the plans of those who were opposed to his designs. At this stage of
events he once more sent for his trusted spy, Schulmeister. He had made
him Monsieur de Meinau, with both the title and the estates that went
with it. But the new Monsieur knew his imperial patron well enough
to understand that he could not rest on his laurels. With Napoleon
incessant activity was the price of favor.
As the result of the interview with the Emperor Monsieur left Vienna
with letters of introduction to the Austrian officers at Oedenburg.
This was in west Hungary, about thirty-seven miles from the Austrian
capitol. Here he learned that the Archduke Charles and Ferdinand had
combined forces the day before and were preparing for a united attack
on the French troops. This information was exceedingly important and he
never rested until he had forwarded it to Napoleon.
After that he felt entitled to a little relaxation and he joined the
Austrian officers in the gayeties of camp life. He had been hospitably
received on his arrival and now was royally entertained by his new
found friends. His scarred forehead and his severe military manner
impressed them. Add to this the fact that he was supposed to have
undergone great privations and dangers as an officer of the Austrian
Secret Service and it will not be difficult to understand why the
soldiers insisted upon placing a halo of romance around his head. A
dinner was given in his honor and on this occasion the rascal actually
entertained his hosts with stories of some of his thrilling adventures
in the service of the Fatherland. His methods were simple enough. He
related real exploits, merely picturing himself as an Austrian secret
agent instead of a spy of Napoleon. His narratives were received with
applause and manifestations of delight.
The Austrians had been at Oedenburg for some time and the pleasures
of camp life were beginning to affect the discipline of the men.
Schulmeister, or rather Monsieur de Meinau, was ordinarily a person
of abstemious habits, but he could be a jolly good fellow when the
occasion demanded it, and this, you may be sure, was one of the
occasions. The flowing bowl was passed around so often that it was
in grave danger of flowing over. The more wine the officers drank
the greater became their affection for the spy. They literally threw
themselves around his neck, which was quite a generous thing to do when
we consider that under the military customs of the time they would have
been justified in placing a rope around that same neck. But there was
one man at the banqueting board who was a death’s head at the feast.
Lieutenant Bernstein looked and felt unhappy. He did not share the
confidence of his comrades in Monsieur de Meinau. In fact, he frankly
regarded him as a fraud. So he sat there eating little and drinking
less and wondering how he could bring the spy to grief.
His opportunity came sooner than he expected. Monsieur de Meinau,
having reduced his hosts to a state of semi-intoxication, hastened out
to send further information to Napoleon. With his usual cleverness he
had established a chain of communication between Oedenburg and Vienna.
He had his own sub-spies within and without the lines of the enemy, and
thus had a method of forwarding his dispatches which would have been
envied by modern news associations in times of war. But on this one
occasion he reckoned without his host—or at least this particular host.
Bernstein was at his very heels, and when he saw him pass the slips of
paper into the hands of a confederate, felt that it was time for some
one to interfere. Consequently when Monsieur de Meinau returned to the
banqueting board Bernstein pointed an accusing finger in his direction
and exclaimed:
“I denounce that man as a spy!”
There was a loud shout of laughter at this and the man nearest to him
punched the accuser in the ribs.
“Why, old man, there’s nothing startling in that. We know that he is a
spy.”
Monsieur de Meinau folded his arms and looked the lieutenant in the eye.
“The comrade is trying to have a jest at my expense. Gentlemen, you
all know that I am a spy. I have told you myself. Perhaps it was an
indiscretion, but—”
“No! No!” cried Bernstein, excitedly. “Not that kind of a spy. I say
that he is a spy against Austria. He has been in communication with the
French troops. I caught him in the act of sending messages through the
lines.”
Silence fell upon the group of officers surrounding the two men. The
force of the accusation was startling—so startling that it sobered
them at once. A bucket of water thrown into each of their faces would
not have been half so shocking. All of them turned to Monsieur de
Meinau. His face was pale, but he did not lose his composure. He was
ready for whatever might happen. The chief officer cried sternly:
“What have you to say to this?”
Monsieur de Meinau’s arms were still folded in the way in which he had
often seen Napoleon fold his arms.
