But, after all, it would be unjust to charge Smith with positive guilt without farther proof; as it is impossible to believe him entirely innocent, without a more satisfactory explanation of his conduct than has yet appeared.
The papers of the court-martial were read by Washington, and then transmitted to Governor Clinton, that Smith might be tried by a civil process under the laws of the State of New York, should such a course be deemed advisable. He was sent to West Point and released from military arrest, but he was immediately taken into custody by the civil authority of the state, and confined in the jail at Goshen. After remaining there several months without any trial, he found means to escape, and passed through the country, sometimes disguised in a woman's dress, to Paulus Hook and New York. At the close of the war he went to England.
Mrs. Arnold resolved to share the lot of her husband. She visited her friends at Philadelphia, and joined him in New York about the middle of November. In her travels through the country, she was everywhere treated with a respect and forbearance hardly to have been expected in the exasperated state of public feeling, which then prevailed; a proof, that, although unfortunate in her alliance with a traitor, she was not considered guilty of participating in his crimes. It is related by M. de Marbois, as a remarkable instance of moderation in the people, that, when on her journey she had stopped at a village to pass the night, where the inhabitants were preparing to burn her husband in effigy, they suspended the execution of their design till the next night, out of delicacy to her sex and situation. It is also said, that, when she entered her carriage in open day to go and join Arnold in the midst of the enemies of his country, no symptoms were exhibited of the detestation in which his name was held even by the lowest populace. This was the more worthy of notice, as his effigy had recently been paraded through the streets of Philadelphia with every mark of infamy, and every demonstration of resentment and contempt.
The case of Captain Nathan Hale has been regarded as parallel to that of Major André. This young officer was a graduate of Yale College, and had but recently closed his academic course when the war of the revolution commenced. Possessing genius, taste, and ardor, he became distinguished as a scholar; and, endowed in an eminent degree with those graces and gifts of nature which add a charm to youthful excellence, he gained universal esteem and confidence.
To high moral worth and irreproachable habits were joined gentleness of manners, an ingenuous disposition, and vigor of understanding. No young man of his years put forth a fairer promise of future usefulness and celebrity; the fortunes of none were fostered more sincerely by the generous good wishes of his associates, or the hopes and encouraging presages of his superiors.
Being a patriot upon principle, and an enthusiast in a cause, which appealed equally to his sense of justice and love of liberty, he was among the first to take up arms in his country's defence. The news of the battle of Lexington roused his martial spirit, and called him immediately to the field. He obtained a commission in the army, and marched with his company to Cambridge. His promptness, activity, and assiduous attention to discipline, were early observed. He prevailed upon his men to adopt a simple uniform, which improved their appearance, attracted notice, and procured applause. The example was followed by others, and its influence was beneficial. Nor were his hours wholly absorbed by his military duties. A rigid economy of time enabled him to gratify his zeal for study and mental culture.
At length the theatre of action was changed, and the army was removed to the southward. The battle of Long Island was fought, and the American forces were drawn together in the city of New York. At this moment it was extremely important for Washington to know the situation of the British army on the heights of Brooklyn, its numbers, and the indications as to its future movements. Having confidence in the discretion and judgment of the gallant Colonel Knowlton, who commanded a Connecticut regiment of infantry, he explained his wishes to that officer, and requested him to ascertain if any suitable person could be found in his regiment, who would undertake so hazardous and responsible a service. It was essential, that he should be a man of capacity, address, and military knowledge.
Colonel Knowlton assembled several of his officers, stated to them the views and desires of the General, and left the subject to their reflections, without proposing the enterprise to any individual. The officers then separated. Captain Hale considered deliberately what had been said, and finding himself by a sense of duty inclined to the undertaking, he called at the quarters of his intimate friend, Captain Hull (afterwards General Hull), and asked his opinion. Hull endeavored to dissuade him from the service, as not befitting his rank in the army, and as being of a kind for which his openness of character disqualified him; adding that no glory could accrue from success, and a detection would inevitably be followed by an ignominious death.
Captain Hale replied, that all these considerations had been duly weighed, that "every kind of service necessary to the public good was honorable by being necessary," that he did not accept a commission for the sake of fame alone or personal advancement, that he had been for some time in the army without being able to render any signal aid to the cause of his country, and that he felt impelled by high motives of duty not to shrink from the opportunity now presented.
The arguments of his friend were unavailing, and Captain Hale passed over to Long Island in disguise. He had gained the desired information, and was just on the point of stepping into a boat to return to the city of New York, when he was arrested and taken before the British commander. Like André, he had assumed a character, which he could not sustain; he was "too little accustomed to duplicity to succeed." The proof against him was so conclusive, that he made no effort at self-defence, but frankly confessed his objects; and, again like André, without further remarks "left the facts to operate with his judges." He was sentenced to be executed as a spy, and was accordingly hanged the next morning.
