information that had been brought to him by his spy fortunately did
not make it necessary for him to change his plan of campaign. He was
in communication with other Continental officers and kept constantly
informed of the progress of the campaign. He discovered many other
things; that Clinton, at the head of the British forces in New York,
was under the impression that Washington was getting ready to attack
him. Washington encouraged him to think so. In order that the British
general should not be disillusioned, the American continued to make
every possible preparation for moving against New York. So cleverly was
this ruse carried on that the members of Washington’s own army supposed
that he was really getting ready to attack Clinton. When at length
everything was just as he wished it, Washington suddenly broke camp and
conducted his entire force with all possible speed across the country
to the head of Chesapeake Bay and thus by vessels to Yorktown. It was
truly a critical time in the Revolutionary War. While Washington was
continuing his southern movement Lafayette and his army closed in on
the other side. The British realized that they were gradually becoming
the victims of a vast enveloping movement. Cornwallis put his spy glass
to his eye and peered over the walls of his fortified town. On one side
he beheld the French fleet, on the other side Washington’s troops,
and on still another, Lafayette’s army. The Americans, 16,000 strong,
were gradually but surely coming closer and closer. Cornwallis held out
with great bravery for three weeks, but the constant rain of shells and
hot shot made his position almost impossible. Finally, seeing that it
was useless to struggle against fate, he surrendered. His army marched
out on the 19th of October, 1781, to the tune of “The World’s Upside
Down,” and it was—at least to the British. They were dazed and could
not understand how such a powerful army and such a great empire should
fall victims to what seemed to be a handful of untrained farmers. But
in spite of their feeling it was over, and they were the vanquished.
The fall of Yorktown practically ended the war of the Revolution.
Washington had conquered. Lafayette’s confidence in the struggling
colonists was fully vindicated and his great respect for George
Washington increased. As has been said, it was the victory of a great
and good man in a great and good cause.
The news of the surrender was sent post-haste to London. The excited
messenger who announced the sad tidings to Lord North, the Prime
Minister of the British Government, afterwards said that that
functionary threw up his arms as though he had received a shot and
cried dramatically:
“It is all over!”
And so it was; and in the victory at Yorktown none of the Continental
troops fought more bravely or showed to greater advantage than those
who served under the leadership of Lafayette. Among the privates in
the New Jersey Brigade none fought with greater courage than Charles
Morgan, who had served as the personal spy of the great Frenchman in
the camp of Cornwallis. But in his case virtue and courage had to be
their own reward. Many of the soldiers who deserved great honor were
compelled to go unrewarded, and Charles Morgan was apparently one of
these, for after his exploit, and the ending of the war, his name does
not appear in any of the records of that great event. Like many other
deserving men, he was lost in the mists of obscurity.
XI
THE MYSTERIOUS AND ROMANTIC CASE OF GENERAL NAPPER TANDY
During the Napoleonic wars scores of military spies were sent from
England and France, and most of them performed their work so well that
posterity has not even been given the benefit of their names. Perhaps
the most industrious of these was a man who was simply known as “O.” He
was constantly in communication with the English Government and he kept
Pitt, the English Prime Minister, informed of the movements of certain
Irishmen who had left their own country to enlist under the banner of
Napoleon.
One of the most conspicuous of these was General Napper Tandy, who
urged upon the Man of Destiny the advisability of attacking England
by making a descent upon the coast of Ireland. For more than a
half-century the greatest mystery hovered about the name and the
identity of General Napper Tandy. But it was finally cleared up through
the persistence and the painstaking efforts of William J. Fitzpatrick,
the Irish historian, but only after he had secured the permission of
the English Government to make an examination of the secret archives of
Dublin Castle.
As a result of that, we now know that Tandy was an adventurous soul
who was willing to fight at the drop of a hat. He is described in
Government reports as an “arch rebel,” and it is certain that he took
part in various Irish uprisings against the English Government. He went
over to France about 1796 and identified himself with Napoleon. He was
a brave man, with much knowledge of military strategy and undoubtedly
made an impression upon one who was regarded as the greatest military
strategist of his day.
