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OlAjx/.iyiZ-tJt<it / 4 T e^ 
 
 CENTESSIAL OF THE CAPTIKE 
 
 MAJOR ANDRE. 
 
 ORATION AT TARRYTOWN, 
 
 THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23d, 1880. 
 
 Hon. chaxjngey m. depew. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 John Polhe.wus, Printer, 102 Nassau Street. 
 
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 OF 
 
 
 MAJOR ANDRE. 
 
 ratiffit at Carritatoii, 
 
 S^EJFTlSMB^EIl 23d, 1880. 
 
 BY 
 
 / 
 
 Hon. 
 
 CHAUNCEY M,CpEPEW 
 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 John Polhemus, Printer, 102 Nassau Street. 
 
 
 1880. 
 
CENTENNIAL OE THE CAl'TUIIE 
 
 MAJOR ANDRE. 
 
 One hundred years ago tlie sun rose upon tlie same 
 beautiful landscape which surrounds us here to-day. The 
 noble Hudson rolled in front ; to the north were the 
 Highlands, in their majesty and strength ; on the west 
 towei'ed the mountains enclosing the Bay, and on the 
 east spread valleys and hills celebrated then, as now, for 
 their picturesqueness and commanding views. Beyond 
 the loveliness of the situation it had no greater claims 
 upon the attention of the world than hundreds of places 
 adorned by nature which have made our State celebrated 
 for the beauty and variety of its scenery. But when the 
 sun went down this spot had become one of the fields 
 priceless in the memory of mankind, where virtue is 
 vindicated, and civilization and liberty saved from great 
 disaster. The story we repeat here has as much value as a 
 lesson to the living as a reverent tribute to the memory 
 of the dead. 
 
History, traditions, legends forgotten, almost lost, in 
 the rapid mareli of events, and the wonderful development 
 of material prosperity, are so revived by these commemora- 
 tions that our county, richer than any other in the com- 
 monwealth in revolutionary recollections, becomes in every 
 part a pei'petual teacher of the labors and sacrifices of 
 pati'iotism to secure our independence. 
 
 The happiness and progress of mankind have as often 
 been advanced or retarded ])y small events as by great 
 battles. If the three hundred men with Leonidas stemmed 
 the Persian torrent, and made Thermopyhie the inspiration 
 of tAventy centuries, right here a centuiy ago to-day three 
 plain farmers of Westchester preserved the liberties of the 
 American people. 
 
 It is hard, even in imagination, to understand now the 
 condition of this region at that period. It was ominously 
 known as the neuti'al gi-ound, and marauded and harried 
 by Royal and Continental soldiers, and by Skinners and 
 Cow-boys, robbers and brigands of etjual infamy. The 
 Whig farmer saw his cattle driven off and the flames of 
 his buildings lighting the sky to-night, and mercilessly 
 I'etaliated U])on his Toiy neighbor to-morrow. Fences 
 ■were down, fi-uit rotted ungathered on the ground, rank 
 vegetation covered the unsown fields, and the gaunt and 
 vengeful citizen guai'ded with ready ^nusket his family 
 and hidden stores, or watched in ambuscade by the way- 
 side to I'ecapture his stolen property or prevent the 
 
delivery of foraged stores to the enemy. Amidst such 
 experiences and surroundings the captors of Andre passed 
 their daily lives. 
 
 September, 1780, was a gloomy and anxious time for 
 Washington and Congress. Charleston had fallen, and 
 ! Gates had been disastrously defeated. With the rout of 
 his army the whole South had come under the enemy's 
 control. New Jersey was overrun, and twenty thousand 
 men, veterans of European battle-fields, were gathered in 
 New York. The French fleet had sailed away, and a large 
 reinforcement arrived to the British navy, and Washing- 
 ton's cherished plan of a demonstration against the city 
 had to be abandoned. The only American force worthy 
 the name of an army, numbering less than twelve 
 thousand, suffering from long arrears of pay, without 
 money to send their starving families, and short of every 
 kind of supplies, was encamped at and about West Point. 
 This critical moment was selected by Arnold, with devilish 
 sagacity, to strike his deadly blow. Elated by the suc- 
 cesses which had crowned his earlier efforts, he plunged 
 into excesses, which left him without a command, bank- 
 ]U[)t in fortune, and smarting under the reprimand of 
 Congress. He still retained the confidence of Washington, 
 and anxious to secure the largest price for his treason 
 applied for and obtained the command of West Point. 
 
 The surrender of this post, controlling the passes of 
 the Hudson, with its war materials vital to the maintain- 
 
6 
 
 ance of the [tatriot airnv, and its garrison of four thousand 
 troops, together with the ^)erson of Washington, ended, in 
 his judgment, the war, and gave him a place second to 
 Monk in English history. 
 
 The success or failure of the united colonies in forming 
 an independent government depended, from the beginning 
 to the end of the contest, on the State of New York. 
 
 Through her boundai'ies ran the natural channels by 
 which the Six Nations marched to Savage Empire ; the 
 English broke the French power on this continent, and 
 emigration and commerce have peopled and enriched great 
 states. A British statesman and soldier said : ''Fortify from 
 Canada to the City of New York, and we can hold the 
 colonies together." The British Cal)inet and Generals said : 
 "Capture and place a chain of posts along the route from 
 New York City to Canada, and we can crush rebellious 
 New England and awe all the rest into submission." The 
 battle of Saratoga and surrender of Burgoyne defeated the 
 last and most formidable attempt to accomplish this result 
 by arms. Upon its bloody tield American Independence 
 was consummated. That gi-and victory which gave us 
 unity at home and rec-ognition abroad was largely due to 
 the skill, the dash, the intrepid valor of Arnold. 
 