The sentence was conformable to the laws of war, and the prisoner was prepared to meet it with a fortitude becoming his character. But the circumstances of his death aggravated his sufferings, and placed him in a situation widely different from that of André. The facts were narrated to General Hull by an officer of the British commissary department, who was present at the execution, and deeply moved by the conduct and fate of the unfortunate victim, and the treatment he received. The provost-martial, to whose charge he was consigned, was a refugee, and behaved towards him in the most unfeeling manner; refusing the attendance of a clergyman and the use of a bible, and destroying the letters he had written to his mother and friends.
In the midst of these barbarities, Hale was calm, collected, firm; pitying the malice that could insult a fallen foe and dying man, but displaying to the last his native elevation of soul, dignity of deportment, and an undaunted courage. Alone, unfriended, without consolation or sympathy, he closed his mortal career with the declaration, "that he only lamented he had but one life to lose for his country." When André stood upon the scaffold, he called on all around him to bear witness, that he died like a brave man. The dying words of Hale embodied a nobler and more sublime sentiment; breathing a spirit of satisfaction, that, although brought to an untimely end, it was his lot to die a martyr in his country's cause. The whole tenor of his conduct, and this declaration itself, were such proofs of his bravery, that it required not to be more audibly proclaimed. The following tribute is from the muse of Dr. Dwight.
"Thus, while fond virtue wished in vain to save,Hale, bright and generous, found a hapless grave;With genius' living flame his bosom glowed,And science charmed him to her sweet abode;In worth's fair path his feet adventured far,The pride of peace, the rising grace of war."
There was a striking similarity between the character and acts of Hale and André, but in one essential point of difference the former appears to much the greater advantage. Hale was promised no reward, nor did he expect any. It was necessary, that the service should be undertaken from purely virtuous motives, without a hope of gain or of honor; because it was of a nature not to be executed by the common class of spies, who are influenced by pecuniary considerations; and promotion could not be offered as an inducement, since that would be a temptation for an officer to hazard his life as a spy, which a commander could not with propriety hold out. Viewed in any light, the act must be allowed to bear unequivocal marks of patriotic disinterestedness and self-devotion. But André had a glorious prize before him; the chance of distinguishing himself in a military enterprise, honors, renown, and every allurement, that could flatter hope and stimulate ambition. To say the least, his personal advantages were to be commensurate with the benefit to his country.
But whatever may have been the parallel between these two individuals while living, it ceased with their death. A monument was raised and consecrated to the memory of André by the bounty of a grateful sovereign. His ashes have been removed from their obscure resting-place, transported across the ocean, and deposited with the remains of the illustrious dead in Westminster Abbey. Where is the memento of the virtues, the patriotic sacrifice, the early fate of Hale? It is not inscribed in marble; it is hardly recorded in books. Let it be the more deeply cherished in the hearts of his countrymen.
Narrative of Arnold's Plot communicated by Sir Henry Clinton to the Ministry.—Arnold in New York.—His Expedition against Virginia and New London.
After the return of General Robertson and the other Commissioners to New York, Sir Henry Clinton made still another effort to rescue Major André. He wrote a long letter to Washington, recapitulating the facts and reasonings already advanced, and claiming the release of his adjutant-general. He proposed to exchange for him Lieutenant Governor Gadsden, of South Carolina, who had been taken prisoner, and, with other persons under similar circumstances, sent to St. Augustine, in consequence of their having been detected in a correspondence with General Gates. A statement of particulars was also obtained from Captain Sutherland, respecting the manner in which André came on board the Vulture, and left it in the boat with Smith.
As neither the letter nor the statement contained any thing new, the object in writing them probably was to cause delay by protracting the negotiation. Before they were sent off, however, Major André's servant arrived in New York with the news of his execution; and thus all intercourse on the subject between the two commanders was closed.
Hitherto no hints of this affair had been transmitted to the ministry; but, immediately after the catastrophe, a narrative of all the events was drawn up, signed by Sir Henry Clinton, and despatched to Lord George Germain. It commenced with the first advances made by Arnold, and pursued the train of incidents to the end. All the correspondence, respecting the capture of André and the means used for his release, was interspersed according to the dates of the respective letters.
Conformably to the request of André, his commission was sold by Sir Henry Clinton for the benefit of his mother and sisters. In acquainting the minister with this transaction, he added; "But I trust your Lordship will think that Major André's misfortune still calls for some further support to his family; and I beg leave to make it my humble request, that you will have the goodness to recommend them in the strongest manner to the King for some beneficial and distinguishing mark of his Majesty's favor."
