In September, a plot was laid for betraying the important fortress of West Point, and other posts of the Highlands, into the hands of the enemy, the traitor being no other than Arnold, the most brilliant officer and one of the most honoured in the American army. Arnold, however, with all his fine qualities as a soldier, was a man of an overbearing and reckless spirit; he had in many cases shown great want of integrity and disregard of the rights of others; nevertheless his valour and his many brilliant achievements had cast his faults into the shade and placed him in command at Philadelphia. There, however, as we have already mentioned, his conduct had given rise to much dissatisfaction. He occupied the best mansion in the city, and lived in so expensive a style as to become involved in debt, to free himself from which he entered into mercantile and privateering speculations. This mode of living and these speculations led to the interference of congress, and the sentence of a reprimand from the commander-in-chief. His debts and moneydifficulties caused him to request, but in vain, a loan from the French minister. The same causes had already led him to open a correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton, though how this was first commenced, and through whom carried on, is not known. When, however, he was satisfied that the treacherous purpose he had in view would be satisfactorily entered into, and in order to enable him to accomplish it most effectually, he solicited from Washington the command in the Highlands, and Washington, who, spite of Arnold’s faults, had confidence in him, and who was glad to show this after the humiliation he had just laid upon him, placed that important trust in his hands.
The peculiar circumstances of these highland strongholds at this crisis must be borne in mind. The failure of the French fleet with regard to the attack on New York having overthrown all prospects of active operation on the side of the Americans for the present season, Washington stationed his army for the winter in these very posts, on each side of the North River, where, besides security, they had an opportunity of watching the motions of the British and repressing any incursions from New York. In this arrangement, the strong and very important post of West Point, with its neighbouring dependencies and one wing of the army, were intrusted to the custody and conduct of General Arnold.
In order to arrange the terms of the bargain, an interview was necessary with some confidential British agent, and Major André, with whom Arnold had already carried on a correspondence under the feigned names of Gustavus and Anderson, volunteered for this purpose. The outlines of the project were that Arnold should make such a disposition of the wing under his command, as should enable Sir Henry Clinton to surprise their strong posts and batteries, and throw the troops so entirely into his hands that they must inevitably either lay down their arms or be cut to pieces on the spot. Nor was this all; other consequences followed: the remainder of Washington’s army would thus he laid open to the joint attack of the British forces both by land and water, so that nothing would remain for the American cause but slaughter, rout, dispersion and final ruin. Such a blow, it was deemed, would be irrevocable. Independent of the loss of artillery, magazines and stores, such a destruction of their disciplined troops and of their best officers must be immediately fatal.
If a presentiment of woe falls like a great cloud over the sensitive and occult spirit at the approach of evil, we may well understand why the mind of Washington at this moment was overcast by gloom and apprehension. A few hours after he had gone to Hartford, under great depression and anxiety, the necessary steps were taken for the accomplishment of this stratagem of evil. The British sloop-of-war Vulture, with Major André on board, having already ascended the Hudson, and lying now some few miles below King’s Ferry, a boat was sent off by Arnold at nightfall, which brought André on shore and landed him on the west side of the river, just below the American lines, where Arnold was waiting for him. It was morning before the arrangements were completed, and then Arnold persuaded André to enter the American lines and remain secreted all day in the house of one Smith, the person who had brought him on shore. In the meantime the Vulture, having attracted the notice of the American gunners, had found it necessary to change her position, and probably from the dread of discovery, though the true cause has never been really known, Smith refused to take André back to the ship at night as he had engaged to do.