 The issue decided in that conflict the control of the 
 passes of the Hudson, and all which would follow vvas now 
 to be reo])ened and reversed by treason, and the traitor the 
 same Arnold. For eighteen months a correspondence 
 
opened by Arnold had been carried ou between him and 
 Major Andre, acting for Sir Henry Clinton. 
 
 He wrote over the signature of Gnstavus, seeking a V)id 
 for his defection, and occasionally imparting valual)le infor- 
 mation to indicate his importance. Andre replied under 
 the name of John Anderson, testing and tempting. 
 
 These letters, moulded in the vocabulary of trade, and 
 treating of the barter and sale of cattle and goods, were 
 i-eally haggling about the price of the betrayal of the lib- 
 erties of America and a human soul. The time had come 
 for action, and the British must be satisfied as to the iden- 
 tity of their man and the fii'mness of his purpose, and com- 
 mit him beyond tlie possibility of retreat. For said Sir 
 Henry Clinton, " We propose to risk no lives upon the 
 possibilities of deceit or failure.'^ The first meeting ap- 
 pointed at Dobbs Ferry, on the 12th of September, failed, 
 and Arnold came near being captured. With rare audacity 
 lie reported his visit at once to Washington, and the next 
 day wrote a letter to General Greene expressing bitter 
 indignation against Gates for his Southern defeat, and the 
 apprehension that it would leave an indelible stain upon 
 his reputation. 
 
 Armed with a decoy letter from Beverly Robinson, 
 ostensibly about his confiscated lands, really conveying 
 information where an interview with Andre might be had, 
 lie met Washington, on his way to see Rochambeau at 
 Hartford, carried him across the river at Verplancks Point 
 
ill his barge, and asked permission to go, but tlie chief 
 declined, saying the mattei' had l)etter be left to the civil 
 authorities. An overruling Providence was piotecting the 
 patriot cause and weaving about the ph)t the elements of 
 its exposure and destruction. Baffled, but not disheartened, 
 Arnold, lurking in the Inishes of the Long Glove l^elow 
 Haverstraw, sent a ])oat at midnight to the Vulture to 
 bring Andre to the shore. The Ix^atmen, roughly handled 
 on the sloop of war for daring to approach her without a 
 flag of truce, are hurried before Andre and explain their 
 mission. He disguised his uniform in a cloak and deter- 
 mined to accompany them. The caution of Sir Henry 
 Clinton — not to go within the American lines, not to cover 
 his uniform, not to l)e tlie bearer of any papers — rings in 
 his ears. The wai'ning hand of Beverly Robinson rests 
 upon his shoulder. The danger, the disgiace, the prize, 
 are l)efore him. If detected, a s[)y ; if successful, at the 
 head of a victorious column ii[)()n Fort Putnam receiving 
 the surrender of West Point : a GeneraFs Commission ; 
 the tlianks of Parliament ; tlie knightly lionors of his King. 
 Brilliant, accomplished, ca[)tivating, cliivalric and ambitious, 
 his secret coi'respondence had revealed the defect in his 
 charactei' ; his moral sense was paralyzed in tlie presence 
 of great opportunities. 
 
 The dawn tinds Arnold and Andiv still in the thicket, 
 still disputing about the terms. Horses are hastily 
 mounted and they start for Smith's House, still standing 
 yonder above the bay. 
 
The sentiners cliallenge, the countersisj,-n, warn Andiv 
 that he is in the last position of a sohlier : disguised and on 
 a secret mission within tlie enemy's camp. All the morn- 
 ing that fearful bargaining goes on, and at last it is settled. 
 He receives the papers giving the plans, fortifications, 
 armament and ti'oops at AVest Point, the proceedings of 
 Washington's last council of war, and hides them between 
 his stockings and his feet. He receives the assurance that 
 the defences shall be so manned as to fal] without a blow, 
 and assures Arnold in return of a Brigadier-Generalship 
 in the British army, and seven thousand pounds in ]]ioney, 
 and bids him farewell, till he meets him at the close of a 
 sliam coml)at to receive Jiis surrender and sword. 
 
 Those two men thus bidding adieu on yonder hillside 
 liave determined the destinies of unborn millions, and 
 none share their secret, and there is no one to betray them. 
 Once safely back with those papers, and America's doom 
 is sealed. We bow with devout and humble thanks- 
 giving to the watchful and beneficent Providence which 
 turned most trivial circumstances into the powerful 
 elements which thwarted this welMaid scheme. Colonel 
 Livingston, commanding at Ver[)laucks, I'efused by Arnold 
 a heavy gun to fire upon the Vulture, had made it 
 so hot for her with a little four-])ounder on Teller's 
 Point, that she had dio[)[)ed down the rivei'. The timid 
 Smith, of whom [)osterity is in doubt whether he was 
 a knave or a tool, was too scared to venture to reach 
 
10 
 
 her by bo;it, and so tlic land journey was determined upon. 
 Still furtlier disguised, and armed Avitli AimioUFs pass 
 in the name of John An(h^rson, Andrr crossed the river 
 on the afternoon of the 2 2d of Septeml^er to Ver])lancks 
 Point, and safely ])assed thi-ough Livingston's camp. 
 