The papers were laid before the King by Lord George Germain, who replied to Sir Henry Clinton as follows.
"His Majesty has read with much concern the very affecting narrative of Major André's capture, and the fatal consequences of that misfortune related in your letter; and his Majesty was graciously pleased to express his entire approbation of your having complied with his request of disposing of his commission for the advantage of his family. And I have the satisfaction to add, that his Majesty has further extended his royal bounty to Major André's mother, by the grant of a pension, and has offered to confer the honor of knighthood on his brother, in order to wipe away all stain from the family, that the ignominy of the death he was so unjustly put to might be thought to have occasioned. The beneficence of our gracious sovereign will thereby console the family for their private misfortune; but the public can never be compensated for the disappointment of the vast advantages, which must have followed from the success of your plan, which Major André's capture prevented. Nothing could have been more judiciously concerted; and, from the proof Mr. Arnold has since given of his sincerity, there is no reason to doubt it could have failed in its execution, especially as you proposed conducting it in person."
The generous sentiments and noble conduct of the King, both in regard to the memory of André and the tokens of substantial kindness to his family, claim and must ever receive the highest applause. But the countenance shown to Arnold, the approbation of his infamy, and the distinctions and favors conferred upon him, will be viewed in a much more questionable light. If policy and military custom extend protection to a deserter, they can never demand nor even justify caresses to a traitor.
It was doubtless proper for Sir Henry Clinton to fulfil the promises he had made, and submit to the sacrifice with as good a grace as he could, notwithstanding the utter disappointment of all his expectations. He wrote to the minister; "I have paid to that officer six thousand three hundred and fifteen pounds sterling, as a compensation for the losses, which he informs me he has sustained by coming over to us. I make no doubt, that the expense will be cheerfully submitted to." It was gratuitous to charge this reward of treachery to the score of losses. Arnold's creditors were the chief losers by his defection, unless he set a large price upon the diminution of his rank, being appointed colonel of a regiment in the British service, with the brevet of brigadier-general.
Arnold had been but a few days with his new friends, when he published anAddress to the Inhabitants of America, attempting to explain and vindicate the course he had pursued. Considering the cause he undertook to defend, it is no wonder that he should say little to the purpose. Abuse of Congress and of the French alliance was the principal theme of his discourse. "To the thousands," said he, "who suffer under the tyranny of the usurpers in the revolted provinces, as well as to the great multitude who have long wished for its subversion, this instance of my conduct can want no vindication; and as to that class of men, who are criminally protracting the war from sinister views, at the expense of the public interest, I prefer their enmity to their applause. I am therefore only concerned to explain myself to such of my countrymen, as want abilities or opportunities to detect the artifices by which they are duped." Having thus defined the description of persons for whom his address is intended, he proceeds to his defence.
Conceiving the rights of his country in danger, at the beginning of the contest, he thought it his duty to take up arms for their protection, but he aimed only at a redress of grievances. The declaration of independence was a measure, which at the time he believed precipitate, although he acquiesced in it; but all the reasons for this measure, however plausible when it was adopted, were completely removed by the subsequent proffers of the British government. The refusal to accede to these terms he ascribed to the tyrannical use of power in Congress, who studiously avoided submitting them to the people, and resisted every advance towards a negotiation.
The suspicions excited in his patriotic breast, by these and other indications of the temper and views of Congress, were more than confirmed when the treaty with France was ratified. He was shocked to find his country, by the folly and duplicity of its pretended leaders, thus tied to its "proud, ancient, and crafty foe, the enemy of the Protestant faith, who fraudulently avows an affection for the liberties of mankind, while she holds her native sons in vassalage and chains." His virtuous spirit could not brook such an enormity. From that hour he resolved to abandon a cause, sustained by iniquity and controlled by usurpers, in which he could no longer act with that pure and disinterested aim for the public good, which had always been the ruling motive of his conduct. He retained his arms and command only for a suitable opportunity to surrender them to his King in such a manner, that he might accomplish an event of decisive importance with the least effusion of blood.
"With respect to that herd of censurers," said he in conclusion, "whose enmity to me originates in their hatred to the principles by which I am now led to devote my life to the reunion of the British empire, as the best and only means to dry up the streams of misery, that have deluged this country, they may be assured, that, conscious of the rectitude of my intentions, I shall treat their malice and calumnies with contempt and neglect." Such was the tenor of Arnold's Address to his former fellow citizens of the United States. His next performance was aProclamationto the officers and soldiers of the Continental army, particularly those who had "the real interest of their country at heart, and who were determined to be no longer the tools and dupes of Congress and of France." All such he invited to come over to the King's standard, holding out as a temptation, that they should be clothed, subsisted, and paid like the other troops in the British service, and receive the value of any horses, arms, or accoutrements, which they might bring with them. A bounty of three guineas was offered to every non-commissioned officer and private. Officers were to obtain rank in proportion to that which they had formerly held, and to the number of men who should accompany them. It was expected, that a colonel would bring with him or recruit in a reasonable time seventy-five men, a major fifty, a captain thirty, and a lieutenant fifteen. They were moreover to have the inestimable privilege of fighting for "true American liberty," which had so long been denied to them by their oppressors.
