the young captain was shocked and hurt to find that some of the men in
his own company were not willing to serve a little longer. Here is a
short, signed entry he made in his camp-book in November:
“28. Tuesday. Promised the men if they would tarry another month
they should have my wages for that time. NATHAN HALE.”
The youthful Connecticut officer and some of his men were among the few
who stayed till the British were driven out of Boston by sea. After this
the commander-in-chief, foreseeing that New York must be the next point
of attack for the British, sent all his soldiers on ahead to that city.
In the first brigade to go was Captain Nathan Hale, with as many of his
little company as he could command.
While officers like Hale were recruiting new soldiers and drilling the
raw recruits, Washington went to consult with the Congress then in
session at Philadelphia. During this visit he designed the first
American flag and ordered it made. It was the summer of the Declaration
of Independence.
Washington and his untrained troops, less than fourteen thousand in
number, had to defend and hold New York City, Brooklyn, and the
surrounding country against an army nearly three times as large. The
British troops under General Howe were well fitted out and trained, and
were aided by a fleet of warships commanded by the general’s brother,
Admiral Lord Howe. The Howes and their regular soldiers thought it would
be an easy matter for their army, numbering three to one of their
enemies, to capture the American army and carry Washington and the other
ring-leaders of the rebellion back to England to be hanged for treason.
When, late in August, Washington learned that Howe was landing his army
on Long Island from Staten Island, he sent General Putnam to meet and
hold the British back. As the British outnumbered Putnam’s company five
to one, this was impossible, and the Americans retreated to their
defenses. This engagement was called the battle of Long Island. At
nightfall the British encamped around the cornered Americans, and the
commander told his staff that they would take that “nest of rebels” in
the morning.
A dense fog came in from the sea, and Washington, under cover of it, got
as many boats together as his sailor soldiers could manage, and they
rowed away from Long Island in the silent watches of the night. Next
morning, when Howe came to capture the nest, the birds had flown.
Washington was now forced to fly with his army from place to place, and
the danger of being captured was greater than before. So he needed to
learn, if possible, what General Howe’s plans were. Captain Nathan Hale
was selected for this dangerous service.
There were some people in the colonies who believed that Washington was
a traitor and that his men were rebels. These people called themselves
Loyalists, but others called them Tories. Because of Nathan Hale’s frank
face and sincere manner it was thought that he could make friends with
these Tories and find out what was desired through them and their
friends, the British officers. Also, he was an educated gentleman. He
could take a position as tutor in the family of a rich Tory. British
officers visited these Loyalists and often discussed plans with them.
Captain Hull, a college friend of Captain Hale’s, was now an army
comrade also. When he heard that Hale was chosen, he called to beg him
not to go as a spy. He argued:
“Your nature is too frank and open for deceit and disguise. General
Washington--nor any commander--has a right to ask you to assume the garb
of friendship for the betrayal of others.”
Hale hesitated a moment at this, but when he spoke his voice was clear
and firm:
“I think I owe it to my country to do the thing which seems so important
to General Washington, and I know of no other way of getting the desired
information than by assuming a disguise and passing into the enemy’s
camp.”
“But,” urged his friend almost in despair, “think of the disgrace of it!
If you were caught, you would be hanged as a criminal! Dear Nathan, I
beg of you, don’t go.”
Nathan Hale could not help being deeply moved. He said gently: “He took
upon himself the disguise of the men He came to live among, for the good
of many and the cause of the right. He was arrested and hanged--on a
cross! Who am I that I should set up my judgment against His example and
General Washington’s will?”
Still, Captain Hull could not give up. He has left on record his last
attempt to persuade the young man whose love of country had become a
religion: “I urged him for the love of country, for the love of kindred,
to abandon an enterprise which would only end in the sacrifice of the
dearest interests of both. He paused--then, affectionately taking my
hand, he said, ‘I _will_ reflect, and _do nothing but what duty
demands_.’ He was absent from the army and I feared he had gone to the
British lines to execute his fatal purpose.”
