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N ORATION

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I Pronounced before the

YOUNG MEN OF WESTCHESTER COUNTY,

1^1^

COMPLETION OF A MONUMENT,

Erected by tliem to the

CAPTORS OF MAJOR ANDRE,

AT TARRYTOWN, 0(]T. 7, 1853.

BY HENRY J. RAYMOND.

AN ORATION

Pronounced before the

YOUNG MEN OF WESTCHESTER COUNTY,

COMPLETION OF A MONUMENT,
Erected by them to the
CAPTORS OF MAJOR ANDRE,
AT TARRYTOWN, OCT. 7, 1853.

BY HENRY J. '^RAYMOND

NEW- YORK :
SAMUEL T. CALLAHAN, PRINTER, No. 113 NASSAU STREET.
1853.

ORATION.

As I happened, a few weeks since, to be wandering
through the long drawn aisles and beneath the fretted
vaults of Westminster Abbey, — that venerable pile which
enshrines the ashes, and consecrates the fame, of England's
illustrious and immortal dead, — mj eye fell upon a monu
ment, conspicuous by its position, and proclaiming itself
" Sacred to the memory of Major John Andre ; who, rais
ed by his merit," (thus the record runs,) " at an early pe
riod 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," at the early age of twenty-nine.
Placed thus high upon the list of England's bravest and
noblest men, by the immediate act of her monarch, the
name of Andre is handed down to immortality. He
earned that great distinction, for which greater men have
toiled through long hves, and performed deeds which have
filled the world with admiration, and stamped their im
press upon the whole current of the nation's life, by the
single endeavor to give shape and success to the only act
of treachery which stains the annals of the Revolution, —
to purchase the infamous betrayal of that holy cause
which British power had proved unable to conquer, in an

open and a manly fight. The inscription upon his monu
ment justly characterises the enterprise as "important"
to his King, and "hazardous" to himself. But its per
sonal hazards fell infinitely below its public importance —
Andre entered upon the service doubly armed against its
secret perils, first by his character as a British officer,
which would shield him, on the neutral ground, frOm the
hostility of adherents to the British camp, and second,
by a pass from a General high in the American service,
whose bravery had given him fame, whose fidelity was
unstained by suspicion, and whose rank would have se
cured, for any one bearing his commands, free passage
through I he American camp, and prompt access to the fa
vor and friendliness of every lover of the American cause.
Of danger, then, there could be but little, except what
might arise from hi@ own imprudence or lack of self-
possession. But the results £)f the enterprise, if it should
prove successful, promised to be of the most brilliant and
decisive character. We, whose judgment concerning the
events of that dark period of our history, is illuminated by
the half century that has succeeded, cannot doubt that In
dependence of Great Britain was the destiny, not then
manifest, of these United States. But human vision then
could foresee as certain no such issue. The war had
been waged with varying success for a series of years ; —
the hearts of the most hopeful were beginning to faint ; 
Congress, deserted by the strong men whose courage and
wisdom had for a time breathed deliberate valor and stead
fast purpose into its counsels, seemed to be halting in the
great endeavor; — reverses had overtaken the American
army in the Southern States ; — the British power of twen
ty thousand well appointed troops held New-York, and
desired, above all things, first, free communication with

its army in Canada: — second, to obstruct intercourse be
tween the American forces in New-England and those in
New-Jersey : — and, third, to gain possession of those
large stores, provisions and munitions of war, which the
Americans had collected, and without which all further
resistance against the British must apparently cease-
All these ends would be attained by possession of the
Hudson River, — guarded solely by the cannon that brist
led upon Fort Putnam, and the brave hearts who, under
Arnold's orders, manned the fortress perched upon the
West Point hills. To wrest that fortress from American
hands by superior valor, or by superior power, the British
troops had proved unequal. And Andre was commission
ed to buy with gold, what steel could not conquer : to
drive a bargain with one ready for a price to become a
traitor ;— to count out the thirty pieces of silver by which
British Generals and British gentlemen were not ashamed
to purchase the betrayal of a cause, whose shining virtue
repelled their power and dimmed the glory of their arms.
" I would, ancestral England, men might seek
All crimson stains upon thy breast — not cheek !"
Far be it from me to cast reproach upon the personal
character of Major Andre, or to seek to turn back the tide
of sentimental pity and admiration which bears his memo
ry to succeeding times. But, in spite of all this — in spite,
too, of the laws and practices of war, which have been
justly styled the " satire of human nature," and which are
often made to cloak the basest and the meanest deeds —
the errand on which Andre was sent, in the light of mo
rality, and even of that chivalry from which modern war
pretends to derive its maxims and its rules, was one of in
famy. And as I stood, on that summer day, in that sacred
mausoleum of England's mighty dead, before the sarco-

phagus which holds his ashes, and mused upon the act or
our great drama in which his part in life had been per
formed, and upon the excess of justice and of fame by
which his country has repaid the doubtful service he
sought to perform on her behalf, — my thoughts reverted to
that sweet spot beyond the sea, on which we stand to-day,
hallowed by having been the scene of his defeat ; — ^to yon
der gentle brook which, guarded by patriotic souls, proved
to be the Rubicon he could not cross ; — and to the three plain
men beneath whose rustic garb beat hearts whose fidelity
gold could not corrupt, and to whose noble conduct, un
der severe temptation, Washington, the army, our coun
try and the world owe their escape, from the consumma
tion of one of the foule.st schemes of treachery that ever
blazoned the baseness of the human heart.
Young Men of Westchester! you have done well to erect
this monument, upon a spot so sanctified, in everlasting
remembrance of a deed so transcendent in its relations to
the freedom of America and of the world. It is among
the most pious of the offices of patriotism to perpetuate, by
such memorials, the excellence and the dignity of noble
acts. Oblivion strenuously struggles for the possession of
all things earthly ; and it needs all the aid of letters and
of stone — of commemorative festival and of recorded his
tory — to scare away the forgetfulness which settles upon
good deeds and upon the memories of worthy men. It
is only a few, at the best, out of the renowned nations
of the dead, whose names and characters are thus handed
down to the knowledge and regard of the living that come
after. Of that great multitude of noble hearts which up
held the country during our long and strenuous Revolution,
— of all those thousands who aided, in the field, in coun
cil, at the hearth, by action or by endurance no less