In its other topics the proclamation was little else than a repetition of the address. Abusive epithets were profusely applied to Congress and the French. The soldiers were told, that they had been robbed of their property, imprisoned, and dragged against their will to the field of battle; that they were the prey of avarice, the scorn of their enemies, and the pity of their friends; that America had become a land of widows, orphans, and beggars; and that no security any longer remained even for the consolations of that religion, for which their fathers had braved the ocean, the heathen, and the wilderness. Rising in the climax of absurdity, he goes on to say; "can you at this day want evidence, that the funds of your country are exhausted, or that the managers have applied them to their own private use? In either case you surely can no longer continue in their service with honor or advantage. Yet you have hitherto been their supporters in that cruelty, which, with an equal indifference to yours, as well as the labor and blood of others, is devouring a country, that, from the moment you quit their colors, will be redeemed from their tyranny."
By appeals like these were the American soldiers called upon to desert their country, and rally under the banner of a traitor, who had sought the ruin of themselves, their friends, and the cause for which they had long borne arms and often exposed their lives. Such appeals would appear incredible even from so desperate and degraded a man, had not the infirmity of his understanding already been proved to be on a level with the depravity of his heart. The only wonder is, that a measure of such imbecile malevolence and hopeless folly should be sanctioned by the British commander, and published from day to day in the gazettes issued under his authority. How was it possible for him not to perceive, that the effect would be contrary to his interests and wishes? Who would join a traitor? Who would deliberately seek disgrace and infamy? And, above all, who would be cajoled by falsehood and malignity, as undisguised as they were audacious and wicked?
Well informed as to the actual condition, principles, and feelings of the American soldiers, and aware that his proclamation would only excite indignation and disgust, Arnold adopted another expedient to keep his new friends in good humor, and convince them that in him they had gained an important acquisition. He represented to Sir Henry Clinton, that the bounty was much too small, and recommended an increase to ten guineas. He said the American soldiers were chiefly prevented from deserting, by the loss they would sustain in forfeiting their arrears of pay, which had now become large, on account of the poverty of the country and the wretched state of the American finances. Ten guineas he thought would dissolve this tie, and bring over as many deserters as could be desired.
As the bounty was prescribed by the government, and Sir Henry had no authority to allow more than three guineas, Arnold immediately wrote to the ministry, and laid his proposition before them, supporting it by such arguments as he could draw from his invention. In replying to Sir Henry Clinton on the subject, Lord George Germain said he did not think the amount of the proposed sum an objection to it, considering the vast importance of increasing the British army by a corresponding diminution of that under Washington; but he foresaw a very serious evil in the operation of the scheme, since it would tempt deserters to come over for the sake of the bounty, who, having pocketed the ten guineas, would find their way back again as soon as possible to the American camp. To avert this consequence, the minister suggested, that no more than the usual sum of three guineas should be paid at first, and the remaining seven when the regiment, to which the deserter was attached, should be reduced, or at the end of the war. Officers he thought should be liberally rewarded, especially if they brought with them the men they had before commanded.
Many were supposed to be deterred from desertion by the fear of recapture. To obviate this difficulty, a project was set on foot for organizing them into regiments to be employed in the West Indies, or on the Spanish Main. This was favorable to Arnold's views, and it was approved by the King. No harm could result from it; and nearly the same benefits would accrue, as if they were engaged immediately under Sir Henry Clinton, since it would enable him to draw from the West Indies a corresponding force. But why it should be thought, that an American soldier would be allured from his home by the bounty of ten guineas and the almost certain prospect of finding a grave in a tropical climate, is not apparent. The experiment seems never to have been tried.
In short, there is no evidence that Arnold met with any success in his attempts to recruit from the American army. A few deserters and refugees, already within the British lines and not united with any corps, and particularly officers desirous of place and employment, nominally constituted his regiment, which was never so far completed as to be known either for its numbers or exploits.
The sentiments of the British cabinet, in regard to the defection of Arnold, may be gathered from the minister's first letter to him after that event.
"I have the pleasure to acquaint you," says Lord George Germain, "that his Majesty was graciously pleased to express his satisfaction in the demonstration you have given of the sincerity of your return to your allegiance, and of your earnest desire to atone for past errors by a zealous attachment to his royal person and government in future. And his Majesty has been graciously pleased to command me to signify to Sir Henry Clinton his royal approbation of the rank he has given you in the army under his command, and of his having appointed you to raise a corps.
