Footnote [1]A spy fm the Enemy (by his own full Confession) Apprehended Last night, was this day Executed at 11 o'clock in front of the Artilery Park.From an Orderly Book of the British Guard. Reproduced from the original in possession of the New York Historical Society.
Footnote [1]A spy fm the Enemy (by his own full Confession) Apprehended Last night, was this day Executed at 11 o'clock in front of the Artilery Park.
From an Orderly Book of the British Guard. Reproduced from the original in possession of the New York Historical Society.
This, with other knowledge obtained about the position of the ship by whose crew he was said to have been taken, gives reason for believing thatthe arrest was not made at Huntington by the crew of that ship, but in the city of New York. The order proves also that, once apprehended, he made not the slightest attempt at concealment, nor any effort to escape his doom. The information gained by Hale's brother Enoch in New York supports this belief as to his capture.
All that we actually know is, that he was captured while attempting to make his way back to his friends, and that this must have been the sharpest moment in his experience. Before it, he had hopes of escape; after his capture he knew that his doom was certain, and his splendid soul adapted itself quietly and bravely to the inevitable.
That fatal night—the night of the 21st of September—was in many respects the most terrible that New York has ever passed through. A fire had broken out near the docks at two in the morning, and was spreading with fearful rapidity toward the upper part of the city, the blaze carried northward by a strong breeze. It looked at one time as if nothing could stop the conflagration, and that the whole city would be destroyed.
For a time the enemy believed that the Americans had deliberately set fire to their own city in order to expel the hated British. Later this was found to be untrue, as the fire proved to have started in alow drinking house where several coarse fellows were carousing. The fire swept on, destroying more than five hundred houses, one fifth of all the buildings then in the city, and was stopped only near Barclay Street by a sudden sharp change in the wind, which blew the fire southward toward the already burning district.
Report says that the provost marshal was given authority by Howe to dispose summarily, without the delay of a trial, of any Americans found rushing about the burning buildings, assuming, of course, that they were intent on the destruction of more buildings, rather than on the natural desire of saving what they could of their own property; and that as a result of this authority, more than one hapless householder was thrown into his own burning home.
Up to this point, the early or late evening of the 21st, there is more or less of unsolvable mystery in regard to Nathan Hale's movements; but from the memoirs of Captain William Hull, Nathan Hale's college friend and companion in arms, we have what appears to be unimpeachable evidence as to Hale's arrest and being brought to General Howe's headquarters. We quote from Captain Hull the information he received from an English officer through a flag of truce:
"I learned the melancholy particulars from this officer, who was present at Hale's execution and seemed touched by the circumstances attending it. He said that Captain Hale had passed through their army, both of Long Island and [New] York Island. That he had procured sketches of the fortifications, and made memoranda of their number and different positions. When apprehended, he was taken before Sir William Howe, and these papers, found concealed about his person, betrayed his intentions. He at once declared his name, his rank in the American army, and his object in coming within the British lines.
"Sir William Howe, without the form of a trial, gave orders for his execution the following morning. He was placed in the custody of the provost marshal. Captain Hale asked for a clergyman to attend him. His request was refused. He then asked for a Bible; that too was refused.
"'On the morning of his execution,' continued the officer, 'my station was near the fatal spot, and I requested the provost marshal to permit the prisoner to sit in my marquee while he was making the necessary preparations. Captain Hale entered; he was calm, and bore himself with gentle dignity. He asked for writing materials, which I furnished him; he wrote two letters, one to his mother andone to a brother officer. He was shortly summoned to the gallows. But a few persons were around him.'"
He was condemned to die in the early morning of the 22d, but in the confusion prevailing throughout the city on account of the spreading fire, at one time threatening the whole town, Provost Marshal Cunningham must have been that morning very fully occupied, and it was late in the forenoon before he completed his preparations for Hale's execution.
At eleven o'clock Cunningham was ready, and, as it proved, Nathan Hale was ready also. Quietly standing among the few who had gathered to see him die, and it is said in response to a taunt from Cunningham that if he had any confession to make now was the time to make it, Hale responded, glancing briefly at Cunningham and then calmly at the faces about him, "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."
For once in his life Cunningham must have been astounded. With no plea for mercy, no shrinking from the worst that Cunningham could do, this man, still almost a boy in years, had shown himself utterly beyond his power—had lifted himself forever from the doom of a victim to the grand estate of a victor. One sharp, brief struggle and Nathan Hale was free—dead, but victorious!
Indefinite as are most of the details, there are some unwritten points that may confidently be assumed.
That 22d of September was a Sabbath day, a day associated in Nathan Hale's mind with religious observances; prayers at the family altar, readings of the Bible, and gatherings of his friends within church walls. Whether or not his family knew the dangerous quest on which he had ventured, he knew that he was not absent from their memories, and that the family were bearing him in their thoughts that Sabbath morning. No other day could have made that assurance so real to him, and this thought was probably one of his strongest earthly consolations and inspirations while he was awaiting the slow but relentless preparations for his death.
No wonder that he bore himself "calmly and with dignity," as Captain Montressor said of him. No wonder that he died bravely—seemingly without a tremor of soul. In his last words Nathan Hale, true and faithful in every relation and every act of his brief life, gave to his country more than his life, more than all the hopes he was relinquishing so freely for her sake. In one short, indomitable breath of patriotism, he uttered words that will be forgotten only when American history ceases to be read.
William Cunningham, Provost Marshal of the English forces in America, murderer and inhuman jailer, would have laughed to scorn the idea that any being, human or divine, could preserve Nathan Hale's last words for the inspiration of coming generations, yet a kindly British officer, Captain John Montressor, carried them to Hale's friends.
Cunningham has left a record of brutality unsurpassed in American history. He is himself said to have boasted that he had caused the death of two thousand American soldiers. We know that any reference to the prison ships in New York Harbor sets Cunningham before us as a cowardly murderer, starving men to death by depriving them of rations which the English supplied for them, and which he sold, pocketing the proceeds. He stands alone on a pedestal of infamy.
