Chapter VII

Almost universal sympathy was felt and expressed for Major André. He was undoubtedly an involuntary spy. The court of inquiry which decided his fate came to their conclusions with regret; but duty, the law of nations, and the exigencies of war, compelled them to give such a verdict as they did. Washington signed his death-warrant with reluctance and with much emotion. All the American officers were moved by deep sympathy for him. Some of the younger officers--Lafayette, Hamilton, Tallmadge, and others--were enamored with him, and became attached to him. "From the few days of intimate intercourse I had with him," wrote Tallmadge, "I became so deeply attached to Major André that I could remember no instance when my affections were so fully absorbed by any man." The multitude who saw the execution were deeply moved with compassion. Dr. Thacher says the tears of thousands fell on that occasion. The event made a deep impression upon both armies. The king specially honored the memory of André by ordering a notable mural monument to be erected in Westminster Abbey, near the "Poets' Corner." A picture of this monument is seen in the engraving.[56] The memorial was executed in statuary marble, and is about seven and a half feet in height. It represents a sarcophagus with a device in low relief, and elevated upon a paneled pedestal, upon which are appropriate inscriptions.[57] On the sarcophagus is a representation of Washington and his officers in his tent at the moment when he received the report of the court of inquiry; at the same time a messenger has arrived with the letter of André to Washington asking for a soldier's death. On the right is a guard of Continental soldiers, and a tree on which André was executed. Two men are preparing the prisoner for execution, while at the foot of the tree sit Mercy and Innocence. On the top of the sarcophagus is the British lion, and the figure of Britannia, who is lamenting the fate of André. The king settled a pension upon the family of André, and, to wipe out the imputed stain produced by his death as a spy, the honor of knighthood was conferred upon his brother.

As related in the inscription on the pedestal of André's monument, given in a foot-note, Mr. Buchanan caused his remains to be disinterred and sent to England. Two small cedar-trees were growing near the grave wherein lay his remains. A portion of one of these was sent with the remains, and, at the suggestion of the consul, the duke caused a snuff-box to be made of it for the Rev. Mr. Demorest, of Tappaan, who gave Mr. Buchanan much assistance in his undertaking. It was elegant in design, was lined with gold, and was inscribed with the words:

"From his Royal Highness the Duke of York, to mark his sense of the Rev. John Demorest's liberal attention upon the occasion of the removal of the remains of the late Major André, at Tappaan, on the 10th of August, 1821."

The surviving sisters of André sent a silver cup to Mr. Demorest, with a suitable inscription; also an inkstand to the British consul.

Two monuments have been erected at different times on the spot where André was executed, each with the sole purpose of commemorating this very important event in our national history, and to mark the exact locality of its occurrence. One of these monuments was set up by James Lee,[58] a public-spirited New York merchant, nearly forty years ago. It consisted of a small bowlder, upon the upper surface of which were cut the words, "André was executed October 2, 1780." It was on the right side of a lane which ran from the highway from Tappaan village to old Tappaan, on the westerly side of a large peach-orchard, and about a mile from Washington's headquarters. I visited the spot in 1849, and made a drawing of this simple memorial-stone for my "Pictorial Field Book of the Revolution." In a foot-note of that work (vol. i, p. 772) I said, "A more elegant and durable monument should be erected on the spot."

A "more elegant and durable monument" was placed on the same spot a few years ago by another public-spirited New York merchant, Mr. Cyrus W. Field, and bears an inscription written by the late Rev. Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, the Dean of Westminster. When that eminent divine and earnest friend of our country and admirer of our free institutions was about to visit the United States in 1878, he made a list of the objects and localities which he desired to see while here. Among these was the place of André's execution.

While Dean Stanley was visiting Mr. Field at his country residence on the eastern bank of the Hudson, nearly opposite Tappaan, he with his two traveling companions and their host crossed the river, and, with one or two citizens of Tappaan, visited places of historic interest in the vicinity. They found that nothing marked the place of André's execution, and that it had even been a subject of controversy. The bowlder-monument had been removed several years before. The dean expressed his surprise and regret that no object indicated the locality of such an important historical event, when Mr. Field said he would erect a memorial-stone there at his own expense upon certain conditions. A few days afterward (October, 1878) he wrote to a citizen of Tappaan:

"I am perfectly willing to erect a monument on 'André Hill' [so named by the people in commemoration of the event which occurred there], and the dean will write an inscription, if the people who own the land will make a grant of about twenty square feet for the purpose."

So soon as it became known that Mr. Field proposed to erect a memorial-stone at Tappaan, a correspondent of a New York morning journal denounced the intention, upon the wholly erroneous assumption that it was to be a "monument in honor of Major André, the British spy." Other correspondents, equally uninformed, followed with denunciations. A storm of apparently indignant protests, or worse, ensued; and one writer, lacking courage to give his name, made a threat that, if Mr. Field should set up a memorial-stone upon the place where André was executed, "ten thousand men" were ready to pull it down and cast it into the river! These writers, many of whom concealed their real names, created considerable feeling in the public mind unfavorable to the project, and elicited a multitude of appeals to the patriotism and the prejudices of the American people, to oppose what?--a phantom!

This intemperate and unwise correspondence continued several weeks. There were calm defenders of Mr. Field's motives in proposing to erect a monument, by persons who were well informed and had a clear perception of the intent and importance of such an act. The discussion was fruitful of some good. It had the salutary effect of calling public attention to the claims of _Nathan Hale_, the notable martyr spy of the Revolution, to a memorial tribute--a public recognition of his virtues and his deeds--which had been so long deferred by our people. These claims were now earnestly advocated, not only by Mr. Field's critics, but by patriotic citizens. Considerable sums of money were offered for the laudable purpose of erecting a suitable monument in the city of New York to the memory of Hale. Several persons offered one hundred dollars each.

Before the visit of Mr. Field and the dean, Mr. Henry Whittemore, a public-spirited citizen of Tappan, and Secretary of the Rockland County Historical Society, had found four living men who were present at the disinterment of André's remains in 1821. With these men he went to "André Hill," where they identified the place of the spy's grave.[59] The requisite plot of ground was secured by Mr. Field, who was compelled to buy many surrounding acres at an exorbitant price. Then, relying upon the good sense, the intelligence, and the patriotism of the American people for a just appreciation of his motives, he proceeded to have a memorial-stone prepared.

Soon after Dean Stanley returned home he wrote the promised inscription, and, in a letter to Mr. Whittemore (January, 1879), he said:

A wreath of autumnal leaves from the Hudson I had placed on the monument in the abbey-- attracts universal admiration.

I remain,
yours gratefully,

A.P. Stanley

Dean Stanley's Autograph.]

