Two days after the latter occurrence, Washington left Fishkill and pushed on down to the Robinson House, only some ten miles distant, intending to breakfast with Arnold. On arriving opposite West Point, instead of continuing on to Arnold's quarters, he rode toward the North and South redoubts. "General," said Lafayette, "you are going in the wrong direction, and you know Mrs. Arnold is waiting breakfast for us." "Ah!" said Washington, "you young men are all in love with Mrs. Arnold, and wish to get where she is as soon as possible; go, and take your breakfast with her, and tell her not to wait for me; I must first examine the redoubts on this side of the river."
As most of the staff officers proposed to accompany him, only two went forward to tell the Arnolds not to wait, and finding breakfast ready, they sat down with the family at the table. During the repast a note was brought to Arnold, who opened it and read it; the note was from Jameson, as before mentioned, and announced the capture of Anderson, conveying, of course, to Arnold, the failure of the whole conspiracy. Betraying but slight outward emotion, although his life was in imminent peril, he merely remarked that his presence was required across the river at West Point, and with a slight apology, he left the room followed by his wife. In the privacy of their own chamber he told her they must part—possibly forever—and that his life depended on his reaching the British lines; then pressing a kiss upon his sleeping infant boy,[A] he passed down stairs, mounted a horse, and dashed down a narrow rocky path leading to the landing, where his barge was lying, just on the south side of the point through which the Hudson River Railroad now cuts its way. Pretending that he was going with a flag of truce, he excited the boatmen to powerful efforts by promised rewards, and the boat sped through the water, carrying the panting renegade to the "Vulture" below, passing Verplank's Point batteries under cover of a white handkerchief raised upon a stick.
Meanwhile, Washington having completed his inspection, arrived at the Robinson House, where he was informed that Arnold had been called across the river. After a hasty breakfast, he concluded not to await Arnold's return, but to follow him to West Point. As the barge swept over the water, amid the majestic scenery of the Hudson, Washington remarked, "Well, gentlemen, I am glad General Arnold has gone before us, for we shall now receive a salute, and the roaring of the guns will have a fine effect among these mountains." But no salute boomed upon their expectant ears, and no preparations were visible for tendering one. As the boat drew near the shore, an officer was seen coming down the hill, who proved to be Colonel Lamb, the temporary commander. Astounded at seeing the Commander-in-Chief, he commenced an apology, which was interrupted by Washington. "How is this, sir, is not General Arnold here?" "No, sir," replied the Colonel, "he has not been here these two days, nor have I heard from him in that time." "This is extraordinary," replied Washington, "he left word that he had crossed over here; however, the object of our visit must not be defeated, and since we are here we will look around and see in what state things are with you." He then ascended to Fort Putnam, examined it and the various redoubts, and returned to Arnold's house, where Hamilton gave him the dispatch, which had arrived during his absence from Jameson, containing the papers found on Andre, and the letter from the latter to himself. The treason of Arnold was now fully exposed, but as some hours had elapsed he was already beyond pursuit. Calling in Generals Knox and Lafayette, Washington explained what had occurred, showing the proofs of the treachery, and, pathetically appealing to them, he exclaimed, "Whom can we trust now?"
Standing on a mine which might explode at any instant, he was outwardly as calm as ever; he even sought Mrs. Arnold, and kindly attempted to soothe her frenzied excitement which found vent in alternate wailings and reproaches that would have pierced insensibility itself. Although Washington seemed unchanged, he was fully alive to his danger. He rapidly wrote his commands, and hastily dispatched couriers in every direction to arouse the camps, till at length, having done all in his power to avert the threatened evil, he retired to rest late at night, fully expecting to be aroused before daylight by the roar of British artillery.
We now know the happy result, and that, under the providence of God, much of it was due to the promptitude and foresight of Washington. We now see the momentous consequences which would have followed the consummation of Arnold's baseness; how, and by what a singular change of events, Washington's visit was delayed, and Arnold's escape effected, while even now, we recoil as we learn how a single expression dropped by Andre, prevented the springing of a mine which would have inevitably insured a failure to achieve our independence, and have left us colonial dependents upon the British Government. Andre was conveyed to the Robinson House, and thence to West Point, from which place he was removed to the village of Tappan, opposite Irvington, on the Hudson River Railroad, where a Board of General Officers, presided over by Major General Greene, was assembled to inquire into the facts of his case, and report their opinion. The Board found him acting in the character of a spy, and were of the opinion that, agreeably to the laws and usages of war, he ought to suffer death. In spite of every possible exertion of Sir Henry Clinton, the universal sympathy of the American officers, and the grief of Washington, whose heart was wrung with anguish when he gave the death-warrant, Andre was executed at Tappan, on the 2d of October, 1780, and died, in truth, "lamented even by his foes."
The miserable and unhappy career of Arnold need not be pursued. Rewarded by the British Government with a Brigadier-General's commission and a grant of £10,000, he died in London in 1801.[B]
CONSTITUTION ISLAND
To the visitor at West Point, the objective spot of the stirring scenes described, each wooded height and rocky bluff recalls the times when our fathers, regardless of personal hardship, suffering and death, labored to secure the priceless boon of freedom.
"There's not a verdant blade, nor mountain hoary,
But treasures up the memories of freedom's story."