Abducting Arnold, a Fictional “New Look” at an American Traitor

By Becky Akers for VT

He’s one of history’s most notorious traitors though his attempt at treason failed. As a military hero prior to his treachery, he won astounding victories, yet his country hates him for what he tried to do rather than loving him for what he actually did. And while few folks consider this fearsome warrior a Romeo, he wooed a bride his contemporaries despised—a touching tale for Valentine’s Day.

Perhaps it’s time to take a fresh look at Benedict Arnold, Major General in the Continental Army, latterly of His Majesty’s Land Forces in North America. I did: when I began research for my novel about him, I detested him as an irredeemable wretch. But within a few months, the evidence had reversed my opinion. It may change yours, too.

When the American Revolution began in 1775, Benedict Arnold was 34 years old, the proud father of three sons, and a wealthy merchant in New Haven, Connecticut. He was also an officer in the town’s militia, like hundreds of other men across the colonies. Unlike them, however, an immense talent for all things martial graced Arnold.

Those abilities propelled him into action almost before the gun-smoke had cleared from the Revolution’s first skirmishes in Massachusetts. Over the next 30 months, the shopkeeper-turned-soldier would lead four major actions against the British Army. One of them ended disastrously: an impossible, wintry trek through Maine’s wilderness for Quebec to enlist that northern neighbor in the lower colonies’ uprising.

But the United States probably would not exist without Arnold’s expertise in the other three, especially the final one. The battle at Saratoga, New York in October 1777 generally ranks in every list of the world’s most influential. Arnold led troops comprised largely of militia against rigorously trained British Redcoats—and won! This feat convinced France to side openly with America, guaranteeing the allies ultimate triumph. Without victory at Saratoga, the colonies would likely have remained part of the British empire; without Arnold’s inspired command, Americans might have lost at Saratoga.

Yet eighteen months after his signal success there, Arnold was conspiring with the enemy he had fought so fiercely. Why?

Historians usually cite two reasons: Arnold’s monstrous greed, which drove him to try selling West Point (not yet a military academy but rather a fort and indispensable) to the Redcoats, and his outsized vanity. When Congress, composed then as now of fools and cretins, abused Arnold as they did virtually all the Continental Army’s generals, Arnold supposedly decided to defect.

Yet the facts deny both these explanations.

Arnold was a generous man all his life, given to such munificence as financing his troops out of his own pocket and supporting the four orphans of Dr. Joseph Warren, an American icon slaughtered at Bunker Hill. Furthermore, Arnold not only lost money—and lots of it—when he changed sides, he knew he would.

Nor was Arnold pricklier than other officers. Congressional mistreatment often forced them to resign, as Arnold did, or to wrangle for months over promotions or seniority. Arnold was neither unusual nor irrational to demand the rank he had earned.

So if our hero didn’t turn his coat because of money or ego, why did he?

For the answer, let’s ride with Arnold to Philadelphia in June of 1778. We’re in a carriage, rather than on horseback, because Saratoga’s victory cost the general a leg: its severe wound will cripple him for the rest of his life. At this point, he’s still healing.

And though a general barely ambulatory can’t possibly cope with a command’s physical strains, he’s nonetheless requested another assignment from Gen. George Washington. His Excellency has instead appointed him military governor of Philadelphia.

The City of Brotherly Love was once again in American hands after nine months of occupation by the British Army—and it was much the worse for wear. His Majesty’s officers had quartered their troops in public buildings while appropriating private homes themselves. Many Patriots had fled Philadelphia when the Redcoats invaded; officers made themselves comfortable at the absentees’ expense. They chopped holes in the rebels’ floors, creating convenient privies that drained into cellars, and burned whatever wood was at hand, whether orchards, fences, or furniture.

Now, with the vandals evacuating, Philadelphians returned to rage over their ruined property. Waiting to exploit their fury was a political party known as the Radical Patriots.

Though history has forgotten the Radical Patriots, they were as powerful then as Democrats or Republicans are today. But they differed radically (hence, the name) from other Patriots. While Washington, Arnold, Sam Adams, Patrick Henry, and their fellows yearned to live free of politicians with their taxes and decrees, the Radicals craved a government stronger than King George III’s—with themselves at its head.

The Radicals already controlled Philadelphia when Military Governor Arnold arrived. The two clashed from the start. Washington had charged Arnold with protecting the rights of all Philadelphians, not just Patriots. But the Radicals insisted on punishing “collaborators” from the British occupation by confiscating their estates for themselves. They also regulated prices, driving commerce from the city and starving Philadelphians already hungry after a hard winter.

Arnold attacked the Radicals with wit and vehemence, as he had the Redcoats. Then, as if the Radicals didn’t hate him enough, the widowed governor fell in love with Peggy Shippen.

Peggy was the most beautiful woman in England or America, according to one of the British officers with whom she had flirted during the occupation. She was also the daughter of a former royal official and therefore doubly suspect in Radical eyes.

Arnold continued defending Peggy specifically and Philadelphians in general from the Radicals. But by now, these politicians ruled all of Pennsylvania. They had even infested the Continental Congress, as Arnold discovered when he asked for help against them: Congress instead investigated him, not the politicians pulling off a coup inside the Revolution.

At last, disillusioned that his sacrifices for freedom would only replace Britain’s milder—and distant—tyranny with local dictators, exhausted from battling the Radicals, and convinced that their dominance in Congress doomed Americans to servitude, Arnold contacted the British. He would join them to defeat the Radicals.

Arnold’s story of idealism and conflict, battle and betrayal, is the stuff of high drama. But as he negotiates with the Redcoats over turning his coat, the suspense surpasses the best spy fiction—one reason I turned it into exactly that. You’ll thrill to coded letters and Radical intrigue, Arnold’s last-minute escape to British lines while a half-naked Peggy distracts his pursuers, and Washington’s cloak-and-dagger scheme to kidnap his former friend for trial and execution, in my historical novel, Abducting Arnold. I’m pleased to offer the Kindle version to readers of VT at half-price in honor of Valentine’s Day. Buy a copy for your sweetie: it’s far more entertaining (and cheaper) than roses or chocolates!

Becky Akers has written two novels of the American Revolution, Abducting Arnold and Halestorm. E-copies of both are half-price for readers of VT.

Visit the books website here