 Gaily he i-ides, accom])anied by Smith, through the 
 Cortlandt woods, and over the Yoi'ktown hills. He laughs 
 as he passes the ancient guide-post, bearing its legend, 
 " DIshe Jils <li Roode toe de KsJiings Farray^'' and his hair 
 stood on ^.wX^ he said, Avhen he met Colonel Webb, of our 
 army, whom he [)erfectly knew, but who stared and went 
 on. His plan is to strike the White Plains road and so 
 reach his o\vn lines. But at Ci-umpond, Captain Boyd 
 stops them. A most uncomfortable, inquisitive, vigilant, 
 and ti'oublesome Yankee, is this same Ca[)tain Boyd. 
 Arnold's ))ass stuns him, but it retpiires all the versatility 
 and adroitness of Andre to allay his suspicions. He so 
 signiiicantly recommends their remaining all night that 
 they dare not decline. A Westchester farmer's bed never 
 had two more uneasy occupants. 
 
 At early dawn they departed, with Captain Boyd 
 in the rear, and the Cowd)oys, against whom 
 Boyd had \varned them, in front — Andre's spirits 
 rose. He had left disgrace and a shameful death 
 behind, and saw only escape, glory and renown before. 
 Hitherto taciturn and de[)ressed, he now overwhelmed 
 his dazed companions with a Hood of brilliant talk. 
 
11 
 
 Poetry, music, ])elle8 lettres, the drama, the times, 
 formed tlie theme of his flowing eloquence, and ever and 
 anon as they rose the many eminences wliich command a 
 view of the Highlands, and the river, he broke out in 
 rapturous praise of the entrancing scenery. Mrs. Under- 
 hill, near Pine's Bridge, had lost her all, but one cow and 
 a bag of meal, by a raid of the Cow-bo3^s the night before, 
 but with true county hospitality she spread before them 
 the time-honored Westchester dish of suppawn and milk. 
 At Pine's Bridge, Smith's courage failed and he l)ade his 
 companion good-bye. This was another of the ti'ivial 
 incidents which led Andre to his fate. Smith, \\itli his 
 acquaintance and ready wit, would have piloted him safely 
 by the White Plains road, or upon the othei' route, and 
 satisfied the scruples of the yeomen who captured him. 
 Smith rode to West Point and by his report allayed Ar- 
 nold's anxiety, and then in the easy and shiftless char- 
 acter of everybody's friend he continued on to Fishkill and 
 supped with Washington and his staff. Andre alone, free 
 from care, decided to strike for the river — it was a shorter 
 road — and from the Cow-boys who infested it he had 
 nothing to fear ; but it was another link in the cliain 
 winding about him. The broad domains of his friends, the 
 great loyalist families, lay about him, his own lines a few 
 short hours beyond. 
 
 Saturday morning, the 23d of September, one hundred 
 years ago, was one of those clear, bright, exhilarating days. 
 
12 
 
 wlien this region is in the fullness of its ([uiet Ijeauty. 
 Tlie handsome liorseman delights the children of Staats 
 Hammond's family as they hand him a cup of water, and 
 leaves a lasting impression upon the Quakers of Chappaqua, 
 of whom he inquires the distance to Tarrytown. Through 
 Sparta, he sti'ikes the j-iver road, and gallops along that 
 most picturesque highway, the scenery in harmony with 
 the brilliant future spread before his imagination. He 
 recognizes the old Sleepy Hollow Church, with its ancient 
 bell bearing the motto. Si Dens pro iiohia, quis contra ii.os, 
 and a half mile in front sees the bridge over the little brook 
 which was to be for him a fatal Rubicon On the south side 
 of that stream, in the Ijushes })laying cards, were three 
 young farmei-8 of the neighborhood — John Paulding, David 
 AVillianis and Isaac V^an AVart — watching to intercept the 
 Cow-boys and their stolen cattle. At the approach of the 
 hoi-semaii, Paulding stej)s into the road, presents his musket 
 and calls a halt. It was nine in the morning; they have 
 been there but an hour. An earlier start, a swifter pace, and 
 Andi'c would have esca[)ed ; but this was still another of 
 the tiivial incidents in the fatal combination about him 
 Andre speaks tii'st. "My lads, I hope you belong to our 
 party." " Which i)arty," they said. " The lower party," he 
 answered. "We do." " 'I'heu thaid< God," said he, " I am once 
 moi-e among friends. 1 am a l>iitish officer, out on partic- 
 ular business, and must not be detained a minute." Then 
 they said, "We are Americans, and you are our prisoner 
 
18 
 
 and must dismount." " My God," he said, laughing, '' a man 
 must do anything to get along,'' and presented Arnold's 
 pass. Had he presented it first, Paulding said, afterwards, 
 he would have let him go. They carefully scanned it, but 
 persisted in detaining him. He threatened them with 
 Arnold's vengeance for this disrespect to his order; but, in 
 language more forcible than polite, they told him "they 
 cared not for that," and led him to the great whitewood 
 tree, under which he was searched. As the fatal papers 
 fell from his feet, Paulding said, " My God, here it is," and, 
 as he read them, shouted in high excitement to his compan- 
 ions, " By God, he is a spy." 
 
 Now came the crucial and critical moment. Andre, 
 fully alive to his danger, and with every faculty alert, felt 
 no alarm. He had the day before bargained with and 
 successfully bought an American Major-General of the 
 highest military i-eputation. 
 
