On this journey of a day, Tallmadge and André, who were about equal in age, had much free conversation. The prisoner's custodian, like every one else, was fascinated by the young soldier, and was deeply impressed with sympathy for him. In reply to a question by Tallmadge, André said that, in the enterprise in which he was engaged, all he sought was military glory, the applause of his king and his country, and perhaps a brigadiership. He asked Tallmadge in what light he would be regarded by General Washington and a military tribunal. Tallmadge tried to evade an answer, but, being pressed, he said:
"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. 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; and similar will be your fate," said Tallmadge.
In general orders on the 26th Greene proclaimed, "Treason of the blackest dye was discovered yesterday." He then gave a general account of the affair to the army and the people. It created wide-spread indignation and alarm, but the latter feeling was tempered by the concluding words of the order: "Arnold has made his escape to the enemy; but Major André, the adjutant-general of the British army, who came out as a spy to negotiate the business, is our prisoner."
The news of the capture of André, and this ominous general order, produced intense excitement in both armies, and especially within the British lines. The evident sympathy of Washington and some of his officers for the prisoner when he was brought to Tappaan, created much feeling in the American army. Some of the officers declared that if they were not to be protected against such treacherous conduct, and this spy be pardoned, it was time to leave the army. In a manuscript account of the affair now before me, written by Elias Boudinot, LL. D., the eminent American commissary of prisoners, he observed:
"Though these were their sentiments, they were only murmured from tent to tent. A few days convinced them that they had a commander-in-chief who knew how to make his compassion for the unfortunate and his duty to those who depended upon him for protection to harmonize and influence his conduct. He treated Major André with the greatest tenderness, while he carried the sentence of the council into execution according to the laws of war. At New York, when the first account of André's capture and condemnation arrived, the officers and citizens laughed at the idea that the 'rebels' would dare to execute the adjutant-general of the British army; but, if it should take place, vengeance in every form should be taken sevenfold. But, when it was known that André was no more, General Clinton shut himself up for three days, and every one at the Coffee-House and other public places hung their heads, and scarcely an observation relative to it escaped their lips."
Washington's Headquarters at Tappaan.
Washington had returned to his headquarters at Tappaan,[52] and ordered a meeting of a board of officers on the 29th, to make careful inquiries and report their opinion "of the light in which he [the prisoner] ought to be considered, and what punishment ought to be inflicted." The board consisted of six major-generals and eight brigadier-generals. The court of inquiry was held in the Dutch church at Tappaan. General Greene presided. When André was brought before his judges, he gave a detailed statement of the facts, and did not deny any of the specifications presented by the judge-advocate, John Laurance. After careful deliberation the board reported that the prisoner "ought to be considered as a spy from the enemy, and that, agreeably to the law and usages of nations, it is their opinion he ought to suffer death." "André met the result," wrote Colonel Hamilton, "with manly firmness. 'I foresee my fate,' he said, 'and though I pretend not to play the hero, or be indifferent to life, yet I am reconciled to whatever may happen, conscious that misfortune, not guilt, has brought it upon me.'"