“Gentlemen,” he said with dignity, “I have been grossly insulted, and
under the circumstances I can only do one thing—I demand an instant
investigation of the accusation against me. I insist upon a trial—a
court martial, if you will.”
The audacity of this request had the expected result. It disarmed
suspicion at the outset. And his insistence upon a trial only served
to strengthen him in the minds of the officers. He was given a trial,
but it was largely a perfunctory affair. The lieutenant who made
the accusation was, of course, unable to prove his charge. The only
witnesses against Schulmeister had fled, and he was triumphantly
acquitted. He displayed numerous letters, some real and others forged,
to prove that he was a patriot working in the Austrian Secret Service.
General Wilhing, who presided over the trial, was profuse in his
apologies and insisted upon giving him a letter to the Archduke Charles
who was then at Koermoend.
Monsieur de Meinau proceeded gayly on his way to the headquarters
of the Archduke, arriving with his letters and his never-failing
audacity. His Austrian uniform, of course, was an immense asset, which
he did not fail to utilize to the fullest extent. He was not only in
the confidence of the Austrians, but also in the position of being a
“vindicated” man. Thereafter no one could have the temerity to point
the finger of suspicion in his direction. Any charge they might make
would have the appearance of being a stale and exploded slander. The
most important thing for him now was not to be caught in the commission
of any overt act.
Most military spies come to grief by having dispatches and documents on
their person. Monsieur de Meinau knew this, and he made it his business
to get rid of incriminating documents at the earliest possible moment.
But yet there were times when papers and documents were his chief stock
in trade. He was cordially received at Koermoend and was taken to the
Archduke Charles by a member of that General’s staff. The nobleman
greeted the newcomer kindly and asked him for information regarding the
enemy. Monsieur de Meinau having just come from Vienna via Oedenburg
was able to give the Archduke some very interesting news. The fact that
the greater part of it was the product of his vivid imagination did not
make it any the less thrilling. As a consequence of this the Archduke
regarded him with unusual favor.
This fact was not lost on the lesser lights of the camp at Koermoend.
The chief-of-staff of the Archduke conceived that one who was so highly
regarded by his superior was entitled to special attention at his
hand. So he invited him to be his guest during his brief stay at the
headquarters of the Archduke. Schulmeister—to give him his old name for
the moment—accepted cheerfully, but reminded his host that he was a
very busy man and that he might be compelled at any moment to leave him
abruptly and without notice. This was the solemn truth, but, of course,
the humor of it was lost on the chief-of-staff.
Now the General had his headquarters in a roomy frame building not
far from that of the Archduke. His office was in a large apartment
on the first floor. Here he kept all of his papers and military
correspondence. Monsieur de Meinau—to get back to his formal
designation—made note of all this and was quick to see where the
soldier placed the keys of the place. For some days now he followed a
policy of watchful waiting. He was a persistent man, but also a patient
one. He felt sure that his opportunity would come—and it did.
One morning the Archduke decided to make an inspection of his troops.
This was an all-day job and he was naturally accompanied by his
chief-of-staff. When they were out of sight and hearing the spy began
his operations. He had access to the house, but the desk containing the
coveted papers was locked. By rare good—or bad—fortune, the General had
left his bunch of keys on a hook behind the door. Monsieur de Meinau
possessed himself of them and opened the desk of the absent soldier. To
his delight he found a mass of most important correspondence.
He tiptoed over to the door and locked it securely. After that he
pulled down the blinds and started in to read the papers. It consumed
several hours and at the end of that time he had discovered many things
which he felt sure were important to Napoleon. The question now was
whether to steal the papers or copy them. He finally decided on the
latter course. There were two reasons for this. The first was that he
could accomplish his purpose without exciting any suspicion and the
second that the chief-of-staff, for whom he had come to hold a certain
regard, would be held blameless.