heroic, with blows, with words, with blood, with tears,
in the consummation of that great result, how small is the
number whose names have been engraven on any stone,
or printed on any page, or preserved in any way among
the hallowed recollections of that heroic time. In oblivion
and the grave they rest from their labors, and their works
do follow them. It is only here and there that affectionate
veneration, or a patriotic impulse, snatches one and an
other from the dreary realms of forgetful night, gives thein
to subsist in lasting monuments, and secures them from
oblivion "in preservations below the moon." Fortunate
in this, as in the felicity of their useful lives, are the three
men whose memory your pious labors will perpetuate ;
and fortunate in a higher sense is the country which is to
have the undying benefit of their example, thus handed
down to the admiration and the emulation of all coming
time. To them, indeed, it matters little whether their
names shall be heard ever again among men, — whether
their bodies shall commingle with the dust, or be scattered
by the mourning winds which sweep their native soil :
Tabesne oadarera solvat
An rogns, baud refert.
But to their country, and to us their countrymen, inherit
ors of the rich blessings they did so much to secure, and
to the generations yet to come to whom in turn they must
be transmitted, undefiled, by us, — it is not so. For our
use and our country's, this monument has risen beneath
your haiids. To us and to our children, are its words ad
dressed. And they are words at once of the past and for
the future — words of remembrance and of hope, — words
of gratitude to God evermore for his protection, and of
trust evermore in his guidance and support.
How is it possible, Mr. President and Fellow Citizens,

that we should be gathered here, on such a day, and for
such a purpose, — amidst such environments, and with such
attendance, — of the cherished survivors of our second war
of independence, of the honored Governor of our State, of
this large and imposing array of her organized and officered
military power, of the beauty and the strength, the grace
and the worth, of this large, fertile, and influential district,
every rood of which teems with memories of the Revolu-
tipn-r-without remanding our thoughts to the incidents of
that act — that most strange and eventful act — ^in our grand
historic drama, which is directly the occasion of our com
ing together !
The eye, from where we stand, can almost take in the
whole scene on which it was enacted. The same outward
world surrounds us, — ^the same great objects, in the heavens
above and on the earth beneath, changed only in such in
cidental features as the progress of civilization and of cul
ture brings with it, meet our vision, which silently watched
the steps of the actors in its successive stages. The lordly
Hud.son still: rolls its waters to the mighty sea, — as when
that lone ship, rightly named the Vulture, rode its unsus
pecting breast, to do its work of treacherous and unkingly
wrong. The same heavens bend over us, — the same green
hills encircle us, — the same bright sun and moon which
gave light to them for their work, enUghten us for ours ;
and that same steadfast northern star, which, if his soul had
been susceptible of such emotions, might have shamed, by
its fixed fidelity, the dark purpose of Arnold's traitor
heart, as it watched him all that long night of conference
with his confederate and tempter, Andre, beneath the
cliff, still Unassailable, holds on hie rank,
Usshak'd of motion.

We stand upon the very spot where the dark plot was ar
rested, — where the uplifted arm, just raised to strike a
fatal and perfidious stab at the liberties of our land, was
seized, — where Andre, just upon the verge of safety,
within a step, as it were, of his own encampment, laden
with the keys of the fortress of American freedom, — by in-
caution — fruit of his foreseen and almost grasped security
— ^betrayed himself to three incorruptible American hearts,
and was by them returned to the American camp, whose
honor he had so assailed. And yonder rise the hills, upon
which, with unfaltering step and steadfast heart, he met
his fate ; where, amidst the sobs and tears of the very men
whose betrayal and destruction he; had sought to compass,
attended by every observance of respect, and every de-
monstra,tion of kindness which true nobility of heart could
prompt, at the hands of his enemies, he gave up the life,
which, not alone by the laws of war, but by the stern re
quisitions of essential justice, for the interests of the coun
try and the cause of freedom, had been rendered forfeit.
I should trespass needlessly upon your patience, were I
to consume any of the time devoted to these exercises, in
a historical detail of the events connected with the treason
of Arnold, or the arrest, trial, and execution of Andre.
You have grown up in a familiarity with these events to
which I cannot pretend. They form so large a part of the
local history of this vicinity — they have entered so deeply
and so imperishably into the records of the, whole country
— and they were so eloquently rehearsed in your hearing
when the corner-stone of this memorial was laid, upon the
last anniversary of the nation's birth, that I lack all pretext
for dweUing upon them now. I propose, therefore, nothing
more than such brief reference as the time remaining will
permit, to one or two points in connection with them,
2

10 i*
whiich, from their importance, or from the differences oi
opinion to which they have given rise, seem most worthy
of notice on such an occasion as this.
I have already spoken of the profound pity which was
felt for Andre, attiong those for whose heart-strings and
innermost life he had been feeling with treacherous and
poisoned weapon, — and of the tide of sympathy, nowhere
deeper or stronger in its current than among the American
people, which is bearing his memory, as that of an honored
and a martyred hero, to succeeding times. Something of
this is due to the kindly regard which misfortune always
awakens in manly natures ; more, I venture to suspect, to
the romantic incidents in which his character and adven
ture have been clothed, and to the personal qualities, ac
complishments, and experiences in life connected with his
name. He was young, ambitious, accomplished, brave
and unfortunate. He had entered the army to escape, in
the tumult and excitement of war, painful memories of a
lady whom he loved, but who had married his rival. He
was handsome, fond of letters, music, -and the arts — ^frank
and manly in his bearing, and zealous for personal distinc
tion in the service of his king. And underneath all this —
amid the cares, the labors, the perils of war, through all
the stir and anxiety of his outward life — lived ever the
memory of his early love ; when taken prisoner at St.
John's, on the outlet to Lake Champlain, by the Ameri
cans, under Montgomery, he saved the picture of his lost
HoNORA, and deemed that " compensation enough for all
his sorrows ;" and after he had stepped off the brink of
that deep descent, from which for him there was no return
— during his detention in the American camp awaiting his
trial — after even his sentence, waiting only for the sum
mons to meet the last and worst extreme of fete, remem-

n
brance of his early sorrow soothed his soul; filled his heart
with the resignation of a subdued and chastened courage ;
led him to seek relief in cheerful conversation, in kindly
thought for others, in exercise of the art he had come to
love ; and prompted a quick, but not importunate concern
for the manner of his death, and the tradition thereof which
might go down to the knowledge and the judginent of pos
terity. When have such qualities, such experiences, such
misfortunes — consecrated by sudden death — ever failed to
stir gentle hearts, beating in the breast of man or woman,
to pity and regretful love ? Nor is there any reason why
such sentiments should lack indulgence, unless they come
in conflict with justice, or pronipt to undeserved censure of
others, or to a disregard of that higher love of country,
which should ever overbear all personal and all sentimen
tal considerations. I venture to think that commiseration
for the fate of Andre, both in his land and in our own, has
led to such injustice: — that it has stimulated on the one
side, and, on the other, secured toleration for, base slanders
upon the heroic and deserving dead ; — and that due regard
for the patriotic act of the noble Three, whose monument
this day rises to record their worth, as well as for the un-
stainable whiteness that hangs imperishably over the name
of Washington, demands, if not its abatement, at least,
some more accurate definition of the limits within which it
should be indulged.
And in this connection it is not easy to forget the con
trast presented in the opposing armies, under circumstan
ces essentially the same. From the moment of Andre's
arrest he was treated with unvarying kindness and consid
eration. No restraint, not essential to the security of his
person, was for a moment imposed ; not a harsh or unfeel
ing expression, from oflUcer, soldier or citizen, ever grated

