CHAPTER VI

SECOND BLOW AT THE CENTRE

[Sidenote: Carleton invades New York]

Ever since the failure of the American invasion of Canada, it had been

the intention of Sir Guy Carleton, in accordance with the wishes of the

ministry, to invade New York by way of Lake Champlain, and to secure the

Mohawk valley and the upper waters of the Hudson. The summer of 1776 had

been employed by Carleton in getting together a fleet with which to

obtain control of the lake. It was an arduous task. Three large vessels

were sent over from England, and proceeded up the St. Lawrence as far as

the rapids, where they were taken to pieces, carried overland to St.

John's, and there put together again. Twenty gunboats and more than two

hundred flat-bottomed transports were built at Montreal, and manned with

700 picked seamen and gunners; and upon this flotilla Carleton embarked

his army of 12,000 men.

[Sidenote: Arnold's preparations]

To oppose the threatened invasion, Benedict Arnold had been working all

the summer with desperate energy. In June the materials for his navy

were growing in the forests of Vermont, while his carpenters with their

tools, his sail-makers with their canvas, and his gunners with their

guns had mostly to be brought from the coast towns of Connecticut and

Massachusetts. By the end of September he had built a little fleet of

three schooners, two sloops, three galleys, and eight gondolas, and

fitted it out with seventy guns and such seamen and gunners as he could

get together. With this flotilla he could not hope to prevent the

advance of such an overwhelming force as that of the enemy. The most he

could do would be to worry and delay it, besides raising the spirits of

the people by the example of an obstinate and furious resistance. To

allow Carleton to reach Ticonderoga without opposition would be

disheartening, whereas by delay and vexation he might hope to dampen the

enthusiasm of the invader. With this end in view, Arnold proceeded down

the lake far to the north of Crown Point, and taking up a strong

position between Valcour Island and the western shore, so that both his

wings were covered and he could be attacked only in front, he lay in

wait for the enemy. James Wilkinson, who twenty years afterward became

commander-in-chief of the American army, and survived the second war

with England, was then at Ticonderoga, on Gates's staff. Though

personally hostile to Arnold, he calls attention in his Memoirs to the

remarkable skill exhibited in the disposition of the little fleet at

Valcour Island, which was the same in principle as that by which

Macdonough won his brilliant victory, not far from the same spot, in

1814.

[Illustration: VIEW OF BATTLE OF VALCOUR ISLAND]

[Sidenote: Battle of Valcour Island, Oct. 11, 1776]

On the 11th of October, Sir Guy Carleton's squadron approached, and

there ensued the first battle fought between an American and a British

fleet. At sundown, after a desperate fight of seven hours' duration, the

British withdrew out of range, intending to renew the struggle in the

morning. Both fleets had suffered severely, but the Americans were so

badly cut up that Carleton expected to force them to surrender the next

day. But Arnold during the hazy night contrived to slip through the

British line with all that was left of his crippled flotilla, and made

away for Crown Point with all possible speed. Though he once had to stop

to mend leaks, and once to take off the men and guns from two gondolas

which were sinking, he nevertheless, by dint of sailing and kedging, got

such a start that the enemy did not overtake him until the next day but

one, when he was nearing Crown Point. While the rest of the fleet, by

Arnold's orders, now crowded sail for their haven, he in his schooner

sustained an ugly fight for four hours with the three largest British

vessels, one of which mounted eighteen twelve-pounders. His vessel was

wofully cut up, and her deck covered with dead and dying men, when,

having sufficiently delayed the enemy, he succeeded in running her

aground in a small creek, where he set her on fire, and she perished

gloriously, with her flag flying till the flames brought it down. Then

marching through woodland paths to Crown Point, where his other vessels

had now disembarked their men, he brought away his whole force in safety

to Ticonderoga. When Carleton appeared before that celebrated fortress,

finding it strongly defended, and doubting his ability to reduce it

before the setting in of cold weather, he decided to take his army back

to Canada, satisfied for the present with having gained control of Lake

Champlain. This sudden retreat of Carleton astonished both friend and

foe. He was blamed for it by his generals, Burgoyne, Phillips, and

Riedesel, as well as by the king; and when we see how easily the

fortress was seized by Phillips in the following summer, we can hardly

doubt that it was a grave mistake.

[Sidenote: Congress promotes five junior brigadiers over Arnold, Feb.

19, 1777]

[Sidenote: Philip Schuyler]

Arnold had now won an enviable reputation as the "bravest of the brave."

