“Who is that haughty looking man yonder?” asked one spectator of his neighbor who happened to be better informed than his friend, “and what does he here?”
“What he does here I know not,” declared the individual thus addressed, “but his name I can tell you, having seen him in Hartford on several occasions. It is Benedict Arnold, a name quite well known–and not altogether honorably–in that part of Connecticut.”
CHAPTER XX
THE RIVAL COMMANDERS
At this time Benedict Arnold was thirty-five years of age, a restless, ambitious man who had sought frequently for an opportunity to distinguish himself in life, but who had never been willing to pay the world’s price for real success. He looked for a short-cut to power and fortune, and because of his impatience of restraint and the small chances of promotion, he had once deserted from the British army. When the Revolution broke out he was living in Hartford, Connecticut, where his business was that of druggist, and where his reputation was not of the most savory among the more respectable merchants of the town. His character, however, contained those elements of recklessness and personal daring which stand for bravery with many people, and he was something of a hero in the eyes of his thoughtless associates.
It seemed a peculiar fatality that both Arnold and Allen, coming from the same colony, should go to Bennington and be thrown together at just this time. It was a great moment in Ethan Allen’s life; the time was likewise pregnant with the elements which so influenced the after existence of Benedict Arnold. Ethan Allen’s mind was filled with a desire to help the Grants, and despite the military glory he craved, he entered into the scheme for the capture of Ticonderoga with a real hope of assisting the patriot cause. He was, indeed, a patriot from the bottom, ready to sacrifice his own interests as well as his life for the general good. Arnold saw in this rising of his fellow-Americans the long sought chance to distinguish himself and gain that power and influence which his nature craved. He saw in the proposed expedition to Ticonderoga a quick road to prominence. For him to see this chance was to grasp it.
Having no following of his own he planned to seize the troops gathered at Castleton and thus have his name go before the Continental Congress as the leader of the expedition. If it was successful the honor would be his; if it failed, his name would be quite as prominent and the affair might gain him advancement which he could hope for in no other way. He had no thought nor care for the men who, after weeks of toilsome effort, had gathered the little army together. Their feelings in the matter, or their standing with their followers, did not enter into his calculations.
That, indeed, was the secret of Benedict Arnold’s life. He never thought of others. He was ever for self. As a boy we read that he was cruel to those smaller and weaker than himself, being the “bully” of the school and of the town in which he lived. He was ever utterly reckless of his reputation and his greatest pleasure seemed to be found in some form of malicious mischief. Personally, however, he did not lack boldness and physical courage. It is told of him that, being dared by other boys, he once seized the arms of a waterwheel and followed its revolutions half a dozen times, being completely submerged in the millrace at every turn. The danger to a handful of illy-armed troops attacking a fortress like Ticonderoga appealed strongly to the man’s reckless daring.
Although Allen and Warner came from the same colony as the newcomer, neither knew nor recognized Arnold as he approached the group of officers at this important moment. But Arnold was not a man who could be for long ignored. His military bearing, his dress, and the hauteur of his countenance attracted the attention of the three leaders. “Sir,” said Allen, courteously, “you evidently have some communication to make to us?”
“I have, sir,” replied Arnold, calmly. “But not having the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with you—”