t, or the English force at New York was
reduced.
In these debates and delays, mingled with an appeal to De Guichen in
the West Indies, the summer was fast wearing away, and, by way of
addition, early in September came tidings of the battle of Camden,
and the utter rout of Gates's army. Despite his own needs and trials,
Washington's first idea was to stem the current of disaster at the
south, and he ordered the fresh Maryland troops to turn back at once
and march to the Carolinas, but Gates fled so fast and far that it
was some time before anything was heard of him. As more news came of
Camden and its beaten general, Washington wrote to Rutledge that he
should ultimately come southward. Meantime, he could only struggle
with his own difficulties, and rack his brains for men and means to
rescue the south. It must have seemed to Washington, in those lovely
September days, as if fate could not have any worse trials in store,
and that if he could only breast the troubles now surging about him,
he might count on sure and speedy success. Yet the bitterest trial of
all was even then hanging over his head, and with a sort of savage
sarcasm it came upon him in one of those rare moments when he had an
hour of rest and sunshine.
The story of Arnold's treason is easily told. Its romantic side
has made it familiar to all Americans, and given it a factitious
importance. Had it succeeded it would have opened opportunities of
disaster to the American arms, although it would not have affected
the final outcome of the Revolution. As it was it failed, and had no
result whatever. It has passed into history simply as a picturesque
episode, charged with possibilities which attract the imagination, but
having, in itself, neither meaning nor consequences beyond the two
conspirators. To us it is of interest, because it shows Washington in
one of the sharpest and bitterest experiences of his life. Let us see
how he met it and dealt with it.
From the day when the French landed, both De Rochambeau and
Washington had been most anxious to meet. The French general had been
particularly urgent, but it was difficult for Washington to get away.
As he wrote on August 21: "We are about ten miles from the enemy. Our
popular government imposes a necessity of great circumspection. If
any misfortune should happen in my absence, it would be attended with
every inconvenience. I will, however, endeavor if possible, and as
soon as possible, to meet you at so
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