AMERICAN ENCYCLOPEDIA (continued 23)

In person, Mr. Jefferson was tall and well formed; his countenance was bland and expressive; his conversation fluent, imaginative, various and eloquent. Few men equaled him in the faculty of pleasing in personal intercourse, and acquiring ascendancy in political connection. He was the acknowledged head of the republican party, from the period of its organization down to that of his retirement from public life. The unbounded praise and blame which he received as a politician, must be left for the judgment of the historian and posterity. In the four volumes of his posthumous works, edited by his grandson, Thomas Jefferson Randolph, there are abundant materials to guide the literary or historical critic in forming an estimate of his powers, acquirements, feelings and opinions. His name is one of the brightest in the revolutionary galaxy. Mr. Jefferson was a zealous cultivator of literature and science. As early as 1781, he was favorably known as an author, by his Notes on Virginia. He published, also, various essays on political and philosophical subjects, and a manual of Parliamentary Practice, for the use of the Senate of the United States. In the year 1800 the French national institute chose him one of their foreign members. The volumes of posthumous works, in addition to an auto-biography of the author to the year 1790, consist principally of letters from the year 1775 to the time of his death, and embrace a great variety of subjects.

SAMUEL ADAMS.

Samuel Adams was one of the most remarkable men connected with the American revolution. He was descended from a family that had been among the early planters of New England, was born in Boston, September 27, 1722, was educated at Harvard college, and received its honors in 1740. When he took the degree of master, in 1743, he proposed the following question: ‘Whether it be lawful to resist the supreme magistrate, if the commonwealth cannot be otherwise preserved?’ He maintained the affirmative, and this collegiate exercise furnished a very significant index to his subsequent political career. On leaving the university, he engaged in the study of divinity, with the intention of becoming a clergyman, but did not pursue his design. From his earliest youth, his attention was drawn to political affairs, and he occupied himself, both in conversation and writing, with the political concerns of the day. He was opposed to governor Shirley, because he thought too much power was conferred upon him, and was the friend of his successor, Pownal, as the latter assumed the popular side. He became so entirely a public man, and discovered such a jealous, watchful and unyielding regard for popular rights, that he excited the general attention of the patriotic party, and they took the opportunity, in the year 1766, to place him in the legislature. From that period till the close of the revolutionary war, he was one of the most unwearied, efficient, and disinterested assertors of American freedom and independence. He grew conspicuous very soon after his admission into the house, of which he was chosen clerk, it being then the practice to take that officer from among the members. He obtained the same kind of influence, and exercised the same indefatigable activity in the affairs of the legislature, that he did in those of his town. He was upon every committee, had a hand in writing or revising every report, a share in the management of every political meeting, private or public, and a voice in all the measures that were proposed, to counteract the tyrannical plans of the administration. The people soon found him to be one of the steadiest of their supporters, and the government was convinced that he was one of the most inveterate of its opponents. When his character was known in England, and it was also understood that he was poor, the partisans of the ministry, who felt annoyed by the ‘disturbances in America,’ resorted to the usual practice, when the clamorous grow too troublesome, and proposed that he should be quieted by a participation in some of the good things they were enjoying. Governor Hutchinson, in answering the inquiry of a friend, why he was not silenced in this manner, wrote, with an expression of impatient vexation—​‘Such is the obstinacy and inflexible disposition of the man, that he never can be conciliated by any office or gift whatever.’

He continued in the legislature till 1774, when he was sent to the first congress of the old confederation. He was subsequently chosen secretary of Massachusetts in 1775, which office was performed by deputy during his absence. He was one of the signers of the declaration of 1776, which he labored most indefatigably and unhesitatingly to bring forward. He was an active member of the convention that formed the constitution of Massachusetts; and, after it went into effect, he was placed in the senate of the state, and for several years presided over that body. In 1789, he was elected lieutenant-governor, and held that office till 1794, when, after the death of Hancock, he was chosen governor, and was annually reëlected till 1797. He then retired from public life, and died at his house in Winter street, Boston, October 2d, 1803, in the 82d year of his age. He was one of that class who saw very early, that, ‘after all, we must fight;’ and, having come to that conclusion, there was no citizen more prepared for the extremity, or who would have been more reluctant to enter into any kind of compromise. After he had received warning at Lexington, in the night of the 18th of April, of the intended British expedition, as he proceeded to make his escape through the fields with some friends, soon after the dawn of day, he exclaimed, ‘This is a fine day!’ ‘Very pleasant, indeed,’ answered one of his companions, supposing he alluded to the beauty of the sky and atmosphere. ‘I mean,’ he replied, ‘this day is a glorious day for America!’ His situation at that moment was full of peril and uncertainty, but, throughout the contest, no damage to himself or to his country ever discouraged or depressed him. The very faults of his character tended, in some degree, to render his services more useful, by concentrating his exertions, and preventing their being weakened by indulgence or liberality towards different opinions. There was some tinge of bigotry and narrowness both in his religion and politics. He was a strict Calvinist; and, probably, no individual of his day had so much of the feelings of the ancient Puritans as he possessed. In politics, he was so jealous of delegated power, that he would not have given our constitutions inherent force enough for their own preservation. He attached an exclusive value to the habits and principles in which he had been educated, and wished to adjust wide concerns too closely after a particular model. One of his colleagues, who knew him well, and estimated him highly, described him, with good-natured exaggeration, in the following manner: ‘Samuel Adams would have the state of Massachusetts govern the Union, the town of Boston govern Massachusetts, and that he should govern the town of Boston, and then the whole would not be intentionally ill-governed.’ It was a sad error of judgment that caused him to undervalue, for a period at least, the services of Washington during the revolutionary war, and to think that his popularity, when president, might be dangerous. Still, these unfounded prejudices were honestly entertained, and sprang naturally from his disposition and doctrines. During the war, he was impatient for some more decisive action than it was in the power of the commander-in-chief, for a long time, to bring about; and when the new constitution went into operation, its leaning towards aristocracy, which was the absurd imputation of its enemies, and which his anti-federal bias led him more readily to believe, derived all its plausibility from the just, generous and universal confidence that was reposed in the chief magistrate. These things influenced his conduct in old age, when he was governor of Massachusetts, and while the extreme heat of political feelings would have made it impossible for a much less positive character to administer any public concerns, without one of the parties of that day being dissatisfied. But all these circumstances are to be disregarded, in making an estimate of his services. He, in fact, was born for the revolutionary epoch; he was trained and nurtured in it, and all his principles and views were deeply imbued with the dislikes and partialities which were created during that long struggle. He belonged to the revolution; all the power and peculiarity of his character were developed in that career; and his share in public life, under a subsequent state of things, must be considered as subordinate and unimportant. His private habits were simple, frugal and unostentatious. Notwithstanding the austerity of his character, his aspect was mild, dignified and gentlemanly. He was entirely superior to pecuniary considerations, and, after having been so many years in the public service, must have been buried at the public expense, if the afflicting death of an only son had not remedied this honorable poverty.

JAMES OTIS.

James Otis, a distinguished American patriot, was born February 5, 1724–5, at Great Marshes, in what is now called West Barnstable, Mass. His family was one of the most respectable in the colony, and of English origin. In June, 1739, he entered Cambridge college. The first two years of his collegiate course are said to have been given more to amusement than to study, his natural disposition being vivacious and ardent; but subsequently he was distinguished for his application and proficiency. After finishing his course at the university, he devoted eighteen months to the pursuit of various branches of literature, and then entered upon the study of the law in 1745, in the office of Mr. Gridley. Under that eminent lawyer he employed his legal novitiate, and then went to Plymouth, where he was first admitted to the bar. The two years, however, of his residence in that town, were more occupied in study than in practice, so that, when he removed to Boston, in 1750, he was well qualified to assume a high rank in his profession. This he quickly did: his practice became very extensive. On one occasion, he went, in the middle of the winter, to Halifax, in consequence of urgent solicitation, to defend three men accused of piracy, and procured their acquittal. Although his professional engagements were so numerous, he cultivated his taste for literature, and, in 1760, published a treatise, entitled the Rudiments of Latin Prosody, with a Dissertation on Letters and the Principles of Harmony, in poetic and prosaic Composition, collected from the best Writers. He also composed a similar work on Greek prosody, which remained in manuscript, and perished with all his papers. It was never printed, as he said, because ‘there were no Greek types in the country, or, if there were, no printer knew how to set them.’

