General Carleton took possession of Crown Point, and for a few days menaced Ticonderoga; but, being convinced of his inability so late in the season to accomplish his main purpose of penetrating to Albany, he retired with his fleet and army down the Lake to seek winter-quarters in Canada. It was no longer necessary to keep up a formidable force in the northern department, and a large part of the troops was ordered from Ticonderoga to reinforce General Washington in Jersey, then retreating before a victorious enemy. Arnold was in this division, and he joined Washington's camp on the west side of the Delaware, a week preceding the memorable battle of Trenton. A letter had already been despatched to him, which had missed him in his route, containing directions to proceed immediately to Rhode Island, and, in conjunction with General Spencer, who commanded on that station, to rally the New England militia, and be prepared to resist the enemy, then hovering on the coast with a large number of ships.
He remained three days with the Commander-in-chief, and hastened to Providence, the headquarters of the eastern army. The British landed and took possession of Newport. The winter was passed by Spencer and Arnold in forming plans, and making preparations, to attack the garrison on Rhode Island; but these were all defeated by the impossibility of procuring troops sufficient for such an enterprise. Arnold spent some time in Boston, for the purpose of consulting with the principal persons of Massachusetts on this project, and of engaging the legislature of that State to call out an adequate force of the militia to secure its success. The attempt failed. All the States of New England were equally interested in driving the enemy from this new lodgment within their borders, all were equally disposed to do it; but the exhaustion of the last campaign could not be repaired in a moment, nor was the ardor of the people at so high a pitch as to induce them in the depth of winter to seek an enemy, contented to remain on an island, and from whom no immediate danger was apprehended. It is moreover to be kept in mind, that every effort was now making to fill up the Continental regiments, and reinforce the dwindled army under Washington at Morristown, as well as to prepare for the expected invasion from the north in the spring.
While Arnold was engaged in this service, an incident happened, which made him begin to talk of the ingratitude of his country, and which had an important bearing on his future destiny. In February, 1777, Congress appointed five new major-generals, without including him in the list, all of whom were his juniors in rank, and one of them, General Lincoln, was promoted from the militia. It may well be imagined what effect this tacit censure and public slight would have on a person so sensitive to military glory, and whose reputation and prospects rested on that basis alone. He was totally unprepared for such a testimony of the sense of Congress, and his astonishment was not less than his indignation; but he had the self-command to conceal his emotions, and to demean himself with more moderation, than might have been expected. Washington was surprised and concerned, as he feared the ill effects, which such a practice might have upon the officers, knowing the extreme jealousy with which military men regard the subject of rank and promotion, and considering this feeling as essential to the vital interests of the army. He wrote to Arnold a soothing letter, begging him to take no hasty steps, and expressing his conviction that there was some mistake, which would in due time be rectified. He added assurances of his own endeavors to promote what he deemed in this case the claim of justice as well as of policy.
Arnold replied in a subdued tone, but not without symptoms of strong feeling. "Congress undoubtedly have a right," said he, "of promoting those, whom, from their abilities and their long and arduous services, they esteem most deserving. Their promoting junior officers to the rank of major-generals, I view as a very civil way of requesting my resignation, as unqualified for the office I hold. My commission was conferred unsolicited, and received with pleasure only as a means of serving my country. With equal pleasure I resign it, when I can no longer serve my country with honor. The person, who, void of the nice feelings of honor, will tamely condescend to give up his right, and retain a commission at the expense of his reputation, I hold as a disgrace to the army and unworthy of the glorious cause in which we are engaged. When I entered the service of my country, my character was unimpeached. I have sacrificed my interest, ease, and happiness in her cause. It is rather a misfortune than a fault, that my exertions have not been crowned with success. I am conscious of the rectitude of my intentions. In justice, therefore, to my own character, and for the satisfaction of my friends, I must request a court of inquiry into my conduct; and, though I sensibly feel the ingratitude of my countrymen, yet every personal injury shall be buried in my zeal for the safety and happiness of my country, in whose cause I have repeatedly fought and bled, and am ready at all times to risk my life." No man certainly could talk in a more patriotic strain, and perhaps it is not too great a tax upon our faith to believe, that he was at this time as sincere as most patriots, who are reduced to the extremity of enumerating their disinterested sacrifices and services, as a vindication of their character, and a proof that the public have done them wrong.