In his terrible march through the wilderness of Maine, in the assault

upon Quebec, and in the defence of Lake Champlain, he had shown rare

heroism and skill. The whole country rang with his praises, and

Washington regarded him as one of the ablest officers in the army. Yet

when Congress now proceeded to appoint five new major-generals, they

selected Stirling, Mifflin, St. Clair, Stephen, and Lincoln, passing

over Arnold, who was the senior brigadier. None of the generals named

could for a moment be compared with Arnold for ability, and this strange

action of Congress, coming soon after such a brilliant exploit,

naturally hurt his feelings and greatly incensed him. Arnold was proud

and irascible in temper, but on this occasion he controlled himself

manfully, and listened to Washington, who entreated him not to resign.

So astonished was Washington at the action of Congress that at first he

could not believe it. He thought either that Arnold must really have

received a prior appointment, which for some reason had not yet been

made public, or else that his name must have been omitted through some

unaccountable oversight. It turned out, however, on further inquiry,

that state jealousies had been the cause of the mischief. The reason

assigned for ignoring Arnold's services was that Connecticut had already

two major-generals, and was not in fairness entitled to any more! But

beneath this alleged reason there lurked a deeper reason, likewise

founded in jealousies between the states. The intrigues which soon after

disgraced the northern army and imperilled the safety of the country had

already begun to bear bitter fruit. Since the beginning of the war,

Major-General Philip Schuyler had been in command of the northern

department, with his headquarters at Albany, whence his ancestors had a

century before hurled defiance at Frontenac. His family was one of the

most distinguished in New York, and an inherited zeal for the public

service thrilled in every drop of his blood. No more upright or

disinterested man could be found in America, and for bravery and

generosity he was like the paladin of some mediæval romance. In spite of

these fine qualities, he was bitterly hated by the New England men, who

formed a considerable portion of his army. Beside the general stupid

dislike which the people of New York and of New England then felt for

each other, echoes of which are still sometimes heard nowadays, there

was a special reason for the odium which was heaped upon Schuyler. The

dispute over the possession of Vermont had now raged fiercely for

thirteen years, and Schuyler, as a member of the New York legislature,

had naturally been zealous in urging the claims of his own state. For

this crime the men of New England were never able to forgive him, and he

was pursued with vindictive hatred until his career as a general was

ruined. His orders were obeyed with sullenness, the worst interpretation

was put upon every one of his acts, and evil-minded busybodies were

continually pouring into the ears of Congress a stream of tattle, which

gradually wore out their trust in him.

[Sidenote: Horatio Gates]

The evil was greatly enhanced by the fact that among the generals of the

northern army there was one envious creature who was likely to take

Schuyler's place in case he should be ousted from it, and who for so

desirable an object was ready to do any amount of intriguing. The part

sustained by Charles Lee with reference to Washington was to some extent

paralleled here by the part sustained toward Schuyler by Horatio Gates.

There is indeed no reason for supposing that Gates was capable of such

baseness as Lee exhibited in his willingness to play into the hands of

the enemy; nor had he the nerve for such prodigious treason as that in

which Arnold engaged after his sympathies had become alienated from the

American cause. With all his faults, Gates never incurred the odium

which belongs to a public traitor. But his nature was thoroughly weak

and petty, and he never shrank from falsehood when it seemed to serve

his purpose. Unlike Lee, he was comely in person, mild in disposition,

and courteous in manner, except when roused to anger or influenced by

spite, when he sometimes became very violent. He never gave evidence of

either skill or bravery; and in taking part in the war his only

solicitude seems to have been for his own personal advancement. In the

course of his campaigning with the northern army, he seems never once to

have been under fire, but he would incur no end of fatigue to get a

private talk with a delegate in Congress. Like many others, he took a

high position at the beginning of the struggle simply because he was a

veteran of the Seven Years' War, having been one of the officers who

were brought off in safety from the wreck of Braddock's army by the

youthful skill and prowess of Washington. At present, and until after

the end of the Saratoga campaign, such reputation as he had was won by

appropriating the fame which was earned by his fellow-generals. He was

in command at Ticonderoga when Arnold performed his venturesome feat on

Lake Champlain, and when Carleton made his blunder in not attacking the

stronghold; and all this story Gates told to Congress as the story of an

advantage which he had somehow gained over Carleton, at the same time

anxiously inquiring if Congress regarded him, in his remote position at

Ticonderoga, as subject to the orders of Schuyler at Albany. Finding

that he was thus regarded as subordinate, he became restive, and seized

the earliest opportunity of making a visit to Congress. The retreat of

Carleton enabled Schuyler to send seven regiments to the relief of

Washington in New Jersey, and we have already seen how Gates, on

arriving with this reinforcement, declined to assist personally in the

Trenton campaign, and took the occasion to follow Congress in its

retreat to Baltimore.