In 1755, he married Miss Ruth Cunningham, the daughter of a respectable merchant, who brought him a dowry at that time considered very large. Amid all the embarrassments which his affairs subsequently experienced, in consequence of his entire devotion to the concerns of the public, he sacredly preserved the fortune which he received with his wife, to whom it returned after his death. The public career of Mr. Otis dates from the period when he made his famous speech against the ‘writs of assistance,’ for which an application had been made, by the officers of the customs, to the superior court of Massachusetts, in pursuance of an order in council, sent from England, to enable them to carry into effect the acts of parliament regulating the trade of the colonies. When that order arrived, Otis was advocate-general, and was, consequently, requested to lend his professional assistance in the matter; but, deeming the writs to be illegal and tyrannical, he refused, and resigned his station. He was then applied to, to argue against the writs, which he immediately undertook to do, in conjunction with Mr. Thacher, and in opposition to his former preceptor, Mr. Gridley, the attorney-general. Of the discourse which he pronounced, president Adams the elder says, ‘Otis was a flame of fire; with a promptitude of classical allusions, a depth of research, a rapid summary of historical events and dates, a profusion of legal authorities, a prophetic glance of his eyes into futurity, and a rapid torrent of impetuous eloquence, he hurried away all before him. American independence was then and there born. Every man, of an immense crowded audience, appeared to me to go away as I did, ready to take arms against writs of assistance.’ The court adjourned for consideration, and, at the close of the term, the chief-justice, Hutchinson, delivered the opinion: ‘The court has considered the subject of writs of assistance, and can see no foundation for such a writ; but, as the practice in England is not known, it has been thought best to continue the question to the next term, that, in the mean time, opportunity may be given to know the result.’ When the next term came, however, nothing was said about the writs; and though it was generally understood that they were clandestinely granted by the court, and that the custom-house officers had them in their pockets, yet it is said that they were never produced or executed. Otis had now fully committed himself against the designs of the British ministry, and thenceforward bent all his energies to maintain the freedom of his country. At the next election of members of the legislature, in May, 1761, he was chosen, almost unanimously, a representative from Boston, and soon became the leader, in the house, of the popular party. For the detail of his course, during the period in which he was a representative, we must refer our readers to the biography of him by Mr. Tudor. In 1765, Mr. Otis was chosen, by the Massachusetts legislature, one of the members of a committee appointed to meet the committees of the legislatures of other colonies at New York, in consequence of the passage of the stamp-act by parliament. They met in convention October 19, in the same year, and named three committees to prepare addresses to the king, lords and commons. On the last Mr. Otis was placed. In this convention, Mr. Otis made the acquaintance of many distinguished men, from different colonies, and subsequently maintained, with several of them, a friendship and correspondence.

In May, 1767, after the repeal of the stamp-act, Mr. Otis was elected speaker of the house of representatives; but he was negatived by the governor, who entertained a peculiar animosity towards him, from his indefatigable endeavors to defeat every plan of encroachment. In the summer of 1769, the vehement temper of Mr. Otis was so much wrought upon by the calumnies which he discovered that the commissioners of the customs in Boston had transmitted to England concerning him, by which, indeed, they sought to have him tried for treason, that he inserted an advertisement in the Boston Gazette, denouncing them in severe terms. The next evening he happened to go to the British coffee-house, where one of the commissioners, a Mr. Robinson, was sitting with a number of officers of the army, navy and revenue. As soon as he entered, an altercation arose, which was quickly terminated by a blow from Robinson’s cane. Otis immediately returned it with a weapon of the same kind, when the lights were extinguished, and he was obliged to defend himself, single-handed, against numbers. After some time the combatants were separated. Robinson retreated by a back passage, and Otis was led home, wounded and bleeding. He received a deep cut on his head; and to this has been partly attributed the derangement under which he afterwards labored. Soon after this transaction, he instituted an action against Robinson, and obtained an award of £2,000 sterling damages, which, however, he gave up on receiving a written apology, in which the defendant acknowledged his fault and begged his pardon.

In 1770, he retired into the country on account of his health. At the election in 1771, he was again chosen a representative; but this was the last year that he took a part in public concerns, except occasionally to appear at a town-meeting. He withdrew, also, almost entirely, from the practice of his profession. His mind became seriously affected, and continued so, with some lucid intervals, until his death. Sometimes he was in a frenzied state; at others, he exhibited rather the eccentricity of a humorist than absolute derangement. The two last years of his life were passed at Andover. After he had been there for some time, he was supposed to be completely restored, and returned to Boston. He resumed his professional engagements, and pleaded a cause in the court of common pleas, in which he displayed considerable power, but less than was his wont. The interval of reason was not, however, of long duration, and he was induced to go back to Andover. Six weeks after his return, he was killed by a stroke of lightning, in the sixtieth year of his age, May 23, 1783.

The chief defect of Mr. Otis’ character was his irascibility. His merits are well summed up in the following extract from the work of Mr. Tudor, to which we have before alluded:—​‘In fine, he was a man of powerful genius and ardent temper, with wit and humor that never failed; as an orator, he was bold, argumentative, impetuous and commanding, with an eloquence that made his own excitement irresistibly contagious: as a lawyer, his knowledge and ability placed him at the head of his profession; as a scholar, he was rich in acquisition, and governed by a classic taste; as a statesman and civilian, he was sound and just in his views; as a patriot, he resisted all allurements that might weaken the cause of that country to which he devoted his life, and for which he sacrificed it.’ It is greatly to be regretted that, during his derangement, he destroyed all his papers; sufficient evidence, however, of his power as a writer, remains in the various state papers of which he was the author whilst a member of the legislature, though they were subjected to the revising pen of Samuel Adams, whose patient temper permitted him to undergo the labor of correcting and polishing, which the ardor of the other disdained.

FISHER AMES.

Fisher Ames, one of the most eloquent of American statesman and writers, was born at Dedham, in Massachusetts, April 9th, 1758, of very respectable parents. Soon after the completion of his 12th year, he was admitted to Harvard college, with the reputation of uncommon talents and attainments. Diligence, regularity and success marked his collegiate course of four years. After receiving his degree, in 1774, the narrow circumstances of his widowed mother compelled him to postpone, for several years, the accomplishment of his original purpose of studying the law. In the interval, he acted as an assistant teacher in a public school, and continued to cultivate classical literature, to the signal improvement of his taste and fancy. At length, in 1781, he commenced the practice of the law, with the stock of knowledge which he had acquired in the office of a member of the profession, in Boston. Opportunity soon occurred for the display of his superior qualifications, both as a speaker and essay writer. The fame which followed his early efforts conduced to place him in the Massachusetts convention for ratifying the constitution, in 1788. From this sphere, in which he made a deep impression by some of his speeches, particularly that on biennial elections, he passed to the house of representatives in the state legislature. Here, he soon became so eminent as an orator and man of business, that the voters of the Suffolk district elected him their first representative in the congress of the U. States. He had not been long in that assembly before his friends and admirers were satisfied that they had not overrated his abilities. He won there the palm of eloquence, besides proving himself equal to the discussion of the deepest subjects of politics and finance, and the execution of the most arduous committee labors. He remained in congress during eight years, the whole of Washington’s administration, which he constantly and zealously defended. ‘His speech on the British treaty,’ says his distinguished biographer, doctor Kirkland, ‘was the era of his political life. For many months, he had been sinking under weakness, and, though he had attended the long and interesting debate on the question which involved the constitution and the peace of the U. States, it was feared he would be unable to speak. But when the time came for taking a vote so big with consequences, his emotions would not suffer him to be silent. His appearance, his situation, the magnitude of his subject, the force and the pathos of his eloquence, gave this speech an extraordinary power over the feelings of the dignified and numerous assembly who heard it. When he had finished, a member in opposition moved to postpone the decision of the question, that they might not vote under the influence of a sensibility which their calm judgment might condemn.’ On the retirement of Washington, Mr. A. returned to his residence at Deadham, where he occupied himself with the management of his farm and the practice of the law. The latter he relinquished in a few years, owing to the decline of his health; but he felt too deep an interest in the welfare of his country to withdraw his mind and pen from politics. He published a considerable number of essays, relating chiefly on the contest between Great Britain and revolutionary France, as it might affect American liberty and prosperity. No writer evinced more ardor for the success of Britain, or more horror of the character and tendencies of the French despotism. In 1804, Mr. A. was chosen president of Harvard college,—​an honor which he declined. When Washington died, Mr. A., then a member of council of the commonwealth, was appointed to pronounce his funeral eulogy before the legislature of Massachusetts. The injury which his constitution sustained in 1795 was never fully repaired. From that period his health declined, until, at length, after an extreme debility for two years, death ended his sufferings. He expired July 4th, 1808; and, when the intelligence of this event was received, a public meeting of citizens was held, in order to testify the general respect for his character. His remains were carried to Boston, where they were interred with honors such as had not been before paid to those of any private citizen. In 1809, his works were issued in a large octavo volume, with prefatory notices of his life and character, from the pen of the reverend doctor Kirkland, president of Harvard college, who had enjoyed his personal friendship and intimacy. The volume is fraught with profound remarks, various historical lore, and eloquent declamation. Although the political interest of most of the topics is gone, there remains much to captivate and reward attention in the richness of fancy, warmth of feeling, beauty of language, and felicity of copious illustration, which distinguish almost every page. Fisher Ames left seven children and a wife, to whom he was tenderly attached. In person, he exceeded a little the middle stature, was well-proportioned and perfectly erect. His features and countenance were fine, and his manners easy and affable. Of his delivery as an orator, his biographer states, that he did not systematically study the exterior graces of speaking, but his attitude was firm, his gesticulation natural and forcible, his voice clear and varied, and his whole manner earnest and expressive. According to the same authority, all the other efforts of his mind were probably surpassed by his powers of conversation.

COLONEL AARON BURR.

Colonel Aaron Burr was born on the 6th of February 1756, at Newark, in New Jersey. His father, the Rev. Aaron Burr, was the first president of the College of New Jersey, which was opened at Newark, but was subsequently removed to Princeton; his mother was the daughter of the Rev. Jonathan Edwards, so distinguished as a metaphysician and divine, and who succeeded his son-in-law in the presidency of the College. The former died in 1757, and the latter in the following year, leaving only two children, Aaron and a daughter, afterwards the wife of Judge Tappan Reeve, of Conneticut. Colonel Burr inherited from his father a considerable property. He was graduated at Princeton when only 16 years old. When in his 20th year he joined the American army, after the battle of Bunker’s Hill, in the neighborhood of Boston. Here he volunteered to accompany General Arnold in the expedition against Quebec. This officer led the detachment under his command into Canada, by way of the Kennebec, and through the wilderness between the St. Lawrence and the settlements in the regions now constituting the state of Maine. On his arrival at Chaudière pond, Burr was sent with a communication to General Montgomery, who was advancing from the state of New York with the forces under his immediate orders; and who was so much pleased with the young messenger as to appoint him to be one of his aids-de-camp. In this capacity Burr was present at the battle of Quebec, and near the person of the General when he was killed. On his return from Canada, in May, 1776, he proceeded to the city of New York, on being ‘notified verbally, that it would be agreeable to the commander-in-chief’ that he should do so. But it would seem that Colonel (then already Major) Burr, for some reason or other, failed to make a favorable impression personally on General Washington. He, in consequence, became, in his turn, dissatisfied, and even inclined to quit the service; when through the instrumentality of Governor Hancock, he obtained the appointment of aid-de-camp to General Putnam,—​an appointment which he gladly accepted.