Naturally very little is known of the spy in the few weeks that
followed. Sergeant Hempstead has told of going with him to the point
chosen for crossing on a waiting sloop to Long Island, many miles from
the British camp. Hempstead says Hale was then “dressed in a brown suit
of citizen’s clothes, with a round, broad-brimmed hat.” When the captain
and the sergeant wrung each other’s hands in farewell, Nathan Hale gave
into Hempstead’s care his private papers and letters and his
shoe-buckles. The letters were to Hale’s aged father and to the girl
whom he expected to marry.
At the end of several weeks Nathan Hale had succeeded in carrying out
General Washington’s instructions, even to making a number of sketches.
So far as he knew, he had not been suspected. This, he thought, was
rather surprising, for there were Tories everywhere.
It was late in September, “in the dark of the moon,” when Hale slipped
away from the British on Long Island and strolled down to the water’s
edge where he was to meet the sloop and sail back to his own army. He
waited some time for the ship, but it did not come. After some delay a
sailboat came in sight and made up to the shore. He was greatly
relieved, for it did not occur to him that there was anything wrong. As
the boat drew near he hailed it with a happy shout. When it was too
late, Hale saw that some of the men in the boat were in British uniform.
In a moment more, he was their prisoner. He had been betrayed--it was
never known by whom. He had a Tory cousin who was blamed at first, but
his innocence was proven in time.
[Illustration: THE LAST WORDS OF CAPTAIN NATHAN HALE, THE HERO-MARTYR OF
THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION
_From the painting by F. O. C. Darley_]
He was taken to General Howe’s headquarters. The telltale sketches and
data were found in his shoes. He did not attempt to deny that he was a
spy. It was not necessary to try him after he confessed. He was turned
over to the provost marshal to be hanged next day.
Of course, no one knows what Nathan Hale thought that last night, but it
may well be believed that he did not waste his last hours in despairing
regrets. If he was permitted to write farewell letters that night, they
were never delivered. In the morning Hale asked if he might speak with a
minister, but that was curtly denied him. “Will you lend me a Bible a
moment, then?” was his dying request. “No!” snapped the marshal.
A kind-hearted British officer, who noticed the pure, honest face of the
young American spy, offered him shelter from the sun in his tent during
a brief delay. The heart of this enemy captain was touched, and it was
he who preserved Nathan Hale’s noble words for future ages. If the young
spy could have known that his death would strengthen the hearts of
patriots to fight for liberty, and that what he was about to say would
go resounding down the ages, it would have added to his joy that hot
September day. A poet has described the moment when they came and led
him out:
“To drum-beat and heart-beat
A soldier marches by;
There is color in his cheek,
There is courage in his eye;
Yet to drum-beat and heart-beat,
In a moment he must die.”
They led him to an apple tree near at hand. While they were fastening
his arms behind him and tying a rope around his ankles, he gazed up into
the tree. On his handsome face rested the resigned expression which is
shown in the bronze and marble statues of Nathan Hale in the Yale yard
where he used to play, and in the park before City Hall, in New York.
“Well, have you any confession to make?” asked the marshal. This called
Nathan Hale’s mind back. He smiled at the needless question, for he had
confessed the night before and had thus made a trial unnecessary.
Hesitating only a moment, he answered the officer with simple courtesy,
in the bravest words ever uttered by mortal man:
“_I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country._”
LAFAYETTE, THE BOY HERO OF TWO WORLDS
In a great stone building among the tree-covered hills in the south of
France there lived a little boy who at birth received fourteen names and
titles. He belonged to the noble French family of the Lafayettes, who
had been knights for at least seven hundred years. The boy never saw his
father, for shortly before the child was born, his brave young soldier
father was killed in a battle with the English. The home in which this
fatherless boy lived was a castle, but it looked like a great prison or
a modern storage warehouse with a huge, round tower at each end. Across
its few small windows were iron bars.
