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A Glimpse of Theatre History

Introduction to André, by William Dunlap

William Dunlap's André was among other things, an early example of a topical play. The central figure was the real-life, well-liked and likeable John André. He came to North America in 1774 as a lieutenant, and had soon charmed all of society, both in Philadelphia and New York. He had a lively, pleasant and polished manner. He could draw and paint and cut silhouette pictures; he could sing and write verses; he spoke five languages and even played the flute. A distinguished and fearless soldier, André was involved in the defense of St. Johns which fell to American forces after a two-month siege, on November 2, 1775. A prisoner of war, André was transferred to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Warfare in the Eighteenth Century was a gentleman's game and it was not uncommon for social niceties to be observed even with prisoners of war. Thus, enroute to Lancaster, Andre had a pleasant dinner in Haverstraw, New York, at the home of a Mr. Hays where André met Mr. Hays's brother-in-law, Joshua Hett Smith. In Lancaster, captured officers could be housed at their own expense in local inns, and sometimes in the homes of local families. André moved in with the Caleb Cope family, and quickly became a local favorite giving art lessons and charming one and all in his fluent German. He left a journal of his sojourn with the Copes that provides a fascinating glimpse into the customs of colonial Pennsylvania.

In late 1776, as part of a prisoner exchange, Andre was returned to General Howe. Back in British hands, André rose quickly through the ranks. In this happier time, then Captain André had designed the ladies dresses, composed doggerel verses and decorated the ballroom for Howe's farewell extravaganza Mischianza which took place on Mrs. Thomas Wharton's estate on the River in Philadelphia. The event was a masque-like pseudo-tournament with various "knights" vying for the favors of six Queens of Beauty dressed in what André contrived to be Turkish costumes topped by enormous headdresses festooned with pearls and jewels. The short skirts were draped with spangled silk polonaises and sashes.

By 1778, young Major John André was Adjutant General of the British Army and First Aide of Sir Henry Clinton, Howe's successor and the new British Commander in Chief. Clinton had sufficient confidence in André's talents and skills to charge André with the coordination of British intelligence activities. Clinton's trust was not ill-placed. André's journal from this period reflects his great skill in gathering information about which American officers might be corruptible, while maintaining strict secrecy within his growing spy network. Prominent among those corruptible ones was the brilliant American General Benedict Arnold. On May 10, 1779, André received an historic offer from Arnold to surrender West Point to the English -- for a fee. West Point was the strategic key to controlling the Hudson River Valley and, indeed, all of New England. Negotiations continued for months, bogged down by discussions of the fee. Arnold wanted 10,000 pounds, success or failure. Clinton demanded success. Negotiations dragged on; Clinton's attention was diverted to hostilities in Charleston. The matter seemed forgotten.But in May 1780, Arnold contacted André, informing him that Rochambeau's French force was on its way to Newport, Rhode Island. In response, Clinton broke off his Southern campaign, leaving Cornwallis in charge and returning to New York to prepare for the French assault. On July 15, Arnold raised his price to 20,000 pounds in return for successfully ceding West Point to the enemy. Arnold wrote Clinton seeking "A personal interview with an officer that you can confide in is absolutely necessary to plan matters." That officer was young Major André.

On the night of September 21, twenty-nine year old André came upriver in the British sloop "Vulture," and dropped anchored. He came ashore just south of West Point, met with Arnold in a nearby woods, and accepted a sheaf of documents written in Arnold's own hand, showing the British how the fort could be taken. He also received an American passport. Instead of returning to the sloop and slipping off into the night, André spent the night at the house of clandestine British sympathizer and acquaintance, Joshua Hett Smith. While he slept, the "Vulture" was bombarded by American artillery, and withdrew downriver. Next morning, when Smith escorted André back to the "Vulture," they discovered it gone, and realized André would have to travel on land through American-held territory to return to Clinton. Assuming that travelling in his British uniform would be too dangerous, André donned an American uniform and set out, taking the name John Anderson. Smith accompanied him through American territory, and turned back only when André was safely in British controlled territory. It wasn't long, though, before André was stopped by three Americans dressed in British uniforms.

What followed was a sequence of coincidences and near-misses worthy of a melodrama: André--British Major André--ordered the three apparently British soldiers to step aside. Sensing something amiss, they revealed themselves as Americans and immediately searched André, discovering Arnold's papers hidden in his stocking. André was immediately arrested and carried to American authorities. At first, it was assumed that André was carrying stolen papers; Washington realized that Arnold was a traitor; Arnold heard of André's capture and escaped downriver to the "Vulture" at the same time that Washington was arriving unexpectedly at West Point --all this on the day that Arnold was to have surrendered West Point to the British.

