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The World’s Greatest Military
Spies and Secret Service Agents
[Illustration: THE CAPTURE OF MAJOR ANDRÉ (_See page 67_)]
_The_ WORLD’S
GREATEST
MILITARY
SPIES _and_
Secret Service Agents
By GEORGE BARTON
Illustrated
[Illustration]
THE PAGE COMPANY
BOSTON * MDCCCCXVIII
_Copyright, 1917, by_
THE PAGE COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, October, 1917
Second Impression, July, 1918
TO
WILLIAM J. FLYNN
CHIEF OF
THE UNITED STATES SECRET SERVICE
WHOSE UNTIRING EFFORTS
RID THIS COUNTRY OF FOREIGN SPIES
DURING THE WORLD’S GREATEST WAR
INTRODUCTION
The romance of war in its most thrilling form is exemplified in this
narrative of the adventures of “The World’s Greatest Military Spies and
Secret Service Agents.” Much has been published upon the subject of
espionage, and the memoirs and secret histories of the courts of Europe
give us instances of men and women who have gained favor and money, if
not honor and glory, by selling back-stairs gossip concerning their
fellow creatures; but the aim of the present work has been rather to
relate the big exploits of those who faced great personal danger and
risked their lives for the sake of flag and country.
Each story is complete in itself, and yet forms a link in the chain
of narratives which illustrates the startling and unexpected manner
in which battles have been lost and won through the shrewdness and
the courage of military spies at various times in different countries
of the world. All spies are not admirable. Indeed, some whose deeds
are herein related seem despicable. The use of the word “spy” in this
series is in its broadest, and usually its best, sense. In all of
the great wars of history there have been spies, scouts, emissaries
and others still with no very well defined status, who have rendered
invaluable service to their governments. A spy is liable to death;
a scout, if captured, has the rights of a prisoner of war, but an
emissary is rather political than military, and is sent to influence
secretly the opposition rather than to bring information concerning the
movements of troops.
There are spies and spies. Just where the line is to be drawn must
depend largely upon the personal view-point of the reader. Some of
those who have been engaged in hazardous military exploits are looked
upon as among the world’s greatest heroes; others who have abused the
hospitality of their entertainers in order to betray them have earned
never-ending obloquy. Everything depends upon the circumstances and
the point of view. Human nature has been the same in all ages. We are
disposed to justify and glorify the military spy who risks his life for
our own country and our own cause, and to condemn and abuse the one who
is enlisted in the service of the enemy.
Generally speaking, there is a natural repugnance to the professional
spy in times of war, who is regarded as akin to the paid informer in
times of peace. But the tendency is to applaud the real soldier who is
willing to depart from the strict lines of military duty in order to
serve his country. Napoleon, who can scarcely be called a scrupulous
man, even by his most ardent admirers, refused to bestow the medal of
honor on his chief spy. “Money, as much as you like,” he exclaimed,
“but the cross—never!”
At the time of the capture of Emilio Aguinaldo by the late
Brigadier-General Frederick Funston a question arose regarding the
ethics of the means employed by some of the members of the troops
under his command on that occasion. It arose in a lecture before the
law class at the University of the Philippines. Justice Carson, of
the Supreme Court, was asked to enlighten the students on this point.
Instead of doing so, he wrote and asked General Funston’s view of
the matter. The reply of the American soldier may be accepted as the
authorized military view of the question. General Funston wrote:
“In a nutshell, the legal status of all those engaged in the expedition
referred to was that of spies, and as such they could not have claimed
immunity from the usual fate of spies. While we were not disguised for
the purpose of obtaining information, the fact that we penetrated the
enemy’s lines under false colors would have justified treating us as
such.
“Having acknowledged that our status was that of Spies, I wish to call
attention to a popular, erroneous belief that spies are violators of
the laws of war simply because they are spies and in disguise. It is
safe to say that there never has been a war in which both sides did not
use spies; in fact, the principal military nations use them in time
of peace. Spies are punished, not because there is anything morally
reprehensible in their work, but because it is desired to make their
occupations so dangerous that it will be difficult to find men to
undertake the risks involved.
“The status of the spy in our own history cannot better be shown than
in the fact that Nathan Hale, the spy of our own Revolution, whose
impressive statue stands in New York and whose last words on the
gallows were: ‘My chief regret is that I have but one life to give for
my country,’ is one of the greatest of our national heroes.
“Washington has been regarded always as one of the most scrupulous of
men, but he did not hesitate to hold as a prisoner the British general
Prescott, captured by Colonel Barton of the Rhode Island militia and a
few men, all disguised as non-combatants, who penetrated the British
lines under false colors.
“Although the use of spies is not a violation of the laws of war, there
are certain acts that are recognized as such and may be punished by
death: The violation of the flag of truce; breaking a truce; violation
of parole; the use of poison; killing of prisoners of war to prevent
their recapture, and hoisting the hospital flag over a place not a
hospital. But all these imply moral obliquity, and I have never heard
of any one being rewarded or having a monument erected to him for
having been guilty of any one of them.
