September 25, 1780.
Arnold, hearing of the plot being detected, immediately fled to the
enemy. I went in pursuit of him, but was much too late; and could
hardly regret the disappointment, when, on my return, I saw an amiable
woman, frantic with distress for the loss of a husband she tenderly
loved; a traitor to his country and to his fame; a disgrace to his
connections: it was the most affecting scene I ever was witness to.
She, for a considerable time, entirely lost herself. The General went
up to see her, and she upbraided him with being in a plot to murder her
child. One moment she raved, another she melted into tears. Sometimes
she pressed her infant to her bosom, and lamented its fate, occasioned
by the imprudence of its father, in a manner that would have pierced
insensibility itself. All the sweetness of beauty, all the loveliness
of innocence, all the tenderness of a wife, and all the fondness of a
mother, showed themselves in her appearance and conduct. We have every
reason to believe, that she was entirely unacquainted with the plan,
and that the first knowledge of it, was when Arnold went to tell her
he must banish himself from his country and from her for ever. She
instantly fell into a convulsion, and he left her in that situation.
This morning she is more composed. I paid her a visit, and endeavored
to soothe her by every method in my power; though you may imagine she
is not easily to be consoled. Added to her other distresses, she is
very apprehensive the resentment of her country will fall upon her (who
is only unfortunate) for the guilt of her husband.
I have tried to persuade her that her fears are ill founded; but she
will not be convinced. She received us in bed, with every circumstance
that would interest our sympathy: and her sufferings were so eloquent,
that I wished myself her brother, to have a right to become her
defender. As it is, I have entreated her to enable me to give her
proofs of my friendship. Could I forgive Arnold for sacrificing his
honor, reputation, and duty, I could not forgive him for acting a part
that must have forfeited the esteem of so fine a woman. At present she
almost forgets his crime in his misfortunes; and her horror at the
guilt of the traitor, is lost in her love of the man. But a virtuous
mind cannot long esteem a base one; and time will make her despise if
it cannot make her hate.
A. Hamilton.