On my return toward Stony Point, I tarried at and sketched Smith’s House, delineated on page 720. It is in the present possession of William C. Houseman, whose good taste has adorned the grounds around it with fine shrubbery. It is located upon the brow of an eminence, known, for obvious reasons, as Treason Hill, and commands an extensive view of the Hudson and the country beyond. 1 From the window in the second story, where, tradition avers, Andrè looked with anxious eyes for the appearance of the Vulture, I made the drawing printed on the opposite page. Between the foreground and the river is seen the broad alluvial fiat in the rear of Haverstraw, and on the brink of the water is the village. The headland on the left is Teller’s Point, and the highest ground on the extreme right is Torn Mountain, extending down to the verge of Haverstraw Bay, where it is called the Hook Mountain. The vessel in the river denotes the place where the Vulture lay at anchor.

The village of Tarrytown lies scattered over the river front of the Greenburgh Hills, and presents a handsome appearance from the water. It is upon the site of an Indian village called Alipconck, which, in the Delaware language, signifies the Place of Elms. The Dutch, who settled there about 1680, called the place Tarwe Town, or "wheat town," probably from the abundant culture of that grain in the vicinity. 2 The salubrity of its climate, and the commanding river view in front, has always made it a desirable place of residence. During the Revolution it was the theater of many stormy scenes, consisting chiefly of skirmishes between the lawless bands of marauders known by the distinctive appellation of Cow-boys and Skinners. 3 These infested the Neutral Ground 4 in West Chester, and made it a political and social hell for the dwellers. Many left it, and allowed their lands to become a waste, rather than remain in the midst of perpetual torments.

The place where Andrè was captured is upon the turnpike on the northeast verge of the village, three quarters of a mile from the river, and near the academy of Mr. Newman. A few yards south of the academy, a small stream crosses the road and runs through a deep ravine riverward. The marshy and thickly-wooded glen into which it poured was known as Wiley’s Swamp. A little south of this stream, on the west side of the road, is a dwarf cedar, near which (indicated, in the picture, by the spot where the figure sits) are the remains of a tree, said to be that of the stately white-wood under whose shadow the captors of Andrè caused him to strip, and then made the momentous discovery of the papers in his stocking. 5 By a spring in the grove, just over the fence on the left, the young men were card-playing when their victim approached. We will not anticipate the history in the description, but here resume the narrative of events connected with Andrè’s capture and trial, from the time we left him and Smith to pursue their journey from Verplanck’s Point toward the Neutral Ground.

It was after dark [September 22, 1780.], when Andrè and Smith left Verplanck’s Point. They took the road toward White Plains, and met with no interruption until hailed by a sentinel near Crompond, a little village eight miles from Verplanck’s Point. 6 He belonged to a party under Captain Boyd. That vigilant officer made many and searching inquiries of the travelers, and would not be satisfied that all was right until he procured a light and examined the pass from Arnold, which they assured him they possessed. During the investigation Andrè was uneasy, but the pass being in explicit terms, and known to be genuine, Captain Boyd was readily persuaded that all was correct. The captain apologized for the strictness of his scrutiny, and manifested much concern for their safety on account of the prevalence of Cow-boys in the neighborhood. He advised them to remain till morning; but Smith assured him that their business was urgent, and it was necessary for them to proceed immediately toward White Plains. The captain magnified the dangers to which they were exposed, and Smith, taking counsel of his fears, was disposed to tarry. Andrè was differently inclined, and it was a long time before he could be persuaded to turn back and take lodging at the cottage of Andreas Miller. The travelers slept in the same bed, and, according to Smith’s account, it was a weary and restless night for Andrè. He was up at dawn, and at an early hour they were again in the saddle. As they approached Pine’s Bridge, and Andrè was assured that they were beyond patrolling parties, his taciturnity and gloom were exchanged for garrulity and cheerfulness, and he conversed in an almost playful manner upon poetry, the arts, literature, and common topics. Near Pine’s Bridge 7 they parted company, after partaking of a frugal breakfast with Mrs. Sarah Underhill, whose grandson, I believe, still owns the house. Smith proceeded to Fishkill by the way of the Robinson House, where he pleased Arnold by communicating the particulars of the journey and the place where he left Andrè. It is not at all probable that Smith, at this time, was acquainted with the real name and mission of Andrè, for he knew him only as Mr. Anderson.