 If a few thousand pounds and a commission in the 
 British army could seduce the commander of a district, 
 surely escape was easy from these three young men, but 
 one of whom could read, and w^ho were buttressed by 
 neither fame nor fortune. "If you will release me," said 
 Andre, " I will give you a hundred guineas and any 
 amount of dry goods." "I will give you a thousand 
 guineas," he ciied, "and you can hold me hostage till one 
 of your number returns with the money." 
 
 Then Paulding swore, " We would not let you go for 
 
14 
 
 ten tliousaiid guineas/' That decision saved the liberties 
 of America. It voiced tlie spirit which sustained and 
 carried throuLili tlie revolutionary struggle for nationality, 
 and crushed the rebellion waged eighty years afterwards 
 to destroy that nationality — the invincible courage and 
 impregnable virtue of the conunon people. 
 
 As Washington was riding that night from Hartford, 
 depressed by the refusal of Count Rochambeau, tlie French 
 General, to co-()[)erate in his plans, and to be overwhelmed 
 on the morrow by Arnold's jistounding treason, all along 
 the route enthusiastic throngs with torches and acclama- 
 tions hailed his ap}»roach. "AVe may be beaten by the 
 Eno-lish/' he said to Rochambeau's Aid, "it is the fortune 
 of war ; but l)ehold an army which they can never conquer." 
 With one of his captors in front, the others on either 
 side of his horse, Andre is cari'ied to (Jolonel Jameson's, 
 the nearest American post. The gay horseman has come to 
 grief, and the buoyant gallop to the front has turned into 
 a funeral march to the rear, and he recalls the ill omen of 
 the song sung })v Wolfe the night before the storming of 
 Quebec, and \\ Inch \w had repeated at the farewell dinner 
 given him the evening of his departure on this fatal errand. 
 
 Why, soldiers, why. 
 
 Should we be melancholy boys, 
 
 Why, soldiers, why, 
 
 Whose business 'tis to die. 
 
 Jameson, a bi'ave and honest soldier, was easily duped 
 
15 
 
 by the courtly arts of Andre. While he sent the papers by 
 special messenger to Washington, he was persuaded by 
 Andre to forward him with a letter descriptive of his 
 capture to Arnold. Once there and both had escaped. 
 The vigilant and suspicious Major Tallmadge induced 
 Jameson to bring back Andre ; but to recall the letter to 
 Arnold, he positively refused. Jameson's messenger to 
 Washington, mistaking his road, did not reach West Point 
 till the next noon ; his messenger to Arnold arrived in the 
 mornino'. 
 
 Washington, on approaching the river, according to his 
 habit, proceeded at once to examine the fortifications. La 
 Fayette reminded him that Mrs. Arnold's breakfast was 
 ^vaiting. " You young gentleman are all in love with Mrs. 
 Arnold," he said. " You go and tell her not to wait for 
 me, I will be there in a short time." Hamilton and Mc- 
 Henry delivered the message, and were welcomed by Ar- 
 nold and his wife. 
 
 In the midst of the meal Allan, the messenger, delivered 
 Jameson's letter. Arnold's iron nerve held him unconcei-n- 
 edly at the table a few moments ; then, saying he must go 
 over to the Point to prepare for the reception of the Gen- 
 eral, he arose. 
 
 His wife followed him up stairs. Hastily informing 
 her of his ruin and bidding her perhaps a last farewell, as 
 she fell fainting to the floor, he kissed his sleeping baby, 
 stepped a moment into the bi-eakfast room to inform his 
 
16 
 
 guests of tlie su(l(l(-n illiiessof l»is wife, aii<], followed by liis 
 boat's crew, daslied down the liillside to the river. 
 
 The}^ must row with all their might, he told them, as 
 he had a message to deliver on board the Vulture, eigli- 
 teeu miles below, for Washington, and should be back 
 before evening. He reprimed his pistols, and, ^vith one in 
 each hand, sat resolved to die the death of a suicide rather 
 than be captured. By j)romises of re^vard, l)y voice and 
 gestui-e, he urges his crew to their best exertions. His 
 guilty soul peopling every tui'n of the river with avenging 
 pui'suit, he sails thi'ough the Highlands, waving his hand- 
 kerchief as a Hag to his forts, redoubts and patrols, aston- 
 ishing the vigilant Livingston at Verplancks with the spec- 
 tacle of his commander makinir sti-aio^ht foj- the British 
 sloop of war, and takes tlie first free breath of relief as he 
 steps on the deck of the Vulture. 
 
 To his coxswain he offers a commission, to the crew 
 rewards, if they will desert and join the British. They 
 nnauimously refuse, and Larvey the coxswain replies : " If 
 General Arnold likes the King of England, let liini serve 
 him; we love our country, and intend to live or die in sup- 
 ]X)rt of her cause." At Arnold's command they are made 
 prisoners, and he stood thei'e among tlieni then, as he stands 
 pilloried in history for all time, the only American soldier 
 who, during the revolutionary war, turned traitor to liis 
 country. As Washington returns from the inspection at 
 West Point, to Arnold's headqmirters, at the liobinson 
 
17 
 
 House, lie finds Haiiiiltoi), holding Jameson's letters and 
 the papers found on Andre. Then he understands Arnold's 
 sudden flight, the failure to gj'eet him from the batteries 
 with the accustomed salute, the general negligence and 
 ^vant of preparation for attack everywhere found He 
 stands on a mine. How far does this conspiracy extend 'i 
 Who else are implicated ? The enemy may come this very 
 night, and who shall be placed in posts of danger ? De- 
 spairingly he says : " Whom can we trust no^v 'i " 
 
