CHAPTER VII.

Almost Universal Sympathy felt for André 105, 106

Honored by his King 106

A Monument to his Memory in Westminster Abbey, described 106-108

André's Remains removed to the Abbey 108

Memorials to mark the Place of his Execution 109-115

Memorial-Stone erected by Mr. Field at Tappaan 110-115

Mr. Field's Generous Proposition 110, 114, 118

Attempts to destroy the Field Memorial at Tappaan 117, 118

An Indignation Meeting at Tappaan 119

A Monument to mark the Place where André was captured at

Tarrytown 119-121

Biographical Sketch of Anna Seward 125

Monody on Major André 135

André's Letters to Miss Seward 152

Index 165

ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE

Nathan Hale's Birthplace _Frontispiece_

Fac-simile of Hale's Handwriting 6

Union Grammar School-house at New London 8

The Beekman Mansion 18

Beekman's Greenhouse 19

Cunningham destroying Hale's Letters 22

The Hale Monument at Coventry 26

Portrait of John André _face_ 37

Portrait of Honora Sneyd 39

The Mischianza Ticket 47

Lady's Head-Dress 48

The Joust at the Tournament 52

Fac-simile of Arnold's disguised Handwriting 65

Fac-simile of André's disguised Handwriting 65

Fac-simile of the Last Stanza of the Cow-Chase 78

The Smith House 82

Fac-simile of Arnold's Passport 87

Portrait of John Paulding 89

The Robinson House 95

"The '76 Stone House" 97

Washington's Headquarters at Tappaan 100

Passage from the Vulture 104

André's Monument in Westminster Abbey 107

Bowlder-Monument 109

Dean Stanley's Autograph 112

Memorial at Tappaan 116

Memorial at Tarrytown 120

Portrait of Anna Seward _face_ 125

NATHAN HALE.

NATHAN HALE.

CHAPTER I.

In a picturesque region of Tolland County, Connecticut, twenty miles

eastward of Hartford, situated upon an eminence which commands a

beautiful and extensive prospect westward toward the State capital,

there once stood, and perhaps now stands, a pleasant farm-house,

built of wood, and two stories in height.[1] In that house, on the

6th of June, 1755, a child was born whose name appears conspicuous

in our national history. It was a boy, and one of twelve children,

whose father, Richard Hale, had emigrated in early life from Newberry,

in Massachusetts, to Coventry, and there married Elizabeth Strong,

a charming maiden eighteen years of age. He was a descendant of

Robert Hale, or Hales, who settled in Charlestown, in 1632, and who

seems to have been a scion of the Hales of Kent, for he bore their

coat-of-arms--three broad arrows feathered white, on a red field.

Both Richard and Elizabeth Hale were of the strictest sect of the

Puritans of their day. They revered the Bible as the voice of God;

reverenced magistrates and gospel ministers as his chosen servants;

regarded the strict observance of the Christian Sabbath as a binding

obligation, and family worship and grace before meals as imperative

duties and precious privileges.

The sixth child of Richard and Elizabeth Hale they named NATHAN. He

was feeble in body at the beginning of his life, and gave very little

promise of surviving the period of infancy; but tender motherly care

carried him safely over the critical second year, and he became

a robust child, physically and mentally. He grew up a lively,

sweet-tempered, and beautiful youth; and these qualities marked his

young manhood.

Nathan Hale, the distinguished person alluded to, bright and active,

loved out-of-door pastimes, and communing with Nature everywhere. He

was conspicuous among his companions for remarkable athletism. He would

spring, with apparent ease, out of one hogshead into another, through a

series; and he would place his hand upon a fence as high as his head,

and spring over it at a bound with apparently little effort.

Having an intense thirst for knowledge, young Hale was very studious.

His father designed him for the Christian ministry, and he was fitted

for college by the Rev. Dr. Huntington, one of the most eminent

Congregational divines and scholars of his day, and then the pastor of

the parish in which Nathan was born.

Young Hale entered Yale College when in the sixteenth year of his

age. His brother Enoch, the grandfather of Rev. Edward Everett Hale,

of Boston, and two years the senior of Nathan, entered Yale at the

same time. The students then numbered about sixty. His course of

college-life was eminently praiseworthy; and he was graduated with the

highest honors in September, 1773. Popular with all the students, the

tutors, and the faculty, he was always a welcome visitor in the best

families of New Haven.

In the autumn of 1848 I visited the venerable Eneas Munson, M.D., at

New Haven. He had been assistant surgeon, under Dr. Thatcher, in the

old War for Independence. He knew young Hale well during the later

period of his life at Yale College, for he was then a frequent visitor

at the home of Dr. Munson's father.

"I was greatly impressed," said Dr. Munson, "with Hale's scientific

knowledge, evinced during his conversation with my father. I am sure

he was equal to André in solid acquirements, and his taste for art and

talents as an artist were quite remarkable. His personal appearance was

as notable. He was almost six feet in height, perfectly proportioned,

and in figure and deportment he was the most manly man I have ever met.

His chest was broad; his muscles were firm; his face wore a most benign

expression; his complexion was roseate; his eyes were light blue and

beamed with intelligence; his hair was soft and light brown in color,

and his speech was rather low, sweet, and musical. His personal beauty

and grace of manner were most charming. Why, all the girls in New

Haven fell in love with him," said Dr. Munson, "and wept tears of real

sorrow when they heard of his sad fate. In dress he was always neat;

he was quick to lend a helping hand to a being in distress, brute or

human; was overflowing with good-humor, and was the idol of all his

acquaintances."

Such was the verbal testimony of a personal acquaintance of Nathan Hale

as to his appearance and character. When he left Yale College.[2] Dr.

Jared Sparks, who knew several of Hale's intimate friends, writes of

him:

[Illustration: Please accept for yourself and Mrs. Munson the grateful

thanks of one who will always remember the kindness he ever experienced

whenever he visited your abode.

your friend,

Nathan Hale.

Fac-simile of Hale's Handwriting.]

"Possessing genius, taste, and order, he became distinguished as a

scholar; and, endowed in an eminent degree with those graces and gifts

of Nature which add a charm to youthful excellence, he gained universal

esteem and confidence. To high moral worth and irreproachable habits

were joined gentleness of manner, an ingenuous disposition, and vigor

of understanding. No young man of his years put forth a fairer promise

of future usefulness and celebrity; the fortunes of none were fostered

more sincerely by the generous good wishes of his associates, and the

hopes and encouraging presages of his superiors."

Among Hale's classmates was (afterward Major) Benjamin Tallmadge, who

had charge of André soon after his arrest. With William Robinson and

Ezra Samson he was engaged with Hale at their graduation, in a Latin

syllogistic dispute, followed by a debate on the question, "Whether the

education of daughters be not, without any just reason, more neglected

than that of the sons?"

"In this debate Hale was triumphant," wrote James Hillhouse, another of

his classmates, who was a few months his junior. "He was the champion

of 'The Daughters,' and most ably advocated their cause. You may be

sure that he received the plaudits of the ladies present."

On leaving college, Hale engaged in school-teaching for nearly two

years. He first taught a select school at East Haddam, on the left bank

of the Connecticut River, then a place of much wealth.

In 1774 he was called to the position of preceptor in the Union

Grammar-School at New London, an institution of high grade, intended to

furnish facilities for a thorough English education and the classical

preparation necessary for entering college. The school-building stood

on State Street. Young Hale was appointed its first preceptor after its

organization. It was a high compliment to his ability.

Hale's connection with this school was most agreeable. Everybody became

warmly attached to him. His life moved on in a placid current, with

scarcely a ripple upon its surface. He assiduously cultivated science

and letters, moved in the most refined society, and engaged in social

pleasures and religious repose. His future appeared full of joyful

promises.

[Illustration: Union Grammar School-house at New London.]

Suddenly war's alarms dispelled Hale's dream of quiet happiness.

The news of the bloodshed at Lexington and Concord aroused the

continent--New England in a special manner. A messenger, riding express

with the news, between Boston and New York, brought it to New London

late on the 21st of April. It created intense excitement. A town

meeting was called at the court-house at twilight. Among the speakers

present whose words fired the hearts of the eager listeners was Nathan

Hale. With impassioned language and intense earnestness he exhorted the

people to take patriotic action at once. "Let us march immediately,"

he cried, "and never lay down our arms until we have obtained our

independence!" This was the first public demand for independence made

at the beginning of the great struggle.

When the meeting adjourned, Hale, with others, enrolled himself as a

volunteer. A company was soon formed. On the following morning when the

school assembled, he prayed with his pupils, gave them good advice,

bade each one of them an affectionate farewell, and soon afterward

departed for Cambridge. He returned and resumed his duties at the

school, but it was not long before his intense desire to serve his

country caused him to enlist as a lieutenant of a company in Colonel

Charles Webb's regiment--a body raised by order of the General Assembly

for home defense, or, if necessary, for the protection of the country

at large.

Late in September Hale marched with his regiment to Cambridge, and

participated in the siege of Boston. He received the commission of

captain early in January, and was vigilant and brave at all times. The

British were driven from the New England capital in March (1776), and

sailed away to Halifax with a host of Tories, who fled from the wrath

of the Whigs whom they had oppressed. After the British left Boston,

the bulk of the American army proceeded to New York. So earnest and

unselfish was Hale's patriotism that, when, late in 1775, the men of

his company, whose term of service had expired, determined to return

home, he offered to give them his month's pay if they would remain so

much longer.