[Portrait: Horatio Gates]

[Sidenote: Gates intrigues against Schuyler]

The winter seems to have been spent in intrigue. Knowing the chief

source of Schuyler's unpopularity, Gates made it a point to declare, as

often and as loudly as possible, his belief that the state of New York

had no title to the Green Mountain country. In this way he won golden

opinions from the people of New England, and rose high in the good

graces of such members of Congress as Samuel Adams, whose noble nature

was slow to perceive his meanness and duplicity. The failure of the

invasion of Canada had caused much chagrin in Congress, and it was

sought to throw the whole blame of it upon Schuyler for having, as it

was alleged, inadequately supported Montgomery and Arnold. The unjust

charge served to arouse a prejudice in many minds, and during the winter

some irritating letters passed between Schuyler and Congress, until late

in March, 1777, he obtained permission to visit Philadelphia and

vindicate himself. On the 22d of May, after a thorough investigation,

Schuyler's conduct received the full approval of Congress, and he was

confirmed in his command of the northern department, which was expressly

defined as including Lakes George and Champlain, as well as the valleys

of the Hudson and the Mohawk.

[Sidenote: Gates visits Congress]

The sensitive soul of Gates now took fresh offence. He had been sent

back in March to his post at Ticonderoga, just as Schuyler was starting

for Philadelphia, and he flattered himself with the hope that he would

soon be chosen to supersede his gallant commander. Accordingly when he

found that Schuyler had been reinstated in all his old command and

honours, he flew into a rage, refused to serve in a subordinate

capacity, wrote an impudent letter to Washington, and at last got

permission to visit Congress again, while General St. Clair was

appointed in his stead to the command of the great northern fortress. On

the 19th of June, Gates obtained a hearing before Congress, and behaved

with such unseemly violence that after being repeatedly called to order,

he was turned out of the room, amid a scene of angry confusion. Such

conduct should naturally have ruined his cause, but he had made so many

powerful friends that by dint of more or less apologetic talk the

offence was condoned.

[Portrait: Arthur St. Clair]

[Sidenote: Charges against Arnold]

Throughout these bickerings Arnold had been the steadfast friend of

Schuyler; and although his brilliant exploits had won general

admiration, he did not fail to catch some of the odium so plentifully

bestowed upon the New York commander. In the chaos of disappointment and

wrath which ensued upon the disastrous retreat from Canada in 1776, when

everybody was eager to punish somebody else for the ill fortune which

was solely due to the superior resources of the enemy, Arnold came in

for his share of blame. No one could find any fault with his military

conduct, but charges were brought against him on the ground of some

exactions of private property at Montreal which had been made for the

support of the army. A thorough investigation of the case demonstrated

Arnold's entire uprightness in the matter, and the verdict of Congress,

which declared the charges to be "cruel and unjust," was indorsed by

Washington. Nevertheless, in the manifold complications of feeling which

surrounded the Schuyler trouble, these unjust charges succeeded in

arousing a prejudice which may have had something to do with the slight

cast upon Arnold in the appointment of the new major-generals. In the

whole course of American history there are few sadder chapters than

this. Among the scandals of this eventful winter we can trace the

beginnings of the melancholy chain of events which by and by resulted in

making the once heroic name of Benedict Arnold a name of opprobrium

throughout the world. We already begin to see, too, originating in Lee's

intrigues of the preceding autumn, and nourished by the troubles growing

out of the Vermont quarrel and the ambitious schemes of Gates, the

earliest germs of that faction which erelong was to seek to compass the

overthrow of Washington himself.

