His expensive Style of Living and pecuniary Embarrassments.--First
Ideas of betraying his Country.--Application to the French
Ambassador.--Marriage.--Takes Command at West Point.
The decision of the court-martial was received with an ill grace by
General Arnold, and with concealed emotions of deep resentment. He had
loudly expressed a conviction, and perhaps he had actually persuaded
himself into a belief, that a military tribunal would acquit him
honorably of all the charges. In the same degree, that he had allowed
himself to be flattered with this sanguine anticipation, was the
rankling of the wound now inflicted on his self-complacency and pride.
He submitted to the reprimand, however, in sullen reserve and with a
pretended acquiescence.
General Washington, in performing the duty imposed on him as the head of
the army, exercised all the delicacy, which he thought due to an officer
so highly distinguished by his rank and bravery, and which was likewise
conformable to his own character and feelings. The language employed
on the occasion, as preserved by M. de Marbois, was as follows. "Our
profession is the chastest of all. The shadow of a fault tarnishes our
most brilliant actions. The least inadvertence may cause us to lose that
public favor, which is so hard to be gained. I reprimand you for having
forgotten, that, in proportion as you had rendered yourself formidable
to our enemies, you should have shown moderation towards our citizens.
Exhibit again those splendid qualities, which have placed you in the
rank of our most distinguished generals. As far as it shall be in my
power, I will myself furnish you with opportunities for regaining the
esteem, which you have formerly enjoyed." Terms more soothing, or better
suited to operate on a noble and generous mind, could hardly be chosen.
But they had no effect on the irritated and relentless temper of Arnold.
He was equally deaf to the counsels of wisdom, the admonitions of
friendship, and the appeals of honor. He had already made secret
advances to the enemy under a feigned name, intending to square his
future conduct according to circumstances, and prepared, should the
court decide against him, to seek revenge at any hazard. From the moment
he harbored such a thought in his breast he was a lost man. Honor,
virtue, sincerity, love of country, love of fame, all were gone. His
companionship was with despair and guilt.
Dissembling his real motives, after being restored to his former
standing in the army, he asked permission of absence during the summer,
assigning as a reason, that his private affairs were deranged and
required his attention, that there was little prospect of an active
campaign, and that his wounds were not yet in a condition to enable
him to endure the fatigues of the field. Washington readily granted his
request, and he returned to Philadelphia.
From the time he took the command in that city he had lived in a style
of splendor and extravagance, which was wholly unsuited to his fortune
or any reasonable expectancy. He established himself in a magnificent
house, formerly occupied by the Penn family, furnished it expensively,
drove his coach and four, and indulged in every kind of ostentatious
profusion, which could gratify his vanity and his passion for luxury
and parade. When M. Gerard, the French ambassador, first arrived in
Philadelphia, he was entertained at a public dinner given by General
Arnold; and, for several days afterwards, the ambassador and his suite
occupied apartments as guests in his house.
This style of living could not be maintained without funds. Debts were
contracted, and temporary supplies were thus procured; but a declining
credit soon produced a conviction of improvidence, and excited
forebodings, which even Arnold could not contemplate with unconcern. Too
proud to acknowledge his folly by abandoning it, and too desperate to be
governed by the plain rules of integrity or prudence, he resorted to all
the methods for acquiring money, which his ingenuity could devise or
his high station put in his power. Among these were some by no means
creditable to his principles, or consistent with his rank as an officer.
He entered into petty speculations and practised unworthy artifices
for gain in small matters as well as great. He united with others in
privateering enterprises and various commercial projects of hazard.
The results were frequently unfortunate, and the losses outweighed the
profits. On one occasion, when Count d'Estaing approached the American
coast, and it was supposed the British would be driven from New York, he
formed a copartnership with two other individuals for purchasing goods
within the enemy's lines, to the amount of thirty thousand pounds
sterling. Although there was nothing positively wrong in this
transaction, yet it was one in which a major-general of the American
service, holding at that time an important command, could not be
reputably engaged.
In the midst of his embarrassments, about a month after his trial, he
renewed a petition to Congress for a settlement of his accounts. These
had already been referred to commissioners, who made a report; and
the accounts were then sent to the Treasury Board for settlement. The
original difficulties, however, were not removed. Arnold insisted on his
old claims, quarrelled with the members of Congress who doubted them,
and wearied the others with his importunities and complaints, till his
enemies were provoked and disgusted at his effrontery, and the patience
of his friends was worn out. Indeed, the affair had grown into such a
state of perplexity, that the prospect of a satisfactory termination was
more clouded, and seemed more distant, than ever.