In July 1777, he was promoted to the rank of a Lieutenant Colonel; but was obliged, in March 1779, to resign his commission in the army, on account of the impaired state of his health. He had, on various occasions, during the war, highly distinguished himself by his bravery, vigilance, and skill, and had been repeatedly selected by Washington to execute his commands on important emergencies, although that great man and admirable judge of character, had formed but a low estimate of his principles and morals. On retiring from the army, and after an interval of repose required for the restoration of his health, Colonel Burr applied himself to the study of the law, as well to provide himself with an adequate field for distinction among his countrymen in his future life, as to repair the pecuniary losses which he had incurred, during the period of his military service, by the liberality and extravagance of his expenditure. He commenced the practice of his profession at Albany, in the month of April, 1782, and married in July following. As soon as the British troops had evacuated the city of New York, at the conclusion of the war, in November, 1783, he removed thither, where he speedily acquired an extensive and lucrative practice. He was a member of the Legislature during the sessions of 1784 and 1785; but as that body met in the city where he resided, and as he took part in its deliberations only on a few of the most important questions which came before it for its decision, his professional avocations suffered scarcely any interruption; and it was only after the existing constitution of the Union went into operation that he became prominent as a party politician. In 1789, he was appointed attorney-general of the state. In January, 1791, he was elected a senator of the United States; and he took his seat in that body in the autumn of that year. He was appointed, in October, 1792, to be a judge of the supreme court of the state of New York, but declined the appointment; preferring to hold his position in the United States Senate, as one of the most prominent leaders of the party (the democratic) to which he belonged. At the presidential election which took place in the autumn of 1800, an equal number of votes were found to have been given for the two highest candidates on the list, Mr. Jefferson and Colonel Burr; and it, in consequence, devolved on the members of the House of Representatives, voting by states, to decide which of these gentlemen should hold the office of president, and which of them that of vice-president. Notwithstanding that, prior to the choice of electors, Mr. Jefferson was alone intended, by the party that nominated him, as their candidate for the presidency, it was not until after 36 ballotings that the contest was decided in his favor. From this time forth, as from the circumstances of the case might naturally have been expected, Colonel Burr lost the confidence of the majority of his former political friends; and the attempts which he made to ingratiate himself with those to whom he had been heretofore opposed were only partially successful. In 1804, he was a candidate for the office of governor of New York, but failed of being elected. He was supported by a portion of both the political parties; by a minority of the democrats, and a majority of the federalists. Of the latter party, General Hamilton had been one of those who most earnestly opposed him; and a duel took place, on the 11th of July, between these distinguished men, growing out of their rivalship and adverse relation to each other. Burr was the challenger, conceiving himself to have been injuriously spoken of at the period of the preceding election by Hamilton, who was mortally wounded in the encounter. Colonel Burr continued at his post in the Senate of the United States till within two days of the expiration of his term of service as vice-president; the last public duty of any importance performed by him having been to preside at the trial of Judge Chase, who was impeached by the House of Representatives for ‘high crimes and misdemeanors.’ It was not very long afterwards that he formed the scheme of his singular, and even yet not satisfactorily explained, western expedition, which led to his arrest, and trials at Richmond, in Virginia, in August and September, 1807, for treason first, and then for a misdemeanor. He was acquitted or both these charges. In June, 1808, he embarked from New York for England; induced to take this step, in a certain degree, by the personal and political prejudices that had been excited against him, by the death of Hamilton, and by the equivocal course he had pursued in the western country, but, in a degree also, by an expectation of being able to obtain encouragement and assistance from some of the European governments, for attempting the emancipation of the Spanish American colonies from the oppressive domination of the mother country,—​a project which he had long contemplated. His efforts in this respect were, however, entirely unsuccessful; and he returned to the United States in June, 1812, after an absence abroad of 4 years. He opened an office in the city of New York, and practiced the law there, but without attracting the attention of the public to any considerable extent. In 1816, General Toledo, then in the city of New York, and whose object in visiting the United States was ‘not only to obtain the means of continuing the war (of Mexico against Spain), but to seek the person best capable of employing them,’ invited him to ‘assume the management’ of the ‘political and military affairs’ of the Mexican republic. Colonel Burr declined this invitation. But again, in 1819, he received a commission from the government of Venezuela, authorizing him to raise troops for the sea and land service of that republic, and pledging itself to pay all debts of his contracting in the exercise of the authority granted him. Colonel Burr died on the 14th of September, 1836, in the 81st year of his age, on Staten Island, where he had passed the summer for the benefit of the pure air. Agreeably to his own request, his body was conveyed to Princeton, to be there buried.

ALEXANDER HAMILTON.

Alexander Hamilton was born in 1757, in the island of Nevis. His father was a native of England, and his mother of the island. At the age of 16, he became a student of Columbia college, his mother having emigrated to New York. He had not been in that institution more than a year, before he gave a brilliant manifestation of the powers of his mind in the discussion concerning the rights of the colonies. In support of these he published several essays, which were marked by such vigor and maturity of style, strength of argument, and wisdom and compass of views, that Mr. Jay, at that time in the meridian of life, was supposed, at first, to be the author. When it had become necessary to unsheath the sword, the ardent spirit of young Hamilton would no longer allow him to remain in academic retirement; and before the age of 19, he entered the American army, with the rank of captain of artillery. In this capacity, he soon attracted the attention of the commander-in-chief, who appointed him his aid-de-camp, with the rank of lieutenant-colonel. This occurred in 1777, when he was not more than 20 years of age. From this time, he continued the inseparable companion of Washington during the war, and was always consulted by him, and frequently by other eminent public functionaries, on the most important occasions. He acted as his first aid-de-camp at the battles of Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth, and, at the siege of Yorktown, he led, at his own request, the detachment that carried by assault one of the enemy’s outworks, Oct. 14, 1781. In this affair, he displayed the most brilliant valor. After the war, colonel Hamilton then about 24, commenced the study of the law, as he had at that time a wife and family depending upon him for support. He was soon admitted to the bar. In 1782, he was chosen a member of congress from the state of New York, where he quickly acquired the greatest influence and distinction, and was always a member and sometimes chairman of those committees to which were confided such subjects as were deemed of vital interest to the nation. The reports which he prepared are remarkable for the correctness and power which characterize every effort of his pen. At the end of the session, he returned to the practice of his profession in the city of New York, and became eminent at the bar. In 1786, he was chosen a member of the legislature of his state, and was mainly instrumental in preventing a serious collision between Vermont and New York, in consequence of a dispute concerning territorial jurisdiction. He was elected a delegate of New York to the convention which was to meet at Philadelphia, in order to form a constitution for the United States. As the doors of the convention were closed during its sittings, and its records have never been given to the world, it is not possible to state the precise part which he acted in that body. It is well ascertained, however, that the country is, at least, as much indebted to him for the excellencies of the constitution, as to any other member of the illustrious assembly. Hamilton and Madison were the chief oracles and artificers. After the adoption of the constitution by the convention, he associated himself with Mr. Madison and Mr. Jay, for the purpose of disposing the public to receive it with favor. The essays which they wrote with that design, addressed to the people of New York, during the years 1787 and 1788, are well known under the name of the Federalist, and contributed powerfully to produce the effect for which they were composed. The larger portion of them was written by Hamilton. In 1788, he was a member of the state convention of New York, which met to deliberate on the adoption of the federal constitution, and it was chiefly in consequence of his efforts that it was accepted. On the organization of the federal government, in 1789, he was appointed to the office of secretary of the treasury. This was a situation which required the exercise of all the great powers of his mind; for the public credit was, at that time, in the lowest state of depression; and, as no statistical account of the country had ever been attempted, its fiscal resources were wholly unknown. But before Hamilton retired from the post, which he did after filling it during somewhat more than five years, he had raised the public credit to a height altogether unprecedented in the history of the country, and, by the admirable system of finance which he established, had acquired the reputation of one of the greatest financiers of the age. His official reports to congress are considered as masterpieces, the principles which he advocated in them still continue to exercise a great influence in the revenue department of the American government. Whilst secretary of the treasury, he was, ex officio, one of the cabinet counselors of president Washington; and such was the confidence reposed by that great man in his integrity and ability, that he rarely ventured upon any executive act of moment without his concurrence. He was one of the principal advisers of the proclamation of neutrality issued by Washington in 1793, in consequence of an attempt made by the minister of France to cause the United States to take part with his country in the war then waging between it and England. This measure he defended in a series of essays, under the signature of Pacificus, which were successful in giving it popularity. In 1795, Hamilton resigned his office, and retired to private life, in order to be better able to support a numerous family by the practice of his profession. In 1798, however, when an invasion was apprehended from the French, and a provisional army had been called into the field, his public services were again required. President Adams had offered the chief command of the provisional army to Washington, who consented to accept it on condition that Hamilton should be chosen second in command, with the title of inspector-general. This was accordingly done; and, in a short time, he succeeded in bringing the organization and discipline of the army to a high degree of excellence. On the death of Washington, in 1799, he succeeded, of course, to the chief command. The title of lieutenant-general, however, to which he was then entitled, was, from some unexplained cause, never conferred on him. When the army was disbanded, after the cessation of hostilities between the United States and France, general Hamilton returned again to the bar, and continued to practice, with increased reputation and success, until 1804. In June of that year, he received a note from colonel Burr,—​between whom and himself a political had become a personal enmity,—​in which he was required, in offensive language, to acknowledge or disavow certain expressions derogatory to the latter. The tone of the note was such as to cause him to refuse to do either, and a challenge was the consequence. July 11, the parties met at Hoboken, and on the first fire Hamilton fell mortally wounded, on the same spot where, a short time previously, his eldest son had been killed in a duel. He lingered until the afternoon of the following day, when he expired. The sensation which this occurrence produced throughout the United States, had never been exceeded on this continent. Men of all political parties felt that the nation was deprived of its greatest ornament. His transcendent abilities were universally acknowledged; every citizen was ready to express confidence in his spirit of honor and his capacity for public service. Of all the coadjutors and advisers of Washington, Hamilton was doubtless the one in whose judgment and sagacity he reposed the greatest confidence, whether in the military or civil career; and, of all the American statesmen, he displayed the most comprehensive understanding and the most varied ability, whether applied to subjects practical or speculative. A collection of his works was issued in New York, in three octavo volumes, some years after his death. His style is nervous, lucid and elevated; he excels in reasoning, founded on general principles and historical experience. General Hamilton was regarded as the head of the federalists in the party divisions of the American republic. He was accused of having preferred, in the convention that framed the federal constitution, a government more akin to the monarchical; he weakened the federal party by denouncing president Adams, whose administration he disapproved, and whose fitness for office he questioned. But his general course, and his confidential correspondence, show that he earnestly desired to preserve the constitution, when it was adopted, and that his motives were patriotic in his proceedings towards Mr. Adams. Certain it is that no man labored more faithfully, skillfully and efficiently, in organizing and putting into operation the federal government.

