of his regiments into action. Phillips hurried with four guns taken from
the reserve artillery to the front. Frazer turned part of his force upon
the American flank, thus relieving Burgoyne from the pressure laid upon
him, and enabling him to form a second line. When this was done, the
whole British force advanced again as far as their first position, while
the Americans, for want of fresh troops to meet them, were compelled to
fall back under cover of the woods again. The combat had now lasted four
hours. Darkness put an end to it, nearly on the spot where it had begun.
The British were indeed masters of the field; but instead of attacking,
they had always been attacked, and instead of advancing, they had been
everywhere stopped; their artillery alone had saved them from defeat.
Our army lost three hundred and nineteen killed and wounded; the
British, more than five hundred,--the difference being due to superior
marksmanship. Our losses could easily be made good; the British could
not. All the real advantages, therefore, were clearly on the side of the
Americans.
FOOTNOTES:
[45] BATTLE OF BEMIS' HEIGHTS. Bemis' Heights formed part of the
American position, but not of the battle-ground. Freeman's Farm would
have been a more accurate designation. Stillwater locates it anywhere
within a township of many miles in extent.
[46] ARNOLD'S PART in this battle has been long a matter of dispute.
Gates was jealous of him because he was the idol of his soldiers. Arnold
had no high opinion of Gates. After Arnold turned traitor, every one
seems to have thought it a duty to give him a kick. This feeling is
unfortunately conspicuous in the only detailed account from the American
side we have of this battle, which was written by Wilkinson, Gates's
adjutant-general, and given to the world nearly forty years (1816)
afterwards. Wilkinson seems to have fully shared his commander's likes
and dislikes, and has treated Arnold shabbily. The battle was almost
wholly fought by Arnold's division, and it is equally incompatible with
his duty and temper to suppose he would have remained in camp when his
troops were engaged, though he was probably held back until a late hour
in the day.
XIII.
LINCOLN'S RAID IN BURGOYNE'S REAR.
Much to Burgoyne's chagrin, he had been obliged to garrison Ticonderoga
with troops taken from his own army, instead of being allowed to draw
upon those left in Canada, under command of General Carleton. About a
thousand men were thus deducted from the force now operating on the
Hudson.
Ever since the battle of Bennington, Lincoln had been most industriously
gathering in, and organizing the militia, at Manchester. All New England
was now up, and her sons were flocking in such numbers to his camp, that
Lincoln soon found himself at the head of about two thousand excellent
militia.
Guided by the spirit of Washington's instructions, he now determined on
making an effort to break up Burgoyne's communications, capture his
magazines, harass his outposts, and, perhaps, even throw himself on the
British line of retreat. There is a refreshing boldness and vigor about
the conception, something akin to real generalship and enterprise. It
was a good plan, undertaken without Gates's knowledge or consent.
[Sidenote: Sept. 13.]
On the same day that Burgoyne was crossing the Hudson, Lincoln sent
five hundred men to the head of Lake George, with orders to destroy the
stores there; five hundred more to attack Ticonderoga; and another five
hundred to Skenesborough, to support them in case of need. Unknown to
Lincoln, Burgoyne had now wholly dropped his communications with the
lakes, but these movements were no less productive of good results on
that account.
The first detachment, under command of Colonel Brown,[47] reached Lake
George landing undiscovered. The blockhouse and mills there were
instantly taken. Mount Defiance and the French lines at Ticonderoga[48]
were next carried without difficulty. In these operations, Brown took
three hundred prisoners, released over one hundred Americans from
captivity, and destroyed a great quantity of stores.
The second detachment having, meantime, come up before Mount
Independence, Ticonderoga was cannonaded, for some time, without effect.
Unlike St. Clair, the British commander would neither surrender nor
retreat, even when the guns of Mount Defiance were turned against him.
Failing here, the Americans next went up Lake George, to attack
Burgoyne's artillery depot, at Diamond Island. They were not more
successful in this attempt, as the enemy was strongly fortified and made
a vigorous defence. After burning the enemy's boats on the lake, Brown
returned to Skenesborough.
