Read Ebook: Life and Treason of Benedict Arnold by Sparks Jared

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him under the odium of a public accusation.

The form of the trial, as notified by the Commander-in-chief, was not acceptable to the Council. They were called on as the accusing party to defend their charges before the court-martial.

President Reed wrote a letter to General Washington, in the name of the Council, expressing surprise that such a turn should be given to the affair, and that they should be looked upon in the light of the prosecuting party. He said it had never been their intention to exhibit charges, but only to convey their sense of the conduct of General Arnold, and to state their reasons. It was no part of their purpose to become prosecutors. Duty required them to make known their opinion to General Arnold's superiors and to the public, but farther than this they did not consider themselves bound to go. And, indeed, they conceived it to be inconsistent with the dignity of the executive authority of a state to appear before a military tribunal and prosecute an individual, who was amenable to another power for his conduct. They thought it the business of Congress, or of the Commander-in-chief, to institute a form of trial, which should put the prosecution upon a different footing. That the course of justice might not be obstructed, however, by points of etiquette or punctilious scruples, they professed a willingness to proceed with the trial, according to the mode appointed by the Commander-inchief, requesting only such delay as would enable them to procure the proper testimony.

As soon as the committee of Congress had reported on the charges submitted by the Council of Pennsylvania, General Arnold resigned his command in Philadelphia. This occurred on the 18th of March, 1779. He had obtained permission of the Commander-in-chief to resign in January, but had deferred it, as he said in his letter to Congress, till the charges should be examined by that body, lest his enemies should misrepresent his motives, and ascribe his resignation to the fear of a disgraceful suspension in consequence of those charges. He was the more disappointed and vexed, therefore, that Congress, instead of calling up and sanctioning the report, yielded to the solicitation of his enemies for a military trial.

The day finally agreed upon for the assembling of the court-martial was the 1st of June. Head-quarters were then at Middlebrook. Unfortunately just at that time the enemy in New York gave indications of a sudden movement, either into New Jersey, or up the North River; and a council of war decided, that the exigency of the service required every officer to be at his post, and rendered it necessary to defer the courtmartial, till, in the judgment of the Commander-in-chief, the state of affairs would permit the members to be assembled. This renewed disappointment was severely felt by Arnold, as there was now but a slender hope, that the trial could take place during the campaign; while he in the mean time would be destitute of employment, and his character must suffer from the suspicions excited in the public mind by the charges, which had been promulgated against him. Patience was his only resource; and, while practising this virtue so adverse to his habits, he had ample leisure to brood over his ills, cherish the bitter recollections of the past, and mature schemes for the future, which opened the way and hurried him onward to his ruin.

Whether weary of a military life, or impelled by his pecuniary necessities, or from whatever cause, it appears that Arnold had actually meditated leaving the army before the difficulties with the Pennsylvania government had assumed the shape of a public censure upon his character. He had formed a project of obtaining a grant of land in the western part of New York, and of establishing a settlement for the officers and soldiers, who had served under him, and for such other persons as might choose to unite in the enterprise. The New York delegation in Congress approved his plan, and wrote a joint letter on the subject to Governor Clinton, soliciting his aid and counsel to obtain suitable patronage from the legislature. "To you, Sir," say they in the letter, "or to our State, General Arnold can require no recommendation; a series of distinguished services entitle him to respect and favor." They likewise represented, on general grounds, the policy of strengthening and guarding the frontier, by such a settlement as was contemplated.

Mr. Jay, then President of Congress, enforced the same application in a private letter to Governor Clinton, "How far his plan may coincide with the views of the legislature," he wrote, "I am at a loss to say. I wish, however, that in treating with him they may recollect the services he has rendered to his country, and the value of such a citizen to any state that may gain him. Several other general officers have thoughts of settling in our state, and the prevailing reason they assign for it is the preference of our constitution to that of other states. They consider it as having the principles of stability and vigor, as well as of liberty; advantages which the loose and less guarded kinds of government cannot promise. It certainly is our interest to encourage these predilections, by attention to those who hold them; and I have no doubt but that generosity to Arnold will be justice to the State." These testimonies show, that there was a division of opinion in Congress, and that Arnold numbered among his friends some of the ablest and best members. The spirit of party never raged with more violence within the walls of the old Congress, than at this period. Arnold's case was doubtless made worse, and his feelings irritated, by this circumstance.

He visited General Washington's camp in February, and it is supposed he extended his journey to the State of New York, and consulted Governor Clinton; but we hear no more of his project. It was absorbed at the time in the more engrossing concerns of his trial, and there was no subsequent opportunity for reviving it.