He went at his work with a will. He used a cipher of his own which
was a sort of shorthand, and long before the sun went down he had
filled his memorandum books with most valuable information. Just as he
finished there came a loud rapping at the door. He was startled, but
not seriously disturbed. He concealed his notebook, locked the desk,
placed the keys where he had found them, and then hastily undressed. A
couch was in the corner of the room, and he threw himself on it. In the
meantime the knocking had become more pronounced. He arose and opened
the door, presenting a sleepy and dishevelled appearance to the man
at the door. It proved to be, as he had expected, the chief-of-staff,
returned from his tour of inspection. Monsieur de Meinau was all
apologies.
“I am so sorry to have kept you waiting,” he murmured, “but I was tired
and I am a heavy sleeper.”
The General was graciousness itself.
“No excuses are necessary,” he insisted. “I regret having disturbed
you. Please lie down again and take the rest I know you must need so
badly.”
After that speech it might be supposed that Monsieur de Meinau would
relent. But not so. He had other uses for his victim. He had supper
with him and late that night asked for a safe conduct to Vienna.
“I have to go after some information and it is too late to go to the
Archduke. I am sure he would give it to me but I dislike disturbing
him. Perhaps it is too much to ask from you?”
The chief-of-staff gave a gracious wave of the arm which might be taken
to mean that everything he had was at the disposal of the spy. He said:
“It gives me great pleasure to serve you in this matter because in
doing so I know that I am serving my country.”
If Monsieur de Meinau had been capable of blushing he would have done
so at that moment. But he merely sat there stolidly waiting while the
General wrote the desired pass. When it was handed to him he put it in
his wallet, bade his host an affectionate farewell and started off with
the stolen correspondence.
He reached Vienna in safety and immediately reported to Napoleon,
giving the Little Corporal not only the copies of the letters and
papers, but also a great amount of verbal information. Napoleon already
had his plans made for the campaign which was to end by placing his
brother Jerome on the throne of Westphalia. The data given him by
Monsieur de Meinau enabled him to dispose his forces still more
advantageously. Also it placed the enemy at a tremendous disadvantage.
At this time there had been formed a new combination against France,
consisting of England, Russia, Sweden, Saxony and Prussia. The contest
began in 1806 with two thrilling battles, Jena and Auerstadt. They were
fought on the same day. It was a crushing defeat for the Prussians,
and Napoleon, already having possession of Vienna, now marched in
triumph into Berlin. Well might he gloat over his triumph, for he had
accomplished in a few hours what Austria, France and Russia had been
unable to do in the Seven Years’ War of the preceding century. And
within a stone’s throw of the Emperor and sharing with him the glories
of this historic occasion was his faithful spy.
But the opposition, while dismayed, was not yet entirely vanquished.
The Prussians gathered their scattered forces together and joining with
the Russians made a final stand at Eylau. The battle there was fierce,
but not decisive. A short time after this the French won the battle of
Friedland, and then a treaty of peace was signed.
Napoleon gained precisely what he wanted. By the peace treaty Prussia
gave up a large part of her territory. From a portion of it, lying west
of the Elbe, he created the Kingdom of Westphalia. This was bestowed
upon his brother Jerome, thus adding another kingdom to the group of
states which he was accumulating and which—he thought in his colossal
vanity—was to make him King of Kings. Monsieur de Meinau was present
when Jerome was crowned, as was befitting for one who had risked his
life in the cause of the king-maker.
In 1809 Monsieur de Meinau was given command of the Military Police of
the French Army. From that date, although his field of Operations was
increased, his personal exploits became less numerous. He did undertake
one or two private missions for Napoleon, but for the most part his
hours were fully occupied in directing the activities of others. That
he was a busy man may be appreciated from the ceaseless labors of
Napoleon. That remarkable man never rested and, needless to say, did
not permit any one about him to rest. There came the seizure of the
thrones of Portugal and Spain, the Peninsular War, the quarrel with the
Pope, the battle of Wagram and then the divorce from Josephine and the
marriage to the Princess Marie Louise. In all of these stirring events
the former Alsatian smuggler played his part.