"I have sent to Mr. Cyrus W. Field the inscription suggested. Perhaps you will kindly see that the facts are correctly stated. It is desirable that the inscription should contain neither an attack nor a defense of André, but only an expression of sympathy with him in his tragical fate, and with Washington for the difficult circumstances in which the judges were placed.

"A wreath of autumn leaves from the Hudson I had placed on the monument in the abbey attracts universal attention. I have also the silver medals of Washington's headquarters, and the old Dutch church at Tappaan.

"I remain, yours gratefully,

"_A.P. Stanley_."[60]

On the 2d of October, 1879, the ninety-ninth anniversary of the execution of André, the monument prepared by Mr. Field's order, and placed over the spot where the spy was buried, was uncovered in the presence of representatives of the Historical Societies of New York, and Rockland County, of officers of the army of the United States, of the newspaper press and other gentlemen, and a few ladies. At noon, the hour of the day when André was executed, Mr. Field directed the workmen to uncover the memorial. There was no pomp or ceremony on the occasion. Not a speech was uttered, nor a token of applause given.

From "André Hill" the company went with Mr. Whittemore to his home in Washington's headquarters and the room in which André's death-warrant was signed. While there the neglect of the memory of Nathan Hale, shown by the American people, was spoken of, when Mr. Field said:

"Gentlemen, if I may be granted permission, I will erect a monument in memory of Nathan Hale on the spot where he suffered death in the city of New York, if the place may be found."

Several years ago Mr. Field made a similar offer to the New York Historical Society.[61] More than thirty years before, he was a contributor to the fund raised to erect the modest monument in memory of Hale at South Coventry, delineated on page 26; and he was next to the largest contributor to the fund for procuring the bronze statue of a captor of André that surmounts the monument at Tarrytown, which commemorates that important event.

The memorial-stone erected at Tappaan is composed of a shaft of Quincy gray granite, standing upon a pedestal of the same material. The whole structure is about nine feet in height from the ground to the apex. It is perfectly chaste in design. There is no ornamentation. The granite is highly polished. It stands upon an elevation, about two miles from the Hudson River, and thirty yards from the boundary-line between New York and New Jersey, and overlooks a beautiful country.[62] On its west side it bears the following inscription, written by Dean Stanley:

"HERE DIED, OCTOBER 2, 1780,
MAJOR JOHN ANDRÉ, OF THE BRITISH ARMY,
WHO, ENTERING THE AMERICAN LINES
ON A SECRET MISSION TO BENEDICT ARNOLD,
FOR THE SURRENDER OF WEST POINT,
WAS TAKEN PRISONER, TRIED AND CONDEMNED AS A SPY.
HIS DEATH,
THOUGH ACCORDING TO THE STERN RULE OF WAR,
MOVED EVEN HIS ENEMIES TO PITY;
AND BOTH ARMIES MOURNED THE FATE
OF ONE SO YOUNG AND SO BRAVE.
IN 1821 HIS REMAINS WERE REMOVED TO WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
A HUNDRED YEARS AFTER THE EXECUTION
THIS STONE WAS PLACED ABOVE THE SPOT WHERE HE LAY,
BY A CITIZEN OF THE UNITED STATES, AGAINST WHICH HE FOUGHT,
NOT TO PERPETUATE THE RECORD OF STRIFE,
BUT IN TOKEN OF THOSE BETTER FEELINGS
WHICH HAVE SINCE UNITED TWO NATIONS,
ONE IN RACE, IN LANGUAGE, AND IN RELIGION,
WITH THE HOPE THAT THIS FRIENDLY UNION
WILL NEVER BE BROKEN."

On the north face:

"HE WAS MORE UNFORTUNATE THAN CRIMINAL."
"AN ACCOMPLISHED MAN AND GALLANT OFFICER."

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

The first of these two lines was quoted from a letter of Washington to Count de Rochambeau, October 10, 1780. (See Sparks's "Life and Writings of Washington," vol. vii, p. 241.) The second line is from the sentence of a letter written by Washington to Colonel John Laurens on the 13th of October. (See Sparks, vol. vii, p. 256.)

On the north face of the stone are the words:

"SUNT LACRYMÆ RERUM ET MENTEM MORTALIA TANGUNT."

The east front was left blank for another inscription.

Such, in a few sentences, is the story of the erection of the memorial-stone at Tappaan by Mr. Field. The idea was the product of spontaneous thought, elicited by a special occasion. The sole object to be attained is the laudable and patriotic one of perpetuating, by a visible record, the memory of one of the most important events in our history, at the place of its occurrence. That event has two prominent aspects, namely: the courage, patriotism, faith in the American people, and the unswerving fidelity in the discharge of a momentous trust, of our beloved Washington and his officers, in the face of most extraordinary temptations to do otherwise; and the execution as a spy of the adjutant-general of the British army, while that army, twenty thousand strong, was lying only a few miles distant, and supported by powerful ships of war.

These were the events to be commemorated by this memorial-stone, and not the name or character of any individual. It was no more a monument "in honor of Major André, the British spy," than was the monument of white marble, twenty-five feet in height, which was erected by patriotic men, in 1853, to mark the spot at Tarrytown where the spy was captured, or the naming of the rivulet near which it stands "André Brook." Surely every intelligent and right-minded American, clearly comprehending the truth of the whole matter, will award to Mr. Field the meed of praise for his generous and patriotic deed.

An attempt was made on the night of November 3, 1885, to destroy the beautiful memorial-stone at Tappaan by an explosion of dynamite. The pedestal was shattered into pieces, but the shaft was only shaken from its perpendicular position. This crime was the logical result of persistent misrepresentation of the character and intent of the memorial in some of the newspapers. Twice before, attempts had been made to destroy it; the first time by a defacement of the inscription by a misguided person who, on a dark night, battered the letters, many of them almost beyond recognition. The destroyer[63] left a small American flag hanging over the monument from a stick, supported by a pile of stones, upon the apex; also the following lines, the product, evidently, of one moved by a spirit of conscious untruthfulness, or of profound ignorance of the character of the object assailed:

"Too long hath stood the traitor's shaft,
A monument to shame,
Built up to praise the traitor's craft,
To sanctify ill fame.
Are freemen bound to still forbear,
And meekly still implore,
When conquered foes their altars rear
Within our very door.

"This vulgar and insulting stone
Would honor for all time,
Not sneaking André's death alone,
But black Ben Arnold's crime.
And they, who thus can glorify
The traitor and his deeds,
Themselves high treason would employ
If 'twould fulfill their needs.

"Americans! resolve, proclaim
That on our own dear land,
Never, while the people reign,
Shall treason's statue stand!
And he who dares erect it next,
On fair Columbia's breast,
With furtive or with false pretext,
Shall dangle from its crest!"

The second attempt to destroy the memorial-stone was made on a dark night. Nitro-glycerine or dynamite was used for the purpose. The explosion was heard for miles around. The perpetrator of the deed was not discovered. The stones of the pedestal were shattered, but the shaft remained in an upright position.