After resigning his command at Philadelphia, he continued to reside in that city, holding his commission in the army, but filling no public office. Either by the unpopularity of his character, or by his disagreeable manners, he rendered himself odious to the inhabitants, and one day when abroad he was assaulted by the populace. He immediately complained to Congress. "A mob of lawless ruffians," said he, "have attacked me in the street; and they threaten my life, now I am in my house, for defending myself when attacked. As there is no protection to be expected from the authority of the State for an honest man, I am under the necessity of requesting Congress to order me a guard of Continental troops. This request I presume will not be denied to a man, who has so often fought and bled in the defence of the liberties of his country." He asked for a guard of twenty men. Congress declined interfering, and referred him to the executive authority of Pennsylvania, not without a hint of displeasure at the insinuation in his note against the government of that State.

In reply he modified his meaning, and said he did not doubt the disposition of the executive of Pennsylvania to protect honest citizens, but he had no confidence in their ability to do it; since several persons had already been killed and wounded in an affray, notwithstanding the attempts of the civil authority to quell the disturbance. He renewed his request for a guard, and declared his belief, that his life was in danger from a mad, ignorant, and deluded rabble, whose rage and infatuation would drive them to any extreme of violence. As usual, he reminded Congress of his rank and services, and claimed to be protected by the troops, whom it had formerly been his happiness to command. This second application was unavailing, and he was left to such protection as he could obtain from the civil power of Pennsylvania.

The summer and autumn passed away, and his trial was still in suspense. At length, when the campaign was closed, and the army had retired into winter-quarters, General Washington gave notice to the parties concerned, that a court-martial would be assembled on the 20th of December in the vicinity of Morristown. The trial was commenced at that place accordingly, and it continued, with some short intermissions, till the 26th of January, 1780, when the court pronounced their verdict.

Several witnesses and much written testimony were patiently examined. Considering the grave purport of the charges, it must be allowed that the proofs, as they appear in the published proceedings, are not so clear and strong as might have been expected. Arnold's defence was studied, elaborate, and characteristic. He took up, one by one, the eight charges of the Council of Pennsylvania, although four of them only had been referred to the court, and attempted to refute them in detail. On some points he was successful, but, unfortunately for his cause, he weakened the force of his arguments and diminished the value of his facts, by making a parade of his patriotism, services, sacrifices, and wounds, and by enumerating his wrongs imaginary and real. He introduced letters from General Washington and resolves of Congress to show, that his conduct in the war had not only been approved but applauded, and thus aimed to draw the attention of the court aside from the true merits of the case by a series of particulars, which had no connexion with it.

"When the present necessary war against Great Britain commenced," said he, "I was in easy circumstances, and enjoyed a fair prospect of improving them. I was happy in domestic connexions, and blessed with a rising family, who claimed my care and attention. The liberties of my country were in danger. The voice of my country called on all her faithful sons to join in her defence. With cheerfulness I obeyed the call. I sacrificed domestic ease and happiness to the service of my country, and in her service have I sacrificed a great part of a handsome fortune. I was one of the first that appeared in the field, and from that time to the present hour I have not abandoned her service.

"When one is charged with practices, which his soul abhors, and which conscious innocence tells him he has never committed, an honest indignation will draw from him expressions in his own favor, which, on other occasions, might be ascribed to an ostentatious turn of mind. The part which I have acted in the American cause has been acknowledged by our friends and by our enemies to have been far from an indifferent one. My time, my fortune, and my person have been devoted to my country in this war; and, if the sentiments of those, who are supreme in the United States in civil and military affairs, are allowed to have any weight, my time, my fortune, and my person have not been devoted in vain." Again, in another part of his address to the court, after censuring his opponents, he added;--"On this occasion I think I may be allowed to say without vanity, that my conduct from the earliest period of the war to the present time has been steady and uniform. I have ever obeyed the calls of my country and stepped forth in her defence in every hour of danger, when many were deserting her cause, which appeared desperate. I have often bled in it; the marks that I bear are sufficient evidence of my conduct. The impartial public will judge of my services, and whether the returns I have met with are not tinctured with the basest ingratitude. Conscious of my own innocence, and the unworthy methods taken to injure me, I can with boldness say to my persecutors in general, and to the chief of them in particular, that in the hour of danger, when the affairs of America wore a gloomy aspect, when our illustrious General was retreating through New Jersey with a handful of men, I did not propose to my associates basely to quit the General and sacrifice the cause of my country to my personal safety, by going over to the enemy and making my peace."

The boastfulness and malignity of these declarations are obvious enough, but their consummate hypocrisy can be understood only by knowing the fact, that, at the moment they were uttered, he had been eight months in secret correspondence with the enemy, and was prepared, if not resolved, when the first opportunity should offer, to desert and betray his country. No suspicions of such a purpose being entertained, these effusions were regarded as the offspring of vanity and the natural acerbity of his temper. They now afford a remarkable evidence of the duplicity of his character, and of the art with which he concealed the blackest schemes of wickedness under the guise of pretended virtue, and boast of immaculate innocence.