 But Washington's greatness shone conspicuously in great 
 emergencies. Hamilton is dispatched to intercept Arnold, 
 if possible, Tallmadge is ordered to bring Andre with 
 triple guards to West Point, Greene at Tappan is directed 
 to put the whole army in marching order, and before night 
 every fort and defence from Putnam to Verplancks is ready 
 for any assault. Then, with no outward sign of excitement, 
 Washington sat down to dinner, and with courtly kindness 
 sent word to Arnold's hysterical and screaming wife : " It 
 was my duty to arrest General Arnold, and I have used 
 eveiy exertion to do so, but I take pleasure in informing you 
 that he is now safe on board the Vulture." Andre was 
 brought to AVest Point that night, and taken to the head- 
 quarters of the army at Tappan the next day. According 
 to the laws and usages of war in relation to spies, Wash- 
 ington could have ordered him summarily to execution. 
 But threats of retaliation, impudent letters from Arnold, 
 extraordinary appeals and interpretations of Andre's con- 
 duct and position from Sir Henry Clinton, began to pour 
 in upon the Commander-in-Chief. He ordered a board of 
 officers to be convened, and submitted the case to their 
 
18 
 
 consideration. It was as august a tril)unal as ever sat 
 under like circumstances : six major-generals and eight 
 brigadiers — as eminent as any in the service, including the 
 foreign officers La Fayette and Steuben — formed the Court. 
 They gave Andre every opportunity to present his o^vn de- 
 fence, and when the facts were all in, unanimously adjudged 
 him guilty, and that he must suffer the death of a spy. 
 His youth, graces and accomplishments, his dignity and 
 cheerfulness, won the affections of his guard and the ten- 
 derest sympathy of the whole array. There was not a 
 soldier present ^vho would not have risked his life, if by 
 so doing Ai-nold might be captured and substituted in 
 Andre's place. In all the glittering splendor of the full 
 uniform and ornaments of his rank, in the presence of the 
 whole American army, without the quiver of a muscle or 
 sign of fear, the officers about him weeping, the bands 
 playing the dead march, he walked to execution. His last 
 words were of loving solicitude for the welfare of mother 
 and sisters in distant Britain, and the manner of fame he 
 would leave behind. " How hard is my fate, but it will 
 be but a momentary pang," he said, as he pushed aside the 
 executioner and himself adjusted the rope. To those 
 around he cried : " T })ray you to bear witness that I meet 
 my fate like a brave man," and swung into eternity. 
 
 The supernatural served to add to the interest and per. 
 petuate the memory of this tragedy. On the day of his 
 execution the great tree under which he was searched was 
 shattered by a bolt of lightning; and at the same hour, at 
 his home in England, his sister awoke from a troubled sleep 
 screaming, " My brother is dead ; he has been hung as a spy." 
 
19 
 
 In the British Army, and in England, the wiklest in- 
 dignation bni'st out against Washington. Andre was 
 mourned and honored as if he had fallen in a moment of 
 glorious victory at the head of his column. His brother 
 ^VRS knighted, his family pensioned, and his King declared 
 in solemn message that "the public can never be com- 
 pensated for the vast advantages which must have followed 
 from the success of his plan." In Westminster Abbey, 
 that grand mausoleum of England's mighty dead, where 
 repose her greatest statesmen, warriors and authors, the 
 King placed a monument bearing this inscription : " Sacred 
 to the memory of Major John Andre, who, raised by his 
 mei'it, at an early period of his life, to the rank of 
 Adjutant-General of the British forces in America, and 
 employed in an important but hazardous enterprise, fell 
 a sacrifice to his zeal for his King and country." 
 
 Forty years afterwards a Royal embassy came to this 
 country, disinterred his remains at Tappan, and a British 
 frigate sent for the purpose bore them to England, where 
 they were buried beside his monument with imposing 
 ceremonies. One of the most enlightened and liberal of 
 England's churchmen, in a recent visit to this land, wrote 
 the insci-iption for, and urged the erection of, the monu- 
 ment to Andre's memory at Tappan, as the one act wdiich 
 would do more than anything else to remove the last ves- 
 tiges of enmity between the United States and Great 
 Britain . 
 
20 
 
 Aiidiv'.s story is the oiic ox erniasterinj;' roiiuuR'e of 
 the i-evoliition. Aiuuriraii and English literatni'e are 
 full of elo(iuence and poetry in triVjute to his memory and 
 sympathy for his fate. After the lai)se of a hundred years 
 tliere'is no abatement of al)sorl)ing interest. What had 
 this young man done to merit immortality t The 
 mission, wliose tragic issue lifted him out of the 
 oblivion of other minor British otiicers, in its inception 
 was free from peril or daring, and its objects and 
 purposes were utterly infamous. Had he succeeded b}^ 
 the desecration of the honorable uses of passes and 
 flags of truce, his name would have beiMi held in ever- 
 lasting execration. In his failure, the infant Republic 
 escaped the dagger with which he was feeling for its heai't, 
 and the crime was drowned in tears for his untimely end. 
 Ilis youth and beauty, his skill with pen and pencil, his 
 effervescing spirits and uiagnetic disposition, the lu'ightness 
 of his life, the calm courage in the gloom of his death, his 
 early love and disappointment, and the image of his lost 
 Honora hid in his mouth when captured in Canada, \\ith 
 the exclamation, "That saved, T care not for the loss of all 
 the rest,'' and nestling in his bosom when he was slain, sur- 
 j'ounded him with a halo of poetry and pity which have 
 secured for him what he most souj^ht and could never have 
 Avon in battles and sieges — a fame and recognition A\liich 
 liave outlived that of all the generals under whom he served. 
 