On the second day, therefore, towards sunset, laying aside his uniform, which he had till now worn under a plain surtout, assuming an ordinary dress, and being furnished with a pass from Arnold, in the name of John Anderson, he set out on horseback, with Smith for a guide, and having passed through a remote part of the camp, and all the guards and posts, in safety, they crossed King’s Ferry and spent the night with an acquaintance of Smith’s. The next morning, the guide having conducted him safely across Croton River, left him to pursue the rest of his journey alone. He had now to pass through a district some thirty miles above the Island of New York, known as “neutral ground,” a populous and fertile region, infested by bands of plunderers, called “Cow-Boys and Skinners.” The “Cow-Boys” lived within the British lines, and bought or stole cattle for the supply of the British army. The rendezvous of the “Skinners” was within the American lines. They professed to be great patriots, making it their ostensible business to plunder all who refused to take the oath of allegiance to the State of New York. But they were ready in fact to rob anybody, and the cattle thus obtained were often sold to the “Cow-boys,” in exchange for dry goods brought from New York. By a state law, all cattle driven towards the city beyond a certain line were lawful plunder, and a general authority was given to arrest suspicious travellers.[[34]]
In passing through a place called Tarrytown, André was stopped by three young men, John Paulding, David Williams and Isaac van Wert, on the look-out for cattle or travellers. His passport at first seemed to satisfy them, and they allowed him to proceed. He had not, however, gone many yards, when one of them on recollection was so forcibly struck by some peculiarity in the stranger’s manner or countenance, that he peremptorily insisted on returning with his companions, and examining more strictly. This second thought on his part was fatal to André. André, not used to, or not prepared for such an encounter—or, as he himself said in his letter to Washington, too little versed in deception to practise it with any degree of success—offered his captors a considerable purse of gold, a valuable watch, or anything which they might name, if they would suffer him to proceed to New York.
His offers were rejected; he was searched, suspicious papers were found in his boots, and he was carried before Colonel Jamison, the commanding officer on the lines. The papers found upon André, who still maintained the name of Anderson, a supposed inhabitant of New York, were found to contain precise accounts of the state of the forces, ordnance and defences of West Point and its dependences, with the artillery orders, critical remarks on the works, the amount of men on duty each day, together with interesting particulars, which had been laid before a council of war by the commander-in-chief. Although these papers were in the handwriting of Arnold, Jamison, unable to believe that his commanding officer was a traitor, forwarded them by express to Washington at Hartford, and sent the prisoner to Arnold, informing him of his assumed name, his passport, and that papers of a very suspicious character had been found upon him. Circumstances favoured Arnold in various ways. Major Talmadge, who had been absent, returning at this moment, retained André, though the letter went forward to Arnold, and the express, with the papers themselves, sent to Washington, missed him on the road, he being then on his return to Hartford. Washington’s aides-de-camp, who preceded him, were breakfasting with Arnold when Jamison’s letter arrived. Pretending that it was an immediate call to visit one of the forts on the other side of the river, Arnold rose from table, called his wife up stairs, told her sufficient to throw her into a fainting-fit, mounted a ready-saddled horse, rode to the river-side, threw himself into a barge, passed the forts, waving a handkerchief by way of flag, and ordered his boatmen to row for the Vulture. Safe on board, he wrote a letter to Washington, declaring that the love of his country had been the ruling principle of his life; but the main purpose of the letter was to ask protection for his wife, whom he declared innocent of what he had done.[[35]]
When André found that Arnold had escaped, and that no means of delivery remained for himself, he wrote a letter to Washington, avowing his name and character. The imputation of treachery and the dread of appearing in the base light of a spy, appeared worse to him than death. Strange, that a noble nature, such as André’s unquestionably was, had not perceived from the first that the whole transaction was base, and that he was the tool of a second Judas. The burden and shame, however, of the consequences of his act bowed him down to the very dust, and he now besought of Washington that to whatever fate a rigorous policy might doom him, a decency of treatment might be observed which should testify that, though unfortunate, he was branded with nothing dishonourable, and that he was involuntarily an imposter. André was examined before a board of officers, and upon the very story which he himself told he was pronounced a spy, and as such was doomed to speedy death.
Sir Henry Clinton used the utmost efforts to save him, but the manly and frank behaviour of André, and the amiable character which he bore, pleaded for him more than all these, or than the letter which Arnold wrote to Washington on the same subject, threatening the severest retaliation if the life of André were taken. The public heart sympathised with him, but martial justice demanded his life, and his last prayer that he might be shot rather than hanged was denied. And it was right so far, that if it be justifiable to take human life, and this were a crime of which death was the penalty, the quality of the offender should make no difference; on the contrary, perhaps, even in proportion as his nature was pure and generous, so could there be the less excuse to him of a dull perception between a base and a noble action; and the intended treachery of Arnold was base in the extreme.
The day after the sentence was passed, Oct. 2nd, it was carried into execution, and the dignity and composure of the criminal is said to have excited the utmost admiration, while it melted all hearts. The sympathy which André excited in the American army, says the British chronicler of this event, is perhaps unexampled under any circumstances. It was said that the whole board of general officers shed tears at the drawing-up and signing the report, and that even Washington wept upon hearing the circumstances of his death. All those about him treated him with the most marked attention, with the greatest kindness and the most scrupulous delicacy.