Already abandoned to the impulse of passion, disappointed, chagrined,
and pressed by his wants, he resolved to unburden his griefs to the
French envoy, M. de la Luzerne, and apply to him for pecuniary aid. That
minister, having an admiration of his bravery and military talents, and
believing generous usage the best means of reclaiming such a man from
his errors, was accustomed to treat him with marked civility, and had
shown no change in his deportment after the censure of the court-martial
and the disgrace of a reprimand. Encouraged by this amenity and
kindness, Arnold approached him with confidence, and expressed his
sentiments and wishes without reserve.
The interview has been described with graphic minuteness by M. de
Marbois, who was then secretary to the French legation, and who, if he
was not present, must have learned the particulars from the minister
himself. Arnold spoke of his disinterested services, his sacrifices, his
wounds; he complained of the ingratitude of his country, the injustice
of Congress, and the persecuting malice of his enemies. The war, he
said, in which he had borne so large a share, had ruined his private
affairs; and he added, that, unless he could borrow money to the amount
of his debts, he should be obliged to go into retirement, and quit
a profession, which rewarded him only with poverty. He intimated, in
short, that it would be for the interest of the French King to secure
the attachment and gratitude of an American general so high in rank, and
that these might be purchased by the favor of such a loan as he desired.
The minister listened to this discourse with pain, but he answered with
the frankness of a true friend, and the firmness of an honorable and
honest mind. "You desire of me a service," said he, "which it would be
easy for me to render, but which would degrade us both. When the envoy
of a foreign power gives, or, if you will, lends money, it is ordinarily
to corrupt those who receive it, and to make them the creatures of the
sovereign, whom he serves; or rather he corrupts without persuading; he
buys and does not secure. But the firm league entered into between the
King and the United States is the work of justice and of the wisest
policy. It has for its basis a reciprocal interest and good-will. In the
mission, with which I am charged, my true glory consists in fulfilling
it without intrigue or cabal, without resorting to any secret practices,
and by the force alone of the conditions of the alliance." The effect of
this plainness of speech upon the haughty and irritable temper of Arnold
may be imagined.
But M. de la Luzerne did not content himself with refusing to give the
bribe, and condemning the principles from which such a request emanated.
He hoped to do more, and to win back to the path of duty and rectitude a
man, who, by the force of his own resources and talents, had built up a
reputation that had gained the applause of the world, and who was still
capable of rendering important services to his country. With this view
he addressed him in the language of expostulation and advice, reminding
him that murmurs and resentments at the acts of public bodies, and the
persecutions of political opponents, were the evidences of a weak
rather than of a great mind resting on its own dignity and power; that
a consciousness of innocence was his best support; and that a generous
disregard of the artifices of his enemies, when his country's interests
were at stake, was one of the strongest proofs he could give, that
he deserved the respect and confidence of that portion of his fellow
citizens, whose good opinion was most to be valued. He recurred to the
renown of his former exploits, appealed to his sense of patriotism and
honor, his love of glory, and represented in the most attractive colors
the wide field of action yet before him, if he would suppress his anger,
rise above misfortune, bear his troubles with fortitude, and unite,
heart and hand, with his compatriots to finish the great work, in which
he had already labored with so much credit to himself and benefit to his
country.
These counsels had no weight with Arnold; he wanted money and not
advice. He went away from the French minister indignant at the rebuff he
had met with, mortified at his ill success, and, if his sensibility was
not callous, oppressed with shame at so unguarded and ineffectual
an exposure of his meanness. From that moment his purpose was fixed.
Hitherto his intercourse with the enemy, though of several months'
continuance, had been without a definite aim; clothed in such a shape,
that it might be consummated or dropped according to the complexion of
future events. The point was now reached, at which it was hopeless
to deliberate, and pusillanimous to waver. Pride, vexation, revenge,
hurried him to the fatal determination of betraying his country, as the
last refuge of despair. It only remained for him to settle in his mind
the manner in which this could so be done, as to produce the greatest
advantage to himself, and injury to the cause he was about to desert. It
was obvious, that the favor he might expect from his new friends would
be in proportion to the harm he should do to their enemies.
In this train of reflection he thought of the command at West Point, as
presenting the fairest opportunity for accomplishing his ends. It was a
separate command, a very important post, and accessible to the enemy
by water. His resolution being taken, all his views and efforts
thenceforward were directed to that single object.
