of his fellow soldiers. That very afternoon in company with Noulton he
appeared before Washington and received instructions concerning his
mission. He was provided with the necessary authority and also given a
general order to the owners of all American vessels to convey him to
any point on Long Island which he might designate.
He left the camp on Harlem Heights that night accompanied by Sergeant
Stephen Hempstead. With him also was his servant, Ansel Wright. It was
not until they had reached Norwalk, fifty miles from New York, that
they found a safe place to cross the Sound. Here Hale exchanged his
regimentals for citizen’s dress of brown cloth and a broad brimmed
round hat. He directed his two companions to remain there until his
return and also deposited with Hempstead his uniform and his military
commission. Hale crossed the Sound to Huntingdon Bay where he landed
disguised in the character of schoolmaster and Royalist who was
disgusted with the Rebel forces. He entered the British camps in this
disguise and was received with much enthusiasm by the Redcoats, who
accepted him as an ally. It is known that he visited all the British
camps on Long Island and made observations openly; that he passed
over from Brooklyn to New York City and that he gathered considerable
information concerning the condition of the British army at that place.
So far he had been entirely successful in his mission.
On his return he safely reached the point on the Long Island shore
where he had first landed, and he prepared to recross the Sound at
Norwalk the first thing in the following morning. He wore shoes with
loose inner soles and between the soles he had concealed the drawings
he made of the fortifications and also other memoranda written in Latin
on thin paper. Perfectly satisfied that he was safe from harm and
filled with the thought that his mission had ended successfully, he
calmly awaited the coming of daylight. His attention was attracted by
the proximity of an inn known as “The Cedars.” This place was managed
by a widow who was a staunch Loyalist. It was well known as the resort
of the Tories in that part of the country. Hale was familiar with these
facts, but was not disturbed at the thought of any personal danger.
The light in the window of “The Cedars” attracted him. It was necessary
that he should have refreshments and lodgings. He felt perfectly
safe now, considering that he was far away from the danger zone, and
besides felt that his simple attire would protect him from prying
eyes. Accordingly he strolled into the tavern and secured a room for
the night. After that he went to the main room and ordered supper. The
place was fairly crowded and the entrance of Hale apparently attracted
no attention.
He took his ease, supping leisurely and listening with interest to the
gossip of the loungers about the room. “The Cedars” was notoriously a
resort for Tories and the young American was forced to listen to some
conversation which he surely did not relish. But he had a sense of
humor as well as a philosophy of his own and the blatant talk of the
so-called Royalists did not disturb the serenity of his disposition.
Indeed, there is reason to believe that the romantic side of the young
man was attracted by the novelty of the situation. “The Cedars” was a
quaint old inn. The customary shingle, offering refreshments for “man
and beast” swung outside in the wind; mine host with a long white apron
served beer in great stone mugs, and the patrons of the place sprawled
about the tables smoking long stemmed pipes. They talked of war and
they talked of spies, little thinking that an American officer who was
just finishing an important mission was listening to all they had to
say.
In the midst of the hub-bub a stranger entered the room. He caught one
glance of Nathan Hale and then turned his face with the suddenness of
one who has made a startling discovery. The next moment Hale had looked
up, but too late to get a good view of the man’s face. He caught the
merest glance of the guilty countenance, and from that moment his mind
was haunted with a resemblance which it was impossible to fix with
any certainty. The newcomer was in civilian’s dress. He wore his hair
long and was square-shouldered. He spoke to no one and disappeared as
silently as he had entered.
There can be no doubt that he is the man who betrayed Hale to the
British. But there has always been real doubt concerning his identity.
It is hinted that Hale himself said that the fellow resembled a distant
cousin. But there is nothing on record to prove this disagreeable
suspicion. Indeed, from that moment, there seems to have been an
attempt to conceal all of the facts concerning Hale’s dramatic arrest
and tragic death. Can this have been part of the plan to protect the
informer? Over one hundred and forty years have passed since then and
history still asks the name of the man who entered “The Cedars” on that
fateful night in September, 1775.