 Are Kings only grateful, and do Republics forget ? Is 
 
21 
 
 fame a travesty, and the Judgment of mankind a farce? 
 America had a parallel case in Captain Nathan Hale, Of 
 the same age as Andre, he graduated at Yale College with 
 high honors, enlisted in the patriot cause at the beginning 
 of the contest, and secured the love and confidence of all 
 about him. When none else would go upon a most im- 
 portant and pei'ilous mission, he volunteered, and was cap- 
 tured by the British. While Andre received every kind- 
 ness, courtesy and attention, and was fed from Washing- 
 ton's table. Hale was thrust into a noisome dungeon in the 
 sugar- house. While Andre was tried by a board of offi- 
 cers, and had ample time and every facility for defence, 
 Hale was summarily ordered to execution the next morning. 
 While Andre's last wishes and bequests were sacredly fol- 
 lowed, the infamous Cunningham tore from Hale his cher- 
 ished Bible, and destroyed before his eyes his last letters 
 to his mother and sister, and asked him what he had to 
 say. " All I have to say," was Hale's reply, " I regret I 
 have but one life to lose for my country." His death was 
 concealed for months, because Cunningham said he did not 
 want the rebels to know they had a man who could die so 
 bravely. And yet, ^vhile Andre rests in that grandest of 
 mausoleums, where the proudest of nations garners the 
 remains and perpetuates the memories of its most eminent 
 and honored children, the name and deeds of Nathan Hale 
 have passed into oblivion, and only a simple tomb in a vil- 
 lage church-yard marks his resting-[)lace. The dying decla- 
 
22 
 
 rations of Aiidiv and Hale express tlie animating spirit of 
 their several Mrniies, and teach why, with all her power, 
 England could not conquer America. "I call upon you to 
 witness that I die like a])rave man," said Andre, and he spoke 
 from British and Hessian surroundings, seeking only glory 
 and pay. " I regret I have but one life to lose for my country," 
 said Hale; and with him and his comrades self was forgot- 
 ten in that a1>s<)rl)ing, passionate patriotism which pledges 
 foi'tune, honoi- and life to tlie sacred cause. 
 
 But Re[)ublics are not ungrateful. The captors of Andre 
 wei'e honored and rewarded in theii' lives, and grateful 
 genei'ations celebrate their deeds and I'evei'e their memoi'ies. 
 Washington wrote to Congress: "The pai'ty that took 
 Major Andre'' acted in such a manner as does them the high- 
 est honor, and |)roves them to be men of great virtue ; their 
 conduct gives them a just claim to the thanks of tlieir coun- 
 ti-y." Congress acted ])i'(>mptly. It thanked them by resolu- 
 tion, granted to each an aniuiity of two hundred dollai's for 
 life, and twelve hundred and fifty doHai's in cash, or the same 
 amount in conhscated lands in Westchester County, and 
 diiected a siivei' medal bearing the motto " Fidelity " on the 
 one side and " Vincit Amor Patiiu' " on the other, to be pre- 
 sented to them. The Legislature of the State of New York 
 ga\e to each of them a farm in consideration — reads the 
 act — of " tlieir virtue in refusing a large sum offered to tliem 
 l)y Major Andiv as a bribe to permit him to escape." 
 SI»oi'tly after, Washington gave a grand dinnei' ]>arty at 
 
23 
 
 Verplancks Point. At the table were his staff and the 
 famous generals of the army, and as honored guests these 
 three young men — Paulding, Williams and Van Wart — 
 whose names were now household words all over the land ; 
 and there with solemn and impressive speech Washington 
 presented the medals. Paulding died in 1818, and in 1827 
 the Corporation of the City of New York placed a monu- 
 ment over his grave in the old cemetery just north of 
 Peekskill, reciting, " The Corporation of the City of New 
 York erected this Tomb as a Memorial Sacred to Public 
 Gratitude,'' the Mayor delivering the address and a vast 
 concourse participating in the ceremonies. Van Wart died 
 in 1828, and in the Greenburgh church-yard the citizens 
 of this county erected a memorial in "Testimony of his 
 virtuous and patriotic conduct." Williams died in Liv- 
 ingston ville, in Schoharie County, in 1831, and was 
 buried with military honors. In 1876 the State 
 erected a monument, and his remains were re-interred 
 in the old stone fort at Schoharie Court House. On 
 the spot where Andre was captured the young men 
 of Westchester County, in 1853, built a cenotaph 
 in honor of his captors. Arnold, burned in effigy in 
 every village and hamlet in America, received his 
 money and a commission in the British army, but was 
 daily insulted by the proud and honorable offcers upon 
 whom his association was forced, and who despised alike 
 the treason and the traitor. His infamy has served to gild 
 
24 
 
 and gloss the acts of Andiv, and deepening with succeed- 
 ing years l)iings out with each generation a clearer and 
 purer appreciation of tlie virtue and patriotism of Paulding, 
 Williams and Van Wart. 
 