Mr. Field had the damages to the memorial repaired. He designed to have the acres around it fashioned into a handsome little park. He also proposed to erect within the grounds a fire-proof building for the use of the Rockland County Historical and Forestry Society as a depository of historical and other relics of that county, the building to be presented to the society, and the park to the citizens of Tappaan, as a free gift. The outrage of November 3, 1885, may frustrate this generous plan.

Two days after that outrage, a New York morning journal of large circulation and wide influence declared that "the malignity with which the people about Tappaan regard Mr. Field's monument to André appears to be settled and permanent." To this grave indictment of the inhabitants of a portion of Rockland County as participants in the crime, that people responded by resolutions unanimously adopted at an indignation meeting held at the Reformed Church at Tappaan on the evening of the 9th. They denounced the charge as utterly untrue, expressed their belief that no person in the vicinity had "the remotest connection" with the crime; that it was desirable to have the place of André's execution indicated by a memorial-stone with a suitable inscription, and commended Mr. Field for his zeal in perpetuating events of the Revolution in such a manner.[64]

In the foregoing narrative I have endeavored to present a brief, plain, and truthful story of the memorial at Tappaan, about which so much has been said and written. I have fashioned it from trustworthy materials. I have simply recorded the facts, and leave the readers to form their own conclusions.

The monument at Tarrytown has been alluded to. It was erected in 1853, on the spot where tradition says Major André was captured, to commemorate that event. It bore upon a tablet the following inscription:

"On this spot, the 23d of September, 1780, the spy, Major John André, Adjutant-General of the British Army, was captured by John Paulding, David Williams, and Isaac Van Wart, all natives of this county. History has told the rest.

"The people of Westchester County have erected this monument as well to commemorate a great event as to testify their high estimation of that integrity and patriotism which, rejecting every temptation, rescued the United States from most imminent peril by baffling the acts of a spy and the plots of a traitor. Dedicated October 7, 1853."

The citizens of Westchester County, desirous of giving more significance to this monument, caused its conical shaft to be removed, and in its place erected a bronze statue of a captor--a young volunteer soldier. This statue is the work of the accomplished sculptor, Mr. O'Donovan, of New York.

The monument and statue were unveiled in the presence of thousands of spectators on the centennial of the event commemorated--the 23d of September, 1880. On that occasion Samuel J. Tilden presided. A prayer was offered by the venerable son of one of the captors, Isaac Van Wart, and an oration was pronounced by Chauncey M. Depew. General James Husted was the marshal of the day.

On one face of the monument is the old inscription, and upon another, next to the highway, is a fine bronze _bas-relief_ representing the scene of the capture. This also is from the _atelier_ of Mr. O'Donovan. An excellent picture of this work of art and of the statue may be found in the "Memorial Souvenir of the Monument Association," prepared by Dr. Nathaniel C. Husted, secretary of the association.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 56: The original drawing from which the engraving was made was received from London in 1849 by the author of this little work, together with a copy of a profile likeness of André--simply the head and shoulders--said to have been drawn by himself.]

[Footnote 57: Upon a panel is the following inscription: "Sacred to the memory of Major JOHN ANDRÉ, who, raised to the rank of Adjutant-General of the British Army in America, and employed in an important and hazardous enterprise, fell a sacrifice to his zeal for his king and country, on the 2d of October, A.D. 1780, eminently beloved and esteemed by the army in which he served, and lamented even by his foes. His gracious sovereign, King George the Third, has caused this monument to be erected."

After the removal of André's remains to Westminster Abbey, as mentioned in the text, the following inscription was cut upon the base of the pedestal:

"The remains of Major JOHN ANDRÉ were, on the 10th of August, 1821, removed from Tappaan by James Buchanan, Esq., his Majesty's Consul at New York, under instructions from his Royal Highness the Duke of York, and, with the permission of the Dean and Chapter, finally deposited in a grave contiguous to this monument on the 28th of November, 1821."]

[Footnote 58: It was chiefly through the liberality and personal influence of Mr. Lee that the funds were raised for procuring the fine bronze equestrian statue of Washington, by H.K. Brown, at Union Square, New York. That was the first statue erected in the open air in that city, and is not surpassed in artistic merit by any since set up there.]

[Footnote 59: Mr. Whittemore had procured this identification fully six months before the visit of Mr. Field and his guests, with the view to have a memorial-stone placed upon the spot. He had consulted with the owner of the land about it. The latter believed it would enhance the value of his property, and favored the project.]

[Footnote 60: Above may be seen a _fac-simile_ of the last paragraph of Dean Stanley's letter.]

[Footnote 61: The letter of Mr. Field conveying his generous offer to the New York Historical Society (September, 1880) was referred to the Executive Committee. They warmly recommended its favorable consideration by the society. In their report, referring to the event commemorated by the memorial-stone at Tappaan, the committee said it was an "event which, perhaps, more signally than any other act of his life, illustrates the wisdom and firmness of Washington under circumstances of peculiar trial, in which even his devoted followers were disposed to question his humanity, if not his justice, and almost to fall in with the sentimental calumny of the day, which has been so often reviewed and refuted as to become ridiculous. The memorial-stone of André's execution is a monument to Washington."]

[Footnote 62: The engraving is from the original drawing of the architect. Just below the inscription, at the bottom of the shaft, is cut "Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, Dean of Westminster."]

[Footnote 63: It was ascertained that the perpetrator of the crime was a "crank"--a printer, in the city of New York--who, after eluding the officers of the law for some time, finally died.]

[Footnote 64: A petition addressed to the Governor of the State, asking him to assist in an effort to discover the perpetrator of the crime, was signed by a large number of the most respectable citizens of Rockland County.]

MONODY ON MAJOR ANDRÉ.

THE AUTHOR OF THE MONODY.

Anna Seward, the abiding friend and ever-faithful correspondent of Major André until his death, was a daughter of Thomas Seward, the canon-resident of Lichfield Cathedral. She was born at Eyam, in Derbyshire, England, in 1747. Her education, superior to that of most girls of her time, was superintended by her father, who was a graduate of Oxford, a man of great moral worth, and noted for his scholarship.

Miss Seward evinced a taste and a genius for poetic composition at a very early age, and before she reached the period of young womanhood she attracted the attention of local literary characters. She became a great favorite of Dr. Samuel Johnson, who was a native of Lichfield and was a frequent guest at the house of her father. On one occasion, when she was about fourteen years of age, she wrote a clever poetical address of welcome to Dr. Johnson, which greatly pleased the recipient. Miss Seward is often incidentally mentioned in Boswell's "Life of Johnson." Writing of a visit at Mr. Seward's in 1775, when Anna was twenty-eight years of age, Boswell, Johnson's shadow, says, "And now, for the first time, I had the pleasure of seeing his celebrated daughter, Miss Anna Seward, to whom I have since been indebted for many civilities."