The letters that Hale had written and left, as he hoped, to be delivered to his friends, Cunningham ruthlessly destroyed, giving as his reason that "the rebels should not know that they had a man in their army who could die with so much firmness." Though Hale's letters were destroyed, the English officer, John Montressor, aide to General Howe—a gentleman in whose presence we may safely assume that Cunningham, cowardly as all brutal men are, had not dared to maltreat NathanHale as he was known to maltreat other prisoners—that very Sunday evening spoke of Hale's death to General Putnam and Captain Alexander Hamilton at the American outposts where he had been sent with a flag of truce by General Howe to arrange for an exchange of prisoners. More was learned when a flag of truce was sent two days later to the British lines by General Washington, in answer to the one on September 22. Two friends of Hale, Captain Hull and Lieutenant Colonel Samuel Webb, were among those who went with the flag.
Through these flags of truce—and perhaps others—were obtained all the positive knowledge that Hale's friends were ever able to secure; but the unvarnished story, told by Captain Montressor, gave all that was essential to reveal to his friends his manly attitude when in the presence of General Howe, and his calmness and dignity when he was awaiting execution; while his last unpremeditated but immortal words, in reply to Cunningham's taunt, proved to all his friends that he had died as he had lived—a Christian patriot, and a hero.
We may suppose that Nathan Hale himself had not the remotest idea that anything concerning his death would ever be made known to his friends save that, detected as a spy, he had diedas the penalty he had known would follow capture. The words spoken by Nathan Hale, as his last earthly thought, seem to prove that the thought, breathed from the depths of his fearless soul, shall live as long as pure patriotism thrills the souls of mortal men.
From Enoch Hale's diary, parts of which were first published by his famous grandson, Edward Everett Hale, we learn how the news reached the Hale family. Enoch writes as follows:
"September 30. Afternoon. Ride to Rev. Strong's [his uncle] Salmon Brook [Connecticut]. Hear a rumor that Capt. Hale, belonging to the east side of Connecticut River near Colchester, who was educated at College, was sentenced to hang in the enemy's lines at New York, being taken as a spy, or reconnoitering their camp. Hope it is without foundation. Something troubled at it. Sleep not very well.... October 15. Get a pass to ride to New York.... Accounts from my brother Captain are indeed melancholy! That about the second week of September, he went to Stamford, crossed to Long Island (Dr. Waldo writes) and had finished his plans, but before he could get off, was betrayed, taken, and hanged without ceremony.... Some entertain hopes that all this is not true, but it is a gloomy, dejected hope. Time may determine. Conclude to go to the camp next week."
"September 30. Afternoon. Ride to Rev. Strong's [his uncle] Salmon Brook [Connecticut]. Hear a rumor that Capt. Hale, belonging to the east side of Connecticut River near Colchester, who was educated at College, was sentenced to hang in the enemy's lines at New York, being taken as a spy, or reconnoitering their camp. Hope it is without foundation. Something troubled at it. Sleep not very well.... October 15. Get a pass to ride to New York.... Accounts from my brother Captain are indeed melancholy! That about the second week of September, he went to Stamford, crossed to Long Island (Dr. Waldo writes) and had finished his plans, but before he could get off, was betrayed, taken, and hanged without ceremony.... Some entertain hopes that all this is not true, but it is a gloomy, dejected hope. Time may determine. Conclude to go to the camp next week."
He afterwards wrote that Webb, one of Washington's staff, brought word to Washington thatNathan Hale, "being suspected by his movements that he wanted to get out of New York, was taken up and examined by the general [Howe] and some minutes being found upon him, orders were immediately given that he should be hanged. When at the gallows, he spoke and told that he was a Capt. in the Continental army, by name Nathan Hale."
To those who have experienced the long weeks of distressing anxiety that often fall to the lot of those whose friends are in battle, or carried prisoners to unknown camps, no words are needed to depict the anxiety among Nathan Hale's family until particulars of his noble death were finally learned.
It is a solemn but perhaps a comforting fact, that the deepest human distress seems, after a few generations have passed, to have been "writ in water." Bitter as must have been those early sorrowful hours, the only later reminder of the tears that then flowed is given in the statement that one who had loved him could not speak of him fifty years later without tears in her eyes.
Of how many wept for him we can form no conception. Indeed, we should have pitied any warmhearted girl or young man who knew him, and had shared his joyous young life, who could have heard of his tragic death without tears almost as bitter as for one intensely loved.
Duly Enoch Hale and his family learned all that ever will be known of the last days of their beloved, and now honored, dead.
The following letter of Deacon Richard Hale's—good man and uncertain speller that he was!—was written to his brother Samuel at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, a few months after Nathan's death had become known:
Dear BrotherI Recdyour favor of the 17thof February Last and rejoce to hear that you and your Famley ware well your obversation as to the Diffulty of the times is very just. so gloomey a day wee niver saw before but I trust our Cause is Just and for our Consolation in the times of greatest destress we have this to sopert us that their is a God that Jugeth in the earth if we can but take the comfort of it. as to our being far advanced in life if it do but serve to wean us from this presint troublesom world and stur us up to prepare for a world of peace and Rest it is well. the calls in Providance are loud to prepare to meet our God and O that he would prepare us. you desired me to inform you about my son Nathan you have doutless seen the Newberry Port paper that gives the acount of the conduct of our kinsman SamllHale toard him in New York as to our kinsman being here in his way to York it is a mistake but as to his conduct tord my son at York Mr. Cleveland of Capepan first reported it near us I sopose when on his way from the Armey where he had been Chapling home as was Probley true betraie'd he doubtless was by somebody. hewas executed about the 22ndof September last by the aconts we have had. a child I sot much by but he is gone I think the second trial I ever met with. my 3rdson Joseph is in the armey over in the Jarsyes and was well the last we heard from him my other son that was in the service belonged to the melishey and is now at home. my son Enoch is gone to take the small pox by enoculation. Brother Robinson and famley are well we are all threw the Divine goodness well my wife joins in love to you and Mrs Hale and your childrenYour loving BrotherRichard HaleCoventryMarch 28th 1777
Dear Brother
I Recdyour favor of the 17thof February Last and rejoce to hear that you and your Famley ware well your obversation as to the Diffulty of the times is very just. so gloomey a day wee niver saw before but I trust our Cause is Just and for our Consolation in the times of greatest destress we have this to sopert us that their is a God that Jugeth in the earth if we can but take the comfort of it. as to our being far advanced in life if it do but serve to wean us from this presint troublesom world and stur us up to prepare for a world of peace and Rest it is well. the calls in Providance are loud to prepare to meet our God and O that he would prepare us. you desired me to inform you about my son Nathan you have doutless seen the Newberry Port paper that gives the acount of the conduct of our kinsman SamllHale toard him in New York as to our kinsman being here in his way to York it is a mistake but as to his conduct tord my son at York Mr. Cleveland of Capepan first reported it near us I sopose when on his way from the Armey where he had been Chapling home as was Probley true betraie'd he doubtless was by somebody. hewas executed about the 22ndof September last by the aconts we have had. a child I sot much by but he is gone I think the second trial I ever met with. my 3rdson Joseph is in the armey over in the Jarsyes and was well the last we heard from him my other son that was in the service belonged to the melishey and is now at home. my son Enoch is gone to take the small pox by enoculation. Brother Robinson and famley are well we are all threw the Divine goodness well my wife joins in love to you and Mrs Hale and your children
Your loving BrotherRichard Hale
CoventryMarch 28th 1777
For a while after Nathan Hale's death, in the crowding events of the Revolution, his personal friends appear to have been his chief mourners. One lady is said to have told Professor Kingsley of New Haven that she had never seen greater anguish than that experienced by Deacon Hale and his family when they heard of Nathan's death.
