Marshall County Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1855-1859, 1858-01-14


the dome echoed the cry-"ARNoLD THE
TRAITOR"
When he issued from his gorgeous man.
sion, the liveried servant that ate his
bread, and earned it, too, by menial Off
ces, whispered in contempt 10 his fellow
lackeys, as he took his position behind
his masters carriage-"Arnold the Trait
or"
One day in shadowy room, mother
and two daughters, all attired in the weeds
of mourning, was grouped in a sad circle,
gazing upon picture shrouded in Grape.
A visitor was announced. The mother
took the card from the hands of the SER
want, and the daughter read his name.
"Go!' said the mother, rising with a
flushed face, while daughter took each
hand, "Go and tell this man that nay
threshold can never be crossed by the
murderer Of my son--by Arnold the Frat
or"
Grossly insulted in public place, he
appeared 20 the company-noble Lords and
renowned men were there-and breasting
his antagonist with his fierce brow he spit
full in his face. This antagonist was a
man of tried courage. He ooolly wiped
the saliva from his cheek. "You may
spit upon me, but never can pollute my
sword by killing-"Arnold the Traitor!"
He left London. He engaged in COM
merce. His ships were on the ocean-his
warehouse in Nova Scotia--his plantations
in the West Indies. One night his ware
house was burned to ashes. The entire
population of st. Johns, accusing the
owner Of acting the part of incendiary to
his own building, in order to defraud the
insurance companies, assembled in that
British town in sight of his own windows,
they hung an efigy, inscribed with these
words, ARNOLD the Traitor!"
When the Island of Guadalupe was re-
taken by the French, he was among the
prisoners. He was put on board French
prison ship in the harbor. His money,
thousands of yellow guineas. accumulated
through the course of years, was about his
person. Afraid Of his own name, he
called himself John Anderson, the name
once assumed by John Andre. He deem
ed himself unknown, but the sentinel ap-
preaching him whispered that he was
known and in great danger. He assisted
him to escape, even aided him to enclose
his treasures in an empty cask, but as the
prisoner gliding down the side of the ship
pushed his raft toward the shore, the SEN
tincl looked after him, and in broken Eng
lish sneered--"Arnold the Traitor!''
There was day when Ta!leyrand arrived
in Havre, hot foot from Paris. 1t was in
the darkest hours of the French Revolu-
ton. Pursued by the bloodhounds of the
Rein of Terror, stripped of every wreck
of property or power. Talleyrand secured
a passage to America in ship about to
sail. He was going beggar and wan
derer to strange land, to earn his bread
by daily labor.
"Is there an American staying at your
house," he asked the landlord of the hotel
-"I am about to cross the water, and
would like letter to some person of in
fuence in the New World
The landlord hesitated a moment, and
then replied:
"There is gentleman up stairs, either
from America or Britain, but whether an
American or an Englshman cannot tell"
He pointed the way. and Talleyrand-
who in life was Bishop, Prince, and Prime
Minister-ascended the stairs. A misera-
bic supplicant, he stood before the stran-
gers door, knocked and entered.
In the far corner of Q dimly lighted
room, sat . gentleman of some fifty years,
his arms folded and his head bowed on his
breast. From a window directly opposite
a Hood of light poured over his head. His
eyes, looking from beneath the downcast
brows, gazed in Talleyrand's face with
peculiar and searching expression. His
face was striking in its outline, the mouth
and chin indicative of an iron will. His
form. vigorous even with the sorrows Of
fifty winters, clad in dark but rich and
distinguished costume.
Talleyrand advanced-stated that he was
fugitive-and under the impression that
the gentleman before him was ali American,
he solicited his kind Offices.
He poured forth his story in eloquent
French and broken English.
81 am wanderer--an exile. | am a
VANDERBILT alone. am forced to fly
to the New World without friend, with
out hope. You are an American? Give
me, then, letter of introduction to some
friend of yours, so that l may be able to
earn my bread. l am willing to toll in any
manner--the scenes of Paris have filled
me with such horror that life of labor
would be Paradise to career 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 a
look that Talleyrand never forgot, he re-
treated towards the door of the next cham
Der, his head still downcast, his eyes look
ing from beneath his darkened brow.
He spoke as he retreated backward-his
voice was full Of meaning:
II am the only man born in the New
World who can raise his hand to God and
say-sI have not one friend, not one, in
all America!'"