 Pity for Andre led to grave injustice to AA'ashington and 
 detraction of his captors, which a century lias not etfaced. 
 Sir Henry Clinton and his officers, in addresses and memoirs, 
 denounced the execution of Andre as without justification. 
 A contemporary British poetess characterized Washington 
 as a '' remorseless murderer," and one of the latest and 
 ablest of England's historians says this act is the one indel- 
 ible " blot upon his character," and that the decision of 
 tlic military tri])unal composed of men ignorant of ^^attel 
 and Piitfen(U)rtf, and fresh from " ])]()Ugh liandles and sliop 
 boards," does not I'elieve him. It lias liccome a conviction 
 abroad, and to some extent a sentiment liere, that a grave 
 and Fatal error was committed. It is claimed that Andre 
 was under tlu^ protection of a flag of truce, that he was 
 within the Ameri(tan lines upon tlie invitation of the coin- 
 mandei' of the district, and untk'i' tlie protection of that 
 General's pass, that his intent was free fi"(»m tur[)itude, and 
 the circumstances surrounding his position entitled him to 
 exchange or discharge. When Andiv was on trial upon the 
 chai'ge of being a spy, he testified in his own behalf that 
 " he liad no reason to su])pose he came on slioi-e under a 
 tlag of truce," and such is the concurrent testimony of all 
 the wit.uesses. The story w as tl;ie subsequent invention of 
 
25 
 
 Arnold. But even if true, the Hag is recognized in the usages 
 of war for definite and honorable purposes — it ameliorates 
 the horrors of the conilict ; but, when used as a cover for trea- 
 sonable purposes, loses its character and protective power. 
 To present it as a defence and shield for the corrupt cor- 
 I'espondence of the enemy's emissary and a traitorous officer, 
 is a monstrous perversion. It is true, he was present at 
 Arnold's invitation and carried his pass, but he knew the 
 object of his visit, and did not hold the pass in his own 
 name and title. Months before he had written to Colonel 
 Sheldon, commanding the Continental outposts, that under 
 tiag and pass he proposed visiting, on important business, 
 (leneral Arnold, at West Point, and requesting safe con- 
 duct, and signing and representing himself as John Ander- 
 son, a ti'adei'. The meeting which finally took place was 
 an appointment often l)efore thwarted, and its object 
 to tamper with the integrity and seduce from his alle- 
 giance the enemy's officer. The signals and agencies 
 of communication and travel between hostile forces were 
 collusively used to procure the l)etrayal of an arm}^ and 
 the ruin of a nation. Andre landed at Haverstraw to traf- 
 fic with the necessities and tempt the irritated pride of a 
 bankrupt and offended general, and having succeeded in 
 seducing him to surrender the forts and trusts under his 
 command, Benedict Arnold, so far as his confederate Andre 
 was concerned, ceased from that moment to be the Ameri- 
 can commanderj and any papers issued by him to further 
 
26 
 
 and conceal the scheme were absolutely void. His pass 
 and safe conduct were nc^t only vitiated in their inception 
 l)y the joint act of giver and I'eceiver, secreting treason in 
 them, but they were issued to an assumed name and borne 
 in a false character, A Bi'itish soldier found disguised in 
 the American lines, with the plans of the patriots' forts, 
 the details of their armaments and the outlines of the plot 
 for their betrayal hidden in his boots, lost, with the discov- 
 ery of his personality and pui'poses, the protection of a 
 fraudulent cei'tificate. Greene and Knox, and La Fayette 
 and Steuben, and the other members of the board of offi- 
 cei's who tried and convicted Andre, may possibly have 
 l)een ignoi'ant of the great authorities upon international 
 law ; but had they studied, they would have found in them 
 both precedent and justification. While the laws of war 
 justify tampering with the opposing commander and com- 
 passing his desertion, the sudden, unsuspected, unguar- 
 dable and overwheltaing charactei' of the blow render it 
 the highest of crimes, and subjects those detected and 
 arrested in the act to summary execution. A general is 
 commissioned by his governmeut to fight its battles and 
 protect its interests. The law of principal and agent is as 
 applicable as to a civil transaction, and all who deal with 
 him, to })etray his trust, know that he is acting beyond the 
 limits of his authority. Not the least remarkable of the 
 incidents of this strange history, was the pro})osition of 
 Sir Henry Clinton to submit the question to the arbitration 
 
27 
 
 of tlie French General Roehanibeau and tlie Hessian 
 General Knypliausen. Such an offer would never have 
 been made to a European commander. It was an expres- 
 sion in a foi'ni most offensive to Washington, of that super- 
 cilious contempt for the abilities, acquirements and opinions 
 of American soldiers and statesmen, on the part of the 
 ruling classes in England, which precipitated the Revolu- 
 tion and created this Republic. The sympathy and grief 
 of Washington for Andre and his misfortunes were among 
 the deepest and profoundest emotions of his life. The 
 most urgent public necessity, the most solemn of public 
 duties demanded liis decision. The country and the army 
 were dismayed by the plot, which Congress declared ^vould 
 have been ruinous to the cause, which Greene proclaimed 
 in o;eneral order would have l)een a fatal stab at our 
 liberties, which King George the Third said possessed 
 advantages that, if successful, could not be estimated, 
 and as Sir Henry Clinton wrote, would have ended 
 the conflict. Washington's remark to La Fayette, " Whom 
 can we trust now," echoed the sentiment of the hour. 
 In that supreme moment pi'ivate considerations and per- 
 sonal pity surrendered to the requirements of official 
 responsibility, and General Washington, the Commander- 
 in-chief, stamped out treasonable sentiment within, and de- 
 terred treasonable efforts without, by signing the death 
 warrant of Major John Andre. 
 