What the news meant to his "good grandmother Strong" we are not told. For her, so faithful and unselfish in her loving, we can but be glad that if she went home all the earlier for this blow, she must have gone all the more serenely; assured that if the earth was the poorer, heaven was the richer, because the grandson she had loved so truly was there awaiting her.
Mrs. Abbot, daughter of Deacon Richard Hale'sson, Joseph Hale, lived at her grandfather's from 1784 till her marriage in 1799. Many years ago she wrote to her cousin, "From my earliest recollection I have felt a deep interest in that unfortunate uncle. When his death or the manner of it was spoken of, my grief would come forth in tears. Living in the old homestead I frequently heard allusions to him by the neighbors and persons that worked in the family, much more so than by near relatives. It seemed the anguish they felt did not allow them to make it the subject of conversation. Was it not so with your mother?"
Rev. Edward Everett Hale refers in a historical address to the fact that in his own early days the name of Nathan Hale was seldom mentioned in his presence. We of to-day can but wish that somewhat of the luster from the radiant halo that was to encircle his memory and to grow brighter as the years pass on, might have comforted them. Yet each one of that sorrowing family has long since learned to rejoice that, as nobly as any martyr has ever died for his country, their lad went forth into the eternities.
The poem which follows was published in "Songs and Ballads of the Revolution," collected by Mr. Frank Moore. It is not known when these verses first appeared, but they are among theearliest tributes to Hale after his death. It is thought possible, by some students of Revolutionary history, that the lines may yet prove valuable in throwing light upon the manner of Hale's capture and death, as they are probably based on accounts current at that time of which records have not yet appeared.
(By an unknown poet of 1776)
The breezes went steadily thro' the tall pines,A-saying "oh! hu-sh!" a-saying "oh! hu-sh!"As stilly stole by a bold legion of horse,For Hale in the bush, for Hale in the bush."Keep still!" said the thrush as she nestled her young,In a nest by the road; in a nest by the road;"For the tyrants are near, and with them appear,What bodes us no good, what bodes us no good."The brave captain heard it, and thought of his home,In a cot by the brook; in a cot by the brook.With mother and sister and memories dear,He so gaily forsook; he so gaily forsook.Cooling shades of the night were coming apace,The tattoo had beat; the tattoo had beat.The noble one sprang from his dark lurking placeTo make his retreat; to make his retreat.He warily trod on the dry rustling leaves,As he pass'd thro' the wood; as he pass'd thro' the wood;And silently gain'd his rude launch on the shore,As she play'd with the flood; as she play'd with the flood.The guards of the camp, on that dark, dreary night,Had a murderous will; had a murderous will.They took him and bore him afar from the shore,To a hut on the hill; to a hut on the hill.No mother was there, nor a friend who could cheer,In that little stone cell; in that little stone cell.But he trusted in love from his father above,In his heart all was well; in his heart all was well.An ominous owl with his solemn bass voiceSat moaning hard by; sat moaning hard by."The tyrant's proud minions most gladly rejoice,For he must soon die; for he must soon die."The brave fellow told them, no thing he restrained,The cruel gen'ral; the cruel gen'ral;His errand from camp, of the ends to be gained,And said that was all; and said that was all.They took him and bound him and bore him away,Down the hill's grassy side; down the hill's grassy side.'Twas there the base hirelings, in royal array,His cause did deride; his cause did deride.Five minutes were given, short moments, no more,For him to repent; for him to repent;He pray'd for his mother, he ask'd not another;To Heaven he went; to Heaven he went.The faith of a martyr, the tragedy shew'd,As he trod the last stage; as he trod the last stage.And Britons will shudder at gallant Hale's blood,As his words do presage; as his words do presage."Thou pale king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe,Go frighten the slave; go frighten the slave;Tell tyrants to you their allegiance they owe.No fears for the brave; no fears for the brave."
The body of the Martyr Spy was never found. For many years there appears to have been some interest, but little knowledge, as to the place of Nathan Hale's execution. During the last one hundred and thirty-eight years, writer after writer has described his life and all the events connected with it as they are believed to have occurred; and, as was inevitable under the circumstances, some things have been written that the critical historian cannot indorse.
Until near the end of the nineteenth century no reliable information, even as to the place of his execution, had been gained. The late Mr. William Kelby, Librarian of the New York Historical Society, "an accepted authority on all subjects of this and kindred nature," is said to have undertaken to locate the exact spot where it occurred, and met with at least partial success.
Writing on the subject in 1893 he says in substance: When the British took possession of New York in September, 1776, after the battle of Long Island, General Howe occupied the Beekman house on Fifty-first Street and First Avenue as his headquarters, while the army extended across the island to the north of him. The corps of Royal Artillery occupied part of the high ground between Sixty-sixth and Seventy-second Streets, where they parked their guns and formed a camp.
Close to the camp were the old "five-mile stone" on the way to Kingsbridge, and a tavern long known as "The Sign of the Dove." The exact location of this tavern is shown from a survey of 1783 as being west of the post road on Third Avenue between Sixty-sixth and Sixty-seventh streets. It belonged, with four acres of land attached, to the City Corporation.