On the morning when Andrè crossed Pine’s Bridge, a little band of seven volunteers went out near Tarrytown to prevent cattle being driven to New York, and to arrest any suspicious characters who might travel that way. John Yerks (who was living in the town of Mount Pleasant in 1848) proposed the expedition the day before, and first enlisted John Paulding, John Dean, 8 James Romer, and Abraham Williams. They were at North Salem, and Paulding procured a permit from the officer commanding there, at the same time persuading his friend, Isaac Van Wart, to accompany them. On their way toward Tarrytown they were joined by David Williams. They slept in a hay barrack at Pleasantville that night, and the next morning early they arrived near Tarrytown. Four of the party agreed to watch the road from a hill above, while Paulding, Van Wart, and David Williams were to lie concealed in the bushes by the stream near the post-road. Such was the position of the parties when Andrè approached. The circumstances of the capture are minutely narrated in the testimony of Paulding and Williams, given at the trial of Smith, eleven days afterward. The testimony was written down by the judge-advocate on that occasion, from whose manuscript Mr. Sparks copied it, as follows: 9 "Myself, Isaac Van Wart, and David Williams were lying by the side of the road about half a mile above Tarrytown, and about fifteen miles above Kingsbridge, on Saturday morning, between nine and ten o’clock, the 23d of September. We had lain there about an hour and a half, as near as I can recollect, and saw several persons we were acquainted with, whom we let pass. Presently, one of the young men who were with me said, ‘There comes a gentleman-like looking man, who appears to be well dressed, and has boots on, and whom you had better step out and stop, if you don’t know him.’ On that I got up, and presented my firelock at the breast of the person, and told him to stand, and then I asked him which way he was going. ‘Gentlemen,’ said he, ‘I hope you belong to our party.’ I asked him what party. He said, ‘The Lower Party.’ Upon that I told him I did. 10 Then he said, ‘I am a British officer, out in the country on particular business, and I hope you will not detain me a minute,’ and, to show that he was a British officer, he pulled out his watch. Upon which I told him to dismount. He then said, ‘My God! I must do any thing to get along,’ and seemed to make a kind of laugh of it, and pulled out General Arnold’s pass, which was to John Anderson, to pass all guards to White Plains and below. Upon that he dismounted. Said he, ‘Gentlemen, you had best let me go, or you will bring yourselves into trouble, for your stopping me will detain the general’s business;’ and said he was going to Dobbs’s Ferry to meet a person there and get intelligence for General Arnold. Upon that I told him I hoped he would not be offended; that we did not mean to take any thing from him; and I told him there were many bad people on the road, and I did not know but perhaps he might be one."

COLONEL JAMESON’S HEAD-QUARTERS. 11

Jameson sent an express after Lieutenant Allen, with orders to conduct his prisoner back to head-quarters at North Castle. As soon as Tallmadge saw him, and observed his manner and gait while pacing the room, he was convinced that he was a military man; and, joining this belief with other circumstances, 12 his suspicions of Arnold’s treachery were fully confirmed to his own mind. He partially imbued Jameson with the same opinions, and that officer agreed, with Tallmadge, that it was advisable to keep their prisoner in close custody until orders should be received from Arnold or Washington. Andrè was accordingly removed, under an escort commanded by Major Tallmadge, to Colonel Sheldon’s quarters at North Salem, as a more secure place. They arrived there at about eight in the morning. Andrè was introduced to Mr. Bronson, who was attached to Sheldon’s regiment, and that gentleman kindly offered to share his little room with the prisoner. Learning that the papers found on his person had been sent to General Washington, he wrote, in Bronson’s room, a letter to the American chief, in which he frankly avowed his name and rank, and briefly related the circumstances connected with his present situation. This letter he handed to Major Tallmadge to read, who was greatly astonished to find that the prisoner in his custody was the adjutant general of the British army. The letter was sealed and sent to Washington. From that hour the prisoner’s mind seemed relieved. 13

Pursuant to an order from General Washington, Andrè was conducted to West Point, September, where he remained until the morning of the 28th [September, 1780.], when he was conveyed in a barge to Stony Point, and from thence conducted, under a strong escort, to Tappan, about two miles westward of the present Piermont, the Hudson River terminus of the New York and Erie rail-road. Major Tallmadge, who commanded the escort, and rode by Andrè’s side all the way, has left, in a communication to Mr. Sparks, an interesting account of the events of that day’s march. As he and Andrè were about the same age, and held the same rank in the respective armies, they agreed on a cartel, by the terms of which each one was permitted to put any question to the other not involving a third person. In the course of conversation, thus made as unreserved as possible, Andrè informed Tallmadge that he was to have taken a part in the attack on West Point, if Arnold’s plan had succeeded, and that the only reward he asked was the military glory to be won by such service to his king. He had been promised, however, the rank and pay of a brigadier general if he had succeeded. In reply to Andrè’s earnest inquiries respecting the probable result of his capture, Tallmadge frankly reminded him of the character and fate of the unfortunate Captain Hale. "But you surely do not consider his case and mine alike?" said Andrè. "Yes, precisely similar," replied Major Tallmadge, "and similar will be your fate." Andrè became troubled in spirit, and from that time until the hour of his execution his most poignant sorrow arose from the reflection that he was branded with the odious name of a spy. 14

As soon as Washington had completed all necessary arrangements for the security of West Point, he hastened to the army at Tappan. The next day after his arrival [September 29.] he summoned a board of general officers, and directed them to examine into the case of Major Andrè and report the result. He also directed them to give their opinion as to the light in which the prisoner ought to be regarded, and the punishment that should be inflicted. We shall visit Tappan presently, and then the events in the last scene of this drama shall be rehearsed; for the present, let us stroll about Tarrytown during the remainder of this pleasant afternoon.

ANCIENT DUTCH CHURCH. 15

After sketching a view of the spot where Andrè was captured, I walked to the famous old Dutch church of Sleepy Hollow, standing by the side of the post-road, about a mile northward. I can not better describe its location than by quoting the language of Mr. Irving concerning it. "The sequestered situation of the church." he says, "seems always to have made it a favorite haunt of troubled spirits. It stands on a knoll, surrounded by locust-trees and lofty elms, from among which its decent white-washed walls shine modestly forth, like Christian purity beaming through the shades of retirement. A gentle slope descends to it from a silver sheet of water, bordered by high trees, between which peeps may be caught of the blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass-grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there, at least, the dead might rest in peace. On one side of the church extends a woody dell, along which laves a large brook among broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees. Over a deep black part of the stream, not far from the church, was formerly thrown a wooden bridge. The road that led to it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the daytime, but occasioned a fearful darkness at night." 16

It was at this bridge, in the dark glen near the church, that poor Ichabod Crane had his terrible encounter with the headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow. 17 The road still "leads through a sandy hollow, shaded by trees for about a quarter of a mile," but "the bridge famous in goblin story" is no more. The present structure is a few yards westward of the site of the old one; and although not so shaded in cavernous gloom, is quite as romantic in its situation. From its planks there is a fine view of Castle Philipse, as the ancient manor house of Frederic Philipse was called, from the circumstance of its being originally fortified against the Indians. It is a spacious and substantial stone building, and near it is the old mill, whose wheel turned in the same place during the Revolution. The dam forms a pleasant little lake extending back almost to the bridge.