PATRICK HENRY.

Patrick Henry, the second son of John and Sarah Henry, and one of nine children, was born May 29, 1736, in the county of Hanover and colony of Virginia. Until ten years of age, Patrick Henry was sent to a school in the neighborhood, where he learned to read and write, and made some small progress in arithmetic. He was then taken home, and, under the direction of his father, who had opened a grammar school in his own house, he acquired a superficial knowledge of the Latin language. At the same time, he made a considerable proficiency in the mathematics, the only branch of education for which, it seems, he discovered, in his youth, the slightest predilection. He was passionately addicted to the sports of the field, and could not brook the confinement and toil which education required. His father, unable to sustain the expense of his large and increasing family, found it necessary to qualify his sons, at a very early age, to support themselves. With this view, Patrick was placed, at the age of fifteen, behind the counter of a trader in the country. In the next year, his father purchased a small adventure of goods for his two sons, William and Patrick, and ‘set them up in trade.’ William’s habits of idleness were such, that the chief management of their concerns devolved upon the younger brother, and that management was most wretched. One year put an end to this experiment, and Patrick was engaged, for the two or three following years, in settling the accounts of the firm as well as he could. At the early age of eighteen, he married a Miss Shelton, the daughter of a respectable farmer in the neighborhood; and, by the joint assistance of their parents, the young couple were settled on a small farm, where, with one or two slaves, Mr. Henry had to dig the earth for subsistence. His want of agricultural skill, and his unconquerable aversion to every species of systematic labor, caused him, after a trial of two years, to abandon this pursuit. His next step seems to have been dictated by absolute despair; for, selling off his little possessions at a sacrifice for cash, he entered a second time into the unauspicious business of merchandise. But the same want of method, the same facility of temper, soon became apparent. He resumed his violin, his flute, his books, his inspection of human nature, and not unfrequently shut up his shop to indulge himself in the favorite sports of his youth. His reading, however, began to assume a more serious character. He studied geography, read the charters and history of the colony, and became fond of historical works generally, particularly those of Greece and Rome, and, from the tenacity of his memory and the strength of his judgment, soon made himself master of their contents. Livy was his favorite; and, having procured a translation, he made it a rule to read it through, once, at least, in every year, during the earlier part of his life. The second mercantile experiment in a few years left him a bankrupt; every remnant of his property was gone, and his friends were unable to assist him any further. As a last effort, he determined to make trial of the law. No one expected him to succeed; his unfortunate habits were by no means suited to so laborious a profession, and the situation of his affairs forbade an extensive course of reading. After a six weeks’ preparation, he obtained a license to practice the law, being at this time of the age of four and twenty. He was, at the time of his admission to practice, not only unable to draw a declaration or a plea, but incapable, it is said, of the most common and simple business of his profession, even the mode of ordering a suit, giving a notice, or making a motion in court. For three years, the wants and distresses of his family were extreme. The profits of his practice could not have supplied them even with the necessaries of life; and he seems to have spent the greatest part of his time, both during his study of the law and the practice of the first two or three years, with his father-in-law, Mr. Shelton, who then kept a tavern at Hanover court-house. Whenever Mr. Shelton was from home, Mr. Henry supplied his place in the tavern. The controversy between the clergy on the one hand, and the legislature and people of the colony on the other, touching the stipend claimed by the former, which had created a great excitement in Virginia, was the occasion on which his genius first broke forth. The display which he made in the parsons’ cause, as it was popularly called, placed him, at once, at the head of his profession, in that quarter of the colony in which he practiced. In the year 1764, he removed to the county of Louisa, and resided at a place called the Roundabout. In the autumn of the same year, a contest having occurred, in the house of burgesses, in the case of Mr. James Littlepage, the returned member of the county of Hanover, who was charged with bribery and corruption, the parties were heard by counsel, before the committee of privileges and elections, and Henry was on this occasion employed by Mr. Dandridge, the rival candidate. Henry distinguished himself by a brilliant display on the subject of the rights of suffrage. Such a burst of eloquence, from a man so very plain and humble in his appearance, struck the committee with amazement; a deep silence took place during the speech, and not a sound but from his lips was to be heard in the room.

In 1765, he was elected member of the house of burgesses, with express reference to an opposition to the British stamp-act. After having waited in vain for some step to be taken by another, and when the session was within three days of its expected close, he introduced his celebrated resolutions on the stamp-act. After his death, there was found among his papers one sealed, and thus indorsed:—​‘Enclosed are the resolutions of the Virginia assembly, in 1765, concerning the stamp-act. Let my executors open this paper.’ Within was found a copy of the resolutions in his own hand-writing. On the back of the paper containing the resolutions, is the following indorsement, also in his hand-writing:—​‘The within resolutions passed the house of burgesses in May, 1765. They formed the first opposition to the stamp-act, and the scheme of taxing America by the British parliament. All the colonies, either through fear, or want of opportunity to form an opposition, or from influence of some kind or other, had remained silent. I had been for the first time elected a burgess a few days before, was young, inexperienced, unacquainted with the forms of the house, and the members that composed it. Finding the men of weight averse to opposition, and the commencement of the tax at hand, and that no person was likely to step forth, I determined to venture, and alone, unadvised, and unassisted, on a blank leaf of an old law book, wrote the within. Upon offering them to the house, violent debates ensued. Many threats were uttered, and much abuse cast on me, by the party for submission. After a long and warm contest, the resolutions passed by a very small majority, perhaps of one or two only. The alarm spread throughout America with astonishing quickness, and the ministerial party were overwhelmed. The great point of resistance to British taxation was universally established in the colonies. This brought on the war, which finally separated the two countries, and gave independence to ours. Whether this will prove a blessing or a curse, will depend upon the use our people make of the blessings which a gracious God hath bestowed on us. If they are wise, they will be great and happy. If they are of a contrary character, they will be miserable. Righteousness alone can exalt them as a nation. Reader, whoever thou art, remember this; and in thy sphere, practice virtue thyself, and encourage it in others.

P. Henry.

It was in the midst of the debate above-mentioned, that he exclaimed, ‘Cæsar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the Third—​‘Treason!’ cried the speaker—​‘Treason, treason!’ echoed from every part of the house. Henry faltered not for an instant; but taking a loftier attitude, and fixing on the speaker an eye of fire, he finished his sentence with the firmest emphasis—​‘may profit by their example. If this be treason, make the most of it.’ From this period, Mr. Henry became the idol of the people of Virginia; nor was his name confined to his native state. His influence was felt throughout the continent, and he was every where regarded as one of the great champions of colonial liberty. In the year 1769, he was admitted to the bar of the general court. He wanted that learning, whose place no genius can supply to the lawyer; and he wanted those habits of steady and persevering application, without which that learning is not to be acquired. But on questions before a jury, his knowledge of human nature, and the rapidity as well as justness of his inferences, from the flitting expressions of the countenance, as to what was passing in the hearts of his hearers, availed him fully. The defense of criminal cases was his great professional forte. The house of burgesses of Virginia, which had led the opposition to the stamp-act, kept their high ground during the whole of the ensuing contest.

Mr. Henry having removed again from Louisa to his native county, in the year 1767 or 1768, continued a member of that house till the close of the revolution; and there could be no want of boldness in any body of which he was a member. He was one of the standing committee of correspondence and inquiry concerning the pretensions of the British, which was appointed by the house, March 12, 1773. He was also of the number of delegates sent by Virginia to the first general congress of the colonies, which assembled in Philadelphia, September 4, 1774. When the congress rose, he returned home, and entered the legislature of Virginia again, determined upon prosecuting the work of national independence. In this career, he became, by his zeal and efficiency, obnoxious to the royal governor, and to all who were disposed to maintain the royal cause, or who dreaded the resort to force.