Nathan Hale spent the night at this tavern, and at daylight the next
morning he went out to search for the boat that was to convey him to
the other side of the Sound. To his immense satisfaction he saw a
craft moving towards the shore with several men in it. He had not the
least doubt but that they were his friends and he hastened to the beach
in order to meet it. As the boat touched the shore a half dozen British
marines jumped out and surrounded him. He turned as if to run when a
harsh voice exclaimed:
“Surrender instantly, or you die!”
Too late he realized that he had walked into a trap. He saw six men
standing there erect with muskets levelled at his heart. It was folly
to struggle. He was seized, taken into the barge and conveyed to the
British guardship _Halifax_. His captors stripped and searched him
and found the evidence of his mission concealed between the soles of
his shoes. The unfortunate American was taken in one of the boats of
the _Halifax_ to General Howe’s headquarters, which were then in the
mansion of James Beekman at Mount Pleasant. This place contained among
other things a great greenhouse filled with shrubbery and plants. In
this greenhouse Hale was confined under a strong guard on the night
of September 21. The following morning he was taken before Howe, who,
without the formality of a trial, condemned him to be hung. He was
delivered into the custody of William Cunningham with orders that he
should be executed before sunrise the following day.
History informs us that when Hale was taken before Howe he frankly
acknowledged the purpose of his mission.
“I was present at the interview,” wrote a British officer, “and I
observed that the frankness, the manly bearing and the evident
disinterested patriotism of the young prisoner touched a tender cord
in General Howe’s nature; but the stern rules of war concerning such
offenses would not allow him to exercise even pity.”
It was on a Sunday morning that Nathan Hale was marched to the place of
execution, which was in the vicinity of what is now East Broadway and
Market Street. He was escorted by a file of soldiers and was permitted
to sit in a tent while waiting for the necessary preparations for his
death. The young patriot asked for a chaplain but his request was
brutally denied. He asked for a Bible, but this also was refused. It
was only at the solicitation of a young officer in whose tent Hale sat
that he was allowed to write brief letters to his mother, sisters and
the young girl to whom he was betrothed. She was Alice Adams, a native
of Canterbury, Connecticut, and distinguished both for her intelligence
and personal beauty. Who could imagine the feelings that filled the
young patriot as he penned his final words to the girl who was pledged
to be his wife.
But imagine the scene a moment later when these tender epistles were
handed to Cunningham. That officer read them with growing anger. He
became furious as he realized the noble spirit which breathed in every
word. He resolved that they should not be given to the world, and
with an oath tore them into bits before the face of his victim. It
was twilight on that beautiful September morning when Hale was led to
his execution. The gallows was the limb of an apple tree in Colonel
Rutger’s orchard. The young martyr was asked if he had anything to say.
He turned to his executioner and in a calm clear voice said:
“I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.”
[Illustration: Nathan Hale]
His body was buried near the spot where he died and a British officer
was sent to acquaint Washington with the fate of his young messenger. A
rude stone placed by the side of the grave of his father in the burial
ground of the Congregational Church in his native town for many years
revealed to passersby the fact that it was “In Commemoration of Nathan
Hale, Esquire, a Captain in the Army of the United States, who was
Born June Sixth, 1755, and Received the First Honors of Yale College,
September 17, 1773, and Resigned His Life a Sacrifice to His Country’s
Liberty at New York, September 22, 1776, Age Twenty-two.”
Sixty years ago, long before there was a monument to the memory of
Hale, George Gibbs, librarian of the New York Historical Society, wrote
this epitaph, which is worthy of preservation:
STRANGER, BENEATH THIS STONE
LIES THE DUST OF
A SPY,
WHO PERISHED UPON THE GIBBET;
YET
THE STORIED MARBLES OF THE GREAT,
THE SHRINES OF HEROES,
ENTOMBED ONE NOT MORE WORTHY OF
HONOR
THAN HIM WHO HERE
SLEEPS HIS LAST SLEEP.