Miss Seward's first acquaintance with young André, her interest in his love-affair with Honora Sneyd, and her pleasant epistolary and personal intercourse with him until his departure for America, have been referred to in the early portions of the brief notice of that young soldier's career contained in this volume. During his service in America she was his constant correspondent; and she first informed him of the death of Honora a short time before his own tragic exit from earth.

The circumstances attending the death of her friend inspired Miss Seward to write her most notable and most admired poem, "Monody on Major André." She was then thirty-three years old. It was printed for the author at Lichfield early in 1781. Being consonant in its utterances with the feelings of the British public at that time, it had a large sale, and produced a powerful sensation. She received congratulatory letters from literary people and others in various parts of the kingdom. No man was more delighted with it than was Dr. Johnson, "the colossus of English literature."

Johnson was a fierce Tory, and hated the Americans with a spirit of savage ferocity. On one occasion, while at Lichfield, he said, "I am willing to love all mankind, excepting an American." He called them "rascals," "robbers and pirates," and angrily exclaimed, "I'd burn and destroy them!" Boswell says Miss Seward, who was present at this outburst of passion, and whose feelings were favorable to the American cause, boldly rebuked Johnson, saying, "Sir, this is an instance that we are most violent against those we have most injured." This delicate but keen reproach irritated Johnson still more, and, says Boswell, "he roared out another tremendous volley, which one might fancy could be heard across the Atlantic." But Johnson and Anna Seward remained good friends until a short time before the death of the former. They corresponded with each other, and frequently met in social circles.

I have said Dr. Johnson was delighted by Miss Seward's "Monody." He exhibited that delight in the most public manner by writing and publishing in the "Gentleman's Magazine," over his own signature, the following poetic epistle to the author:

"To Miss Seward, on her Monody on Major André:

"Above the frigid etiquette of form,
With the same animated feelings warm,
I come, fair maid, enamored of thy lays,
With tribute verse, to swell the note of praise.
Nor let the gentle Julia's[65] hand disclaim
The bold intrusion of an honest strain.
Nor is it mine alone--'tis the full voice
Of such as honor with no vulgar choice,[66]
Of such as feel each glowing line along
Once the bright subject of an humble song.[67]
The treasures of the female heart make known
By copying the soft movements of her own.
Woman should walk arrayed in her own robe,
The hope, the boast, the blessing of the globe.

"_Shrewsbury._ S. Johnson."

Miss Seward's "Monody" was dedicated to Sir Henry Clinton. To it were appended three letters written to her by young André immediately after his betrothal to and personal separation from Honora Sneyd. These I have appended to the "Monody," The printed copy of that poem, before me, bears the autograph signature of Anna Seward at the end.

It was not long after Johnson's poetical epistle to the author of the "Monody" appeared before an interruption of the goodly feeling between him and his fair friend occurred. In 1782 Johnson's "Lives of the British Poets" appeared, in which he severely criticised the poetry of her cherished friend Thomas Hayley. Ever ready and prompt to defend heroically those she had learned to esteem, she instantly took fire at the attack, and she wrote letters to her friends which were far from complimentary to Johnson. To Hayley she wrote:

"You have seen Dr. Johnson's 'Lives of the Poets.' They have excited your generous indignation. A heart like Hayley's would shrink astonished to perceive a mind so enriched with the power of genius capable of such cool malignity. Yet the 'Gentleman's Magazine' praised these unworthy efforts to blight the laurels of undoubted fame. Oh, that the venom may fall where it ought!"

Animadversions by Miss Seward more severe than this found their way, without her consent, into the public prints, and deeply offended Dr. Johnson. The breach thus made was never healed. Miss Seward refused to retract a word, but persisted in her utterances. Sometimes, even after the death of Dr. Johnson, in 1784, they were spiced with attacks upon his personal character. These attacks drew from Boswell a defense of his dead friend, whom he almost adored, and in 1793 he and Miss Seward carried on a spirited controversy in the "Gentleman's Magazine."

Miss Seward's writings in verse and prose were quite voluminous. The latter, consisting of her literary correspondence from 1784 to 1807, was published in six volumes in the latter year. Her poetical works, with extracts from her literary correspondence, edited by Sir Walter Scott, were published in three volumes in 1810. Next to her "Monody," in point of excellence and popularity, was her "Elegy on Captain James Cook," the famous circumnavigator of the globe. Of this performance Sir Walter Scott said, "It conveyed a high impression of the original power of the author."

The literary fame of Anna Seward has not been enduring, and she, who was a conspicuous figure in the world of letters in England during the last quarter of the eighteenth century, is now almost forgotten. Her known social relations to Major André, and her "Monody," have perpetuated her memory in the minds of Americans. It is said that, when she was fully informed of all the circumstances connected with the death of André, she was satisfied that she had been unjust toward Washington in her animadversions upon his character in her poem, and expressed a regret that she had so misjudged him.

Miss Seward, in a letter to her friend Miss Ponsonby, related that several years after the peace a friend of Washington's, an American officer, introduced himself to her (Miss Seward), saying he was commissioned by General Washington to call upon her and assure her that no circumstance of his life had been so mortifying as to be censured in the "Monody" on André as the pitiless author of his ignominious fate; that he had labored to save him; and that he requested his friend to leave with Miss Seward a package of papers which he had sent, consisting of copies of the records of the court-martial, etc. "The American officer referred to," says Sargent, "is supposed to have been Colonel Humphreys."

Various opinions have been expressed concerning the writings of Miss Seward. The literary circle of Lichfield, of which she was the central figure, appears to have been a mutual-admiration society. The productions of each member appear to have been eulogized by every other member. Her friend, the celebrated Dr. Erasmus Darwin, declared that she was "the inventress of epic elegy"; the eccentric philosopher Day called her a "prodigy of genius"; while the wits of London gently ridiculed the pretensions of the literary Lichfieldians. Horace Walpole wrote: "Misses Seward and Williams, and a half a dozen more of these harmonious virgins, have no imagination, no novelty. Their thoughts and phrases are like their gowns--old remnants cut and turned." The Rev. Alexander Dyce wrote: "She was endowed with considerable genius, and with an ample portion of that fine enthusiasm which sometimes may be taken for it; but her taste was far from good, and her numerous productions (a few excepted) are disfigured by florid ornament and elaborate magnificence."

After Miss Seward's death, in 1809, there was published a small volume with the title of "The Beauties of Anna Seward." She died a maiden. The portrait preceding this brief memoir is a carefully drawn copy with pen and ink of an engraving by A. Carden, from the original picture painted in 1763, when she was sixteen years of age, by Tilly Kettle, an English portrait-painter of note, who was then only about twenty-three years of age.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 65: André in his correspondence with Miss Seward on the topic of Honora addressed her as "Julia."]