When intelligence was received of the battles of Lexington and Concord in Massachusetts, Henry summoned volunteers to meet him, in order to compel the governor of Virginia (lord Dunmore) to restore a quantity of powder which the latter had caused to be taken from the public magazine at Williamsburg. This was the first military movement in Virginia. The governor issued a proclamation, calling upon the people to resist it; but Henry, at the head of a considerable corps, obliged his lordship to consent to the payment of a pecuniary compensation for the powder withdrawn. The volunteers returned in triumph to their homes. As soon, however, as all seemed again quiet, the governor sent forth, though without any effect, a violent manifesto against ‘a certain Patrick Henry, and a number of deluded followers,’ etc.

Henry took a leading party in all the subsequent measures which ended in the prostration of the royal authority, and the erection of an independent government in Virginia. The colonial convention of 1775 elected him the colonel of the first regiment, and the commander of ‘all the forces raised and to be raised for the defense of the colony.’ He soon resigned this command, from a belief that he could serve the cause of his country more effectually in the public councils than in the field. Immediately upon his resignation he was elected a delegate to the convention, and, not long after, the first governor of the commonwealth—​a post in which he proved signally serviceable, by sustaining the public spirit during the revolutionary struggle, providing recruits and supplies for the continental army, and crushing the intrigues of the tories who infested Virginia. His administration was prolonged by reëlections until 1779, when he retired from the office, being no longer eligible without intermission, according to the constitution. As a member of the legislature, to which he at once returned, he continued to serve the great cause until the end of the war, when he was again elected governor of Virginia. The state of his affairs obliged him to resign the station in the autumn of 1786. In December of that year, he was appointed by the legislature one of the deputies to the convention, held at Philadelphia, for the purpose of revising the federal constitution. This appointment he declined, it being necessary for him to resume the practice of the law, in order to make some provision for his family. During the six following years, he regularly attended the courts, and his great reputation obtained for him lucrative business. His next appearance in political life was as a member of the convention, which was to decide the fate of the federal constitution in Virginia. Some of the features of that instrument inspired him with fears for the liberties of the country. All his great powers of eloquence and his personal influence were exerted to procure the rejection of it. The amendments proposed by Virginia originated in the objections so vehemently and plausibly urged by him and his associates. He became, nevertheless, a convert to the excellence of the system, and an earnest federalist, in the twofold acceptation of the term. In the spring of 1791, he bade a final adieu to public life, and, in 1794, to the bar, at which he had gained some brilliant triumphs, which are commemorated by his distinguished biographer William Wirt (Life of P. Henry, Philadelphia, 1817). In 1796, the post of governor of the state was once more tendered to him and refused. In the following year, his health began to decline, and continued to sink gradually until the moment of his death, which took place on the 6th of June. Mr. Henry, by his two marriages, was the father of fifteen children. By his first wife, he had six, of whom two only survived him; by his last, he had six sons and three daughters, all of whom, together with their mother, were living at his death. He had been fortunate during the latter part of his life; and, chiefly by the means of judicious purchases of lands, left his family, large as it was, not only independent, but rich. In his habits of living he was remarkably temperate and frugal. He seldom drank any thing but water; and his table was furnished in the most simple manner. His morals were strict. As a husband, a father, a master, he had no superior. He was kind and hospitable to the stranger, and most friendly and accommodating to his neighbors. He was nearly six feet high; spare, and what may be called raw-boned, with a slight stoop of the shoulders; his complexion was dark, sun-burned, and sallow, without any appearance of blood in his cheeks; his countenance grave, thoughtful and penetrating, and strongly marked with the lineaments of deep reflection: the earnestness of his manner, united with an habitual contraction or knitting of his brows, and those lines of thought with which his face was profusely furrowed, gave to his countenance, at some times, the appearance of severity. Henry was gifted with a strong and musical voice, and a most expressive countenance, and he acquired particular skill in the use of them. His style of speaking, to judge from the representations of his hearers, was altogether more successful than that of any of his cotemporaries. He could be vehement, insinuating, humorous and sarcastic by turns, and always with the utmost effect. He was a natural orator, of the highest order, combining imagination, acuteness, dexterity and ingenuity, with the most forcible action and extraordinary powers of face and utterance. As a statesman, his principal merits were sagacity and boldness. His name is brilliantly and lastingly connected with the history of his country’s emancipation.

JOHN HANCOCK.

John Hancock, was born at Quincy, near Boston, and was the son and grandson of an eminent clergyman, but, having early lost his father, was indebted for his liberal education to his uncle, a merchant of great wealth and respectability, who sent him to Harvard university, where he was graduated in 1754. He was then placed in the counting-house of his benefactor, and not long afterwards visited England, where he was present at the coronation of George III, as little prescient as the monarch himself of the part which he was destined to act in relation to the English government. On the sudden demise of his uncle, in 1764, he succeeded to his large fortune and extensive business; both of which he managed with great judgment and munificence. As a member of the provincial legislature, he exerted himself with zeal and resolution against the royal governor and the British ministry, and became so obnoxious to them, in consequence, that in the proclamation issued by general Gage, after the battle of Lexington, and a few days before that of Bunker hill, offering pardon to the rebels, he and Samuel Adams were especially excepted, their offenses being ‘of too flagitious a nature to admit of any other consideration than that of condign punishment.’ This circumstance gave additional celebrity to these two patriots, between whom, however, an unfortunate dissention took place which produced a temporary schism in the party which they headed, and a long personal estrangement between themselves. In fact, they differed so widely in their modes of living and general dispositions, that their concurrence in political measures may be considered one of the strongest proofs of their patriotism. Hancock was a magnificent liver, lavishly bountiful, and splendidly hospitable; Samuel Adams had neither the means nor the inclination for pursuing a similar course. He was studiously simple and frugal, and was of an austere, unbending character.

Hancock was president of the provincial congress of Massachusetts, until he was sent as a delegate from the province to the general congress at Philadelphia, in 1775. Soon after his arrival there, he was chosen to succeed Peyton Randolph as president of that assembly, and was the first to affix his signature to the declaration of independence. He continued to fill the chair until the year 1779, when he was compelled by disease to retire from congress. He was then elected governor of Massachusetts, and was annually chosen from 1780 to 1785. After an interval of two years, during which Mr. Bowdoin occupied the post, he was reëlected, and continued in the office until his death, Oct. 8, 1793, at the age of 56 years. In the interval, he acted as president of the convention of the state for the adoption of the federal constitution, for which he finally voted. (An able sketch of his character is contained in Tudor’s Life of Otis.) The talents of Hancock were rather useful than brilliant. He seldom spoke, but his knowledge of business, and facility in despatching it, together with his keen insight into the characters of men, rendered him peculiarly fit for public life. As the president of a deliberative assembly, he excelled. His voice was sonorous, his apprehension of questions quick; he was well acquainted with parliamentary forms, and inspired respect and confidence by his attention, impartiality and dignity. In his private life, he was eminent for his hospitality and beneficence. He was a complete gentleman of the old school, both in his appearance and manners; dressing richly, according to the fashion of the day, keeping a handsome equipage, and being distinguished for politeness and affability in social intercourse. When Washington consulted the legislature of Massachusetts upon the propriety of bombarding Boston, Hancock advised its being done immediately, if it would benefit the cause, although nearly his whole property consisted in houses and real estate in that town.

ETHAN ALLEN.

Ethan Allen, a brigadier-general in the American revolutionary army, was born in Salisbury, Connecticut, but was educated principally in Vermont, to which state his parents emigrated whilst he was yet young. His education was of a limited character. In the disturbances which agitated Vermont, he took an active part against the royal authority, in favor of the Green mountain boys, the name by which the settlers in that territory were designated.

In 1775, soon after the battle of Lexington, in compliance with the request of the legislature of Connecticut, Allen collected a body of about 230 Green mountain boys, and marched against the fortresses of Ticonderoga and Crown Point, for the purpose of taking them by assault. At Castleton, he was joined by colonel Arnold, who had received directions from the Massachusetts committee of safety to raise a corps of men for the same purpose, but, failing to accomplish that object, he determined to proceed with the small force of colonel Allen. They arrived at the lake opposite to Ticonderoga, on the evening of May 9, and, having with great difficulty procured boats, landed 83 men on the other shore during the night. The day beginning to dawn, however, Allen was obliged to attack the fort before his rear could cross the lake, having previously animated his soldiers, by a harangue, which he concluded with saying, ‘I now propose to advance before you, and in person to conduct you through the wicket-gate; but, inasmuch as it is a desperate attempt, I do not urge on any one contrary to his will. You that will undertake voluntarily, poise your fire-locks.’ They all immediately poised their fire locks. He then advanced at the head of the centre file to the wicket-gate, where a sentry snapped his fusee at him, and retreated through the covered way, followed by Allen, who formed his men upon the parade. The apartments of the commanding officer having been pointed out to him by a sentry who asked quarter, he instantly repaired thither, and, holding his sword over captain de Laplace, whom he found undressed demanded, the surrender of the fort. The latter asking him by what authority, ‘I demand it,’ said Allen, ‘in the name of the great Jehovah, and of the continental congress.’ De Laplace was constrained to comply with the summons, and the fort, with its stores and garrison, was given up. On the same day, also, Allen obtained possession of Crown Point, and soon after captured a sloop-of-war, the only armed vessel on lake Champlain, and thus accquired the entire command of the lake.