VAN WART’S MONUMENT. 19

I passed the night at Tarrytown, and the next morning rode out to the beautiful Saw-mill Valley, to visit the burial-ground at Greenburgh, wherein repose the remains of Isaac Van Wart, one of the captors of Andrè. The ground is attached to the Presbyterian church, and is near the lovely Nepera, or Saw-mill River. Over the remains of the patriot is a handsome marble monument, erected to his memory by the citizens of West Chester county, in 1829. Its completion was celebrated by a large concourse of people assembled there on the 11th of June of that year. General Aaron Ward, of Sing Sing, was the orator on the occasion. Mr. Van Wart was an efficient officer of that church for many years, and acted as chorister up to the time of his death. On returning to Tarrytown, I rode down to Sunnyside, the residence of Washington Irving, situated upon the river bank, about two miles below. It is reached from the post-road by a winding carriage-way, that cleaves rich cultivated fields and pleasant woodlands. Desirous of passing an hour at Dobbs’s Ferry, and of crossing the Hudson at Tappan in season to visit places of note there, I enjoyed the friendly greeting of the gifted proprietor but a few moments, and then pursued my journey. I subsequently visited Sunnyside, and made the sketch given on the opposite page. It was in leafy June [1850.], and a lovelier day never smiled upon the Hudson and its green banks. Close by Mr. Irving’s residence, a prospective village 18 had recently burst into existence, almost as suddenly as the leaves had unfolded from the buds in the adjacent groves; and a rail-way station, with its bustle and noise, was upon the river margin, within bird-call of the once secluded Wolfert’s Roost. I strolled along the iron way to a stile, over which I clambered, and, ascending the bank by a shaded pathway, was soon seated in the elegant little parlor at Sunnyside, where the kindest courtesy makes the stranger-visitor feel that he is indeed upon the sunny side of humanity, and in the warmest glow of that generous feeling which illumines every pen-stroke of Geoffrey Crayon. Beautified and enriched by the hand of nature, hallowed by the voice of traditionary history speaking out from the old walls and umbrageous trees, and consecrated by the presence of true genius, Sunnyside has a charm for the American mind as bewitching and classic as were the groves where Orpheus piped and Sappho sang to the Acadians of old. As I sat beneath a spreading cedar sketching the unique villa, and scolded without stint by a querulous matronly cat-bird on one side and a vixen jenny-wren on the other, and observed the "lord of the manor" leading a little fair-haired grand-nephew to the river brink in search of daisies and butter-cups, I could not repress the thoughts so beautifully expressed in his own little story of The Wife: "I can wish you no better lot than to have a wife and children. If you are prosperous, they are to share your prosperity; if otherwise, they are to comfort you. . . . . Though all abroad is darkness and humiliation, yet there is still a little world of love at home [for the husband] of which he is the monarch." 20

The residence of Mr. Irving is upon the site of the famous "Wolfert’s Roost" of the olden time. It was built by Wolfert Ecker, an ancient burgher of the town, and afterward came into the possession of Jacob Van Tassel, one of the "race of hard-headed, hard-handed, stout-hearted Dutchmen, descended of the primitive Netherlanders." Van Tassel was the owner when the Revolution broke out, and was a stanch Whig. His house was in the midst of the debatable region called the Neutral Ground, and in the broad waters of the Tappan Sea 21 in front, British vessels were almost constantly anchored. The Republican propensities of Van Tassel were well known, and as the Roost was a place of general rendezvous for the American water-guards 22 and land-scouts, he was made liable to attacks from the enemy. He pierced his old mansion with musketry loop-holes, and took other measures for defense. His garrison, per se, consisted of his stout-hearted wife and a redoubtable sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, a match, as he said, for the "stoutest man in the country." His ordnance was a goose gun "of unparalleled longitude," capable of doing great execution. He was in league with many ardent Whigs in his vicinity, who had sworn eternal hostility to the Cow-boys and Skinners who infested the region, and the Roost was their head-quarters. Van Tassel frequently joined his companions in distant expeditions. On one of these occasions, while far away from his castle, an armed vessel came to anchor off the Roost. The garrison consisted of only Jacob’s spouse, his sister Nochie, a blooming daughter, and a brawny negro woman. A boatful of armed men put off from the vessel toward the Roost. The garrison flew to arms. The goose gun, unfortunately, was with its owner. Broomsticks, shovels, and other missiles were seized, and a vigorous defense was made; but, alas it was all in vain. The house was sacked, plundered, and burned; and as the marauders were about departing, they seized the pretty "Laney Van Tassel, the beauty of the Roost," and endeavored to bear her to the boat. Mother, aunt, and Dinah flew to the rescue, and a fierce struggle ensued all the way to the water’s edge. A voice from the frigate ordered the spoilers to leave the prize behind, "and the heroine of the Roost escaped with a mere rumpling of the feathers." 23 Soon after this event Van Tassel fell into the hands of the enemy, was sent to New York, and there remained a prisoner until near the close of the war. 24 His house was rebuilt upon the ruins of the Roost and that phœnix, modified and enlarged, is the present mansion at Sunnyside.

