University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
THE TRAITOR IN A NEW POSITION.

On his arrival in New York, after his disgraceful
desertion from the Americans, Arnold,
as has already been observed, became, for the
time being, the guest of Sir Henry Clinton.
Here he remained for several days, and was
introduced to such of the leading British
officers as chanced to be in the city. His reception
was different by different persons.
Some met him in a friendly manner, but with
a certain air of reserve, which he felt the more
keenly, because, in his heart, he knew himself
to be a villain; others did not scruple to show
plainly, that in their eyes his conduct was
detestible, and that they did not feel bound
to treat him as an equal, even though he had
sacrificed so much for their cause. Sir Henry
was almost the only one who was studiously
polite and attentive; though a close observer
might have detected, that he felt himself compelled
to this course by circumstances and
policy, rather than that he did it through any
affection, sympathy, or even respect for so
base a man.

To one of Arnold's proud, arrogant, domineering
spirit, these silent, intangible rebukes,
were galling in the extreme—the more so, because
they were intangible, and he could
bring no counteracting force against them. A
look of indifference or disgust, a smile of contempt
and scorn, could insult as deeply as vituperative
language, or a blow; but, unlike the
latter, the former did not justify what is
falsely termed an honorable retaliation—that
is, a settlement by steel or lead. In other
words, had they come out openly, and expressed
their thoughts aloud, he might have called
them to a severe account; as it was, he could
do nothing but bear their ill-will in silence;
and this chafed him to the quick, and rendered
his position any thing but enviable.
Doubtless failure in his scheme, and the loss
of the amiable and accomplished Andre—a
loss that was deeply felt by all—for this young
officer was much beloved, and his death, in
one sense, might be laid to Arnold's door—
doubtless this, we say, had much to do with
the feeling manifest in all parties. They felt
they had made an exchange of officers, that
would in nowise be a benefit to the British
army; that they had, in fact, got a vicious man
in place of a virtuous one; and though they
could not bring a crime home to the traitor,
that would justify punishment, yet, in their
eyes, he was no less the criminal, and they
would inflict the only penalty in their power,
which was to make him sensible of their hatred
and scorn.

All this Arnold felt deeply—oh! none know,
but one so fallen, how deeply—and in silence
and secret he suffered far more than did his
victim, even at the foot of the gibbet He
could not but reflect on the high position he
once occupied in the American army—the
colleague, and, in some degree, the confident
of Washington—and on what he now was, a
by-word of disgrace in the mouths of those he
had once despised, or looked upon as beings
far beneath him. Doubtless this, too, had
much to do with his treatment of inferior
officers among the deserters; he felt the galling
need of sympathy; and, as far as lay in
his power, determined to conciliate them, and
get in their good graces; till, haply, such time
as he could resume his reserve and unbending
hauteur with impunity—without the fear
of their saying to his face, with a sneer,
“You are a traitor, we only deserters.”

The first few days of Arnold's abode with
Sir Henry Clinton, before the fate of Andre
was known to be sealed beyond hope, he occupied
much of his time in writing, and causing
to be printed, bombastie proclamations, to
be distributed among the rebels, inviting them
to forsake a sinking cause, and come over to
the standard of King George, the rightful
sovereign of America, promising that all past
offenses should be faithfully forgiven, and
that they should be received, with open arms,
into a service that would award pay, honor,
and glory. But in allowing so base a man to
promulgate so shallow a device, the British
overreached themselves; for among the simpleminded,

but honest American soldiery, its
effect was only uninstigated disgust and derision;
and instead of answering the end for
which it was intended, by creating disaffection,
it only seemed to bind them more strongly
together. True, there were a few unworthy
or timid persons, who embraced his offer; but
these could well be spared from the rest, and
formed no very important accession to the
royal cause. We have seen in what manner
the supposed desertion of Champe was received
by his comrades; and this we hold up as a
fair sample of the general feeling of indignation
which such cowardly doings caused among
those who remained behind. No! they were
men—noble hearts, battling for right against
the wrong—for liberty, not for gold—and they
were ready, even while starving, to yield up
life rather than honor—to be freemen, or be
nothing—to moisten their own soil with their
own blood, rather than live the hirelings of a
foreign despot.

Arnold also wrote several bombastic letters
to Washington and his generals, demanding
the liberation of Andre, and threatening, in
case of non-compliance with his wishes, to
visit his wrath, in the most summary and terrible
manner, upon all such inoffensive citizens
as the fortune of ruthless war might throw
into his hands. But these letters, like his
proclamations, defeated the ends intended for,
and created only disgust, derision, or, what
was still worse for the object he had in view,
determined defiance. Surely, his knowledge
of the brave leaders to whom he addressed
himself, must have been in the most limited
degree, if he did not know that threats, issuing
from whatsoever source, would only the
firmer bind them to their sense of duty, as
strokes of the hammer make more compact
and durable the iron passed beneath it.