In the following autumn, he was twice despatched into Canada, to engage the inhabitants to lend their support to the American cause. In the last of these expeditions, he formed a plan, in concert with colonel Brown, to reduce Montreal. September 10, 1775, Allen accordingly crossed the river, at the head of 110 men, but was attacked, before Brown could join him, by the British troops, consisting of 500 men, and, after a most obstinate resistance, was taken prisoner. The events of his captivity he himself has recorded in a narrative compiled by him after his release, in the most singular style, but apparently with great fidelity. For some time he was kept in arms, and treated with much severity. He was sent to England as a prisoner, with an assurance, that, on his arrival there, he would meet with the halter. During the passage, extreme cruelty was exercised towards him and his fellow-prisoners. They were all, to the number of 34, thrust, hand-cuffed, into a small place in the vessel, enclosed with white-oak plank, not more than 20 feet wide by 22 long. After about a month’s confinement in Pendennis castle, near Falmouth, he was put on board a frigate, January 8, 1776, and carried to Halifax. Thence, after an imprisonment of five months, he was removed to New York. On the passage from Halifax to the latter place, Allen was treated with great kindness by captain Smith, the commander of the vessel, and evinced his gratitude by refusing to join in a conspiracy to kill the British captain and seize the frigate. His refusal prevented the execution of the plan. He remained at New York for a year and a half, sometimes in confinement, and sometimes at large, on parole. On May 6, 1778 Allen was exchanged for colonel Campbell, and immediately afterwards repaired to the head-quarters of General Washington, by whom he was received with much respect. As his health was impaired he returned to Vermont, after having made an offer of his services to the commander-in-chief, in case of his recovery. His arrival in Vermont was celebrated by the discharge of cannon; and he was appointed to the command of the state militia, as a mark of esteem for his patriotism and military talents. A fruitless attempt was made by the British to bribe him to lend his support to a union of Vermont with Canada. He died suddenly at his estate in Colchester, February 13, 1789.

General Allen was a man of strong and enterprising, but haughty and restless mind. Although his education had been circumscribed, he was daring in his pretensions to knowledge, and bold and peremptory in his assertions. Besides the narrative of his captivity, which we have noticed, and a number of pamphlets in the controversy with New York, he published a ‘Vindication of the Opposition of the Inhabitants of Vermont to the Government of New York, and their right to form an independent State,’ 1779, and a work, entitled, ‘Allen’s Theology, or the Oracles of Reason,’ the first formal publication in the United States openly directed against the Christian religion. Allen was a confirmed infidel. He adopted some of the most fantastical and absurd notions imaginable, believing, with Pythagoras, that the soul of man, after death, would live again in beasts, birds, fishes, etc. He often told his friends, that he himself would live again under the appearance of a large white horse. However, there is an anecdote extant, which proves that he professed to entertain those ideas more from an affectation of singularity, than from conviction. Whilst sitting in his library, conversing with a physician by the name of Elliot, Allen was informed that his daughter was dying, and desired to speak with him. He immediately repaired to her chamber, followed by Dr. Elliot. His wife was distinguished for her piety, and had instructed her daughter in the principles of Christianity. As soon as her father stood at her bedside, she said to him, ‘I am about to die; shall I believe in the principles you have taught me, or shall I believe in what my mother has taught me?’ He became greatly agitated; his chin quivered; his whole frame shook; and, after waiting a few moments, he replied, ‘Believe what your mother has taught you.’

BENEDICT ARNOLD.

Benedict Arnold was one of the most distinguished generals in the American army during the earlier part of the contest of the colonies with Great Britain, and subsequently infamous as a traitor to his country, was born in Connecticut, of obscure parentage, and received an education suitable to an humble condition. The occupations of his youth were not fitted to prepare him for the functions which he was called upon to exercise in the sequel. At first a dealer in horses, he sustained losses in his trade. Eager for renown, greedy of money, the troubles of his country inspired him with the hope of acquiring fame and fortune by the profession of arms: accordingly, on the breaking out of the revolutionary war, he embraced the cause of his countrymen with enthusiasm, and took the command of a company of volunteers at New Haven. He soon won a high military reputation. Washington, encouraged by secret advices that the Canadians were inclined to make part of the Union, projected the surprise of Quebec. This hazardous undertaking required leaders at once active, vigilant, bold, and inflexibly patient. He committed it to Montgomery and colonel Arnold, as the most capable. He exhorted them, with extreme earnestness, to treat the Canadians as friends, as fellow-citizens, and to punish severely the least irregularities of the soldiery. Arnold began his march in the month of September. He conducted his small force through deserts which man had never before penetrated. The river of Kennebeck had overflowed its banks; he crossed it by swimming, or on rafts. Unknown streams presented a new obstacle: he diverted their course. The snow fell in abundance; a few hours of sun during the day were insufficient to thaw the ice formed in the long and severe nights of the northern autumn; but nothing could arrest his progress. He was always in the van with the pioneers, who cut a passage through this wild country, and, at the end of each march, had arrived before the enemy knew of his approach. He thus put in practice a maxim which he was fond of repeating: ‘In war, expedition is equivalent to strength.’ The last division, conducted by a man less resolute and persevering, returned; while he, at the head of the two first, sustained the courage of the soldiers, who were exhausted by fatigue, hunger and every species of suffering. After two months of toil, all impediments were overcome, and he encamped before the fortress, but with a band so much enfeebled, that he was obliged to await the arrival of Montgomery, who approached by another route. Montgomery died gloriously in an assault, December 31, 1775. Arnold was severely wounded in the leg, and forced to convert the siege into a blockade. He was not, however, to be daunted by any reverse. From the bed to which his wound confined him, he infused into the little army, the command of which had now devolved upon him, his own spirit of determination and confidence. The enterprise failed: the courage and intelligence which he exhibited throughout, placed him, nevertheless, in the first class of American officers. He served with better fortune, and still greater distinction, in the subsequent campaigns, and bore a considerable part in that in which Burgoyne and his army were made prisoners. He fought with his usual intrepidity in the engagement which immediately preceded the capitulation. The first to throw himself into the intrenchments of the enemy, he was animating his men by his example, when a ball shattered the leg already wounded at the siege of Quebec. As he was borne from the ranks to his tent, he still issued orders for the continuance of the assault. The boldness of Arnold was so great, that he was accused of a disposition to entangle himself rashly in perilous situations; but it could not be denied, that his rapid discernment supplied him, in the midst of danger, with the surest expedients, and that success always justified his daring. The admiration of his fellow-citizens kept pace with his services. His love of glory was accompanied with an equally strong love of pleasure and dissipation, and he was very unscrupulous about the mode of obtaining the means of gratifying it. His ill-gotten wealth he squandered in frivolous expenses, or mere ostentation. Montreal, the second city of Canada, was, under his command, a scene of injustice and rapacity, and the Canadians soon abandoned the design of joining the confederation. The attempt on Canada was abandoned, and, the wounds of Arnold being not yet healed, he could be invested only with some stationary command. Washington, though he detested his vices, did not wish to leave his talents idle. The English having evacuated Philadelphia, he directed Arnold to take possession of that city with some troops of the Pennsylvania line,—​a delicate charge for a man so prone to extend his powers, and define them according to his interests. It was not long before he displayed in this city a magnificence as foreign to the habits of the country, as it was unseasonable in the midst of the calamities of war. He even lodged in his house the French envoy and all his suite on their arrival. From this time, too, he began to profess an extraordinary attachment to the French, and great zeal for an alliance with them. To relieve himself from the difficulties into which his extravagance had plunged him, he resorted to the same oppression and extortion which had rendered his authority odious to the Canadians. Under pretense of the wants of the army, he forbade the shopkeepers to sell or buy; he then put their goods at the disposal of his agents, and caused them afterwards to be resold with a profit. He prostituted his authority to enrich his accomplices, and squabbled with them about the division of the prey. The citizens applied for redress to the courts of justice. But, with his military authority as his shield, he set at defiance both justice and the laws. At length, however, a representation of the grievances which the state was suffering, was made to congress by the president of the executive council of Pennsylvania, a man of firm and upright character, who had endeavored in vain to repress the overweening and predatory spirit of Arnold, and a committee was appointed to inquire into the subject. Arnold replied to the charges with arrogance. Some members of congress were of opinion that he should be suspended from his military functions until the investigation of his public conduct was brought to an issue; but the accusation had become an affair of party, and he had influence enough to cause this proposition to be set aside. Congress at length resolved to lay the complaints against him before the commander-in-chief.

As soon as Arnold saw that the resolutions of congress would be of this tenor, he resigned the command which he held in Philadelphia. He was tried before a court martial, and condemned, January 20, 1779, to be reprimanded by the commander-in-chief. Congress ratified the sentence, and Washington, having caused the culprit to appear before him, performed the task with the considerate delicacy which he thought due to so distinguished an officer. Arnold, however, quitted the army, and, thenceforth, nourished an implacable hatred towards the cause which he had so brilliantly defended. The embarrassment of his affairs was at this time such, that private aid would not suffice to extricate him. He had, some time before, formed a partnership with some owners of privateers, who paid his share of the expenses of equipment, and expected to be compensated for their advances by his countenance and protection; but the chances were adverse, and, instead of profits to be divided, there were losses to be borne. Arnold, now without credit or authority, was no longer regarded by the owners as any thing more than an ordinary partner. They exacted his proportion of the loss, and their knowledge of his difficulties only served to render them more urgent in their suit. In this extremity he tried a last resort.

Congress, at the commencement of the revolution, committed an error which proved of great detriment to the finances. It entrusted some officers with agencies which had no immediate connection with the business of command or military service. Arnold, the least proper for such trusts, was charged with considerable ones, and had large claims for moneys and stores furnished in the expedition to Canada. The commissioners to whom they were referred for settlement, reduced them very considerably. He appealed from their decision to congress, who pronounced that the commissioners had shown more lenity than rigor in the liquidation of his accounts. Disappointed in all his expectations, Arnold at last determined to betray his country, and to make his treason in a high degree useful to England, that it might procure him a full pardon for his share in the revolt of the colonies. He wished to be regarded as a subject returned to his allegiance, and worthy of the honorable rewards due to faithful and virtuous citizens. As a first step, the British commanders were to be made acquainted with his discontent, but in so guarded a manner as to leave a retreat open in case the offers which might be made to him should not prove satisfactory. Particular circumstances facilitated the communications between them.

