THE TREASON OF ARNOLD.--TRIAL AND EXECUTION OF ANDRÉ.
We have now to enter upon a sad episode of our revolutionary
history--the treason of Arnold. Of the military skill, daring
enterprise, and indomitable courage of this man, ample evidence has
been given in the foregoing pages. Of the implicit confidence reposed
in his patriotism by Washington, sufficient proof is manifested in the
command with which he was actually entrusted. But Arnold was false at
heart, and at the very time of seeking that command had been for many
months in traitorous correspondence with the enemy.
The first idea of proving recreant to the cause he had vindicated so
bravely, appears to have entered his mind when the charges preferred
against him by the council of Pennsylvania were referred by Congress
to a court-martial. Before that time he had been incensed against
Pennsylvania; but now his wrath was excited against his country, which
appeared so insensible to his services. Disappointment in regard to
the settlement of his accounts added to his irritation, and mingled
sordid motives with his resentment; and he began to think how, while
he wreaked his vengeance on his country, he might do it with advantage
to his fortunes. With this view he commenced a correspondence with Sir
Henry Clinton in a disguised handwriting, and under the signature of
_Gustavus_, representing himself as a person of importance in the
American service, who, being dissatisfied with the late proceedings of
Congress, particularly the alliance with France, was desirous of
joining the cause of Great Britain, could he be certain of personal
security and indemnification for whatever loss of property he might
sustain. His letters occasionally communicated articles of
intelligence of some moment which proved to be true, and induced Sir
Henry to keep up the correspondence; which was conducted on his part
by his aide-de-camp, Major John André,{1} likewise in a disguised
hand, and under the signature of John Anderson. Months elapsed before
Sir Henry discovered who was his secret correspondent. Even after
discovering it he did not see fit to hold out very strong inducements
to Arnold for desertion. The latter was out of command and had nothing
to offer but his services; which in his actual situation were scarcely
worth buying.
{Footnote 1: [Major André was born in London in 1751, but his parents
were of Geneva, Switzerland, where he was educated. He was designed
for mercantile life, and entered a London counting-house, the sober
routine of which, however, was so distasteful to him that he soon
abandoned it for the army. An engagement in his eighteenth year to a
beautiful girl, Miss Honora Sneyd, which the father of the young lady
broke off, is said to have been one cause of this step. He came to
America in 1774 as lieutenant of the Royal Fusiliers. His temper was
light and festive, and his varied, graceful talents, and his engaging
manners rendered him generally popular.]}
In the meantime the circumstances of Arnold were daily becoming more
desperate. Debts were accumulating, and creditors becoming more and
more importunate as his means to satisfy them decreased. The public
reprimand he had received was rankling in his mind, and filling his
heart with bitterness. Still he hesitated on the brink of absolute
infamy, and attempted a half-way leap. Such was his proposition to M.
de Luzerne to make himself subservient to the policy of the French
government, on condition of receiving a loan equal to the amount of
his debts. It was his last card before resorting to utter treachery.
Failing in it, his desperate alternative was to get some important
command, the betrayal of which to the enemy might obtain for him a
munificent reward. Such was the secret of his eagerness to obtain the
command of West Point, the great object of British and American
solicitude, on the possession of which were supposed by many to hinge
the fortunes of the war.
He took command of the post and its dependencies about the beginning
of August, fixing his head-quarters at Beverley, a country-seat a
little below West Point, on the opposite or eastern side of the river.
It was commonly called the Robinson House, having formerly belonged to
Colonel Beverley Robinson. Colonel Robinson was a royalist; had
entered into the British service, and was now residing in New York,
and Beverley with its surrounding lands had been confiscated.
From this place Arnold carried on a secret correspondence with Major
André. Their letters still in disguised hands, and under the names of
Gustavus and John Anderson, purported to treat merely of commercial
operations, but the real matter in negotiation was the betrayal of
West Point and the Highlands to Sir Henry Clinton. This stupendous
piece of treachery was to be consummated at the time when Washington,
with the main body of his army, would be drawn down towards King's
Bridge, and the French troops landed on Long Island, in the projected
co-operation against New York. At such time, a flotilla under Rodney,
having on board a large land force, was to ascend the Hudson to the
Highlands, which would be surrendered by Arnold almost without
opposition, under pretext of insufficient force to make resistance.
The immediate result of this surrender, it was anticipated, would be
the defeat of the combined attempt upon New York; and its ultimate
effect might be the dismemberment of the Union and the dislocation of
the whole American scheme of warfare.
Correspondence had now done its part in the business; for the
completion of the plan and the adjustment of the traitor's recompense,
a personal meeting was necessary between Arnold and André. The former
proposed that it should take place at his own quarters, where André
should come in disguise as a bearer of intelligence, and under the
feigned name of John Anderson. André positively objected to entering
the American lines; it was arranged, therefore, that the meeting
should take place on neutral ground, near the American out-posts at
Dobbs' Ferry, on the 11th of September, at twelve o'clock. André
attended at the appointed place and time, accompanied by Colonel
Beverley Robinson, who was acquainted with the plot. An application of
the latter for the restoration of his confiscated property in the
Highlands seemed to have been used occasionally as a blind in these
proceedings.