The extract already shown on page 82 is from an Orderly Book (discovered by Mr. Kelby) kept by an officer of the British Foot-Guards. Other entries read as follows:
"October 6. The effects of the late Lieutenant Lovell to be sold at the house near the Artillery Park.
"October 11. Majors of Brigade to attend at the Artillery Park near the Dove at five this afternoon."
The story of Hale's confinement in the Beekman greenhouse at Fifty-first Street and First Avenue on the night of September 21, 1776, is generally accepted. Former stories of the place of execution are disproved by the first extract from the Orderly Book, while the others indicate the location of the Artillery Park. It therefore appears that Hale was executed upon some part of this common land of the Corporation of the City of New York, and it is probable that his body was buried there.
The tract is now covered mainly by buildings devoted to educational and philanthropic uses. Possibly the dust of the Martyr Spy may lie in the grounds of the Normal, or Hunter, College.
Other materials, found since Mr. Kelby wrote, confirm his conclusions and make Third Avenue, not far north of Sixty-sixth Street, the most probable spot of Nathan Hale's death. The noblest educational institutions in New York City could have no more appropriate foundations than those laid above the bodies of patriots who have died, not only for the freedom of the city, but for that of the whole land.
For a time, as was inevitable, a pall seemed thrown over the memory of Nathan Hale, and at first only the love of his own family strove to commemorate his life and death. A stone was erectedto his memory in the cemetery at South Coventry, near the spot where his father expected to be buried. It still stands there and has been declared to be one of the best examples of the lettering of the times. It bears this inscription:
"Durable stone preserve the monumental record. Nathan Hale Esq. a Capt. in the army of the United States, who was born June 6th, 1755, and received the first honors of Yale College, Sept. 1773, resigned his life a sacrifice to his country's liberty at New York, Sept. 22d, 1776, Etatis 22d."
One by one were placed near his, his father's stone (his father died at eighty-five), and those of other members of his family. These graves are in a common burial lot near the Congregational Church in South Coventry where the family had worshiped.
In November, 1837, the Hale Monument Association was formed for the purpose of erecting at Coventry a fitting memorial of the martyr-soldier. Congress was applied to for several years, but was slow in appropriating money to honor the dead,—strangely unlike England in honoring her martyrs, as will be seen later.
Appeals were made to the State legislature, and Stuart, Hale's earliest biographer and sincere admirer, used his influence as a legislator in securing an appropriation of twelve hundred and fifty dollars. The women of Coventry redoubled their zeal, and by fairs, teas, etc., raised a sufficient sum, added to the grant from the legislature and contributions from some prominent men of the country, to pay for the cenotaph. It is a pyramidal shaft, resting on a base of steps, with a shelving projection one-third of the way up the pedestal. The material is of hewn Quincy granite. It was designed by Henry Austin of New Haven. It is fourteen feet square at the base and forty-five feet high. It was completed under the superintendence of Solomon Willard, architect of Bunker Hill Monument, at a cost of about four thousand dollars.
The inscription on the north side is, "Captain Nathan Hale, 1776"; on the west, "Born at Coventry, June 6, 1755"; on the east, "Died at New York, Sept. 22, 1776"; on the south, "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."
The monument stands on elevated ground. "Its site is particularly fine;... on the north it overlooks a beautiful lake, while on the east it looks through a captivating natural vista to greet the sun."
With the planning of this monument began the revival of interest in Nathan Hale's short but splendid career that is still gathering strength and will eventually establish his name among those of the bravest American patriots.
When Captain Montressor told Hale's dismayed friends of the terrible doom that had befallen their comrade, it must have seemed as if all the influence Hale might have had in a prolonged life, all that could come to such a man, had been sacrificed. We must not blame them if the question involuntarily rose in their hearts, "Why such waste? Why was such an influence so permanently destroyed?" Curiously enough, many years passed with little special notice by the public of Hale's death. But the leaven of patriotism works, even though slowly, and step by step Hale was coming to his own. Little by little the memory of his sacrifice for his country, and the fact that he had left words that should glow with increasing splendor, took possession of those who had ears to hear and hearts to remember.
Old Linonia in Yale did not forget the splendid boy, once its Chancellor, who died as he had lived. Linonia's records still bear, in clear andperfect lines, reports his hand had written when he was its most assiduous member. Others might have forgotten him; Linonia had not.
On its one-hundredth anniversary, July 27, 1853,—Commencement Week,—the poet of the occasion was Francis Miles Finch, Yale, 1846, later Judge of the New York Court of Appeals. As poet, Mr. Finch of course recalled many former members of the society. He ended with a poem on Nathan Hale in which he held his listeners spellbound as stanza after stanza, magnetic in proportion to their truthful beauty, fell from his lips.
There has been a further service to his country by Judge Finch. His own character has been graven into two different poems,—the one just referred to, and one that he wrote later. The latter poem had, undoubtedly, a powerful influence in causing our national Decoration Day to be celebrated throughout the United States.
The story of this poem is interesting. In a town in Mississippi certain Southern women went on a spring day, soon after the close of the Civil War, to cover with flowers the graves of their beloved dead. The gracious and tender thought must have come to them that in the graves of aliens buried among them lay those as deeply mourned in Northern homes as were those they themselves had loved.
Certainly no sweeter suggestion could have been more tenderly carried out than that which led these bereaved women to spread flowers over the graves of those who were once their enemies. Mr. Finch was told of this incident, and the lines he wrote show his appreciation of the "generous deed." The poem, "The Blue and the Gray," did much to heal the wounds in both North and South.
The two poems by Judge Francis Miles Finch are quoted here, the first with the drum-beat pulsing through it; the second in musical, flowing lines that carry in them sorrow, loyalty, and the community of a common bereavement.