General Washington was prompt to render the aid he had promised. He wrote to some of his friends in Congress on the subject, and requested General Greene, who was then at Philadelphia, to make particular inquiries. The avowed reason was, that the members from each State insisted upon having general officers proportioned to the number of troops furnished by it, and, as Connecticut had already two major-generals, there was no vacancy for another. "I confess," said General Washington, "this is a strange mode of reasoning, but it may show you that the promotion, which was due to your seniority, was not overlooked for want of merit in you." To the request for a court of inquiry he replied, that, as no specific charge had been alleged, he did not see on what ground such a court could be instituted; and, as public bodies were not responsible for their acts, all the satisfaction which an individual could obtain, if overlooked, was a consciousness that he did not deserve such treatment for his honest exertions.
This was kind and friendly, and might have afforded consolation to a philosopher; but Arnold had never been imbued with those maxims of wisdom which teach humility, nor learned the useful art of self-control to such an extent as to resist the impulse of a craving ambition, or endure the corrodings of wounded pride. He was well aware, also, that the ostensible motives of the majority of Congress were not the real ones; and this fact pressed upon him the unwelcome conviction, that his enemies were more numerous and active than he had ever imagined. Looking for the support of his reputation to the splendor of his military fame, and the prevailing power of popular applause over the opinions of all ranks of society, he had never prepared himself for such an expression of public sentiment, and his chagrin was in proportion to his disappointment.
At length he resolved to visit head-quarters, and obtain permission to proceed in person to Philadelphia, and demand of Congress an investigation into his conduct. On his journey from Providence, he happened to be in Connecticut at the time when the British expedition, consisting of two thousand troops, under Governor Tryon, landed at Compo, near Fairfield, penetrated the country, and burnt the town of Danbury, with the public stores at that place. Generals Silliman and Wooster had succeeded in collecting suddenly about six hundred men, of whom one hundred were Continental troops, and the others militia, and pushed forward in pursuit of the enemy. Arnold joined them at a short distance from Reading, and they all marched to Bethel, about four miles from Danbury, where they arrived in the middle of the night, and learned that the town was destroyed, and the British preparing to retire. They halted at Bethel to refresh the troops till morning, and then separated their party into two divisions. At daylight two hundred men under General Wooster marched to harass the enemy in their rear. Arnold and Silliman headed the other division, amounting to four hundred, and took a different route, with the design of intercepting their retreat. It was at first uncertain whether Governor Tryon would go to the North River, and embark in the vessels then lying near Tarrytown, or return to the ships, which he had left in the Sound. All doubts were soon removed, however, by intelligence of his being in full march towards Compo.
General Wooster overtook the enemy's rear guard, and commenced a spirited attack. It was repelled by discharges of artillery and musketry, which seemed at first to stagger his men, unaccustomed to scenes of battle. He had placed himself in their front, to encourage them forward, and had just called out, "Come on, my boys; never mind such random shot," when he received a wound in his side, which proved mortal. He fell from his horse, and was carried back to Danbury where he died.
By eleven o'clock in the morning, Arnold's division had reached Ridgefield, having been augmented on the way to about five hundred men. He took a position at the northern extremity of the village, and erected a barricade of carts, logs, and earth across the road by which the British were to pass. The post was well chosen, the road was narrow, his right flank was covered by a house and barn, and his left by a ledge of rocks. At three o'clock the enemy appeared, marching in a solid column, and they commenced a heavy fire as they advanced towards the breast-work. It was briskly returned. For nearly a quarter of an hour the action was warm, and the Americans maintained their ground by the aid of their barricade against four times their number, until the British column began to extend itself, and to stretch around their flanks. This was a signal for a retreat. Arnold was the last man that remained behind. While alone in this situation, a platoon of British troops, who had clambered up the rocks on the left flank, discharged their muskets at him. His horse dropped lifeless, and when it was perceived that the rider did not fall, one of the soldiers rushed forward with a fixed bayonet intending to run him through. Arnold sat unmoved on his struggling horse, watched the soldier's approach till he was near enough to make sure his aim, then drew a pistol from the holsters and shot him dead. Seizing this critical opportunity, he sprang upon his feet and escaped unharmed. So remarkable an exhibition of cool and steady courage, in a moment of extreme danger, has rarely been witnessed.
He rallied his men, and continued to annoy the enemy in their progress. Being reinforced the next day, he hung upon their flanks and rear throughout the whole march to their ships, attacking them at every assailable point. In a skirmish near Compo, just before the British embarked, the horse which he rode was shot through the neck, and on all occasions he exposed himself with his accustomed intrepidity.