"The principal guard-officer, who was constantly in the room with the prisoner, relates, that when the hour of his execution was announced to him in the morning, he received it without emotion, and, while all present were affected with silent gloom, he retained a firm countenance, with calmness and composure of mind. Observing his servant enter the room in tears, he exclaimed, 'Leave me till you can show yourself more manly.' His breakfast being sent to him from the table of General Washington, which had been done every day of his confinement, he partook of it as usual, and having shaved and dressed himself, he placed his hat on the table, and cheerfully said to the guard-officers, 'I am ready at any moment, Gentlemen, to wait on you.' The fatal hour having arrived, a large detachment of troops was paraded, and an immense concourse of people assembled; almost all our general and field officers, excepting his Excellency and his staff, were present on horseback; melancholy and gloom pervaded all ranks; the scene was affecting and awful.
"I was so near during the solemn march to the fatal spot, as to observe every movement and participate in every emotion, which the melancholy scene was calculated to produce. Major André walked from the stone house, in which he had been confined, between two of our subaltern officers, arm in arm; the eyes of the immense multitude were fixed on him, who, rising superior to the fear of death, appeared as if conscious of the dignified deportment which he displayed. He betrayed no want of fortitude, but retained a complacent smile on his countenance, and politely bowed to several gentlemen whom he knew, which was respectfully returned. It was his earnest desire to be shot, as being the mode of death most conformable to the feelings of a military man, and he had indulged the hope that his request would be granted. At the moment, therefore, when suddenly he came in view of the gallows, he involuntarily started backward, and made a pause. 'Why this emotion, Sir?' said an officer by his side. Instantly recovering his composure, he said, 'I am reconciled to my death, but I detest the mode.'
"While waiting and standing near the gallows, I observed some degree of trepidation; placing his foot on a stone, and rolling it over, and choking in his throat, as if attempting to swallow. So soon, however, as he perceived that things were in readiness, he stepped quickly into the wagon, and at this moment he appeared to shrink, but instantly elevating his head with firmness, he said, 'It will be but a momentary pang;' and taking from his pocket two white handkerchiefs, the provost marshal with one loosely pinioned his arms, and with the other, the victim, after taking off his hat and stock, bandaged his own eyes with perfect firmness, which melted the hearts, and moistened the cheeks, not only of his servant, but of the throng of spectators. The rope being appended to the gallows, he slipped the noose over his head, and adjusted it to his neck, without the assistance of the executioner. Colonel Scammell now informed him, that he had an opportunity to speak, if he desired it. He raised the handkerchief from his eyes, and said, 'I pray you to bear me witness, that I meet my fate like a brave man.' The wagon being now removed from under him, he was suspended and instantly expired." *
* Thacher's Military Journal, p. 222.—In a more recent publication, entitled Observations relating to the Execution of Major André, first printed in the New England Magazine, Dr. Thacher has added several facts illustrative of that event. Appended to the same is an interesting letter by Major Benjamin Russell, who was one of the inner guard, that attended André to the place of execution, and walked so near him as to hear distinctly what he said. The outer guard consisted of about five hundred men; the inner guard was only a captain's command.
Throughout the whole of this scene, from the time he left the house in which he was guarded, till the last fatal moment, his demeanor was such as to excite the respect, sympathy, and sorrow of every beholder. His step was steady, his carriage easy and graceful, his countenance placid, but thoughtful and firm, indicating a solemn sense of his impending fate, and a resolution to meet it in a manner consistent with his character and the previous tenor of his conduct. He was dressed in the uniform of a British officer. When life had departed, the body was taken down and interred within a few yards of the place of execution. The coat and other regimentals were given to his servant, who faithfully attended him to the last, and saw the grave close over his mortal remains.
Such was the death of a man, whose rare accomplishments had procured for him the friendship and confidence of all to whom he was known, and opened the happiest presages of a future career of renown and glory. In ten short days his blooming hopes had been blighted, and his glowing visions dispersed. But it was his singular fortune to die, not more beloved by his friends, than lamented by his enemies, whose cause he had sought to ruin, and by whose hands his life was justly taken. Time has consecrated the feeling. There are few Americans, and few will there ever be, who can look back upon the fate of André without deep regret. His name is embalmed in every generous heart; and they, who shall condemn his great error and applaud the sentence of his judges, will cherish a melancholy remembrance of the unfortunate victim, and grieve that a life of so much promise, adorned with so many elevated and estimable qualities, was destined to an untimely and ignominious end.
Soon after this event, when the facts had not yet become fully known or duly weighed, a few British writers allowed themselves to remark with much freedom and asperity respecting the part taken by Washington. They said the sentence was harsh, if not unjustifiable; and that, admitting it was right, humanity ought to have interposed and saved André.
The foregoing details render it unnecessary to discuss these points, either for the purpose of establishing truths, or of vindicating the character of Washington. Let every reader reflect upon the prominent transactions, and judge for himself. Nothing more is requisite. Was André a spy? This character he voluntarily acknowledged, both in his first letter to General Washington, and in his examination before the board of officers; that is, he confessed himself to have acted a part, which no one could possibly act, who was not a spy. He landed secretly in the night, he was concealed within the American lines, he changed his dress and appeared in disguise, he assumed a false name, he was taken while going to the enemy with papers containing intelligence.
These facts were so well attested, that the British general, in his extreme solicitude to rescue André, did not attempt to evade or disprove them. It was the drift of his argument to show, that, notwithstanding their existence, André could not properly be considered a spy, first, because he went ashore under a flag of truce, and secondly, because while on shore he was subject to the directions of an American general.
The first point was not accurate in any sense, either literally or theoretically. It is true, Arnold had written a paper as a passport for Smith, in which he mentioned a flag; but there was no flag, and it was in the night, when flags are not sent except on extraordinary occasions. Moreover the business was not such as could ever be sanctioned by a flag, the whole design of which is to soften the rigors of war by creating a mutual confidence between hostile armies, and thereby opening a channel for reciprocal acts of humanity. The moment this signal of peace is employed to abuse the confidence of an opposing party, by seeking to inflict an injury under the mask of friendship, the act becomes infamous. Hence the prostitution of a flag is regarded by all civilized people as one of the basest crimes. It is surprising, therefore, that the idea of a flag should have been put forward in any shape as a favorable circumstance. No such hint came from André. On the contrary, when questioned upon the subject, he declared, in very positive terms, that he was not under the sanction of a flag.