Arnold had passed the preceding night at what was called the White
House, the residence of Mr. Joshua Hett Smith, situated on the west
side of the Hudson, in Haverstraw Bay, about two miles below Stony
Point. He set off thence in his barge for the place of rendezvous; but
not being protected by a flag, was fired upon and pursued by the
British guard-boats stationed near Dobbs' Ferry. He took refuge at an
American post on the western shore, whence he returned in the night to
his quarters. New arrangements were made for an interview, but it was
postponed until after Washington should depart for Hartford to hold
the proposed conference with Count Rochambeau and the other French
officers. In the meantime the British sloop-of-war, Vulture, anchored
a few miles below Teller's Point, to be at hand in aid of the
negotiation. On board was Colonel Robinson, who, pretending to believe
that General Putnam still commanded in the Highlands, addressed a note
to him requesting an interview on the subject of his confiscated
property. This letter he sent by a flag, enclosed in one addressed to
Arnold; soliciting of him the same boon should General Putnam be
absent.
On the 18th September, Washington with his suite crossed the Hudson to
Verplanck's Point, in Arnold's barge, on his way to Hartford. Arnold
accompanied him as far as Peekskill, and on the way, laid before him,
with affected frankness, the letter of Colonel Robinson, and asked his
advice. Washington disapproved of any such interview, observing that
the civil authorities alone had cognizance of these questions of
confiscated property. Arnold now openly sent a flag on board of the
Vulture, as if bearing a reply to the letter he had communicated to
the commander-in-chief. By this occasion he informed Colonel Robinson
that a person with a boat and flag would be alongside of the Vulture
on the night of the 20th; and that any matter he might wish to
communicate, would be laid before General Washington on the following
Saturday, when he might be expected back from Newport.
On the faith of the information thus covertly conveyed, André
proceeded up the Hudson on the 20th, and went on board of the Vulture,
where he found Colonel Robinson, and expected to meet Arnold. The
latter, however, had made other arrangements, probably with a view to
his personal security. About half-past eleven of a still and starlight
night (the 21st), a boat was descried from on board, gliding silently
along, rowed by two men with muffled oars. She was hailed by an
officer on watch, and called to account. A man seated in the stern
gave out that they were from King's Ferry, bound to Dobbs' Ferry. He
was ordered alongside and soon made his way on board. He proved to be
Mr. Joshua Hett Smith, already mentioned, whom Arnold had prevailed
upon to go on board of the Vulture, and bring a person on shore who
was coming from New York with important intelligence. He had given him
passes to protect him and those with him, in case he should be
stopped, either in going or returning, by the American water guard,
which patrolled the river in whale-boats. He had made him the bearer
of a letter addressed to Colonel Beverley Robinson, which was to the
following purport: "This will be delivered to you by Mr. Smith, who
will conduct you to a place of safety. Neither Mr. Smith nor any other
person shall be made acquainted with your proposals: if they (which I
doubt not) are of such a nature that I can officially take notice of
them, I shall do it with pleasure. I take it for granted Colonel
Robinson will not propose anything that is not for the interest of the
United States as well as of himself." All this use of Colonel
Robinson's name was intended as a blind, should the letter be
intercepted.
Robinson introduced André to Smith by the name of John Anderson, who
was to go on shore in his place (he being unwell), to have an
interview with General Arnold. André wore a blue great coat which
covered his uniform, and Smith always declared that at the time he was
totally ignorant of his name and military character. André, embarking
in the boat with Smith, was silently rowed to the western side of the
river, about six miles below Stony Point. Here they landed a little
after midnight, at the foot of a shadowy mountain called the Long
Clove. Arnold was in waiting, but standing aloof among thickets. The
midnight negotiation between André and Arnold was carried on in
darkness among the trees. One hour after another passed away when
Smith approached the place of conference, and gave warning that it was
near daybreak, and if they lingered much longer the boat would be
discovered.
The nefarious bargain was not yet completed, and Arnold feared the
sight of a boat going to the Vulture might cause suspicion. He
prevailed therefore upon André to remain on shore until the following
night. The boat was accordingly sent to a creek higher up the river,
and André set off with Arnold for Smith's house. The road passed
through the village of Haverstraw. As they rode along in the dark, the
voice of a sentinel demanding the countersign startled André with the
fearful conviction that he was within the American lines, but it was
too late to recede. It was daybreak when they arrived at Smith's
house. They had scarcely entered when the booming of cannon was heard
from down the river. It gave André uneasiness, and with reason.
Colonel Livingston, who commanded above at Verplanck's Point, learning
that the Vulture lay within shot of Teller's Point, which divides
Haverstraw Bay from the Tappan Sea, had sent a party with cannon to
that point in the night, and they were now firing upon the
sloop-of-war. André watched the cannonade with an anxious eye from an
upper window of Smith's house. He was relieved from painful solicitude
when he saw the vessel weigh anchor, and drop down the river out of
reach of cannon shot.
After breakfast, the plot for the betrayal of West Point and its
dependent posts was adjusted, and the sum agreed upon that Arnold was
to receive, should it be successful. André was furnished with plans of
the works, and explanatory papers, which, at Arnold's request, he
placed between his stockings and his feet; promising in case of
accident, to destroy them.