Soon after Hale's arrival at New York, he successfully performed a

daring feat. A British sloop, laden with provisions, was anchored in

the East River under the protection of the guns of the man-of-war

_Asia_ sixty-four. General Heath gave Hale permission to attempt the

capture of the supply-vessel. With a few picked men (probably of

Glover's brigade, who were largely seamen), as resolute as himself,

he proceeded in a whale-boat silently at midnight to the side of the

sloop, unobserved by the sentinel on the deck. Hale and his men sprang

on board, secured the sentinel, confined the crew below the hatches,

raised her anchor, and took her into Coenties Slip just at the dawn of

day. Captain Hale was at the helm. The victors were greeted with loud

huzzas from a score of voices when the sloop touched the wharf. The

stores of provisions of the prize-vessel were distributed among Hale's

hungry fellow-soldiers.

We have no information concerning Hale's movements from the time of his

capture of the supply-vessel until after the battle of Long Island.

He became captain of a company of Connecticut Rangers in May--a corps

composed of choice men picked from the different Connecticut regiments,

and placed under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas Knowlton, who

had distinguished himself in the battle of Bunker's (Breed's) Hill.

They were known as "Congress's Own."

In two or three letters written by Hale to his brothers in the earlier

part of the summer, he mentions some hostile movements, but there are

no indications that he was engaged in any of them. He seems not to

have been in the battle of Long Island or a participant in the famous

retreat of Washington across the East River, from Brooklyn, at the

close of August. He was among the troops that remained in New York when

the British invaded Long Island (for he was sick at that time), and

joined the retreating forces in their march toward Harlem Heights early

in September. He first appears after that movement in the presence of

Washington, at the house of the opulent Quaker merchant, Robert Murray,

on Murray Hill, to receive instructions for the performance of an

important mission. What was the nature of that mission? Let us see:

The American army on Manhattan Island was in a most perilous condition

after the retreat from Long Island. It was fearfully demoralized,

and seemed to be on the point of dissolution. Despair had taken

possession of the minds of the militia. They deserted by companies

and even by regiments. Impatient of restraint, insubordination

everywhere prevailed. The soldiers clamored for pay; the money-chest

was empty. They clamored for clothing and blankets, as cold weather was

approaching; the commissary could not respond. One third of the men

were without tents, and one fourth of them were on the sick-roll. Only

fourteen thousand men were fit for duty, and these were scattered in

detachments lying between each extremity of the island, a distance of a

dozen miles or more.

The British army was then twenty-five thousand strong, and lay in

compact detachments along the shores of New York Bay and the East

River, from (present) Greenwood Cemetery to Flushing and beyond. The

soldiers were veterans, and were flushed with the recent victory. They

were commanded by able generals. The army was supported by a powerful

naval force which studded with armed vessels the waters that clasped

Manhattan Island. Each arm of the service was magnificently equipped

with artillery, stores, and munitions of war of every kind.

Such was the condition and relative position of the two armies when, on

the 7th of September, Washington called a council of war to consider

the important questions, What shall be done? Shall we defend or abandon

New York?

Washington had already asked Congress, "If we should be obliged to

abandon the town, ought it to stand as winter-quarters for the enemy?"

He was answered by a resolve that, in case he should find it necessary

that he should quit New York, he should "have special care taken that

no damage be done to the city, Congress having no doubt of their being

able to recover it." It was resolved to remain and defend the city.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: See the frontispiece, copied from a drawing by J.W.

Barber, of New Haven, in 1840.]

[Footnote 2: Dr. Munson allowed me to read the following letter written

by Hale to his father, from New London, late in September, 1774, and to

make a _fac-simile_ of the last paragraph as seen above:

"New London, _November_ 30, 1774.

"SIR: I am very happily situated here. I love my employment; find many

friends among strangers; have time for scientific study, and seem

to fill the place assigned me with satisfaction. I have a school of

more than thirty boys to instruct, about half of them in Latin; and

my salary is satisfactory. During the summer I had a morning class of

young ladies--about a score--from five to seven o'clock; so you see my

time is pretty fully occupied, profitably I hope to my pupils and to

their teacher.

"Please accept for yourself and Mrs. Munson the grateful thanks of one

who will always remember the kindness he ever experienced whenever he

visited your abode.

Your friend,

Nathan Hale."]

CHAPTER II.

Perils were gathering thick and fast, and at another council, held on

the 12th, it was resolved to abandon the city and take a position on

Harlem Heights. The sick were sent over to New Jersey, and the public

stores were taken to Dobb's Ferry, twenty miles up the Hudson River.

Then the main army moved northward, leaving in the city a guard of four

thousand men under General Putnam, with orders to follow if necessary.

Washington made his headquarters at the house of Robert Murray on the

14th. The position of the American army now appeared more perilous

than ever. Two ships-of-war had passed up the East River. Others soon

followed. Scouts reported active movements among the British troops

everywhere, but could not penetrate, even by reasonable conjecture, the

designs of the enemy. It was of the utmost importance to know something

of their real intentions. Washington wrote to General Heath, then

stationed at Kingsbridge:

"As everything, in a manner, depends upon obtaining intelligence of the

enemy's motions, I do most earnestly entreat you and General Clinton to

exert yourselves to accomplish this most desirable end. 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 constant lookout, with good glasses, on some commanding

heights that look well on to the other shore."

The vital questions pressing for answer were, Will they make a direct

attack upon the city? Will they land upon the island, above the city,

or at Morrisania beyond the Harlem River? Will they attempt to cut

off our communications with the main, by seizing the region along the

Harlem River or at Kingsbridge, by landing forces on the shores of

the East and Hudson Rivers, at Turtle Bay, or at Bloomingdale, and,

stretching a cordon of armed men from river to river, cut off the four

thousand troops left in the city?

Washington, in his perplexity, called another council of war at

Murray's. He told his officers that he could not procure the least

information concerning the intentions of the enemy, and asked the

usual question of late, What shall be done? It was resolved to send a

competent person, in disguise, into the British camps on Long Island

to unveil the momentous secret. It needed one skilled in military and

scientific knowledge and a good draughtsman; a man possessed of a quick

eye, a cool head, unflinching courage; tact, caution, and sagacity--a

man on whose judgment and fidelity implicit reliance might be placed.

Washington sent for Lieutenant-Colonel Knowlton and asked him to

seek for a trustful man for the service, in his own noted regiment

or in some other. Knowlton summoned a large number of officers to a

conference at his quarters, and, in the name of the commander-in-chief,

invited a volunteer for the important service. They were surprised.

There was a long pause. Patriotism, ambition, a love of adventure,

and indignation, alternately took possession of their feelings. It was

an invitation to serve their country supremely by becoming a spy--a

character upon whom all civilized nations place the ban of scorn and

contumely! They recoiled from such a service, and there was a general

and even resentful refusal to comply with the request.

Late in the conference, when Knowlton had despaired of finding a man

competent and willing to undertake the perilous mission, a young

officer appeared, pale from the effects of recent severe sickness.

Knowlton repeated the invitation, when, almost immediately, the voice

of the young soldier was heard uttering the momentous words, "I will

undertake it!" It was the voice of Captain Nathan Hale.

Everybody was astonished. The whole company knew Hale. They loved and

admired him. They tried to dissuade him from his decision, setting

forth the risk of sacrificing all his good prospects in life and

the fond hopes of his parents and friends. They painted in darkest

colors the ignominy and death to which he might be exposed. His warmly

attached friend, William Hull (afterward a general in the War of 1812),

who was a member of his company and had been a classmate at college,

employed all the force of friendship and the arts of persuasion to bend

him from his purpose, but in vain. With warmth and decision Hale said:

"Gentlemen, I think 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 no mode of obtaining the information but by assuming a

disguise and passing into the enemy's camp. I am fully sensible of

the consequences of discovery and capture in such a situation. 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 make

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."

These manly, wise, and patriotic words--this willingness to sacrifice

himself, if necessary, for the good of his country--silenced his

brother officers. Accompanied by Knowlton, he appeared before

Washington the same afternoon, and received instructions concerning his

mission. His commander also furnished him with a general order to the

owners of all American vessels in Long Island Sound to convey him to

any point on Long Island which he might designate.

Hale left the camp on Harlem Heights the same evening, accompanied by

Sergeant Stephen Hempstead, a trustworthy member of his company, whom

he engaged to go with him as far as it would be prudent. He was also

accompanied by his trusty servant, Ansel Wright. They found no safe

place to cross the Sound until they arrived at Norwalk, fifty miles

from New York, owing to the presence of small British cruisers in those

waters. There Hale exchanged his regimentals for a citizen's dress

of brown cloth and a broad-brimmed round hat, and directed Hempstead

and Wright to tarry for him at Norwalk until his return, which he

supposed would be on the 20th. He directed a boat to be sent for him on

the morning of that day, and left with Hempstead his uniform and his

military commission and other papers.

There are somewhat conflicting accounts concerning Hale's movements

after he left Norwalk. All agree that he was conveyed across the Sound

to Huntington Bay, where he landed; that he assumed the character of a

schoolmaster and loyalist disgusted with the "rebel" cause, and that

he professed to be in quest of an engagement as a school-teacher.

It is known that he entered the British camps in personal disguise

and with the pretext of loyalty and the character of a pedagogue;

that he was received with great cordiality as a "good fellow"; that

he visited all the British camps on Long Island, made observations

openly, and drawings and memoranda of fortifications, etc., secretly;

that he passed over from Brooklyn to New York city and gathered much

information concerning affairs there, the British having invaded

Manhattan Island and secured possession of the town since his

departure;[3] and that he returned to Long Island and passed through

the various camps to Huntington Bay for the purpose of going back to

Norwalk.

