(_Letter in "A Tour in North America," dated Hudson River._)
My dear B.--On my return to the Neptune all was in readiness to set
sail. The wind sprang up, and we were presently wafted into a broad
sheet of water, "the Sea of Tappan." The river here suddenly expands,
and for the distance of ten miles will average about four miles in
breadth; in many places the water is so shallow, that the helmsman,
his track being already marked out, steers by the direction of posts,
stationed here and there in the river, that he may keep his vessel
free from sand-banks. The shore on each side of us presented a level,
agreeably interrupted in places by the intervention of minor hills,
apparently fertile, and in fine cultivation. The villages of Tappan and
Nyack, a few framed houses and huts scattered irregularly on the western
side, and about one mile from the river, claim the attention of the
traveller. They are situated near the foot of a valley, and overlooked
by some stupendous and abrupt ridges, whose frowning and murky heads
throw a grand and solemn, but somewhat suitable, aspect upon the
landscape of this memorable place. Old Tappan, which consists of only
two or three small houses, and lies a short distance up this valley, was
the place selected for the execution of the once brave, noble-hearted,
patriotic, and accomplished Major André. I was anxious to make a
pilgrimage to the grave of my unfortunate countryman; and, as the
wind was scarcely sufficient to bear us up against a strong ebb-tide,
I easily prevailed on the captain to anchor his charge, and allow the
small boat to go on shore.
Major André, you may recollect, was taken prisoner by the Americans
during the revolution as a British spy. The house or hut in which he was
kept in confinement had only very lately gone into ruins. It was then
a tavern, and its landlord, now extremely old, still resides close by,
and recites the melancholy tale with much affection and feeling. He
witnessed the gentlemanly manners and equanimity of this heroic soldier,
while in his house, under the most trying circumstances, and from its
threshold to the fatal spot. In his room the prisoner could hear the
sound of the axe employed in erecting the scaffold; and on one occasion,
in the presence of a friend, when these sounds, terrible to all but
himself, were more than usually distinct, he is said to have observed,
with great composure, "that every sound he heard from that axe was
indeed an important lesson, it taught him how to live and how to die."
When conducted to the place of execution, and on coming near to the
scaffold, he made a sudden halt, and momentarily shrunk at the sight;
because he had, to the last, entertained hopes that his life would have
been taken by the musket, and not by the halter. This apparent want of
resolution quickly passed away, and the disappointment he felt told more
against the uncompromising spirit of the times than against himself.
Rejecting assistance, he approached and ascended the platform with a
steady pace and lofty demeanour, and submitted to his fate with the
pious resignation of a great and good man. A large concourse of
spectators, among whom were several well dressed females, had assembled
on this sorrowful occasion; and it is reported that scarcely a dry cheek
could be found throughout the whole multitude. André was then seen as
he always had been, and moved by that which had through life presided
over all his actions, resolved beyond presumption, and firm without
ostentation.
The person and appearance of Major André were prepossessing; he was
well proportioned, and above the common size of men; the lines of his
face were regular, well marked, and beautifully symmetrical, which gave
him an expression of countenance at once dignified and commanding. His
address was graceful and easy; in manners he was truly exemplary, and in
conversation affable and instructive. Polite to all ranks and classes of
people, he was universally respected; fond of discipline, and always
alive to the just claims and feelings of others, he was beloved in the
army, and generally appealed to as the common arbitrator and conciliator
of the contentions of those around him. In a word, he was a sincere
friend, a scholar, and accomplished gentleman, a patriot, a gallant
soldier, an able commander, and a Christian.
General Washington, when called upon to sign his death-warrant, which
he did not do without hesitation, it is said, dropped a tear upon the
paper, and spoke at the same time to the following effect:--"That were
it not infringing upon the duty and responsibility of his office, and
disregarding the high prerogative of those who would fill that office
after him, the tear, which now lay upon that paper, should annihilate
the confirmation of an act to which his name would for ever stand as
a sanction. He was summoned that day to do a deed at which his heart
revolted; but it was required of him by the justice of his country, the
desires and expectations of the people: he owed it to the cause in which
he was solemnly engaged, to the welfare of an infant confederacy, the
safety of a newly organized constitution which he had pledged his honour
to protect and defend, and a right given to him that was acknowledged
to be just by the ruling voice of all nations."
André, after he had heard his condemnation, addressed a letter to
Washington; it contained a feeling appeal to him as a man, a soldier,
and a general, on the mode of death he was to die. It was his wish to
be shot. This, however, could not be granted: he had been taken and
condemned as a spy, and the laws of nations had established the manner
of his death. But where were the humanity and feeling of the British on
this occasion? Why did they not give up the dastardly Arnold in exchange
for the brave André; as it was generously proposed by the United
States?[3] This they refused on a paltry plea, and suffered, in
consequence, the life of one of their finest officers to be
ignominiously lost.
On a green eminence, over which hangs the dark and funereal shade of the
willow, is the grave of this unfortunate soldier; it is a short distance
south and west of the village. "No urn nor animated bust," only a few
rough and unshapely stones, without a word of inscription, and
carelessly laid upon a mound of rudely piled earth, are shown to the
traveller as the spot where rest the remains of poor André.[4]
_Mag. Nat. Hist._
[3] Arnold was a General in the American service, and had
distinguished himself on former occasions like a brave soldier,
an experienced commander, and a sincere citizen; but, like
another Judas Iscariot, he afterwards thought fit to turn
traitor. He deserted to the English as soon as the news reached
him of the apprehension of André (because he knew then that his
name and the plans arranged previously between him and the
British General would be exposed and frustrated,) with the
expectation of receiving _a few pieces of silver_ for
betraying his country. Whatever was his recompense in this way
I know not, but I am certain he was despised as long as he lived,
and his memory will for ever be pointed at as contemptible and
degrading by the people of both nations.
[4] The remains of Major André were lately, by a special request
from the British government to the United States, brought to
England, and placed among the worthies of Westminster Abbey.
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