After the trial was finished, the court took due time to consider the testimony, and decided apparently without passion or bias. Of two charges he was wholly acquitted. The two others were sustained in part, but not so far as to imply, in the opinion of the court, a criminal intention. When Arnold was at Valley Forge, a short time before the evacuation of Philadelphia, he gave a written protection for a vessel then at that city to proceed to sea and enter any port within the United States. The vessel belonged to persons, who had taken the oath of allegiance to the State of Pennsylvania. Considering the circumstances of the case, and especially that the vessel was in a port held by the enemy, and that the protection was granted without the knowledge of the Commander-in-chief, who was then in camp, the proceeding was deemed irregular and at variance with one of the articles of war.

Again, while acting in his official station, General Arnold had employed the public wagons of Pennsylvania for the transportation of private property from Egg Harbor. This was looked upon as a serious offence by the Council, and as of a very dangerous tendency, since the demands for this kind of service in transporting supplies for the army were so constant and pressing, as to excite a good deal of repugnance to it in the minds of the people, by whom it must be performed; and, should they receive the impression that their efforts, ostensibly solicited for public objects, were secretly diverted to private purposes, it would be extremely difficult to secure them in times of necessity. On the other hand it was proved to the court, that, although the wagons had been employed for transporting private property, they were nevertheless used at private expense, without any design to defraud the public, or impede the military service. The court were of the opinion, however, that, considering the high station in which General Arnold acted at the time, and the effect of his requests under the circumstances in which he was placed, the transaction was imprudent and improper.

On these grounds, and with reference to these two charges only, the Court sentenced him to be reprimanded by the Commander-in-chief.

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 Andr? 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.

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.

Progress of the Conspiracy on the Part of the British Commander.--Major John Andr?.

Although the correspondence with the enemy had been kept up nearly eighteen months, it had always been under fictitious names by both parties. The epistolary intercourse between Major Andr? and Mrs. Arnold, begun before her marriage and continued after that event, afforded a convenient medium of communication, which Arnold could turn to his purpose without exciting the suspicions even of his wife. His advances were made directly to Sir Henry Clinton, through the hands of Major Andr?; and in this channel the correspondence was conducted to the end. Andr? had the entire confidence of his commander, and was for a time his aid-de-camp, till raised to a higher station. He affixed to his letters the signature of John Anderson, and Arnold assumed the name of Gustavus. They also wrote in a disguised hand, and used other devices to prevent detection.

Without giving any certain clew to his name, rank, or character, Arnold expressed in his first letters a dissatisfaction with the French alliance, and touched upon other topics in such a manner as he thought would please the British commander and attract his attention. He likewise sent intelligence, which proved to be correct and important. The same was repeated at different times, till at length General Clinton's curiosity was awakened, and he employed every method in his power to ascertain the identity of the person, who was opening himself thus freely, and furnishing information of the greatest value. It was obvious, from the nature of his communications, that he was a person of consequence, who had a knowledge of the secret springs of American affairs, and was on terms of intimacy with the leaders. To prevent the possibility of detection, however, should his letters fall into other hands than those for which they were intended, the language was extremely guarded in every thing that related to the situation or person of the writer.

At length, after putting together and weighing a variety of circumstances, Sir Henry Clinton was satisfied, that his hidden correspondent was General Arnold. He had no positive proof, but the evidence was so conclusive in his own mind, that the correspondence was continued upon that supposition. This discovery was not made, or rather this conviction was not settled till subsequently to Arnold's trial by a court-martial; and being then under a sort of disgrace, and not likely again to be employed, the British commander did not look upon him to be of so much importance, whatever might have been his military merits, that it was an object worthy of his attention to bring him over merely as an officer of rank. On the contrary, believing him to be more useful as a correspondent where he was, than he would be when joined to the British army, no tempting encouragements were held out to hasten his desertion.

Things remained in this posture for some time, when the person wrote, that he should certainly be soon employed again in the American service, and made a direct offer to surrender himself, and in such a manner as to contribute every possible advantage to his Majesty's arms. In a few days Arnold took the command at West Point, and the affair then assumed a magnitude and an interest, which it had not hitherto possessed.

General Clinton now saw a prospect before him, and an opening for a successful operation, which claimed his immediate and assiduous care. To get possession of West Point and its dependent posts, with their garrisons, military stores, cannon, vessels, boats, and provisions, appeared to him an object of such vast importance, that in attaining it no reasonable hazard or expense ought to be spared. In the first place, it would bring under his control the navigable waters of Hudson's River, and in some degree facilitate his intercourse with the army in Canada, as well as essentially derange the communication of the Americans between the eastern and middle States. But other results, of much greater consequence, might be anticipated by taking into view the condition of affairs at the present stage of the campaign.

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