Tradition tells us that Hale was conveyed from Norwalk to Huntington

Bay on a sloop, and was landed from her yawl two hours before daybreak

in the neighborhood of a place called "The Cedars." Near there a

Widow Chichester, a stanch loyalist (called "Widow Chich"), kept a

tavern, which was the resort of all the Tories in that region. Hale

passed this dangerous place with safety before cock-crowing, and at a

farm-house a mile distant he was kindly furnished with breakfast and

a bed for repose after his night's toil. Then he made his way to the

nearest British camp, and was received without suspicion of his real

character. Concerning his movements after that, until his return from

New York, tradition is silent.

Hale, on his return, had reached in safety the point on the Long

Island shore where he first landed, and prepared to recross the sound

at Norwalk the next morning. He wore shoes with loose inner soles.

Between the soles he had concealed the accurate drawings he had made of

fortifications, etc., and also his memoranda, written in Latin on thin

paper. He had given directions for the boat, from which he had landed,

to come for him on a designated morning, which would be the next after

his return. Satisfied that he was safe from harm, for he was remote

from a British post, and happy with the thought that his perilous

mission was ended successfully and that he should render his country

most important service, he awaited the coming morning with patience and

serenity of mind.

Feeling secure in his simple dress and disguised manner, Hale entered

the tavern of the Widow Chichester, at "The Cedars." A number of

persons were in the room. A moment afterward, a man, whose face seemed

familiar to him, suddenly departed and was not seen again.

Hale passed the night at the tavern, and at dawn went out to look

for the expected boat. To his great joy he saw one moving toward the

shore, with several men in it. Not doubting they were his friends, he

hastened toward the beach, where, as the vessel touched the shore,

he was astounded by the sight of a barge bearing British marines. He

turned to flee, when a loud voice called, "Surrender or die!" Looking

back he saw six men standing erect, with muskets leveled at him. He was

seized, taken into the barge, and conveyed to the British guard-ship

_Halifax_, Captain Quarne, which was anchored behind a point of wooded

land of Lloyd's Neck.

It has been asserted that the man who so suddenly departed from the

room of the tavern at "The Cedars" when Hale entered was a Tory cousin

of his, a dissipated fellow, who recognized his kinsman in disguise and

betrayed him into the hands of the enemy; but there is no warrant for

such an accusation.

Hale's captors stripped and searched him, and found the evidences of

his being a spy in the papers concealed between the soles of his shoes.

These formed as positive testimony as to his true character as did the

papers found in André's boot, which convicted the adjutant-general of

the British army of being a spy.

[Illustration: The Beekman Mansion.]

[Illustration: Beekman's Greenhouse.]

Captain Hale was taken in one of the boats of the _Halifax_ to General

Howe's headquarters, at the elegant mansion of James Beekman, at Mount

Pleasant, as the high bank of the East River at Turtle Bay was called.

The house was situated at (present) Fifty-first Street and First

Avenue. It was then deserted by its stanch Whig owner. Around it were

beautiful lawns and blooming gardens; and near it was a greenhouse

filled with exotic shrubbery and plants.[4] In that greenhouse Hale

was confined, under a strong guard, on Saturday night, the 21st of

September. He had been taken before Howe, who, without trial, and

upon the evidence found in his shoes, condemned him to be hanged early

the next morning. Howe delivered him into the custody of William

Cunningham, the notorious British provost-marshal, with orders to

execute him before sunrise the next day.

This severity, nay, absolute inhumanity, was doubtless the result

of great irritation of the minds of the British officers at that

moment. They had looked upon the little city of New York, containing

twenty thousand inhabitants, as a most comfortable place for their

winter-quarters. On the very morning when Hale was arrested (at a

little past midnight), a fearful conflagration was accidentally begun

at a low tavern on the wharf near Whitehall Slip (now Staten Island

Ferry). Swiftly the flames spread, and were not quenched until about

five hundred buildings were consumed. The British believed, and so

declared, that the fire was the work of Whig incendiaries, to deprive

the army of comforts. The city was yet ablaze while Hale was lying in

Beekman's greenhouse, awaiting his doom in the early morning.

When Hale was taken before Howe, he frankly acknowledged his rank and

his purpose as a spy. He firmly but respectfully told of his success

in getting information in the British camps, and expressed his regret

that he had not been able to serve his country better. "I was present

at this interview," wrote a British officer, "and I observed that the

frankness, the manly bearing, and the evident disinterested patriotism

of the handsome young prisoner, sensibly touched a tender chord of

General Howe's nature; but the stern rules of war concerning such

offenses would not allow him to exercise even pity."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 3: On the day after Hale's departure, a strong British force

crossed the East River and landed at Kip's Bay at the foot of (present)

Thirty-fourth Street, drove off an American detachment stationed there,

and formed a line almost across the island to Bloomingdale. On the 16th

detachments of the two armies had a severe contest on Harlem Plains, in

which the Americans were victorious, but at the cost of the life of the

gallant Colonel Knowlton.]

[Footnote 4: I made a sketch of the Beekman mansion in 1849, and of

the greenhouse in 1852, a few days before it was demolished, with all

the glories of the garden, at Mount Pleasant; for, at the behest of

the Street Commissioner, streets were opened through the whole Beekman

domain. The site of the greenhouse was in the center of (present)

Fifty-second Street, a little east of First Avenue. It was erected

with the mansion in 1764. The mansion was occupied, during the war,

as headquarters by Generals Howe, Clinton, and Robertson. It was the

residence of the Brunswick General Riedesel and his family in the

summer of 1780. General Carleton occupied it in 1783.]

CHAPTER III.

Long before daybreak of a Christian Sabbath, Nathan Hale was marched

to the place of execution, in the vicinity of (present) East Broadway

and Market Street. He was escorted by a file of soldiers, and there

delivered to the provost-marshal. The young commander of a British

detachment lying near, told Captain William Hull that on Hale's

arrival he requested Cunningham to allow him to sit in his (the

officer's) marquee while waiting for the necessary preparations. The

boon was granted. Hale requested the presence of a chaplain; it was

denied. He asked for a Bible; it was refused. At the solicitation

of the compassionate young officer in whose tent Hale sat, he was

allowed to write brief letters to his mother, sisters, and the young

maiden to whom he was betrothed;[5] but, when they were handed to the

provost-marshal to cause them to be forwarded, that officer read them.

He grew furious as he perceived the noble spirit which breathed in

every sentence, and with coarse oaths and foul epithets he tore them

into shreds before the face of his young victim. Hale gave Cunningham

a withering glance of scorn, and then resumed his usual calmness

and dignity of demeanor. Tho provost-marshal afterward said that he

destroyed the epistles "that the rebels should never know that they had

a man who could die with such firmness."

[Illustration: Cunningham destroying Hale's Letters.]

It was in the morning twilight of a beautiful September day that Hale

was led out to execution. The gallows was the limb of an apple-tree

in Colonel Rutgers's orchard.[6] Even at that early hour quite a

large number of men and women had gathered to witness the sad scene.

Cunningham watched every arrangement with evident satisfaction;

and, when everything was ready for the last scene in the tragedy,

he scoffingly demanded of his victim his "last dying speech and

confession!"

The soul of the young martyr, patriot, and hero, who was standing upon

the fatal ladder[7] with his eyes turned heavenward, was then in secret

communion with his Maker, and his mortal ears seemed closed to earthly

sounds. He did not notice the insulting words of the human fiend. A

moment afterward he looked benignly upon the evidently sympathetic

spectators, and with a calm, clear voice pronounced the last words

uttered by him:

"I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country!"

The women wept; some of them sobbed audibly. The sublime and burning

words of the victim about to be sacrificed upon the altar of liberty,

and the visible tokens of sympathy among those who witnessed the scene,

maddened the coarse-natured and malignant provost-marshal.[8] He cried

out in a voice hoarse with anger, "Swing the rebel off!" and cursed the

tearful women with foul imprecations, calling them rebels and harlots!

So ended, in an atmosphere of mingled Christian faith, fortitude, and

hope, and of savage barbarism and brutality, the beautiful life-drama

of Nathan Hale, the early martyr for the cause of human freedom in

the grand struggle for the independence of our country. It is a cause

for just reproach of our people that their history, poetry, oratory,

and art have, for more than a century, neglected to erect a fitting

memorial to his memory--either in the literature of the land he so

loved that he freely gave his young life a sacrifice for its salvation

from bondage, or in bronze or marble. Nowhere in our broad domain,

stretching from sea to sea, teeming with almost sixty million freemen,

is there even a mural tablet seen with the name of Nathan Hale upon it,

excepting a small monument in his native town, overlooking the graves

of his kindred, in an obscure church-yard, which was erected forty

years ago.

The body of the martyr was laid in the earth near the spot where his

spirit left it. A British officer was sent to acquaint Washington

with his fate. 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 long years revealed to passers-by the fact that it

was in commemoration of "Nathan Hale, Esq., a captain in the army

of the United States, who was born June 6, 1755, received the first

honors of Yale College, September, 1773," and "resigned his life a

sacrifice to his country's liberty at New York, September 22, 1776,

aged twenty-two." An entry of his death was made upon the town records

of Coventry.

Late in November, 1837--sixty-one years after his sacrifice--the

citizens of Coventry formed a "Hale Monument Association" for the

purpose of raising funds for the erection of a suitable memorial to

the memory of the young patriot. The association applied in vain to

Congress for aid. By fairs, tea-parties, private dramatic performances,

and other social appliances, carried on chiefly by the gentler sex,

and a grant of twelve hundred dollars by the State of Connecticut, a

sufficient sum was secured in 1846 to erect the desired monument.

At one of the fairs, a poem, addressed to "The Daughters of Freedom,"

and printed on white satin, was offered for sale, and was widely

distributed. It contained the following verses:

"Ye come with hearts that oft have glowed

At his soul-stirring tale,

To wreath the deathless evergreen

Around the name of Hale.