Having decided on making New York his
general head-quarters, and learning from Sir
Henry, that in all probability he would have
no active occupation for some time to come,
Arnold expressed a wish to establish a residence
of his own, and send for his family, who,
as the reader knows, had gone to Philadelphia.
Sir Henry readily lent his aid to this new
proposition, and a fine mansion on Broadway
but two or three removed from the one occu
pied by himself, was finally procured, which
Arnold ostentatiously furnished by means of
the gold paid as the price of his own dishonor.
He then removed to his new quarters, and
wrote for his family to join him; but as the
facilities of traveling in those days were very
different from this age of steam, he knew that
a week or two must elapse ere his wife would
become mistress of his household. Meantime
he procured a temporary housekeeper, two
or three servants, and opened in a style of
splendor, that he fancied would give him a
consequence in the eyes of his brother officers,
and tend to do away with the feeling of disgust
he too plainly perceived they felt for
him. But even in this he greatly missed his
calculation; though there were a few selfish
spirits, of inferior rank, who sought his aequaintance,
and professed their friendship,
with a view of making his wine, his suppers,
and other extravagances, compensate them
for the association.

Oh! how fallen must be the man, whose
only friends are purchased with his gold!

Here, then, we again find the traitor, after
his disgraceful flight from the Americans,
firmly fixed among the enemies of his country,
ready to play the sycophant, or tyrant, as
the case might be.

It was about nine o'clock on the morning
following the secret meeting of our friends, as
recorded in the preceding chapter, that Arnold,
in the uniform of a British officer, issued
from his mansion, and mounted a fine, spirited
horse, which his groom was holding by the
bit before his door. Just as he was on the
point of dashing up Broadway, he was hailed
by another horseman, who rode up at an easy
gallop.

“Ah, Colonel Malpert,” said Arnold, “I
am happy to see you—how do you find yourself
this morning?”

“As well as can be expected,” returned
the other, langhing, “after the gallon of wine
you sent me home with in the mid watches.
I say, General, you have the real stuff, and no
mistake, and I have a natural penchant for the
pure juice of the grape. There is a family
tradition, that my mother liked it before I was
born; and certainly I see no reason to disagree

with her taste in that respect. But which
way, General?”

“Why, I thought I would amuse myself,
by riding up to see the review.”

“Well, as I am that way inelined, suppose
we keep each other company?”

“Agreed,” returned Arnold; and the two
rode off together.

The companion of the traitor was a man
about thirty five years of age, tall, well formed,
with a rather handsome countenance, or a
countenance that would have been handsome,
but for the unmistakable lines of loose morality,
and habitual dissipation, which formed its
distinguishing traits. His complexion was
light, with a smooth, clear skin, and his hair
was a shade lighter than light brown. His
eyes were of that peculiar color, of which we
can convey no better idea, than by the term
dissolute blue. They were capable of a very
fascinating expression, and also of an expression
so cold, forbidding, and revengeful, that
very few would care to encounter their owner
when his worst passions were in full play. It
is needless to specify the rest of his features;
they were all fine, regular, and only needed a
different expression from that they usually
wore, to have made them prepossessing in the
extreme.

Colonel Malpert owed the position he held
in the British army, to wealth and influential
connections, rather than to merit. True, he
was brave in battle, even to rashness; but
this is not the only quality requisite to a good
officer. Bravery, and even rashness, may
make a good fighter; but the same reckless
passions displayed in the camp, always prove
injurious to their possessor; and for this reason,
and others we are about to mention,
Colonel Malpert had became very unpopular
among his brother officers; while those immediately
under his command hated him almost
to a man. For some willful neglect of
duty, he had been tried by a court-marshal,
only a few days previous to Arnold's arrival
in the city, and was even now under sentence
of suspension for a month.

And here we see the error of the British
military system, in allowing gold to purchase
rank, which should only be awarded to merit.
A wealthy father has an indolent, profligate
son, whom he is ambitions to have distinguished,
and brought into the first society—to
gain, at a leap, a position which no talent or
merit of his own entitle him to—and forth-with
he purchases him a commission, and he
is at once gazetted to a station he knows nothing
about, and which he is perhaps decidedly
unqualified to fill. Let them laugh at our
republican system, if they will, of making
civil citizens high military officers in a day,
to meet an emergency; we think if they
would look closely at home, they would find
more to condemn there than abroad; for if
we make citizen officers, it is to command
citizen soldiers; while they allow a perfect
numskull, because he has a few dollars to
spend, to take high rank in the regular army,
and lord it over men who secretly pity, hate,
and despise him.

