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 some convenient rendezvous.”  In accordance with this promise, a few weeks later, he left Greene in command of the army, and, not without misgivings, started on September 18 to meet De Rochambeau.  On his way he had an interview with Arnold, who came to him to show a letter from the loyalist Colonel Robinson, and thus disarm suspicion as to his doings.  On the 20th, the day when Andre and Arnold met to arrange the terms of the sale, Washington was with De Rochambeau at Hartford.  News had arrived, meantime, that De Guichen had sailed for Europe; the command of the sea was therefore lost, and the opportunity for action had gone by.  There was no need for further conference, and Washington accordingly set out on his return at once, two or three days earlier than he had intended.