"Here his memorial stone shall rise

In freedom's hallowed shade,

Prouder than André's trophied tomb

'Mid mightiest monarchs laid."

[Illustration: The Hale Monument at Coventry.]

The Hale memorial stands upon elevated ground near the Congregational

Church in South Coventry, and by the side of the old burial-ground in

which repose the remains of his nearest kindred. Toward the north it

overlooks the beautiful Lake Waugumbaug, in the pellucid waters of

which Hale angled in his boyhood and early youth.

The monument was designed by Henry Austin, of New Haven, and was

erected under the superintendence of Solomon Willard, the architect of

the Bunker's Hill Monument. It was completed in the summer of 1846, at

a cost of three thousand seven hundred and thirty-four dollars. The

material is Quincy granite. Its form is seen in the engraving. The

height is forty-five feet, and it is fourteen feet square at its base.

The pedestal bears on its four sides the following inscriptions:

_North side_: "CAPTAIN NATHAN HALE, 1776." _West side_: "Born at

Coventry, June 6, 1755." _East side_: "Died at New York, September 22,

1776." _South side_: "I REGRET THAT I HAVE BUT ONE LIFE TO LOSE FOR MY

COUNTRY."

The fate of young Hale produced universal sorrow in the Continental

army and among the patriotic people. In the Whig newspapers of the day

tributes to his worth as a man and a patriot appeared in both prose

and verse.[9] During the War of 1812'-15, a little fort, erected

upon Black Rock, at the entrance to New Haven Harbor, on the site of

a smaller one, built during the Revolution, was named Fort Hale, the

first monument of stone that commemorated him. It has long been in

ruins. Then followed the simple structure built by his neighbors at

Coventry. Brief notices of the martyr have been given from time to time

in occasional poetic effusions and in oratory. Timothy Dwight, Hale's

tutor at Yale College, and afterward president of that institution,

wrote:

"Thus while fond Virtue wished in vain to save,

HALE, bright and generous, found a hapless grave;

With genius' living flame his bosom glowed,

And Science lured him to her sweet abode.

In Worth's fair path his feet adventured far,

The pride of peace, the rising hope of war;

In duty firm, in danger calm as even,

To friends unchanging, and sincere to Heaven.

How short his course, the prize how early won!

While weeping Friendship mourns her favorite gone."

I.W. Stuart, in his little biography of Hale,[10] has preserved

fragments of several poetic effusions. A short time after Hale's death,

an unknown personal friend of the martyr wrote a poem of one hundred

and sixty lines, in which he described the personal appearance of the

young soldier--tall and with "a beauteous face." Of his qualities of

temper and conduct he wrote:

"Removed from envy, malice, pride, and strife,

He walked through goodness as he walked through life;

A kinder brother Nature never knew,

A child more duteous or a friend more true."

Of Hale's motives in becoming a spy he wrote:

"Hate of oppression's arbitrary plan,

The love of freedom, and the rights of man;

A strong desire to save from slavery's chain

The future millions of the Western main."

The poet follows him in his career until he enters upon his perilous

mission under instructions from Washington. Of the final scene he wrote:

"Not Socrates or noble Russell died.

Or gentle Sidney, Britain's boast and pride,

Or gen'rous Moore, approached life's final goal,

With more composed, more firm and stable soul."

J.S. Babcock, of Coventry, wrote in the metre of Wolfe's "Sir John

Moore":

"He fell in the spring of his early prime,

With his fair hopes all around him;

He died for his birth-land--a 'glorious crime'--

Ere the palm of his fame had crowned him.

"He fell in her darkness--he lived not to see

The noon of her risen glory;

But the name of the brave, in the hearts of the free,

Shall be twined in her deathless glory."

In a poem delivered before the Linonian Society of Yale College, at its

centennial anniversary in 1853, a society of which Hale was a member,

Francis M. Finch said, in allusion to the martyr:

"To drum-beat and heart-beat,

A soldier marches by;

There is color on his cheek,

There is courage in his eye;

Yet to drum-beat and heart-beat

In a moment he must die.

"By starlight and moonlight

He seeks the Briton's camp;

He hears the rustling flag,

And that armèd sentry's tramp;

And the starlight and moonlight

His silent wanderings lamp.

"With slow tread, and still tread,

He scans the tented-line;

And he counts the battery-guns

By the gaunt and shadowy pine;

And his slow tread and still tread

Gives no warning sign.

"The dark wave, the plumed wave,

It meets his eager glance,

And it sparkles 'neath the stars

Like the glimmer of a lance;

A dark wave, a plumed wave,

On an emerald expanse.

* * * * *

"With calm brow, steady brow,

He listens to his doom;

In his look there is no fear,

Nor a shadow trace of gloom;

And with calm brow and steady brow

He robes him for the tomb.

"In the long night, the still night,

He kneels upon the sod;

And the brutal guards withhold

E'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 lose

But one life for Liberty;

And in the blue morn, the sunny morn

His spirit-wings are free!

* * * * *

"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 of HALE shall burn!"

At the dedication of a monument in 1853, erected on the spot near

Tarrytown where André was captured, the late Henry J. Raymond, in an

address on the occasion, said:

"At an early stage of the Revolution, NATHAN HALE, captain in the

American army, which he had entered, abandoning brilliant prospects

of professional distinction for the sole purpose of defending the

liberties of his country--gifted, educated, ambitious--the equal of

André in talent, in worth, in amiable manners, and in every manly

quality, and his superior in that final test of character--the motives

by which his acts were prompted and his life was guided--laid aside

every consideration personal to himself, and entered upon a service

of infinite hazard to life and honor, because Washington deemed

it important to the sacred cause to which both had been sacredly

set apart. Like André, he was found in the hostile camp; like him,

though without trial, he was adjudged as a spy; and, like him, he was

condemned to death.

"And here the likeness ends. No consoling word, no pitying or

respectful look, cheered the dark hours of his doom. He was met with

insult at every turn. The sacred consolations of the minister of

God were denied him; the Bible was taken from him; with an excess of

barbarity hard to be paralleled in civilized war, his dying letters

of farewell to his mother and sisters were destroyed in his presence;

and, uncheered by sympathy, mocked by brutal power, and attended only

by that sense of duty, incorruptible, undefiled, which had ruled his

life--finding a fit farewell in the serene and sublime regret that he

had 'but _one_ life to lose for his country'--he went forth to meet the

great darkness of an ignominious death.

"The loving hearts of his early companions have erected a neat monument

to his memory in his native town; but, beyond that little circle, where

stands his name recorded? While the majesty of England, in the person

of her sovereign, sent an embassy across the sea to solicit the remains

of André at the hands of his foes, that they might be enshrined in that

sepulchre where she garners the relics of her mighty and renowned sons--

'Splendid in their ashes, pompous in the grave,'

the children of Washington have left the body of HALE to sleep in its

unknown tomb, though it be on his native soil, unhonored by any outward

observance, unmarked by any memorial stone. Monody, eulogy, monument of

marble or of brass, and of letters more enduring than all, have in his

own land and in ours given the name and fate of André to the sorrowing

remembrance of all time to come. American genius has celebrated his

praises, has sung of his virtues, and exalted to heroic heights his

prayer, manly but personal to himself, for choice in the manner of

death--his dying challenge to all men to witness the courage with which

he met his fate. But where, save on the cold page of history, stands

the record of HALE? Where is the hymn that speaks to immortality, and

tells of the added brightness and enhanced glory when his soul joined

its noble host? And where sleep the American of Americans, that their

hearts are not stirred to solemn rapture at the thought of the sublime

love of country which buoyed him not alone 'above the fear of death,'

but far beyond all thought of himself, of his fate and his fame, or of

anything less than his country--and which shaped his dying breath into

the sacred sentence which trembled at the last upon his quivering lip?"

These eloquent words have a deeper significance to-day than when they

were uttered a generation ago. It is a just reproach to a nation of

nearly sixty million freemen, rich and powerful beyond any other people

on the globe, that the memory of NATHAN HALE, their self-sacrificing

benefactor in purpose, and a true and noble martyr in the cause of

the liberty they enjoy, has been, until lately, absolutely neglected

by them; that no "monody, eulogy, monument of marble or of brass,"

dedicated to him by the public voice, appears anywhere in our broad

land. But there are now abundant promises that this reproach will be

speedily removed. An earnest effort was begun by the "Daily Telegraph,"

a morning journal of New York city, late in 1885, to procure funds by

half-dime or "nickel" subscriptions, sufficient to erect a suitable

monument to the memory of NATHAN HALE, in the city of New York, where

he suffered martyrdom. There is also a project on foot for the erection

of a statue of Hale in the Connecticut State Capitol at Hartford. For

this purpose the State of Connecticut has appropriated five thousand

dollars.

Let the conscience of our people, inspired by gratitude and patriotism,

be fairly awakened to the propriety of the undertaking, and funds will

speedily be forthcoming sufficient to erect a magnificent monument

in memory of NATHAN HALE, in the city where he died for his country.

I recommend, as a portion of the inscription upon the monument, the

subjoined epitaph, written fully thirty years ago, by George Gibbs, the

ripe scholar and antiquary, who was at one time the librarian of the

New York Historical Society:[11]

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 NOT ONE 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!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: Her name was Alice Adams. She was a native of Canterbury,

Connecticut, and was distinguished both for her intelligence and

personal beauty. After Hale's death she married Eleazar Ripley, who

left her a widow, with one child, at the age of eighteen years. The

child died about a year after its father's death, and the mother

subsequently married William Lawrence, of Hartford, where she lived

until September, 1845, when she died at the age of eighty-eight

years. She possessed a miniature of Hale and many of his letters. The

miniature and the letters disappeared many years ago, and there is no

likeness of the young martyr extant. The last words uttered by Hale's

betrothed were, "Write to Nathan!"--Stuart's "Life of Nathan Hale," p.