That Napoleon thought well of the proposed invasion of Ireland is
proven by his negotiations with Thomas Addis Emmet. The correspondence
of the great Corsican makes that fact clear. But Emmet accused him of
coldness and indecision on the Irish program, because, instead of going
to Ireland in 1798, he changed his plans and went to Egypt.
However, there was never any doubt about the plans of General Tandy,
and the manner in which he carried them out is part of the secret
history of the times. A meeting to arrange the details was held in
Paris, and was attended by Messrs. Blackwell, Morres, Tandy and
Corbett. Unfortunately for them, there was another person present, and
that was the English spy who became known later from the fact that he
signed all of his communications to the English Government with the
letter “O.”
Mr. Fitzpatrick, after the most exhaustive researches, is convinced
that this spy was a man named Orr, who had been on Pitt’s payroll for a
long time. He had been a thorn in the side of Napoleon for years, and
even before the meeting which Tandy held in Paris had sent a note to
his chief in which he said:
“The grand object of the French is, as they term it themselves, London.
_Delanda Carthago_ is their particular end; once in England, they think
they would speedily indemnify themselves for all their expenses and
recruit their ruined finances.”
It is certain that “O” was not only present at the meeting to arrange
for the expedition into Ireland, but that he made suggestions regarding
the details of that historic trip. It is interesting to know that
before the ship set sail full particulars of it had been sent by “O”
to his English employers. He even goes so far as to make sport of the
finances of the French nation at that time.
“Three generals are to go out on the little expedition,” he writes,
“and all the money they can muster between them is thirty louis d’or.
One of them, to my certain knowledge, has but five guineas in all.”
Tandy sailed from Dunkirk in the French ship _Anacreon_, which was
well stocked with a store of ordnance, ammunition, saddles and
accouterments. He was accompanied by a large staff including Corbett
and Blackwell. One of his aides-de-camp was Orr, the spy, who kept at
his elbow constantly, and learned all of his most secret plans and
hopes. Before the gallant ship raised anchor there was a conference
in the cabin concerning the most desirable landing place. Maps of
Ireland were consulted, and it was finally decided that the safest,
if not the most secluded stretch of country, was along the coast
of Donegal. General Napper Tandy was in fine fettle. He wore a most
gorgeous uniform with gold lace and brass buttons, and altogether made
an impressive appearance. Like many brave men, he was a dandy in dress
and manner, and when not fighting, devoted much time to his toilet.
The journey to Ireland was comparatively uneventful, but all of those
aboard the _Anacreon_ were glad to see the shores of the Green Isle.
Tandy was very much concerned regarding another expedition which had
set sail for Ireland about a week before the departure of his own
party. This was in charge of General Humbert, and was expected to
clear the way for the Tandy invasion. As the ship approached the shore
General Tandy hoisted a green flag at the masthead of the _Anacreon_.
It had on it the words, “Erin go Bragh,” and was intended as a signal
to the Irishmen who were to join in an attack on the British. He
also had with him for distribution, printed copies of a proclamation
addressed to the people of Ireland. It was headed “Liberty or Death,”
and contained a drawing of the Irish harp and the cap of liberty, and
began with the words: “Horrid crimes have been perpetrated in your
country, your friends have fallen a sacrifice to their devotion to your
cause, and their shadows are around you and call for vengeance.” Little
did Tandy imagine that copies of these proclamations were already in
the hands of the British, and that the spy who had forwarded them was
then on the ship with him. If Orr felt any apprehension he did not show
it in his manner, yet he must have known that if discovered he would
have been hanged to the mast arm of the vessel.
Tandy landed in company with General Ray, a French soldier who had seen
service with Napoleon. In a short time they were surrounded by a large
number of people who looked upon the invaders with amazement and alarm.
To them General Ray made a grandiloquent speech, in the course of which
he said:
“The soldiers of the Great Nation have landed on your coast well
supplied with arms and ammunition of all kinds, and with artillery
worked by those who have spread terror amongst the ranks of the best
troops in Europe, headed by French officers; they come to break your
fetters and restore you to the blessings of liberty. General Napper
Tandy is at their head; he has sworn to lead them on to victory or die.
Brave Irishmen! The friends of liberty have left their native soil to
assist you in reconquering your rights; they will brave the dangers,
and glory at the sublime idea of cementing your happiness with their
blood.”