VIEW FROM THE RUINS OF THE OLD FORT. 25

From Mr. Irving’s I rode down to Dobbs’s Ferry, two or three miles below. This is a small village, lying pleasantly upon the river slope, and along a ravine of the Greenburgh Hills, at the mouth of the Wysquaqua Creek. It derives its name from the ancient family of Dobbs, who owned the property here, and first established a ferry [1698.]. It is a place memorable in the annals of the Revolution, not for sanguinary battles, but for the relative importance of its location in the movements of armies. Upon the high bank immediately above the rail-way station at the lower landing are remains of the first fort erected there. It was built at the beginning of 1776, and in October of that year Colonel Sargent strongly garrisoned it, by order of General Heath. 26 Several other strong redoubts were thrown up in the vicinity, remains of which are still visible. One, a little southwest of the residence of Mr. Stephen Archer (the ancient mansion of Van Brugh Livingston), appears to have been equally strong with the one just mentioned. A few rods north of this mansion, in a locust grove, on the west of the post-road, are very prominent remains of a strong redoubt. They extended through the adjoining garden, but there the mounds have been leveled and the fossé filled up. These forts commanded the ferry to Paramus (now Sneeden’s) landing on the Jersey shore, and also the passage of the river. They often greatly annoyed the British shipping while passing and repassing.

THE LIVINGSTON MANSION. 27

In this vicinity the British portion of the enemy rendezvoused after the battle of White Plains [October 28, 1776.], before marching against Fort Washington [November 16.]; and at Hastings, one mile below, a British force of six thousand men, under Cornwallis, embarked in boats, and, crossing over to Paramus, marched to the attack of Fort Lee [November 18.], and then commenced the pursuit of Washington and his broken army through the Jerseys. Here, in January, 1777, the division of the American army under Lincoln was encamped for a brief space. Here was the spot selected by Arnold for his first conference with Andrè in 1780; and here, on the night of the 3d of August, 1781, while the American army lay in the neighborhood, and the chief’s head-quarters were at the Livingston mansion, a skirmish ensued between some guard-boats of the enemy and the little garrison of the fort on the river bank.

Tappan, lying upon one of the great lines of communication from the East, by way of King’s Ferry, was made a place of considerable importance as a camping-ground; its position among the hills, and yet contiguous to the river, being very favorable. When, in September, 1778, Cornwallis had possession of the Hudson portion of New Jersey, foraging parties were sent in this direction, as well as scouts, to ascertain the condition of the posts at West Point. General Knyphausen, with a large force, was at the same time on the east side of the Hudson, at Dobbs’s Ferry, and Washington believed that an expedition up the river was intended. Lieutenant-colonel Baylor, with a regiment of light horse, was sent to watch the movements of the enemy, and to intercept their scouts and foragers. He made his head-quarters at old Tappan, and there lay in a state of such unsoldierly insecurity, that Cornwallis was led to form a plan for taking his whole corps by surprise. 28 General Grey, with some light infantry and other troops, was sent, at night [September 27, 1778.], to approach Tappan on the west, while a corps from Knyphausen’s division was to approach from the east, and thus surround and capture not only the sleepers in Baylor’s camp, but a body of militia, under Wayne, who were stationed near. Some deserters from the enemy gave the militia timely warning; but Baylor’s troops, who lay unarmed in barns, 29 were not apprised of the proximity of the enemy. At midnight, Grey approached silently, cut off a sergeant’s patrol of twelve men without noise, and completely surprised the troop of horse. Unarmed, and in the power of the enemy, they asked for quarter, but this was inhumanly refused by Grey, who, like Tryon, was a famous marauder during the war. 30 On this occasion he gave special orders not to grant any quarter. Many of the soldiers were bayoneted in cold blood. Out of one hundred and four persons, sixty-seven were killed or wounded. Colonel Baylor was wounded and made prisoner, and seventy horses were butchered.

WASHINGTON’S HEAD-QUARTERS AT TAPPAN. 31

I have mentioned that, on the arrival of Washington at Tappan, he ordered a court of inquiry. This court, consisting of fourteen general officers, 32 was convened at Tappan on the 29th of September, and on that day Major Andrè was arraigned before it and examined, John Laurance, 33 afterward a distinguished legislator and jurist, was judge advocate.

