"I cannot describe to you, M. le Chevalier, to what degree I am astounded by this piece of news.... That Arnold, a man who, although not so highly esteemed as has been supposed in Europe, had nevertheless given proof of talent, of patriotism, and especially of the most brilliant courage, should at once destroy his very existence and should sell his country to the tyrants whom he had fought against with glory, is an event, M. le Chevalier, which confounds and distresses me, and, if I must confess it, humiliates me to a degree that I cannot express. I would give anything in the world if Arnold had not shared our labors with us, and if this man whom it still pains me to call a scoundrel had not shed his blood for the American cause. My knowledge of his personal courage led me to expect that he would decide to blow his brains out. This was my first hope. At all events, it is probable that he will do so when he reaches New York, whither the English sloop proceeded immediately upon receiving Arnold on board....
"I am not writing to M. le Comte de Rochambeau or to M. le Chevalier de Ternay. I beg you to communicate to them this incredible story.... What will the officers of the French army say when they see a general abandon and basely sell his country after having defended it so well? You can bear witness, M. le Chevalier, that this is the first atrocity that has been heard of in our army. But if, on the one hand, they hear of the infamy of Arnold, they are bound to admire the disinterestedness of a few countrymen who happened to meet Mr. André with a passport from General Arnold, and on the mere suspicion of his being a friend of England made him a prisoner, refusing at the same time his horse, his watch, and four hundred guineas which he offered them if they would allow him to continue upon his way....
"I shall conclude my long letter, M. le Chevalier, by referring to a subject which must touch every human heart. The unhappy Mrs. Arnold did not know a word of this conspiracy. Her husband told her before going away that he was flying, never to come back, and he left her lying unconscious. When she came to herself she fell into frightful convulsions and completely lost her reason. We did everything we could to quiet her, but she looked upon us as the murderers of her husband.... The horror with which her husband's conduct has inspired her, and a thousand other feelings, make her the most unhappy of women.
"P.S.—She has recovered her reason this morning, and, as you know I am upon very good terms with her, she sent for me to go up to her chamber. General Washington and every one else sympathize warmly with this estimable woman whose face and whose youthfulness make her so interesting. She is going to Philadelphia, and I implore you, when you return, to use your influence in her favor.... Your influence and your opinion, emphatically expressed, may prevent her from being visited with a vengeance which she does not deserve. General Washington will protect her also. As for myself, you know that I have always been fond of her, and at this moment she interests me intensely. We are certain that she knew nothing of the plot."
This letter expressed the hope that André would be hanged according to military law, because, being a man of high rank and influence, his fate would serve as a warning to spies of lesser degree. Lafayette was one of the court martial that tried and sentenced him; and we have no proof that he hesitated for an instant in the performance of his stem duty or that he ever regretted it. Yet from a letter to Madame Lafayette, written after André's death, we know that Lafayette felt his charm, as did every one else who knew the unfortunate young Englishman. "He was an interesting young man," Lafayette wrote. "He conducted himself in a manner so frank, so noble, and so delicate that I cannot help feeling for him infinite sorrow."
Arnold, as everybody knows, did not blow out his brains, but, becoming literally a turncoat, donned the red of the British uniform, and took his unwelcome place among the gentlemen officers of King George. In the following spring he was doing work of destruction in Virginia; but he was not trusted by his new companions, and two British colonels supposed to be under his orders were secretly charged with the duty of keeping an eye on him. It was in Virginia that his path and Lafayette's crossed once more.
Lafayette meantime had been a prey to restlessness. Nothing happened in the North more interesting than camp routine and the exchange of official visits. During the summer he had been given command of a special corps of light infantry culled from all branches of the service, a body of men in which he took infinite pride. "Its position is always that of advance-guard," he wrote Adrienne. "It is independent of the main army, and it is far too fine for our present pacific situation." He lavished training and affection upon it and pampered it by sending to France for luxuries like sabers and banners and plumes. While less needed than coats and shoes, such things were easier to transport. But even in the matter of clothing this favored corps was better off than the rest of the army. A French officer who visited Lafayette's camp thought the uniforms of both men and officers smart. Each soldier wore a sort of helmet made of hard leather, with a crest of horsehair.
Before the army went into winter quarters many Frenchmen came to "the camp of the marquis" twenty miles from New York, making the pilgrimage not so much from love of him or to sample the punch which, according to the custom of the time, he kept "stationary on the table" for the benefit of his guests, as out of curiosity to see Washington's headquarters, which were not far away. Most of them were impressed by the good horses owned by American generals and astonished at the simplicity of their other equipment. Some "who had made war as colonels long before Lafayette left school" were the least bit jealous of his youth and influence. Several had entered into an agreement not to accept service under him; but all were flattered that a Frenchman held such high place in public esteem. One of them asserted with complacency that "private letters from him have frequently produced more effect upon some states than the strongest exhortations of Congress."
When the army went into winter quarters again he had even more time upon his hands. He wrote many letters. One went almost every month to his powerful friend at court, Vergennes, urging speedy aid. The military needs of the country were never absent from his thoughts, even while he was taking his French friends, including De Noailles, on a personally conducted tour of near-by battle-fields and cities. He did not trust himself far from headquarters, for fear that his chief might need him or that he might miss some opportunity. When Colonel Laurens received his instructions before starting for Paris he took care to be on hand, to give expert advice on court customs and prejudices. He was a young man who well knew his influence upon two continents, and was so eager to use it that a man of less winning personality in similar circumstances might have got himself heartily disliked.
His eagerness to do something was heightened by his belief that Europe misunderstood, and thought Americans either unready or unwilling to fight. His vivid imagination got to work again and juggled with facts and figures until he became convinced that a surprise attack upon New York could do no possible harm and might capture the city. He detailed this plan to Washington, who saw the weakness of his reasoning and rejected it in a kind letter signed "sincerely and affectionately yours," reminding Lafayette that "we must consult our means rather than our wishes" and that "to endeavor to recover our reputation we should take care not to injure it the more."