“The Filipinos are about the last people in the world who can question
the ethics of entering the enemy’s lines in disguise. As a veteran of
the war you know that, disguised as non-combatants, their officers and
soldiers are among us all the time, and that if we had enforced the law
strictly relative to spies we would have been hanging men all the time.”
The halo of romance hovers in a special manner over women spies, and
it is interesting to note that the United States furnishes the most
conspicuous examples of this class in the persons of Belle Boyd, the
Confederate girl who saved Stonewall Jackson; and Emma Edmonds, the
Union spy, whose adventures could scarcely be duplicated in the
pages of fiction. The story of a third American woman is related in
this volume—Lydia Darrah, the gentle and brave Quakeress who saved
Washington’s army from destruction. She was not a spy in the accepted
sense of the word, and it would be impossible to imagine a greater
contrast than is presented between the colonial girl and the two women
of the Civil War, but the service she rendered the young and struggling
nation cannot be overestimated.
A book of this character would not be complete without the stories of
Nathan Hale and Major André, the American and the Briton, each young
and gallant, and each giving up his life for his country. In a general
way, their exploits are familiar, yet it may be found that a new light
has been turned upon certain phases of the sacrifices which they both
so cheerfully made for the causes they represented.
An effort has been made to confine this work to the operations of
military spies, but in possibly two instances the rule has been
relaxed in order to present phases of that form of diplomacy which is
so closely allied with war as to be part of it. Most of the incidents
are interwoven with the history of the countries to which they relate,
and are part of the archives of the State, War and Navy Departments
of these nations. Taken all in all, the pages of fiction contain few
things more fascinating or thrilling than these fact stories.
G. B.
CONTENTS
PAGE
I THE ALSATIAN SMUGGLER WHO HELPED NAPOLEON TO CAPTURE THE
AUSTRIAN ARMY 3
II BELLE BOYD, THE CONFEDERATE GIRL WHO SAVED STONEWALL
JACKSON 21
III THE INDIAN SCOUT WHO WAS THE HERO OF KING PHILIP’S WAR 35
IV HOW THE SUICIDE OF A STAFF OFFICER ONCE AVERTED WAR BETWEEN
AUSTRIA AND RUSSIA 51
V THE ROMANTIC SIDE OF MAJOR ANDRÉ’S UNSUCCESSFUL EXPLOIT 63
VI THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF THE CHEVALIER D’EON AT THE RUSSIAN
COURT 79
VII HOW NAPOLEON’S CHIEF SPY HOODWINKED THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 95
VIII LYDIA DARRAH, THE BRAVE QUAKERESS WHO SAVED WASHINGTON’S
ARMY FROM DESTRUCTION 111
IX DOCTOR STEIBER AND THE MYSTERY OF THE FRANCO-PRUSSIAN WAR 129
X THE ADVENTURE OF PRIVATE MORGAN IN THE CAMP OF CORNWALLIS 145
XI THE MYSTERIOUS AND ROMANTIC CASE OF GENERAL NAPPER TANDY 159
XII HOW MONSIEUR DE MEINAU HELPED TO MAKE JEROME BONAPARTE KING
OF WESTPHALIA 175
XIII THE STRANGE MYSTERY SURROUNDING THE BETRAYAL OF CAPTAIN
NATHAN HALE 189
XIV MAJOR LE CARON AND THE FENIAN INVASION OF CANADA 205
XV HOW EMMA EDMONDS PENETRATED THE CONFEDERATE LINES 223
XVI THE AMAZING ADVENTURE OF BRIGADIER-GENERAL LAFAYETTE C.
BAKER 243
XVII THE MYSTERIOUS “F” AND THE CAPTURED TROOPERS 273
XVIII THE MYSTERIOUS MAN WHO ASKED FOR A LIGHT 293
XIX CARL LODY AND SPIES OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST WAR 309
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THE CAPTURE OF MAJOR ANDRÉ. (_See page 67_) _Frontispiece_
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 6
BELLE BOYD 22
KING PHILIP, OR METACOMET 44
THE MEETING BETWEEN BENEDICT ARNOLD AND MAJOR ANDRÉ 66
THE CHEVALIER D’EON 83
LYDIA DARRAH AND LIEUTENANT-COLONEL CRAIG 118
PRINCE VON BISMARCK 135
GENERAL LAFAYETTE 148
GENERAL NAPPER TANDY 170
CAPTAIN NATHAN HALE 200
MAJOR LE CARON (THOMAS BEACH) 206
BRIGADIER-GENERAL LAFAYETTE C. BAKER 243
MAJOR-GENERAL J. E. B. STUART 285
JOHN E. WILKIE 294
WILLIAM J. FLYNN 317
The World’s Greatest Military Spies and Secret Service Agents
I
THE ALSATIAN SMUGGLER WHO HELPED NAPOLEON TO CAPTURE THE AUSTRIAN ARMY
This is the story of a thrilling episode in the life of a man who
has been called the Prince of Spies. His name was Charles Louis
Schulmeister and he played a most invaluable part in building the
fame of no less a person than Napoleon Bonaparte. What the greatest
military genius of his time might have accomplished without the aid of
his wonderfully effective secret service system must be left to the
imagination. What he actually did with the assistance of Charles Louis
Schulmeister and his associates is one of the most fascinating parts of
the secret archives of France and Austria.
