Staunton spectator, and general advertiser. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 183?-1849, 1848-04-05
NJ | S C e l. l. A N Y.
ARNOLD THE TRAITOR.

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
blood hounds of the Reign of Terror, stripped Of
every wreck of property or power, Talleyrand Sc
cured passage 10 America in ship about to sail
He was going beggar and wanderer to strange
land, TO earn his bread by daily labor.
els there an American staying at your house ?"
he asked the landlord of his hotel-'.I am bound to
cross the water, and would like letter to some
person of influence in the New World"
The landlord hesitated moment, and then re-
Piled
"There is gentleman up stairs, either from A
merica or Britain, but whether an American or
Englishman | cannot tel.'
lie pointed the way, and Talleyrand-who in
his life was Bishop, Prince, Prime Minister-as-
cended the stairs. A miserable suppliant, he stood
before the strangers door, knocked and entered
In the far corner of dimly lighted room, sat
gentleman OF some htty years, his arms folded and
his head bowed OH his breast. From wndowNdl-
rectly opposite flood of light poured his fore
head His eyes looking from beneath the down
cast brows, gazing in Talleyrand's face with Pc
culiar and searching expression. His face was
striking in its outline the mouth and chin ndica-
tive of an iron will
His form, vigorous even with the SHOWS of fifty
winters, was clad in a dark but rich and distin-
guished costume.
Talleyrand advanced-stated that he was fu
gitve-and under the impression that the gentle
man before him was an American, he solicited his
kind feeling offices.
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 a friend or hope
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 manner
the scenes Of Paris have filled with such horror
that life of labor would be Paradise to career
of luxury in France You will give me letter to
of your friends. A gentleman like you has
doubtless many friends"
The strange gentleman rose. With look that
Talleyrand never forgot, he retreated towards the
door of the next chamber, his head still downcasi
his eyes still looking from beneath his darkened
brow. He spoke as he retreated backward his
voice was full of meaning:
81 am the only man born in the New Worlt
| that can raise his hand to God and say hare no
one friend-not one--in all .4mcrica ~
Talleyrand never forgot the overwhelming sad
ness Of that look which accompanied these words.
"Who are you ?" he cried as, the strange mar
! retreated towards the next room. ''i our name p
| "My name'-with smile that had more mock
cry than JOY in its convulsvo expression, -"My
name is Benedict .arnold."
He was gone. 1alleyrand sank in chair gasp
ing the words
".arnod the Traitorp'
| Thus you see he wandered over the earth, ano
ther Cain with murderer's mark upon his brow
Even in the secluded room at that inn at Havre
his crime found him out, and forced him to tell hi:
name-tbat name the synonyme of infamy.
The last twenty years Of his life are covered
with a 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 not moistened by ON
farewell tear-that remorse pursued him to tn
grave. whispering John Andre in his ears, AM
that the memory of his course of glory euawed lik
a canker at his heart, murmuring forever, "Tru
to your country, what might you have been, o Al
mold, the TraitorW
Who shall depict the closing scene Of this will
drama Who shall dare paint the agony of hi
death hour2 With trembling hand and hushe
breath we drop the curtain, and turn away fror
the death bed of Benedict Arnold.
T. O. ADAMS AND THE BtHtr-Jrbc C,lIouip