NATIONS
BOW WITH REVERENCE BEFORE THE DUST
OF HIM WHO DIES
A GLORIOUS DEATH,
URGED ON BY THE SOUND OF THE
TRUMPET
AND THE SHOUTS OF
ADMIRING THOUSANDS
BUT WHAT REVERENCE, WHAT HONOR,
IS NOT DUE TO ONE,
WHO FOR HIS COUNTRY ENCOUNTERED
EVEN AN INFAMOUS DEATH,
SOOTHED BY NO SYMPATHY,
ANIMATED BY NO PRAISE!
The simple narrative of Nathan Hale’s life and death effectively
disposes of the tradition that he undertook his perilous mission
reluctantly or that he had any scruples about essaying the rôle of a
spy. He regarded that task as part of the day’s work—an unpleasant part
to be sure, but one of the things that had to be cheerfully undertaken
in the line of duty.
But there is one phase of the tragic business that is shrouded in
mystery and it is the story of his betrayal. Who was the strange man
in “The Cedars”? Was he a cousin? Was he a Tory? Do the descendants of
that man still live in New York City and what must their feelings be
when they read the inscription upon the monument to the young patriot
and martyr?
Until these questions have been answered and until this mystery has
been made clear the story of Nathan Hale will be incomplete.
XIV
MAJOR LE CARON AND THE FENIAN INVASION OF CANADA
If there is one name in Ireland that is more cordially detested than
another it is that of Thomas Beach, the spy, who is better known by
his adopted name of Major Henri Le Caron. The story of how he came to
assume that cognomen, and the manner in which he served the government
of Great Britain as against his supposed co-patriots furnishes one of
the most interesting chapters in the Secret Service of England, if not
of the world.
Beach defends his work on the ground that when he was first brought
into contact with Fenianism he had no ulterior motive in mind and that
no material consideration prompted him to work against the men who
hoped to bring about the freedom of Ireland by the spectacular invasion
of Canada. He says that he was forced by a variety of circumstances to
play a part he had never sought, but he insists that he did nothing to
be ashamed of and has never felt any regret for the manner in which he
served England. He says that there is no truth in the popular belief
which credited him with receiving fabulous payments and frequent
rewards. He admits that there was ever-present danger and constantly
recurring difficulties, but very scant recompense from the Government
for which he risked so much.
Beach was born in England, but came to the United States just about
the time of the beginning of the Civil War and enlisted in the Union
Army—in the 8th Pennsylvanian Reserves. But in enlisting he took on
himself a new name and a new nationality. One reason he gives for this
was his desire to avoid giving his parents anxiety. Also he thought it
would be “a good joke.” Be that as it may, he was put down on the books
of his company as Henri Le Caron and his home as France. He served
through the greater part of the war, and after it was over became
connected with the Grand Army of the Republic, holding among other
positions those of Vice Commander and Post Surgeon, with the rank of
major.
[Illustration: MAJOR LE CARON (THOMAS BEACH)]
So from that time until the end of the chapter he was known as Major Le
Caron, and he says that this afforded him an effective disguise through
which he was enabled to keep the English authorities informed of the
Irish movements on this side of the Atlantic.
It was through an Irishman named O’Neill that Le Caron became connected
with the Fenian movement. He wrote home at intervals and he says that
the information which was thus informally given to his family was
by them taken to the Home Secretary in London, and in the course of
time Le Caron became a regularly paid spy in the Secret Service. The
consequences of this was that the proposed invasion of Canada was well
known to the English and Canadian officials long before it occurred.
The first invasion, with which Le Caron does not seem to have been
personally connected occurred on the morning of June 1, 1866. For six
months before that time active preparations were in progress. During
the spring of the year many companies of soldiers, armed and uniformed,
were being drilled in a number of cities in the United States.
Thousands of stands of arms and millions of rounds of ammunition had
been purchased and located at different points along the Canadian
border.