"The intelligence transmitted in both of your letters shows the resources of Congress to be nearly exhausted, and their cause universally sinking, notwithstanding the boasted succors of their ally; and I am fully persuaded, that, were any disgrace at this time to happen to Mr. Washington's army, the inhabitants of many of the provinces would declare their wishes for peace with Great Britain, by returning to their allegiance; and it is the most distant from the intention of the King and of Parliament to abridge those liberties essential to their interests and happiness."
The nature of the intelligence, which afforded so much encouragement to the minister, is no further indicated. It is enough to know, however, that it was false and deceptive, and produced a mischievous influence. Misled by an erroneous impression, thus communicated, of the strength of the American army, and the condition and temper of the people, and willing to foster the smallest germ of hope, the ministry relaxed from exertion, at a moment when the full exercise of all their energies was most necessary. The man, now their friend and a faithful subject of the King, but who had been in a high station with the enemy from the beginning of the war, and a principal actor, they took it for granted must be well informed; and, strange to tell, they relied on his veracity. The consequences were severely felt by the British commander, who, in the bitterness of his disappointment, afterwards complained of this facility of faith and easy confidence on the part of his superiors.
Arnold made such slow progress in recruiting his regiment, that he was impatient for more active service. Two months after he joined the British, he was appointed to the command of an expedition against Virginia, consisting of sixteen hundred effective troops. General Leslie had recently sailed from the Chesapeake, with the detachment under his command, to unite with Lord Cornwallis in the Carolinas. It was thought important to send another detachment to take his place in the waters of Virginia, and thus create a diversion in that quarter in, favor of Cornwallis, and prevent the Virginia troops from marching to the aid of General Greene.
At the head of this division Arnold sailed from New York about the middle of December. In addition to his general directions to invade the country wherever an opportunity presented itself, he was particularly instructed to establish a post at Portsmouth on Elizabeth River, and to prepare materials for constructing a number of boats to be used in Albemarle Sound, and afterwards in the waters of the Chesapeake, when the season should be too far advanced for acting farther southward. He was also directed to assemble and arm the loyalists, but not to encourage any to join him, till there should be the fairest prospect of protecting them.
Sir Henry Clinton proceeded with more caution than the ministry. He was not prepared to put implicit trust in a man, who had shown himself such an adept in the arts of dissimulation, so destitute of principle, and so regardless of honor. Colonel Dundas and Colonel Simcoe, two officers of tried ability and experience, and possessing the entire confidence of their commander, were sent in the expedition; and Arnold was expressly ordered not to adopt any measure, nor to undertake any important operation, without first consulting them and obtaining their approbation.
A violent gale separated the fleet in which the detachment was embarked, but the scattered vessels united at the capes of the Chesapeake and entered Hampton Road on the 30th of December; except one armed ship and three transports, with upwards of four hundred men on board, which did not arrive till five days later. One half of the cavalry horses were lost, and several of the large guns were thrown into the sea to prevent the vessels from foundering.
Without waiting for the arrival of the transports that were missing, Arnold pushed up James River with his fleet aided by wind and tide, and immediately found himself in the heart of the country. His effective force consisted of about twelve hundred men. The burnings and plunderings, the destruction of public and private property, the ravages and distresses, which marked all his movements, were consistent with his character, and such as were to be expected. The inhabitants were not prepared for so sudden an invasion; the militia could not be rallied in time to resist it. A small force was assembled under Baron Steuben, on the south side of James River, but too distant to act efficiently till it was too late. After striking at every assailable point, Arnold called his troops back to the ships, descended the river, and took his station at Portsmouth.
The attempts to defeat and capture him in that post; the spirited and well conducted enterprise under Lafayette; the French naval armament sent from Newport, and commanded by M. de Tilly; the more formidable one under M. Destouches; his rencounter with the fleet of Admiral Graves; the movements of General Phillips's detachment of British troops; and the subsequent operations in Virginia; all these are matters of history and not suited to the present narrative.
Strong hopes were entertained by Washington, that Lafayette in concert with M. de Tilly would succeed in seizing Arnold, before any reinforcement could arrive from New York; but these hopes were disappointed by incidents, that could not have been foreseen or prevented. After entering Hampton Road, M. de Tilly found the depth of water in Elizabeth River not sufficient to receive his ships. Arnold was therefore beyond his reach at Portsmouth; and the detachment of Lafayette could not act without a naval superiority in the Chesapeake.