All matters being thus arranged, Arnold prepared to return in his own
barge to his head-quarters at the Robinson House. As the Vulture had
shifted her ground, he suggested to André a return to New York by
land, as most safe and expeditious; the latter, however, insisted upon
being put on board of the sloop-of-war on the ensuing night. Arnold
consented; but, before his departure, to provide against the possible
necessity of a return by land, he gave André the following pass, dated
from the Robinson House:
"Permit Mr. John Anderson to pass the guards to the White Plains, or
below, if he chooses; he being on public business by my direction.
B. ARNOLD, M. Gen'l."
Smith also, who was to accompany him, was furnished with passports to
proceed either by water or by land. Arnold departed about ten o'clock.
André passed a lonely day, casting many a wistful look toward the
Vulture. As evening approached he grew impatient, and spoke to Smith
about departure. To his surprise he found the latter had made no
preparation for it; he had discharged his boatmen, who had gone home:
in short, he refused to take him on board the Vulture. The cannonade
of the morning had probably made him fear for his personal safety,
should he attempt to go on board, the Vulture having resumed her
exposed position. He offered, however, to cross the river with André
at King's Ferry, put him in the way of returning to New York by land,
and accompany him some distance on horseback.
André was in an agony at finding himself, notwithstanding all his
stipulations, forced within the American lines; but there seemed to be
no alternative, and he prepared for the hazardous journey. He wore, as
we have noted, a military coat under a long blue surtout; he was now
persuaded to lay it aside, and put on a citizen's coat of Smith's;
thus adding disguise to the other humiliating and hazardous
circumstances of the case.
It was about sunset when André and Smith crossed from King's Ferry to
Verplanck's Point. After proceeding about eight miles on the road
toward White Plains, they were stopped between eight and nine o'clock,
near Crompond, by a patrolling party. The captain of it was uncommonly
inquisitive and suspicious. The passports with Arnold's signature
satisfied him. He warned them, however, against the danger of
proceeding further in the night. Cow Boys from the British lines were
scouring the country, and had recently marauded the neighborhood.
Smith's fears were again excited, and André was obliged to yield to
them. A bed was furnished them in a neighboring house, where André
passed an anxious and restless night. At daybreak he awoke Smith, and
hurried their departure.
They were now approaching that noted part of the country heretofore
mentioned as the Neutral Ground, extending north and south about
thirty miles, between the British and American lines. A beautiful
region of forest-clad hills, fertile valleys, and abundant streams,
but now almost desolated by the scourings of Skinners and Cow Boys;
the former professing allegiance to the American cause, the latter to
the British, but both arrant marauders. About two and a half miles
from Pine's Bridge, on the Croton River, André and his companion
partook of a scanty meal at a farm-house. Here they parted, Smith to
return home, André to pursue his journey alone to New York.
He had not proceeded far, when coming to a place where a small stream
crossed the road and ran into a woody dell, a man stepped out from the
trees, levelled a musket and brought him to a stand, while two other
men, similarly armed, showed themselves prepared to second their
comrade. The man who had first stepped out wore a refugee uniform. At
sight of it, André's heart leapt, and he felt himself secure. Losing
all caution, he exclaimed, eagerly: "Gentlemen, I hope you belong to
our party?" "What party?" was asked. "The lower party," said André.
"We do," was the reply. All reserve was now at an end. André declared
himself to be a British officer; that he had been up the country on
particular business, and must not be detained a single moment. To his
consternation, the supposed refugee now avowed himself and his
companions to be Americans, and told André he was their prisoner!{2}
{Footnote 2: [The names of the captors were John Paulding, Isaac Van
Wart, and David Williams.]}
André was astounded at finding into what hands he had fallen; and how
he had betrayed himself by his heedless avowal. Promptly, however,
recovering his self possession he endeavored to pass off his previous
account of himself as a mere subterfuge. "A man must do anything,"
said he laughingly, "to get along." He now declared himself to be a
Continental officer, going down to Dobbs' Ferry to get information
from below; so saying, he drew forth and showed them the pass of
General Arnold.
This, in the first instance, would have been sufficient; but his
unwary tongue had ruined him. The suspicions of his captors were
completely roused. Paulding asked whether he had any letters about
him. He answered, no. They proceeded to search him. They obliged him
to take off his coat and vest, and found on him eighty dollars in
Continental money, but nothing to warrant suspicion of anything
sinister, and were disposed to let him proceed, when Paulding
exclaimed: "Boys, I am not satisfied--his boots must come off!" At
this André changed color. His boots, he said, came off with
difficulty, and he begged he might not be subjected to the
inconvenience and delay. His remonstrances were in vain. He was
obliged to sit down; his boots were drawn off, and the concealed
papers discovered. Hastily scanning them, Paulding exclaimed, "My God!
He is a spy!" He demanded of André where he had gotten these papers.
"Of a man at Pine's Bridge, a stranger to me," was the reply.
While dressing himself, André endeavored to ransom himself from his
captors; rising from one offer to another. He would give any reward
they might name either in goods or money, and would remain with two of
their party while one went to New York to get it. Here Paulding broke
in and declared with an oath that if he would give ten thousand
guineas he should not stir one step.
The unfortunate André now submitted to his fate, and the captors set
off with their prisoner for North Castle, the nearest American post,
distant ten or twelve miles. Arrived at North Castle, Lieutenant-colonel
Jameson, who was in command there, recognized the handwriting of Arnold
in the papers found upon André, and, perceiving that they were of a
dangerous nature, sent them off by express to General Washington, at
Hartford.