12
on his ekrs or chilled the youthful current of his heart ;
books, paper and ink were at his command: he wrote
freely even to the- British Commander-in-Chief ; — messa
ges of kindness' a,nd rfeUcs of remembrance to his friends
were promptly sent forward ; — and a sad solemnity, full
of tenderness and' of pity, presided at his execution. —
From all that vast multitude, assembled on yonder heights
to see him die, arose no word of exultation ; no breath of
taunt or triumph broke the sereneness of the surrounding
air ; melancholy music gave voice to mfelancholy thoughts ;
tears dimmed the eyes 'and wet the cheeks of the peasant
soldiers by whom he was surrounded ; and so profound
was the impress of the scene upon their patriot hearts, that
loiig succession of years could not wear it out, nor seal
the fountains of sorrow it had unclosed.* At an earlier
stage of the Revolution, Nathan Hale, Captain in the
American army, which he had entered, abandoning bril
liant prospects of professional distinction, for the sole pur
pose of deferiding the liberties of his country, — gifted,
educated, ambitious, — the equal of Andre in talent, in
worth, in amiable manners, and in every manly quality,
and his superior in that final test of character, — the mo-
* 1 have heard an anecdote from my friend, Dr. Horace Green, of
New- York, which illustrates the profound impression which Andre's ex
ecution made upon the American soldiers who took part in it. In his
youth, an old man lived in the town of Rutland, Vt., who had been one of
the guard which attended Andre to the scaffold, and whose age he used
frequently to solace by playing for him upon the flute. The old man
would always insist on his playing a simple and melancholy air, popu
larly know;n as the Blue Bird, which was among the music played as a
death-march during the execution ; and streaming tears and choking
sobs always attested the power of the sad remembrances which it awai-
ened in his mind.

13
tives by which his acts were prompted and his life was
guided, — laid aside every consideration personal to him
self, and entered upon a service of infinite hazard to life
and honor, because Washington deemed it important to
that sacred cause to which both had been sacredly set
apart. Like Andre he was found in the hostile camp ;
like him, though without a trial, he was adjudged a spy :
— and like him he was condemned to death. And here
the likeness ends. No consoling word, — no pitying or re
spectful look, cheered the dark hour of his doom. He was
met with insult at every turn. The sacred consolations of
the minister of God were denied him ; his Bible was taken
from him ; with an excess of barbarity hard to be parallel
ed in civilized war, his dying letters of farewell to his
mother and sister were destroyed in his presence ; and
uncheered by sympathy, mocked by brutal power, and at
tended only by that sense of duty, incorruptible, undefil
ed, which had ruled his life, — finding its fit farewell in the
serene and sublime regret that he " had but one life to lose
for his country," — he went forth to meet the great dark
ness of an ignominious death. The loving hearts of his
early companions have erected a neat monument to his
memory in his native town ; — but beyond that little circle,
where stands his name recorded ? While the Majesty of
England, in the person of her Sovereign, sent an embassy
across the sea to solicit the remains of Andre at the hands
of his foes, that they might be enshrined in that sepulchre
where she garners the relics of her mighty and renowned
sons, — " splendid in their ashes and pompous in the
grave " — ^the children of Washington have left the body
of Hale to sleep in their unknown tomb, though it be on
his native soil, — unhonored by any outward observance,
unmarked by memorial stone. Monody, eulogy, — monu-

14
ments of marble and of braSs, and of letters more enduring
than all, — have, in his own land and in ours, given the
name and the fate of Andre to the sorrowing remem
brance of all time to come. American genius has celebra
ted his praises, — ^has sung of his virtues and exalted to
heroic heights his prayer, manly but personal to himself,
for choice in the manner of his death, and his dying chal
lenge to all men to witness the courage with which he met
his fate. But where, save on the cold page of history,
stands the record for Hale ? Where is the hymn that
speaks to immortality, and tells of the added brightness
and enhanced glory, when his equal soul joined its noble
host ? And where sleeps the Americanism of Americans,
— that their hearts are not stirred to solemn rapture at
thought of the sublime love of country which buoyed him
not alone, ' above the fear of death,' but far beyond all
thought of himself, of his fate and his fame, or of anything
less than his country, — and which shaped his dying breath
into the sacred sentence which trembled at the last upon
his unquivering lip ?
It would not, perhaps, befit the proprieties of this occa
sion were I to push the inquiry, into the causes of so great
a difference in the treatment which Andre received at the
hands of his American captors, whose destruction he had
come, not to conquer, but to betray, — and that whioh the
British bestowied upon Nathan Hale. Much of it was,
doubtless, due to the difference in the composition of the
opposing armies, — the one of hirelings in the service of
power, seeking the conquest of freemen, — the other of
freemen defending their liberties, and keenly alive to the
sensibilities and affections-r-the love of home, of brethren,
of fellow men— which alone sustained them in the unequal
strife. I have introduced it now, not for the sake of com-

15
plaint, nor even for the worthier purpose of challenging, as
unpatriotic and un-American, the habit of allowing all our
sympathy and- all our tears to be engrossed by an accom
plished and unhappy foe, — who failed in a service of
doubtful morality, undertaken for the sake of promotion
and of personal glory ; — in oblivion of what is due to one
of a nobler stamp, — our own countryman, who knew no
object of love but his and our country; — who judged "ev
ery kind of service honorable, which was necessary to the
public good ;" and who, by genius, by character, by pat
riotic devotion and by misfortune, has paramount claims
upon the love and cherishing remembrance of American
hearts. For this injustice partakes but too much of the
common lot. " The iniquity of oblivion," saith. Sir Tho
mas Browne, "blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals
with the memory of men without distinction to merit of
perpetuity. Who knows whether the best of men be
known, or whether there be not more remarkable persons
forgot, than any that stand remembered in the known ac
count of time? " But in one or two pojnts, this sympathy
for Andre, in its excess, has occasioned gross injustice to
character and interests, which it is the duty of Americans
to cherish and defend.
The King of England, in the first dispatch to Sir Henry
Clinton, after the details of Andre's adventure had been
received, lent his sanction to the opinion that he had been
" unjustly " put to death ; and that " the public never
could be compensated for the vast advantages which must
have followed from the success of his plan." British his
torians have carefully echoed the royal sentiment, though
they have shrunk from the eulogies by which His Majesty
saw fit to welcome and caress the traitor. And the Brit
ish muse, by the lips of a female poet, in lines breathing