And one there was—his name immortal now—Who dies not to the ring of rattling steel,Or battle-march of spirit-stirring drum,But, far from comrades and from friendly camp,Alone upon the scaffold.To drum-beat and heart-beatA soldier marches by;There is color in his cheek,There is courage in his eye,Yet to drum-beat and heart-beatIn a moment he must die.By starlight and moonlightHe seeks the Briton's camp,He hears the rustling flag,And the armèd sentry's tramp.And the starlight and moonlightHis silent wanderings lamp.With slow tread and still treadHe scans the tented line,And he counts the battery gunsBy the gaunt and shadowy pine,And his slow tread and still treadGive no warning sign.The dark wave, the plumed wave!It meets his eager glance;And it sparkles 'neath the starsLike the glimmer of a lance:A dark wave, a plumed wave,On an emerald expanse.A sharp clang, a steel clang!And terror in the sound;For the sentry, falcon-eyed,In the camp a spy hath found;With a sharp clang, a steel clang,The patriot is bound.With calm brow, steady brow,He listens to his doom;In his look there is no fearNor a shadow trace of gloom;But with calm brow and steady browHe robes him for the tomb.In the long night, the still night,He kneels upon the sod;And the brutal guards withholdE'en the solemn Word of God!In the long night, the still night,He walks where Christ hath trod.'Neath the blue morn, the sunny morn,He dies upon the tree;And he mourns that he can loseBut one life for Liberty;And in the blue morn, the sunny morn,His spirit-wings are free.His last words, his message words,They burn, lest friendly eyeShould read how proud and calmA patriot could die,With his last words, his dying words,A soldier's battle-cry!From Fame-leaf and Angel-leaf,From monument and urn,The sad of Earth, the glad of Heaven,His tragic fate shall learn;And on Fame-leaf and Angel-leaf,The name ofHaleshall burn!
By the flow of the inland river,Whence the fleets of iron had fled,Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,Asleep are the ranks of the dead:Under the sod and the dew;Waiting the judgment-day;Under the one the Blue;Under the other, the Gray.These in the robings of glory,Those in the gloom of defeat,All with the battle-blood gory,In the dusk of eternity meet:Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment-day;Under the laurel, the Blue;Under the willow, the Gray.From the silence of sorrowful hoursThe desolate mourners go,Lovingly laden with flowers,Alike for the friend and the foe:Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment-day;Under the roses, the Blue,Under the lilies, the Gray.So, with an equal splendor,The morning sun-rays fall,With a touch impartially tender,On the blossoms blooming for all:Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment-day;Broidered with gold, the Blue;Mellowed with gold, the Gray.So, when the summer callethOn forest and field of grain,With an equal murmur fallethThe cooling drip of the rain:Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment-day;Wet with the rain, the Blue,Wet with the rain, the Gray.Sadly, but not with upbraiding,The generous deed was done,In the storm of the years that are fadingNo braver battle was won:Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment-day;Under the blossoms, the Blue,Under the garlands, the Gray.No more shall the war cry sever,Or the winding rivers be red;They banish our anger foreverWhen they laurel the graves of our dead!Under the sod and the dew,Waiting the judgment-day;Love and tears for the Blue;Tears and love for the Gray.
On the one hundred and tenth anniversary of the evacuation of New York by the British—November 25, 1893—a bronze statue of Nathan Hale was presented to the city of New York. It was given by the New York Society of the "Sons of the American Revolution," a society founded in 1876 to perpetuate the memory and deeds of the war for American independence. The presentation was made by the president of the society, Mr. Frederic Samuel Tallmadge, the grandson of Major Tallmadge, Hale's classmate and fellow-captain. The statue is of bronze and is by Frederick Macmonnies of Paris. It represents Hale bareheaded, bound about his arms and his ankles, ready for his death. It was placed in City Hall Park where Hale was, for a time, supposed to have been executed. On the pedestal are graven his last wonderful words.
During the exercises at the unveiling of this statue Dr. Edward Everett Hale said: "The occasion, I suppose, is without a parallel in history. Certainly, I know of no other instance where, more than a century after the death of a boy of twenty-one, his countrymen assembled in such numbers as are here to do honor to his memory and to dedicate the statue which preserves it.
"He died near this spot, saying, 'I am sorry that I have but one life to give for my country.' And because that boy said those words, and because he died, thousands of other young men have given their lives to his country; have served her as she bade them serve her, even though they died as she bade them die."
The day's celebration was concluded by a dinner of the Society. Dr. Hale spoke on this occasion also. He said in part:
"Let us never forget that this is the monument of a young man—that he is the young man's hero. Let us never forget how the country then trusted young men and how worthy they were of the trust. It was at the very time of which I spoke that Washington first knew Hamilton and asked him to his tent. Hamilton had already won the confidence of Greene. Hamilton was, I think, in his nineteenth year. Knox, who commanded Hamilton's regiment, was, I think, twenty-four. Webb, who commanded Hale's regiment, was twenty-two. When, the next year, Washington welcomed Lafayette, whom Congress appointed major-general, he [Lafayette] was not twenty. And Washington himself, before whom others stood abashed, had only attained the venerable age of forty-four. The country needed her young men. She called for them and she had them. It is one of those young men who, dying at twenty-one, leaves as his only word of regret that he has but one life to give to her."
Although it is now known that Hale was not executed near City Hall Park, in some respects there could be no more fitting location for a monument to him than this, perhaps the busiest conflux of human beings that anywhere crowd this great city. Thousands pass this statue, learning from it their first lessons in American history. Hundreds have stopped, seeing this bareheaded, dauntless man, evidently doomed to die, to try to learn whence he came and why he stands there, appealing to the noblest patriotism—patriotism that must touch the heart of any man who knows the love of country.
Since this statue was placed, memorials of various kinds to Nathan Hale have been erected in several parts of the country. The schoolhouses in which he taught, although not occupying their original sites, have been restored, and are in possession of patriotic societies.
To-day Yale, endowed with buildings costing millions, is learning that stone and mortar, in edifices however beautiful, do not enshrine their noblest memories.
Through a few friends of Yale, a statue of Nathan Hale by Bela Lyon Pratt has recently been placed near the oldest college building, Connecticut Hall. This building has been restored to the appearance it bore when Nathan Hale dwelt therein. Who shall say that the statue of the bound boy, facing death so manfully, will not prove one of Yale's noblest endowments?
Still another beautiful statue of Nathan Hale by William Ordway Partridge may be seen in the city of St. Paul, Minn.
Happily, Nathan Hale's ability to die for his country is but one side of a Yale shield from which gleam the names of hundreds of her sons, who, doubtless as ready to die for their country as he, had they been in his place, have proved their power to live for God and for their native land. Everywhere, in all quarters of the world, the Nathan Hale spirit of unselfish devotion has inspired the sons of Yale to the noblest service they could render; and every man, young or old, who passes the statue of Nathan Hale will realize that hosts have lived lives inspired by the same splendid spirit.
