Treacherous Beauty

by Stephen Case

  That June she brought seventeen-year-old Sophia and eight-year-old William with her to Chambers Farm in Epping, northeast of London, as guests of an old friend, Mrs. Shedden. “Being at a large farmhouse,” Peggy wrote, “I have the advantage of a milk diet in the greatest perfection. . . . There are few places I can be so much at my ease as here, where I was brought in a coach, so fitted out as to enable me to perform the whole journey laying down.”622

  Peggy’s collection of exiled Loyalist friends took turns watching out for her and offering comfortable places to stay. Chief among them were the Fitches, of course, as well as Sarah Coxe and her husband Daniel, who had been a member of the New Jersey governor’s council before the revolution, and who wrote the letter to Peggy’s father telling him that she was dying. Peggy wasn’t rich and beautiful anymore, and she was no longer the life of the party. But her friends’ loyalty in her final days went far beyond politeness, reflecting their deep and lasting love.

  By November, Peggy’s health had further deteriorated. “I have lately been much worse, in consequence of a very large tumor having formed which broke and discharged an immense quantity,” she wrote her father.623 A few months later she told her sister, “For nine days I lay with every appearance of a corpse.”624 She rallied slightly, but by May 1804 she was relying on opium to quell the pain and bring on sleep. She expressed “little hope of long continuing an inhabitant of this world.”625 In fact, she lasted long enough to send her son George off to India in early July, and to write a letter to her father that same month with a discussion of whether King George was more threatened by France’s Napoleon Bonaparte or by his own domestic enemies.

  But a letter to her son Edward the previous year served as a more lyrical coda. “Misfortunes and other circumstances have made me lay castle-building quite aside, but I sometimes flatter myself that we may yet see happier days,” she wrote. “Mine has been an eventful life, and I may yet ascend nearer the top of the wheel.”626

  Peggy Shippen Arnold died in her Bryanston Street home at age forty-four on August 24, 1804. She was interred at Battersea, next to her husband. In her will she stipulated: “It is my wish that my funeral may be as plain as is consistent with the situation of my family, avoiding all superfluous expense, and that my just debts may be paid.”627

  Indeed, Peggy believed in paying her debts, even if she never answered for her perceived sins against the American Revolution, which would remain unconfirmed for more than a century. But a bit of evidence was available among Peggy’s personal things. Soon after her death, her loved ones found the lock of hair that John André had given her in Philadelphia more than a quarter century earlier, when Peggy’s life had been parties and poetry and balls.628 Peggy had treasured André’s keepsake all that time. By keeping his memory alive, she had paid her final debt.

  Epilogue

  The story of Peggy Shippen inspires a number of what-ifs. What if Peggy had been exposed as a traitor on September 25, 1780? What if every fact about her participation in the plot had been known immediately after her husband fled to the enemy?

  Well, for one thing, she would be more famous today. She might be considered one of the most famous characters of the American Revolution. She might be the subject of scores of biographies, instead of this single book written more than two centuries after her death.

  Would she have gone on trial? Probably. She would have benefited from her social standing and the fact that, within her family and its sphere of influence, she would have had access to many of the finest legal minds in America. She also would have benefited from the fact that she was a woman. Even if all the facts had been known, many of the men sitting in judgment of her would have assumed that she acted at her husband’s direction, rather than accepting a scenario that now seems equally plausible—that the plot was her idea in the first place.

  Other people who were found guilty of spying or treason, such as John André and the two Quakers in Philadelphia, were hanged. But it seems extremely unlikely that Peggy would have met such a fate. Women were executed rarely in that era, especially white women.629 The US government did not hang a woman until Mary Surratt suffered that punishment for the conspiracy to assassinate President Abraham Lincoln in 1865.630

  Revolutionary justice differed dramatically for men and women, and sometimes the difference was set out in statute. In New Jersey, for example, treasonous men faced death but could be pardoned if they joined the Continental Navy. Female traitors did not have the naval option, of course. For a first offense, they faced a fine of up to three hundred pounds and a year in prison. Only for a second offense could they receive capital punishment.631