16
more of malignity than of inspiration, after branding
Washington for sanctioning the execution, as the " cool.
determined murderer of the brave," ventured a prophecy,
which Time has signally failed to fulfil, that
Infamy with livid hand should shed
Eternal mildew on his ruthless head.*
Such sentiments, whatever thejr justice, would not come
with grace from the brutal executioners of Nathan Hale.
They have long since perished from the general memory ; —
*The reference here is to a Monody on Major Andre by Miss
Anna Seward, dedicated to Sir Henry Clinton, and published soon
after the execution. Curiosity may be gratified by the follovring passage
from the poem, in which Washington is mentioned in an unusual strain :
" Oh Washington ! I thought thee great and good,
Nor knew thy NtRo-thirst of guiltless blood !
Severe to use the power that Fortune gave,
Thou cool determined Murderer of the Brave !
*****
Remorseless Washington ! the day shall come
Of deep repentance for this barbarous doom !
When injur'd Andre's mempry shall inspire
A kindling army with resistless fire ;
Each falchion sharpen that the Britons vrield.
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 untouched the sacred life you stole !
And when thy heart appalled and vanquished pride
Shall vainly ask the mercy they deny'd.
With horror shalt thou meet the fate they gave,
Nor Pity gild the darkness of thy grave !
For Infamy, with livid hand shall shed
Eternal mildew on thy ruthless head."

17
and' yet there lingers, in here and there a mind, a feeling,
that the execution of Andre was needless and therefore
cruel; — that his release would have wrought no injury to
the American cause ; and that, at all events, his earnest
wish for a soldier's rather than a felon's death, might pro
perly have been indulged.
I am persuaded that those in whose minds such suspi
cions find a lodgment, underrate the character of Wash
ington, and have not taken due pains to make real to their
apprehensions the circumstances by which he was sur
rounded. The whole remaining strength of the Revolution
was gathered on the Hudson. Its last hope, — its sole
reliance, rested there. West Point had become the citadel
of liberty, — sole tower not yet overthrown, — around which
clustered the anxieties and the labors, the fears and the
hopes, of Him on whose right arm for years the American
cause had securely reposed. Suddenly, — without note or
warning, — more sudden far than any meteor flash upon the
brow of night, and more startling than any crashing thun
derbolt from the sunlit sky, — was disclosed a mine which
months of treason had prepared, and which another in
stant, — another step of the detected agent in its construc
tion, would have exploded with final ruin to the sacred
cause. A General, high in command, renowned for his
brilliant exploits in the field, trusted implicitly, and last of
all to be suspected of infidelity to the cause in which he had
won his honors and shed his blood, was found to have been
groping for months in that lowest deep of degradation, —
to have been haggling with the enemy for a price for his
treason, and finally to have bargained to place the Ame
rican cause for pay at the mercy of the foe. The secrecy
with which Arnold, for eighteen months before, had been
carrying on negotiations with the British General, through
3

18
Major Andre, and the consummate and accomplished hy
pocrisy by which he had secured, without suspicion, from
the hands of Washington, precisely that position which
would make his treason most fatal to the cause he pre
tended to love, and thus enhance its price, attest the as
tounding character of the alarming facts then first revealed
to the knowledge of the great Commander. On the 12th
of September— the very day <ifter that on which he had
gone down to Dobbs's Ferry for the purpose of settling, in
a conference with Andre, the terms and details of his
treason,— Arnold wrote a letter to General Greene, full
of patriotic devotion, and pervaded by a thorough zeal for
the honor and success of the American cause. That letter,
so far as I am aware, has never hitherto been published.
I am indebted for it to my esteemed friend. Prof. Greene,
a direct descendant of the illustrious officer to whom it
was addressed. As it throws still stronger fight upon the
character of Arnold, — places in still bolder relief the un
matched and unmatchable audacity of that hypocrisy in
which he fived and moved and had his being, — perhaps
you will permit me to read it, from the original manuscript,
which I hold in my hand. It bears date :
Head Qdarters, Robinson House, )
September \2th, 1780. ]
Dear Sir : — Your favor of the 7th, conveying to me an account of our
misfortunes to the southward, was delivered me on the 8th.
I am happy to find that General Gates' information vas so ill-founded.
It is an unfortunate piece of business to that Hero, and may possibly blot
his escutcheon with indelible infamy. It may not be right to censure
character at a distance, but I cannot avoid remarking that his conduct
on'this occasion has in no wise disappointed my expectations, or predic
tions on frequent occasions; and notwithstanding the suggestions of his
friends, that he had not retreated to the border of Virginia, he must have
been at a great distance and fully secure from danger, as he had no ad
vices of the retreat of the Maryland troops for at least 'four days.

19
Yours of the 8th, by Capt. Van der Horst and Lieut. McCall, were
delivered me by those gentlemen on the 9th. I have endeavored to render
their situation pleasing to them, during their short stay with me ; which
respect I shall always be happy to pay to any gentleman who entitles
himself toyour introduction and recommendation.
It is a matter much to be lamented that our Army is permitted to
starve in a land of plenty. There is a fadlt somewhere; it ought to be
traced up to its authors, and if it was prepense, they ought to be capitally
punished ; that is, in my opinion, the only means left to procure a regular
supply to the Army in future.
Where shall I procure paper for the garrison as well as for my office T
No returns can be made till a supply is sent. Col. Pickering, in a letter
of the 28th, informs me, that he has not yet received the stores in his
hands or money to purchase any with.
With sentiments of the most sincere regard and affection, I am, dear Sir,
Your obedient and humble servant,
Major-General Greene. B. ARNOLD.
Consider that this epistle, — burning with indignation at
the apparent misconduct of Gates, cordial in the extreme
in its personal courtesy towards General Greene, solici
tous for the comfort of the army, resentful towards those
wh^se misconduct had involved it in want, was written the
day after his first attempt to hold a personal interview with
Major Andre, — upon his return to head quarters from the
scene he had appointed for it, and in the midst of such
thoughts as such incidents would naturally engender; —
think upon the impenetrable hypocrisy of the man who,
on the instant of returning baffled fi'om such an errand,
could coolly speak or dream of any escutcheon but his own
being "blotted with indelible infamy;" — and you can
judge how secure must have been his hold upon the confi
dence of Washington, and how thick was the dark doubt
of all honor and all faith, into which the apprehensive fears
of that great leader must have plunged his mind, when the
fact of Arnold's treason first broke upon his sight.
" Whom can we trust now?" were the simple words he ad-