General Lincoln was about to march from Skenesborough to Fort Edward,
with seven hundred men, when he received a pressing request from Gates,
dated on the morning of the battle, to join him at once.
Abandoning, therefore, his own plans, Lincoln retraced his steps with so
much speed, that he arrived in Gates's camp[49] on the twenty-second.
Gates immediately gave him command of the right wing[50] of the army.
The road between Skenesborough and Fort Edward was now constantly
patrolled by parties of American militia; so that it was truly said of
Burgoyne, that the gates of retreat were fast closing behind him.
FOOTNOTES:
[47] COLONEL JOHN BROWN, of Pittsfield, Mass.,--who had been with Allen
at the taking of Ticonderoga in 1775, and with Montgomery at
Quebec,--Colonels Warner, Woodbridge, and Johnson cooeperated in this
expedition.
[48] TICONDEROGA was garrisoned at this time by one British and one
German battalion, under command of General Powell.
[49] GATES'S CAMP. By this time, Gates also had connected his camp with
the east bank of the Hudson, by a floating bridge, to facilitate the
crossing of reenforcements to him.
[50] THE RIGHT WING was composed of Nixon's, Glover's, and Patterson's
Continental brigades, with a certain proportion of militia. The left
wing of Poor's and Learned's brigades, Dearborn's Light Infantry, and
Morgan's corps, with a like proportion of militia.
XIV.
SECOND BATTLE OF FREEMAN'S FARM.
(_October, 1777._)
Convinced that another such victory would be his ruin, Burgoyne now
thought only of defending himself until the wished-for help should come.
To this end, he began intrenching the ground on which he stood. The
action of September 19 had, therefore, changed the relative situation of
the antagonists, in that from being the assailant, Burgoyne was now
driven to act wholly on the defensive.
On the day following the battle, a courier brought Burgoyne the welcome
news that forces from New York would soon be on the way to his relief.
Word was instantly sent back that his army could hold its ground until
the 12th of October, by which time it was not doubted that the relieving
force would be near enough at hand to crush Gates between two fires.
[Sidenote: At Wilber's Basin.]
Burgoyne, therefore, now threw his bridge across the Hudson again,
posted a guard on the farther side, made his camp as strong as possible,
and waited with growing impatience for the sound of Sir Henry
Clinton's[51] cannon to be heard in the distance. But Clinton did not
move to Burgoyne's assistance until too late. The blundering of the War
[Sidenote: Oct. 4.]
Office had worked its inevitable results. By the time Clinton reached
Tarrytown, thirty miles above New York, Burgoyne's army had been put on
short rations. With the utmost economy the provisions could not be made
to last much beyond the day fixed in Burgoyne's despatch. Foraging was
out of the question. Nothing could be learned about Clinton's progress.
All between the two British armies was such perilous ground, that
several officers had returned unsuccessful, after making heroic efforts
to reach Clinton's camp.
While Burgoyne was thus anxiously looking forward to Clinton's energetic
cooeperation, that officer supposed he was only making a diversion in
Burgoyne's favor, a feint to call off the enemy's attention from him;
and thus it happened that in the decisive hour of the war, and after the
signal had been given, only one arm was raised to strike, because two
British commanders acted without unison; either through misconception of
the orders they had received, or of what was expected of them in just
such an emergency as the one that now presented itself.
Perhaps two armies have seldom remained so near together for so long a
time without coming to blows, as the two now facing each other on the
heights of Stillwater. The camps being little more than a mile apart,
brought the hostile pickets so close together, that men strayed into the
opposite lines unawares. Day and night there was incessant firing from
the outposts, every hour threatened to bring on a battle. Half
Burgoyne's soldiers were constantly under arms to repel the attack,
which--in view of the desperate condition they found themselves placed
in, of the steady progress from bad to worse--was rather hoped for than
feared.
Two weeks passed thus without news of Clinton. Burgoyne's provisions
were now getting alarmingly low. If he staid where he was, in a few
days, at most, he would be starved into surrendering. Again the ominous
word "retreat" was heard around the camp-fires. The hospital was filled
with wounded men. Hard duty and scant food were telling on those fit for
duty. Lincoln's raid announced a new and dangerous complication. It was
necessary to try something, for Gates's do-nothing policy was grinding
them to powder.