As soon as the English commander was apprized of the disposition of Arnold, he despatched emissaries charged with such offers as were most likely to determine a man whose hesitation was only about the means and conditions. Some of Arnold’s proceedings, about this period, warrant the supposition, that he at first meant to tamper with his brother officers, but relinquished this design on more mature reflection. He took good care that nothing of his real intentions should be divined by the subaltern English agents; but there was, at New York, a man whom he thought he could trust without risk. This was Charles Beverley Robinson, an American by birth, and a colonel in the British army, whose property all lay within the United States. His mansion, situated on the Hudson, was included in the American lines, and three miles lower than the forts upon the opposite bank. The commanding officers of West Point, having found it deserted, had made it their quarters. Arnold wrote to this officer, that the ingratitude of his country, and other considerations to be afterwards disclosed, had produced a change in his political sentiments; that he aspired to merit, thenceforward, the favor of the king; that he could render signal services; and wished to enter into a correspondence on the subject with Sir Henry Clinton. This overture was well received, and, a direct communication with the English general being established, it was agreed that Arnold should dissemble, with the utmost care, his discontent; that he should make every effort to obtain a command from general Washington; that, as soon as he succeeded, he should consult with Sir Henry Clinton as to his future movements, and be guided by the instructions which would be given by him. From this time, he entirely altered his manner and language. He affected to have forgotten the affront of the reprimand, and pretended to feel a more lively attachment than ever to the cause of independence.

The country through which the Hudson flows was the principal theatre of the war. A station in this quarter would, he thought, best answer his purpose. He was well acquainted with the localities. He examined, with minute attention, in what spot, by what operations, he could most beneficially second the enterprises of the British, and which was the most important position to betray into their hands. New York was, at this time, in the hands of the British, who had assembled there the greatest part of their troops. The fortress of West Point, a military station of very great importance, is distant twenty leagues from this city. Arnold aimed at the chief command of this post, with a view of betraying it into the hands of the British, with the garrisons, and the arms and immense stores which were deposited there; for Fort Clinton contained, besides the ammunition necessary for its own defense, the stock of powder of the whole army. The command of the fort had been entrusted to general Howe, an officer of tried courage, but of limited capacity, who could be employed elsewhere without inconvenience to the service. The wounds of Arnold did not as yet allow him to mount on horseback; they did not disqualify him, however, for conducting the defense of a citadel. He had early secured the patronage of some of the leading men of the State of New York, and Washington was prevailed upon to consign West Point to him. Being a traitor to his own country, he was apprehensive lest those to whom he was about to sell himself, might prove treacherous to him. He felt anxious to receive the price of his ignominious bargain at the moment of its ratification; but he could extort nothing more than a promise of 30,000 pounds sterling, and the assurance that he should be maintained in the British army in the rank of brigadier-general, which he already held. About a month previous (July 10, 1780,) the first division of the French army arrived at Newport, in the State of Rhode Island. The situation of the English became every day more and more critical. Sir Henry Clinton had relinquished his projected expedition. He urged Arnold to fulfill his engagements, and supposed the thing easy for a general who was master of the forts and the river; but there were, in fact, numerous obstacles in the way, and of these the presence of the commander-in-chief was the most serious. Arnold knew his vigilance and activity. He insisted, therefore, with Clinton on the necessity of deliberation, adding, however, that all should be in readiness to improve the first favorable opportunity. A young officer of foreign extraction served in the British Army. He was endowed with all the qualities which render a man useful to his country, and dear to society. This was John Andre, adjutant-general of the British army. General Sir Henry Clinton had taken him as his aid-de-camp, and did not disdain him as a counselor. To him Clinton committed the business of negotiating with Arnold. A correspondence ensued between Arnold and Andre, under the names of Gustavus and Anderson. Mercantile relations were feigned, to disguise the real object, and an American, whose dwelling stood between the lines that separated the two armies, served as a common messenger. At this period the rumor began to spread of a second division of the French army having sailed, and that Washington only awaited its arrival to begin the siege of New York. The marshal de Castries, who then administered the department of the marine with so much reputation, had, in fact, advised the French envoy of the approaching departure of a second expedition. Clinton caused Arnold to be told that it was time to act; that a day must be fixed for the surrender of the forts; and that, if time were given to the allies to effect a junction, it might no longer be in the power of Arnold himself to fulfill his engagements. He asked, also, plans of the forts, and the instructions necessary for the safe guidance of the British troops when they were sent to take possession of West Point. Arnold replied to these new importunities in the language concerted with Andre: ‘Our master goes away the 17th of this month. He will be absent five or six days. Let us avail ourselves of this interval to arrange our business. Come immediately and meet me at the lines, and we will settle definitively the risks and profits of the copartnership. All will be ready; but this inteview is indispensable, and must precede the sailing of our ship.’ It was thus that Arnold apprized Clinton of the approaching departure of the commander-in-chief. Washington had, in fact, given a rendezvous to count de Rochambeau, general of the French land forces, and to the chevalier de Ternay, commander of the squadron. They were to meet at Hartford, in Connecticut, to confer about the operations of this and the ensuing campaigns. But Arnold was not correctly advised as to the period of Washington’s departure, and the mistake led to important consequences. He had, in other letters, solicited an interview with Andre, and he now exacted it as a condition indispensable for the prosecution of the enterprise. Hitherto, everything had succeded beyond his hopes. There had been a total absence of those mysterious rumors, and vague surmises, which accompany, and seem to portend, a great conspiracy. Never had so momentous a plot been more felicitously brought so near to its execution. This profound secrecy was owing to the precaution of Arnold, in not having unbosomed himself to any of his own countrymen, and in admitting only Andre and Robinson as correspondents. He took credit for this policy, and his urgency for an interview with Andre arose chiefly from his resolution to confide to the hands of this officer alone the maps and particular information which Clinton demanded.

The 17th of September, the day specified for the departure of Washington, passed, and he was still at West Point. Arnold advertised Clinton of the delay, and explained his mistake by mentioning a circumstance which had not been before noted. The 17th fell on a Sunday,—​a day which the Americans consecrated entirely to the duties of religion, and on which most of them abstained even from journeys, which, elsewhere, would be thought indispensable. Clinton admitted this explanation the more readily as he knew that Washington respected the scruples of others, and was himself very religious. To obviate untoward accidents, it was agreed that Andre should leave New York only on the 19th of September, and reach the American forts about the 20th. He accordingly embarked in the night on board the Vulture sloop-of-war. Clinton sent with him Beverly Robinson, the colonel through whom Arnold had made his first overture. He expected that the prudence of this officer would moderate the ardor of Andre. Moreover, Arnold occupied Robinson’s house, and the private affairs, which he, as a refugee, had to adjust with congress, furnished a plausible pretense for his approaching the American lines and posts. September 20, they arrived almost opposite to fort Montgomery, situated on the same side as West Point, five miles lower down. They cast anchor in sight of the nearest American redoubts, but beyond the reach of some small cannon, the only artillery of those redoubts. The Vulture got aground at low water. The movement on board, and some signals which she made, alarmed the vigilance of colonel Livingston, who commanded at Verplanck’s Point. He ascertained, on reconnoitering, that the sloop might be sunk by one or two pieces of heavy cannon; and as those of the forts which he commanded were of too small a calibre, he requested larger from Arnold. The general refused them, to the great surprise of Livingston. But tacit obedience is the life of discipline, and he acquiesced in some idle excuse. Two days elapsed after the Sunday, and still Washington had, apparently, made no preparations for departure. Arnold was himself uneasy at this disappointment; but the apprehension of exciting suspicion by too frequent communications prevented him from making it known to Clinton. The English general was informed of it through another channel. He knew the unprincipled character of Arnold, and could comprehend the probability of a snare masked by a counterfeit scheme of treason. He was the more disquieted as Andre and Robinson were already far on their way; and there was equal inconvenience in leaving them ignorant, or advising them of their danger. If Arnold were sincere in his defection, his return to New York would disconcert all Arnold’s measures, and expose him to serious risks. If he deceived the British, all the risks were for Andre and Robinson. They had not, as yet, been able to communicate with the shore, but, persuaded that Washington must have set out for Hartford, they put in execution a stratagem, arranged beforehand with Arnold, to facilitate the rendezvous. Robinson wrote to the American general, Putnam, as if to transact with him business relating to his property, and proposed an interview. In this letter was enclosed another to general Arnold, wherein Robinson solicited a conference with him, in case Putnam should be absent. The packet, being directed to Arnold, would be opened only by him; but if, perchance, it fell into other hands, the whole could be read without exciting suspicion of a plot. This letter was despatched to the shore by a flag of truce as soon as the sloop had cast anchor. It happened to be on the very day fixed by Washington for his departure. He had never meant to set out earlier, and had neither sanctioned nor contradicted the various rumors current on the subject. He left his quarters in the morning, and, on reaching the bank, found Arnold there with his barge, ready to transport him to the other side. In crossing, Washington remarked the sloop with the English flag, and took a spy-glass to observe her more narrowly. Some moments after, he gave to an officer near him, in a low voice, according to his usual mariner, an order probably of no consequence, which Arnold was unable to overhear. Arnold was guilty, and whatever he could not immediately penetrate, alarmed his fears. He supposed that the general could not remain ignorant of the circumstance of the flag of truce, and, doubtful even whether he might not be already acquainted with it, he thought it well to show him the two letters which he had received, asking him, at the same time, what course he ought to pursue. Washington, in the presence of several persons, dissuaded him from seeing Robinson, and directed him to give for answer to this officer, that his private business appertained exclusively to the jurisdiction of the civil authority. They touched the shore just as this conversation ceased. The commander-in-chief, whose presence kept Arnold in the greatest perplexity, landed, and pursued his journey to Hartford. Thus was the main obstacle removed, and the plot could proceed. The opinion uttered by Washington, in such positive terms, concerning the conference with Robinson,—​the order heard by several persons present,—​became, however, a law for Arnold, with respect to his ostensible conduct. It was, in this way, the first obstacle that thwarted the measures concerted between him and Andre. They could not meet publicly under the auspices of a flag of truce, and, though Andre had used this means to reach the lines, they were obliged to arrange a secret interview.