dressed to La Fayette ; but they imply a dread distrust;—
they signalize the beginning of a gloomy despair ;— they
point to the fact which imposed on him the supreme duty,
from which there was no escape, of crushing by allthe
terrors of martial law, whatever of vitality might still sur
vive, in either army, of the portentous plot.
By the clearest facts and the plainest law. Major AndrE
was proved to be a spy. The sophistries by which such a
conviction was for a time, resisted, vanished before the
sound sense of his distinguished judges — were scattered to
the winds even by his own confessions. That he was more
than this, — that he was a tempter as well as a spy, — that
his errand was to corrupt as well as to explore, — that in
his possession were found the purchased honor of an Amer
ican general, the sealed compact for the betrayal of the
American cause, as well as unlawful knowledge of the
position of their troops, was, in the eye of justice as well
as of safety, only an infinite aggravation of his offence.
That he had been invited by Arnold to the interview and
the bargain, — that he only met advances made, and merely
aided in ripening treason, jof. which the seeds had been
sown by others, or had sprung spontaneously in congenial
soil, could not diminish in the least either the criminality
or the audacity of the endeavor, while it augmented vastly
its danger to the American cause. Extraordinary pains
had been taken by the British to create the belief in the
American camp, that other American officers, equally trusted
with Arnold, shared his sentiments and would, on proper
occasion, imitate his example. The sad inquiry, "Whom
can we trust now?" proves that the very ripeness which,
without arousing suspicion, the great plot had reached —
the boldness with which Andre had gone forward in ar
ranging the details of its consummation, had excited in the

SI
mind of Washington the apprehension that this might be
so — and produced the conviction that all embers of the
conspiracy must be relentlessly trodden out by the iron
heel of martial law. Was this a time for any shrinking
from duty, which should encourage another British officer
to attempt to gather up the threads of the broken web, and
to complete the plot which Andre's capture had disarm
ranged? What single reason, then, for clemency existed?
What solitary fact, in any aspect of the case, would have
excused Washington for softening, by a single shade, the
dread sentence of the law which Andre had braved ?
Shall it be said that his youth, his accomplishments, his
amiable character, his intellectual and professional pro
mise, should have saved his fife? What would that be, but
to promise impunity, in proportion to the supreme fitness
of the emissary for his delicate and important work ?
Such pleas, and the anxifety to find them, are honorable to
the softer instincts of our nature : — but they consort not with
the stern, unbending sense of duty which alone can lead a
revolution, or conduct a great nation, through difficult and
perilous paths, to independence and re now n. The holiest
cause may be ruined under the holiest of sensibilities.
The Hungarian people perished under that softness of
heart which spared treason, in sparing life. Washington,
fortunately for us, knew no pity that stood in the path of
duty; and calmly put aside every sympathy and every
sensibility, that tempted him to forgetfulness of his coun
try's weal.
I have said that the ripeness of the extended plot which
the capture of Andre revealed, — the boldness with which
he had gone forward in its preparation, — the excess of con
fidence, leading to the momentary loss of self-possession,
which alone at the last betrayed his real character, — com-

22
bined to deepen and to strengthen a wide distrust in Amer
ican fidelity, all the more terrible because of its vagueness^
and calling therefore for all the terrors of martial law..
History presents few instances of so great a scheme, cov
ering, so large a space, involving such vast results, requiring
secresy so profound and at the same time specification so
precise, — carried so triumphantly to the very edge of suc
cess, — and then defeated, at the last moment, by the slight
est of all possible causes, and the very one least to have
been expected. Andre had been corresponding with Ar
nold for more than a year upon the subject of the medi
tated treason. That, during all that time, no letter should
have miscarried, — rthat nothing should have been said or
done to excite suspicion ; that Arnold should have ob
tained from Washington by earnest solicitation, against
his original purpose and in direct contradiction to the
whole tenor of Arnold's active and brilliant life, command
of a garrison condemned to inactivity, when his services were
needed and at first appointed in the field, without awaken
ing in the sagacious miiid of the great commander the least
distrust of his motive ; — that Arnold and Andre should
have succeeded in appointing a meeting for the 11th of
September at Dobbs' Ferry, and that, too, by the most open
means, through a third party, and he an American officer ;
that both should have gone in open day to the place ap
pointed, under observation of both armies, their actjial
meeting being prevented by accident, — Washington him
self being immediately apprised by Arnold of the visit
he had made to a suspicious point ; — that the whole plot
should have been rearranged, a new meeting agreed upon
and actually held by night, and all the details of the trea
son, including its price, finally fixed and the precise time
and mode of its accomplishment settled between them : —

23
that Andre should have remained within the enemy's
fines, with the knowledge of .several adherents of that
enemy's cause, for a day and a night without detec
tion: — that he should afterwards have openly crossed
the ferry; met and conversed with various persons ; escaped
the vigilance of Col. Livingston; satisfied the uneasy
scruples of the watchful Capt. Boyd ; passed a night in his
immediate neighborhood; — and then' rode on horseback
through neariy the whole of that district, the neutral ground,
so full of peril, without interruption, and reached safely
the very border of the British eamp;_that the great con
spiracy should have thus been carried to the very verge of
completion and of execulion, without coming to the knowl
edge, or even exciting the slightest suspicion in the breast,
of Washington, or any of his associates, is among the most
marvelous of the incidents of this strange history. And
yet the very completeness of its success thus far, begat
that excessive confidence in the mind of Andre, to which
his capture and the defeat of his plot were due. And this
brings us to the specific act, which this monument you have
built is designed to commemorate.
When Andre, you will remember, reached the foot
of yonder hill, he was met, stopped, and his char
acter and business challenged by the three Americans,
Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart, whose names
have come to be associated imperishably with their coun
try's glory. He had in his possession, couched in the
clearest and most explicit terms, a pass^from General Ar
nold. That pass had been closely scrutinized by Captain
BoyD, and had satisfied his scruples. It was quite certain
that it would prove equally potent with any other adher
ent of the American cause. If Andre, then, had answered
the challenge of his unknown captors by producing this

24
pass, his safety would have been secured :— for if they
were Americans, the pass would command their obedience :
—if they should prove to be British, they would take him
at once to the British camp, which it was the sole desire
of his heart to reach. In either event, this plain and ob
vious course would have evaded every chance of danger.
Why, then, did he not take it? What fatality— call it
providence, rather,— led him to give the only answer
which would inevitably lead to his destruction? The
very confidence which his previous success — ^liis near ap
proach to the place of safety, had engendered, wrought
his undoing. His first words savored of exultation, and
committed him beyond all possibifity of retraction. " I
hope," said he, "that you belong to our party;" " What
party is that," was the prompt inquiry; and even this did
not reveal to him the perils among which he was so rashly
pushing. He answered by avowing himself a British offi
cer, out of the country on particular business, and by urg
ing the necessity of his immediate departure.* In an instant
* Capt. Hiram Paulding, son of John Paulding one of Andre's
captors, now a gallant and accomplished officer in the U. S. Navy, has
related to me, since the delivery of this address, an incident curious in
itself and of some historic interest, as affording some explanation of An
dre's extraordinary imprudence in assuming his captors to be adherents
of the British cause. He states that his father himself ascribed it to the
fact that, at the time, he wore the British military coat, — which arose
from a singular circumstance. Five or six days before the capture of
Andre, Paulding had been by a British foraging party, and taken to
New- York, where he Was confined in the old Dutch Church. Wearing at
the time a very good coat, one of the British soldiers present, a refugee,
compelled him to exchange with him. Towards night Paulding told
one of his comrades that he did not mean to stay there until a high wall,
then in process of erection, should be completed, because if he did he