[Sidenote: Tryon's expedition against Danbury]

[Sidenote: Arnold defeats Tryon at Ridgefield, April 27, 1777]

For the present the injustice suffered by Arnold had not wrought its

darksome change in him. A long and complicated series of influences was

required to produce that result. To the earnest appeal of Washington

that he should not resign he responded cordially, declaring that no

personal considerations should induce him to stay at home while the

interests of his country were at stake. He would zealously serve under

his juniors, who had lately been raised above him, so long as the common

welfare was in danger. An opportunity for active service soon presented

itself. Among the preparations for the coming summer campaign, Sir

William Howe thought it desirable to cripple the Americans by seizing a

large quantity of military stores which had been accumulated at Danbury

in Connecticut. An expedition was sent out, very much like that which at

Lexington and Concord had ushered in the war, and it met with a similar

reception. A force of 2,000 men, led by the royal governor, Tryon, of

North Carolina fame, landed at Fairfield, and marched to Danbury, where

they destroyed the stores and burned a large part of the town. The

militia turned out, as on the day of Lexington, led by General Wooster,

who was slain in the first skirmish. By this time Arnold, who happened

to be visiting his children in New Haven, had heard of the affair, and

came upon the scene with 600 men. At Ridgefield a desperate fight

ensued, in which Arnold had two horses killed under him. The British

were defeated. By the time they reached their ships, 200 of their number

had been killed or wounded, and, with the yeomanry swarming on every

side, they narrowly escaped capture. For his share in this action Arnold

was made a major-general, and was presented by Congress with a fine

horse; but nothing was done towards restoring him to his relative rank,

nor was any explanation vouchsafed. Washington offered him the command

of the Hudson at Peekskill, which was liable to prove one of the

important points in the ensuing campaign; but Arnold for the moment

declined to take any such position until he should have conferred with

Congress, and fathomed the nature of the difficulties by which he had

been beset; and so the command of this important position was given to

the veteran Putnam.

The time for the summer campaign was now at hand. The first year of the

independence of the United States was nearly completed, and up to this

time the British had nothing to show for their work except the capture

of the city of New York and the occupation of Newport. The army of

Washington, which six months ago they had regarded as conquered and

dispersed, still balked and threatened them from its inexpugnable

position on the heights of Morristown. It was high time that something

more solid should be accomplished, for every month of adverse possession

added fresh weight to the American cause, and increased the probability

that France would interfere.

[Sidenote: The military centre of the United States was the state of

New York]

A decisive blow was accordingly about to be struck. After careful study

by Lord George Germain, and much consultation with General Burgoyne, who

had returned to England for the winter, it was decided to adhere to the

plan of the preceding year, with slight modifications. The great object

was to secure firm possession of the entire valley of the Hudson,

together with that of the Mohawk. It must be borne in mind that at this

time the inhabited part of the state of New York consisted almost

entirely of the Mohawk and Hudson valleys. All the rest was unbroken

wilderness, save for an occasional fortified trading-post. With a total

population of about 170,000, New York ranked seventh among the thirteen

states; just after Maryland and Connecticut, just before South Carolina.

At the same time, the geographical position of New York, whether from a

commercial or from a military point of view, was as commanding then as

it has ever been. It was thought that so small a population, among which

there were known to be many Tories, might easily be conquered and the

country firmly held. The people of New Jersey and Pennsylvania were

regarded as lukewarm supporters of the Declaration of Independence, and

it was supposed that the conquest of New York might soon be followed by

the subjection of these two provinces. With the British power thus

thrust, like a vast wedge, through the centre of the confederacy, it

would be impossible for New England to coöperate with the southern

states, and it was hoped that the union of the colonies against the

Crown would thus be effectually broken.

[Portrait: GENERAL BURGOYNE]

[Signature: J Burgoyne]

[Sidenote: A second blow to be struck at the centre. The plan of

campaign]

With this object of conquering New York, we have seen Carleton, in 1776,

approaching through Lake Champlain, while Howe was wresting Manhattan

Island from Washington. But the plan was imperfectly conceived, and the

coöperation was feeble. How feeble it was is well shown by the fact that

Carleton's ill-judged retreat from Crown Point enabled Schuyler to send

reinforcements to Washington in time to take part in the great strokes

at Trenton and Princeton. Something, however, had been accomplished. In

spite of Arnold's desperate resistance and Washington's consummate

skill, the enemy had gained a hold upon both the northern and the

southern ends of the long line. But this obstinate resistance served to

some extent to awaken the enemy to the arduous character of the problem.

The plan was more carefully studied, and it was intended that this time

the coöperation should be more effectual. In order to take possession of

the whole state by one grand system of operations, it was decided that

the invasion should be conducted by three distinct armies operating upon

converging lines. A strong force from Canada was to take Ticonderoga,

and proceed down the line of the Hudson to Albany. This force was now to

be commanded by General Burgoyne, while his superior officer, General

Carleton, remained at Quebec. A second and much smaller force, under

Colonel St. Leger, was to go up the St. Lawrence to Lake Ontario, land

at Oswego, and, with the aid of Sir John Johnson and the Indians, reduce

Fort Stanwix; after which he was to come down the Mohawk valley and

unite his forces with those of Burgoyne. At the same time, Sir William

Howe was to ascend the Hudson with the main army, force the passes of

the Highlands at Peekskill, and effect a junction with Burgoyne at

Albany. The junction of the three armies was expected to complete the

conquest of New York, and to insure the overthrow of American

independence.