André, still adhering to his assumed name, begged that the commander
at West Point might be informed that John Anderson, though bearing his
passport, was detained. Jameson appears completely to have lost his
head on the occasion. He wrote to Arnold, stating the circumstances of
the arrest, and that the papers found upon the prisoner had been
despatched by express to the commander-in-chief, and at the same time
he sent the prisoner himself, under a strong guard, to accompany the
letter.
Shortly afterwards, Major Tallmadge, next in command to Jameson, but
of a much clearer head, arrived at North Castle, having been absent on
duty to White Plains. When the circumstances of the case were related
to him, he at once suspected treachery on the part of Arnold. At his
earnest entreaties, an express was sent after the officer who had
André in charge, ordering him to bring the latter back to North
Castle; but by singular perversity or obtuseness in judgment, Jameson
neglected to countermand the letter which he had written to Arnold.
When André was brought back, and was pacing up and down the room,
Tallmadge saw at once by his air and movements, and the mode of
turning on his heel, that he was a military man. By his advice, and
under his escort, the prisoner was conducted to Colonel Sheldon's post
at Lower Salem, as more secure than North Castle.
Here André, being told that the papers found upon his person had been
forwarded to Washington, addressed to him immediately the following
lines: "I beg your Excellency will be persuaded that no alteration in
the temper of my mind or apprehensions for my safety induces me to
take the step of addressing you; but that it is to secure myself from
the imputation of having assumed a mean character for treacherous
purposes or self-interest.... It is to vindicate my fame that I speak,
and not to solicit security. The person in your possession is Major
John André, adjutant-general of the British army. The influence of one
commander in the army of his adversary is an advantage taken in war. A
correspondence for this purpose I held; as confidential (in the
present instance) with his Excellency, Sir Henry Clinton. To favor it,
I agreed to meet upon ground not within the posts of either army, a
person who was to give me intelligence. I came up in the Vulture
man-of-war for this effect, and was fetched from the shore to the
beach. Being there, I was told that the approach of day would prevent
my return, and that I must be concealed until the next night. I was in
my regimentals, and had fairly risked my person. Against my
stipulation, my intention, and without my knowledge beforehand, I was
conducted within one of your posts. Thus was I betrayed into the vile
condition of an enemy within your posts...."
This letter he submitted to the perusal of Major Tallmadge, who was
surprised and agitated at finding the rank and importance of the
prisoner he had in charge. The letter being despatched, and André's
pride relieved on a sensitive point, he resumed his serenity,
apparently unconscious of the awful responsibility of his situation.
On the very day that the treasonable conference between Arnold and
André took place, on the banks of Haverstraw Bay, Washington had his
interview with the French officers at Hartford. It led to no important
result. Intelligence was received that the squadron of the Count de
Guichen, on which they had relied to give them superiority by sea, had
sailed for Europe. This disconcerted their plans, and Washington, in
consequence, set out two or three days sooner than had been
anticipated on his return to his head-quarters on the Hudson. He was
accompanied by Lafayette and General Knox with their suites; also,
part of the way, by Count Matthew Dumas, aide-de-camp to Rochambeau.
On approaching the Hudson, Washington took a more circuitous route
than the one he had originally intended, striking the river at
Fishkill, just above the Highlands, that he might visit West Point,
and show the marquis the works which had been erected there during his
absence in France. Circumstances detained them a night at Fishkill.
Their baggage was sent on to Arnold's quarters in the Robinson House,
with a message apprising the general that they would breakfast there
the next day. In the morning (Sept. 24th) they were in the saddle
before break of day, having a ride to make of eighteen miles through
the mountains. When within a mile of the Robinson House, Washington
turned down a cross road leading to the banks of the Hudson. Lafayette
apprised him that he was going out of the way, and hinted that Mrs.
Arnold must be waiting breakfast for him. "Ah, marquis!" replied he
good-humoredly, "you young men are all in love with Mrs. Arnold. Go
you and breakfast with her, and tell her not to wait for me. I must
ride down and examine the redoubts on this side of the river, but will
be with her shortly." The marquis and General Knox, however, turned
off and accompanied him down to the redoubts, while Colonel Hamilton
and Lafayette's aide-de-camp, Major James McHenry, continued along the
main road to the Robinson House, bearing Washington's apology, and
request that the breakfast might not be retarded.
The family with the two aides-de-camp sat down to breakfast. Mrs.
Arnold had arrived but four or five days previously from Philadelphia,
with her infant child, then about six months old. She was bright and
amiable as usual. Arnold was silent and gloomy. It was an anxious
moment with him. In the midst of the repast a horseman alighted at the
gate. It was the messenger bearing Jameson's letter to Arnold, stating
the capture of André, and that dangerous papers found on him had been
forwarded to Washington. The mine had exploded beneath Arnold's feet.
Controlling the dismay that must have smitten him to the heart, he
beckoned Mrs. Arnold from the breakfast table, signifying a wish to
speak with her in private. When alone with her in her room up-stairs,
he announced in hurried words that he was a ruined man, and must
instantly fly for his life! Overcome by the shock, she fell senseless
on the floor. Without pausing to aid her, he hurried down stairs,
informed his guests that he must haste to West Point to prepare for
the reception of the commander-in-chief; and mounting the horse of the
messenger, which stood saddled at the door, galloped down to the
landing-place, where his six-oared barge was moored. Throwing himself
into it, he ordered his men to pull out into the middle of the river,
and then made down with all speed for Teller's Point.
