Free Graham Greene by The Spy's Bedside Book

beforehand, I was conducted within one of your posts.” On 29 September he was brought before a military board convoked by Washington, which includedLafayette and other distinguished officers. The board found, as it could not possibly avoid finding, that André had acted in the character of a spy. He was therefore sentenced to execution by hanging. Every possible effort was ineffectually made by the British Commander to save him, short of delivering up Arnold, which of course could not be contemplated. Washington has been unreasonably censured for not having granted him a more honourable death. To have done so would have implied a doubt as to the justice of his conviction.
    André was executed on 2 October, meeting his fate with a serenity which extorted the warmest admiration of the American officers, to whom, even during the short period of his captivity, he had greatly endeared himself. A sadder tragedy was never enacted, but it was inevitable, and no reproach rests upon any person concerned except Arnold. Washington and André, indeed, deserve equal honour: André for having accepted a terrible risk for his country and borne the consequences of failure with unshrinking courage; and Washington for having performed his duty to his own country at a great sacrifice of his feelings.
    RICHARD GARNETT
    Oh Washington! I thought thee great and good,
Nor knew thy Nero-thirst of guiltless blood!
Severe to use the pow’r that fortune gave,
Thou cool determin’d murderer of the brave!
Lost to each fairer virtue, that inspires
The genuine fervour of the patriot fires!
And you, the base abettors of the doom,
That sunk his blooming honours in the tomb,
Th’ opprobrious tomb your harden’d hearts decreed,
While all he ask’d was as the brave to bleed!
No other boon the glorious youth implor’d
Save the cold mercy of the warrior-sword!
O dark, and pitiless! your impious hate
O’er-whelm’d the hero in the ruffian’s fate!
Stopt with the felon-cord the rosy breath!
    And venom’d with disgrace the darts of death!
Remorseless WASHINGTON ! the day shall come
Of deep repentance for this barb’rous doom!
When injur’d ANDRE ’s memory shall inspire
A kindling army with resistless fire;
Each falchion sharpen that the Britons wield,
And lead their fiercest lion to the field!
Then, when each hope of thine shall set in night,
When dubious dread, and unavailing flight
Impel your host, thy guilt-upbraided soul
Shall wish untouch’d the sacred life you stole!
And when thy heart appall’d, and vanquish’d pride
Shall vainly ask the mercy they deny’d,
With horror shalt thou meet the fate thou gave,
Nor pity gild the darkness of thy grave!
For infamy, with livid hand, shall shed
Eternal mildew on the ruthless head!
    Oh murder’d ANDRE ! for thy sacred corse;
Vain were an army’s, vain its leader’s sighs!—
Damp in the earth on Hudson’s shore it lies!
Unshrouded welters in the wint’ry storm,
And gluts the riot of the Tappan-worm! 1
    ANNA SEWARD
    1 Tappan—The place where Major André was put to death.

22. THE POLICE SPY
    squeaky voice screamed, “Confession or no confession, you are a police spy!”
    The revolutionist Nikita had pushed his way in front of Razumov, and faced him with his big, livid cheeks, his heavy paunch, bull neck, and enormous hands. Razumov looked at the famous slayer of gendarmes in silent disgust.
    â€œAnd what are you?” he said, very low, then shut his eyes, and rested the back of his head against the wall.
    â€œIt would be better for you to depart now.” Razumov heard a mild, sad voice, and opened his eyes. The gentle speaker was an elderly man, with a great brush of fine hair making a silvery halo all round his keen, intelligent face. “Peter Ivanovitch shall be informed of your confession—and you shall be directed …”
    Then turning to Nikita, nicknamed Necator, standing by, he