On the morning after the departure of Washington, Arnold sought out a man called Joshua Smith, well known to be devoted to the English, although he resided within the American posts. He made him the bearer of two passports to be carried on board the Vulture, one for Andre, under the fictitious name of Anderson; the other for Charles Beverley Robinson, who had not the same reason for practicing disguise. He charged him with a letter also, in which he urged them to repair to him on shore. Smith waited until nightfall, and then proceeded to the English sloop in a boat which Arnold had provided for him. Andre and Robinson expected that Arnold would himself visit them, and they were surprised when his emissary, Smith, appeared before them alone. Robinson declared that he would not go on shore, and used every effort to deter his companion; but the young man, full of impatience and ardor, saw only the chances of success, would listen to no remonstrance, and could not brook the idea, either of returning to New York without having executed his mission, or of exposing the main enterprise to miscarriage, by a caution which his rivals would infallibly stigmatise as cowardice. He put on a gray surtout, to hide his uniform, and accompanied Smith on shore. Arnold was waiting to receive him at the water’s edge. They discoursed there for some time; but, as they were liable to be surprised, Arnold led him towards the house of Smith, when he immediately laid before him plans of the forts, a memoir, composed (for a better use) by the chief engineer, Duportail, on the means of attacking and defending them, and minute instructions with respect to the measures to be taken by the British for the occupation of them, when he (Arnold) should have done his part in opening the way. They presumed that Washington had already reached Hartford, and they were right; for he was there, at the same hour, in consultation with the French commander.

Arnold and Andre, calculating anxiously the probable length of Washington’s absence, supposed he would return in three or four days, that is, on the 25th or 26th of September, and one or other of these days was fixed for the execution of the plot. It was settled that Andre should go back in all haste to New York; that the English troops, which were already embarked, under pretense of a distant expedition, should be held ready to ascend the river, and sail at the first signal; that to facilitate the reduction of West point, Arnold should march out of the forts all the troops destined for the defense, and entangle them in gorges and ravines, where he would pretend to await the English assailants, while these were to debark on another side, and enter by passes left unguarded; and, at all events, the garrison and troops were to be so distributed, that, if they did not surrender at the first summons, they must be immediately cut in pieces. He informed Andre that the chain which was stretched across the river from West point to Constitution island, forming, when perfect, an effectual bar to the passage of the river, was now no longer an impediment. He had detached a link, ostensibly to have it mended; the smiths would not return it for some days; and the two ends of the chain were held together by a fastening too weak to bear even a slight concussion. The English would know at what moment they were to advance, by the kindling of fires, in the night, under the directions of Arnold, on the adjacent eminences. A single cannon fired from their ships, to be followed by a similar discharge from the shore, would proclaim that they had perceived the signals. Other tokens agreed upon were to furnish, successively, information of the several distances of the British forces in their approach. When they had arrived within three miles of the fortress, two English officers, in American uniform, were to ride full gallop to Arnold’s quarters, to learn how matters stood and to hasten with the intelligence to the British naval commander. Then only was Arnold to put in motion that portion of the garrison which remained in the works, and station it at posts which would not be attacked. They agreed upon the countersign to be given on the 24th and 25th. Arnold delivered to the Englishman drafts of all the works, and of the passes leading to them, several memoirs, written with his own hand, and full returns of the garrison and the forces of each division of the army. He had never before allowed a single paper to go out of his hands, which might expose him to detection. But he now saw no danger in confiding these to Andre, who was to reëmbark directly on board the sloop, and make sail for New York. Andre returned alone to the beach, whence a boat was to convey him to the Vulture. But this arrangement was defeated by an obstacle wholly unexpected. At an early hour, Livingston, still disturbed at the proximity of the sloop, had, of his own authority, caused a four-pounder to be dragged from his redoubt to a point of land from which the shot could reach the vessel. She was aground, and had already sustained some damage from the piece of the American officer, when she began to float again at the rising of the tide. Robinson took advantage of this circumstance to weigh anchor, and remove some miles lower down, beyond the reach of similar attack. This change of station attracted the notice of the master and rowers of the boat in which Andre expected to regain the sloop. They were Americans. The movements which they had witnessed for the two last days were unusual; and although men of their description, accustomed to ferry all persons indifferently from one side of the river to the other, did not affect to be of any party, they were unwilling to commit themselves. When Andre proposed to them to convey him to the sloop, they told him that it was too far, and peremptorily refused to go. He went back immediately to Arnold, and urged him to exert his authority in so serious a predicament. But the latter, perplexed at his unlooked-for-appearance, and already harassed with various disappointments, durst not attempt to compel the men, and told him he must submit to return by land; to lay aside his uniform altogether, and assume another dress. Andre changed his coat for one which Smith provided. Arnold now wished to withdraw the papers which he had entrusted to him; he thought it hazardous to send them by land. But Andre was very desirous of showing to Clinton with what punctuality he had executed his mission. These papers were a trophy of which he would not, therefore, allow himself to be dispossessed. He observed to Arnold, that danger of any kind could now no longer be in question, except so far as to show that they both despised it; and added, that he would keep the papers, which brought him into greater peril than Arnold, and, to allay his fears, would secrete them in his boots. Arnold submitted, and, leaving Andre in Smith’s house, returned to his quarters, from which he had been absent since the day before. The Patrol, spread through the whole neighborhood, made it imprudent for Andre to begin his journey before twilight. He was accompanied by Smith: each had a passport from Arnold, ‘to go to the lines of White plains, or lower, if the bearer thought proper; he being on public business.’ They were accosted, at Compond, by an American officer of militia, who told them that it was too late for them to reach, that evening, any other quarters. In order not to awaken his suspicions, they resolved to pass the night there. The next day, 23d, they crossed the Hudson to King’s ferry, pushing forward when they were not observed, and slakening their pace to conceal their eagerness, wherever they were likely to be seen. By means of their passports, they traversed all the American posts without molestation. They arrived, uninterrupted, a little beyond Pine’s bridge, a village situated on the Croton: they had not, however, crossed the lines, although they could descry the ground occupied by the English videttes. Smith, looking all around, and perceiving no one, said to Andre, ‘You are safe—​good bye,’ and retook, at full speed, the road by which they had come. Andre, on his part, believing himself out of danger, and all further precaution superfluous, put spurs to his horse. He had proceeded four leagues onward with the same good fortune; he could see the Hudson once more, and was about entering Tarrytown, the border village, when a man, armed with a gun, sprung suddenly from the thickets, and seizing the reins of his bridle, exclaimed, ‘Where are you bound?’ At the same moment, two others ran up, who were armed in like manner, and formed, with the first part of the patrol of volunteer militia that guarded the lines. They were not in uniform, and Andre, preöccupied by the idea that he was no longer on enemy’s ground, thought that they must be of his own party. It did not, therefore, occur to him to show him his passport, which was sufficient to deceive Americans, and could not alter his destination, if those who arested him were of the English side. Instead of answering their question, he asked them, in his turn, where they belonged to. They replied, ‘To below,’—​words referring to the course of the river, and implying that they were of the English party. ‘And so do I,’ said Andre, confirmed in his mistake by this stratagem. ‘I am,’ continued he, in a tone of command, ‘an English officer on urgent business, and I do not wish to be longer detained.’ ‘You belong to our enemies,’ was the rejoinder, ‘and we arrest you.’ Andre, struck with astonishment at this unexpected language, presented his passport; but this paper, after the confession he had just made, only served to render his case more suspicious. He offered them gold, his horse, and promised them large rewards, and permanent provision from the English government, if they would let him escape. These young men, whom such offers did but animate the more in their duty, replied, that they wanted nothing. They drew off his boots, and detected the fatal papers. They no longer hesitated to carry him before colonel Jameson, who commanded the out-posts. When questioned by that officer he still called himself Anderson, the name mentioned in his passport, and evinced no discomposure; he had recovered all of his presence of mind, and, forgetful of his own danger, thought only of Arnold’s, and of the means of extricating him. To apprise him of it safely, he begged Jameson to inform the commanding officer of West Point that Anderson, the bearer of his passport, was detained. Jameson thought it more simple to order him to be conducted to Arnold. He was already on the way, and the thread of the conspiracy was about to be resumed in the interview of the accomplices, when the American colonel, recollecting that the papers found upon the prisoner were in the hand-writing of Arnold himself, and adverting to the several extraordinary features of the business, sent, in all haste, after the pretended Anderson, and had him conveyed, under guard, to Old Salem. He despatched, at the same time, an express to Washington, charged with a letter containing a circumstantial account of this affair, and with the drafts and other papers taken from the prisoner. But the commander-in-chief, who set out on the same day, the 23d of September, to return to his army, had pursued a different route from that by which he went to Hartford, and the messenger was compelled to retrace his steps without having seen him. This delay proved the salvation of Arnold.