[Footnote 66: A reading society at Shrewsbury is here alluded to.]

[Footnote 67: Alluding to an "Essay on Woman," written by Johnson.]

MONODY

ON

MAJOR ANDRÉ.

By Miss SEWARD,

(AUTHOR OF THE ELEGY ON CAPTAIN COOK.)

TO WHICH ARE ADDED
LETTERS ADDRESSED TO HER
By MAJOR ANDRÉ,

IN THE YEAR 1769.

LICHFIELD:

PRINTED AND SOLD BY J. JACKSON, FOR THE AUTHOR;
SOLD ALSO BY ROBINSON, PATER-NOSTER ROW; CADELL AND EVANS, IN THE
STRAND, LONDON; PRINCE, OXFORD; MERRILL, CAMBRIDGE;
AND PRATT AND CLINCH, BATH.

M.DCC.LXXXI.

[_Price, Two-Shillings-and-Six-Pence._]

TO

HIS EXCELLENCY,

SIR HENRY CLINTON,

KNIGHT OF THE BATH.

Sir: _With the zeal of a religious Enthusiast to his murdered Saint, the Author of this mournful Eulogium consecrates it to the Memory of Major André, who fell a Martyr in the Cause of his King and Country, with the firm Intrepidity of a Roman, and the amiable Resignation of a Christian Hero._

_Distant Awe and Reverence prevent her offering these Effusions of Gratitude to the Beneficent and Royal Patron of the André Family. May Mr. André's illustrious General, the Guardian of his injured Honour, his conspicuous and personal Friend, deign to accept them from One who was once happy in the Friendship of the_ Glorious Sufferer.

_Your Excellency's_
_Most obedient humble Servant_,
Anna Seward.

MONODY

ON

MAJOR ANDRÉ.

Loud howls the storm! the vex'd Atlantic roars!
Thy Genius, Britain, wanders on its shores!
Hears cries of horror, wafted from afar,
And groans of Anguish, mid the shrieks of War!
Hears the deep curses of the Great and Brave,
Sigh in the wind, and murmur on the wave!
O'er his damp brow the sable crape he binds,
And throws his victor-garland[68] to the winds;
Bids haggard Winter, in her drear sojourn,
Tear the dim foliage from her drizzling urn;
With sickly yew unfragrant cypress twine,
And hang the dusky wreath round Honour's shrine.
Bids steel-clad valour chace his dove-like Bride,
Enfeebling Mercy, from his awful side;
Where long she sat, and check'd the ardent rein,
As whirl'd his chariot o'er th' embattled plain;
Gilded with sunny smile her April tear,
Rais'd her white arm and stay'd th' uplifted spear;
Then, in her place, bid Vengeance mount the car,
And glut with gore th' insatiate Dogs of War!--
With one pale hand the bloody scroll[69] he rears,
And bids his nations blot it with their tears;
And one, extended o'er th' Atlantic wave,
Points to his André's ignominious grave!

And shall the Muse, that marks the solemn scene,
"As busy Fancy lifts the veil between,"
Refuse to mingle in the awful train,
Nor breathe with glowing zeal the votive strain?
From public fame shall admiration fire
The boldest numbers of her raptur'd lyre
To hymn a Stranger?--and with ardent lay
Lead the wild mourner round her Cook's morai,
While André fades upon his dreary bier,
And Julia's[70] only tribute is her tear?
Dear, lovely Youth! whose gentle virtues stole
Thro' Friendship's soft'ning medium on her soul!
Ah no!--with every strong resistless plea,
Rise the recorded days she pass'd with thee,
While each dim shadow of o'erwhelming years,
With Eagle-glance reverted, Mem'ry clears.

Belov'd companion of the fairest hours
That rose for her in joy's resplendent bow'rs,
How gaily shone on thy bright Morn of Youth
The Star of Pleasure, and the Sun of Truth!
Full from their Source descended on thy mind
Each gen'rous virtue, and each taste refin'd.
Young Genius led thee to his varied fane,
Bade thee ask[71] all his gifts, nor ask in vain;
Hence novel thoughts, in ev'ry lustre drest
Of pointed wit, that diamond of the breast;
Hence glow'd thy fancy with poetic ray,
Hence music warbled in thy sprightly lay;
And hence thy pencil, with his colours warm,
Caught ev'ry grace, and copied ev'ry charm,
Whose transient glories beam on Beauty's cheek,
And bid the glowing Ivory breathe and speak.
Blest pencil! by kind Fate ordain'd to save
Honora's semblance from[72]her early grave,
Oh! while on[73]Julia's arm it sweetly smiles,
And each lorn thought, each long regret beguiles,
Fondly she weeps the hand, which form'd the spell,
Now shroudless mould'ring in its earthy cell!

But sure the Youth, whose ill-starr'd passion strove
With all the pangs of inauspicious Love,
Full oft' deplor'd the Fatal Art, that stole
The jocund freedom of its Master's soul!
While with nice hand he mark'd the living grace,
And matchless sweetness of Honora's face,
Th' enamour'd Youth the faithful traces blest,
That barb'd the dart of Beauty in his breast;
Around his neck th' enchanting Portrait hung,
While a warm vow burst ardent from his tongue,
That from his bosom no succeeding day,
No chance should bear that Talisman away.
'Twas thus[74]Apelles bask'd in Beauty's blaze,
And felt the mischief of the steadfast gaze;
Trac'd with disorder'd hand Campaspe's charms,
And as their beams the kindling Canvas warms,
Triumphant Love, with still superior art,
Engraves their wonders on the Painter's heart.

Dear lost Companion! ever-constant Youth!
That Fate had smil'd propitious on thy Truth!
Nor bound th' ensanguin'd laurel on that brow
Where Love ordain'd his brightest wreath to glow!
Then Peace had led thee to her softest bow'rs,
And Hymen strew'd thy path with all his flow'rs;
Drawn to thy roof, by Friendship's silver cord,
Each social Joy had brighten'd at thy board;
Science, and soft Affection's blended rays
Had shone unclouded on thy lengthen'd days;
From hour to hour thy taste, with conscious pride,
Had mark'd new talents in thy lovely Bride;
Till thou hadst own'd the magic of her face
Thy fair Honora's least engaging grace.
Dear lost Honora! o'er thy early bier
Sorrowing the Muse still sheds her sacred tear!
The blushing Rose-bud in its vernal bed,
By Zephyrs fann'd, by glist'ring Dew-drops fed,
In June's gay morn that scents the ambient air,
Was not more sweet, more innocent or fair.
Oh! when such Pairs their kindred Spirit find,
When Sense and Virtue deck each spotless Mind,
Hard is the doom that shall the union break,
And Fate's dark billow rises o'er the wreck.