[Illustration: BURGOYNE'S INVASION OF NEW YORK, JULY-OCTOBER, 1777]

[Sidenote: The plan was unsound]

Such was the plan of campaign prepared by the ministry. There can be no

doubt that it was carefully studied, or that, if successful, it would

have proved very disastrous to the Americans. There is room for very

grave doubt, however, as to whether it was the most judicious plan to

adopt. The method of invading any country by distinct forces operating

upon converging lines is open to the objection that either force is

liable to be separately overwhelmed without the possibility of

reinforcement from the other. Such a plan is prudent only when the

invaded country has good roads, and when the invaders have a great

superiority in force, as was the case when the allied armies advanced

upon Paris in 1814. In northern and central New York, in 1777, the

conditions were very unfavourable to such a plan. The distances to be

traversed were long, and the roads were few and bad. Except in the

immediate neighbourhood of Albany and Saratoga, the country was covered

with the primeval forest, through which only the trapper and the savage

could make their way with speed. The Americans, too, had the great

advantage of operating upon interior lines. It was difficult for

Burgoyne at Fort Edward, St. Leger before Fort Stanwix, and Howe in the

city of New York to communicate with each other at all; it was

impossible for them to do so promptly; whereas nothing could be easier

than for Washington at Morristown to reach Putnam at Peekskill, or for

Putnam to forward troops to Schuyler at Albany, or for Schuyler to send

out a force to raise the siege of Fort Stanwix. In view of these

considerations, it seems probable that Lord George Germain would have

acted more wisely if he had sent Burgoyne with his army directly by sea

to reinforce Sir William Howe. The army thus united, and numbering more

than 30,000 men, would have been really formidable. If they had

undertaken to go up the river to Albany, it would have been hard to

prevent them. If their united presence at Albany was the great object of

the campaign, there was no advantage in sending one commander to reach

it by a difficult and dangerous overland march. The Hudson is

navigable by large vessels all the way to Albany, and by advancing in

this way the army might have preserved its connections; and whatever

disaster might have befallen, it would have been difficult for the

Americans to surround and capture so large a force. Once arrived at

Albany, the expedition of St. Leger might have set out from that point

as a matter of subsequent detail, and would have had a base within easy

distance upon which to fall back in case of defeat.

[Sidenote: Germain's fatal error]

It does not appear, therefore, that there were any advantages to be

gained by Burgoyne's advance from the north which can be regarded as

commensurate with the risk which he incurred. To have transferred the

northern army from the St. Lawrence to the Hudson by sea would have been

far easier and safer than to send it through a hundred miles of

wilderness in northern New York; and whatever it could have effected in

the interior of the state could have been done as well in the former

case as in the latter. But these considerations do not seem to have

occurred to Lord George Germain. In the wars with the French, the

invading armies from Canada had always come by way of Lake Champlain, so

that this route was accepted without question, as if consecrated by long

usage. Through a similar association of ideas an exaggerated importance

was attached to the possession of Ticonderoga. The risks of the

enterprise, moreover, were greatly underestimated. In imagining that the

routes of Burgoyne and St. Leger would lie through a friendly country,

the ministry fatally misconceived the whole case. There was, indeed, a

powerful Tory party in the country, just as in the days of Robert Bruce

there was an English party in Scotland, just as in the days of Miltiades

there was a Persian party in Attika. But no one has ever doubted that

the victors at Marathon and at Bannockburn went forth with a hearty

godspeed from their fellow-countrymen; and the obstinate resistance

encountered by St. Leger, within a short distance of Johnson's Tory

stronghold, is an eloquent commentary upon the error of the ministry in

their estimate of the actual significance of the loyalist element on the

New York frontier.