Nathan Hale himself went forth from his alma mater filled with the joyous hopes and ambitions that have filled the souls of many other men, all unconscious of the fact that the finest heroism and the highest self-sacrifice lay just before him, but conscious that he meant to be ready for the best that life could give him. He was ready; and the best of life for him was the power to die as he died.
(1)Rev. Joseph Huntington, D.D.
A somewhat full description of the Rev. Joseph Huntington, D.D., is well worth placing among the friends of Nathan Hale. It was impossible for such a boy as Nathan to have been under the care of such a man as Dr. Huntington, first as pastor and then as his private teacher in his preparation for college, without having been strongly influenced by him. Indeed, scanning these old records of a parish of a hundred and fifty years ago, we cannot help feeling a strong personal attraction toward the Rev. Joseph Huntington.
Few men more fully prove the claim that many of the early New England pastors were eminently fitted to lead their people heavenward and also in the practical development of their daily lives.
Dr. Huntington lived a life evidently inspired by the finest ideals, and also by shrewd common sense, always so dear to the heart of a NewEnglander. It is a pleasure to recall the story of this man's useful life, and realize that besides the reverence almost invariably accorded to "the minister" in those days, he must have held the everyday affection and wholesome trust of his people. Year by year he proved himself not only their pastor, but a friend full of all kindly sympathies, never above a hearty laugh when mirth was rampant, or a sympathetic tear for hearts wrung with anguish.
He was born in Windham, Connecticut, in 1735. His ancestors came from England about 1640 and the family ultimately settled in Windham. His father, a man of somewhat arbitrary character, had determined that Joseph should be a clothier, and forced him to remain in that business until he was twenty-one. His intellectual ability was thought to be somewhat remarkable, and his moral character so good that his pastor advised him to begin a course of study for the ministry. He completed his preparation for Yale College in an unusually short time, and was graduated there in the year 1762.
His call to be settled over the First Church in Coventry was received so soon after his graduation that we are forced to believe that his theological course must have been brief. The parish in Coventry had been greatly reduced in numbers. The meeting-house had been allowed to go to decay, and the religious life of the parish was in a corresponding state of depression. His ordination services were held out of doors,—whether because the assemblage was too large for the church, or because the building was too dilapidated, does not appear. The first thing Mr. Huntington did after his settlement was to urge upon his people the project of building a new meeting-house. They responded so heartily that in a short time they had built the best church in the whole region, having expended for it about five thousand dollars—a large sum in those days.
Dr. Huntington does not appear to have been a laborious student. He had few books of his own, largely depending upon borrowing. But he had a remarkable memory and the power of so making his own whatever he read that his scholarship and his originality appear never to have been questioned. The Rev. Daniel Waldo says of him that he was rather above the middle height, slender and graceful in form, and that he seemed to have had an instinctive desire to make everybody around him happy. This, added to his uniform politeness, caused him to be very popular in general society.
The Rev. Mr. Waldo adds that Dr. Huntington was fond of pleasantry and gives this instance:
A very dull preacher who had studied theology with him was invited by his people to resign, and they paid him for his services chiefly in copper coin. On telling Dr. Huntington how he had been paid, he was advised to go back and preach a farewell sermon from the text, "Alexander the coppersmith did me much evil." Many such anecdotes and repartees of Dr. Huntington were current in Coventry for years after his death.
This brief summary of Dr. Joseph Huntington's life shows that the men to whom Richard Hale intrusted the preparation of his three sons for entering Yale was not only a Christian, but a gentleman of the finest culture. He was able not only to impart to Enoch, Nathan and David Hale the rudiments of scholarship requisite for entering Yale, but to inspire such boys with the keenest appreciation of courtesy, broad mental endowments, and a wholesome zeal for high public service.
The correspondence concerning the Union School in New London shows that Dr. Huntington gave Nathan Hale the necessary recommendation for the place. It is on record in Hale's diary that on December 27, 1775, the day after his arrival home from Camp Winter Hill, he visited Dr. Huntington;and in one of his New York letters he wrote, "I always with respect remember Mr. Huntington and shall write to him if time permits."
Admitting that Nathan Hale's father and mother were his most important early friends, we believe that Dr. Huntington, as pastor, tutor, and friend during the six years before Nathan entered college, may have stood not far behind the parents in deep influence upon his character—that splendid character, destined to be one of the beacon lights of our country's history.
(2)Alice Adams
Studying the lives of the founders of our republic, we are interested in noting the early marriages that so often occurred, and which seem to have been justified by the early mental maturity of the young men and women in the eighteenth century.
With early marriage, large families were the rule and not the exception; and eulogize the forefathers of New England as much as one may, no one at all familiar with the lives of the mothers of those generations can question the share that the foremothers had in broadening the lives and inspiring the characters of the husbands and sons in that early period. Nathan Hale showed the power of heredity, and Alice Adams, the woman he issaid to have loved, proved well that she too had come of no unworthy stock.
It has been given few women to be so worthily loved as was Alice Adams, from the time we catch our first glimpse of her till the last, in her eighty-ninth year. She was born in June, 1757. Her mother married Deacon Hale when Alice was in her thirteenth year. We do not know when Alice first met Nathan Hale; but we do know that while both were very young they found out that they loved each other, and proceeded to engage themselves without consulting their elders. Nathan had several years of work preparatory to his profession still before him, and, acting as they supposed in the best interests of both the boy and the girl, the mother and elder sister Sarah promptly discouraged the engagement and it was broken.
In February, 1773, while Nathan was still at Yale and before she was sixteen, Alice was married to Elijah Ripley, a prosperous merchant at Coventry. Within two years Mr. Ripley died, aged twenty-eight, leaving behind him a little son, also named Elijah, who died in his second year.
After Mr. Ripley's death, Mrs. Ripley with her baby boy returned to Deacon Hale's home almost as an adopted daughter, comfortably provided for by the estate of her late husband. A member ofthe Hale family, she must have seen that whatever was true of Nathan Hale in the days when they were boy and girl together, he, now a Yale graduate and a man among men, first as teacher and then as soldier, was even more worthy of her love than in their early days. It is probable that they corresponded more or less, though happily none of the letters of either are preserved for the curious to delight in. All we know is that in December, 1775, a year after her husband's death, Nathan Hale stopped in Coventry while absent from camp on army business, and the broken engagement has been said to have been then renewed, this time without opposition.