General Tandy made his headquarters with Mr. Foster, who lived near the
coast of Donegal, and after partaking of refreshments he said to that
gentleman:
“What news have you got to give me regarding the expedition that landed
last week?”
“Not very good—for you at least,” said Foster, who was an ardent
Royalist. “Part of the French troops landed at Killala, and after
winning the battle of Castlebar have been finally compelled to
capitulate to Lord Cornwallis.”
“I cannot believe it,” exclaimed Tandy.
“It is true,” was the grim reply, “whether you believe it or not.”
In order to assure himself of the truthfulness of the intelligence,
General Tandy took forcible possession of the Rutland postoffice,
which was kept by Mr. Foster’s sister. He opened the newspapers, and
to his dismay found that all he had been told was perfectly correct.
He realized that the usefulness of his own expedition was destroyed.
Indeed, he learned further that a large body of British troops was
already on its way to Rutland to capture the latest invaders. Under the
circumstances the only thing left for him to do was to retire with as
little loss as possible.
The thoughtfulness of this soldier of fortune was illustrated by the
fact that he wrote an official letter, signed and sealed, exonerating
Foster from blame for not having dispatched his mail bags. He testified
that, being in temporary want of accommodation, he was obliged to put
Citizen Foster under requisition, and to place sentinels around the
island.
It is also a curious fact that he and his officers paid for everything
they took, including two pigs and a cow. General Ray, when leaving,
removed a gold ring from his finger and presented it to Mrs. Foster as
a token of fraternity. Finally, this arch rebel, after paying all of
his obligations, discharged a cannon as a farewell note to the people
of Donegal.
The _Anacreon_ had scarcely started on her way when Foster dispatched
two messengers to the proper authorities in the hope that part of the
British fleet might intercept the invaders. This was not so easy as it
looked, because Tandy had already told Foster that they had met several
English cruisers on their way to Ireland and had outsailed them all.
The _Anacreon_ proved to be equally successful on its return voyage,
capturing two English ships near the Orkneys after a stiff engagement,
and finally landing Tandy and his associates in Norway. They landed
at Bergen, and after suffering many trials and tribulations, sought
to reach France by land. The cold became so intense that people were
found frozen to death at the gate of Hamburg. Weary and footsore, Tandy
arrived there at twilight on November 22, 1798.
There he was met by a man named Turner who was really a spy associated
with Orr, but seeming to recognize in him a fellow Irishman, Tandy at
once gave him his confidence and eagerly accepted an invitation from
him to take supper. It has been said, but with how much truth cannot be
vouched for, that Turner was one of those who was compelled to fly from
his native land on account of the “Wearing of the Green.” At all events
there was a verse in the popular ballad which ran thus:
“I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand,
And he said, ‘How’s poor old Ireland, and how does she stand,
‘’Tis a most distressful country for it’s plainly to be seen,
They are hanging men and women for the “Wearing of the Green.”’”
Little did Tandy suspect that when he accepted this invitation to
supper he was walking into a trap that had been set for him. Tandy
and his fellow officers were lodged at an inn in Hamburg called the
American Arms, and after finishing their meal they retired to their
respective rooms. Tandy occupied himself in writing letters. He had
many reports to make and explanations concerning the failure of his
expedition. He stayed up nearly all night, and about five o’clock in
the morning was startled by a loud tapping at his bedroom door. He
opened it and an officer walked in followed by Sir James Crawford,
British Minister at Hamburg. The officer turned to the Irishman and
said:
“I would like to have a look at your passport.”
Tandy, although taken by surprise, was perfectly composed.
“If you will wait a moment,” he said, “I will get it for you.”
Turning around and going over to his trunk he lifted the lid very
carefully and took out a pistol which he pointed at the soldier,
exclaiming as he did so:
“This is my passport!”
The officer, who had the courage of his convictions, made a rush at
him and succeeded in deflecting the aim of the pistol. The next moment
the guards rushed in and secured Tandy. Before daylight he and his
associates were handcuffed and confined in the local prison by order of
Sir James Crawford.
