WHO DIES A GLORIOUS DEATH, URGED ON BY THE SOUND OF THE TRUMPET AND THE SHOUTS OF ADMIRING THOUSANDS BUT WHAT REVERENCE, WHAT HONOR, IS NOT DUE TO ONE, WHO FOR HIS COUNTRY ENCOUNTERED EVEN AN INFAMOUS DEATH, SOOTHED BY NO SYMPATHY, ANIMATED BY NO PRAISE!

The simple narrative of Nathan Hale’s life and death effectively disposes of the tradition that he undertook his perilous mission reluctantly or that he had any scruples about essaying the rôle of a spy. He regarded that task as part of the day’s work—an unpleasant part to be sure, but one of the things that had to be cheerfully undertaken in the line of duty.

But there is one phase of the tragic business that is shrouded in mystery and it is the story of his betrayal. Who was the strange man in “The Cedars”? Was he a cousin? Was he a Tory? Do the descendants of that man still live in New York City and what must their feelings be when they read the inscription upon the monument to the young patriot and martyr?

Until these questions have been answered and until this mystery has been made clear the story of Nathan Hale will be incomplete.

XIV

MAJOR LE CARON AND THE FENIAN INVASION OF CANADA

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_.