Another circumstance should be mentioned, which probably had a large
share among the original causes of the defection of Arnold. When the
British evacuated Philadelphia, many families remained behind, who had
kept up close intimacies with the British officers, and who were known
to be disaffected to the American cause. Prominent in this class, both
for respectability and attachment to the old order of things, was the
family of Mr. Edward Shippen, afterwards Chief Justice of the State
of Pennsylvania. His youngest daughter, at that time under the age of
eighteen, was beautiful, gay, attractive, and ambitious. She had been
admired and flattered by the British officers, and was a conspicuous
personage at the gorgeous festival of the Mischianza, an entertainment
given by them in honor of Sir William Howe, on the occasion of his
resigning the command of the army and departing for Europe. Her
acquaintance with AndrÈ was on so familiar a footing, that she
corresponded with him after the British army had retired to New York.
Arnold had not been many weeks in Philadelphia, before he was smitten
with the charms of this lady, and sought her hand. Captivated with the
splendor in which he lived, with his equipage and military display,
her heart yielded to the impulse of youthful vanity and an aspiring
ambition. His addresses were favorably received, and he married her.
In addition to the biases of his wife, this alliance brought him into
perpetual contact with persons, who had no sympathy with the friends of
liberty, the advocates of independence, the defenders of their country's
rights, but who, on the contrary, condemned their acts, and secretly
hoped, that the power of the British King would crush all opposition and
again predominate.
People of this stamp were ready enough to minister fuel to the flame,
that burned in the breast of a passionate, soured, and discontented man,
who had attained to so high a degree of consequence in the ranks of the
opposite party.
They would not fail to encourage his discontent by aggravating its
causes, by persuading him that he was neglected and ill-treated, that
his services were undervalued, and that he had good reason for his
complaints of ingratitude, injustice, and persecution. Such discourse,
often repeated in his ears, and harmonizing with his impressions, would
gradually give a current to his thoughts, and help to undermine the
tottering fabric of his good resolutions.
Having formed his plan, he applied himself assiduously to the means of
putting it in execution. As he had requested permission of absence from
the army during the campaign, at the time of his trial, it was necessary
to give some plausible reason for changing his mind. Hitherto he had not
ceased to talk about his wounds, and to represent that these disabled
him from taking an active part; but now he said his wounds were fast
recovering, and, although he could not endure the fatigues of the field
on horseback, yet a command requiring little bodily action, like that at
West Point, he thought he could very well sustain; and his eagerness to
rejoin his companions in arms, and render his country all the service
in his power, prompted him to make every sacrifice of ease and comfort,
which was not absolutely forbidden by the state of his health. Such was
the language with which he approached his friends in Congress, who
had adhered to him through all his troubles, and whom he knew to have
influence with the Commander-in-chief, particularly General Schuyler and
the other New York delegates.
When it was known, by the arrival of the Marquis de Lafayette in
Philadelphia, about the middle of May, that a French army of cooperation
was coming to the United States, the quick foresight of Arnold pointed
out to him the facilities, which this circumstance might afford for the
execution of his project. He became the more anxious to have the affair
in a proper train. General Schuyler was then shortly to proceed to
camp, as one of a committee from Congress to consult and act in matters
relating to the army; and Arnold intimated to him, that the command at
West Point would be the best suited to his present condition. General
Schuyler likewise received a letter from him a few days after his
arrival in camp, stating a determination to join the army, and hinting
at West Point, but not in such a manner as to betray solicitude; on the
contrary, he said that he supposed General Heath would command there,
unless some other arrangement should be made agreeable to him.
In the further progress of this design, and upon the same principles
of caution, he prevailed on Mr. Robert R. Livingston, then a member
of Congress from New York, to write to Washington, and suggest the
expediency of appointing him to West Point. Mr. Livingston stated, that
he stood high in the estimation of the people of New York, was very
popular with the militia, whose services would probably be wanted in the
course of the campaign, and was moreover an officer of tried courage and
ability. His application had no appearance of being made at the instance
of General Arnold, but seemed to flow from Mr. Livingston's own views of
the importance of the post and the wisdom of such an appointment.
Thus far every thing had gone on as smoothly as could be desired. The
way was fairly open; no undue concern had been shown, and no suspicions
excited. Mr. Livingston's letter was followed immediately by Arnold in
person, who, under pretence of having private business in Connecticut,
passed through the camp on his route, and called at the quarters of the
Commander-in-chief. By his manner and conversation he seemed to have
no special object, but that of paying his respects, and incidentally
expressed his desire of joining the army. Washington replied, that the
campaign would probably be active, and that, if the condition of his
wounds would permit, he should be extremely glad of his services. Arnold
then said, that he did not think the state of his wounds such as to
allow him to perform a very active part, yet he repeated his wish to
be united again with the army. From the beginning to the end of the
interview no allusion was made to West Point.