First a word concerning the life and personality of this famous
military spy. He was a native of an Alsatian village—New Freistell
in the Grand Duchy of Baden, on the right bank of the Rhine. He was
an adventurous boy and his early life was filled with hair-raising
escapades. It was the most natural thing in the world for such a youth
to develop into a smuggler and for years he followed that calling to
the dismay of the authorities and to the advantage of his personal
fortunes.
Schulmeister was of medium build, brusque in his manner and movements,
smooth-faced and with two ugly scars on his forehead, the result of
bravery in battle. He had blue eyes, clear, penetrating and unwavering.
He was quick to think and prompt to execute; shrewd, smart and full of
courage and resolution. Also, Schulmeister was absolutely devoid of the
sense of fear.
In 1805 Napoleon was at Strassburg planning his wonderful Austrian
campaign. His camp at Boulogne was marvelous and its size calculated
to strike terror into the heart of the enemy. But the Corsican did not
propose to move until he was fully informed of the extent and character
of the forces he would be called upon to meet. He wanted a shrewd and
tried man in the camp of the enemy. In this emergency he sent for
General Savery, the head of the French Secret Service, and informed him
of his desire. The officer saluted.
“Sire, I have the very man you need for this mission.”
Savery, who was not particularly noted for his scrupulousness, had
a score of fearless men at his beck and call, and not the least of
them was Charles Louis Schulmeister. The Alsatian smuggler had been
on Savery’s staff for years, and had performed delicate missions with
great success. The moment Napoleon spoke Savery decided to employ
Schulmeister for this latest dangerous mission. He had the young
Alsatian brought to him and informed him of the Emperor’s wishes.
“The Emperor wishes to see you personally and at once,” he said.
Schulmeister was skeptical. He rubbed his brawny hand across the scars
on his forehead:
“You are having sport with me.”
“Not at all,” was the vehement rejoinder. “The Emperor wishes to see
you on a matter of great importance. Be prepared to meet him at any
moment.”
The Alsatian sat down and awaited the summons, but not without some
trepidation. He recalled the lawless career he had pursued, prior to
his military service, and he wondered if he was called to give an
account of his misdeeds. Yet the Great Man of Destiny would scarcely
waste his time on such secondary and trivial matters. Possibly he had
been misrepresented to the Emperor. In that event he would truly have
reason to shake in his boots, for Napoleon made short shrift of those
whose loyalty was not absolutely unquestioned.
But with that phase of the business Schulmeister straightened out his
shoulders and was filled with resolution. He knew that he had been
faithful to Napoleon and France; whatever other defects there might be
in his character—and they were many and serious—disloyalty was not one
of them. As to meeting the great man—pshaw! that was but part of the
day’s work.
“Schulmeister, come forward!”
This command from an officer awakened the young Alsatian from his day
dreams. He was being conducted to the presence of the man whose name
was already reverberating around the world. He followed closely on the
heels of the messenger, wondering why he had been summoned and how he
should act. Before he could map out any coherent line of conduct he
realized that he was in the headquarters of the Emperor.
Schulmeister looked about him quickly and for the moment was confused.
The place was filled with staff officers wearing glittering uniforms
and talking in low but animated tones. Which of these could be the
Emperor? He looked for the most impressive uniform but was not
enlightened. Presently his glance fell upon a man short in stature, but
well formed and resolute in his manner. He was apart from the others
and restlessly paced up and down the narrow limits of the apartment.
He wore a long gray coat over a plain uniform. He turned around
unexpectedly and moved out of the mass of gorgeously uniformed men. The
Alsatian recognized him at once.
It was Napoleon.
[Illustration: NAPOLEON BONAPARTE]
At first the Emperor’s smooth face, firmly set jaw and rigid mouth
seemed to portend a storm. But as his eyes rested on the young man
he smiled charmingly and engagingly. The glance that he shot at his
visitor was at once ardent and penetrating. He placed his hand on
Schulmeister’s shoulder.
“You are an Alsatian?”
“Yes, sire.”
“You look like a brave man—a man who will risk his life for France.”
“Willingly,” was the quick response.
After that the Man of Destiny and the former smuggler sat down and
planned the scheme by which the Emperor was to gain the information
he desired concerning the position, the extent and the prospective
movements of the enemy. Schulmeister, while not particularly educated,
was exceptionally quick witted. It has been said that he was as “sharp
as a steel trap” and that is the impression he made on the Emperor, for
Napoleon afterwards spoke glowingly of the spy to General Savery, his
aide-de-camp.
The result of the campaign that had been planned was to have a marked
effect upon the future of the “Little Corporal,” as the idolizing
soldiers insisted upon calling their chief. The Emperor accompanied the
spy to the door of his headquarters, and as he left called after him:
“Don’t fail me!”
Schulmeister hastened away and the thing that he remembered most of
all was the figure of the little man in the long gray coat, waving his
short arm and calling out that message of warning and of confidence.
Who shall say that this day was not to mark the beginning of the
founding of the great Napoleonic empire?
Time is everything!