Washington arrived at the Robinson House shortly after the flight of
the traitor. Being informed that Mrs. Arnold was in her room, unwell,
and that Arnold had gone to West Point to receive him, he took a hasty
breakfast, and repaired to the fortress, leaving word that he and his
suite would return to dinner.
He remained at the Point throughout the morning inspecting the
fortifications. In the meantime, the messenger whom Jameson had
despatched to Hartford with a letter covering the papers taken on
André, arrived at the Robinson House. He had learnt, while on the way
to Hartford, that Washington had left that place, whereupon he turned
bridle to overtake him, but missed him in consequence of the general's
change of route. Coming by the lower road, the messenger had passed
through Salem, where André was confined, and brought with him the
letter written by that unfortunate officer to the commander-in-chief,
the purport of which has already been given. These letters being
represented as of the utmost moment, were opened and read by Colonel
Hamilton, as Washington's aide-de-camp and confidential officer. He
maintained silence as to their contents; met Washington, as he and his
companions were coming up from the river, on their return from West
Point, spoke to him a few words in a low voice, and they retired
together into the house. Whatever agitation Washington may have felt
when these documents of deep-laid treachery were put before him, he
wore his usual air of equanimity when he rejoined his companions.
Taking Knox and Lafayette aside, he communicated to them the
intelligence, and placed the papers in their hands.
His first idea was to arrest the traitor. Conjecturing the direction
of his flight, he despatched Colonel Hamilton on horseback to spur
with all speed to Verplanck's Point, with orders to the commander to
intercept Arnold should he not already have passed that post. In the
meantime, Arnold, panic-stricken, had sped his caitiff flight through
the Highlands; infamy howling in his rear; arrest threatening him in
the advance; a fugitive past the posts which he had recently
commanded; shrinking at the sight of that flag which hitherto it had
been his glory to defend!
He had passed through the Highlands in safety, but there were the
batteries at Verplanck's Point yet to fear. Fortunately for him,
Hamilton, with the order for his arrest had not arrived there. His
barge was known by the garrison. A white handkerchief displayed gave
it the sanction of a flag of truce: it was suffered to pass without
question, and the traitor effected his escape to the Vulture
sloop-of-war, anchored a few miles below. As if to consummate his
degradation by a despicable act of treachery and meanness, he gave up
to the commander his coxswain and six bargemen as prisoners of war. We
are happy to add that this perfidy excited the scorn of the British
officers; and, when it was found that the men had supposed they were
acting under the protection of a flag, they were released by order of
Sir Henry Clinton.
Colonel Hamilton returned to the Robinson House and reported the
escape of the traitor. He brought two letters also to Washington,
which had been sent on shore from the Vulture, under a flag of truce.
One was from Arnold, in which he wrote: "I ask no favor for myself. I
have too often experienced the ingratitude of my country to attempt
it; but, from the known humanity of your Excellency, I am induced to
ask your protection for Mrs. Arnold from every insult and injury that
a mistaken vengeance of my country may expose her to.... I beg she may
be permitted to return to her friends in Philadelphia, or to come to
me as she may choose." The other letter was from Colonel Beverley
Robinson, interceding for the release of André, on the plea that he
was on shore under the sanction of a flag of truce, at the request of
Arnold.
Notwithstanding Washington's apparent tranquillity and real
self-possession, it was a time of appalling distrust. How far the
treason had extended, who else might be implicated in it, was unknown.
Arnold had escaped, and was actually on board of the Vulture; he knew
everything about the condition of the posts: might he not persuade the
enemy in the present weak state of the garrisons to attempt a _coup de
main_? Washington instantly, therefore, despatched a letter to Colonel
Wade, who was in temporary command at West Point. "General Arnold is
gone to the enemy," writes he. "I request that you will be as vigilant
as possible, and as the enemy may have it in contemplation to attempt
some enterprise, _even to-night_, against these posts, I wish you to
make, immediately after the receipt of this, the best disposition you
can of your force, so as to have a proportion of men in each work on
the west side of the river." A regiment stationed in the Highlands was
ordered to the same duty, as well as a body of the Massachusetts
militia from Fishkill. At half-past seven in the evening, Washington
wrote to General Greene, who, in his absence, commanded the army at
Tappan; urging him to put the left division in motion as soon as
possible, with orders to proceed to King's Ferry, where, or before
they should arrive there, they would be met with further orders.
In the meantime, Mrs. Arnold remained in her room in a state bordering
on frenzy. Arnold might well confide in the humanity and delicacy of
Washington in respect to her. He regarded her with the sincerest
commiseration, acquitting her of all previous knowledge of her
husband's guilt. During the brief time she remained at the Robinson
House, she was treated with the utmost deference and delicacy, but
soon set off under a passport of Washington, for her father's house in
Philadelphia.
On the 26th of September, the day after the treason of Arnold had been
revealed to Washington, André arrived at the Robinson House, having
been brought on in the night, under escort and in charge of Major
Tallmadge. Washington made many inquiries of the major, but declined
to have the prisoner brought into his presence, apparently
entertaining a strong idea of his moral obliquity, from the nature of
the scheme in which he had been engaged, and the circumstances under
which he had been arrested. The same evening he transmitted him to
West Point, and shortly afterwards, Joshua H. Smith, who had likewise
been arrested. Still, not considering them secure even there, he
determined on the following day to send them on to the camp.
