Nathan Hale

by Jean Christie Root

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's son, 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 the earliest 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.

Capture and Death of Nathan Hale

(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 place
To 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 voice
Sat 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.