28.]

[Footnote 6: The place of Hale's execution has been a subject of

conjecture. Some have supposed that it occurred near the Beekman

mansion, Howe's headquarters; others, that he was taken from the

Provost Prison (now the Hall of Records), in the City Hall Park, to

the usual place of execution of state criminals, at the Barracks near

Chambers Street; and others, on the farm of Colonel Rutgers, whose

country mansion was near the East River--at Pike and Monroe Streets.

In 1849 I visited the venerable Jeremiah Johnson, ex-Mayor of Brooklyn,

who was living at his farm-house not far from the Navy-Yard, then

between the city of Brooklyn and the village of Williamsburgh.

Among other interesting facts concerning the Revolution, of his own

experience and observation, which he had treasured in his memory, was

that his father was present at the execution of Hale. Like other Long

Island farmers at that time, he went to New York occasionally with

truck. On the day of the great fire he was there, when himself and his

team were pressed into the service of the British. He was with the

detachment on Colonel Rutgers's farm at the time of the execution,

and saw the martyr hanged upon the limb of an apple-tree in Rutgers's

orchard. It was at the west side, not far from the line of (present)

East Broadway.]

[Footnote 7: The method employed at military executions at that time

was to place a ladder against the gallows-beam or limb, cause the

prisoner to ascend it a few feet, and, at a given signal, turn the

ladder and leave the victim suspended.]

[Footnote 8: The pen of every writer who has noticed the career of

William Cunningham, the notorious provost-marshal of the British army

in New York and Philadelphia, has portrayed him as a most detestable

character. To the credit of the commander with whom he served, be it

said that it is satisfactorily proven that he was employed directly

by the British ministry, and was independent of the authority of Howe

and Clinton. He was a large, burly, red-haired, red-faced Irishman,

sixty years of age, addicted to strong drink to excess, and with most

forbidding features. His cruelties and crimes committed while in charge

of prisoners of war in New York were notorious and monstrous. Upon the

scaffold in England, after the war, he confessed that he had caused the

death of fully two thousand prisoners under his charge by starvation

and otherwise. He put poison into their food at times, and sold their

rations for his own benefit, allowing the prisoners to starve!]

[Footnote 9: A ballad was written and published, soon after Hale's

death, which was very popular at the time. It was evidently written by

one who was not well informed as to the true history of the matter. Of

his arrest the ballad says:

"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 passed through the wood, as he passed through the wood,

And silently gained his rude launch on the shore,

As she played with the flood, as she played with the flood.

"The guards of the camp on that dark, dreary night

Had a murderous will, 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."]

[Footnote 10: "Life of Captain Nathan Hale, the Martyr Spy of the

American Revolution." By I.W. Stuart, Hartford, 1856.]

[Footnote 11: A statue in plaster, modeled from a description of

Hale's features and person, has been made by E.S. Wood, sculptor. It

represents an athletic young man, with his coat and vest removed, his

neck and upper portion of his chest bared by the turning down of the

collar of his ruffled shirt, and holding in his right hand, which is

resting upon his hip, the rope with which he is about to be suspended

from the tree. The face of the martyr is an excellent ideal of the

character of the young hero.]

JOHN ANDRÉ.

[Illustration: John André]

JOHN ANDRÉ.

CHAPTER I.

It is not known whether the place of JOHN ANDRÉ'S nativity was in

London or elsewhere in England. His father was a Switzer, born in

Geneva. He was a merchant in London, where he married a pretty French

maiden named Girardot, a native of that city, who in the year 1751

became the mother of the famous British spy.

Of André's childhood and early youth very little is known, even of the

scenes of his primary education. Later, we find him at the University

in Geneva; and, when he was approaching young manhood, he was

distinguished for many accomplishments and solid acquirements. He had

mastered several European languages, and was an expert mathematician.

He was versed in military science, and had a wide acquaintance with

_belles-lettres_ literature. He was an adept in music, dancing, and the

arts of design, and was specially commended for his military drawings.

André had a taste and a desire for military life; but, before he was

seventeen years of age, he was called home to take a place in his

father's counting-room. At that time his family lived at the Manor

House, Clapton, where his father died in the spring of 1769. The family

then consisted of the widow, two sons, and three daughters. Of these

John was the oldest and Anna was the youngest--the "tuneful Anna," as

Miss Seward calls her in her "Monody," because of her poetic genius.

John, though so young, was now a chief manager of his father's business

and the head of his mother's household. The summer of 1769 was spent

by the family at little villages in the interior of England, in the

picturesque region of Lichfield, a famous cathedral town, in which Dr.

Johnson was born, and at its grammar-school he and Addison and Garrick

received their earlier education.

In that delightful neighborhood young André formed an acquaintance

with Miss Anna Seward, the bright and charming daughter of Rev.

Thomas Seward, canon-resident of Lichfield Cathedral, who lived in

the bishop's palace. His daughter, then twenty-two years of age, was

already distinguished as a poet. Her home was the gathering-place

of the local literary celebrities of that day--Dr. Erasmus Darwin,

author of "The Botanic Garden," and grandfather of the champion

of the doctrine of evolution in our day; Thomas Hayley, author of

"The Triumphs of Temper"; Sir Brooke Boothby, who wrote "Fables and

Satires"; Richard Lovell Edgeworth, a "gay Lothario," with some

literary pretensions; Thomas Day, an eccentric philosopher, who wrote

the story of "Sandford and Merton," once as popular as "Robinson

Crusoe"; the blind and ill-humored Miss Anna Williams, the biographer

of the Emperor Julian; and other residents or occasional sojourners.

Miss Seward was the central figure in this literary circle. Her

personal beauty, vivacity, wit, and charming conversational powers,

were very fascinating. Into that galaxy John André was introduced and

gave it additional luster.

The young London merchant also became acquainted with another maiden

near his own age. She is represented as exceedingly lovely in person

and character. Her eyes were blue, her hair was of a golden color, and

her complexion was brilliant, heightened in its charms, perhaps, by a

hectic glow upon her cheek--the sad prophecy of the early fading of

youthful beauty and of life. The maiden was Honora Sneyd, an inmate of

the family of Canon Seward, and the loved companion of Anna.

[Illustration: Honora Sneyd.--(From a painting by Romney.)[12]]

André was then eighteen years of age; a handsome, slender, graceful,

and vivacious youth, with features as delicate as those of a girl,

and accomplished beyond most young men of his time. He was five feet

nine inches in height, dark complexion, dark eyes, brown hair, with

a somewhat serious and tender expression. His manners were easy and

insinuating. The young couple fell desperately in love with each other

at their first meeting.

Anna was delighted, and she fostered the passion. The lovers were

betrothed before the summer was over; but "Love's young dream" was

disturbed. The father of Miss Sneyd and the mother of André decided

that both were too young for wedlock then, and it was agreed that at

least two years should intervene between betrothal and nuptials. It was

also deemed proper that they should be kept apart as much as possible

during that period, in order to test the strength and reality of their

attachment, and for other prudential reasons.

With this understanding André returned to his desk in London, a hundred

and twenty miles away. He had sketched two miniatures of Miss Sneyd.

One he gave to Anna Seward, the other he placed in a locket and carried

it in his bosom. He also arranged for a correspondence between Miss

Seward and himself, of which Honora was to be the chief burden. Three

of these letters have been preserved, and are printed in this volume.

"His epistolary writings," says Dr. Sparks, "so far as specimens of

them have been preserved, show a delicacy of sentiment, a playfulness

of imagination, and an ease of style, which could proceed only from

native refinement and a high degree of culture."

André had an aversion to mercantile pursuits, and had told his

Lichfield friends that he greatly preferred the military profession.

Miss Seward urged him to stick to his desk, as the only sure promise

of a competence which would enable him to marry Honora. Her persuasion

prevailed, and he resolved to remain a merchant, for a time at least.

In one of his letters to her he wrote:

"I know you will interest yourself in my destiny. I have now completely

subdued my aversion to the profession of a merchant, and hope, in time,

to acquire an inclination for it.... When an impertinent consciousness

whispers in my ear that I am not of the right stuff for a merchant,

I draw my Honora's picture from my bosom, and the sight of that dear

talisman so inspirits my industry that no toil seems oppressive."

This correspondence was kept up several months, but André's suit did

not prosper. Distance, separation, and various circumstances cooled the

ardor of Miss Sneyd's love for her young admirer, and correspondence

between them ceased. She had other suitors; and, in 1773, she married

Richard Lovell Edgeworth, a gay young widower of twenty-five, who

possessed a handsome fortune in the form of a fine estate in Ireland.

Honora became the mother of Maria Edgeworth, the novelist. She died

of consumption a few years afterward. In compliance with her dying

request, her husband married her sister Elizabeth for his third wife.

André remained faithful to his first love, and carried Honora's

miniature in his bosom until he died. He abandoned the mercantile

business in 1771, joined the royal army with the commission of

lieutenant in 1772, and went over to Germany. He joined his

regiment--the Royal English Fusileers--in Canada, late in 1774, having

made a farewell visit to his stanch friend Miss Seward before he sailed

for America. During that visit a singular circumstance occurred. Miss

Seward took André a little distance from Lichfield to call upon two

literary friends, Mr. Cunningham, and a curate, the Rev. Mr. Newton.

She had apprised them of the intended visit.

Mr. Cunningham afterward related to Miss Seward a singular dream he had

on the night before this visit. He was in a great forest. A horseman

approached at full speed. As he drew near, three men suddenly sprang

from their concealment in bushes, seized the rider, and took him away.