Major Tallmadge continued to have the charge of André. Not regarding
him from the same anxious point with the commander-in-chief, and
having had opportunities of acquiring a personal knowledge of him, he
had become fascinated by his engaging qualities. "The ease and
affability of his manners," writes he, "polished by the refinement of
good society and a finished education, made him a most delightful
companion. It often drew tears from my eyes to find him so agreeable
in conversation on different subjects, when I reflected on his future
fate, and that too, as I feared, so near at hand."
Early on the morning of the 28th, the prisoners were embarked in a
barge, to be conveyed from West Point to King's Ferry. After
disembarking at King's Ferry, near Stony Point, they set off for
Tappan under the escort of a body of horse. As they approached the
Clove, a deep defile in the rear of the Highlands, André, who rode
beside Tallmadge, became solicitous to know the opinion of the latter
as to what would be the result of his capture, and in what light he
would be regarded by General Washington and by a military tribunal,
should one be ordered. Tallmadge evaded the question as long as
possible, but being urged to a full and explicit reply, gave it, he
says, in the following words: "I had a much-loved classmate in Yale
College, by the name of Nathan Hale, who entered the army in 1775.
Immediately after the battle of Long Island, General Washington wanted
information respecting the strength, position, and probable movements
of the enemy. Captain Hale tendered his services, went over to
Brooklyn, and was taken, just as he was passing the outposts of the
enemy on his return; said I with emphasis--'Do you remember the sequel
of the story?' 'Yes,' said André. 'He was hanged as a spy! But you
surely do not consider his case and mine alike?' 'Yes, precisely
similar.'"{3}
{Footnote 3: The fate of the heroic youth here alluded to, deserves a
more ample notice. Born in Coventry, Connecticut, June 6th, 1755, he
entered Yale College in 1770, and graduated with some distinction in
September, 1773. On quitting college he engaged as a teacher, as is
common with young men in New England, while studying for a profession.
His half-formed purpose was to devote himself to the ministry. He was
teaching at New London, when an express arrived, bringing tidings of
the outbreak at Lexington. A town meeting was called, and Hale was
among the most ardent of the speakers, proposing an instant march to
the scene of hostilities, and offering to volunteer.
He served in the army before Boston as a lieutenant; prevailed on his
company to extend their term of service by offering them his own pay,
and for his good conduct received from Congress the commission of
captain. He commanded a company in Colonel Knowlton's regiment in the
following year. After the disastrous battle of Long Island, Washington
applied to that officer for a competent person to penetrate the
enemy's camp, and procure intelligence of their designs. Hale, in the
ardor of patriotism, volunteered for the unenviable enterprise, though
fully aware of its peril, and the consequences of capture. Assuming
his old character as schoolmaster, he crossed the Sound at night from
Norwalk to Huntington on Long Island, visited the British encampments
unsuspected, made drawings of the enemy's works, and noted down
memoranda in Latin of the information he gathered, and then retraced
his steps to Huntington, where a boat was to meet him and convey him
back to the Connecticut shore. Unfortunately a British guard ship was
at that time anchored out of view in the Sound, and had sent a boat on
shore for water. Hale mistook it for the expected boat, and did not
discover his mistake until he found himself in the hands of enemies.
He was stripped and searched, the plans and memoranda were found
concealed in the soles of his shoes, and proved him to be a spy. He
was conveyed to the guard ship, and thence to New York, where he was
landed on the 21st of September, the day of the great fire. He was
taken to General Howe's head-quarters, and after brief parley with his
judge, ordered for execution the next morning at daybreak. His patriot
spirit shone forth in his dying words--"I only regret that I have but
one life to lose for my country."}
The capture of André caused a great sensation at New York. He was
universally popular with the army, and an especial favorite of Sir
Henry Clinton. The latter addressed a letter to Washington on the
29th, claiming the release of André on similar ground to that urged by
Colonel Robinson--his having visited Arnold at the particular request
of that general officer, and under the sanction of a flag of truce;
and his having been stopped while travelling under Arnold's passports.
The same letter inclosed one addressed by Arnold to Sir Henry, and
intended as a kind of certificate of the innocence of André. "I
commanded at the time at West Point," writes the renegade, "had an
undoubted right to send my flag of truce to Major André, who came to
me under that protection, and, having held conversation with him, I
delivered him confidential papers in my own hand-writing to deliver to
your Excellency."
Neither the official demand of Sir Henry Clinton, nor the impudent
certificate of Arnold, had any effect on the steady mind of
Washington. He considered the circumstances under which André had been
taken such as would have justified the most summary proceedings, but
he determined to refer the case to the examination and decision of a
board of general officers, which he convened on the 29th of September,
the day after his arrival at Tappan. It was composed of six
major-generals--Greene, Stirling, St. Clair, Lafayette, R. Howe, and
Steuben; and eight brigadiers--Parsons, Jas. Clinton, Knox, Glover,
Paterson, Hand, Huntingdon, and Stark. General Greene, who was well
versed in military law, and was a man of sound head and kind heart,
was president, and Colonel John Lawrence, judge advocate-general.