A few hours after the arrest of the culprits Monsieur Maragan, the
French resident, wrote to the Senate at Hamburg claiming Tandy and his
colleagues as French citizens and threatening to leave the place unless
they were released. The British minister opposed this demand very
forcibly, and, needless to say, carried his point. The French chargé
d’affaires noticed that Tandy was in very poor health and it is said
that he offered a large sum to the officer of the guard to permit the
Irishman’s escape. But the influence of the British minister was strong
enough to overcome all obstacles from the French side of the house.
The action of the Senate at Hamburg in giving Tandy and his colleagues
over to the British created quite a sensation, and was the cause of a
prolonged controversy.
That Tandy suffered dreadfully from his confinement is proven by many
letters and papers that have since come to light. His sufferings in
prison he said were so severe that life was a burden, and more than
once he prayed to be led out on the ramparts and shot. John Philpot
Curran, writing of his sufferings, says:
“He was confined in a dungeon little larger than a grave. He was loaded
with irons; he was chained by an iron that communicated from his arm to
his leg and that was so short as to grind into his flesh. Food was cut
into shapeless lumps and flung to him by his keepers as he lay on the
ground, as if he had been a beast; he had no bed to lie on, not even
straw to coil himself up on, if he could have slept.”
Corbett, who was one of the prisoners, gives details of the detention
which are hardly less painful.
“What happened to me,” he writes, “would have naturally discouraged and
prevented me from making any new attempts; nevertheless, I managed to
correspond with my two companions in misfortune; and we all three stood
so well with our guards, the greater number of whom we had gained,
that we resolved to arm ourselves and place ourselves at their head to
deliver Tandy, who was in another prison, and afterwards to repair to
the house of the French ambassador. Our measures were so well taken
that we hoped this time at least to recover our liberty in spite of
the impediments which fortune might place in our way. But the same
traitor who had formerly deranged my plan discovered all to the English
minister Crawford, who immediately gave orders that our guard should be
changed and even that those of the different posts of Hamburg should be
doubled, which continued even to our departure. Such was the result of
the last struggle we made to obtain our liberty at Hamburg.”
Finally at midnight on September 29, 1799, after ten months’ detention,
Tandy and his companions were taken from prison and put on an English
frigate. As they were leaving, Tandy said to the officer in charge:
“What right did you have to arrest us? You are surely not ignorant of
the fact that we were French officers.”
The man in charge shrugged his shoulders.
“I merely fulfilled the orders of the minister from England.”
By this time France was venting its wrath unreservedly. It denounced
the conduct of Hamburg to all states, allied and neutral. It compelled
all French consular officers to quit the offending territory and
demanded that every agent of Hamburg residing in France should leave in
twenty-four hours. The Senate of Hamburg now expressed regret at the
occurrence and wrote in this vein to the French authorities.
“Your letter, gentlemen,” replied Napoleon, “does not justify you. You
have violated the laws of hospitality, a thing which never happened
among the most savage hordes of the desert.”
A deputation from the Senate of Hamburg arrived at the Tuileries
to make a public apology to Napoleon. Once again he expressed his
indignation, and when the envoys pleaded national weakness, he
exclaimed:
“Well, and had you not the resources of weak states; was it not in your
power to let them escape?”
As a result of the incident Napoleon laid a fine of 4,500,000 francs on
Hamburg. The payment of this large sum appeased the wrath of the Man of
Destiny and also, it is slyly hinted by his secretary, helped to pay
Josephine’s debts.
In the meanwhile Tandy and his companions had arrived in England.
A military escort accompanied them to Rochester and thence over
Blackfriars Bridge up Ludgate Hill to Newgate. One of the English
newspapers of that time thus describes the event:
“Had Bonaparte and his staff been sent here by Sir Sydney Smith, they
could not have excited more curiosity than Tandy and his companions.
A vast concourse of people gathered at the landing place and followed
the prisoners and their escort to the garrison gates where a new guard
was assembled; and so from stage to stage to the end of the journey
everybody, old and young, male and female, was anxious to get a peep
at this wonderful man now become, from the hope and perverseness of
Ministers, a new bone of contention among the Powers of Europe.