A council was therefore called. It is a maxim, as old as history, that
councils of war never fight. Some of Burgoyne's generals advised putting
the Hudson between themselves and Gates, as the only means now left of
saving the army; none, it is believed, advocated risking another battle.
Burgoyne could not bring himself to order a retreat without first making
one more effort for victory. He dwelt strongly upon the difficulty of
withdrawing the army in the face of so vigilant and powerful an enemy.
He maintained his own opinion that even in order to secure an honorable
retreat it would be necessary to fight, and it was so determined.
It is evident that Burgoyne nourished a secret hope that fortune might
yet take a turn favorable to him; otherwise, it is impossible to account
for his making this last and most desperate effort, under conditions
even less favorable than had attended his attack of the 19th of
September.
Fifteen hundred men and ten guns were chosen for the attempt. In plain
language, Burgoyne started out to provoke a combat with an enemy greatly
his superior in numbers, with less than half the force his former
demonstration had been made with. His idea seems to have been to take up
a position from which his cannon would reach the American works. After
intrenching, it was his intention to bring up his heavy artillery, and
open a cannonade which he was confident the enemy could not withstand,
as their defensive works were chiefly built of logs. And out of this
state of things, Burgoyne hoped to derive some substantial benefit.
This plan differed from that of the 19th of September, in that it looked
chiefly to obtaining a more advantageous position; while on the former
occasion it was attempted to force a way through or around the American
left. The lesson of that day had not been lost on Burgoyne, who now
meant to utilize his artillery to the utmost, rather than risk the
inevitable slaughter that must ensue from an attempt to carry the
American lines by storm.
Everything depended upon gaining the desired position before the
Americans could make their dispositions to thwart the attempt.
The importance to the army of this movement induced Burgoyne to call his
three best generals to his aid; so that nothing that experience could
suggest, or skill attempt, should be left undone. It was kept a profound
secret till the troops who were going out to fight were actually under
arms. The rest of the army was to remain in the works; so that, if worst
came to worst, the enemy might not reap any decided advantage from a
victory gained over the fighting corps.
[Sidenote: Oct. 7.]
It was near one o'clock, on the afternoon of the seventh, when Burgoyne
marched out from his own right, toward the American left. He had reached
an eminence rising at the right of the late battle-ground, and not far
removed from Frazer's position on that day, when the pickets of Arnold's
division discovered his approach, and gave the alarm. Having gained a
favorable position for using his guns, Burgoyne halted, and formed his
line.
Upon hearing that the British had advanced to within half a mile of his
left, and were offering battle, Gates decided to accept the challenge,
as he now felt strong enough to do so without fear for the result, and
the behavior of his own troops in the previous battle had been such as
to put an end to his doubts about their ability to cope with British
soldiers. Morgan was therefore ordered to make a _detour_ through the
woods, and fall on the British right flank, while other troops were
attacking on its left.
These movements were gallantly executed. At three o'clock, Burgoyne's
artillery opened the battle; at four, the Americans charged the British
position under a heavy fire of cannon and musketry. Again and again,
the Continentals met the British bayonet without flinching. Never was a
battle more manfully fought. Burgoyne faced death like the meanest
soldier in the ranks. After some discharges, the British cannoneers were
shot down at their pieces, and the hill on which they stood was carried
at the point of the bayonet.
On his part, Morgan grappled with the British right, overthrew it after
a fierce struggle, and drove it back upon the centre. In vain Frazer[52]
tried to stem the tide of defeat by throwing himself into the thickest
of the fight. "That man," said Morgan, pointing him out to his marksmen,
"must die." A rifle bullet soon gave the gallant Scot his death wound,
and he was led from the field.
The combat had lasted scarce an hour. All Burgoyne's guns were taken. Of
the fifteen hundred soldiers he had led into action, four hundred lay
dead or dying around him. Frazer's fall had carried dismay among those
who were still stubbornly yielding the ground to the victorious
Americans. A retreat was sounded. The Americans followed on with loud
shouts. For a few moments a rearguard fight was kept up, then the
retreat became a rout, the rout a race, to see who should first reach
the British lines.
