Lynchburg daily Virginian. [volume] (Lynchburg [Va.]) 1852-1861, 1854-07-24
TaIieyrand aud Arnold.

There was a day when Talleyfand arrived in
/ Haryre, hot foot from Paris. 1t was 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 To America. in ship about 10
sail lie was beggar and a wanderer to
strange land, to earn his daily bread by daily Ia
Dor.
:. l. there mn American staying at your house 90
he asked of the landlord of the hotel. =. am
bound to cross the water. and would like a letter
TO person of influence in the New World"
The landlord hesitated a moment, then replied
There is gentleman up stairs, either from
America or Britain, but whether an American or
Englishman, ! cannot tell"
lie pointed the way. and Talleyrand-
in his life, was Bishop, Prince and Prime minis
ter-ascended the stairs. a miserable suppliant,
he slnol before the strangers door, knocked and
entered.
In the far corner of the dimly lighted room sat
a man of some fifty years, his arms folded and his
head bowed on his breast From window di-
reetly opposite. flood of light poured out upon
his forehead. His eyes looked from beneath the
downcast brows, and gazed on Taleyrand's face
with peculiar and searching expression. His
form, vigorous, even with the SHOWS of fifty, was
clad in dark but rich and distinguished costume,
Talleyrand adyaneed-stated that he was Il fugi-
tiye--and under the impression that the gentle
kind and feeling offices.
He poured forth his history in eloquent French
and broken English:
81 am "a wonderer-an exile am forced to fly
to the New World, without friend or home. Yon
are an American! Give me, then, beseech you
letter Of yours, so that | can earn my bread.
| am willing to toll in any manner the scenes of
Paris have seized me with horror, that life of
labour would be paradise to a career of luxury
in France You will give letter to one of your
friends! gentleman like you has doubtless
many friends.
The strange gentleman rose. With "A look
that Talleyrand never forgot; he retreated to-
wards the door of the next chamber his eyes
looked still from beneath his darkened brow
He spoke rs he retreat backwards-his voice
full of meaning.
II am the only man born in the New World
who raise his hand to God and say have
not n friend-not one in all America :"
iallcyrand never forgot the overwhelming sad
ness of that look which accompanied these words.
'Who you !" he cried, the strange man
retreated to the next room ''your name %
My name" he replied with smile that had
more mockery than joy in its convulsive express
sion-''rny name is Benedict Arnold"
He has gone. Talleyrand sunk into chair
gasping the words
"Amold the traitor ~
Thus, you see, he wandered over the EARTH IA
mother Cain with wanderers mark upon his
brow. Even in that secluded Inn at Hayre, his
crimes found him out and forced him to tell his
name-that name the synonyme of infamy.
The last twenty years of his life are covered
with cloud, rom whose darkness but few
CLEANS of light flashed out upon the page of his
tory.
The place of death is not exactly known.
But we cannot doubt that he died utterly friend
less-that remorse pursued him to the grave,
Il
memory of his course of glory gnawed like can
ker at his heart, murmuring, forever-"True to
your country, what might have been, oh Ar
mold. the Traitor ~