Having been married and widowed, and having lost her little son, Alice Adams Ripley was now free to listen to the claims of the first love that had entered her heart. What the few brief months that remained to Nathan Hale must have meant to Alice Ripley, believing in him and caring for him, only the noblest women can comprehend.
In regard to the letters written by Nathan Hale on the morning of his execution, one of these letters is said to have been written to his mother. One or two of his biographers have inferred that this must be an error, and that it was written to his father or to a brother. With the natural delicacy always soconspicuous in him, a letter to his "mother," so called, in reality the mother of one whom we believe to have been his betrothed wife, Alice Adams Ripley, who would show it to Alice and undoubtedly give it to her, was probably what he would have written. The others would know what he had written, but Alice Adams would doubtless possess the letter.
Alice Adams was to live many, many years, to become one of the most notable women in the city in which she dwelt; so honored that a copy of her portrait has long hung in the Athenæum, Hartford's finest shrine for such portraits.
It was said of her that for several years after Nathan's death she had no intention of marrying, but, after a widowhood of ten years, events—some say changed circumstances—led her to accept an offer of marriage from William Lawrence, of Hartford, which was thenceforth her home. For many years she was naturally associated with the social life of that city.
Whatever letters may have passed between Nathan Hale and Alice Adams Ripley, no trace of them remains to-day. For this we can only be grateful that, unlike other unfortunate lovers,—Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett Browing, for instance,—not one word remains of theircorrespondence. That belonged to him and to her alone. It is fortunate that no mere curiosity hunter can feast his eyes or gossip over the words these two people wrote to each other.
To Alice's husband Nathan's father gave the powder horn she once spoke of as having seen Nathan working upon in his customary intense fashion, "doing that one thing as if there was nothing else to be thought of at that time." Its being given to Mr. Lawrence by Nathan's father, to whom it must have been dear, proves that Mr. Lawrence, as well as his wife, was a welcome addition to the Hale family. Mr. Lawrence in turn gave it to his son William, and it is now treasured by the Connecticut Historical Society.
Mrs. Lawrence lived well into the nineteenth century, dying in 1845, in her eighty-ninth year. She was thoroughly appreciated in Hartford, but it is from the pen of a granddaughter, in a note written to the Hon. I. W. Stuart, that the best description of Mrs. Lawrence is given. Speaking of her grandmother she said: "In person she was rather below the middle height, with full, round figure, rather petite. She possessed a mild, amiable countenance in which was reflected that intelligent superiority which distinguished her even in the days of Dwight, Hopkins, and Barlow in Hartford—men who couldappreciate her, who delighted in her wit and work, and who, with a coterie of others of that period who are still in remembrance, considered her one of the brightest ornaments of their society.
"A fair, fresh complexion ... bright, intelligent, hazel eyes, and hair of a jetty blackness, will give you some idea of her looks—the crowning glory of which was the forehead that surpassed in beauty any I ever saw, and was the admiration of my mature years. I portray her, with the exception of the hair, as she appeared to me in her eighty-eighth year. I never tired of gazing on her youthful complexion—upon her eyes which retained their youthful luster unimpaired, and enabled her to read without any artificial aid; and upon her hand and arm, which, though shrunken much from age, must in her younger days have been fit study for a sculptor.
"Her character was everything that was lovely. A lady who had known her many years, writing to me after her death, says, 'Never shall I forget her unceasing kindness to me, and her noble and generous disposition. From my first acquaintance with her, and amid all the varied trials through which she was called to pass, I had ever occasion to admire the calm and christian spirit she uniformly exhibited. ToyouI will say it, I never knew so faultless a character—so gentle, so kind. Thatmeek expression, that affectionate eye, are as present to my recollection now as though I had seen them but yesterday.'
"Such is the language of one who had known her long and well and whose testimony would be considered more impartial than that of one who like myself had been the constant recipient of her unceasing kindness and affection."
When she died, the story of the early home of the Hales found its completion. Shall we pity them or congratulate them that in those long ago days so many sorrows came to them?—testing their strength, developing their faith, and fitting them, as their days went by, for life and service beyond.
The following chivalric poem was written by Nathan Hale—perhaps in camp. It expresses his mental as well as emotional appreciation of Alice Adams. It is here given exactly as it appears in the original manuscript, with almost no punctuation marks. It is probable that this is a first rough draft, intended to be improved at some future time. There are marks on the margin of the paper which show that the writer had possible alterations in mind.
Alicia, born with every striking charmThe eye to ravish or the heart to warmFair in thy form, still fairer in thy mindWith beauty wisdom sense with sweetness join'dGreat without pride, & lovely without ArtYour looks good nature words good sense impartThus formed to charm Oh deign to hear my songWhose best whose sweetest strains to you belong.Let others toil amidst the lofty airBy fancy led through every cloud aboveLet empty Follies build her castles thereMy thoughts are settled on the friend I love.Oh friend sincere of soul divinely greatShedest thou for me a wretch the sorrowed tearWhat thanks can I in this unhappy stateReturn to you but Gratitude sincereT'is friendship pure that now demand my laysA theme sincere that Aid my feeble songRaised by that theme I do not fear to praiseSince your the subject where due praise belongAh dearest girl in whom the gods have join'dThe real blessings, which themselves approveCan mortals frown at such an heavenly mindWhen Gods propitious shine on you they loveFar from the seat of pleasure now I roamThe pleasing landscape now no more I seeYet absence ne'er shall take my thoughts from homeNor time efface my due regards for thee.
(3)Benjamin Tallmadge
Benjamin Tallmadge, one year older than Nathan Hale, was Hale's classmate and one of his correspondents. Like Hale he became a teacher for a time, and then, entering the army, served with distinction throughout the war. He was intrusted by Washington with important services. In October, 1780, he was stationed with Col. Jameson at North Castle. He had been out on active service against the enemy and returned on the evening of the day when Major André had been brought there and had been started back to Arnold for explanations. This was four years after the death of Hale.
Listening to the account of the capture, and the pass from Arnold, Tallmadge at once surmised the importance of retaining André and insisted upon his being brought back.