The appearance of the captive's face was deeply impressed upon the

dreamer's memory. He awoke, fell asleep again, and dreamed. He was

now in a vast crowd of people, near a great city. The man whom he saw

captured in the forest was now brought forth and hanged. This dream was

related to the curate the next morning, and when, a while afterward,

Miss Seward with her friend arrived, Mr. Cunningham recognized in André

the person he saw captured and hanged.

Other presaging visions concerning André's fate have been related, some

of them being undoubtedly pure fiction. For example: Soon after the

evacuation of Philadelphia by the British in 1778, and the Americans

had taken possession of the city, some of the Continental officers gave

a dinner-party to Washington at a spacious mansion in the suburbs, once

belonging to one of the Penn family. At that banquet were two ladies

who had known Major André during the British occupation, and had dined

with him at this Penn mansion. As they were passing through a grove

near the house on that occasion, they both saw at the same moment the

body of a man suspended from a limb, and recognized his features as

those of André. They spoke of the vision at the table, and were laughed

at; even Washington joining in the merriment. This ghost-story may be

thus disposed of: Washington was not in Philadelphia at any time in the

year 1778. At the time above mentioned he was chasing Sir Henry Clinton

across New Jersey.

The following account appears to be well authenticated: A feminine

friend of Miss Mary Hannah, a sister of André, shared a bed with her

one night at about the time of her brother's execution. The friend was

awakened by the loud sobs of Miss André, who said she had seen her

brother made a prisoner. Her friend soothed her into quiet, and both

fell asleep. Soon Miss André again awoke her friend, and said she had

again seen her brother on trial as a spy. She described the scene with

great particularity. Again she was quieted, and both fell asleep. Again

she aroused her friend by screaming, "They are hanging him!" They both

made a memorandum of the affair. The next mail brought the sad news of

André's execution at about the time when his sister, Mary Hannah, saw

him in her vision.

Lieutenant André journeyed from England to Quebec, by way of

Philadelphia. Why did he take this roundabout course? He arrived at

Philadelphia in September (1774), just after the first Continental

Congress began its session there. His abilities as a keen observer

of men and things were well known to General Carleton, the Governor

of Canada, who arrived at Quebec from England while André was in

Philadelphia. May not that astute officer have directed André,

before he left England, to go to Philadelphia as a spy, to learn

what he could of the condition of public affairs, and the temper of

the people in the disturbed colonies, and especially the designs of

the Continental Congress? From Philadelphia he went to New York and

Boston, and thence by water to Quebec, everywhere traveling, without

recognition, in citizen's dress. He undoubtedly carried to Carleton

much valuable information which that wide-awake officer desired to

know. André arrived at Quebec early in November.

A year later Lieutenant André was made a prisoner of war when

Montgomery captured the fort at St. Johns, on the Sorel. "I have been

taken a prisoner by the Americans," André wrote to Miss Seward, "and

stripped of everything except the picture of Honora, which I concealed

in my mouth. Preserving this, I yet think myself fortunate." He and

his fellow-prisoners were taken first to Connecticut, and then to

Lancaster and Carlisle in Pennsylvania. There he made many friends by

his urbanity, his refined tastes, and his accomplishments. He taught

the children of citizens the art of drawing in a free and easy style;

and he was a welcome guest in the higher social circles, was made a

participant in all their pleasure-parties, and so added to their own

enjoyments.

Toward the close of 1776 André was exchanged and joined the British

army in New York, then commanded by General Howe. To that officer

he presented a memoir on the existing war, which was very favorably

received. He had kept a journal ever since he came to America, in

which both pen and pencil were jointly employed in the delineation and

description of everything of interest which came under his observation,

and this furnished him with much material for his memoir. Howe was

delighted with his young soldier, and as soon as a vacancy occurred he

gave him the position of aide on the staff of General Grey, with the

rank of captain. He was now fairly in the line of promotion which his

signal abilities entitled him to receive.

André served with distinction as a staff-officer. He was the soul of

the military social circle during the occupation of Philadelphia by the

British army in the winter and spring of 1778. His pen, his pencil, and

his brush, were continually busy in satirizing and caricaturing the

"rebel" officers, or in dramatic exhibitions. He was a leader in all

the social amusements of the army, the chief of which were theatrical

performances. In these André was dramatist, actor, song-writer, and

manager. He wrote prologues and localized plays, and was the chief

manager of weekly balls. In a word, he was leader in setting on foot

scenes of gayety and extravagance that were long remembered and

lamented. André occupied the house of Dr. Franklin for several months.

He carried away some valuable books.

Many of the young officers were scions of the British nobility,

and possessed ample means for the gratification of any desire. The

infection of demoralization that spread through the army and society

was fearful. The army suffered much. Dr. Franklin said, "Howe did

not take Philadelphia--Philadelphia took Howe." Cupid scattered his

darts so widely and with such effect among the soldiers, that in the

flight of the British army across New Jersey, on the evacuation of

Philadelphia, fully six hundred soldiers deserted and returned to their

sweethearts and lately married wives.

Many of the fair daughters of the Philadelphia loyalists were

captivated by the young British officers. Among the latter was not

one more fascinating than Major André, and no one was more welcome

into the best society. He formed warm friendships with several leading

families; among others, that of Edward Shippen, one of the wealthiest

and most cultivated citizens, whose youngest daughter married General

Benedict Arnold.

Late in May, 1778, General Howe surrendered the command of the army

into the hands of Sir Henry Clinton, and prepared to return to England.

The officers of the army, who were very much attached to him, resolved

to give him a spectacular parting entertainment which should eclipse in

novelty and splendor anything ever seen in America. In the conception

and preparation of the entertainment the genius of André, in all its

phases, was brought into requisition. He designed the decorations, the

costumes to be worn, even the ticket of admission to the show. The

entertainment was called _Mischianza_--a medley. It was given at the

country-seat of Thomas Wharton, a Philadelphia Quaker--a fine, stately

mansion, with spacious grounds around it, standing near the present

navy-yard.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 12: In a letter to the Right Honorable Lady Butler, dated

Lichfield, June 4, 1798, Miss Seward speaks of the picture as follows:

"Honora Sneyd, after she became Mrs. Edgeworth, sat to Smart, at

that time a celebrated miniature-painter. He totally missed the

likeness which Major André had, from his then inexperience in the

art, so faintly and with so little justice to her beauty, caught.

Romney accidentally, and without ever having beheld her, produced it

completely. Yes, he drew, to represent the Serena of the 'Triumph

of Temper,' his own abstract idea of perfect loveliness, and the

form of the face of Honora Sneyd rose beneath his pencil." Serena is

represented reading by candle-light.]

CHAPTER II.

In a letter to his friend Miss Seward, dated Philadelphia, May 23,

1778, Major André gave the following account of the great _fête_ in

honor of General Howe:

"That our sentiments might be the more unreservedly and unequivocally

known, it was resolved among us that we should give him as splendid an

entertainment as the shortness of the time and our present situation

would allow us. For the expenses the whole army would most cheerfully

have contributed; but it was requisite to draw the line somewhere,

and twenty-two field-officers joined in a subscription adequate to a

plan they meant to adopt. I know your curiosity will be raised on this

occasion; I shall, therefore, give you as particular an account of our

_Mischianza_[13] as I have been able to collect.

[Illustration: The Mischianza Ticket.--(Drawn by Major André.)[14]]

"From the name you will perceive that it was made up from a variety

of entertainments. Four of the gentlemen subscribers were appointed

managers--Sir John Wrottesley, Colonel O'Hara, Major Gardiner, and

Montressor, the chief engineer. On the tickets of admission which

they gave out for Monday, the 18th, was engraved, in a shield, a view

of the sea, with the setting sun, and in a wreath the words '_Luceo

discedens, aucto splendore resurgam._' At top was the general's crest,

with '_vive! vale!_' All round the shield ran a vignette, and various

military trophies filled up the ground.[15]

[Illustration: Lady's Head-Dress.

(Drawn by Major André.)]

"A grand regatta began the entertainment. It consisted of three

divisions. In the first place was the _Ferret_ galley, having on board

several general officers and a number of ladies. In the center was the

_Hussar_ galley, with Sir William and Lord Howe, Sir Henry Clinton,

the officers of their suite, and some ladies. The _Cornwallis_ galley

brought up the rear, having on board General Knyphausen and his suite,

the British generals, and a party of ladies. On each quarter of these

galleys, and forming their division, were five flat-boats, lined with

green cloth, and filled with ladies and gentlemen. In front of the

whole were three flat-boats, with a band of music in each. Six barges

rowed about each flank, to keep off the swarm of boats that covered

the river from side to side. The galleys were dressed out in a variety

of colors and streamers, and on each flat-boat was displayed the flag

of its own division. In the stream opposite the center of the city the

_Fanny_, armed ship, magnificently decorated, was placed at anchor;

and at some distance ahead lay his Majesty's ship _Roebuck_, with the

admiral's flag hoisted at the foretopmast-head. The transport ships,

extending in a line the whole length of the town, appeared with colors

flying and crowded with spectators, as were also the openings of the

several wharves on the shore, exhibiting the most picturesque and

enlivening scene the eye could desire. The rendezvous was at Knight's

wharf, at the north end of the city."[16]

* * * * *

After giving an account of the aquatic procession down the river, André

continues:

"The landing-place was the Old Fort, a little to the southward of the

town,[17] fronting the building prepared for the reception of the

company, about four hundred yards from the water by a gentle ascent. As

soon as the general's barge was seen to push for the shore, a salute of

seventeen guns was fired from the _Roebuck_, and, after some interval,

by the same number by the _Vigilant_. The company, as they disembarked,

arranged themselves into a line of procession, and advanced through an

avenue formed by the two files of grenadiers, and a line of light horse

supporting each file. This avenue led to a square lawn of two hundred

and fifty yards on each side, lined with troops, and properly prepared

for the exhibition of a tilt and tournament, according to the customs

and ordinances of ancient chivalry. We proceeded through the center of

the square. The music, consisting of all the bands of the army, moved

in front. The managers, with favors of white and blue ribbons on their

breasts, followed next in order. The general, admiral, and the rest of

the company, succeeded promiscuously.