 Andre left as a legacy a l)low at his captors, which, thirty- 
 
28 
 
 seven years afterwards, Ijoi'e extraoi'diiiary fruit. In 1817 
 one of them petitioned Congress for an increase of [)ension, 
 and Major Tallniadge, tlien a member, assailed them with 
 ijfreat vio-or and virulence. He had been a distinofuished 
 officer in the Revolutionary war. It was l)y his energy and 
 sagacity that Lt.-Col. Jameson was prevented delivering 
 Andre to Arnold, and he was in command of the guard and 
 wath Andre till his deatli. Like all the young American 
 officers .about him, Tallmadge formed a \vai'm friendship foi' 
 him, and admiration of his character and accomplishments. 
 He asserted that his captors w^ere Cow-bo}'s, and that it ^vas 
 Andre's opinion, fre(piently expressed, that they st<^pped 
 him for plunder, and would have released him if he could 
 have given security for his ransom. Tallmadge knew noth- 
 ing of either of them prior to this event, and his Judgment 
 was wholly the reiiex of Andre's expressions. Andre's 
 remarks were either a deliberate stab at the reputations of 
 the men towards whom the nation's gratitude was already 
 rising with a volume which promised an immortality of 
 fame, while he was waiting a shameful death, or in his 
 dread extremity he could neither understand any higher 
 motive in them to I'esist his offers, or regard with tolerance 
 or patience these humble peasants whose acts had ruined 
 his fortunes and delivered him to his fate. But against 
 assertions and theories stand the impregnable facts of his- 
 tory. They did reject bribes beyond the wildest dreams 
 of any wealth they ever hoped to accumulate. They did 
 
29 
 
 deliver him to the nearest American })ost, and neither asked 
 or expected any reward. Van Wart liad served four years 
 in the Westchester Militia, and his term of enlistment had 
 but recently expired. Paulding had been twice a British 
 [)risoner of war in New York, and w^as a third time 
 ^\•()unded in their hands at the declaration of peace, and 
 tlie Yager uniform in which he had escaped })ut four days 
 l)efore the capture misled Andre into the impulsive reve- 
 lation of his rank. Security for the ransom they had. As 
 they wei*e intelligent enough to understand the importance 
 of their prisoner, they knew that while two held him as 
 hostage, the third could arrange for the delivery of any 
 sum he promised upon his release. 
 
 Washington, the Continental Congress and the Legisla- 
 ture of our own State are the contemporary witnesses, and 
 their testimonies l)y words and deeds are part of the record 
 which makes this day memorable. When the news of 
 Major Tallmadge's charges was received here, sixteen of the 
 most respected and reputable men of our County, names 
 as familiar among us as household words, certified to Con- 
 gress, " that during the revolutionary war they were well 
 acquainted with Isaac Van Wart, David Williams and 
 John Paulding, and that at no time during the revolution- 
 ary war was any suspicion entertained by their neighbors 
 or acquaintances that they or either of them held any un- 
 due intercourse with the enemy. On the contrary, they 
 were universally esteemed, and taken to be ardent and 
 
30 
 
 faithful ill the cause of the couiiti'v." Van Wart and 
 Pauldinii", in solemn affidavits, reasserted the details of the 
 capture nnd the motives of their conduct. As eacli of 
 them, in ripe old a<i"e and the fullness of years, was called 
 to I'ender his account to the Great Judo:e, mourning 
 thousands gathered about the graves to testify theii' rever- 
 ence ; and the respect and gratitude of their countiymen 
 reared monuments to their memories. 
 
 The [)opulati()n, prosperity, wealth and luxury which sur- 
 round us here have grown upon the devastated fields of a 
 century ago. 
 
 We rededicate this cenotaj^h in honor of those whose 
 virtues made possible this i-esult. The peace, civilization, 
 liberty and hap[)iness we enjoy at home, the power which 
 commands for us i-espect abroad, lie in the strength and 
 perpetuity of our Repu))lican institutions. Had they been 
 lost by battle or ti-eason in the revolutionary sti-uggle, or 
 sunlv in the l)lo()dy chasm of civil war, the grand national- 
 ity of to-day would hav^e been dependent provinces, oi- 
 warring and burdened States. Arnold and Andre, Paul- 
 ding, AVilliams nnd Van Wart are characters in a drama 
 whicli crystalizes an eternal principle, that these institu- 
 tions rest upon the integi'ity and ])atriotism of the common 
 people. We are not here to celebrate marches, sieges and 
 battles. The trumj>et, the charge, the waving plume, the 
 flying enemy, the hero's death, are not oui* inspiration. The 
 light which made clear to these men the pi'iceless value of 
 
31 
 
 country and liberty was but the crlimmering dawn, com- 
 pared with the noonday glory of the full-orbed radiance 
 in which we stand. 
 
 As a hundred years has ripened tlie fame and enriched 
 tlie merit of their deed, so will it be rehearsed witli 
 increasing gratitude by each succeeding century. 
 
 This modest shaft marks the memorable spot where 
 they withstood temptation and saved the State, but their 
 monument is the Republic — its inscription upon the hearts 
 of its teeming and happy millions. 
 
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