MAJOR ANDRÈ. 34

The youth, candor, and gentlemanly bearing of Andrè during the trying scenes of his examination made a deep impression upon the court; and had the decision of those officers been in consonance with their feelings instead of their judgments and the stern necessities imposed by the expedients of war, he would not have suffered death. When the decision of the court was made known to him, the heroic firmness of his mind challenged the admiration of all. He exhibited no fear of death, but the manner was a subject that gave him uneasiness; he wished to die as a soldier, not as a spy. Tender of the feelings of his commander, he obtained permission of Washington to write to Sir Henry Clinton [September 29.], for the purpose of assuring him that the dilemma in which he found himself was not attributable to the duty required of him by his general. In that letter he implied a presentiment of his fate, and said, "I have a mother and two sisters, to whom the value of my commission would be an object, as the loss of Grenada has much effected their income," 35

There could be no question among military men as to the equity of Andrè’s sentence, and yet there was a general desire on the part of the Americans to save his life. Washington was deeply impressed with this feeling, and was ready to employ any measure to effect it consistent with his public duty. 36 The only mode to save Andrè was to exchange him for Arnold, and hold the traitor responsible for all the acts of his victim. This could hardly be expected, for Sir Henry Clinton was a man of nice honor; nor would the American commander make a formal proposition of this kind. It was, however, determined that an opportunity for such an arrangement should be offered, and a plan for that purpose was conceived. Washington placed a packet of papers, directed to Sir Henry Clinton, in the hands of a trusty officer of the New Jersey line, Captain Aaron Ogden, 37 containing an official account of the trial of Andrè, the decision of the Board of inquiry, and the letter written by Andrè to his general.

Ogden was directed to go to General La Fayette for further instructions, after he should arrange his escort of men, known for their tried fidelity. La Fayette was in command of the light infantry, stationed nearest to the British lines. He instructed Ogden to travel so slowly, that when he should reach Paulus’s Hook (now Jersey City), it might be so late that he would be invited to stay all night. He was then to communicate to the commandant of the post, as if incidentally, the idea of an exchange of Andrè for Arnold. Every thing occurred as was anticipated. The commandant received Ogden courteously, sent the packet across the river, asked him to stay all night, and in the course of the evening Andrè became the subject of conversation. Ogden, in reply to the commandant’s question, "Is there no way to spare Andrè’s life?" assured him that, if Sir Henry Clinton would give up Arnold, Andrè might be saved. He informed him, however, that he had no assurance to that effect from Washington, but that he had reason to know that such an arrangement might be effected. The commandant immediately left the company, crossed the river, and had an interview with Clinton. Sir Henry promptly refused compliance, for honor would not allow the surrender of a man who had deserted from the Americans and openly espoused the cause of the king. This decision was communicated to Ogden, and he prepared to return to the camp. At dawn, on mustering his men, a sergeant was missing – he had deserted to the enemy during the night. No time could be lost in searching for the deserter, and Ogden returned to Tappan without him [October 1, 1780.]. 38

Great was the distress of Sir Henry Clinton on reading Washington’s dispatch and the letter of Andrè. He immediately summoned a council of officers, and it was resolved that a deputation of three persons should proceed to the nearest American outpost, open a communication with Washington, and, presenting proofs of the innocence of Andrè, endeavor to procure his release. Toward noon on the 1st of October, General Robertson, Andrew Elliott, and William Smith, the deputation appointed by Clinton, accompanied by Beverly Robinson as a witness in the case, arrived at Dobbs’s Ferry, in the Greyhound schooner, with a flag of truce. A request for a parley had been sent by Clinton to Washington, by Captain Ogden, in the morning. General Greene was deputed by the chief to act in his behalf, and he was already at the ferry when the Greyhound came to anchor. General Robertson, with great courtesy of manner and flattering words, opened the conference, and was proceeding to discuss the subject at issue, when Greene politely interrupted him by saying, "Let us understand our position. I meet you only as a private gentleman, not as an officer, for the case of an acknowledged spy admits of no discussion." With this understanding the conference proceeded; but Robertson produced nothing new calculated to change Greene’s opinion respecting the justice of the sentence of the prisoner. A letter from Arnold to Washington, which had been kept in reserve, was now produced and read, The deputies believed that this would have the desired effect, and kept it back until verbal arguments should fail. Had their words been full of persuasion and convincing facts, this letter, so hypocritical, malignant, and impudent, would have scattered all favorable impressions in the mind of Greene to the winds. The traitor menaced Washington with dreadful retaliation if Andrè should be slain, and in prospective charged upon the commander-in-chief the guilt of causing torrents of blood to flow. 39 "It is hardly possible," says Sparks, "that this letter could have been read by Sir Henry Clinton, although written at his request, with a view of operating on the judgment and clemency of Washington. Could any language written by an individual have a more opposite tendency? Disgust and contempt were the only emotions it could excite; and it was at least an evidence that neither the understanding or the heart of the writer had been improved by his political change. Hitherto he had discovered acuteness and mental resources, but in this act his folly was commensurate with his wickedness." 40

I have said that Andrè had no fear of death, but the manner was a subject that disturbed him. When the sentence of the Board was communicated to him, he evinced no surprise or evident emotion; he only remarked, that, since he was to die, there was still a choice in the mode, which would make a material difference in his feelings. He was anxious to be shot – to die the death of a soldier – and for this privilege he importuned Washington, in a letter written the day before his execution. 41 He pleaded with a touching yet manly earnestness for this boon, but it could not be granted by the customs of war. Unwilling to wound his feelings by a positive refusal, no answer was returned either to his verbal solicitation or his letter, and he was left the consoling hope that his wish might possibly be gratified.

From a Pen-and-ink Sketch by himself. 42

Major Andrè was executed at Tappan, at twelve o’clock, on the 2d of October, 1780. 43 Doctor Thacher, then a surgeon in the Continental army, and present on the occasion, has left the following account in his Journal: "Major Andrè is no more among the living. I have just witnessed his exit. It was a tragical scene of the deepest interest. . . . . . The principal guard-officer, who was constantly in the room with the prisoner, relates, that when the hour of 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 his room in tears, he exclaimed, ‘Leave me, until 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 44 and his staff, were present on horseback. Melancholy and gloom pervaded all ranks, and the scene was awfully affecting. I was so near, during the solemn march to the fatal spot, as to observe every movement, and to participate in every emotion the melancholy scene was calculated to produce. Major Andrè 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 fears of death, appeared as if conscious of the dignified deportment 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, that 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.

