The Yazoo Democrat., 1854-04-26
Talleyramd and ArnoId.


There was day when TaIeyrand arrived in
Havre, on foot from Paris. 1t was the darkesl
hour o.; the French revolution. Pursued BY the
oloodhounds Of the Reign of Terror, stripped of
every wreck of property or power, Talleyrand
secured passage 10 America in ship about TO
sail He was beggar and wanderer to al
strange land to earn his daily bread by daily la
Dor.
Is there an American staying at your house D.
he asked the landlord Of the hotel " rm bound
10 cross the water, and would like letter to
person of influence in the New World.
The landlord hesitated moment and then re-
piled:
There is a gentleman up stairs, either from
America or Britain, but whether an American
or Englishman, ] cannot tell"
He pointed the way, and Talleyrand--who in
his life was Bishop, Prince and Prime Minister
ascsnded. A miserable suppliant, he stopped
before the strangers door, knocked and entered
In the far corner of dirnly lighted room, sat
a man of some fifty years, his arms folded and
head bowed upon his breast. From window
drecly opposite, food or light poured over his
forehead. His eyes looked from beneath the
downcast brows, gazed on TalIeyrand's face with
a peculiar and searching expression. His face
was striking in outlines; the mouth and chin
ndicaiiye OF an iron will His form was vigor-
ous, even with the SHOWS of fifty winters; was
clad in dark, but rich and distinguished cos
tune.
TalIeyrand advanced-stated that he was
fugitive-and under the impression that the
gentleman before him was an American, be So
licited his kind and feeling offices.
He poured forth his history in eloquent
French and broken English
81 am a wanderer-an exile. am forced to
fly to the New World, without friend or a
home You are an American Give me then.
/ beseech you. letter of yours, so that may
be able to earn my bread ] am willing to toll
in any nianner-the scenes of Paris have filed
me with such horror, that life of labor would
be paradise t. a career of luxury in France
Yon will give me letter to one of your friends
The strange gentleman rose. With a look
that Talleyrand never forgot, he retseated to
wards the door of the next chamber. his eyes
looked still from beneath his darkened brow.
He spoke as he retrealed backward /; his voice
was full of meaning.
81 am The only rnan born in the New World
who can raise hand to God and say--I have
not friend--not one in all America"
Taleyrand never forget the overwhelming
sadness Of that look which accompanied these
words.
ssWho are you?" he cried, as strange man re-
treated towards the next room" what is your
name r.
My name "--he replied with smile that
had more mockery than JOY in its convulsiss
depression" my name is Benedict Arnold
He was gone. TslIeyrand sunk into chai
lgasping the words;
Arnold, the traitor"
Thus YOU see he wandered over the earth, an
other Cain, with wanderers mark upon bill
brow. Even in that secluded room. at the I'M
lin Havre, his crimes f und him out, and force'
him to tell his name-that name the synonym
Of infany
The last twenty years Of life are covered wit
Ia cloud, from whose darkness but few gleam
of light flashed out upon the page Of history
The uannerof hisdeath il not exactly known
: But we cannot doubt that he died utterly friend
less--that remorse pursued him to the grave
Z Vhispering John Andre in his ear. and that th
memory Of his course of glory gnawed like
. canker al his heart, murmuring forever" tFu
Q 10 yonr country, what might you have been, q
: Arnold, the traitor J"