Napoleon had said this often and his faithful servitor learned it by
heart. He had a brief interview with General Savery, and the next
moment started on his mission. The expected happened—the thing he
wished to happen—the incident that was necessary in order to set the
little drama in motion.
He was arrested by the French police on the charge of espionage and
hustled by them to the frontier. It is impossible, if not indiscreet,
to admit too many persons into one’s confidence. The officers who had
made the arrest were ardent Frenchmen as well as faithful policemen,
and they did not treat the young Alsatian any too tenderly. In fact,
he received more cuffs and kicks than he liked. But he took them all
unresistingly and even smiled when he was given a final push and sent
headlong into the camp of the Austrians.
They received him with open arms, and when he told them a cock-and-bull
story of his adventures in the French camp, nothing would do but that
he must enter the Secret Service of the Austrian Army. Such a valuable
man was not to be lost.
The news of this was taken to the short man in the long gray coat, and
as he paced up and down amidst his brilliantly uniformed officers he
was heard to give vent to a chuckle—the sort of a chuckle one expects
from a man whose plans are working precisely as he wished.
In the meantime Schulmeister settled down to business in earnest. He
gained the acquaintance and then the friendship of two very important
men. One was Captain Wend of the Austrian Secret Service, and the other
Lieutenant Bendel, aide-de-camp to General Kienmayer. In this, as in
all else, he had followed the advice of his Corsican superior. With
him, as with the greater man, time was “everything.”
A less audacious man would have hesitated about approaching such
officers as Wend and Bendel; a less courageous man would have feared
it, and a less imaginative man would never have thought of it. But
Schulmeister had audacity, courage and imagination. He unbosomed
himself to these two men, he pointed out the possibilities of the
future and he painted the glories and the rewards of the Napoleonic
empire.
In less than twenty-four hours Captain Wend and Lieutenant Bendel had
become his allies, and thereafter worked with him hand and glove.
The next necessary move was to obtain the confidence of the higher
Austrian officers and to find out their plans. He was able to do this
with the assistance of Captain Wend and Lieutenant Bendel.
The Allies had a great body of soldiers in the field. The chief figure
was Field Marshal Baron Mack, who had 90,000 splendidly equipped and
well trained men under his command. His army formed the right wing
of an enormous host, of which Archduke Charles with 140,000 men in
northern Italy and Archduke John with 50,000 more in the passes of the
Tyrol were important adjuncts.
General Mack was impressed with the great strength of his troops and
felt that he could easily overcome Napoleon with the superiority of his
numbers. Schulmeister learned of this over-confidence and was all the
more anxious to reach the big man. Captain Wend undertook to present
the Alsatian to Mack. It proved to be easy. The Austrian commander was
not anxious to move unless it was necessary, and when he learned that
there was a man in the vicinity who had been in the camp of Napoleon he
was eager to meet him.
Schulmeister was bidden to come into his presence and told to
describe all that he had seen in the camp of the “enemy.” He did so
with a vividness of imagination that would have done credit to Baron
Munchausen.
For nearly an hour the medium-sized man with the ugly scars and the
sky-blue eyes sat there and poured fiction into the ears of the great
general—the man decorated with many medals and filled with a sense of
his own importance. And Mack believed it all. At the conclusion the
Austrian turned to one of his subordinates.
“You see; it is as I suspected. We must not move from this place. We
must watch and wait.”
So, on the strength of the information—the false information—supplied
by the Alsatian smuggler, the great army dawdled away its time in
idleness. That is to say, it was really idle while making a pretense
of activity. General Mack moved his troops about aimlessly in order to
fool the enemy. That was his notion of military strategy. But alas! for
his expectations, he was dealing with the master military strategist of
his time—if not of all times.
Having deluded the Austrian commander and obtained accurate data
concerning his plans, Schulmeister now made it his business to convey
the information to Napoleon. He was readily given leave to go to the
French camp, with instructions to get all the facts possible as to its
future movements.
He was in an enviable position. He had the passwords of both armies and
he made his way to the quarters of the Emperor without any difficulty.
As before, he found the silent, mysterious figure in the long gray
coat, in the midst of his brilliantly attired staff. Schulmeister
almost ran into the presence of the “Little Corporal.”
“Sire,” he said, “I have important news from the front.”
Napoleon dismissed his officers, and sat down to listen to the
report of the spy. His penetrating eyes seemed to pierce the soul of
Schulmeister, but the Alsatian bore the scrutiny without flinching.
The Emperor was satisfied. His determined look gave way to one of his
charming smiles.
“Proceed,” said he.
Briefly, but without omitting any essential detail, Schulmeister told
the story of his adventures from the time he had left the French camp
until his return. At intervals there was a quiet chuckle from the
great soldier. After he had concluded Napoleon propounded a number
of questions, all of which the spy was able to answer clearly and
satisfactorily. Then the short man in the long coat arose and paced up
and down for some moments in silence. Presently he placed his hand on
Schulmeister’s shoulder and said:
“You have done your work well; return and keep me posted on future
developments.”
