The Lancaster Friendship That Touched the American Revolution: Major John André & the Cope Family

In the fall of 1775, Lancaster was a town in the uneasy middle of a revolution. The war for independence was barely months old, yet its effects reached deep into Pennsylvania’s interior. Then came the news — and soon the sight — of a group of British Army officers arriving as prisoners of war.

They were captured in the American assault on Fort St. Jean in Canada, part of General Richard Montgomery’s ill-fated campaign to bring Canada into the Revolution. To some Lancastrians, these men were the hated redcoats. To others, especially those hoping to keep a low profile, their presence was an unwelcome reminder of a conflict that could easily engulf the town.

But for 30-year-old Quaker and burgess (mayor) Caleb Cope, the arrival of one particular officer led to an act of generosity that would become one of Lancaster’s more remarkable Revolutionary-era stories.

Among the prisoners was Major John André. He was a young officer of the 7th Regiment (Royal Fusiliers) captured along with his fellow garrison members when Fort St. Jean fell to the Americans. Under the customs of the day, officers of rank were often allowed to find their own lodgings rather than endure a crowded jail.

André, charming and without a billet (a place, usually a civilian’s house, where soldiers are lodged temporarily), found an open door at the Cope residence.

The stately Georgian townhouse of the Cope’s stood at what is today the northeast corner of North Lime and Grant Streets. Temple Beth El occupies the lot at 25 North Lime Street, but in the late 18th century, this house was one of the finer residences in Lancaster. It would later be home to U.S. Congressman Abraham Herr Smith, and in the 20th century, serve as the home of Lancaster’s Temple Beth El congregation.

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It was here that André spent the winter of 1775–76, sharing the Cope family’s table and hearth while the Revolution raged elsewhere.

André was no ordinary soldier. Born in London in 1750 to a Swiss father, Antoine André, and French mother, Marie Louise Girardot, he had been educated in Geneva and spoke fluent English, French, German, and Italian. He was a skilled flautist and a passable violinist. He could draw and paint with considerable talent, having studied art in Europe.

His cultural refinement, unusual for the rough world of a frontier war, quickly endeared him to the Cope family. Most notably, André bonded with Caleb’s 12-year-old son, John Cope. When André discovered the boy’s artistic skill, he began giving him drawing lessons.

John showed remarkable promise, and André became convinced that with European training, he could follow in the footsteps of Lancaster’s own Benjamin West, who had risen to fame in Britain as a historical painter to King George III.

It wasn’t long before André proposed something extraordinary: when the war ended, John should travel with him to Europe to study art. It was an offer few young men from Lancaster could ever dream of receiving.

But Caleb Cope was a practical man and a cautious father. The ocean crossing was dangerous, the war unpredictable, and the likelihood of never seeing his son again was high. With reluctance, he refused.

Even after André was transferred to Carlisle, he persisted. In a letter dated April 3, 1776, he wrote to Caleb Cope offering to house John in Carlisle and cover all expenses for his instruction. “A little assiduity and friendship is all I ask of my young friend,” he wrote, promising to give “all my attention to his morals” and keep him from “bad habits.”

By the end of 1776, André was exchanged and returned to British service. Over the next four years, his career would take a dramatic turn. Rising to become head of British intelligence in America, he became the key go-between in Benedict Arnold’s plot to surrender West Point to the British.

When the plan collapsed in 1780, Arnold fled to the safety of the British ship H.M.S. Vulture. André, captured in disguise behind American lines, was tried as a spy.

His dignity and composure impressed even his enemies. George Washington called him “more unfortunate than criminal,” and Alexander Hamilton and the Marquis de Lafayette begged for his life. But the laws of war were clear. On October 2, 1780, at Tappan, New York, André mounted the gallows himself, placed the noose around his neck, and declared, “I pray you to bear me witness that I meet my fate like a brave man.” Many in the crowd wept.

For young John Cope, André’s departure cast a long shadow as it represented the collapse of their shared dream. His brother Thomas later wrote that John “threw aside the palette and pencil” and grew restless and idle. He took to drinking heavily and became a fixture among Lancaster’s more reckless youth, a group Thomas described as “the devotees of frolic of every description, with which Lancaster… overflowed.”

Only when his father allowed him to apprentice with a clockmaker in York did John begin to rebuild his life. But, according to Thomas, the disappointment of losing André’s mentorship left a permanent mark.

The Cope house is long gone, demolished in the mid-20th century. Temple Beth El now occupies the site, but the congregation has since moved to East Petersburg. However, a pair of small artifacts survive in the form of two bricks from the original townhouse wall. On them are carved the initials of John André and John Cope — a quiet, tantalizing remnant of a friendship forged in a turbulent time.

It’s easy to think of the Revolution in terms of battles, generals, and treaties. But here in Lancaster, the war also lived in the homes, streets, and personal connections of its people.

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