Had Arnold been captured, it was the intention of Washington, that he should be immediately executed; and in his instructions to Lafayette, he enjoined it upon him to admit no terms of capitulation, which should screen a traitor from the punishment justly due to his crimes. Several weeks afterwards, when, upon the death of General Phillips, the command of the British troops in Virginia devolved temporarily upon Arnold, he attempted to correspond with Lafayette, and sent an officer to him with a flag of truce. When Lafayette opened the letter, and saw Arnold's name at the bottom, he refused to read it, saying to the officer that he would hold no correspondence whatever with him. Lord Cornwallis told Lafayette afterwards, that, as soon as he joined the army in Virginia, he took the first occasion to send Arnold down to Portsmouth, and expressed disgust at the idea of associating with a person of his character.
It was during this expedition, that Arnold asked a captain, who had been taken prisoner, what he thought the Americans would do with him, if he should fall into their hands. "They will cut off the leg," replied the officer, "which was wounded when you were fighting for the cause of liberty, and bury it with the honors of war, and hang the rest of your body on a gibbet."
While these things were going on, Sir Henry Clinton received a letter from Lord George Germain, little suited to increase his respect for the judgment, good sense, or honesty of his new American brigadier. Among other inventions to please the ministry, Arnold had represented the facility with which West Point might be taken, if not by acoup de main, yet by a few days' regular attack, and had proposed a sort of plan for that object. Lord George Germain expressed some degree of surprise, that the British commander had not undertaken the business, or at least mentioned his intention of doing it. "Such is the present state of Great Britain," said he, "that every possible means must be employed for the reduction of the rebellion," and he urged a serious consideration of the subject.
These suggestions, to say the least, were a tacit censure upon Sir Henry Clinton, for his want either of discernment or enterprise. He felt their force, and could not entirely conceal his displeasure. In his reply, however, he proved the folly of the scheme, and the impossibility of its execution, according to his view of the state of affairs, with the reduced force then at his command. "As to Major-General Arnold's opinion," he observed, "I can only say, that, whatever he may have represented to your Lordship, nothing he has as yet communicated to me on the subject has convinced me that the rebel posts in the Highlands can be reduced by 'a few days' regular attack.' But if he convinces me now, in the present reduction of the rebel army, that such a thing is practicable, (for to fail would be death to our cause in the present state of the war,) I shall most likely be induced to make the attempt. I have therefore required that general officer to send his plan of operation to me without delay, and to follow or accompany it himself." This was written on the 5th of April, 1781, and Arnold returned, a few weeks afterwards, to New York, thus escaping the fate that might otherwise have awaited him at Yorktown.
How he explained himself to Sir Henry Clinton is not known. We hear no more of the project against West Point, and Arnold seems to have remained in idleness during the summer.
Early in September, however, an enterprise was set on foot, which, from his knowledge of the place of action and other circumstances, he doubtless originated. At New London were deposited public stores; and private property to a considerable amount was known to be on board the vessels in the harbor, feebly defended by Fort Trumbull on one side of the river, and Fort Griswold on the other. Here was an opportunity, too tempting to be resisted, for gaining plunder, gratifying a vindictive spirit, and rendering a service to the cause, which he had espoused, and in aid of which he had hitherto done so little either to sustain his military reputation, or mark the value of his dearly bought allegiance.
Departing from the opposite shore of Long Island, with a force adequate to the undertaking, he crossed the Sound, and landed his troops in two divisions at the mouth of the river. One division marched towards New London, took Fort Trumbull, and entered the town. The other, passing up the east side of the river, ascended the high grounds to Fort Griswold, which, after a short but sanguinary conflict, was carried at the point of the bayonet.
The details of these tragical scenes have often been described, and need not here be recapitulated. New London was reduced to ashes. Several vessels in the harbor shared the same fate. Others escaped up the river towards Norwich. The brave Colonel Ledyard, who commanded in Fort Griswold, was slain by his own sword, when he gave it into the hands of the officer, who headed the assailing party; and many of his companions in arms, inhabitants of the little village of Groton, who had assembled at a moment's warning to defend their homes and their firesides, were butchered in cold blood after the fort was surrendered.
It has been said, that Arnold, while New London was in flames, stood in the belfrey of a steeple, and witnessed the conflagration; thus, like Nero, delighted with the ruin he had caused, the distresses he had inflicted, the blood of his slaughtered countrymen, the anguish of the expiring patriot, the widow's tears and the orphan's cries. And what adds to the enormity is, that he stood almost in sight of the spot where he drew his first breath; that every object around was associated with the years of his childhood and youth, and revived those images of the past, which kindle emotions of tenderness in all but hearts of stone; that many of the dying, whose groans assailed his ears, and of the living, whose houses and effects he saw devoured by the flames, were his early friends, the friends of his father, his mother, his family; and, in short, that these wanton acts of barbarity were without provocation on the part of the sufferers, and not less iniquitous in the motives whence they sprang, than shocking to humanity in themselves.
