THE STORY OF ARNOLD'S TREASON.
=233. A Gloomy Outlook for the Patriot Cause in 1780.=--During the long
war of the Revolution from Lexington in 1775 to Yorktown in 1781, there
were many times when it seemed as if it were really of no use for the
Americans to fight for independence. Of these years probably 1780 was
the darkest.
We have just read of the sad disasters in the south during this year. If
"hope long deferred maketh the heart sick," surely our forefathers had
at this time ample cause for discouragement. It seemed to many, no
doubt, that the policy of the British Parliament of "tiring the
Americans out" might succeed after all.
Financial matters were in a deplorable condition. Congress had no
authority to raise money by taxation to carry on the war. Sometimes the
colonies responded to the call for money from Congress; oftener they did
not. There were paper promises enough issued by Congress and known as
continental currency, but they had sadly fallen in value. Washington, it
is said, once remarked that it took a wagon-load of it to buy a
wagon-load of provisions. Samuel Adams tells us that he paid two
thousand dollars for a hat and a suit of clothes.
A tradesman, to show his contempt for it, papered his shop with
continental currency. The current phrase, "not worth a continental," has
survived all these years as a reminder of the deplorable condition of
our finances at this time. No wonder the famishing and half-frozen
soldiers in Washington's army, when paid off in the flimsy stuff, were
mutinous at times, and that the desertions averaged more than a hundred
a month.
=234. Arnold the Traitor.=--In the midst of all the trials of this "year
of disasters," the country was startled by the disclosure of a plot of
the blackest treason. The recklessly brave but unscrupulous Arnold
proved himself a traitor of the deepest dye.
Born in Connecticut, he was early known as "a bad boy." From earliest
childhood he was disobedient, cruel, reckless, and profane, caring
little or nothing for the good will of others. While he was apprentice
to an apothecary he enlisted in the colonial army, but soon deserted.
Afterwards he set up as druggist in New Haven, but wasted the money he
earned and ended the business by becoming bankrupt.
=235. His Brilliant Military Career.=--When the startling news from
Lexington thrilled all the country, Arnold raised a company of soldiers
and was appointed captain. Soon he became colonel and aided Ethan Allen
in the attack on Forts Ticonderoga and Crown Point. Next he was sent to
assist General Montgomery in the assault on Quebec, where he proved
himself a valiant soldier. He received a severe wound in the leg while
gallantly leading his men. For these useful services, Congress made him
a brigadier-general.
Soon after this, Congress bestowed upon five prominent brigadiers the
distinguished rank of major-general, but Arnold was not one of them. He
felt slighted and became very jealous. Washington wrote him a kindly
letter, which partly appeased his wounded vanity.
During the Burgoyne campaign, as we have read, Arnold won special renown
for his splendid bravery at the battle of Saratoga, where he was again
wounded. For his signal valor in this battle he was now made a
major-general. But even this probably failed to satisfy him; for there
were still five others superior to him in rank.
=236. The Beginning of his Wicked Career.=--As his wounded leg needed
rest, Arnold obtained from Washington, in the summer of 1778, the
command of Philadelphia, lately evacuated by the British. During his
nine months there his conduct was bad. His manners were haughty and
insolent. He lived with costly extravagance far beyond his means, drove
a fine coach and four, and gave splendid parties. His associates were
largely among the Tories, and he married a Miss Shippen, a bitterly
disloyal young woman. His intimate friends were now for the most part
the enemies of his country.
Arnold's expensive habits of living soon brought him deeply in debt, and
when the storekeepers urged payment of their bills, he contrived
dishonest methods of obtaining money belonging to the government. Formal
charges of misconduct were made; he was tried, found guilty, and
sentenced to the very mild punishment of a public reproof by the
Commander-in-Chief. This reprimand Washington performed as gently as
possible, sparing his feelings by combining high praise for his past
heroism with censure for his late misdeeds.
Arnold was angry. He had hoped to escape all censure. You may know how
black a villain he was from the fact that, in his speech in court,
defending himself, he spoke of his past services in battle and promised
even more faithful devotion in future to his dear country, which he
said he loved as his own life. It came out afterwards that even then he
had been for months secretly exchanging letters with Sir Henry Clinton,
and plotting how to betray his country! His letters were signed
"Gustavus," and were secretly sent by his wife. The replies from Clinton
purported to be from "John Anderson."
=237. Secretly plans to betray his Country.=--Arnold knew that of all
things Clinton most longed to get possession of West Point; for it was
the key of the river northward up to Lake Champlain, and it also
controlled the crossing between New England and the Middle States.
Arnold studied how to betray it, and by one bad act to satisfy both his
revenge and his greed for money.