2^
the abyss pvpi?,-syhich he hupg was reiifealed to his sight,—
but it was too ,Jate to ^ithjiraw, from its brink. He had
then to encounter the stern patriotism of the men whorn he
had so thoughtlessly misjudged, and whose fidelity he now
tried to ovjercome. But hp soon found, tjie hopelessness of
the, task. He, no .longer, had, j to deal wi,th, an ambitious,
selfish, mercenary pfficesr. He .fpund himself face to face
with a new type of. character ; — he metfp^r.the first time
in his life the Peasant Patriot,j^m of.America, — the con
quering, power of the Revolution, — the essential element,
then, as now and evermore, of American greatness and,
American Freedom. Naturally enough, in his ignorance
and his eagerness, he thought it could be, deceived, or
alarined, or bribed, He produced his, pass ; — he menaced
his captors with Gen. Ar.nold's, displeasure if they de-^
tained him longer ; — and he offered any sum they might
name as the price of his ransom. But he, stood ip pres
ence of a power which he little; understood. From the.
stern integrity, — the calm, courageous love of country,
which filled the hearts of the plain men into whose hands
should never get oia.t: he meant to escape that night, i He climbed the
wall and got into a narrow alley, and asked a negro weman to conceal
him. She said she would, because she was a Whig; and she accordingly
hid him until the next night, when h^ left and reached the Spuyten
Devil Creek, where another negro helped him across, and he eventually
reached the quarters of his company. With six others he then obtained
permission to go upon a scouting expedition to watch the roads for sus
picious persons, or for cattle and other provisions, passing towards the
British camp— ai service which a law of the State authorized and rewardr:
ed. When Andre came along, Paulding thus had on a British coat;
and Capt. Paulding stated it as his father's opinion that, this was the
circumstance which led Andre to suppose them -British, and to declajje^
himself, so thouglttlessly and rashly,, a British officer.
4

28
he had chaiiced to fall, his threats and his bribes rebounded
ais the glancing blow from the shining coat of mail.
This monument rises beneath your grateful hands, in
commemoration of the vit-tue and the patriotism which
proved thus equal t'o'the crisis by which they were tested,
and w^hich saved bur country from the long-meditated,
well-aimed, disastrous blow. Such acts, such characters',
deserve all the immortality which stone and brass, the'
spoken and the written praise, — the grateful remembrance
of millions through the coining eras, can confer upon them.
I perform a painful' dWy when I recall to your recollection
the attempt, already noticed, to cloud the glory of the
transcendent deed, and stain the fanie of the Three by
whom, with such infinite and acknowledged advantage to
the country and the world, it was performed.
The gradtude of Congress, acting upon the recommend
ation of Washington, and with the enduring applause ot
the whole country, bestowed upon Paulding, Williams,
and Van Wart', not only medals in honorable testimony
of their sigrial fidelity to the American cause, but inore
substantial rewards in the form of pensions for life. Not
the faintest whispet of dOubt as to the justice of this award,
or the merit of the men who redeived it, was heard at that
day, or for long years that followed after. But in 1817,-—
thirty-seven years after the occurrences, — when the pa
triotism and virtue of the captors of Andre had come to
be among the choicest and most proudly cherished of the
treasures of the country, — they were assailed in the most
direct and emphatic language, on the floor of Congress, by
Major TallmadGe, — who had been a faithful and highly
trusted officer of the Revolution, — by whose urgent remon
strance Lieutenant-Colonel Jameson was induced to fore
go his first purpose of sending And&e directly to Arnold,

2^7
.^-who commanded the escort to which the captured officer
was entrusted, attended him to the scaffold, and had fre
quent opportunities of free communication , with him. With
such and so many titles to credit. Major Tallmadge as
serted that the men v?ho had captured Andre were of th^t
class |Qf people, known as Cow-boys, who passed between
both armies, — as often in one canip as the other, — friendly
to each ^.s their interests might prompt, and without at
tachment or preference to either ; — that he had been told
by Andre that, in his opinion, their sea,rch of his person
wag for plunder, and not for evidenge of his character ; —
ttiat if he could have paid the sum demancjed by^ .^hem, he
would have been released ; — and that their only motive in
returning him to the American ca,mp was the hope of a
large reward.
A very few words, — -a brief recurrence to the slightness
of the authority adduced in support of it, and to the strength
of the evidence arrayed against it, will dismiss this slander
to the reprobation it deserves.
The charge is simply that oi selfish motives in the perform
ance of a worthy and a useful act ; and it rests exclusively,
not upon any facts, but upon the opinions of two men.
First, that of Major Tallmadge, as to the general charac
ter of the parties concerned, from which, even if correct,
their bad motives in this particular case would not be mat
ter of necessary inference ; and second, that of Major Andre,
who is represented as having declared it as his opinion,
that Uiey would have released him, if he could have se
cured to them payment, of the reward demanded.
As to the character of the men concerned. Major Tall
madge did not state a single fact in support of his opinion
that they were " as often in one camp as the other," and
that "their only object was to pillage frpnabpth." Serious

&8
as it is, the allegation stands simply as his opimiyn, unsup
ported by a single fad, and fortunately repelled by cdn-
cliisive proof. Iri the first place, immediately liponthe ap
pearance oif the sicitemeni; stxteeh inhabitants of the county
of Westchester, aged and respected men,— of whose de
scendants some may be here to-dajr, — united in declariA^
that during the Itevolutionary War they were' well ac
quainted with Isaac Van Wart, Pavid Williams, and
John Paulding, who arrested Major Andre ; and that
"at no time during the war was any suspicion ever enter
tained by their neighbors or acquaintances that they, Pr
either of them, held'ariy undue intercourse with the enemy ;
but that, o'li^ the contrary, they were universally esteemed,
and taken to be ardent and faithful in the cause of the
country." Certainly so far as opinion goes, this testimony
of their neighbors and acquaintances, men who lived by
their side and knew their daily walk, must be held to far
outweigh tliat of an officer 'from a neighboring State, whose
station, in subordinate command, was some miles north of
their homes ; who, as far as iappeark', had never seen or
heard of any one of them ; before ; and whose judgment,
unconsciously perhaps to himself, was undoubtedly inflQ-
enced in no slight degree by sympathy for the youn^,
frank, ambitious, and unfortunate officer who, while in his
custody, had secured his cordial' friendship and love. But
in the second place, we have the declaration of Van
Wart, given in his old age under 'oaih,' denying expressly
that he had ever visited the British camp, or held any un
lawful traffic or any intercourse whatever with the ehemy,
and appealing solemnly to thait pmhiscierit Being before
whose tribunal he'wa's soon to'dppear, in declaring that
all accusations charging him therewith were utterly untrue.
And in the thiird place, in regard to Pauljding, we have