Now Prudence, in her cold and thrifty care,
Frown'd on the Maid, and bade the Youth despair,
For Pow'r Parental sternly saw, and strove
To tear the lily-bands of plighted love;
Nor strove in vain;--but while the Fair-One's sighs
Disperse, like April storms in sunny skies,
The firmer Lover, with unswerving truth,
To his first passion consecrates his Youth;
Tho' four long years a night of absence prove,
Yet Hope's soft Star shone trembling on his Love;
Till[75]hov'ring Rumour chas'd the pleasing dream
And veil'd with Raven-wing the silver beam.
"Honora lost! my happy Rival's Bride!
"Swell ye full Sails! and roll thou mighty Tide!
"O'er the dark Waves forsaken André bear
"Amid the vollying Thunders of the War!
"To win bright Glory from my Country's foes,
"E'en in this ice of Love, my bosom glows.
"Voluptuous London! in whose gorgeous bow'rs
"The frolic Pleasures lead the dancing Hours,
"From Orient-vales Sabean-odours bring,
"Nor ask her roses of the tardy Spring;
"Where Paintings burn the Grecian Meed to claim
"From the high Temple of immortal Fame,
"Bears to the radiant Goal, with ardent pace,
"Her Kauffman's Beauty, and her Reynolds' Grace;
"Where Music floats the glitt'ring roofs among,
"And with meand'ring cadence swells the Song,
"While sun-clad Poesy the Bard inspires,
"And foils the Grecian Harps, the Latian Lyres.

"Ye soft'ning Luxuries! ye polish'd Arts!
"Bend your enfeebling rays on tranquil Hearts!
"I quit the Song, the Pencil, and the Lyre,
"White robes of Peace, and Pleasure's soft Attire,
"To seize the Sword, to mount the rapid Car,
"In all the proud habiliments of War.--
"Honora lost! I woo a sterner Bride,
"The arm'd Bellona calls me to her side;
"Harsh is the music of our marriage strain!
"It breathes in thunder from the Western plain!
"Wide o'er the wat'ry world its echoes roll,
"And rouse each latent ardour of my soul.
"And tho' unlike the soft melodious lay,
"That gaily wak'd Honora's nuptial day,
"Its deeper tones shall whisper, e'er they cease,
"More genuine transport, and more lasting peace!

"Resolv'd I go!--nor from that fatal bourne
"To these gay scenes shall André's step return!
"Set is the Star of Love, that ought to guide
"His refluent Bark across the mighty Tide!--
"But while my Country's Foes, with impious hand,
"Hurl o'er the blasted plains the livid brand
"Of dire Sedition!--Oh! let Heav'n ordain,
"While André lives, he may not live in vain!

"Yet without one kind farewell, could I roam
"Far from my weeping Friends, my peaceful home,
"The best affections of my heart must cease,
"And gratitude be lost, with hope, and peace!
My lovely Sisters! who were wont to twine
"Your Souls' soft feeling with each wish of mine,
"Shall, when this breast beats high at Glory's call,
"From your mild eyes the show'rs of Sorrow fall?--
"The light of Excellence, that round you glows,
"Decks with reflected beam your Brother's brows.
"Oh! may his Fame, in some distinguish'd day,
"Pour on that Excellence the brightest ray!
"Dim clouds of woe! ye veil each sprightly grace
"That us'd to sparkle in Maria's face.--
"My[76]tuneful Anna to her lute complains,
"But Grief's fond throbs arrest the parting strains.--
"Fair as the silver blossom on the thorn,
"Soft as the spirit of the vernal morn,
"Louisa, chace those trembling fears, that prove
"Th' ungovern'd terrors of a Sister's love.
"They bend thy sweet head, like yon lucid flow'r,
"That shrinks and fades beneath the summer's show'r--
"Oh! smile, my Sisters, on this destin'd day,
"And with the radiant omen gild my way!
"And thou, my Brother, gentle as the gale,
"Whose breath perfumes anew the blossom'd vale,
"Yet quick of Spirit, as th' electric beam,
"When from the clouds its darting lightnings stream,
"Soothe with incessant care our Mother's woes,
"And hush her anxious sighs to soft repose.--
"And be ye sure, when distant far I stray
"To share the dangers of the arduous day,
"Your tender faithful amity shall rest
"The[77] last dear record of my grateful breast.

"Oh! graceful Priestess at the fane of Truth,
"Friend of my Soul! and Guardian of my Youth!
"Skill'd to convert the duty to the choice,
"My gentle Mother!--in whose melting voice
"The virtuous precept, that perpetual flow'd,
"With music warbled, and with beauty glow'd,
"Thy Tears!--ah Heav'n!--not drops of molten lead,
"Pour'd on thy hapless Son's devoted head,
"With keener smart had each sensation torn!--
"They wake the nerve where agonies are born!
"But oh! restrain me not!--thy tender strife,
"What wou'd it save?--alas!--thy André's life!
"Oh! what a weary pilgrimage 'twill prove
"Strew'd with the thorns of disappointed Love!
"Ne'er can he break the charm, whose fond controul,
"By habit rooted, lords it o'er his soul,
"If here he languish in inglorious ease,
"Where Science palls, and Pleasures cease to please.
"'Tis Glory only, with her potent ray,
"Can chace the clouds that darken all his way.
"Then dry those pearly drops that wildly flow,
"Nor snatch the laurel from my youthful brow!--
"The Rebel Standard blazes to the noon!
"And Glory's path is bright before thy Son!
"Then join thy voice! and thou with Heav'n ordain
"While André lives, he may not live in vain!"

He says!--and sighing seeks the busy strand,
Where anchor'd Navies wait the wish'd command.
To the full gale the nearer billows roar,
And proudly lash the circumscribing shore;
While furious on the craggy coast they rave,
All calm and lovely rolls the distant wave;
For onward, as th' unbounded waters spread,
Deep sink the rocks in their capacious bed,
And all their pointed terror's utmost force
But gently interrupts the billow's course.

So on his present hour rude Passion preys!
So smooth the prospect of his future days!
Unconscious of the Storm, that grimly sleeps,
To wreck its fury on th' unshelter'd Deeps!
Now yielding Waves divide before the prow,
The white sails bend, the streaming pennants glow;
And swiftly waft him to the Western plain,
Where fierce Bellona rages o'er the slain.

Firm in their strength, opposing Legions stand,
Prepar'd to drench with blood the thirsty Land.
Now Carnage hurls her flaming bolts afar,
And Desolation groans amid the War.
As bleed the Valiant, and the Mighty yield,
Death stalks, the only Victor, o'er the field.