PLACE OF EXECUTION. 45

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 awkward executioner. Colonel Scammel 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. It proved, indeed, ‘but a momentary pang.’ He was dressed in his royal regimentals and boots. His remains, in the same dress, were placed in an ordinary coffin, and interred at the foot of the gallows; 46 and the spot was consecrated by the tears of thousands. Thus died, in the bloom of life, the accomplished Major Andrè, the pride of the royal army, and the valued friend of Sir Henry Clinton." 47

The captors of Andrè (Paulding, Williams, 48 and Van Wart), were nobly rewarded by Congress for their fidelity. In a letter to the president of Congress [October 7, 1780.], Washington said, "Their conduct merits our warmest esteem; and I beg leave to add, that I think the public would do well to allow them a handsome gratuity. They have prevented, in all probability, our suffering one of the severest strokes that could have been meditated against us." Pursuant to this recommendation, Congress adopted a resolution [November 3, 1780.], expressive of the public sense of the virtuous and patriotic conduct of the "three young volunteer militia-men," and ordered "that each of them receive annually, out of the public treasury, two hundred dollars in specie, or an equivalent in the current money of these states during life, and that the Board of War procure for each of them a silver medal, on one side of which shall be a shield with this inscription; FIDELITY; and on the other the following motto: VINCIT AMOR PATRIÆ, ‘the love of country conquers,’ and forward them to the commander-in-chief, who is requested to present the same, with a copy of this resolution and the thanks of Congress, for their fidelity, and the eminent service they have rendered their country." 49 The medals were afterward given to the three individuals by Washington himself, at head-quarters, and the captors enjoyed the annuity during their lives. 50

Washington had learned that Arnold’s quarters in New York were next door to those of Sir Henry Clinton (now No. 3 Broadway), and that he seemed to feel so secure with his new friends that his usual caution was but little exercised. The chief conceived a plan for abducting the traitor and bringing him to the American camp. The principal difficulty appeared to be to procure the proper instruments for such an enterprise. Recent events had made the commander-in-chief suspicious, for he knew not where smaller traitors might be lurking. He sent for Major Henry Lee, the commandant of a brave legion of cavalry; a man in whose patriotism, prudence, and judgment he knew he could confide. Already he had intrusted to this officer the delicate service of ascertaining the truth of many flying rumors that other officers of high rank were likely to follow Arnold’s example. To him Washington disclosed his wishes. "I have sent for you, Major Lee," he said, "in the expectation that you have in your corps individuals capable and willing to undertake an indispensable, delicate, and hazardous project. Whoever comes forward on this occasion will lay me under great obligations personally, and in behalf of the United States I will reward him amply. No time is to be lost; he must proceed, if possible, to-night." The nature of the service was disclosed to Lee, and he promptly replied to his commander that he had no doubt his legion contained many men daring enough to undertake any enterprise, however perilous; but for the service required there was needed a combination of talent rarely found in the same individual. 51 Lee suggested a plan which was highly approved of by Washington. He named Champe, the sergeant major of his cavalry, as every way well qualified for the service, but he was afraid his sense of personal honor would not allow him to take the first step in the perilous expedition – desertion – for he was anxiously awaiting a vacancy in the corps to receive a promised commission. 52

Washington had already drawn up instructions. These were read to Champe, and he carefully noted their import in such a way that their true meaning could not be understood by another. He was to deliver letters to two individuals in New York, unknown to each other, who had long been in the confidence of the general. He was to procure such aid in bringing Arnold away as his judgment should dictate; and he was strictly enjoined to forbear killing the traitor under any circumstances. 53 These preliminaries being settled, the difficulties that lay in his way between the camp and the enemy’s outposts at Paulus’s Hook, were next considered. There were many pickets and patrols in the way, and straggling parties of American irregulars often ventured almost to Bergen Point in search of booty or an adventure. Major Lee could offer the sergeant no aid against these dangers, lest he should be involved in the charge of favoring his desertion, and Champe was left to his own resources. All that Lee could do was to delay pursuit as long as possible, after it should be ascertained that the sergeant major had deserted.

It was a bright starry night, and past twelve o’clock, when Middleton and his party took the saddle and spurred after the deserter. A fall of rain at sunset had effaced all tracks in the road, and thus favored the pursuit, for the single foot-prints of the dragoon’s horse were easily traced and recognized. 54 Often, before dawn, when coming to a fork or a cross-road, a trooper would dismount to examine the track. Ascending an eminence at sunrise near the "Three Pigeons," 55 a tavern a few miles north of the village of Bergen, they descried from its summit the deserting sergeant, not more than half a mile in advance. The pursuers were discovered by Champe at the same moment, and both parties spurred onward with all their might. They were all well acquainted with the roads in the vicinity. There was a short cut through the woods to the bridge below Bergen, which left the great road a little below the Three Pigeons. There Middleton divided his party, sending a detachment by the short road to secure the bridge, while himself and the others pursued Champe to Bergen. He now felt sure of capturing the deserter, for he could not reach Paulus’s Hook without crossing the bridge in question. The two divisions met at the bridge, but, to their great astonishment, Champe had eluded their vigilance, and was not to be found. He, too, was acquainted with the short cut, and shrewdly considered that his pursuers would avail themselves of it. He therefore wisely determined to abandon his design of going to the British post at Paulus’s Hook, and seek refuge on board one of two of the king’s galleys which were lying in the bay in front of the little settlement of Communipaw, about a mile from Bergen.