The relations between the United States and England were not very
cordial at that time because of the attitude of England during the
Civil War, and as a consequence the proposed invasion, if it was not
encouraged, was not greatly discouraged in this country. The attempt,
however, proved a failure. The Fenians were defeated and driven out
of Canada. Sixty of them were killed and more than two hundred taken
prisoners. It was the natural result that is to be looked for when a
volunteer force goes against a well trained army. Under the command of
General John O’Neill 800 Irish patriots were towed across the Niagara
River to a point on the Canadian side called Waterloo. At four o’clock
in the morning the Irish flag was planted on British soil by Colonel
Owen Starr, and from thence the patriots marched to and captured Fort
Erie, containing a detachment of the Welland Battery.
The effect of the news of this first victory was electrical in the
United States. Thousands who had hesitated about joining the movement
were now willing and anxious to enlist. The Canadian Government, and
Le Caron in his official reports to London endeavored to belittle
this initial triumph, but they felt very much chagrined just the same.
However, the Irish victory was short-lived. As soon as the news of
the capture of Fort Erie spread to Toronto, the 22nd Battalion of
Volunteers of that city hastened to the rescue, and at Ridgeway a
bloody battle occurred between the opposing forces. The invaders were
driven back to Fort Erie and later were taken as prisoners by the
United States battleship _Michigan_.
The news of the temporary victory had a wonderful effect in the United
States. By the 7th of June not less than 30,000 men had assembled in
and around Buffalo, prepared to fight if it was deemed desirable. But
the defeat of the detachment that had actually entered Canada, and
the issuance of a neutrality proclamation by President Andrew Johnson
ended the war for the time being. The prisoners were released on their
own recognizance and sent home by the United States authorities. The
arms seized by the American Government were returned to the Fenian
organization, and if Dame Rumor is not a falsifier, were used for a
second invasion of Canada four years later.
In 1869 Le Caron was so intimate with his Fenian friends that he was
made an inspector general of the Irish Republican Army. After that he
was assistant adjutant general with the rank of colonel, and his new
position enabled him not only to become possessed of the originals of
many important documents and plans of proposed campaigns, but also
specimens of the Fenian army commissions which he promptly conveyed to
the officials of the Canadian Government. In this work he was assisted
by a number of officials from Canada. Speaking of this, he says:
“Successful as I was in avoiding detection through all this work, those
assisting me in my secret service capacity were not always destined
to share in my good luck. This has been particularly the case on
one occasion. I was at the time shipping arms at Malone, N. Y., and
attended on behalf of the Canadian Government by one of the staff men
placed at my disposal for the purpose of immediate communication and
the transit of any documents requiring secrecy and dispatch as well as
for personal protection should such prove necessary. This man, John C.
Rose, was one of the most faithful and trusted servants of the Canadian
administration, and for months he followed me along the whole border.
“Though stopping at the same hotels and in constant communication
with me, no suspicion was aroused until his identity was accidentally
disclosed by a visitor from the seat of government to one of the
Fenians located at Malone. Men were immediately set to watch him
without my knowledge, and the fact of his being found always in my wake
on my visits to and from several towns led to the belief that he was
spying upon my actions. A few nights after this poor Rose on his return
from sending a dispatch from the postoffice, was waylaid, robbed and
brutally beaten, and subsequently brought back to the hotel in as sorry
a plight as I ever saw.”
In the meantime, in the winter of 1869, the Fenian Senate announced the
completion of the arrangements for the invasion of Canada, and early
in February the following year circulars were sent out to the military
officers of the Fenian Brotherhood, instructing them to prepare for
the proposed campaign. Those Brothers whose business or family duties
prevented them from getting their commands in readiness for active and
immediate service were requested to forward their resignations at once
and at the same time send on the names of persons suitable to take
their places. They were told to ascertain and report how many of their
own men could furnish their own transportation, and in the meantime to
try and persuade all of them to save enough for that purpose.