As we have said, Colonel Malpert owed his
position to wealth and influential connections.
His colonelcy had been purchased by his
father, who was a wealthy commoner and
member of parliament; and he had remained
in the army on sufferance—his presence had
been endured, where it was least wanted—and
simply because it was no easy matter to get
rid of him. None who knew him thoroughly,
liked him; and yet the very fewest number
cared to tell him so; for he was an expert
swordsman, and a dead shot, and his revenge
was almost certain to follow an insult. While
stationed in the Indies, he had fought three
duels, and in each case his opponent had been
carried from the field either dead or mortally
wounded. He was profligate in every sense
of the word; and wine, women, and cards
were his favorite means of pastime. He was
a notorious gambler, and a cheat of the lowest
grade. No gentleman who knew him,
could be induced to play with him, for he
was sure to cheat, and, if detected and exposed,
was sure to challenge his exposer, or
otherwise seriously injure him.

Such was the man who had now become,
as it were, the bosom companion of Benedict
Arnold; and we must say, we think they
were well worthy of each other's delectable
society. But base as he was himself, Colonel
Malpert had experienced a decided repugnance

to making the acquaintance of, and placing
himself on terms of intimacy with, a traitor
He had at first held himself coldly aloof from
a baser man than himself; but when he
found that the traitor had money, and that he
was disposed to spend it freely to get into the
good graces of his brother officers, all imperfections,
in his selfish view, were at once removed;
and he proceeded to congratulate
him on the happy change in his fortune, with
as much seeming heartiness as if he really
felt he was a great acquisition to the British
army. Nay, he even went so far as to say,
that he felt himself highly honored by the acquaintance,
and, he hoped, also, he was not
too forward in adding, the friendship of a
gentleman so highly distinguished in the field,
even though that distinction had been acquired
among his enemies.

Whether Arnold saw through his selfish
purpose or not, we shall not pause here to determine.
Being excessively vain, flattery,
from any source, fell upon his ear with a
soothing, delicious effect; and whether the
flatterer were sincere or not, it was policy for
him, in his peculiar situation, to appear to
think so, and make the most of his proffered
friendship, even though that friendship should
cost him dear in the end. Thus both parties,
with a purely selfish view on both sides, established
an intimacy, and apparent friendship
which, under different circumstances,
might never have taken place.

As Arnold and Malpert rode up Broadway,
at an easy pace, they for a time conversed
about some trifling matters, of no interest to
the reader. At length a pause occurred in
the conversation, which was resumed by Malpert,
who spoke as one who had just recalled
to mind something important.

“By the by,” he said, “I hear that you have
written for your wife, who is now in Philadelphia.”

“I have,” replied Arnold.

“How comes it you did not mention the
matter to me? I thought you and I were confidants.”

Arnold glanced furtively at his companion,
and there was an almost imperceptible smile
of contempt around the mouth, but he answered
good naturedly:

“I do not know—I think I did tell you at
the time, I certainly made no secret of it,
since you have learned it from others. But
is it a matter of any impartance?”

“O, no—only I understand she is young,
beautiful, and accomplished.”

“You have never seen her, then?”

“No, I have never had that pleasure. I
was not with that division of our army which
quartered in Philadelphia.”

“I believe she possesses all the qualifications
you have named.”

“Then I shall certainly seek her acquaintance
the moment she arrives.”

“You can not make me jealous, Colonel,”
returned Arnold, laughing; though a close
observer might have detected that the laugh
was not natural, and that the traitor exhibited
certain signs of uneasiness which seemed to
belie his words.

“O, I would not make you jealous for the
world,” rejoined the other, laughing also; “for
nothing is a greater foe to friendship than
Shakspeare's green-eyed monster! But a
truce to this. You play an excellent game of
cards, General, for one who has had a rebel
education—or else your wine works to my
disadvantage—for I find, this morning, that
last night's sitting has left me a hundred
pounds minus.”

“Which another sitting will doubtless retrieve,
and leave you winner of double the
amount,” returned Arnold, with a self-satisfied
smile.

“Well, I will hope for the best,” rejoined
Malpert, gayly “ `Come easy, go easy,' is my
motto.”

At this moment this worthy pair turned the
angle of a large, old building, and came in
full view of the parade-ground, which, for a
time, arrested their attention and conversation.