Champe found means to deliver the two letters before mentioned, and five days after his arrival in New York [October 25, 1780.], he made arrangements with one of Washington’s correspondents to assist him in abducting Arnold, and then communicated the facts to Major Lee. 56 He enlisted in the traitor’s legion, so as to have free intercourse with him, and ascertain his night habits and pursuits. In the rear of Arnold’s quarters was a garden, extending down to the water’s edge. 57 Champe ascertained that it was Arnold’s habit to return to his quarters at about midnight, and that previous to going to bed he always visited the garden. Adjoining the garden was a dark alley leading to the street. These circumstances were favorable to Champe’s plans. He had arranged with two accomplices (one of whom was to have a boat in readiness) to seize and gag Arnold, on a certain night, in his garden, convey him to the alley, and from thence, through the most unfrequented streets, to the river. In case of detection while carrying the traitor, they were to represent him as a drunken soldier whom they were conveying to the guard-house. Once in the boat, they might pass in safety to Hoboken.

Champe carefully removed some of the palings between the garden and the alley, and replaced them so slightly that they might again be removed without noise. When all was arranged, he wrote to Lee, and appointed the third subsequent night [November 5, 1780.] for the delivery of the traitor on the Jersey shore. On that evening, Lee and a small party left the camp, with three accoutered horses – one for Arnold, one for the sergeant, and one for his associate – and at midnight concealed themselves at an appointed place in the woods at Hoboken. Hour after hour passed, and the dawn came, but Champe and his prisoner did not arrive. Lee and his party returned to camp greatly disappointed. A few days afterward he received a letter from his sergeant, explaining the cause of his failure, and an assurance that present success was hopeless. On the very day when Champe was to execute his plan, Arnold changed his quarters, to superintend the embarkation of troops for an expedition southward, to be commanded by himself. 58 In this expedition the American legion was to be employed, and poor Champe, who had enlisted in it to carry out his plans, was in a sad dilemma. Instead of crossing the Hudson that night, with the traitor his prisoner, he found himself on board of a British transport, and that traitor his commander! The expedition sailed [December 16, 1780.], and Champe was landed on the shores of Virginia. He sought opportunities to escape, but found none, until after the junction with Cornwallis at Petersburg, where he deserted. He passed up toward the mountains, and into the friendly districts of North Carolina. Finally, he joined the legion of Major Lee, just after it had passed the Congaree in pursuit of Lord Rawdon. Great was the surprise of his old comrades when they saw him, and it was increased at the cordial reception which the deserter received at the hands of Lee. His story was soon told, and four-fold greater than before his desertion was the love and admiration of his corps for him. They felt proud of him, and his promotion would have been hailed by general acclamation. Knowing that he would immediately be hanged if caught by the enemy, he was discharged from service. The commander-in-chief munificently rewarded him; and seventeen years afterward, when President Adams appointed Washington to the chief command of the armies of the United States, then preparing to defend the country from the threatened hostility of the French, the chief sent to Colonel Lee for information concerning Champe, being determined to bring him forward in the capacity of a captain of infantry. But the gallant soldier had removed to Kentucky, and was asleep in the soil. 59

A few months after my visit to Tappan, I made another tour to the vicinity. I passed two days in the romantic valley of the Ramapo, through which the New York and Erie rail-way courses. Every rocky nook, sparkling water-course, and shaded glen in that wild valley has a legendary charm. It is a ravine sixteen miles in extent, opening wide toward the fertile fields of Orange county. It was a region peculiarly distinguished by wild and daring adventure during the Revolution, and, at times, as important military ground. There the marauding Cow-boys made their rendezvous; and from its dark coverts, Claudius Smith, the merciless freebooter, and his three sons, with their followers, sallied out and plundered the surrounding country. 60 Along the sinuous Ramapo Creek, before the war of the Revolution broke out. and while the ancient tribe of the Ramapaughs yet chased the deer on the rugged hills which skirt the valley, iron-forges were established, and the hammer-peal of spreading civilization echoed from the neighboring crags.

Not far distant from its waters the great chain which was stretched across the Hudson at West Point was wrought; 61 and the remains of one of the Ramapo forges, built at the close of the war, now form a picturesque ruin on the margin of the rail-way. 62 A few miles below it, Ramapo village, with its extensive machinery, sends up a perpetual hymn of industry from the wilderness. This village, now containing a population of three hundred, 63 is owned by the Piersons, the elder having established iron-works there fifty years ago. Jeremiah H. Pierson, the original proprietor, is yet living there at the age of eighty-four, and to the kind hospitality of himself and family I am indebted for much of the pleasures and profit of my visit to the Ramapo Valley [October, 1850.]. God has taken his eyesight from him, but mercifully vouchsafes good health, sound mind, sunny cheerfulness, and the surroundings of a happy family. I listened with interest to a narrative of his clear recollections of the past, and the traditions gathered from his scattered neighbors when he first sat down there in the almost wilderness. Not twenty years had elapsed since the war closed when he erected his forges, and the sufferers were living in small groups all around him. They have all passed away, and volumes of unwritten traditionary history are buried with them.