So Schulmeister made his way back to the Austrian lines, while the
Corsican proceeded with his plans for enveloping the enemy. Mack was
“bottled up” but not quite effectively. Time was needed to complete the
job and it was the Alsatian spy who was to make that time possible. He
hastened to the Austrian commander. On this occasion he had no need of
a go-between. He had now the confidence of Mack and the orders were
that he should be permitted to go and come as he pleased. The Baron was
delighted at the return of “his spy,” as he called him. Schulmeister
told of his visit to the French camp and gave what purported to be a
résumé of Napoleon’s plans.
The audacity of the man may be judged when it is known that he
gave considerable accurate information. This was susceptible of
confirmation, and the fact that it was confirmed by some of Mack’s
subordinates only served to raise Schulmeister in the estimation of the
Austrian. And all the while Napoleon was marshaling his forces in such
a way that the escape of the enemy seemed impossible.
Presently it began to dawn on General Mack that something was wrong.
Disquieting reports came from the outer defenses. The Austrian became
genuinely disturbed. He sent for Schulmeister and questioned him
regarding the previous “information” he had brought him, but the
Alsatian went through the ordeal with flying colors. Indeed, he gave
him one or two additional facts which were so transparently correct
that it placed the spy above suspicion.
On the seventh of October the campaign of strategy on both sides came
to a close. With Napoleon it had been a series of restless moves. With
Mack it had been a period of marking time, of doing nothing.
Too late he realized his mistake. He hurried to the north and found
that the French troops were lined up there in a solid phalanx; he
turned to the south and discovered that his retreat was cut off there.
The east and the west were in the same condition. The worst part of it
was that these various lines were slowly but surely closing in on him.
He could see now that the Corsican commander had been engaged in a vast
enveloping campaign.
In a word, the great Napoleon had the Austrian army in a grip of steel!
Mack presented a pitiable sight, sitting there with his head between
his hands, humiliated and remorseful—the victim of his own inactivity
and his too confiding nature. The members of his staff gazed on the
spectacle silently and not entirely with pity. From a distance Charles
Louis Schulmeister also beheld the defeated Austrian chief. He felt,
like the others, that it was all over but the shouting. The spy kept
discreetly away from the immediate vicinity of the general and his
staff. He knew very well that if his duplicity were discovered that he
would, even then, be shot down like a dog. So he patiently awaited the
arrival of the French troops.
But unexpectedly the situation seemed to change. It is an axiom of
war that no chain is stronger than its weakest link. Napoleon had
completely surrounded the Austrians and their allies, but there was
one section where the French line was very thin—too thin indeed for
French comfort. And while Mack was moping over his hard fate some of
his more energetic officers had been making a closer investigation of
the situation.
The sound of a horse’s hoofs was heard and an aide-de-camp galloped
into the presence of Mack.
The officer alighted and saluted his chief.
“General,” he cried, “there is a weak link in the French lines about
two miles to the south, and with a sufficient force we may be able to
break through.”
This was as balm to the sorely afflicted pride of the Austrian. He
rose to the situation. Officers were sent hither and thither and the
soldiers massed for an attack upon the point in question.
Napoleon’s spy looked upon these preparations with a sinking heart. If
they were carried out all of his work might go for naught. That seemed
like a glorious French victory might be turned into simply a drawn
battle.
He had to think and think quickly!
As usual, he was equal to the occasion. Captain Wend, of the
Austrian Secret Service, and Lieutenant Bendel were near him ready
to share in the downfall of the Austrian arms. They, too, realized
that the situation now hung upon a thread. They were completely in
Schulmeister’s power, and were ready to do anything he might command.
He prepared a false message purporting to be signed by one of the
officers of the outlying regiments. It said, in substance:
A revolution has broken out among the people of Paris. Riots
are going on in the streets. Napoleon is hurrying home and the
retreat of the French troops is but a question of time.
This was conveyed to Mack by Captain Wend. It filled the Austrian
commander with amazement. It was so unexpected and so surprising. His
mind worked slowly at best, and this intelligence seemed to impair his
thinking faculties still further. Schulmeister was too shrewd to permit
his enterprise to rest on a single warning. He sent a second message by
another officer and finally he personally appeared before the Austrian
commander and told him things that appeared like confirmation as strong
as Holy Writ. Mack was flooded with false messages.
As a consequence of this he called back his troops and calmly sat down
to await the retreat of the enemy. That this inaction was largely
due to his own indolence cannot be doubted. But that it was chiefly
prompted by the cunning of the Alsatian spy is a matter of history.
Before the sun went down that day the weak link in the French lines had
been strengthened effectively. Napoleon had his troops under perfect
control and the ring of steel began to draw in closer and closer. Mack,
in his fancied security, waited for the retreat of the enemy. Day by
day Napoleon became more irresistible, while the Austrian grew weaker.
Finally he awoke to discover that he had made a second mistake, and
a greater one than the first. The Ulm campaign came to a sudden
termination on the 18th of October, when Mack capitulated and
surrendered his entire force.
* * * * *
This campaign has few parallels in history. Not a shot had been fired
and many of the Austrians had not even seen a French soldier!
While the world was ringing with the news of this remarkable close to
a remarkable campaign, General Savery, who is also known to history as
the Duke de Rongo, accompanied Charles Louis Schulmeister on a visit
to the Emperor Napoleon. The great soldier congratulated the Alsatian
smuggler and loaded him down with financial favors. Schulmeister’s
fortune was made—from a worldly standpoint.