29
the known, estabfished facts, that, far from being neutral
between the two armies, he was three times taken prisoner
by the British while in the American service, — twice be
fore and once afl;er the capture of Andre, — ^the second
time only four days before that event, — escaping^ both
times and instantly in arms again ; — and that the last time,
he was wounded and lay in the New York Hospital, until
discharged on arrival of the news of peace. Certainly, in
the face of such facts as these, — in the face of Washing
ton's commendation, the grateful action of Congress and
the New York Legislature, the loud, unanimous applause
of their cotemporaries, and the unbroken testimony of
nearly forty years,^the bare opinion of Major Tallmadge,
however sincere it might have been, as it doubtless was,
should not operate for a single moment to their disparage
ment. As to the specific opinion of Major Andre, conveyed to
Major Tallmadge, and by him rashly and hastily adopt
ed, that he believed they would have released him if he
could have secured them payment of money, we have to
say first, that the British-Adjutant displayed but little of
the magnanimity for which he is so highly lauded, in thus
striving to revenge his failure by stabbing the character,
and blackening the fame of the men to whom it was due ;
— and next, that while it is not strange he should have so
believed, the opinion was quite as groundless as that which
•he had formed of their character from the beginning. He
took them to be British ; in this, he found himself mistak
en. He then believed that Arnold's pass would la.y
asleep their vigilance : — this hope also proved abortive —
He offered them money and large rewards for his release,
and believed he could thus secure it. That opinion too,
he was compelled to relinquish. What, then, more natu-

30
ral than that he ^should still cling to the faith with which
he had set Out, that their fidelity could :be overcome,— and
take refuge from his failure, in his own inability to give
them required security ? And yet this opinion, upon a
moment's thought, is seen to be quite as baseless as the
rest. He had it in his power to give security. He ofFered>
indeed, to remain in their, custody, secreted wherever they
might place him, until a messenger should go to New-
York and return with any sum of money on which as a
ransom they might agree, What better security coul^
they desire than this? What greater reward — if this was
their motive, — could they hope for from the American
camp, destitute as it was of money and provisions, even
for the immediate necessities of the troops, than the ran
som of a British officer would be sure to extort from the
British Commander-in-Chief? *
Nothing is easier — nothing, I may add, is more unjust —
than to disparage the worth and excellence of useful acts,
by throwing distrust upon the motives of the men by whom
they have been performed. There is no name so lofty
that it cannot be thus assailed — ^no character so clear that
it may not thus be stained. But if motives are to be judg
ed by facts, by attendant circumstances, and by character
— and I know no other test so decisive and so just — I can
recall none of the actoj-s in our ^Revolutionary history who
may defy the utmost scrutiny of such an inquisition, more
fearlessly or more safely than the captors of Major Andre.
Their past lives, their labors, and their sufferings, attest
their devotion to their country's cause. At the moment of
their meeting Andre, they were engaged in the perform
ance of a legalized and a useful service. Npt a fact has

* See Appendix.

31
ever been cited to disprove the averment that their search
of his personj and their conversation with him, were for
the sole purpose of deciding his character, and thus upon
the course it would be proper for them to take ; and they
returned him to the American camp, in spite of the most
tempting offers which the peril of his position could
pi-bmpt; in ignorance of the real importance of his rank and
mission; without any ground for expecting any great re
ward; and, so far as an unprejudiced judgment can decide,
from the sole motive of guarding the country and the cause
they served from the unknown peril which his presence
seemed to threaten. If the bare opinion, unsupported by
a single fact, of their chagrined and' baffled captive-^pro-
nounced, with unmanly resentment, on his way to that
scaffold, which their detection of his crime had erected for
him — is to outweigh all these considerations, and reverse
the verdict of fifty years, then, indeed, is an honorable
name among men one of the most precarious and unsub
stantial of earthly possessions.
But I am conscious of giving more notice to this matter
than it deserves. If I were in some distant land, a vindi
cation of the captors of Andre might be needed : but here
in Westchester; amid the descendants of those who knew
them well ; — in presence of this large multitude assembled
to do them honor ; — on the very spot made sacred by their
heroic and undying act ; and in shadow of the monument
you have erected to perpetuate the remembrance of it
through all coming time, I know it cannot be required : — I
only hope it may be excused.
And now. Friends and Fellow-Citizens, your work of pat
riotism and of duty has been performed. This monument
— simple, substantial, unpretending, — fit emblem of the
men it honors, stands complete. It commemorates no

32
brilfiant or renowned' exploit ; but it signalizes an honest
and a manly act, which turned the adverse tide of a nation's
struggle for independence, and produced results of vast
beneficence in that nation's history. Richly have the men
by whom it was, performed, deserved this mark of your;
patriotic and grateful recollection. Their memory will be
cherished, and the story of their virtue will be rehearsed,
when generations to come shall vainly seek to trace their
names on this crumbling stone ; for what is this great na
tion, with its large and beneficent liberty, its growing i
grandeur, its advancing power, its uncounted blessings,
and its bright example, but a mighty monument to the pa
triots who won its freedom, and laid the deep foundations
of its fame?' Loftier than the Pyramids, — grander than
the Pantheon, — holier than that sacred temple where Eng
land garners up the immortal treasures of her heart, — is
thte;mausoleum where their ashes rest: — for they repose
in the soil redeemed by their blood ; the heavens, that
smiled on their toil, in benignity bend over their grave ; —
the freedom and the happiness of the millions they blessed,
sound unceasingly their anthem of praise : And, ¦
" So sepulchred, in such pomp they lie,
, That kings for such a tomb might wish to die."

APPENDIX.