General Howe had a considerable force stationed at New Brunswick. This force was augmented early in May, and Washington received information that they had begun to build a portable bridge there, so constructed that it might be laid upon flat boats. Believing this to be a preparation for crossing the Delaware, Washington collected the new levies from Virginia and the Middle States, at Morristown, and ordered those from the eastward to assemble at Peekskill. Toward the close of May [1777.], the American army moved from Morristown, and encamped upon the heights of Middlebrook, in a very strong position, and commanding the country from New Brunswick to the Delaware. The maneuvers of detachments of the two armies in this vicinity in June [1777.] are noticed on page 331, vol. i. The British finally crossed over to Staten Island from Amboy [June 30.] on the bridge which they had constructed at New Brunswick, and entirely evacuated the Jerseys.

Washington remained at Middlebrook with the main division of the army, anxiously awaiting the movements of the enemy, until toward the middle of July. He dispatched two regiments to Peekskill, on the Hudson, and had his whole army in readiness to march in that direction, if circumstances should require. When it was certainly known that the British army had actually embarked on board the fleet, Washington moved slowly toward the Highlands by way of Morristown, Ramapo, 64 and the Clove 65. He encamped in the latter place on the 15th [July, 1777.], eleven miles above the Ramapo Pass (of which I shall presently write), and immediately sent forward Lord Stirling, with a division, to Peekskill. He established his head-quarters at Ramapo on the 23d; but so much was that region infested with Cow-boys and other Tories, that it was with great difficulty that he could obtain correct information from a distance. 66 Northward from the present Ramapo village rises a range of lofty hills, upon the highest summit of which is upreared a huge mass of granite, shaped like a mighty dome, the top covered with trees. From this eminence, five hundred feet above the village, a small portion of New York Bay, Staten Island, and the ocean near Sandy Hook, may be distinctly seen on a clear day, the distance being about thirty-five miles. To this observatory, it is said, Washington was piloted, and with his glass saw a portion of the fleet of the enemy near Sandy Hook. The Weehawken Hill obstructed a full view of New York Harbor, and the commander-in-chief was uncertain whether the whole fleet had dropped down to the Hook; but, on returning to his quarters at Ramapo, he received positive information that the British fleet had gone to sea. Convinced that Philadelphia was the destination of Howe, Washington recalled Stirling’s division from Peekskill, broke up his encampment in the Clove, and the army pursued various routes toward the Delaware. The battle of Brandywine, and other events in the vicinity of Philadelphia, which occurred soon afterward, will be noticed in subsequent chapters.

TORN ROCK. 67

On the return of Commodore Sir George Collier and General Matthews from a marauding expedition to Virginia, at the close of May, 1779, they sailed up the Hudson River to attack the forts in the Highlands [June 1, 1779.]. This expedition, as we have noticed on page 743 {original text has "175".}, was under the command of Sir Henry Clinton. As soon as Washington was advised of this movement, he drew his troops from their cantonments in New Jersey, and, by rapid marches, reached the Clove on the 7th with five brigades and two Carolina regiments. He pressed forward to Smith’s Clove, whence there were mountain passes to the forts in the Highlands, and there he encamped.

REMAINS OF INTRENCHMENTS AT THE RAMAPO PASS. 68

The two armies, which had remained nearly six weeks in the vicinity of Dobbs’s Ferry, crossed the Hudson at Verplanck’s Point, and marched by different routes to Trenton, under the general command of Lincoln; some passing through the Ramapo Valley and the Pass to Morristown, and others taking the upper route above the Ringwood Iron-works. The French took the river route, by Tappan and the Hackensack Valley, to Newark and Perth Amboy. At the latter place they built ovens, constructed boats, collected forage, and made other movements indicative of preparations to commence an attack, first upon the British posts on Staten Island, and then upon New York. Previous to the passage of the Hudson, Washington had caused deceptive letters to be written and put in the way of being intercepted, 69 all of which deceived Sir Henry Clinton into the belief that an attack upon New York city was the grand object of the Americans. The allied armies had crossed the Delaware, and were far on their way toward the head of Elk, before the British commander was fully aware of their destination.

THE HOPPER HOUSE. 70

The remains of the patriot rest beneath a small marble monument, in a family cemetery, upon a grassy knoll by the road side, not far from the mansion. This is the house wherein those letters of Washington, beginning with "Head-quarters, Bergen county," were written; it being in New Jersey, about two miles from the New York line. It was here that he received the news of the defeat of Gates at the disastrous battle near Camden, on the 16th of August, 1780; and from hence he set out on his journey to Hartford, on Monday, the 18th of September [1780.], to meet the French officers in council, the time when Arnold attempted to surrender West Point into the hands of the enemy. The venerable widow of Mr. Hopper resided there until her death in 1849, when she had reached the ninety-ninth year of her life. Her daughter, who was often dandled on the knee of Washington, is still living, but was absent on the day of my visit, and I was denied the gratification of viewing those relics of the Revolution which are preserved in the house with much care. 71

1 The Marquis de Chastellux, in his Travels in North America (i., 98, 99), says, "My thoughts were occupied with Arnold and his treason when my road brought me to Smith’s farm-house, where he had his interview with Andrè, and formed his horrid plot . . . . Smith, who was more than suspected, but not convicted of being a party in the plot, is still in prison, * where the law protects him against justice. But his home seems to have experienced the only chastisement of which it was susceptible; it is punished by solitude; and is, in fact, so deserted, that there is not a single person to take care of it, although it is the mansion of a large farm."