He was given leave of absence, with the understanding that he must
remain subject to the Emperor’s call. He had the right to go anywhere
he chose and he chose to go to his home in the Alsatian village of New
Freistell. The wife of his youth awaited him eagerly. This curious man,
who knew neither fear nor pity, had one unexpected characteristic. He
was passionately fond of children. Although married several years there
was no prospect of little ones.
Schulmeister was not a man to be thwarted in his desires. He went out
into the village, found two orphaned and homeless children and adopted
them as his own. Visitors to the little place on the right bank of the
Rhine tell of seeing the world-famous spy frolicking on the lawn of his
home with these children. For the time being the man who had affected
the destinies of armies was subject to the whims and the caprices of
two little ones. He obeyed their slightest commands as implicitly as he
had the orders of Napoleon Bonaparte.
Queer sight in this queerest of all possible worlds!
II
BELLE BOYD, THE CONFEDERATE GIRL WHO SAVED STONEWALL JACKSON
That brilliant writer, Gilbert Chesterton, in one of his paradoxical
essays said that a fact, if looked at fiercely, may become an
adventure. It is certain that the most important facts in the life of
Belle Boyd, the Confederate spy, constitute some of the most thrilling
adventures in the great conflict between the sections—the Civil War in
the United States.
She was only a girl when the flag was fired on at Sumter and her
father and all the members of her family immediately enlisted in the
Confederate army. When the Union troops took possession of Martinsburg,
Belle Boyd found herself unwillingly inside the Federal lines. She
had no formal commission from any of the Southern officers, but
circumstances and her ardent nature made her an intense partisan of
what was to be “The Lost Cause.”
During the occupation of Martinsburg, she shot a Union soldier, who,
she claimed, had insulted a Southern woman. From that moment until the
close of the war she was actively engaged either as a spy, a scout or
an emissary of the Confederacy. On more than one occasion she attracted
the attention of Secretary of War Stanton, and although she served a
term in a military prison, she seems to have been treated with unusual
leniency. After the war she escaped to England, where she published her
autobiography, bitterly assailing the victorious North.
It was in Martinsburg that Belle Boyd first began her work for the
Confederacy. The Union officers sometimes left their swords and pistols
about the houses which they occupied, and later were surprised and
mystified at the strange disappearance of the weapons. They little
thought that this mere slip of a girl was the culprit. Still later they
were amazed to find that these same swords and pistols had found their
way into the hands of the enemy and were being used against them.
But aside from this Belle Boyd made it her business to pick up all the
information that was possible concerning the movements and the plans
of the Union forces. Every scrap of news she obtained was promptly
conveyed to General J. E. B. Stuart and other Confederate officers.
[Illustration: BELLE BOYD]
It was about the time of the battle of Bull Run that the Confederate
general in command fixed upon Front Royal as a site for a military
hospital. Belle Boyd was one of the nurses and many a fevered brow
felt the touch of her cool hand and more than one stricken soldier
afterwards testified to the loving care he received from this
remarkable woman.
Later, Front Royal became the prize of the Union army, and Belle Boyd
naturally fell under suspicion. Some remarks of her activities had
already reached the front, and the officers kept her under close
scrutiny. Fortunately, as she thought, she had been provided with a
pass which would permit her to leave the place. Accordingly, the second
day after the arrival of the Unionists she packed her grip and prepared
to leave the town. As she came from the house she was halted by a Union
officer named Captain Bannon.
“Is this Miss Belle Boyd?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I am the Assistant Provost Marshal, and I regret to say that
orders have been issued for your detention. It is my duty to inform you
that you cannot proceed until your case has been investigated.”
This did not suit the young woman at all. She opened her pocketbook and
produced a bit of pasteboard.
“I have here a pass from General Shields. Surely that should be
sufficient to permit me to leave the city.”
The young officer was perplexed. He did not care to repudiate a pass
issued by General Shields, and at the same time did not wish to disobey
the instructions which he had received from his immediate chief.
“I hardly know what to do,” he said. “However, I am going to Baltimore
with a squad of men in the morning. I will take you with me and when we
get there turn you over to General Dix.”
This program was carried out and the Confederate spy was given a free
trip to the monumental city, which she did not want. She was compelled
to remain in Baltimore for some time, being kept constantly under the
closest supervision. Finally, however, General Dix gave her permission
to return to her home. There was no direct evidence against her and
it was considered a waste of time and energy to keep her under guard.
She was escorted to the boundaries of her old home by two Union
soldiers. It was twilight when she arrived at the Shenandoah River.
The effects of the war were to be seen on every side. The bridges had
been destroyed, and they only managed to cross the river by means of a
temporary ferry boat that had been pressed into service.
When she reached her home she found that it had been appropriated as
a headquarters by General Shields and the members of his staff. He
treated her courteously and said that no harm would befall her if she
was discreet and attended to her own business. She was told that a
small house adjoining the family dwelling had been set aside for her
use, and that the soldiers would be given orders not to molest her in
any way.