Out of all the Lafayette boy’s names, the family called him Gilbert.
When he was eleven years old Gilbert was sent to a school in Paris where
sons from French gentlemen’s families were taught the things it was
thought proper for young nobles to know. First of all, they studied
heraldry, which explained the coats-of-arms of their royal and noble
relations and was really a sort of family history of France. The boys
also learned to ride and to fence and to talk politely--even wittily, if
they happened to be bright enough. Besides their own French language
they learned Latin so that they could write and even speak it. Then the
youths who had a taste for history were instructed in that study, not
the history of the whole French people, but the records of the royal and
great families, and the battles and schemes of the kings and princes.
In this boys’ college the rooms were very small, dark, and narrow, like
prison cells, and the pupils were locked in at night. Gilbert was never
allowed a holiday. If his mother came to see him she was permitted to
talk with him in the presence of a tutor, almost as if he were a
prisoner. The masters feared that a good, motherly chat with her son
would distract the boy’s mind from his studies.
Madame de Lafayette wished to do all she could to help her son in his
future life. So she moved to Paris and was presented at court; that is,
she was introduced to the king and queen and the highest nobles of
France. When Gilbert was thirteen his mother died, leaving her son
almost alone in the world. He had a rich uncle who might have been his
guardian, but he also died, leaving young Lafayette another fortune and
making him a very wealthy marquis.
Boys and girls in French noble families were often betrothed in infancy
and brought up expecting to marry each other when old enough. Marriage
seemed to be rather a question of the family fortunes than of the young
people’s real love for each other. When young Marquis de Lafayette was
left without parents to plan a proper marriage for him, a rich duke who
was a great favorite with King Louis decided to arrange for the orphan
boy to marry his own daughter Adrienne. In order to bring this about,
Adrienne’s parents invited Gilbert de Lafayette to come and live in
their palace, where they all could care for him as a son until it was
proper for him to marry their daughter. There was a wonderful wedding
when Lafayette was sixteen and Adrienne fourteen years old.
From that time, besides all the wealth of the Lafayettes, the riches of
his father-in-law, the duke, gave the young marquis a splendid position
at the court of France. If the boy bridegroom only had enjoyed that sort
of high life he might have been very happy. But the things which
interested the young nobleman were of quite a different sort. While he
was at a dinner, in honor of a younger brother of George the Third, king
of England, he heard that the American people had started their fight
for independence. Lafayette’s sympathies for the unhappy people across
the sea were so aroused that he began at once to plan to leave his
palace home, his lovely young wife, and his baby daughter, in order to
help the American people in their struggle. To find out how best to do
this, he went to see Dr. Franklin and Silas Deane, the agents for the
United States in France. Knowing how much the American people needed
Lafayette’s money and influence, these statesmen encouraged him in every
way.
The young marquis fitted out a ship and made ready to start, taking with
him several Frenchmen of high rank who also expected to be made officers
in the American Army. But Lafayette’s father-in-law did not relish the
youth’s idea of fighting for the common people against kings and nobles,
so he persuaded the king to order the marquis not to leave the country.
In spite of King Louis’s command, Lafayette walked on board his own
ship, under the detectives’ noses, disguised as the bodyservant of a
stranger from another country who also was going to fight for American
liberty.
The Marquis de Lafayette reached the American army, near Philadelphia,
after many dangers and hardships. General Washington could not help
smiling at the earnestness of “Major-General” Lafayette, aged nineteen,
who could command only as much of the English language as he had learned
while crossing the Atlantic. Though “the Marquis,” as everyone learned
to call him, volunteered to serve anywhere without pay, Washington
offered him a place on his staff. Once when the commander-in-chief asked
Lafayette how to improve the discipline of the American troops, the
noble youth replied, “I am here, General, to learn, not to teach.”