He pursued his journey to Connecticut, and when returning he again
called on General Washington. The same subject was introduced, and to
the same effect; till Arnold at last intimated, that, as he was disabled
to do active duty, the command at West Point would probably be better
adapted to him than any other. Washington was a little surprised, that
a man so remarkable for energy and action should seek a post, in which
there was comparatively so little to be done, and told him frankly,
that he could hardly believe the place would suit him, for it would be
covered by the main army towards New York, and thus would need only a
small garrison. Nothing more was said on the subject. Arnold left the
camp, and, after visiting West Point, and examining every part of the
works in company with General Howe, who then commanded there, he went
back to Philadelphia.
He had no sooner arrived, than he wrote to Congress reminding them
that four years' pay was due to him, and requesting the amount of four
months' pay to be furnished, with which he might purchase horses
and camp-equipage, and thereby be enabled to take the field. Whether
Congress ever paid any part of this claim, or took any notice of the
request, I know not, as the journals are silent concerning the matter.
There is a private letter, however, written by him after he had joined
the army, in which he complained, that the public were indebted to him
for four years' pay and a considerable sum of money advanced by him in
Canada. This was only a repetition of the old grievance; and whatever
may have been the extent or justice of his accounts, as represented by
himself, it does not appear that they were ever settled.
When it was known to Sir Henry Clinton, that the French troops had
arrived at Newport, he formed a plan for attacking them before they
could land and fortify themselves. Intelligence of the preparatory
movements for this enterprise was instantly communicated to General
Washington by his spies in New York. His army was then encamped on the
west side of Hudson's River, and he immediately put it in motion to
cross the river, with the intention to march down the east side, menace
New York in the absence of Sir Henry Clinton, and even attack it, should
his force prove sufficient. Arnold reached the camp on the last day of
July, while the army was crossing the river at King's Ferry. He first
met General Washington riding to see the last division over, and asked
if any place had been assigned to him. The General replied, that he was
to command the left wing, which was a post of honor and to which he was
entitled by his rank. At these words his countenance fell, and he showed
a manifest disappointment, but said nothing. The General desired him
to go to his quarters, where he would soon meet him, and have further
conversation.
On arriving there he ascertained from Colonel Tilghman, one of his
aids, that Arnold had been talking with him on the subject, and seemed
dissatisfied and uneasy, alleging his inability to perform proper
service in the field, or to remain long on horseback, in consequence of
his wounded leg, and speaking of West Point as the only post at which he
could do justice to himself or be useful to the army. This behavior, so
inconsistent with all that was known of the character of the man, struck
Washington as strange and unaccountable. He had appointed him to the
left wing of the army, because it was a responsible station, requiring
an able and efficient officer, and he believed no one could fill it
better, especially as there was a prospect of fighting, in which branch
of the service Arnold stood preeminent for courage, skill, and good
conduct. He could not conceive, therefore, how such a man, in the heat
of a stirring campaign, could wish to be confined to a garrison, where
there was little scope for his military talents, no room for enterprise,
no chance for action; and it would seem all along as if he did not
regard the hints about the command at West Point as uttered in sober
earnest.
He was now convinced, however, that Arnold really wished for that
command; and, as the news of Sir Henry Clinton's having abandoned his
plan and debarked his troops quickly arrived, and the further march
of the army was thereby rendered unnecessary, and the time of active
operations uncertain, he resolved to comply with his request, and to
appoint another officer to the place designed for him in the main army.
The instructions were dated at Peekskill, on the 3d of August; and
Arnold repaired without delay to the Highlands and established his
head-quarters at Robinson's House, two or three miles below West Point
on the opposite or eastern bank of the river.
Meantime the army retraced its steps, and, crossing the Hudson again at
King's Ferry, moved down towards Hackensac, and encamped with the
centre at Orangetown, or Tappan, the left wing resting on the river
near Dobbs's Ferry, and the right extending into the country. In this
position the army remained for several weeks. The right was commanded
by General Greene, the left by Lord Stirling; and the Light Infantry, a
body of selected troops consisting of six battalions, was stationed in
advance of the main army under the command of the Marquis de Lafayette.
A characteristic incident occurred, when Arnold was about leaving the
army to proceed to the Highlands. He went to Lafayette and suggested
that, as he had spies in New York employed at his own expense, their
intelligence might often reach him more expeditiously by the way of West
Point; and requested that the names and address of those spies might be
entrusted to him, by which means he should be enabled to facilitate the
intercourse. Lafayette objected to the proposal upon the principle,
that he was bound in honor and conscience not to reveal the names of
his spies to any person; but it was not till after the developement of
Arnold's treachery, that he perceived his drift in making the request.