"In front of the building, bounding the view through a vista formed by

two triumphal arches, erected at proper intervals in a line with the

landing-place, two pavilions, with rows of benches rising one above

another, and serving as the wings of the first triumphal arch, received

the ladies, while the gentlemen ranged themselves in convenient order

on each side. On the front seat of each pavilion were placed seven of

the principal young ladies of the country, dressed in Turkish habits,

and wearing on their turbans the favors with which they meant to

reward the several knights who were to contend in their honor. These

arrangements were scarcely made, when the sound of trumpets was heard

at a distance; and a band of knights, dressed in ancient habits of

white and red silk, and mounted on gray horses, richly caparisoned in

trappings of the same colors, entered the lists, attended by their

esquires on foot, in suitable apparel, in the following order:

"Four trumpeters, properly habited, their trumpets decorated with small

pendent banners. A herald in his robes of ceremony; on his tunic was

the device of his band, two roses intertwined, with the motto--'_We

droop when separated_.'

"Lord Cathcart, superbly mounted on a managed horse, appeared as chief

of these knights; two young black slaves, with sashes and drawers of

blue and white silk, wearing large silver clasps round their necks and

arms, their breasts and shoulders bare, held his stirrups. On his right

hand walked Captain Harard, and on his left Captain Brownlow, and his

two esquires, the one bearing his lance, the other his shield. His

device was Cupid riding on a lion; the motto--'_Surmounted by Love_.'

His lordship appeared in honor of Miss Auchmuty.[18]

"Then came in order the knights of his band, each attended by his

'squire, bearing his lance and shield.

"First knight, Hon. Captain Cathcart,[19] in honor of Miss N.

White.--'Squire, Captain Peters.--Device, a heart and sword;

motto--'_Love and Honor_.'

"Second knight, Lieutenant Bygrove, in honor of Miss Craig.--'Squire,

Lieutenant Nichols.--Device, Cupid tracing a circle; motto--'_Without

End_.'

"Third knight, Captain André, in honor of Miss P. Chew.[20]--'Squire,

Lieutenant André.[21]--Device, two game-cocks fighting; motto--'_No

rival_.'

"Fourth knight, Captain Horneck, in honor of Miss N. Redmond.--'Squire,

Lieutenant Talbot.--Device, a burning heart; motto--'_Absence can not

extinguish_.'

"Fifth knight, Captain Mathews, in honor of Miss Bond.--'Squire,

Lieutenant Hamilton.--Device, a winged heart; motto--'_Each fair by

turns_.'

"Sixth knight, Lieutenant Sloper, in honor of Miss M.

Shippen.[22]--'Squire, Lieutenant Brown.--Device, a heart and sword;

motto--'_Honor and the fair_.'"

[Illustration: The Joust at the Tournament.]

After they had made the circuit of the square, and saluted the ladies

as they passed before the pavilion, they ranged themselves in a line

with that in which were the ladies of their device; and their herald

(Mr. Beaumont) advancing into the center of the square, after a

flourish of trumpets, proclaimed the following challenge:

"The Knights of the Blended Rose, by me, their herald, proclaim and

assert that the Ladies of the Blended Rose excel in wit, beauty, and

every accomplishment, those of the whole world; and should any knight

or knights be so hardy as to dispute or deny it, they are ready to

enter the lists with them, and maintain their assertions by deeds of

arms, according to the laws of ancient chivalry."

At the third repetition of this challenge, the sound of trumpets was

heard from the opposite side of the square; and another herald, with

four trumpeters, dressed in black-and-orange, galloped into the lists.

He was met by the Herald of the Blended Rose, and, after a short

parley, they both advanced in front of the pavilions, when the black

herald (Lieutenant Moore) ordered his trumpets to sound, and thus

proclaimed defiance to the challenge in the following words:

"The Knights of the Burning Mountain present themselves here, not to

contest by words, but to disprove by deeds, the vainglorious assertions

of the Knights of the Blended Rose, and enter these lists to maintain

that the Ladies of the Burning Mountain are not excelled in beauty,

virtue, or accomplishments, by any in the universe."

He then returned to the part of the barrier through which he had

entered, and shortly afterward the Black Knights, attended by their

'squires, rode into the lists in the following order:

"Four trumpeters preceding the herald, on whose tunic was represented a

mountain sending forth flames; motto--'_I burn forever_.'

"Captain Watson, of the Guards, as chief, dressed in a magnificent suit

of black-and-orange silk, and mounted on a black managed horse, with

trappings of the same color with his own dress, appeared in honor of

Miss Franks. He was attended in the same manner with Lord Cathcart.

Captain Scott bore his lance and Lieutenant Lytton his shield. The

device, a heart, with a wreath of flowers; motto--'_Love and glory_.'

"First knight, Lieutenant Underwood, in honor of Miss S.

Shippen.--'Squire, Ensign Haserkam.--Device, a pelican feeding her

young; motto--'_For those I love_.'

"Second knight, Lieutenant Wingard, in honor of Miss R.P.

Shippen.--'Squire, Captain Boscawen.--Device, a bay-leaf;

motto--'_Unchangeable_.'

"Third knight, Lieutenant Deleval, in honor of Miss B. Bond.--'Squire,

Captain Thorne.--Device, a heart, aimed at by several arrows, and

struck by one; motto--'_Only one pierces me_.'

"Fourth knight, Monsieur Montluissent (Lieutenant of the Hessian

Chasseurs), in honor of Miss B. Redman.--'Squire, Captain

Campbell.--Device, a sunflower turning toward the sun; motto--'_Je vise

à vous_.'

"Fifth knight, Lieutenant Hobart, in honor of Miss S. Chew.--'Squire,

Lieutenant Briscoe.--Device, Cupid piercing a coat-of-mail with his

arrow; motto--'_Proof to all but love_.'

"Sixth knight, Brigade-Major Tarleton, in honor of Miss W.

Smith.--'Squire, Captain Heart.--Device, a light dragoon;

motto--'_Swift, vigilant, and bold_.'

"After they had rode round the lists, and made their obeisance to

the ladies, they drew up, fronting the White Knights; and the chief

of them having thrown down his gauntlet, the Chief of the Black

Knights directed his esquire to take it up. The knights then received

their lances from their esquires, fixed their shields on their left

arms, and, making a general salute to each other by a very graceful

movement of their lances, turned round to take their career, and,

encountering in full gallop, shivered their spears. In the second and

third encounter they discharged their pistols. In the fourth they

fought with swords. At length the two chiefs, spurring forward into

the center, engaged furiously in single combat, till the marshal of

the field (Major Gwyne) rushed in between the chiefs and declared

that the Fair Damsels of the Blended Rose and Burning Mountain were

perfectly satisfied with the proofs of love and the signal feats of

valor given by their respective knights; and commanded them, as they

prized the future favors of their mistresses, that they would instantly

desist from further combat. Obedience being paid by the chiefs to the

order, they joined their respective bands. The White Knights and their

attendants filed off to the left, the Black Knights to the right, and,

after passing each other at the lower side of the quadrangle, moved up

alternately till they approached the pavilion of the ladies, where they

gave a general salute.

"A passage being now opened between the pavilions, the knights,

preceded by their 'squires and the bands of music, rode through the

first triumphal arch and arranged themselves to the right and left.

This arch was erected in honor of Lord Howe. It presented two fronts,

in the Tuscan order; the pediment was adorned with various naval

trophies, and at the top was a figure of Neptune, with a trident

in his right hand. In a niche on each side stood a sailor with a

drawn cutlass. Three plumes of feathers were placed on the summit

of each wing, and on the entablature was this inscription: '_Laus

illi debetur, et a me gratia major_.' The interval between the two

arches was an avenue three hundred feet long and thirty-four broad.

It was lined on each side with a file of troops; and the colors of

all the army, planted at proper distances, had a beautiful effect in

diversifying the scene.

"Between these colors the knights and 'squires took their stations. The

bands continued to play several pieces of martial music. The company

moved forward in procession, with the ladies in the Turkish habits in

front: as these passed they were saluted by their knights, who then

dismounted and joined them; and in this order we were all conducted

into a garden that fronted the house, through the second triumphal arch

dedicated to the general. This arch was also built in the Tuscan order.

On the interior part of the pediment were painted a Plume of Feathers

and various military trophies. At the top stood the figure of Fame, and

on the entablature these words--'_I, bone, quo virtuo tua le vocet; I

pede fausto_.' On the right-hand pillar was placed a bomb-shell, and

on the left a flaming heart. The front next the house was adorned with

preparations for a fire-work.

"From the garden we ascended a flight of steps covered with carpets,

which led into a spacious hall; the panels, painted in imitation of

Sienna marble,[23] inclosing portions of white marble; the surbase and

all below were black. In this hall, and in the adjoining apartments,

were prepared tea, lemonade, and other cooling liquors, to which the

company seated themselves; during which time the knights came in, and

on the knee received their favors from their respective ladies. One of

these rooms was afterward appropriated to the use of the Pharaoh table.

As you entered it you saw, in a panel over the chimney, a cornucopia,

exuberantly filled with flowers of the richest colors. Over the door,

as you went out, another presented itself, shrunk, reversed, and

emptied.