But the young daughter of the Confederacy kept her eyes and ears open
and the night before the departure of General Shields, who was to give
battle to General Jackson, she learned that a council of war was to be
held in the drawing-room of the Boyd home. Just over this apartment was
a bedroom containing a large closet. On the night of the council she
managed to make her way to this room and slipped into the closet. A
hole had been bored through the floor, whether by design or otherwise
she was unable to tell. However, she immediately determined to take
advantage of what she considered a providential situation.
When the council assembled the girl got down on her hands and knees in
the bottom of the closet and placed her ear near the hole in the floor.
To her great satisfaction she found that she could distinctly hear all
of the conversation. The conference between the Union officers lasted
for hours, but she remained motionless and silent until it had been
concluded. When the scraping movement of the chairs on the floor below
was heard she knew that everything was over so came out of her place of
concealment. She was tired and her limbs were so stiff from remaining
in that cramped position so long that it was all she could do to move.
But she was full of grit and determination and as soon as the coast was
clear she hurried across the courtyard and made the best of her way to
her own room in the little house and wrote down in cipher—a cipher of
her own—everything of importance that she had overheard.
After that it was but a matter of a few minutes to decide on her
course of action. She knew that it would be extremely dangerous to
call a servant or to do anything that might arouse the officers, who
had by this time gone to bed, so she went to the stables and saddled
a horse herself, and galloped away in the direction of the mountains.
The moon was shining when she started on this wild ride. She had in
her possession passes which she had obtained from time to time for
Confederate soldiers who were returning south. Without them it would
have been impossible for her to have accomplished her purpose. Before
she had gone a half mile she was halted by a Federal sentry. He grabbed
the bridle of her horse and cried out:
“Where are you going?”
“I am going to visit a sick friend,” was the ready response.
“You can’t do it,” he cried. “You ought to know that you can’t leave
this place without a pass.”
“But I have one,” she said, with an engaging smile, and drew out the
piece of pasteboard.
The guard looked at it dubiously, but it was in proper form and
contained the necessary signature and he grudgingly permitted her to
continue on her journey.
Twice again she was halted by sentinels and each time she told the
same story and underwent the same experience. Once clear of the chain
of sentries she whipped her horse and hurried ahead for a distance of
fifteen miles. At that time the animal was in a perfect lather and when
she pulled up in front of the frame house which was the dwelling place
of her friends the horse was panting and trembling from the unusual
exertion. She leaped from the animal’s back and going to the door
rapped on it with the butt end of her riding whip. There was no reply,
so she hammered harder than ever. Presently a window in the second
story was cautiously opened and a head poked out and a voice called:
“Who’s there?”
“Belle Boyd, and I have important intelligence to give to Colonel
Ashby.”
“My dear Belle!” shrieked the voice from the window. “Where in the
world did you come from and how did you get here?”
“Oh, I forced the sentries,” was the reply, in a matter of fact voice.
Within sixty seconds the girl was in the house and receiving
refreshments and telling her strange story to her wondering friend. The
horse in the meantime was taken to the stable by a negro and carefully
groomed and fed. Only after these important details had been attended
to was the girl permitted to tell her story.
“I must see Colonel Ashby,” she said in conclusion, “and if you can
tell me where to find him I will go at once.”
She was informed that the Confederate officer and his party were in
the woods about a half mile distant from the place in which they were
sitting. Just as the girl was ready to go the front door was thrown
open and Colonel Ashby stood before her. He looked at her as if she
were a ghost and then finally burst forth in amazement:
“My God, Miss Belle, is that you? Where did you come from? Did you drop
from the clouds?”
“No,” she said smilingly, “I didn’t. I came on horseback and I have
some very important information.”
Whereupon she related the details of the council that had taken place
in the Boyd home, and then told the story of her mad ride through the
night. She concluded by handing him the cipher, which he said would be
communicated to his superior officers at once.
After that she insisted on mounting her horse and returning home
again. It was more than two hours’ ride, during which time she ran
the blockade of the sleeping sentries with comparative success. Just
at dawn when she was in sight of her home one of the sentries she was
passing called out:
“Halt or I’ll shoot!”
But she did not halt. On the contrary she whipped her horse until it
fairly leaped through the air. She felt that the man was leveling his
gun in her direction. She lay flat on her horse’s back with her arms
around his neck, and this was done in the very nick of time, for at
that same moment a hot bullet came singing past her ears. That was the
only serious interruption. In a few minutes she had reached the grounds
surrounding the Boyd home. Fortunately no one was in sight. She hurried
into the house and went to bed in her aunt’s room just at the break of
dawn.
Two days later General Shields marched south with the idea of laying a
trap to catch General Jackson. Once again the fearless girl determined
to carry the information she possessed to her Confederate friends.
Major Tyndale, at that time Provost Marshal, gave Belle Boyd and her
cousin a pass to Winchester. Once there a gentleman of standing in the
community called on her and handing her a package, said:
“Miss Belle, I am going to ask you to take these letters, and send them
through the lines to the Confederate army. One of them is of supreme
importance and I beseech you to try and get it safely to General
Jackson.”
