The complicated case of Benedict Arnold
He was a Son of Liberty. Citizens called him “America’s Hannibal” for his march on Quebec. He plowed a personal fortune into training Revolutionary troops. His men revered him. America rode to victory on his military genius.
So why did Benedict Arnold betray his country?
Ancestor to at least four U.S. presidents, Arnold entered the world with a silver spoon … until fate stole it back. Born in Norwich on January 14, 1741, Benedict Arnold V had five brothers and sisters and a step sister. One by one, all but his sister Hannah died in childhood; and then, when he was 18, his mother died. Arrests for public drunkenness, lost communion privileges at church, bankruptcy – these hallmarks of his father’s alcoholism dropped the responsibility for breadwinning into young Benedict’s lap. Though he took up the challenge ably, shame dogged him all his life.
Arnold appears never to have overcome the early trauma, and a clue lies in his reclamation of the family homestead in Norwich at age 22. In four years, Arnold lost his mother, took an apothecary apprenticeship in New Haven with her family, the Lathrops, went into the mercantile trade, and built a budding fortune with which he re-established the family honor.
He emerged from all of this with a prickly personality. Benedict Arnold V, the military virtuoso, was as disliked by his peers as he was beloved by his soldiers. Almost from the beginning, colonial army brass stepped forward to steal credit for his victories: Ethan Allen claimed Quebec. While Arnold lay abed with life-threatening wounds from Saratoga, his wife Margaret died – and Horatio Gates owned the victory there. Then, having sunk his cash into the war effort, Arnold’s thank you was a court martial for arbitrary conduct. He stewed over the dishonesty of his grandstanding colleagues. He wondered if the bankrupt Continental Congress possessed the integrity and know-how to govern even if America won: On the way to Quebec, some of his troops ate their own pets to stave off starvation because Congress refused to send supplies. Arnold raged: He understood the country was cash-poor, but not sending food to soldiers in a land of plenty?
Among Washington’s staff, Arnold felt alone in embodying equality’s ideals. The Revolutionary Army was reflective of its British roots. Many newly commissioned officers had prior allegiance to King George III and the privilege British upper crust presumes. Washington himself aspired to be a general in the British Army, but colonial birth precluded it. The commander-in-chief’s blue-blooded aloofness left Arnold anxious and wondering where he stood. Though Washington intervened to clear his most talented general of serious court martial charges, the Commander-in-chief – far defter a politician than general – did so quietly. Arnold felt used. Unlike today, he couldn’t just phone Washington and ask, Did you get my plans? Washington was using Arnold’s battle plans but never bothered to tell him.
Colonial politics tend to be misunderstood: As the Revolution ebbed and flowed, opinions and self-interests followed. One of Benjamin Franklin’s sons was a Tory; another, a Patriot. People switched sides, sometimes more than once. Much is written about Arnold’s second wife, Peggy Shippen, and Peggy usually is blamed for Arnold’s behavior. Yet, Peggy’s family and her own ambivalence about America and England mirror those of the day.
Founders of Shippensburg, Pennsylvania, Peggy’s family imbued Pennsylvania politics. Her brother William helped found the University of Pennsylvania. (Peggy’s father Edward helped found Princeton.) The Shippens seemed to lean toward the Tories at times, at least Peggy did. Nevertheless, their association with Washington remained cordial, even during the war, and it appears Washington made calculated decisions around Peggy amid Arnold’s treason. (Washington’s adopted son Custis ultimately married a Shippen relative.)
During the war, Peggy and Benedict corresponded with British officers General Henry Clinton and Major John Andre. Gossip of the day reveals British generals teased Arnold about when he would jump to their side. Peggy’s letters to Andre reflect soap opera intrigue as she heaps affection upon the popular British officer. These raise an eyebrow regarding her allegiance to Arnold, by now a bad-tempered older man who walked with a limp. By May of 1779, she was sending Andre letters about troop movements while Arnold’s own letters to British military friends are so free with information he would be censured today.
In July 1779, British agents received a shopping list from Peggy requesting “18 yards of pale pink mantua fabric, 1 broad pale pink ribbon and 6 yards of black ribbon” among other items.
With Peggy, Arnold was out of his league. Having sunk so much into the Revolution, near the end, he was having trouble affording her. From here, perhaps the leap to selling West Point for the equivalent of $600,000 and the title of Provincial Brigadier General was shorter than it might have been in younger days. Absent Washington’s assurances, Arnold wondered: If we don’t win, will we become a French, rather than British, colony? Arnold fretted that being a vassal of England was the better lot.
And, there is Peggy. Shortly after their marriage, Arnold deeded a choice property, Mount Pleasant in Philadelphia, to Peggy. Often, Peggy derided the Patriot Army. She told Mrs. Theodosia Provost, a British officer’s widow who later became Mrs. Aaron Burr, that she was fed up with the American cause and “through great persuasion and unceasing perseverance ultimately brought the General [Arnold] into arrangement to surrender West Point to the British.”
Perhaps she simply wore him down. Heroes aren’t perfect. Could a scar on our national psyche have been avoided? The historical drama of America’s betrayal reads like a case study in bad behavior.
There are lessons: As leaders, we need to communicate rather than leave people guessing. We must validate; reassure the insecure. Manage the egos. The bullying that Arnold endured – he had gone to the wrong schools, had the wrong accent, lacked the pedigree – left him susceptible to Peggy’s persuasion.
If Washington had been a better communicator, if his generals had practiced the equality they preached, if Arnold had not felt he owned the army because of his contributions, if he had dealt with the chip on his shoulder constructively – the outcome could have been different.
It’s tempting to blame the spritely, spoiled and ambitious Peggy, to blame Arnold’s childhood. These were factors. But the saddest moment for Arnold wasn’t the moment he handed the West Point letter to Andre, who placed it in his boot. Arnold’s tragedy lies in the moment America offered to exchange Andre for Arnold. British authorities allowed it was a more than favorable exchange and voiced regrets that they could not. Instead, they ruefully kept their word to Arnold, a man who had failed to keep his own. The esteemed Andre was put to death, a casualty of war.
Arnold had convinced himself that his own fortunes and those of his country were enjoined. He wanted to believe it. Peggy’s family had played to win either way. Arnold lacked the social and political sophistication to strike the same deal.
“I count him braver who overcomes his desires,” says Aristotle, “than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self.”
Photo by Marion Doss 
