General Benedict Arnold V

For the last couple of days I've taken a detour into some family tree and Washington history research that I was working on back in 2012 (startling to realize that that's seven years ago). This particular side trip began five days ago I received the following email:

My name is xxxxxx and I am a student at Julia R. Masterman high school in Philadelphia, PA. My group and I are currently working on a research project for our AP United States history class. The assignment was to pick a random gravestone in the Woodlands Cemetery, a historical site in Philadelphia, and write a biography on his or her life. We chose Andrew Longacre (1831-1904) as our subject and are now conducting research on his life and genealogy. We recently stumbled across your blog detailing the lineage of Andreas Peterson Longacre and were wondering if you had any specific sources or advice to help our preliminary research.

I am delighted to see young people taking an interest in history and genealogy.

Here is part of my reply:

Thank you for your inquiry regarding the descendants of Andreas Peterson Longacre, my 7th great-grandfather.  It has been several years since I last reviewed that part of my family tree. The Andrew Longacre you are researching (there are several of that name}, is probably one of his descendants in a collateral line, which I have not followed. I am the son of Margaret Irene Seaton, daughter of Samuel Jones Seaton, son of Mary Ellen Longacre, daughter of John Jackson Longacre, son of Benjamin Longacre Jr., son of Benjamin Longacre Sr., son of Andrew Longacre (1716-1796, my 5th great-grandfather), son of Peter Longacre, son of Andreas Peterson Longacre. In the Genealogy.com report, your Andrew appears to be number 95: ANDREW LONGACRE, b. June 12, 1831, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; d. February 18, 1906. https://www.genealogy.com/ftm/m/c/c/Barbara-J-Mccormick/GENE7-0019.html#CHILD95  (You probably already have the link, but I've included it here for convenience). The discrepancy in date of death may be due to any of a number of causes. As you probably have already found, errors are quite common. I'm sure I will find the results of your work most interesting, and would love to see what you find.

The line they are researching is as follows: ANDREW LONGACRE, son of  JAMES BARTON LONGACRE, son of PETER LONGACRE, son of ISRAEL LONGACRE (1715-1784), son of PETER LONGACRE (1682-1739), son of ANDREAS PETERSON LONGACRE (1657-1718). The Peter born in 1682 is the nearest common ancestor.

General Benedict Arnold V

Since the location is Philadelphia, I went on a little excursion into another branch of my tree: the Lee family of Virginia, as it is related to the Shippen family of Philadelphia, and particularly to General Benedict Arnold.

General Benedict Arnold V is "husband of 1st cousin 1x removed of husband of sister-in-law of 1st cousin 7x removed." A bit of a stretched shirt-tail, but interesting nonetheless. The following is a transcript from one of the earliest newspapers published in Washington, There are no known existing copies of the first two issues, In the middle of the first page of the third issue is the following story, which I give both transcribed and as four snips (since the column is too long to take it in one at a descent resolution).:


Washington Statesman
Walla Walla, Washington Territory
Friday, December 13, 1861
N. Northrop, R. B. Smith, R. R. Rees, Editors and Proprietors

Talleyrand and Arnold

      Talleyrand arrived in Havre, hot from Paris.  It was the darkest hour of the French Revolution.  Pursued by the bloodhounds of the reign of terror, stripped of every vestige of property and power, Talleyrand secured a passage to America, in a ship about to sail.  He was a beggar and a wanderer even, in a strange land, he was forced to earn his daily bread by his daily labor.  "Is there an American staying in your house?" he asked of the landlord of the hotel.  "I am bound to cross the water, and would like a letter to a person of influence in the new world."
      The landlord hesitated a moment and then replied:  "There is a gentleman up stairs either from America or England, but whether an American or an Englishman I cannot tell."  He pointed the way, and Talleyrand, who in his life was a bishop, prince, and prime minister, ascended the stairs.  A miserable suppliant at the stranger's door, he knocked and entered.  In the far corner of the dimly lighted room sat a man of some fifty years, his arms folded and his head bowed on his breast.  From a window directly opposite a flood of light poured upon his forehead.  His eyes looked from beneath his downcast brows and gazed upon Talleyrand's face with a peculiar searching expression.  His face striking in outline; his mouth and chin indicative of an iron will.  His form vigorous, even with the snows of fifty winters — was clad in dark, but rich and distinguished costume.
      Talleyrand advanced, stated that he was a fugitive, and under the impression that the gentleman before him was an American, solicited his feeling offices.  He poured out his history in eloquent French and broken English.  "I am a wanderer, an exile.  I am forced to fly to the New World, without a friend or a home.  You are an American; give me, then, I beseech you, a letter of yours; that I may be able to earn my bread.  I am willing to toil in any manner.  The scenes of Paris have filled me with such horror that a life of labor would be a paradise to a career of luxury in France.  You will give me a letter to a friend?  A gentleman like you, has, doubtless, very many friends."

Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord

      The stranger arose, and with a look Talleyrand never forgot, retreated toward the door of the next chamber, his eyes looking still from beneath his darkened brow.  He spoke as he retreated backward, his voice full of meaning.  "I am the only man born in the New World who can raise his hand to God and say, I have not a friend, no, not one, in all America!"
      Talleyrand never forgot the overwhelming sadness of the glances which accompanied these words, "Who are you?" he cried, as the strange man retreated towards the next room.
      "My name," he replied, with a smile that had more mockery-joy in its convulsive expression, "my name is Benedict Arnold."
     He was gone.  Talleyrand sank back into a chair, gasping the words, "Arnold the traitor."

note: If true this would have been in March of 1794.