This was the last exploit of Arnold in his native country. It was indeed the closing scene of his military and public career. And he had done enough. Nothing more was necessary to unfold his character in all the variety of its resources and depth of its depravity, or to convince the world, that, when a man once abandons himself to his passions, contemns the counsels of wisdom and virtue, sears his conscience, confounds duty with selfishness and honor with revenge, the descent is easy and rapid to that state in which he is the object, not more of the reproach and scorn of mankind, than of their pity and contempt.
Arnold sails for England.—Anecdotes.—His Residence at St. John's, and in the West Indies.—His Death.
The capitulation at York town having virtually put an end to the war, and Arnold finding himself neither respected by the British officers, nor likely to be further employed in the service, obtained permission from Sir Henry Clinton to go to England. He sailed from New York with his family in December, 1781. Sir Henry gave him a letter of introduction to Lord George Germain, mentioning his "spirited and meritorious conduct since he had joined the British army," and commending him to his "Lordship's countenance and protection"; but, forbearing to recount the instances of his worthy deeds, he referred the minister on that head to the tenor of his previous correspondence.
Although Arnold lived twenty years after this date, yet so entirely did he sink out of notice, that hardly an incident respecting him has been related or remembered. Happily no one will regret the blank. All that can be ascertained, in regard to his subsequent history, may be gathered from half a dozen anecdotes. Some of these are characteristic; others show in what utter disgrace he was held by the whole world.
At the time he was about to sail from New York, two Scotch officers, wishing to return to England, requested a passage in the same vessel. The captain told them, that General Arnold had taken the whole cabin for himself and family, and that there was no more room for passengers; but, if they could make an arrangement with him, there would be no other obstacle. They accordingly consulted Arnold, who agreed to receive them into the cabin. Nothing further was said on the subject, till the vessel arrived in London. The Scotch gentlemen then went to the captain, and offered to pay for their passage, but he declined taking the money, and referred them to Arnold. He did not see them again, till they departed for Scotland. When Arnold came to pay his bill, he insisted that the proportion for their passage should be deducted. To this the captain would not consent, alleging that he had no claim upon the officers, and requiring a fulfilment of his contract. As this could not be evaded, Arnold was obliged to pay the demand, but he persuaded the captain to draw on the two officers, in favor of Arnold, and in his own name as captain of the ship, for their passage money. The draft came back protested. Arnold prosecuted the captain, and recovered the amount. It had also been paid to him by the officers before they left London.
It has been seen in the preceding narrative, that the horse on which Arnold rode in the second battle of Behmus's Heights was shot under him, just as he was entering the Hessian redoubt. The animal was a beautiful Spanish horse, which had formerly belonged to Governor Skene, but was now the property of Colonel Lewis, and borrowed by Arnold for the occasion. A short time after the action, Colonel Lewis called on him, and requested a certificate of the horse having been killed, that he might obtain the value of him, according to usage, from the public treasury. Arnold declined giving the certificate, saying it would have an ill appearance for a major-general to sign a certificate for a horse, that had been shot under him in battle. Lewis said no more, till Arnold was about to leave the camp, when he again went to him, and insisted on being allowed a proper compensation for the loss of his horse. Arnold still assigned motives of delicacy for refusing a certificate, but told Lewis that he had a fine Narraganset mare in the public stables, which he would give him in the place of his horse, and immediately wrote an order to the keeper of the stables, directing him to deliver the mare into the hands of Colonel Lewis. Meantime Arnold went off, and two or three days afterwards the order was presented. The keeper said there was no mare belonging to General Arnold in the stables; that there had been one of that description some time before, but she was sold to another officer, who had taken her away. It was subsequently ascertained, that Arnold sent in a certificate, and received pay from the government for the horse that had been shot.
Nor was this the end of the affair. When he was on the point of sailing for England, he borrowed two hundred dollars from a Captain Campbell in the British service, for which he gave an order on Colonel Lewis, telling Campbell that Lewis owed him for a mare purchased three years before, and that, as he was about to leave the country, and should not have an opportunity to collect the debt, it would be a convenience to him if Campbell would undertake that small service. Captain Campbell, having been acquainted with Colonel Lewis before the war and expecting to see him again, took the order as an equivalent for his two hundred dollars. When the news of peace arrived in New York, a passport was obtained from General Washington by the British commander, for a person to proceed through the country with the intelligence to the Governor of Canada. Captain Campbell was the bearer of the message, and on the way he visited his friend Lewis in Albany, and presented Arnold's order. Their mutual surprise may be imagined, both having been equal sufferers by this refinement of knavery.