Foremost in all the horrors of the day,
Impetuous André[78] leads the glorious way;
Till, rashly bold, by numbers forc'd to yield,
They drag him captive from the long-fought field.--
Around the Hero crowd th' exulting Bands,
And seize the spoils of war with bloody hands,
Snatch the dark plumage from his awful crest,
And tear the golden crescent from his breast;
The sword, the tube, that wings the death from far,
And all the fatal implements of War!

Silent, unmov'd the gallant Youth survey'd
The lavish spoils triumphant Ruffians made.
The idle ornament, the useless spear
He little recks, but oh! there is a fear
Pants with quick throb, while yearning sorrows dart
Thro' his chill frame, and tremble at his heart:

"What tho' Honora's voice no more shall charm!
"No more her beamy smile my bosom warm!
"Yet from these eyes shall force for ever tear
"The sacred Image of that Form so dear?--
"Shade of my Love![79]--tho' mute and cold thy charms,
"Ne'er hast thou blest my happy Rival's arms!
"To my sad heart each Dawn has seen thee prest!
"Each Night has laid thee pillow'd on my breast!
"Force shall not tear thee from thy faithful shrine;
"Shade of my Love! thou shalt be ever mine!

"'Tis fix'd!--these lips shall resolute enclose
"The precious Soother of my ceaseless woes.
"And shou'd relentless Violence invade
"This last retreat, by frantic Fondness made,
"One way remains!--Fate whispers to my Soul
"Intrepid[80]Portia and her burning coal!
"So shall the throbbing Inmate of my breast
"From Love's sole gift meet everlasting rest!"

While these sad thoughts in swift succession fire
The smother'd embers of each fond desire,
Quick to his mouth his eager hands removes
The beauteous semblance of the Form he loves.
That darling treasure safe, resign'd he wears
The sordid robe, the scanty viand shares;
With cheerful fortitude content to wait
The barter'd ransom of a kinder Fate.

Now many a Moon in her pale course had shed
The pensive beam on André's captive head.
At length the Sun rose jocund, to adorn
With all his splendour the enfranchis'd Morn.
Again the Hero joins the ardent Train
That pours its thousands on the tented plain;
And shines distinguish'd in the long Array,
Bright as the silver Star that leads the Day!
His modest temperance, his wakeful heed,
His silent diligence, his ardent speed,
Each Warrior-duty to the Veteran taught,
Shaming the vain Experience Time had brought.
Dependence scarcely feels his gentle sway,
He shares each want, and smiles each grief away;
And to the virtues of a noble Heart,
Unites the talents of inventive Art.
Thus from his swift and faithful pencil flow
The Lines, the Camp, the Fortress of the Foe;
Serene to counteract each deep design,
Points the dark Ambush, and the springing Mine;
Till, as a breathing Incense, André's name
Pervades the Host, and swells the loud acclaim.

The Chief no virtue views with cold regard,
Skill'd to discern, and generous to reward;
Each tow'ring hope his honour'd smiles impart,
As near his Person, and more near his Heart
The graceful Youth he draws,--and round his brow
Bids Rank and Pow'r their mingled brilliance throw.

Oh! hast thou seen a blooming Morn of May
In crystal beauty shed the modest ray,
And with its balmy dews' refreshing show'r
Swell the young grain, and ope the purple flow'r,
In brightening lustre reach its radiant Noon,
Rob'd in the gayest mantle of the Sun?
Then 'mid the splendours of its azure skies,
Oh! hast thou seen the cruel Storm arise,
In sable horror shroud each dazzling charm,
And dash their glories back with icy arm?

Thus lowr'd the deathful cloud amid the blaze
Of André's rising hopes,--and quench'd their rays!
Ah, fatal Embassy!--thy hazards dire
His kindling Soul with ev'ry ardour fire;
Great Clinton gives it to the courage prov'd,
And the known wisdom of the Friend he lov'd.

As fair Euryalus, to meet his Fate,
With Nysus rushes from the Dardan gate,
Relentless Fate! whose fury scorns to spare
The snowy breast, red lip, and shining hair,
So polish'd André launches on the waves,
Where[81]Hudson's tide its dreary confine laves.
With firm intrepid foot the Youth explores
Each dangerous pathway of the hostile shores;
But on no Veteran-Chief his step attends,
As silent round the gloomy Wood he wends;
Alone he meets the brave repentant Foe,
Sustains his late resolve, receives his vow,
With ardent skill directs the doubtful course,
Seals the firm bond, and ratifies its force.
'Tis thus, America, thy Generals fly,
And wave new banners in their native sky!
Sick of the mischiefs artful Gallia pours,
In friendly semblance on thy ravag'd shores.
Unnatural compact!--shall a Race of Slaves
Sustain the ponderous standard Freedom waves?
No! while their feign'd Protection spreads the toils,
The Vultures hover o'er the destin'd spoils!
How fade Provincial-glories, while ye run
To court far deeper bondage than ye shun!
Is this the generous active rising Flame,
That boasted Liberty's immortal name,
Blaz'd for its rights infring'd, its trophies torn,
And taught the Wife the dire mistake to mourn,
When haughty Britain, in a luckless hour,
With rage inebriate, and the lust of pow'r,
To fruitless conquest, and to countless graves,
Led her gay Legions o'er the Western waves?
The Friend of Discord, cow'ring at the prow,
Sat darkly smiling at th' impending woe!

Long did my Soul the wretched strife survey,
And wept the horrors of the deathful day;
Thro' rolling Years saw undecisive War
Drag bleeding Wisdom at his iron Car;
Exhaust my Country's treasure, pour her gore
In fruitless conflict on the distant shore;
Saw the firm Congress all her might oppose,
And while I mourn'd her fate, rever'd her Foes.

But when, repentant of her prouder aim,
She gently waives the long-disputed claim;
Extends the Charter with your Rights restor'd,
And hides in olive-wreaths the blood-stain'd sword,
Then to reject her peaceful wreaths, and throw
Your Country's Freedom to our mutual Foe!--
Infatuate Land!--from that detested day
Distracted Councils, and the thirst of Sway,
Rapacious Avarice, Superstition vile,
And all the _Frenchman_ dictates in his guile
Disgrace your Congress!--Justice drops her scale!
And radiant Liberty averts her sail!
They fly indignant the polluted plain,
Where Truth is scorn'd, and Mercy pleads in vain.
That she does plead in vain, thy witness bear,
Accursed Hour!--thou darkest of the Year!
That with Misfortune's deadliest venom fraught,
To Tappan's Wall the gallant André brought.