Colonel Alexander Hamilton gives, in letters to his friends, many
interesting particulars concerning the conduct of the prisoner. "When
brought before the board of officers," writes he, "he met with every
mark of indulgence, and was required to answer no interrogatory which
would even embarrass his feelings. On his part, while he carefully
concealed everything that might implicate others, he frankly confessed
all the facts relating to himself, and upon his confession, without
the trouble of examining a witness, the board made up their report."
It briefly stated the circumstances of the case, and concluded with
the opinion of the court, that Major André, adjutant-general of the
British army, ought to be considered a spy from the enemy, and,
agreeably to the law and usage of nations, ought to suffer death.
André met the result with manly firmness. Even in this situation of
gathering horrors, he thought of others more than of himself. "There
is only one thing that disturbs my tranquillity," said he to Hamilton.
"Sir Henry Clinton has been too good to me; he has been lavish of his
kindness. I am bound to him by too many obligations, and love him too
well, to bear the thought that he should reproach himself, or others
should reproach him, on the supposition of my having conceived myself
obliged, by his instructions, to run the risk I did. I would not for
the world leave a sting in his mind that should embitter his future
days." He could scarce finish the sentence; bursting into tears, in
spite of his efforts to suppress them, and with difficulty collected
himself enough afterwards to add, "I wish to be permitted to assure
him that I did not act under this impression, but submitted to a
necessity imposed upon me, as contrary to my own inclination as to his
wishes." His request was complied with, and he wrote a letter to Sir
Henry Clinton to the above purport. He made mention also of his mother
and three sisters, to whom the value of his commission would be an
object. "It is needless," said he, "to be more explicit on this
subject; I am persuaded of your Excellency's goodness."
This letter accompanied one from Washington to Sir Henry Clinton,
stating the report of the board of inquiry, omitting the sentence.
Captain Aaron Ogden, a worthy officer of the New Jersey line, was
selected by Washington to bear these despatches to the enemy's post at
Paulus Hook, thence to be conveyed across the Hudson to New York.
Before his departure, he called by Washington's request on the Marquis
Lafayette, who gave him instructions to sound the officer commanding
at that post whether Sir Henry Clinton might not be willing to deliver
up Arnold in exchange for André. Ogden arrived at Paulus Hook in the
evening, and made the suggestion, as if incidentally, in the course of
conversation. The officer crossed the river before morning, and
communicated the matter to Sir Henry Clinton, but the latter instantly
rejected the expedient as incompatible with honor and military
principle.
The execution was to have taken place on the 1st of October, at five
o'clock in the afternoon; but in the interim Washington received a
second letter from Sir Henry Clinton, dated September 30th, expressing
an opinion that the board of inquiry had not been rightly informed of
all the circumstances on which a judgment ought to be formed, and
that, in order that he might be perfectly apprised of the state of the
matter before he proceeded to put that judgment in execution, he
should send a commission on the following day, composed of
Lieutenant-governor Elliot, William Smith, chief justice of the
province, and Lieutenant-general Robertson, to wait near Dobbs' Ferry
for permission and safe conduct to meet Washington, or such persons as
he should appoint to converse with them on the subject. This letter
caused a postponement of the execution, and General Greene was sent to
meet the commissioners at Dobbs' Ferry. They came up in the morning of
the 1st of October, in a schooner, with a flag of truce, and were
accompanied by Colonel Beverley Robinson. General Robertson, however,
was the only commissioner permitted to land, the others not being
military officers. A long conference took place between him and
General Greene, without any agreement of opinion upon the question at
issue. Greene returned to camp promising to report faithfully to
Washington the arguments urged by Robertson, and to inform the latter
of the result.
Greene, in a brief letter to General Robertson, informed him that he
had as full a report of their conference to the commander-in-chief as
his memory would serve, but that it had made no alteration in
Washington's opinion and determination. Robertson was piqued at the
brevity of the note, and professed to doubt whether Greene's memory
had served him with sufficient fulness and exactness; he addressed
therefore to Washington his own statement of his reasoning on the
subject; after despatching which, he and the other commissioners
returned in the schooner to New York.
{Illustration: MAJOR JOHN ANDRÉ. Vol. IV.}
During this day of respite André had conducted himself with his usual
tranquillity. A likeness of himself, seated at a table in his
guard-room, which he sketched with a pen and gave to the officer on
guard, is still extant. It being announced to him that one o'clock on
the following day was fixed on for his execution, he remarked, that
since it was his lot to die, there was still a choice in the mode; he
therefore addressed a note to Washington, concluding as follows: "Let
me hope, sir, that if aught in my character impresses you with esteem
towards me; if aught in my misfortunes marks me as the victim of
policy and not of resentment, I shall experience the operation of
these feelings in your breast by being informed that I am not to die
on a gibbet."
Had Washington consulted his feelings merely, this affecting appeal
might not have been in vain, for, though not impulsive, he was
eminently benevolent. He had no popular censure to apprehend should he
exercise indulgence, for the popular feeling was with the prisoner.
But he had a high and tenacious sense of the duties and
responsibilities of his position, and never more than in this trying
moment, when he had to elevate himself above the contagious sympathies
of those around him, dismiss all personal considerations, and regard
the peculiar circumstances of the case. The long course of insidious
operations which had been pursued to undermine the loyalty of one of
his most trusted officers; the greatness of the evil which the treason
would have effected, if successful; the uncertainty how far the enemy
had carried, or might still be carrying, their scheme of corruption,
for anonymous intimations spoke of treachery in other quarters; all
these considerations pointed this out as a case in which a signal
example was required. He took counsel with some of his general
officers. Their opinions coincided with his own--that under present
circumstances, it was important to give a signal warning to the enemy,
by a rigorous observance of the rules of war and the usages of nations
in like cases.