Although the King, and a few persons in authority, were obliged from policy to take some notice of Arnold, after he went to England, yet he was shunned and despised by every body else. It is said, that when the petition for a bill authorizing a negotiation of peace was presented to the King in the usual form by Parliament, Arnold was standing near the throne, apparently in high favor with the sovereign. Lord Lauderdale is reported to have declared, on returning to the House, "that however gracious might be the language he had heard from the throne, his indignation could not but be highly excited at beholding his Majesty supported by a traitor." At another time, when Lord Surry had risen to speak, seeing Arnold in the gallery, he sat down quickly, pointing to him and exclaiming, "I will not speak while that man is in the House."
He occasionally by accident met his countrymen, who uniformly treated him in the most slighting and contemptuous manner. An officer of rank in the American army, who had known him in early life, was in London. Arnold called at the door of his lodgings, and sent in his name. "Tell the gentleman I am not at home," said the officer to the servant, "and never shall be for General Arnold."
Not long after the war, he took up his residence at St. John's, in New Brunswick, and resumed his old profession of a merchant, engaging principally in the West India trade. It is believed that the government granted him facilities, in the way of contracts for supplying the troops in Jamaica with provisions. At any rate he carried on a thriving and extensive business at St. John's, building ships on his own account and sending them to the West Indies.
His style of living was ostentatious and profuse, exhibiting more splendor than was usual in provincial towns, and thus enabling him to associate on terms of intimacy with the higher classes; but he contrived to make himself odious to the people, not less by his haughty deportment, than by his habits of dishonesty in business. The inhabitants of St. John's were principally refugees from the United States, who had settled there at the close of the war.
An incident happened, which had a tendency to increase the strong feeling of distrust and aversion, with which he had from the first been regarded. He had in use two warehouses. Upon one of these, which was supposed to be filled with goods, he procured an insurance for a large amount. It took fire in the night, and was burnt to the ground with all its contents. Arnold was himself absent on a voyage to England. Two of his sons slept in the warehouse, and were there when the flames broke out, but could give no account of the manner in which the fire was communicated. The circumstances of the case induced a suspicion, that the goods had been insured much above their value, and that the building was intentionally set on fire.
So many particulars favored this construction, that the insurers refused to pay their bonds. Arnold prosecuted them on his return from England, and a trial ensued, in which many witnesses were examined; but no proof was produced to establish the charge of design in setting the fire, and he recovered the full value for which the goods had been insured.
The judicial decision did not accord, however, with public sentiment, and the populace resolved to express their sense of the transaction in a manner, that could not be misunderstood. They made an effigy, which they calledThe Traitor, and hung it in a conspicuous place, so that it could be seen from Arnold's windows. A concourse of people was gathered around it, when a magistrate appeared among them and read the riot act. This dispersed or quieted them for the moment, but they soon reassembled, and exposed the effigy anew. The military at last interfered, and put an end to the proceedings, but not till the people had effected their object, and committed to the flames the symbol of their indignation; and indeed it may be supposed, that neither the magistrates nor the military were over-earnest to suppress the popular feeling on this occasion.
How long Arnold continued at St. John's is uncertain. He went back to England, where he resided the rest of his life, though he was sometimes absent on business in the West Indies. When the war with France commenced, he petitioned for employment in the army; but, as no officers would serve or associate with him, the petition could not be granted. A single adventure will include all that remains to be told of him.
He was at Point Petre, in Guadaloupe, engaged in commercial pursuits, when that Island, which had fallen under the power of the English, was retaken by the French. Having acted as an agent to furnish provisions for the British troops in the West Indies, chiefly obtained through a circuitous channel from the United States, he had accumulated a good deal of money, which was then in his possession. Fearful that it might be taken from him, or at least doubtful what treatment he would meet with if discovered, he assumed the name of Anderson. With other persons he was put on board a French prison-ship in the harbor. A sentinel told him, that he was known and exposed to great hazard.
Alarmed at this intelligence, he immediately formed a plan to escape. His ingenuity and resource had seldom failed him in cases requiring promptness of decision, and they proved equally true to him at the present critical juncture. He enclosed his treasure in an empty cask, which he let down into the sea as soon as it was dark, and the waves carried it ashore near the place where the English were encamped. He likewise took the precaution to put a letter into the cask, stating that the property belonged to him, and was to be given up when demanded. In the middle of the night he silently descended the side of the ship, and placed himself upon a raft of planks prepared for the purpose, with which he had the good fortune to reach a small boat moored at some distance. He then rowed towards the English fleet, guided by the lights on board. Although hailed by a French guard-boat, he escaped under the cover of darkness, and at four o'clock in the morning was safe on the deck of a British vessel.
Shortly after this adventure, Arnold returned again to England. He died in London, June 14th, 1801, aged sixty-one years.