Napoleon, while a hard taskmaster, was a liberal paymaster. Time and
again his spy was given large sums of money, and what was quite as
good, the opportunities of making money. But there was one thing he
craved, and that was the cross of the Legion of Honor. He had been
a soldier as well as a spy, and felt that this entitled him to the
decoration. Familiar as he had been with the Man of Destiny, the spy
did not have the courage to personally ask him for this favor. He
confided his wish to General Savery, his original patron, who undertook
to present the case to the Emperor. The great Napoleon had ideas of
his own on this point. He fully appreciated the value of the services
rendered by Schulmeister but when the decoration was demanded he gave
an aggressive shake of the head.
“Money as much as you like,” he cried, “but the cross—never!”
And the money poured into the outstretched hands of Monsieur de
Meinau, but the decoration of the Legion of Honor remained ever beyond
his reach. Presently the fortunes of Napoleon began to wane, and,
appropriately enough the fortunes of his chief spy also waned. He
became a comparatively poor man and went to spend the declining years
of his life in the town of his birth. There Napoleon III called on him
and talked of the great days that had gone before.
Some time in the forties a Parisian visiting the Alsatian village met
a little old man, dressed in black, and walking about with the aid of
a cane. In spite of his great age he was nattily attired and the red
rose in his buttonhole betokened the spirit of youth that dwelt within
him. He was amiable and very, very gentle. This man was Louis Joseph
Schulmeister, afterwards Monsieur de Meinau, Napoleon’s chief spy, and
the hero of a hundred thrilling escapes.
The good, it is said, die young; this amazing man lived to be
eighty-two, and died in bed!
XIII
THE STRANGE MYSTERY SURROUNDING THE BETRAYAL OF CAPTAIN NATHAN HALE
Most Americans are fairly familiar with the story of the heroic
sacrifice of Captain Nathan Hale, but none have yet ventured to remove
the veil of mystery that hides the identity of the betrayer of the
young patriot.
Who delivered Nathan Hale into the hands of his executioners? That is a
question which has never been answered. Was it one of his own cousins
who happened to be a Tory and a British sympathizer? That suspicion
has been expressed and although it has been pushed aside by Benson J.
Lossing the historian, he admits that he has not been able to obtain
any data for or against this theory.
It is a notorious fact that the Tories were very numerous in and about
New York, and there seems to be reason for believing that some of
Hale’s own family were in sympathy with their sycophantic sentiments.
Could feelings of envy have entered into one of the saddest betrayals
of American history? It is to be hoped not for the sake of our common
humanity, and yet the popularity of Hale as he reached man’s estate
was likely to arouse the mean jealousy of those of a lower order of
mentality.
Nathan Hale was a magnificent specimen of manhood. His physical and
mental qualities were alike distinguished. He was graduated from Yale
college with high honors and while there made a record as an athlete.
He was almost six feet in height, perfectly proportioned, and, in
the words of Dr. Munson, was “the most manly man I have ever met.”
His chest was broad, his muscles firm; his face wore a most benign
expression; his complexion was rosy; his eyes, light blue and beaming
with intelligence; his hair soft and light brown and his speech low,
sweet and musical. Is it any wonder that the girls of New Haven loved
him and wept when they heard his fate?
Nathan Hale was engaged in teaching school at New London when the
rumbles of the Revolution first began to disturb the placid life of
that part of the country. On the day that American blood was first shed
at Lexington a twilight town meeting was called and Nathan Hale was one
of the speakers. He called upon the people to act at once and to act in
a manner that could not be misunderstood.
“Let us march immediately,” he cried with all of the passionate ardor
of youth, “and let us never lay down our arms until we have obtained
our independence.”
As a proof of both his consistency and his patriotism, Hale immediately
enrolled himself as a volunteer. The following morning he bade
good-by to his pupils and departed for Cambridge. Before long he had
been formally enlisted as a lieutenant of a company in a regiment
commanded by Colonel Charles Webb, and late in September of that year
marched with his regiment to Cambridge and participated in the siege
of Boston. Within three months he had been commissioned as a captain
because of vigilance and bravery. The British were driven from Boston
in the spring of the following year, and soon after that the Americans
proceeded to New York. His earnestness in the cause was proven when he
surrendered his own pay to his men in the endeavor to have them prolong
their term of service, which had already expired.