But although André's request as to the mode of his death was not to be
granted, it was thought best to let him remain in uncertainty on the
subject; no answer, therefore, was returned to his note. On the
morning of the 2d, he maintained a calm demeanor, though all around
him were gloomy and silent. He even rebuked his servant for shedding
tears. Having breakfasted, he dressed himself with care in the full
uniform of a British officer, which he had sent for to New York,
placed his hat upon the table, and accosting the officers on guard--"I
am ready," said he, "at any moment gentlemen to wait upon you."
He walked to the place of execution between two subaltern officers,
arm in arm, with a serene countenance, bowing to several gentlemen
whom he knew. Colonel Tallmadge accompanied him, and we quote his
words: "When he came within sight of the gibbet, he appeared to be
startled, and inquired with some emotion whether he was not to be
shot. Being informed that the mode first appointed for his death could
not consistently be altered, he exclaimed, 'How hard is my fate!' but
immediately added, 'it will soon be over.' I then shook hands with him
under the gallows, and retired." All things being ready, he stepped
into the wagon; appeared to shrink for an instant, but recovering
himself, exclaimed: "It will be but a momentary pang!"
Taking off his hat and stock, and opening his shirt collar, he
deliberately adjusted the noose to his neck, after which he took out a
handkerchief, and tied it over his eyes. Being told by the officer in
command that his arms must be bound, he drew out a second
handkerchief, with which they were pinioned. Colonel Scammel now told
him that he had an opportunity to speak, if he desired it. His only
reply was, "I pray you to bear witness that I meet my fate like a
brave man." The wagon moved from under him, and left him suspended. He
died almost without a struggle. His remains were interred within a few
yards of the place of his execution; whence they were transferred to
England in 1821, by the British consul, then resident in New York, and
were buried in Westminster Abbey, near a mural monument which had been
erected to his memory.
Washington, in a letter to the President of Congress, passed a high
eulogium on the captors of André, and recommended them for a handsome
gratuity. Congress accordingly expressed, in a formal vote, a high
sense of their virtuous and patriotic conduct; awarded to each of them
a farm, a pension for life of two hundred dollars, and a silver medal,
bearing on one side an escutcheon on which was engraved the word
FIDELITY, and on the other side the motto, _Vincit amor Patriæ_. These
medals were delivered to them by General Washington at head-quarters,
with impressive ceremony.
Joshua H. Smith, who aided in bringing André and Arnold together, was
tried by a court-martial, on a charge of participating in the treason,
but was acquitted, no proof appearing of his having had any knowledge
of Arnold's plot, though it was thought he must have been conscious of
something wrong in an interview so mysteriously conducted.
Arnold was now made brigadier-general in the British service, and put
on an official level with honorable men who scorned to associate with
the traitor. What golden reward he was to have received had his
treason been successful, is not known; but six thousand three hundred
and fifteen pounds sterling were paid to him, as a compensation for
losses which he pretended to have suffered in going over to the
enemies of his country.
The vilest culprit, however, shrinks from sustaining the obloquy of
his crimes. Shortly after his arrival in New York, Arnold published an
address to the Inhabitants of America, in which he endeavored to
vindicate his conduct. He alleged that he had originally taken up arms
merely to aid in obtaining a redress of grievances. He had considered
the Declaration of Independence precipitate, and the reasons for it
obviated, by the subsequent proffers of the British government; and he
inveighed against Congress for rejecting those offers, without
submitting them to the people. Finally, the treaty with France, a
proud, ancient and crafty foe, the enemy of the Protestant faith and
of real liberty, had completed, he said, the measure of his
indignation, and determined him to abandon a cause sustained by
iniquity and controlled by usurpers.
Besides this address, he issued a proclamation inviting the officers
and soldiers of the American army, who had the real interest of their
country at heart, and who were determined to be no longer the tools
and dupes of Congress, and of France, to rally under the royal
standard, and fight for true American liberty; holding out promises of
large bounties and liberal subsistence, with compensation for all the
implements and accoutrements of war they might bring with them. Both
the address and the proclamation were regarded by Americans with the
contempt they merited. None rallied to the standard of the renegade
but a few deserters and refugees, who were already within the British
lines, and prepared for any desperate or despicable service.
Mrs. Arnold, on arriving at her father's house in Philadelphia, had
decided on a separation from her husband, to whom she could not endure
the thoughts of returning after his dishonor. This course, however,
was not allowed her. The executive council, wrongfully suspecting her
of having aided in the correspondence between her husband and André,
knowing its treasonable tendency, ordered her to leave the State
within fourteen days, and not to return during the continuance of the
war. "We tried every means," writes one of her connections, "to
prevail on the council to permit her to stay among us." It was all in
vain, and, strongly against her will, she rejoined her husband in New
York. She returned home but once, about five years after her exile,
and was treated with such coldness and neglect that she declared she
never could come again. In England her charms and virtues, it is said,
procured her sympathy and friendship, and helped to sustain the social
position of her husband, who, however, was "generally slighted, and
sometimes insulted." She died in London, in the winter of 1796.