  Peggy likely would have been imprisoned or exiled. The most prominent American to be labeled a traitor before Benedict Arnold was Dr. Benjamin Church, an independence activist in Massachusetts who was arrested for “criminal correspondence” with the enemy. He was imprisoned for two years before being allowed to board a ship for the British-held Caribbean. That ship was lost at sea.632

  The Arnold treason was considered far worse than Church’s, but Peggy would have been held less responsible for it because she was a woman. To be sure, female Loyalist spies faced punishment, but it was hardly by the book. When a New York woman, Lorenda Holmes, was caught spying, she was stripped naked and displayed before a mob, but then freed with a warning. When she continued her espionage and was caught a second time, a soldier forced her to take off her shoe and place her right foot onto hot coals.633

  Peggy probably would have avoided such humiliations, since she was a family friend of General Washington. But one factor working against Peggy’s exile would have been the idea that she would reunite with her husband. If leading Patriots had known Peggy was guilty, they hardly would have sought to restore her happiness by returning her to Arnold. Thus Peggy might have stayed in custody a long time.

  While we’re playing what-if, we might also ask what would have happened if Peggy had succeeded. Certainly a British capture of West Point might have made all the difference. As Arnold put it quite cleverly after his defection: “The supplies of meat for Washington’s army are on the east side of the river, and the supplies of bread on the west; were the Highlands in our possession, Washington would be obliged to fight or disband his army for want of provisions.”634 If Peggy had helped deliver the Hudson Highlands, she might be considered the heroine who saved the colonies for the king. She and Arnold might even be honored in Westminster Abbey, alongside André. Or perhaps Arnold and André would have taken all the credit, and she would have ended up no more famous than she is now.

  Of course, Peggy didn’t succeed in her plot. Nor was she captured and tried. Instead she retreated to the margins of history.

  So what is the proper way to remember her?

  She was quintessentially American in her bravery and her improvisation. She was dogged in her efforts to preserve her family, and to build on the gains made by her ancestors.

  In many ways, Peggy was a real-life Scarlett O’Hara, a woman forced by desperate circumstances to take extreme measures, a woman fighting to preserve some element of a glorious past against the ravages of an unforgiving, transformative war. She was a woman who believed that the ends justified the means, and she thought she had found the means.

  Peggy’s story tells us much about America’s Loyalists—that they were not cartoonishly vile quislings attempting to imprison their countrymen for their own comfort. Her story also tells us about the role of women in that era—how few options they had, and how almost every bold step they took to influence events was taken outside the bounds of society’s norms.

  But most of all Peggy’s story tells us about ourselves—how we can scheme and maneuver and fail spectacularly, and then find a way to survive, and even endure.

  Acknowledgments

  This book would have been impossible without the expertise and ceaseless efforts of our team of four historical researchers,
whose understanding of archives and broad knowledge of eighteenth-century life were awe-inspiring. We thank them for their patience, energy, and resourcefulness. The four are Andrea Meyer (M.A., New York University and Long Island University), Stephanie Schmeling and Julianna Monjeau (both M.A., NYU), and Marie Elizabeth Stango, a doctoral candidate at the University of Michigan.

  Gratitude is too modest a word to express our regard for Hugh Arnold, a descendant of Benedict Arnold and Peggy Shippen who shared a rarely seen set of Peggy’s letters.

  Gary Heidt, our literary agent, brought us together for this project. Holly Rubino, our editor at Lyons Press, orchestrated the effort, with expert support from Ellen Urban and Ann H. Marlowe. Paul Iwanaga tracked down the historical illustrations, and Rick Tuma created the maps.

  Columbia University nurtured this project. James Neal, Michael T. Ryan, and Eric T. Wakin from the Libraries were unfailingly accommodating, and helped us assemble our research team. David Schizer and Kent McKeever from the Law School facilitated our work, as did Anke L. Nolting and Laura L. Tewksbury of the College of Physicians and Surgeons.

  Maya Jasanoff of the Harvard University history faculty was generous beyond any scholarly duty in sharing her research discoveries, and Emilie Hardman of Harvard’s Houghton Library helped us review Arnold documents in that collection.

  Author Thomas Fleming kindly volunteered information about the Arnold family in England, and assisted us in reaching out to other experts.