[Illustration: GENERAL LAFAYETTE WOUNDED AT THE BATTLE OF BRANDYWINE.]
General Lafayette received his first wound in the Battle of Brandywine,
where he fought hard to keep the British back from Philadelphia. While
riding his horse at the head of his men he was shot in the leg. He
recovered from this wound in time to come to Valley Forge and suffer
with Washington the hardships of the long, bitter winter there.
While at Valley Forge the young general was sent to keep the British
from coming out from Philadelphia and attacking the American camp.
Lafayette took his station at Barren Hill near the Schuylkill River.
When the British commander had word of this he sent out three companies
to surround the boy general from three directions, and make him their
prisoner. So sure were they of making this capture that they planned a
dinner in honor of their noble French prisoner, and invited their
friends in Philadelphia to be present and meet the Marquis de Lafayette.
But the boy general was too shrewd for them all. Quick as a flash he saw
a way out of the trap they had set for him. Ordering the heads of his
columns to stand in the edge of a grove where they could be seen as if
in battle array, he ordered a retreat by a secret path. When the three
British lines marched up the hill, even the Americans in the edge of the
woods had disappeared, and the companies only met one another and looked
sheepish as they marched down again. Their game had gotten away, and
they had to eat that dinner without their prisoner-guest.
Howe and his men soon heard that the French were sending ships and men
to help their American friends, so they went away from Philadelphia as
quickly as possible. On the way to New York, Washington met them and
gave battle at Monmouth, New Jersey. He appointed General Lafayette
second in command; but General Charles Lee was offended because “that
French boy” was placed above him. To relieve his chief, Lafayette gave
up the command. This was the battle in which Lee disobeyed Washington’s
command and prevented the American army from winning a real victory. It
was Lafayette who saw that something was going wrong and helped to save
the day for the Americans.
Hearing of his wife’s illness and his little daughter’s death, Lafayette
asked leave of absence to go home to France. He returned to America as
soon as he could, after persuading the French government to send more
money, more men, and more ships to help bring the long war with England
to an end. Soon after his return, “the Marquis” was sent with his
regiment to meet Cornwallis and defend Virginia.
Cornwallis laughed when he saw that “the Boy” had been sent against him.
But “the Boy” was more than a match for the British commander in the
south. He kept retreating and advancing up and down the James River. One
day Cornwallis would think he was trapping Lafayette, but the next day
he found himself only moving farther from his base of supplies. “The
Boy” did this just to gain time, for he had learned that the expected
fleet was in American waters with a French army on board, and that
Washington was on his way down from near New York to meet the French
ships and men and surround Cornwallis. It was now the British general’s
turn to retreat. He retired to Yorktown, where he was surrounded by the
Americans and French and was soon forced to surrender.
As soon as the fighting was ended, General Washington gave a dinner to
the French officers and their English prisoner, Lord Cornwallis. The
defeated general was so well treated by Washington and his men that the
two commanders became good friends.
When the Americans had gained their independence, General Lafayette
returned to France, where he was received as a hero, even by the king
whose command he had disobeyed by running away to help America. The
people were so fond of the brave young marquis, that King Louis
appointed him a marshal of France, though he was only twenty-four.
The French Revolution soon broke out, but it was very different from the
American Revolution, because the people of France had the wrong idea of
liberty. They killed the king, the queen, and many of the nobles in a
savage and cruel way. They even imprisoned and put to death some of
their early leaders, who loved liberty, but who were not willing to do
such savage deeds to obtain it. Lafayette was one of the lovers of
liberty who suffered much from the French people during the Revolution,
because he did not believe in going to extremes.
Washington and Lafayette did not forget each other. They wrote devoted
letters to each other as if they were father and son. The French
nobleman named his son for Washington, who, during the troublous years
in France, received and cared for the boy as if he were a grandson.