The first thing to do was to change the sullenness that had marked his
behavior since the trial. He at once became cheerful, loudly patriotic,
and so eager to help his dear country! Next he contrived to persuade
some prominent officers to induce Washington to appoint him to the
command of West Point. Not suspecting his treachery, Washington gave him
the place. He took command in August, 1780.
=238. Arnold and Andre meet, and plot Treason.=--Now Arnold's plot began
to ripen. But Clinton wanted to be very sure of what he was doing. He
concluded to send a trusty officer to meet Arnold and settle the plan
beyond doubt. So he selected the Adjutant General of his army, a
brilliant young officer, Major John Andre, who knew all about it thus
far, for he was the "John Anderson" who had, under Clinton's directions,
answered the "Gustavus" letters.
On the morning that he started, Andre had a parting lunch with his
fellow officers, with wine-drinking and song-singing--a right jolly
time! Ah! if he could only have foreseen! Andre was an estimable young
man, brave, educated, accomplished, a poet, an artist, and brought up in
the best society of England.
Andre went up the Hudson in the sloop-of-war Vulture. After the moon
went down, and it was dark enough for such a deed, a boat came silently
from the west shore near Haverstraw, and took back from the vessel a
tall young man wrapped in a black cloak. Arnold met him on the bank and
led him into a thicket of fir trees. There, like two ugly spirits of
evil, they crouched in the darkness, and talked over the details of the
dastardly deed.
Arnold, eager for British gold, haggled for a higher price. They plotted
the utter ruin of the patriot cause, till, at the earliest streak of
dawn, boom! boom! sounded some cannon! The traitor was frightened! One
of our shore batteries was firing a few shots at the Vulture, so that
she had to drop down stream a few miles. Andre therefore could not
return directly to the Vulture, but was obliged to remain hidden all
that day.
The plans had all been arranged. Clinton was to send up a fleet with
soldiers to West Point, and Arnold was meanwhile to have removed most of
his troops from the fort on some pretense, so that Clinton's force could
easily capture it. Arnold gave Andre some papers to carry to Clinton,
maps of the fort, with instructions how to approach and take it.
Sir Henry had warned Andre not to receive any papers from Arnold nor to
put on any disguise. Andre for some reason did not obey these orders. He
may have suspected that, after all, some trap was planned to deceive the
British, and thought best to carry back papers in Arnold's own
handwriting. At all events, it was a fatal mistake for poor Andre.
=239. Capture of Andre.=--- Andre wore long riding-boots. Between his
stockings and the soles of his feet he put these papers. He took also a
pass from Arnold to carry him through the guards. The Vulture having
dropped down the river, Andre crossed over and set out on horseback to
go back to New York on the east side.
All went well until he reached the vicinity of Tarrytown. At this time
the region was infested with "cowboys" and "skinners," who under the
pretense of keeping up a partisan warfare for their respective sides
used to steal whatever they could find.
On this morning several men from the American army had been sent out to
look after the "cowboys." As Andre rode along, three of this party
sprang from the bushes, leveled their muskets at him, and ordered him to
halt. They were young men, and their names were John Paulding, David
Williams, and Isaac Van Wart. One of them happened to have on the coat
of a Hessian soldier whom he had captured. This may have misled Andre
and prompted him to make a blunder.
"Gentlemen," said Andre, "I hope you belong to our side."
"Which side?" asked Van Wart.
"The lower party," answered Andre. "I am a British officer on urgent
duty, and hope you will not detain me."
Then the three patriots ordered him off his horse. Andre saw his
mistake. He showed them Arnold's pass, but they insisted on searching
him. They examined his saddle, took off his coat and vest, but finding
nothing wrong, were about to let him go, when Paulding said:--
"Boys, I am not satisfied; his boots must come off."
Andre objected: "his boots were very tight--he must not be
detained--you'll suffer yet for what you are doing."
But off came the boots, and out came the fatal papers!
"Boys, this fine fellow is a spy!" exclaimed Paulding.
[Illustration: CAPTURE OF ANDRE.]
Andre offered his captors his splendid gold watch, his horse, and a
thousand dollars in money, if they would only let him off. The three
common soldiers proved true to themselves and to their great cause and
refused a bribe. Believing their captive to be a spy, they took him to
their commander, Colonel Jameson.
=240. The Arch Traitor makes his Escape.=--This officer made the blunder
of sending a messenger to Arnold with a letter saying a certain John
Anderson had been arrested! The horseman found the arch traitor at
breakfast with several of his prominent officers as his guests. His
beautiful young wife was presiding with charming grace at the table.
Arnold, concealing his terror, left the table, kissed his sleeping babe,
told his fainting wife he might never see her again, seized a horse,
galloped to the river, sprang into a boat, and urged the oarsmen by
their love of money and rum to row him to the Vulture. When the boat
reached the vessel, the traitor was so mean as to hand over the poor
oarsmen as prisoners. But the British captain generously sent them back.