  Heather Meek, an assistant professor of English at the University of Regina in Saskatchewan, Canada, shared her understanding of a fascinating area of study, eighteenth-century female “hysteria.”

  Jean W. Ashton, Edward “Ted” O’Reilly, and Tammy Kiter, always smiling, brought us boxes and boxes of interesting documents and microfilms over many visits to the New-York Historical Society. After we requested Burd-Shippen Papers at the University of Pittsburgh Libraries, a number of them were digitized and placed on the Internet under the supervision of Wendy M. Pflug and Laura Brooks.

  Librarians were heroic. We thank Lynn Favreau, the extremely knowledgeable reference librarian at the Scotch Plains (New Jersey) Public Library, plus the staffs of the Skokie (Illinois) Public Library and Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. We also are grateful to the staff of the William L. Clements Library at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, especially J. Kevin Graffagnino, Barbara DeWolfe, and Janet Bloom.

  Kathy Ludwig at the David Library of the American Revolution in Washington Crossing, Pennsylvania, uncovered at least a half dozen additional sources for this project. Professor James Gigantino, a visiting fellow at the David Library, helped us check on Peggy Shippen’s royal pension.

  The Historical Society of Pennsylvania was a vital resource. Among those who guided us through this organization’s extensive collection of Shippen Papers and provided other support were Chris Damiani, Dr. Tamara Gaskell, Steven Smith, Sarah Heim, Ron Medford, Keith Lyons, Dr. Daniel Rolph, David Haugaard, and Lee Arnold.

  At the American Revolution Center in Philadelphia, Bruce Cole and R. Scott Stephenson offered always welcome encouragement and assistance.

  Rhonda R. McClure and Steven Solomon and their staff at the New England Historic Genealogical Society identified as many living Arnold-Shippen descendants as world privacy laws permitted. At Davis Polk & Wardwell (London), Paul Kumleben and Jill Sterner skillfully hunted down contact data for those descendants.

  The collections of the New Haven Museum include interesting Arnold-related documents, which were sent to us by the redoubtable James Campbell.

  Miss Allison Derrett of the Royal Archives, Windsor Castle, invested her time to find interesting information. Elspeth Flood and Rick Stirling assisted us in understanding which Sir Walter Stirling presented Arnold to the king.

  Patricia Cokines of Cortes and Hay, Inc. guided us efficiently through a 1776 real estate title search in Hunterdon County, New Jersey. Richard Stothoff of the Hunterdon County Historical Society in Flemington, New Jersey, helped us access resources there.

  The authors pay tribute to the New York American Revolution Round Table, and especially chairman David Jacobs, for the help provided to our colleague Andrea Meyer. It should also be noted that Andrea’s knowledge of the Arnold treason was greatly enhanced by her mentor, the late John A. Burke.

  Others who chipped in: Amber McAlpine of the New Brunswick Museum; Tal Nadan, Thomas Lannon, and Richard Foster of the New York Public Library; Richard Sieber of the Philadelphia Museum of Art; Elizabeth Bennett and Gabriel Swift of the Princeton University Libraries; Patrick Raftery of the Westchester County (New York) Historical Society; Jean Solinsky of the Winterthur Museum, Garden and Library; Karen Kukil of the Neilson Library at Smith College; and Simone Munson of the Wisconsin Historical Society.

  Stephen’s wife, Margaret Ayres, contributed more to his efforts on this book than anyone else, offering years of unfailing good cheer, patience, encouragement, and extremely careful, thoughtful reading of multiple manuscripts. Margaret: thanks and brava!

  Other people in Stephen’s family have patiently listened to him talk about “the Peggy project” and have read his writings since he first learned of her story several years ago from reading the masterful four-volume biography of George Washington by James Thomas Flexner. These indulgent relatives are Daniel and Elizabeth Case, Alice Ayres, Richard Case, Megan Weiss, Richard Ayres, Francesca Ciliberti, Anne Dawson, Peg Bachmann, and Michael and Pamela Miles.