When André was once more in American hands, Tallmadge is said to have been the first to suspect, from the prisoner's deportment as he walked to and fro and turned sharply upon his heel to retrace his steps, that he was bred to arms and was an important British officer. Major Tallmadge was charged with his custody, and was almost constantly with him until his execution. Tallmadge writes: "Major André became very inquisitive to know my opinion as to the result of his capture. In other words, he wished me to give him candidly my opinion as to the light in which he would beviewed by General Washington and a military tribunal if one should be ordered.
"This was the most unpleasant question that had been propounded to me, and I endeavored to evade it, unwilling to give him a true answer. When I could no longer evade his importunity and put off a full reply, I remarked to him as follows: 'I had a much loved classmate in Yale College, by the name of Nathan Hale, who entered the army in the year 1775. Immediately after the battle of Long Island, General Washington wanted information respecting the strength, position, and probable movements of the enemy.
"'Captain Hale tendered his services, went over to Brooklyn, and was taken just as he was passing the outposts of the enemy on his return.' Said I with emphasis,
"'Do you remember the sequel of this story?'
"'Yes,' said André, 'he was hanged as a spy. But you surely do not consider his case and mine alike?'
"I replied, 'Yes, precisely similar, and similar will be your fate.'
"He endeavored to answer my remarks, but it was manifest he was more troubled in spirit than I had ever seen him before."
Major Tallmadge walked with André from theStone House where he had been confined to the place of execution, and parted with him under the gallows, "overwhelmed with grief," he says, "that so gallant an officer and so accomplished a gentleman should come to such an ignominious end."
What would have occurred if André had not been recalled, but had reached Arnold—whether both could have escaped by boat to theVultureas did Arnold; whether Arnold, leaving André to his fate, could have escaped alone under these suspicious circumstances; or whether Hamilton and the others, who were dining with Arnold when the news of André's capture reached him, could have managed to hold both until Washington's arrival, cannot now be surmised. We only know that to Major Tallmadge belongs the credit of the recall and retention of André as a prisoner, thereby preventing the loss of West Point.
Major Tallmadge remained in the army and was greatly trusted by Washington, rendering important assistance in the secret service. He took part in many battles and in time became a colonel. For sixteen years he was in Congress. He died at the age of eighty, leaving sons and grandsons who won honored names in various callings.
(4)William Hull
When Captain William Hull, impelled by a strong natural caution, spoke as forcibly as he could of the disastrous results that might follow Nathan Hale's acceptance of the office of a spy in his country's service, he described not only the result of the failure which seemed almost inevitable, and which would result in a disgraceful death, but also the contempt that would be felt among his fellow-officers should he be successful. Hale, as we have seen, deliberately chose these dangers that appeared so appalling, and lost his life in the manner predicted by Hull.
Could Captain Hull, on that September day in 1776, have looked forward to other days in 1812, when, because of his surrender of Detroit, he himself would stand as the most disgraced man in the American army, he would have wondered what disastrous set of causes could have doomed him to lower depths of discredit than he had imagined possible for his friend Hale.
This is the story of Captain Hull as told by his grandson, the Rev. James Freeman Clarke, a Unitarian clergyman, and an author of high repute.
After remaining in the army throughout the Revolutionary War, where he distinguished himself on repeated occasions, constantly rising in rank, he settled in Massachusetts, practicing law, becoming prominent as a legislator, and finally as one of the Massachusetts judges. In 1805, as General Hull, he was appointed governor of the territory of Michigan by President Jefferson, and removed thither, stipulating that in case of war he should not be required to serve both as general and governor, as he did not believe the duties of both could be successfully administered by the same person.
The outbreak of the war of 1812, which occurred while Madison was President, found what was then the northern frontier of America wholly unprepared for hostilities. The country was new, with dense forests and few roads. There were no adequate means of land defense, and no adequate navy to patrol the lakes.
The British, as usual, had all the vessels needed, well-drilled soldiers, and, more terrible than all, more than a thousand Indians, ready to commit any atrocities upon defenseless white settlers. As Hull had insisted, another officer was appointed to command the troops, such as they were, but this officer became ill and Governor Hull was forced to take command.
In the meantime, no amount of urgent entreatiescould induce the authorities at Washington to send reënforcements to the assistance of the defenseless settlers. The American troops were unprepared to maintain their own position, and absolutely unable to conquer and annex Canada, as the government expected them to do. General Hull found himself with some eight hundred men facing more than fifteen hundred British regulars, and threatened in the rear by a thousand Indians.
What President Madison or any of his officers would have done, we cannot say. They appear to have thought that it was General Hull's duty to annihilate the British army, effectually dispose of the Indians, and present Canada to the American government.
General Hull, however, was a practical soldier. He knew the fate that would await the women and children in his territory, to say nothing of his small army, if he risked a battle and was defeated, as he surely would be; so he did what seemed to him the only possible thing to save the people of Michigan. He surrendered. Canada remained unannexed; the white settlers of Michigan were not delivered to the tender mercies of the Indians, and General Hull paid the penalty of the independent stand he had taken.
He probably foresaw that he must face a terribleordeal. The whole country appeared to be roused against him, and Hull at once became the best-hated man in America. A court-martial was appointed.
At first it was hoped that he would be convicted of treason, but the evidence showed that this charge could not be sustained. He was tried for cowardice in face of the enemy, found guilty, and sentenced to be shot. The latter part of the sentence President Madison remitted, in consideration of his past eminent services in the army. So, stamped with indelible disgrace by all who did not know the facts, a ruined and dishonored man, in his sixty-first year General Hull went back to the farm in Newton that had come to him through his wife. Here, surrounded by the most devoted affection, he passed his few remaining years.
A ruined and discredited man he truly was,—the reputation and the honor due him from his countrymen irrevocably lost and by no fault of his own. Yet his grandson, the Rev. James Freeman Clarke, asserts that he was not once heard to say an unkind word about the government that had treated him so cruelly.
After his death, in 1825, one of his daughters wrote the story of his life from his own writings, and the Rev. James Freeman Clarke sketched for the world an outline of his grandfather's services inMichigan. This shows that the man who, in his youth, tried to dissuade his friend Nathan Hale from accepting the rôle of martyr, himself, in his old age, bravely and gently endured a martyrdom compared to which the ostracism he predicted for Hale, even if he succeeded in his mission, was but a passing dream.