André was imprisoned at Tappan, New York, tried and on September 29, 1780, found guilty of being behind American lines "under a feigned name and in a disguised habit." October 1, he wrote to General Washington asking that he be shot "like a soldier" rather than die the ignominious death on the gallows of a common spy. His request fell on deaf ears. André was hanged at noon on October 2, 1780.

The execution for treason of Major John André, a dashing, personable young bon vivant caught the imagination of the American public in a unique way. What amounted to a sentimental cult grew up around the sensitive and heroic young man who reportedly mounted the gibbet calm to the end. The self-portrait at the right was supposedly drawn the night before his execution. He seems composed, almost bemused; more winsome than sad or terrified, the very picture of Sentimental nobility. Still, some--indeed many--vilified the treachery of the young man reserving even more vitriol for the cowardly Benedict Arnold. Ballads were written commemorating the event; parades of devilish effigies set to "The Rogues' March" were not uncommon. The American ambivalence about André and his fate is crystalized in the last two stanzas of one ballad:

When he was executed, he being both meek and mild,
Around on the spectators most pleasantly did smile;
It filled each one with terror and caus'd their hearts to bleed,
They wished that André was set free and Arnold in his stead.

Success unto John Spaulding, let his health be drank around,
Likewise to those brave heroes who fought against the crown,
Here is a health to every Soldier who fought for liberty,
And to the brave and gallant Washington of North America.

It may at first seem surprising that the ever-practical Dunlap chose to focus on the sentimental aspect of André's last days rather than the ripping good melodramatic story of his capture. Indeed, writing years later with the benefit of hindsight, he acknowledged he had chosen "a most unfortunate subject for the stage, so near the time of the event dramatised." But Dunlap must have considered that his audiences in New York would have known or would have surely remembered the original. And given the continental taste for sentimentality, and the continuing popularity of plays like Cato and The Prince of Parthia, it is not difficult to see why he chose to write the play as he did. Dunlap's verse is straightforward and supple, easy to speak and to understand. He had the best and most popular stars of his day at his disposal. The opening March 30, 1798 was profitable (a healty box office take of $875), but the play did not ultimately succeed, having only two other performances. Surely Dunlap’s play spawned the creation of the three-act pantomime, Death of Major André, and Arnold’s Treachery, or, West Point Preserved, which was staged at Philadelphia’s New-Circus later that spring.

Dunlap himself tells us of the frustrations of André's premiere in his History of the American Theatre:

The tragedy of André was performed for the first time on the 30th March, 1798. ... The play was received with warm applause, until Mr. Cooper, in the character of the young American officer, who had been treated as a brother by André, when a prisoner with the British, in his zeal and gratitude, having pleaded for the life of the spy in vain, tears the American cockade from his casque, and throws it from him. This was not, perhaps could not be, understood by a mixed assembly; they thought the country and its defenders insulted, and a hiss ensued--it was soon quieted, and the play ended with applause. But the feeling excited by the incident was propagated our of doors. Cooper's friends wished the play withdrawn, on his account, fearing for his popularity. However, the author made an alteration in the incident, and subsequently all went on to the end with applause. The applause of a theatre! The play was printed, and is forgotten. A portion of it was incorporated with a holiday drama, which the author afterwards put together, and called The Glory of Columbia--her Yeomanry, which was likewise published, and is occasionally murdered for the amusement of holiday fools. …

Our friend Cooper was at this time rather in the habit of neglecting such parts as were not first, or exactly to his mind. Young Bland was not the hero of the piece, and very little of the author's blank verse came un-amended from the mouth of the tragedian. In what was intended as the most pathetic scene of the play, between Cooper and Hodgkinson, the first, as Bland, after repeating "Oh, André--oh, André," as often as "Jemmy Thomson" wrote "Oh, Sophonisba," approached the unfortunate André, who in vain waited for his cue, and, falling in a burst of sorrow on his neck, cried, loud enough to be heard at the side scene, "Oh, André--damn the prompter!--Oh, André! What's next, Hodgkinson?" and sunk in unutterable sorrow on the breast of his overwhelmed friend, upon whose more practised stage cleverness he relied for support in the trying scene--trying to the author as well as actor and audience.

We do well to remember that the theatre is a collaborative art...