So long a time has elapsed since the documents here referred to were
originally published, that they have been very generally forgotten ; —
and as they are important to a correct judgment of the conduct and mo
tives of the captors of Andre, on which even Mr. Sparks, with less than
his usual scrupulous regard for exact justice, has thrown unmerited dis
trust, it may not be amiss to reprint them in this connection. They
were originally published in February and March 1817, immediately
after the remarks of Major Tallmadge in Congress : —
certificate of inhabitants of WESTCHESTER COUNTY.
We, the subscribers, inhabitants, of the County of Westchester, do cer
tify, that during the Revplutionary War, we were well acquainted -with
Isaac Van Wart, David Williams, and John Paulding, who arrested
Major Andre ; 9,nd that at no time during the revolutionary war, was any
suspicion entertained by their neighbors or acquaintances, that they or either
of them held any undue intei'course with the, enemy. On the contrary, they
were universally esteemed, and taken to be ardent and faithful in the cause of
the country. We further certify, that the said Paulding and Williams
are not now resident among us, but that Isaac Van Wart is a respectable
freeholder of the town of Mount Pleasant ; that we are well acquainted
with him; and we do not hesitate to declare our belief, that there is not
an individual in the county of Westchester, acquainted with Isaac Van
Wart, who would hesitate to describe him as a man whose integrity is as
unimpeachable as his veracity is undoubted. In these respects no man
in the county of Westchester is his superior.
JoHNATHAN G. ToMPKiNS, aged 31 years.
Jacob Purdy, aged 77 years.
¦ John Odell, aged 60 years.
John Boyce, aged 72 years.
J. Requa, aged 57 years. 5

34
William Paulding, aged 81 years.
John Reciua, aged 54 years.
Archer Read,, aged 64 years. „
George Comb, aged 72 years.
Gilbert Dean, aged 70 years.
Jonathan Odell, aged 87 years.
Cornelius Vantassel, aged 71 years.
Thomas Botce, aged 71 years.
Tunis Lynt, aged 71 years.
Jacobus Dyckman, aged 68 years.
William Hammond.
John Romer.

ISAAC VAN wart's AFFIDAVIT.
Isaac Van Wart, of the town of Mount Pleasant, in the County of
Westchester, being duly sworn, doth depose and say, that he is one of
the three persons who arrested Major Andre, during the American revo
lutionary war, and conducted him to the American camp. That he, this
deponent, together with David Williams and John Paulding, had secret
ed themselves at the side, of the highway, for the purpose of detecting
any persons coming from or having unlawful intercourse with the enemy,
being between the two armies ; a service not uncommon in those times.
That this deponent and his companions were armed with muskets ; and
upon seeing Major Andre approach the place where they were concealed
they rose and presented their muskets at him, and required .him to stop,
which he did. He then asked them whether they belonged to his party ;
and then they asked him which was his party ¦? to which he replied] the
lower party. Upon which they, deeming a little stratagem, under such
circumstances, not only justifiable, but necessary, gave him to under
stand that they were of his party ; upon which he joyfully declared him
self to be a British officer, and told them that he had been out upon very
particular business. Having ascertained thus much, this deponent and
his companions undeceived him as to their characters, declaring them
selves Americans, and that he must consider himself their prisoner. Up
on this, with seeming unconcern, he said he had a pass from General

3-5
Arnold, which he exhibited, and then insisted on their permitting him to
proceed. But they told him that as he had confessed himself to be a
British officer, they deemed it to be their duty to convey him to the
American-camp; and then took' him into a wood, a short distance froni
the highway, in order to guard against being surprised by parties of the
enemy, who were frequently recounoitering in that neighborhood. That
when they had him in the wood, they proceeded to search him, for the
purpose of ascertaining who, and what he was, and found inside of his
stockings and boots, next to his bare feet, papers, which satisfiad them
that he was a spy. Major Andre now showed them his gold watch, and
remarked, that it was evidence of his bning a gentleman, and also prom
ised to make them any reward they might name, if they would but per
mit him to proceed, which they refused. He then told them, that if they
doubted the fulfillment of his promise, tliey might conceal him in some
secret plaice, and keep him, there until they could send to New- York and re
ceive their reward. And this deponent expressly declares that every offer
made by Major Andre to them was promptly and resolutely refused. —
And as for himself, he solemnly declares, that he had not, and he does
most sincerely believe that Paulding and WilUams had not, any intention
of plundering their prisoner ; nor did they confer with each otiier, on even
hesitate whether they should accept his promises, but, on the contrary, they
were, in the opinion of this deponent, governed, like himself, by a deep
interest in the cause of the country, and a strong sense of duty. And
this deponent further says that he never visited the British camp, nor
does he believe or suspect that either Paulding or Williams ever did, ex
cept that Paulding was once before Andre's capture, and once after
wards, made a prisoner by the BritiA, as this deponent has been informed
and believes. Andthis deponent for himself expressly denies that he
ever held any unlawful traffic, or any intercourse whatever vrith the
enemy. And — appearing solemnly to that omniscient Being, at whose
tribunal he must soon appear — he doth expressly declare that all accusa
tions, charging him therewith, are utterly untrue.
' ISAAC VAN WART.
Sworn before me, this 28th day of January, 1817.
Jacob Radcliff, Mayor.

36
JOHN PAULDING'S AFFIDAVIT.
John Paulding, of the county of Westchester, one of the persons who
took Major Andre, being duly sworn, saith, that he was three times, dur
ing the revoluticmary war, a prisoner^ with the enemy; — the first time he
was taken at the White Plains, when under the command of Captain
Requa, and carried to New- York and confined in the Sugar House. The
second time he was taken hear Tarrytown, when under the command of
Lieutenant Peacock, and confined in the North Dutch Church, in New-
York ; thfet both these times he escaped, and the last of them only four
days before the capture of Andre; that the last time he was taken he was
wounded, and lay in the hospital in New-York, and was discharged on
the arrival of the news of peace there ; that he and his companions. Van
Wart and Williams, among other articles which they took from Major
Andre, were his watch, horse, saddle and bridle, and which they retain
ed as prize ; that they delivered over Andre, with the papers found on
him, to Col. Jaineson, who commanded on the lines ; that shortly there
after they were summoned to appear as witnesses at the head-quarters
of General Washington, at Tappan ; that they were at Tappan some
days, and examined as witnesses before the court-martial on the trial of
Smith, who brought Andre ashore from on broad the sloop of war ; that
while there, Col. William S. Smith redeemed the watch from them for
thirty guineas; which and the money received for the horse, saddle and
bridle, they divided equally among themselves and four other persons,
who belonged to their party, but when Andre was taken, were about
half a mile off,* keeping a look-out on a hill ; that Andre had no gold or
silver money with him, but only some continental bills, to the amount of
about eighty dollars ; that the medals given to him and Van Wart and
Williams, by Congress, were presented to them by General Washington,
when the army was encamped at Verplanck's Point, and that they on
the occasion dined at his table ; that Williams removed some years ago
from Westchester County to the northern part of the State, but where,
particularly, the dopon«nt does not know. And the deponent, referring
to the affidavit of Van Wart, taken on the 28th of January last,, and
which he has read, says that the same is in substance true.
JOHN PAULDING.
Sworn before me this 6th day of May, 1817.
Charles G. Van Wyck, Master in Chancery.

YALE UNIVERSITY

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