Even at this early stage of his military career he covered himself with
glory by performing what proved to be one of the most daring feats of
the Revolution. A British sloop laden with provisions was anchored in
the East River under the protection of the guns of a man-of-war called
the _Asia_. Hale went to General Heath and obtained permission to
attempt the capture of the supply vessel. With a few dozen picked men
as resolute as himself, he embarked in a small boat at midnight and
reached the side of the sloop unobserved by the sentinel. The young
New Englander followed by his men sprang aboard the vessel, secured
the sentinel, confined the crew below the hatches, raised the boat’s
anchor and took her into the wharf just at the dawn of day. It was
a dashing adventure and it was successful. He was the hero of the
hour, especially among his fellow Americans, when the supplies were
distributed among them. For many months after this he continued the
routine work of a captain in the Revolutionary Army, and it was not
until the 7th of September that he was called upon to take part in
the thrilling exploit which was to end in such a disastrous and tragic
manner. Washington had called a council of war to decide whether he
should defend or abandon New York. He had already asked Congress this
important question and he was answered by a resolution that in case
he should find it necessary to quit New York he should have special
care taken that no damage be done to the city. As a result of this he
resolved to remain and defend the city.
General Washington had at this time made his headquarters at the house
of Robert Murray. The position of his army was exceedingly perilous,
ships of war having already passed up the East River. Scouts reported
great activity among the British troops, but they were unable, after
great efforts, to gain any intelligent idea of the intentions of the
enemy. Yet Washington knew that it was most essential that he should
have this information. He wrote to General Heath, then staying at Kings
Bridge.
“As everything in a manner depends upon intelligence of the enemy’s
motions, I do most earnestly entreat you and General Clinton to exert
yourselves to accomplish this most desirable thing. Leave no stone
unturned nor do not stick at expense to bring this to pass, as I was
never more uneasy than on account of my want of knowledge on this
score. Keep a constant lookout with good glasses on some commanding
heights that look well on to the other shore.”
What Washington desired to know more than anything else was whether
the British would make a direct attack upon the city, and if they
did whether they intended to land upon the island above the city or
Morrisania, beyond the Harlem River. The general in his perplexity
called another council of war at Murray’s. At this conference it was
resolved to send some courageous and competent person in disguise into
the British camps on Long Island. The person needed was one skilled
in military and scientific knowledge and a good draftsman—in short
a man on whose judgment and fidelity they could absolutely depend.
In this emergency Washington sent for Lieutenant Colonel Noulton and
told him just what he wanted. In response Noulton summoned a number
of officers to a conference at his quarters and in the name of the
commander-in-chief called for volunteers. They were taken by surprise.
There was a general reluctance to engage in the work of a spy. For
a time it looked as if it would be impossible to obtain a man for
the service, but at the last moment a young soldier who had been ill
entered the room and learning the nature of the request called out:
“I will undertake the work.”
It was Captain Nathan Hale. Everybody was amazed, not the least among
them being Lieutenant Colonel Noulton. Some of the others, who knew
and loved Hale, privately endeavored to persuade him to reconsider his
decision. They pointed out his hopes for the future and explained the
ignominy and death to which he might be exposed. One of his dearest
friends, William Hull, who was afterwards a general in the War of 1812,
and who was a member of his company and had been his classmate at
college, was especially fervid in trying to turn him from the perilous
task, but Hale had made up his mind and would not change it. He said
with great warmth:
“Gentlemen, I am satisfied that I owe to my country the accomplishment
of an object so important and so much desired by the commander of her
armies, and I know of no mode of obtaining the information except
by assuming a disguise and passing into the enemy’s camp. I am
fully sensible of the consequences of discovery and capture in such
circumstances, but for a year I have been attached to the army and
have not rendered any material service, while receiving a compensation
for which I made no return. Yet I am not influenced by any expectation
of promotion or pecuniary reward. I wish to be useful; and every kind
of service necessary for the public good becomes honorable by being
necessary. If the exigencies of my country demand a peculiar service
its claims to the performance of that service are imperious.”