  Friends of Stephen’s who provided writing and research advice include Ros Avrett, Jason Berger, Richard and Paula Broude, Cindy Carlson, the Honorable Thomas Carlson, Edward C. Cerny III, Sarah Parr Cerny, Michael Cook, Ronald DeKoven, Peggy Duckett, Peter East, Nathaniel Edmonds, Dr. Kenneth Forde, Jason and Janet Kranes Fensterstock, Bertram and Diana Firestone, John Gose, L. Gordon Harriss, Bo Kirschen, Laurel Kirschen, Roger Kirschen, Kimberley Cooper Kissoyan, Margaret Kratochvil, William and Evelyn Kroener, Angus and Joanne MacBeth, Jock and Jean McClellan, Joseph Pardo, David Reading, Michael Rothwell, Claire Ruppert, James Shepard, Lori Shinseki, Robert and Roseanne Sticht, Allison Stockman, Charles S. Whitman III, Dr. Clyde Wu, and Roger Zissu.

  Stephen’s colleagues at Emerald Development Managers LP—Neil Cohen, Charles Collins, James Wells, Thomas Gallo, and Barbara Borer—cheerfully encouraged his efforts and, more times than he can count, covered for him while he used work hours to get things done on this book.

  Mark thanks his wife, Lisa, for her wisdom and support. Also deserving of gratitude are his parents, John and Jane Jacob; his siblings, Tim, Kathleen, Paul, Matt, and Anne; his daughters Maury and Katy; his mother-in-law, Jacquelyn Hall; and his son-in-law, Greg. Mark also notes the unfailing friendship and advice of Richard and Cate Cahan, Tom and Lucy Keating, Richard and Esther Triffler, Michael Williams, Ken Kozak, Lawrence Downes, Bill Hearst, Kelly Nicholas, Alexia Trzyna, Guy Ransom, Jim Hathaway, Gael Sammartino, Gerald Koonce, and Myrna Thomas. Mark’s Chicago Tribune colleagues provided a fine support system, especially Robin Daughtridge, John Kass, Mary Schmich, Gerry Kern, Jane Hirt, Peter Kendall, Phil Jurik, Kerry Luft, and Stephan Benzkofer.

  And finally, thanks to composer Julian Livingston for his 1976 opera Twist of Treason, an artistic reminder of the power of Peggy’s story.

  Chapter Notes

  Chapter 1

  1 Judge Edward Shippen to Edward Shippen of Lancaster, June 11, 1760, Shippen Papers, Historical Society of Pennsylvania. For clarity, citations for these two Edward Shippens call one a judge and the other “of Lancaster” even in letters before the one became a judge and the other was in Lancaster.

  2 Klein, Portrait of an Early American Family, 22, 70; Randall, Benedict Arnold, 384–385.

  3 Randall, 389; Lomask, “Benedict Arnold: The Aftermath of Treason,” 84.

  4 R. Harvey, “A Few Bloody Noses,” 14; Weir, Fatal Victories, 133.

  5 Flexner,
The Traitor and the Spy, 189; Scharf and Westcott, History of Philadelphia, 1609–1884, 2:870; Randall, 390.

  6 Judge Edward Shippen to Joseph Shippen, Nov. 17, 1790, in Lewis, “Edward Shippen, Chief-Justice of Pennsylvania,” 31. The definition of “eye servant” is from Noah Webster’s 1828 dictionary, at www.1828-dictionary.com/d/word/eye-servant.

  7 Christ Church of Philadelphia, www.christchurchphila.org.

  8 Lippincott, Early Philadelphia, 69.

  9 Watson, Annals of Philadelphia, 1:370.

  10 R. Harvey, 24.

  11 Sargent, Life and Career of Major John André, 132–134.

  12 Lippincott, 88–89.

  13 Jefferson, in Illick, Colonial Pennsylvania, xvii.

  14 Washington, Writings, ed. Ford, 2:438; Randall, 74, 420.

  15 Isaacson, Benjamin Franklin, 194–200; Worner, “A Benjamin Franklin Letter,” 103; Bruce, Benjamin Franklin, Self-Revealed, 1:129. Peggy’s maternal grandfather, Tench Francis, was Franklin’s cowriter of the constitution for the academy that was a forerunner of the University of Pennsylvania.

  16 Danson, Drawing the Line, 82.