ANDRE, JOHN, Esq., adjutant general of the British army during the late American war, was by birth an Englishman, and born in the year 1751. From the perfect accounts of the early part of his life, he appears to have been employed in the capacity of a merchant's clerk, until about the 18th year of his age, when he quitted the compting-house for the field ; embarked for America, and afterwards entered into the service of the British army, tinder the command of sir Henry Clinton. Endowed by nature with talents of a superior order, he seems to have found sufficient leisure, while in the cantile profession, to attain a very considerable ciency in the arts of poetry, music, and painting ; and of his abilities as a writer at this time, he has left us ample proof in his epistolary letters. his great merits as a soldier, united to the most amiable and accomplish ed manners soon conciliated the affection and esteem of his associates, and raised him to the rank of a major. But his future prospects were not long after destroyed by the agency he took in a scheme that was formed for delivering to sir H. Clinton the important post at West Point. This daring and treacherous project originated with general Arnold, who, while lie held the command of that station, made overtures to the British general characteristic of his own turpitude, and by no means honourable to the character of the British commander.
West Point, called with great propriety the " Key of New-York river," was an object, the reduction of which by force had already been attempted : it was now to be effected by a different way, by the arts of bribery and corruption. The absence of Washington, who had gone to Connecticut, appeared to Arnold to afford the most favourable opportunity of carrying his plans into ope ration; his treacherous proposals were listened to by sir Henry Clinton ; and major Andre was authorized, as a confidential agent, to confer with him, and bring the negociation to a conclusion. Perceiving that very im portant advantages might result to his country from the successful result of the measure, Andre was stimulated to undertake its execution. A British sloop of war had been stationed for some time at a convenient place to facilitate the design. On the night of the 21st of Sep tember, 1780, he went aboard the sloop and was con veyed in a boat to the beach without the lines of either party. Here he met Arnold, who conducted him to the house of a Joshua H. Smith, about two miles from Stony Point. They arrived in the house just before day, and stayed there until the next morning, during which time Arnold communicated to him, in writing, the state of the army and garrison at West Point, the number of men considered as necessary for its defence, a return of the ordnance, the disposition of the artillery corps, in case of an attack, with drafts of the works, Szc. Major Andre now became extremely solicitous to return by the way he came. This however was impossible ; for the two men who had been induced to bring him on shore refused to convey him back. It was therefore necessary that he should endeavour to reach New York by land. Yielding with reluctance to the solicitations of Arnold, he laid aside the regimentals which he had hitherto worn ; and having dressed himself in a plain suit, he received a passport under the feigned name of John Anderson, by which he on horseback began his journey.
In this painful state of mind, alone and without having excited a suspicion, he passed the American guards, and had nearly reached the British lines, when he suddenly disturbed by three militia men, who were ing the country between the outposts of the hostile armies. They suddenly seized the his horse, and demanded of Andre his business in that place. It is more easy to imagine than to describe his feelings. The surprise of the moment put him off his guard; and instead of showing his pass, he hastily asked the men " Where do you belong ?" They answered, " to below." He replied, " so do I." He immediately recollected his mistake; but it was too late. The suspicions of his in terrogators were roused, and they insisted on searching him. He offered them his purse and watch, and pro mised very great rewards if they would suffer him to depart. Indignantly rejecting all his offers, they pro ceeded to search him, and found in his boots the papers which Arnold had committed to his charge. The un
fortunate Andre, even in this crisis, regardless of his own fate, was particularly solicitous to save Arnold from destruction. Having effected this object by a dexterous stratagem, he addressed a letter to general Washington, in which, with the frankness becoming a man of honour, he avowed himself under his proper name and charac ter, and detailed the whole transaction. He intimated that no apprehensions of personal safety had induced him to address the commander in chief: but that he wished to save himself from imputations dishonourable to his character. 64 It is to vindicate my fame," says he, " that I speak, not to solicit security." He request ed that he might be treated as a man of honour. " In any rigour, policy may dictate, 1 pray," adds he, " that a decency of conduct towards me may mark, that though unfortunate, I am branded with nothing dishonourable, as no motive could be mine, but the service of my king ; and that I was involuntarily an impostor." A board of general officers was appointed to take cognizance of his case, and before that body Andre offered an explanation similar in substance to that which his letter to Wash ington contained, but much more in detail. After an impartial investigation, the result of the trial was an unanimous opinion of the court martial that major An dre was a spy, and that, agreeably to the laws and usages of nations, he ought to suffer death. The peculiar situ ation of the gallant captive caused the deepest concern ,among all ranks both in the American and in the Bri tish army. "Every tongue acceded to the justice of his sentence, yet every eye dropped a tear at the neces sity of its execution."* Finding his doom inevitable, he wished some modification of that part of his sentence which related to the manner in which he should die. In a most pathetic letter to Washington, written the day before his execution, he thus expressed himself :— " Buoyed above the terror of death, by the consciousness of a life devoted to honourable pursuits, stained with no action that can give me remorse, I trust that the request I make your excellency at this severe period, and which is to soften my last moments, will not be rejected." "Let me hope sir, that if ought in my character impresses you with esteem towards me ; if ought in my misfor tunes marks me the victim of policy, not of resentment, I shall experience the operation of those feelings in your breast, by being informed I am not to die on a gibbet." The commander in chief, participating in the gene ral sorrow felt on account of his situation, immediately hid the subject for consideration before his officers. The maxims of war pronounced a modification in the manner of his death inadmissible. On the 2d of October he was led out to the place of execution, and as he went along bowed familiarly to all those with whom he had been acquainted in his confinement; and performed the last offices to himself with a composure that excited the admiration and melted the hearts of the beholders. Upon being told the final moment was at hand, and asked if he had any thing to say, he answered, " Nothing but to request that you will witness to the world that I die like a brave man." The death of Andre has been represented by Brissot, Stedman. and other writers, as a reproach to the charac ter of Washington. But let it be recollected, that, throughout the whole affair, the conduct of the com mander in chief, and that of the board of general officers, was marked by every indulgence not incompatible with their duty, and that they sincerely lamented the neces sity of the measure they were induced to adopt. Andre himself acknowledged their generosity of behaviour to him in every respect. In a conversation with a gentle man who visited him after his trial, he said, he flattered himself he had never been illiberal, but if there were any remains of prejudice in his mind, his present expe rience must obliterate them. "Never, perhaps," says general Hamilton, " did a man suffer death with more justice, or deserve it less." A monument was erected to his memory in Westminster abbey, by order of the king, with every mark of respect which could honour his virtues and commiserate his misfortunes.