[Illustration: GENERAL NAPPER TANDY]
“Napper Tandy is a large, big-boned, muscular man, much broken and
emaciated. His hair is quite white from age, cut close behind into his
neck, and he appears much enervated. This is indeed very natural if
it be considered that he is nearly seventy years of age and has just
suffered a long and rigorous confinement, his mind a constant prey of
the most painful suspense. He wore a large friar’s hat, a long silk
black greatcoat and military boots, which had a very ‘_outre_’ effect.
“Of Blackwell and Morres, the latter seemed to be five and thirty.
They are two tall, handsome looking men. They wore military dress and
had a very soldier like appearance. The first named is a man of very
enterprising genius, about the middle size and apparently not more than
four or five and twenty, and has the look of a foreigner.”
Eventually Tandy and his companions were removed to Ireland and were
placed at the bar of the King’s Bench, when the Attorney General prayed
that sentence of death should be passed upon them. The case was argued
for several days and finally Lord Kilwarden ruled that Tandy should be
discharged. But he was scarcely given his liberty when he was again
arrested in the district where, two years before, he had made a hostile
descent from France. He lay in the jail there for seven months, during
which time great efforts were made to insure the conviction of what
was regarded as a very dangerous character.
Tandy, finding the evidence against him overwhelming, admitted the
truth of the indictment and was sentenced to die on the 4th of the
following May. Meanwhile Napoleon, on his return from Egypt, claimed
Tandy as a French general and held an English prisoner of equal rank
a hostage for his safety. At this stage of the historic affair it was
not quite so clear that the English had a legal claim to the life of a
man who wore the uniform of a French general and who had been arrested
under such peculiar circumstances. A pardon was eventually made out for
him on condition of banishment to Botany Bay. He indignantly refused
it, but was finally induced to accept it on the ground that all that
was required was merely the name of transportation, and that if he
pleased, it might appear to the world as if he had made his escape at
sea.
Napper Tandy arrived at Bordeaux on the 14th of March, 1802, where he
was received with military honors. Bordeaux was illuminated and the old
rebel was promoted to the rank of a general of division. In the midst
of his vindication, as he termed it, he read with real horror a speech
of Pelham’s in Parliament saying that he owed his life to the useful
information and discoveries he had given to the British Government.
Instantly he addressed a letter to Pelham branding the statement as
audacious and false. Mr. Elliott repeated in Parliament the taunt cast
by Pelham, and spoke of Tandy’s ignorance and insignificant birth.
Tandy immediately challenged him to a duel, saying: “A French officer
must not be insulted with impunity, and you, as well as the country
which gave me birth and that which has adopted me, shall find that I
will preserve the honor of my station.”
When eight weeks had elapsed and Elliott had failed to reply, Tandy at
once proclaimed him “A calumniator, liar and poltroon.”
The most curious part of the whole business is that General Tandy never
knew that he had been betrayed by a spy who was serving under him as an
aide-de-camp. His private character was as clean as a hound’s tooth, a
fact that led one of his friends to say that “it furnished no ground to
doubt the integrity of his public one.”
But his experiences in and out of prison undermined his health, and
after a lingering illness, he died at Bordeaux in 1803. By one of the
curious decrees of destiny George Orr, the spy, lived and prospered
long after Tandy’s death, and, if rumor be correct, managed to
accumulate not only English but French gold!
XII
HOW MONSIEUR DE MEINAU HELPED TO MAKE JEROME BONAPARTE KING OF
WESTPHALIA
Among all of the world’s famous impostors it is doubtful if any could
hold a candle to Monsieur de Meinau. Monsieur did not always have such
a dignified name. Originally, it will be recalled, he was an Alsatian
smuggler and had the plain every-day appellation of Schulmeister. But
as Napoleon’s chief spy his rise to fame and fortune was both sure and
sudden. He was lavishly rewarded by the Man of Destiny. Indeed, his
appointment as Chief of Police of Vienna was a fortune in itself and a
fair return for the services he had rendered, and the dangers he had
braved as the secret agent of Napoleon.
But Napoleon was not yet satisfied. He wished to be the King of Kings
and to reconstruct Germany, Italy and the Netherlands. His ambition was
to rule over an empire that should be encircled and guarded by a belt
of dependent thrones. In pursuance of this policy he seized Naples and
made his brother Joseph its king. After that he converted the Republic
of the Netherlands into a monarchy, and placed his brother Louis at its
head with the title of the King of Holland.