"From these apartments we were conducted up to a ballroom, decorated

in a light, elegant style of painting. The ground was a pale blue,

paneled with a small gold bead, and in the interior filled with

dropping festoons of flowers in their natural colors. Below the

surface the ground was of rose-pink, with drapery festooned in blue.

These decorations were heightened by eighty-five mirrors, decked with

rose-pink silk ribbons and artificial flowers; and in the intermediate

spaces were thirty-four branches with wax-lights, ornamented in a

similar manner. On the same floor were four drawing-rooms, with

sideboards of refreshments, decorated and lighted in the same style and

taste as the ballroom.

"The ball was opened by the knights and their ladies, and the dances

continued till ten o'clock, when the windows were thrown open, and

a magnificent bouquet of rockets began the fire-works. These were

planned by Captain Montressor, the chief-engineer, and consisted of

twenty different exhibitions, displayed under his directions with

the happiest success and in the highest style of beauty. Toward the

conclusion the interior part of the triumphal arch was illuminated amid

an uninterrupted flight of rockets and bursting balloons. The military

trophies on each side assumed a variety of transparent colors. The

shell and flaming heart on the wings sent forth Chinese fountains,

succeeded by fire-works. Fame appeared at the top, spangled with stars,

and from her trumpet blowing the following device in letters of light:

'_Les lauriers sont immortels_.' A _sauteur_ of rockets bursting from

the pediment concluded the _feu d' artifice_.

"At twelve supper was announced, and large folding-doors, hitherto

artfully concealed, being suddenly thrown open, discovered a

magnificent saloon of two hundred and ten feet by forty, and twenty-two

in height, with three alcoves on each side, which served for

sideboards. The ceiling was the segment of a circle, and the sides were

painted of a light straw-color, with vine-leaves and festoon-flowers,

some in a bright and some in a darkish green. Fifty-six large

pier-glasses, ornamented with green silk, artificial flowers, and

ribbons; a hundred branches with three lights in each, trimmed in the

same manner as the mirrors; eighteen lusters, each with twenty-four

lights, suspended from the ceiling, and ornamented as the branches;

three hundred wax-tapers disposed along the supper-tables; four hundred

and thirty covers; twelve hundred dishes; twenty-four black slaves,

in Oriental dresses, with silver collars and bracelets, ranged in two

lines and bending to the ground as the general and admiral approached

the saloon--all these, forming together the most brilliant assemblage

of gay objects, and appearing at once as we entered by an easy ascent,

exhibited a _coup d'oeil_ beyond description magnificent.

"Toward the end of the supper the Herald of the Blended Rose, in his

habit of ceremony, attended by his trumpeters, entered the saloon, and

proclaimed the king's health, the queen and royal family, the army

and navy, with their respective commanders, the knights and their

ladies, and the ladies in general. Each of these toasts was followed

by a flourish of music. After supper we returned to the ballroom and

continued to dance until four o'clock."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 13: This account was printed in the "Lady's Magazine," with

which Miss Seward had a literary connection, in August, 1778.]

[Footnote 14: This is one half the size of the original.]

[Footnote 15: I copied this ticket from one of the originals in the

Franklin Library, at Philadelphia, in 1848. It is attached, with

drawings of a head-dress for the _Mischianza_, and a portrait of

Captain Cathcart, a son of Lord Cathcart, to his manuscript "Annals

of Philadelphia," deposited with this institution by the late John F.

Watson, Esq. The designs for the ticket and the other sketches were

made by André; and a _silhouette_ of Sir John Wrottesley, one of the

managers, was cut by André. They were presented to Mr. Watson by Miss

Craig, a participant in the _fête_. She was the chosen lady of the

Second Knight of the Blended Rose. André's drawings for the costumes of

the Ladies of the Blended Rose and Burning Mountain are preserved. The

form was a polonaise, or a flowing robe of white silk, with a spangled

pink sash and spangled shoes and stockings; a veil spangled and trimmed

with silver lace, and a towering head-dress of pearls and jewels. The

Ladies of the Burning Mountain had their polonaises and white sashes

bound with black. The engraving shows the style of the head-dress,

copied from André's drawing.]

[Footnote 16: A little above Vine Street.]

[Footnote 17: A little below the present navy-yard.]

[Footnote 18: Miss Auchmuty was the only English maiden present.

She was about to become the bride of Captain Montressor, the chief

engineer. Watson says there were not more than fifty unmarried American

ladies present; the rest were all married.]

[Footnote 19: Captain Cathcart, the son of Lord Cathcart, married a

daughter of Andrew Eliot, once a collector of customs at Philadelphia.

The young officer had been making love most vehemently to Miss Eliot

all winter. She was pretty, lively, and well educated. The captain

wrote her many letters, avowing his love for her, but much of his

conduct seems to have been mere coquetry. Miss Eliot was in earnest,

and received his attentions and his letters as genuine tokens of his

love. When it became evident that he meant to deceive her, her father

laid his letters before Sir Henry Clinton, of whose military family

young Cathcart was a member. Clinton advised the young man to marry

Miss Eliot. Cathcart wished to postpone it until the end of the war.

Clinton told him he had gone so far that he must marry her speedily or

leave his family. They were married in April, 1779. She was afterward

"Lady Cathcart," and appeared at court when her husband became an earl.]

[Footnote 20: A daughter of Chief-Justice Chew.]

[Footnote 21: A brother of Captain André, then nineteen years of age.

After André's death, he was knighted by the king.]

[Footnote 22: Afterward the wife of Benedict Arnold.]

[Footnote 23: The painting was done in distemper upon canvas, in the

manner of theatrical scene-painting. André was assisted in his art-work

by Captain Oliver De Lancey, of New York, an energetic leader of

loyalists. He married a daughter of David Franks. She was active in the

_Mischianza_ affair. Her sister married Colonel Johnson, of the British

army, who was in command at Stony Point, on the Hudson, when it was

captured by General Wayne in the summer of 1779.]

CHAPTER III.

The _Mischianza_ was severely criticised in Great Britain and America,

as an undeserved compliment to an incompetent officer. Howe was an

indolent procrastinator, and fond of sensual indulgence; and he had not

only effected nothing of importance for his country in America, but had

hindered more competent men. He was charged by Galloway, a Philadelphia

Tory then in London, with "a vanity and presumption unparalleled in

history, after his indolence and wretched blunders," in accepting from

a few officers "a triumph more magnificent than would have become

the conqueror of America, without the consent of his sovereign or

approbation of his country."

It is asserted that at Philadelphia Howe was openly licentious, kept

a mistress, loved his bottle inordinately, and engaged secretly in

business transactions for his own gain, similar to those with which

Benedict Arnold was charged, and caused him to be reprimanded by order

of Congress. Horace Walpole said, "He returned to England richer in

money than in laurels." Another said, "The only bays he possessed were

those that drew his carriage"; and still another, that "he has given

America to the Americans." And yet staid men, as well as romantic

enthusiasts like André, did not hesitate to award him honors which only

great heroes and most virtuous men deserve. André even wrote a fulsome

poetic address to be read to Howe during the _fête_. The general

exercised good sense by forbidding its utterance.

The extreme folly of the _Mischianza_, under the peculiar

circumstances, was deplored by sensible men in and out of the army.

When an old British major of artillery, in Philadelphia, was asked by

a young person what was the distinction between the "Knights of the

Burning Mountain" and the "Knights of the Blended Rose," the veteran

replied: "The 'Knights of the Burning Mountain' are tom-fools, and the

'Knights of the Blended Rose' are damned fools! I know of no other

distinction between them." The old soldier, though a Briton, greatly

admired Washington. Placing a hand upon each knee, he added, in a tone

of deep mortification, "What will Washington think of this?"

Just one month after this grand show at Philadelphia, a far grander and

more important spectacle was exhibited at that city. It was the sudden

flight of the whole British army from the town, across the Delaware

and over New Jersey, eagerly pressing toward New York; also the speedy

entrance of Continental troops into Philadelphia, and the return of

Congress.

Sir Henry Clinton, now in chief command of the British army, was

making preparations for a vigorous campaign, when orders came from the

ministers to evacuate Philadelphia at once, to prevent a blockade of

the army and navy on the Delaware by a French fleet under D'Estaing,

then on its way to America. Clinton obeyed. Washington, with his

recuperated army at Valley Forge, pursued and overtook the fugitives

near Monmouth Court-House. There, on a very hot Sunday in June (28th),

a sanguinary but indecisive battle was fought. That night Clinton

secretly stole away with his whole force (while the wearied Americans

slept on their arms), and escaped to New York.

Lord Howe had scarcely left the Capes of the Delaware, when D'Estaing

appeared. Howe sailed for New York, and anchored his fleet in Raritan

Bay. D'Estaing's larger vessels could not enter the shallow waters of

the bay, and sailed away for Rhode Island, to assist American troops

in expelling the British from that domain. A storm dispersed the two

fleets. The attempt at expulsion was a failure. Clinton sailed with

four thousand troops to strengthen British power on Rhode Island.

Thence he sent General Grey on a marauding expedition to New Bedford

and its vicinity. André accompanied him, and afterward wrote an amusing

poem, to the tune of "Yankee Doodle," entitled "Yankee Doodle's

Expedition to Rhode Island."[24] He also wrote a poem, in eighteen

stanzas, giving an amusing account of a duel between Christopher

Gadsden, of South Carolina, and General Robert Howe, of the Continental

army. This poem may be found in Sargent's "Life and Career of Major

André." Other poems, evidently from André's pen, ridiculing the

"rebels," frequently appeared in Rivington's "Royal Gazette," until the

tragedy that ended his life in the fall of 1780.