Washington also received a letter from Beverly Robinson, dated on board the Vulture, demanding, in mild terms, the release of André, claiming it as equitable, he being on shore with a flag of truce at the request of General Arnold. Robinson attempted to influence the mind of the chief by referring to their former friendship, but the letter had not the least effect upon Washington's firmness of purpose. He was ignorant of the extent of defection, and his thoughts and efforts were first directed to measures of security. He had a most delicate task to perform. He might suspect the innocent, and give his confidence to the unworthy. He resolved, as the least dangerous course, to confide unreservedly in all his officers, and this resolution, promptly acted upon, had a very salutary effect. **
Washington sent orders to General Greene, directing him to put the left wing of the army, near Tappan, in motion as soon as possible, and march toward King's Ferry. It was midnight when the express reached Greene's quarters; before dawn the whole division was upon the march. The commander-in-chief also dispatched a letter to Colonel Jameson, directing him to send Andre to Robinson's house under a strong guard. This messenger also reached his destination at Lower Salem, at midnight. Andre was aroused, and, although the rain was falling fast, and the night was exceedingly dark, a guard, under Major Tallmadge, set off with the prisoner immediately. They rode all night, and arrived at Robinson's house at dawn on the 26th. André was taken over to West Point the same September, 1780 evening, and on the morning of the 28th was conveyed, under a strong escort of cavalry, to Tappan, where he was tried and convicted as a spy. This event will be noticed in connection with the details of his capture. For the present, my tour leads me to the consideration of other important transactions within cannon-echo of the Sugar Loaf, at whose base we are standing, and up whose steep sides I was desirous of climbing, to view the prospect so glowingly depicted by the pen of Dr. Dwight; *** but recollecting that the venerable boatman was awaiting my return, I exchanged a hasty adieu with Lieutenant Arden, and hastened back to the Beverly Dock by way of Arnold's, Path. There I found the old waterman quietly
* Inclosed in the letter to Washington was one for Mrs. Arnold, who, when thus made acquainted of her husband's safety, became more quiet. She was treated with great tenderness by Washington, and was soon afterward sent to New York under an escort, and joined her husband. Her affection survived his honor, and through all his subsequent career she exemplified the character of a true woman's love, which often "Clings like ivy to a worthless thing."
** The position of Colonel Livingston at Verplanck's Point, with some circumstances that appeared suspicious, made him liable to be distrusted, for it might fairly be presumed that he was directly or indirectly concerned in Arnold's movements. By a brief letter, Washington ordered Livingston to come to head-quarters immediately. Conscious of his integrity, that officer promptly obeyed, but he expected his conduct would be subjected to a strict investigation. Washington made no inquiries. He told him that he had more explicit orders to give than he could well communicate by letter, and that was the object of calling him to the Highlands. "It is a source of gratification to me," said the commander-in-chief, "that the post was in the hands of an officer so devoted as yourself to the cause of your country." Washington's confidence, was not misplaced, for there was not a purer patriot in that war than Henry Livingston.
*** Dwight's Travels in New England.
**** This view is taken from the Hudson River rail-road, looking north. The dock, covered with cord wood, is seen near the point on the left. It is at the termination of a marsh, near the point of a bold, rocky promontory, through which is a deep rock cutting for the road. The distant hills on the extreme left are on the west side of the Hudson; and through the gorge formed for the road may be seen the military edifices of West Point.
Buttermilk Falls.—Ride to Fort Montgomery.—Mrs. Rose.—A speculating Daughter.
fishing, and apparently unconscious that two hours had elapsed since we parted. He locked his oars, and in a few minutes we were at the foot of Buttermilk Falls. I clambered up the steep, rough road under the cliff, to the village, dined at a late hour upon cold mutton and stale bread, and in a light wagon, procured with difficulty for the occasion, set off, with a boy driver, for Fort Montgomery, about four miles below. For half the distance the road (which is the old military one of the Revolution) was smooth; the residue of the way was as rough as rocks and gulleys could make it. On every side huge bowlders, many of them ten feet in diameter, lie scattered over the bare flat rocks, like fruit shaken from a tree in autumn. They become more numerous toward the base of the steep mountain range on the west, where they lie in vast masses, like mighty pebbles rolled up by the waves upon the shore. Here the geologist has a wonderful page spread out for his contemplation.
Within a short distance of Fort Montgomery, we turned up a rough mountain road to visit an old lady named Rebecca Rose, eighty years of age, who lived close by Fort Montgomery at the time it was taken by the enemy. I found her upon a bed of sickness, too feeble then to converse, but at a subsequent visit she was well and communicative. She was a child only seven or eight years old, and has no distinct recollection of events at the taking of the forts, except her care and anxiety in concealing her rag babies in a sap trough, while her parents were hiding their property in the woods. Her father was a tanner and shoemaker, in the employ of the garrison at the two forts. The British tried to frighten him into the performance of the duty of a guide for them, by twice hauling him up to an apple-tree with a halter around his neck. He resolutely defied them, and they passed on. From the cottage of Mrs. Rose, among the hills, is one of the most magnificent views of rock and forest, cliff and river, imaginable; overlooking Forts Montgomery and Clinton, the Race flanked by Anthony's Nose and the Dunderberg, and the fertile hills of West Chester in the distance.
Near Mrs. Rose lived an old soldier who was wounded at the siege of Fort Montgomery. I found him living with his daughter, a little plump widow of fifty, in a cottage beside a clear stream that comes leaping down from the hills. He was a private in Captain De Vere's company, Colonel Dubois's regiment, and was bayoneted in the thigh when the enemy made their way over the ramparts of Fort Montgomery and fought the garrison hand to hand. Although nearly ninety years old, he was vigorous and talked sensibly. I asked the privilege of sketching his portrait, which he readily granted, and I was about unlocking my port-folio for the purpose, when his daughter, resting upon a broom handle, and assuming the shrewd look of a speculator, inquired, "What'll ye give?" "For what?" I inquired. "For daddy's likeness," she answered. Unacquainted with the market value of such commodities, and being doubtful as to the present sample possessing much intrinsic worth, I made the indefinite offer of "What is right."