Washington arrived at Arnold's house a few hours after he had escaped,
and when the papers in Arnold's handwriting were shown him, his hand
shook; he was overwhelmed with amazement and sorrow.
Turning to Lafayette, with tears running down his cheeks, and choking
with grief, he cried out:--
"Arnold is a traitor, and has fled to the British! Whom can we trust
now?"
It was only for a moment. The next instant Washington had recovered his
iron self-control.
=241. What became of Arnold.=--Washington contrived an ingenious plan to
capture Arnold, but it failed. The traitor got his reward; he was made a
major-general in the British army and received thirty thousand dollars
for his villany. But the gold turned to ashes in his hands. Everybody
despised him. Men pointed the finger of scorn at him, saying, "There
goes Arnold the traitor."
A member of Parliament, in the midst of a speech saw Arnold in the
gallery, and, pausing, said, "Mr. Speaker, I will not go on while that
traitor is in the house."
Washington had, all the years before, been Arnold's steadfast friend. He
admired one who could fight with such energy, and who never knew fear.
After the treason it is said that Washington could never mention the
traitor's name without a shudder.
"What do you think of the doings of that diabolical dog?" wrote Colonel
Williams, the gallant southern fighter, to General Morgan.
"Curse on his folly and perfidy!" said the noble-hearted General Greene.
"How mortifying to think that he is a New Englander!"
=242. Andre's Sad Fate.=--The three faithful men who captured Andre were
highly honored. Each received a silver medal from Congress, with a life
pension of two hundred dollars a year. Their graves are marked by
worthy monuments.
But poor Andre! what became of him? He was tried within a week by a
court-martial of fourteen generals and condemned to death as a spy.
"We cannot save him," said the kindly old veteran, Baron Steuben. "Oh
that we had the traitor who has dragged this gallant young officer to
death, so that he might suffer in his stead!" Andre wrote a full and
frank letter to Washington, urging that he was not really a spy. All
Americans felt deep pity for him because of his youth, his virtues, his
many accomplishments, his belief that he was serving his country, and
because he had been the victim of a villain.
But Americans could not forget that the British, four years before, had
captured a brave young American officer, Captain Nathan Hale, and hanged
him as a spy without any manifestation of pity or sympathy.
The officer who commanded the escort that brought Andre across the
Hudson to the main army was a college classmate of Hale. As the young
officers rode along on horseback, mention was made of Hale's sad fate.
"Surely," said Andre, "you do not think his case and mine alike!"
"They are precisely alike," answered the officer, "and similar will be
your fate."
Washington, who shed tears when he signed the death warrant, would
gladly have saved Andre's life; but the stern rules of war and the good
of the American cause left no room for mercy. His execution was put off
one day, it is said, in hope that Arnold might be captured and made to
suffer in his stead.
Andre bravely faced the awful event, and on the morning of the day of
his death conversed freely and even cheerfully. He was disturbed only
about the mode of his death; he begged to be shot as a soldier, and not
hanged as a spy; but the grim custom and rules of war forbade.
=243. Arnold dies in Disgrace.=--Arnold lived in London for more than
twenty years after his foul treason. No doubt they were years of bitter
remorse and self-reproach. His wife proved herself a devoted woman.
Arnold's children and grandchildren all felt keenly the disgrace that
rested upon the family.
As the traitor came to his final sickness, his mind seemed to recall the
days when he fought for his country with distinction. He thought of the
steadfast friendship that Washington once cherished for him. After
Saratoga, this friend had presented him with epaulettes and a
sword-knot, and put them on with his own hand. The old uniform in which
he had fought his battles, and which he wore on the day he escaped to
the Vulture, had been carefully kept during all these years of disgrace.
Just before his death the desolate old man called for these sad
reminders and put them on again.
"Let me die," said he, "in this old uniform in which I fought so many
battles for my country. May God forgive me for ever putting on any
other!"
[Illustration: ON HIS DEATHBED ARNOLD CALLS FOR HIS OLD UNIFORM.]
Thus perished the man who, with the exception of Washington and Greene,
prior to his infamous deed, had done perhaps more efficient service for
the cause of our independence than any other American general.
Think of the contrast between the deep infamy of an Arnold and the
patriotic grit and unselfishness of those ragged, half-starved
Pennsylvania soldiers who rose in mutiny during the next winter. Mad
Anthony Wayne had led some of these men at the storming of Stony Point,
and he was dearly beloved by them all; yet they would not obey even him.
As Wayne was speaking to them, two men, who had been sent by General
Clinton to tamper with the mutineers and offer a bounty and high pay if
they would enlist in the British army, were detected. The soldiers in
their wrath turned these emissaries over to their general, and they were
hanged as spies.
"Tell General Clinton," said these men who had not received a cent of
pay to send home to their families for over a year, "that we are not
Benedict Arnolds."