Nearly fifty years after Lafayette’s first coming to America, he made
his fourth voyage to our country, bringing with him his son, George
Washington de Lafayette. He came, at the invitation of President Monroe
and Congress, as the guest of the United States. Because of the
enthusiasm with which he was welcomed all over the country, his visit
was remembered as one of the brightest times in the history of the
United States.
One hundred and forty years after the Marquis de Lafayette’s first
coming to help America, four millions of American young men were
enrolled to rescue republican France from her brutal enemy. A million
soldiers had crossed the ocean, and another million were on their way
when a company of Americans visited the last resting-place of Lafayette.
As they laid a wreath upon the tomb of the “Friend of America,” General
Pershing, the commander of the American forces, exclaimed, “Lafayette,
we are here!”
THE IMMORTAL REPLY OF JOHN PAUL JONES
Of the millions of boys who have had “sea fever,” perhaps none suffered
with it more than John Paul, a bright, sandy-haired Scotch lad. His
father was a gardener on the estate of a noble lord. John went to school
but little, yet he studied hard while he was there. He had learned to
sail a boat quite well when he had a chance, at twelve years old, to go
to America as a cabin boy. When the owner of the ship soon after failed
in business, John Paul entered the Royal Navy as a midshipman. He
learned all he could in the short time he was a “middy,” but, as his
father was poor, he saw no chance to get ahead there.
He left the navy and found work on a merchant ship running between
Scotland and the West Indies. Coming back from a voyage to Jamaica, the
ship’s captain and mate both died, and John Paul, though still a mere
boy, sailed the ship home. So he became a captain before he was twenty.
In those days, shipmasters treated their men roughly, and once young
Captain Paul had to flog the ship’s carpenter. The man died some time
afterward of fever, and, to spite the young shipmaster, he claimed that
he had been fatally injured by John Paul’s cruelty. After that, on
another voyage, the sailors mutinied or turned against their captain,
and tried to kill him. In self-defense the young master knocked the
leader down stairs and he died of the fall.
The next time John Paul was heard from, he was living in America with a
wealthy man named Jones. It was just at the beginning of the War for
Independence, and the young Scotchman was so in love with liberty and
the new country that he decided to become an American. In doing this he
took the name of his new-found friend Jones. Instead of John Paul, the
British subject, he now called himself Paul Jones, American. He went to
the Congress in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, in May, 1775, to offer
his services. He was promptly given command of several ships to defend
the colonies against Great Britain. The next year the Declaration of
Independence was signed. On the 14th of June, 1777, the Congress
appointed him to the command of the American ship-of-war, _Ranger_. On
the same day the Congress adopted a flag and made this record:
“_Resolved_, That the flag of the thirteen United States be
thirteen stripes, alternate red and white, and that the union be
thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new
constellation.”
Captain Paul Jones had a silk flag made at once and raised it on the
_Ranger_, on the first birthday of the United States, July 4th, 1777.
The first voyage of this ship was to France, and the young United States
captain announced to the French admiral, in the harbor he was about to
enter, that he would expect the French fleet to salute the new American
flag. After some delay, the French officer consented and the _Ranger_
sailed into port between two rows of French ships-of-war, which had
French flags flying, and French sailors and soldiers manning the
yardarms, and cannon booming all along the line, in honor of the Stars
and Stripes. That was a great day for the United States, for this was
the first time a foreign kingdom recognized the new republic of America.
France not only treated the United States as an equal, but she went to
war with England and helped the Americans win their independence.
Captain Jones was a little, peppery man, and had been an American only
two years, but he was trying to make up for lost time. He believed so
much in the people’s right to be free, that he considered being an
American citizen the highest honor in the world. He begged the high
French officials and Doctor Franklin, who represented the United States
in France, to let him take the _Ranger_ out and fight England all by
himself. The British had taken American prisoners and treated them as
spies and traitors, instead of as prisoners of war. Captain Jones wished
to capture some British prisoners and teach the enemy how prisoners of
war should be treated.