Thus far the action had been maintained on our part, by the same troops
who had fought the battle of September 19, and in part on the same
ground. It was now to be transferred to the enemy's own camp.
Hardly had the British gained the shelter of their works, when the
Americans, led on by Arnold, stormed them with reckless bravery. Gates
had held Arnold back from the field from motives of envy and dislike;
but Arnold, to whom the sound of battle was like the spur to the mettled
courser, at last broke through all restraint. Leaping into the saddle,
he spurred into the thickest of the fight before Gates could stop him.
The point of attack was strongly defended by artillery, and the
Americans here suffered their first repulse. Other troops came up. The
assault soon began again all along the British line. Beaten off in one
place, Arnold spurred over to the enemy's extreme right, where Breyman
was posted behind a breastwork of logs and rails, that formed a right
angle with the rest of the line. Calling on the nearest battalion to
follow him, Arnold leaped his horse over the parapet. The Germans fired
one volley and fled. Our troops took guns and prisoners. By this success
they had gained an opening on Burgoyne's right and rear, precisely as he
had meant to do by them. In this last assault Breyman was killed, and
Arnold wounded.
The day was now too far spent for further efforts to be made on either
side. Little by little, the angry roll of musketry sunk into silence.
The battle was over.
FOOTNOTES:
[51] SIR HENRY CLINTON then commanded at New York, under the orders of
Sir William Howe. Not having received orders to assist Burgoyne in any
event, until he was about to engage with Washington for the possession
of Philadelphia, Howe turned over the matter of assisting Burgoyne to
Clinton, who was compelled to wait for the arrival of fresh troops, then
on the way from England, before he could organize an expedition to
attack our posts in the Highlands of the Hudson. See Introduction; also
Note 1, "Facing Disaster" (p. 60).
[52] GENERAL SIMON FRAZER was of Scotch birth, younger son of Frazer of
Balnain. His actual rank on joining Burgoyne was lieutenant-colonel,
24th foot. With other field officers assigned to command brigades, he
was made acting brigadier, and is therefore known as General Frazer,
though Burgoyne was notified that this _local rank_ would cease when his
army joined Sir William Howe. Frazer's remains were disinterred and
taken to England. The spot where he was wounded is marked by a monument,
and indicates where he endeavored to make a stand after being driven
from his first position. Anburey and Madame Riedesel give graphic
accounts of his death and burial.
XV.
RETREAT AND SURRENDER.
Burgoyne had been everywhere foiled by the battle of the seventh.
Instead of turning Gates's flank his own had been turned. Instead of
thrusting Gates back upon the river, he would surely be forced there
himself, in a few hours, at most. Instead, even, of dealing Gates such a
blow as would favor a retreat, Burgoyne's situation was now more
precarious than ever: it was more than precarious; it was next to
hopeless.
It is again but too plain that Burgoyne had not taken defeat--such a
defeat--seriously into account, or he would never have led out that
gallant little column of fifteen hundred men; first, for victory, then,
for an honorable retreat. His army was now like the wounded lion, whose
expiring struggles the hunter watches at a distance, without fear, and
without danger. All had been lost but honor.
The first and only thing to be done now was promptly to form a new line
of defence, behind which the army could mask its retreat. This was
skilfully and quietly done on the night after the battle, our troops not
attempting to do more than hold the ground already won. In the morning
they occupied the deserted works.
[Illustration: THE RETREAT TO SARATOGA.]
Burgoyne's new position stretched along the heights next the river, so
as to cover the road to Saratoga. He had merely drawn back his centre
and right, while his left wing remained stationary; and he now stood
facing west, instead of south, as before the battle.
[Sidenote: Oct. 8.]
The day passed in skirmishing, reconnoitring, and artillery firing. The
Americans were feeling their way along the enemy's new front, while
Burgoyne's every effort was limited to keeping them at a distance, with
his superior artillery, till night. On our side, his intentions were
rather guessed than certainly known. His great problem was how to get
his army over the Hudson undiscovered. It was supposed that he would
attempt to retreat across his bridge as soon as it was dark. Our
artillery, therefore, tried to destroy it with shot. Moreover, fourteen
hundred men were crossed over to the east bank, and now stood ready to
dispute Burgoyne's passage from that side of the river.
