therefore safe, the British had the command of the Hudson, and
ships-of-war could ascend the river unmolested as far as West Point,
which was still held by the Americans and was impregnable. Outside of
New York the British did not possess a strong fortress in the country,
at least in the interior, except on Lake Champlain,--not one in New
England. West Point, therefore, was a great eyesore to the English
generals and admirals. Its possession would be of incalculable advantage
in case any expedition was sent to the North.

And the enemy came very near getting possession of this important
fortress, not by force, but by treachery. Benedict Arnold, disappointed
in his military prospects, alienated from his cause, overwhelmed with
debts, and utterly discontented and demoralized, had asked to be ordered
from Philadelphia and put in command of West Point. He was sent there in
August, 1780. He was a capable and brave man; he had the confidence of
Washington, in spite of his defects of character, and moreover he had
rendered important services. In an evil hour he lost his head and
listened to the voice of the tempter, and having succeeded in getting
himself put in charge of the stronghold of the Hudson, he secretly
negotiated with Clinton for its surrender.

Everybody is familiar with the details of that infamy, which is
inexplicable on any other ground than partial insanity. No matter what
may be said in extenuation, Arnold committed the greatest crime known to
civilized nations. He contrived to escape the just doom which awaited
him, and, from having become traitor, even proceeded to enter the active
service of the enemy and to raise his hand against the country which,
but for these crimes, would have held him in honorable remembrance. The
heart of English-speaking nations has ever been moved to compassion for
the unfortunate fate of the messenger who conducted the treasonable