After the exercise of considerable ingenuity she managed to get a
pass to Front Royal. To add to the romantic feature of the business a
young Union officer, who admired the girl, offered to escort her to
her destination. They went in a carriage, but before starting she made
it a point to conceal the Jackson letter inside her dress. The other
letters, which were of comparatively small importance, she handed
to the Union officer with the remark that she would take them from
him when they reached Front Royal. On the way, as she feared, they
were stopped by a sentinel. The Union admirer of the Confederate spy
explained that they had a pass which would permit them to proceed on
their way, but the zealous sentinel insisted on searching them and was
highly indignant when he discovered the compromising letters in the
hands of the young man. He insisted upon confiscating them, but in
the excitement forgot all about the girl, and she was permitted to go
unmolested, carrying with her the precious letter intended for General
Jackson.
Afterwards she laughingly expressed contrition for having involved an
ardent admirer in such a serious plight, but excused herself on the
ground that all was fair in war as well as in love. Fortunately, the
young man, who was a perfectly loyal Northern soldier, was given the
credit of having discovered the papers, which were valuable to his
superior officers. Thus do we sometimes make a virtue of necessity.
After Belle Boyd had been in Front Royal for several days she learned
that the Confederates were coming to that place, but she also
discovered that General Banks was at Strasbourg with 4,000 men; that
White was at Harper’s Ferry; Shields and Geary a short distance away,
and Frémont below the valley. At a spot which was the vital point all
of the separate divisions were expected to meet and coöperate in the
destruction of General Jackson. She realized that the Confederates
were in a most critical situation and that unless the officers in
command were aware of the facts they might rush into a trap which meant
possible annihilation.
With characteristic promptness she decided on her plan of action. She
rushed out to warn the approaching Confederates. On that occasion she
wore a dark blue dress with a fancy white apron over it which made her
a shining mark for bullets. The Federal pickets fired at her but missed
and a shell burst near her at one time, but she threw herself flat on
the ground and thus escaped what seemed to be sure death. Presently she
came within sight of the approaching Confederates and waved her bonnet
as a signal.
Major Harry Douglass, whom she knew, galloped up and received from her
the information, which he immediately transmitted to General Jackson.
The result of all this was a rout of the Union forces.
It was in this battle of Bull Run which followed soon afterwards that
General Bee, as he rallied his men, shouted:
“There’s Jackson standing like a stonewall!”
From that time, as has been aptly said, the name he received in a
baptism of fire displaced that which he had received in a baptism of
water.
The number of Union men engaged in the battle of Bull Run was about
18,000, and the number of Confederates somewhat greater.
Soon after the engagement the young woman received the following
letter, which she prized until the hour of her death.
_Miss Belle Boyd_:
I thank you for myself and for the army, for the immense
service you have rendered your country to-day.
Hastily, I am your friend,
T. J. Jackson, C. S. A.
Shortly before the close of the war Belle Boyd was captured and
imprisoned. She escaped and made her way to England. In London she
attracted the attention of George Augustus Sala, the famous writer. She
had been married in the meantime and her husband, Lieutenant Hardage
of the Confederate army, was among those taken prisoner by the Union
forces.
While abroad she became financially embarrassed; indeed, at one time
she was reduced to actual want. A stranger in a strange land, sick in
mind and body, she was in a pitiable condition. Mr. Sala wrote a letter
to the _London Times_ explaining her sad state and roundly abusing the
United States Government which had, he said, not only imprisoned her
husband but was also “barbarous enough to place him in irons.”
British sympathies were very strongly with the South at that time, and
as a result of this plea provision was made for the immediate wants of
the famous spy. After the war she disappeared from the public gaze, and
some years later died in comparative obscurity.
III
THE INDIAN SCOUT WHO WAS THE HERO OF KING PHILIP’S WAR
It is a curious fact that Job Kattenanit, one of the Praying Indians of
Deer Island, in Boston Harbor, should have emerged from King Philip’s
war with more glory than any other man, either white or red, who
participated in that bloody contest.
Like the historic Biblical character from whom he received his name,
Job was a sorely afflicted man. He was among the first group of Indians
in that section of the United States to accept the Christian religion,
and it was this fact, and in order to distinguish them from the other
red men, that Kattenanit and his companions received the designation of
the Praying Indians.
It is regrettable to record, however, that the excesses of some of
the other natives had caused an indiscriminate hatred of the Indians
throughout New England. They were regarded as wild beasts who should
be shot and killed without mercy. It was while this feeling was at its
height that Job Kattenanit and eleven of his companions were arrested
on a charge of being concerned in the murder of seven white men. They
were captured in the town of Lancaster and brought to Boston, tied
“neck and neck,” as the practice was in those primitive days. The
evidence against them was of the flimsiest character, and it was only
through the efforts of Captain John Gookin, a magistrate who felt a
special interest in the Indians, that their lives were spared and they
were condemned to imprisonment on Deer Island.
In the meantime King Philip, the Indian chieftain, was spreading terror
among the white people. He was jealous of their gradual encroachment
upon what he conceived to be his domain and he planned to destroy them.
He was a man of sagacity, although said to be wanting in physical
courage, and he gradually combined all of the Indian tribes into one
strong confederation and waited for a chance to strike the decisive
blow.