At sunset, General Frazer was buried[53] inside a battery, on the brow
of the heights, according to his dying wish. Chaplain Brudenell read the
burial service, with our balls ploughing up the earth around him, and
our cannon thundering the soldier's requiem from camp to camp.
At nine o'clock, the British army began its retreat along the river
road, leaving its camp-fires burning behind it; profound silence was
enjoined. To avoid confusion, the different corps simply moved off in
the order in which they stood on the lines, or by their right. Upon
finding that his crossing would be opposed by the troops who had passed
over to the east bank, Burgoyne had decided to go back the way he came
as far as Saratoga, and on fording the river at that place. Orders were
therefore given to destroy the bridge. Just before day, his rearguard
set fire to it, and marched off without interference. All the sick and
wounded were left behind.
In view of the fact that all of the enemy's movements announced a rapid
retreat, the Americans seem to have shown a want of vigor in pushing the
advantages they had won by the late battles. This hesitation may be in
part accounted for by the other fact that both Arnold and Lincoln were
disabled. Lincoln had been wounded while reconnoitring the enemy's
right, on the eighth, with a view of passing a force round in his rear.
Gates was thus deprived of his most efficient lieutenants at the moment
when they were most needed. The British army could hardly have been
placed in a more critical position; but, by keeping up a bold front, it
managed to extricate itself without the loss of a man.
[Sidenote: Oct. 9.]
[Sidenote: Dovegat, now Coveville.]
Rain began falling early the next morning. Burgoyne had marched but six
miles, yet dallied till afternoon on the spot where he had halted early
in the day. He then saw, to his inexpressible dismay, the same body of
Americans[54] whom he had seen opposite his encampment at Stillwater,
now marching abreast of him, with the evident design of seizing the
Saratoga ford before he could get to it. The road he meant to take was,
therefore, already as good as in the enemy's hands.
The discovery that he was being everywhere hemmed in hastened
Burgoyne's departure. Much baggage and many wagons and tents were
burned, in order that the army might march the faster. Like a ship,
laboring with the gale, it was relieving itself of all unnecessary
burdens.
Pelted by the storm, in silence, and with downcast looks, the soldiers
plodded wearily on, through mud and water, ankle deep. No tap of drum or
bugle-call put life into their heavy tread. The sense of defeat and
disgrace brooded over the minds of officers and men, as they stole away
in darkness and gloom from an enemy for whom they had but lately felt
such high disdain. Grief, shame, and indignation were the common lot of
high and low. No word was spoken, except when the curt "Forward" of the
officers passed along the ranks. All knew instinctively, that this
retreat was but the prelude to greater disaster, which, perchance, was
not far off.
The same evening, the bedraggled and footsore soldiers waded the
Fishkill[55] where the bridge had been, but was now destroyed, and
bivouacked on the heights of Saratoga.[56] Too weary even to light
fires, to dry their clothing, or cook their suppers, they threw
themselves on the wet ground to snatch a few hours' sleep; for, dark as
it was, and though rain fell in torrents, the firing heard at intervals
throughout the night told them that the Americans were dogging their
footsteps, and would soon be up with them. It seemed as if the foe were
never to be shaken off.
[Sidenote: Oct. 10.]
It was not till after daylight that the British artillery could ford
the Fishkill with safety. The guns were then dragged up the heights and
once more pointed toward the advancing enemy. Numbness and torpor seem
to have pervaded the whole movement thus far. Now it was that Frazer's
loss was most bitterly deplored, for he had often pledged himself to
bring off the army in safety, should a retreat become necessary. He had
marked out, and intrenched this very position, in which the army now
found its last retreat. Almost twenty-four hours had been consumed in
marching not quite ten miles, or at a much slower rate of progress than
Burgoyne had censured Breyman for making to Baum's relief, at
Bennington. Burgoyne seemed to find satisfaction in showing that he
would not be hurried.