On Saturday, April 22, 1870, General O’Neill and Le Caron left Buffalo
for St. Albans, the general being filled with enthusiasm over the
belief that the Canadians would be taken entirely by surprise, and Le
Caron laughing in his sleeve at the thought of how his companion would
be fooled. O’Neill’s plan was to get across the boundary line without
delay and then to entrench himself at a point where his soldiers would
form the nucleus around which a large army and unlimited support would
rally from the United States. Buffalo, Malone, and Franklin were the
three points from which attacks were to be made. O’Neill expected 1,000
men to meet him at Franklin, on the night of April 25, 1870. Only a
quarter of that number presented themselves, and by the following
morning not more than 500 had mustered. Every hour’s delay added to the
danger of failure and collapse. All this time Le Caron was busy sending
messages across the border carrying full details as to the time the
Fenians would leave Franklin, the exact points at which they would
cross the border, their numbers, and the places of their contemplated
operation.
On April 26 O’Neill left the Franklin Hotel to place himself at
the head of the Fenian Army. Hubbard’s Farm, the Fenian camp and
rendezvous, was about half a mile from Franklin, and here all of the
available soldiers had been mustered. Arranging them in line, O’Neill,
according to Le Caron’s narrative, addressed them as follows:
“Soldiers, this is the advance guard of the Irish-American army for
the liberation of Ireland from the yoke of the oppressor. For the sake
of your own country you enter that of the enemy. The eyes of your
countrymen are upon you. Forward, march!”
Following this harangue they started off on their expedition with
O’Neill at their head. Before leaving, O’Neill instructed Le Caron
to bring to his support on their arrival a party of 400 men who were
coming from St. Albans. The men marched with a certain amount of
military precision for all of them had received some degree of military
training. There is no doubt of the patriotic feelings that filled their
hearts. In spite of the lack of uniformity, and possibly because of
it, the scene was picturesque. Here and there a Fenian coat with its
green and gray faced with gold sparkled in contrast with the civilian
clothing and the more somber garb of the others.
Finally the volunteers reached a little wooden bridge and deployed as
skirmishers in close order, advancing with fixed bayonets and cheering
wildly. Not a soldier appeared to dispute their way, but the dark
Canadian trees hid from their view the ambushed Canadian volunteers,
who were only awaiting the signal to spring out upon the unsuspecting
invaders.
All this time Le Caron, who had spent years of intimate association
with many of the Irishmen and who was regarded as their friend and
confidant, stood upon the hilltop to watch the inevitable slaughter.
They advanced a few yards farther, and on their startled ears came
the whistling sound of many bullets from the rifles of the ambushed
Canadians as they poured a deadly volley straight into their ranks.
Little remains to be told. There was fierce fighting and terrible
bloodshed, but the invaders were overcome by superior numbers and well
disciplined troops. Finally they were forced to retreat up to the hill
where Le Caron stood, still under the fire of their adversaries and
leaving their dead to be subsequently buried by the Canadians.
Seeing that all was over, for the time at least, the spy had hurried
off to the point where the St. Albans contingent had arrived and were
forming. He actually took part in this ceremony, and while engaged in
superintending it he was afforded, as he says, practical evidence of
the termination of O’Neill’s part in the fight. While he was standing
in the middle of the road where the men were forming into line, he was
startled by the cry:
“Clear the road, clear the road!”
He was almost knocked down by a team of horses pulling a covered
carriage, and as the conveyance flashed by him he caught through the
carriage window a hurried glimpse of the dejected face of General
O’Neill, who was seated between two men. He said in speaking of this
that he might have given the command to shoot the horses as they turned
an adjacent corner, but it was no part of his purpose to restore
O’Neill to his command.
It became known later that O’Neill was in the custody of the United
States Marshal, General Foster, who, acting under instructions from
Washington, had arrived on the scene of the battle immediately after
Le Caron left and arrested O’Neill on the charge of breaking the
neutrality laws. O’Neill, who was in the company of his comrades,
refused to surrender and threatened force, but when General Foster
placed a revolver at his head he succumbed.