Oh Washington! I thought thee great and good,
Nor knew thy Nero-thirst of guiltless blood!
Severe to use the pow'r that Fortune gave,
Thou cool determin'd Murderer of the Brave!
Lost to each fairer Virtue, that inspires
The genuine fervor, of the patriot fires!
And You, the base Abettors of the doom,
That sunk his blooming honors in the tomb,
Th' opprobrious tomb your harden'd hearts decreed,
While all he ask'd was as the Brave to Bleed!
Nor other boon the glorious Youth implor'd
Save the cold Mercy of the Warrior-Sword!
O dark, and pitiless! your impious hate
O'er-whelm'd the Hero in the Ruffian's fate!
Stopt with the[82]Felon-cord the rosy breath!
And venom'd with disgrace the darts of Death!
Remorseless Washington! the day shall come
Of deep repentance for this barb'rous doom!
When injur'd André's memory shall inspire
A kindling Army with resistless fire;
Each falchion sharpen that the Britons wield,
And lead their fiercest Lion to the field!
Then, when each hope of thine shall set in night,
When dubious dread, and unavailing flight
Impel your Host, thy guilt-upbraided Soul
Shall wish untouch'd the sacred Life you stole!
And when thy Heart appall'd and vanquish'd Pride
Shall vainly ask the mercy they deny'd,
With horror shalt thou meet the fate they gave,
Nor Pity gild the darkness of thy grave!
For Infamy, with livid hand shall shed
Eternal mildew on the ruthless head!

Less cruel far than thou, on Ilium's plain
Achilles, raging for Patroclus slain!
When hapless Priam bends the aged knee,
To deprecate the Victor's dire decree,
The nobler Greek, in melting pity spares
The lifeless Hector to his Father's prayers,
Fierce as he was;--'tis _Cowards_ only know
Persisting vengeance o'er a _fallen_ Foe.

But no intreaty wakes the soft remorse,
Oh, murder'd André! for thy sacred Corse;
Vain were an army's, vain its Leader's sighs!--
Damp in the Earth on Hudson's shore it lies!
Unshrouded welters in the wintry storm,
And gluts the riot of the[83]Tappan Worm!
But oh! its dust, like Abel's blood, shall rise,
And call for justice from the angry skies!

What tho' the Tyrants, with malignant pride,
To thy pale Corse each decent rite deny'd!
Thy graceful limbs in no kind covert laid,
Nor with the Christian Requiem sooth'd thy shade!
Yet on thy grass-green Bier soft April-show'rs
Shall earliest wake the sweet spontaneous Flow'rs,
Bid the blue Hare-bell and the Snow-drop there
Hang their cold cup, and drop the pearly tear!
And oft, at pensive Eve's ambiguous gloom,
Imperial Honour, bending o'er thy tomb,
With solemn strains shall lull thy deep repose,
And with his deathless Laurels shade thy brows!

Lamented Youth! while with inverted spear
The British Legions pour th' indignant tear!
Round the dropt arm the[84]funeral scarf entwine,
And in their heart's deep core thy worth enshrine,
While my weak Muse, in fond attempt and vain,
But feebly pours a perishable strain,
Oh! ye distinguish'd Few! whose glowing lays
Bright Phœbus kindles with his purest rays,
Snatch from its radiant source the living fire,
And light with[85]Vestal flame your André's Hallow'd Pyre.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 68: Victor-garland--alluding to the conquest by Lord Cornwallis.]

[Footnote 69: Bloody scroll. The court-martial decree, signed at Tappan, for Major André's execution.]

[Footnote 70: _Julia_--the name by which Mr. André addressed the author in his correspondence with her.]

[Footnote 71: _All his gifts._--Mr. André has conspicuous talents for Poetry, Music, and Painting. The newspapers mentioned a satiric poem of his upon Americans, which was supposed to have stimulated this barbarity towards him ["The Cow-Chase"].--Of his wit and vivacity, the letters subjoined to this work afford ample proof.--They were addressed to the author by Mr. André when he was a youth of eighteen.]

[Footnote 72: _Early grave._--Miss Honora S. [Honora Sneyd], to whom Mr. André's attachment was of such singular constancy, died in a consumption a few months before he suffer'd death at Tappan. She had married another Gentleman [Richard Lovell Edgeworth] four years after her engagement with Mr. André had been dissolved by parental authority.]

[Footnote 73: _Julia's arm._--Mr. André drew two miniature pictures of Miss Honora S. on his first acquaintance with her at Buxton, in the year 1769, one for himself, the other for the author of this poem.]

[Footnote 74: _'Twas thus Apelles._--Prior is very elegant upon this circumstance in an Ode to his Friend, Mr. Howard the Painter.]

[Footnote 75: _Hov'ring Rumour._--The tidings of Honora's Marriage. Upon that event Mr. André quitted his Profession as a Merchant and join'd our Army in America.]

[Footnote 76: _Tuneful Anna._--Miss Anna André has a poetical talent.]

[Footnote 77: _Last dear record._--"I have a Mother, and three Sisters, to whom the value of my commission wou'd be an object, as the loss of Grenada has much affected their income. It is needless to be more explicit on this subject, I know your Excellency's goodness."--See Major André's last letter to General Clinton, publish'd in the Gazette.]

[Footnote 78: _Impetuous André._--It is in this passage only that fiction has been employ'd thro' the narrative of the poem. Mr. André was a prisoner in America, soon after his arrival there, but the Author is unacquainted with the circumstances of the action in which he was taken.]

[Footnote 79: _Shade of my Love._--The miniature of Honora. A letter from Major André to one of his Friends, written a few years ago, contained the following sentence: "I have been taken prisoner by the Americans and stript of everything except the picture of Honora, which I concealed in my mouth. Preserving that, I yet think myself fortunate."]

[Footnote 80:

_Intrepid Portia._--"_Brutus_.] Impatient of my absence,
"And grieved that young Octavius with Mark Antony
"Had made themselves so strong, she grew distracted,
"And, her Attendants absent, swallow'd fire.
"_Cassius._] And dy'd so?
"_Brutus._] Even so!"

See Shakespear's Play of Julius Cæsar, Act IV., Scene IV.]

[Footnote 81: _Hudson's tide._--Major André came up the Hudson River to meet General Arnold. On his return by Land he fell into the hands of the Enemy.]

[Footnote 82: _Felon-cord._--"As I suffer in the defence of my Country, I must consider this hour as the most glorious of my life.--Remember that I die as becomes a British Officer, while the manner of my death must reflect disgrace on your Commander." See Major André's last words, inserted in the General Evening Post, for Tuesday, November the 14, 1780.]

[Footnote 83: _Tappan._--The place where Major André was executed.]

[Footnote 84: _Funeral scarf._--Our whole Army in America went into mourning for Major André, a distinguish'd tribute to his merit.]

[Footnote 85: _Vestal flame._--The Vestal fire was kept perpetually burning, and originally kindled from the rays of the Sun.]

LETTERS

ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR OF THE FOREGOING POEM, BY MAJOR ANDRÉ, WHEN HE WAS A YOUTH OF EIGHTEEN.