The Daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1845-1850, 1848-10-18
TALLEYRAND AND ARNOLD.

TALLEYRAND AND ARNOLD.
B There was a day when Talleyrand arrived in
Havre, hot foot from Paris, 1t was in the darkest
hour OF the French Revolution. Pursued by the
bloodhounds OF the Reign OF Terror, stripped of
every wreck of property or power, Talleyrand
secured passage to America in a ship about to
SAIL He was going beggar and wanderer to
strange land, to earn mis- bread by daily labor.
SIS there an American staying at your house p
he asked the landlord of his hotel. 81 am bound
to cross the water, and would like letter to some
person OF influence in the New World
The landlord hestated moment and then
said:
There is gentleman up stairs either from
America or Britain, whether an American or an
Englishman, cannot tell.'
He pointed the way, and Talleyrand-whO in
his life was Bishop, Prince and Prime Minister
assembled the stairs. A miserable suppliant he
stood before the strangers door, knocked and en-
tered.
In the far, corner OF dimly lighted room, sat
gentleman OF some fifty years, with his arms
folded, and his head bowed on his breast From
window directly opposite, flood of light pour
ed oveI his forehead. His eyes looked from be-
meath the downcast brows, as he gaZed in Talley.
rand's face with peculiar and searching ex-
preston. His face was striking in its outline,
the mouth and chin indicative OF an iron will
His form, vigorous, even with the SHOWS Of fifty
winters, was clad in dark, but rich and distin-
guished costume.
Tsleyrand advanced-stated that ne was an
American, he solicited his kind and feeling OF
fees.
He poured forth his history in eloquent French
and broken English.
81 am wanderer-an exile. am forced to
fly to the new world without friend or home.
You are an American! Give me then beseech
you letter of yours, that may be able to
earn my bread. | am willing to toll in any man.
ner-the scenes of Paris have filled me with such
horror, that life OF labor would be paradise to
acareer Of luxury in France. You will give me
letter to one OF your friends. A gentleman
like you has doubtless many friends
The strange gentleman rose. With look that
Tdlleyrand never forgot, retrested towards the
door OF the next chamber, his head downcast, his
eyes looked still from beneath his darkened brow,
He spoke as he retreated backward: his voice
was full of meaning
Il am the only man in the New World, who
can raise his hand 10 God and say-I have not
triend-nOt one In all America
Talleyrand never forgot the overwhelming
sadness OF that look which accompanied these
words:
who you!' he cried, as the strange man
retreated towards the next room. sYour name
"My name"-with smile that had more of
mockery than JOY in its CONCLUSIVE expression
"my name is Benedict Arnold
He was gone. Talleyrand sank in chair
gasping the words
"Arnold the traitor! 20
Thus you see he wandered over the earth
another Cain with wanderers mark upon his
brow. Even in that desolated room at that Inn
of Havre, his crimes found him out, and forced
to tell his name-that name the synonyme OF in.
fanny.
The last twenty years of his life are covered
with cloud, from whose darkness but few
CLEANS OF light flash out upon the page OF history
The manner OF his DEATH is not distinctly known
But we cannot doubt that he died utterly friend.
less-that his cold brow was not moistened bv
one farewell tear-that remorse pursued him to
the grave, whispering John Andre in his ears,
and that the memory of his course of glory knaw.
ed like canker at his heart, murmurine forever.
"True to your country, what might Won have
been, 0, Arnold the Traitor %