[Illustration: RUINS OF TICONDEROGA IN 1818]

[Sidenote: Too many unknown quantities]

It thus appears that in the plan of a triple invasion upon converging

lines the ministry were dealing with too many unknown quantities. They

were running a prodigious risk for the sake of an advantage which in

itself was extremely open to question; for should it turn out that the

strength of the Tory party was not sufficiently great to make the

junction of the three armies at Albany at once equivalent to the

complete conquest of the state, then the end for which the campaign was

undertaken could not be secured without supplementary campaigns. Neither

a successful march up and down the Hudson river nor the erection of a

chain of British fortresses on that river could effectually cut off the

southern communications of New England, unless all military resistance

were finally crushed in the state of New York. The surest course for

the British, therefore, would have been to concentrate all their

available force at the mouth of the Hudson, and continue to make the

destruction of Washington's army the chief object of their exertions. In

view of the subtle genius which he had shown during the last campaign,

that would have been an arduous task; but, as events showed, they had to

deal with his genius all the same on the plan which they adopted, and at

a great disadvantage.

[Sidenote: Danger from New England ignored]

Another point which the ministry overlooked was the effect of Burgoyne's

advance upon the people of New England. They could reasonably count upon

alarming the yeomanry of New Hampshire and Massachusetts by a bold

stroke upon the Hudson, but they failed to see that this alarm would

naturally bring about a rising that would be very dangerous to the

British cause. Difficult as it was at that time to keep the Continental

army properly recruited, it was not at all difficult to arouse the

yeomanry in the presence of an immediate danger. In the western parts of

New England there were scarcely any Tories to complicate the matter; and

the flank movement by the New England militia became one of the most

formidable features in the case.

[Sidenote: The dispatch that was never sent]

But whatever may be thought of the merits of Lord George's plan, there

can be no doubt that its success was absolutely dependent upon the

harmonious coöperation of all the forces involved in it. The ascent of

the Hudson by Sir William Howe, with the main army, was as essential a

part of the scheme as the descent of Burgoyne from the north; and as the

two commanders could not easily communicate with each other, it was

necessary that both should be strictly bound by their instructions. At

this point a fatal blunder was made. Burgoyne was expressly directed to

follow the prescribed line down the Hudson, whatever might happen, until

he should effect his junction with the main army. On the other hand, no

such unconditional orders were received by Howe. He understood the plan

of campaign, and knew that he was expected to ascend the river in

force; but he was left with the usual discretionary power, and we shall

presently see what an imprudent use he made of it. The reasons for this

inconsistency on the part of the ministry were for a long time

unintelligible; but a memorandum of Lord Shelburne, lately brought to

light by Lord Edmund Fitzmaurice, has solved the mystery. It seems that

a dispatch, containing positive and explicit orders for Howe to ascend

the Hudson, was duly drafted, and, with many other papers, awaited the

minister's signature. Lord George Germain, being on his way to the

country, called at his office to sign the dispatches; but when he came

to the letter addressed to General Howe, he found it had not been "fair

copied." Lord George, like the old gentleman who killed himself in

defence of the great principle that crumpets are wholesome, never would

be put out of his way by anything. Unwilling to lose his holiday, he

hurried off to the green meadows of Kent, intending to sign the letter

on his return. But when he came back the matter had slipped from his

mind. The document on which hung the fortunes of an army, and perhaps of

a nation, got thrust unsigned into a pigeon-hole, where it was duly

discovered some time after the disaster at Saratoga had become part of

history.

* * * * *

[Portrait: Riedesel]

[Portrait: W Phillips]

[Sidenote: Burgoyne advances upon Ticonderoga]

[Sidenote: Phillips seizes Mount Defiance]

[Sidenote: St. Clair abandons Ticonderoga, July 5, 1777]

[Sidenote: Battle of Hubbardton, July 7]

Happy in his ignorance of the risks he was assuming, Burgoyne took the

field about the 1st of June, with an army of 7,902 men, of whom 4,135

were British regulars. His German troops from Brunswick, 3,116 in

number, were commanded by Baron Riedesel, an able general, whose

accomplished wife has left us such a picturesque and charming

description of the scenes of this adventurous campaign. Of Canadian

militia there were 148, and of Indians 503. The regular troops, both

German and English, were superbly trained and equipped, and their

officers were selected with especial care. Generals Phillips and Fraser

were regarded as among the best officers in the British service. On the

second anniversary of Bunker Hill this army began crossing the lake to

Crown Point; and on the 1st of July it appeared before Ticonderoga,

where St. Clair was posted with a garrison of 3,000 men. Since its

capture by Allen, the fortress had been carefully strengthened, until it

was now believed to be impregnable. But while no end of time and expense

had been devoted to the fortifications, a neighbouring point which

commands the whole position had been strangely neglected. A little less

than a mile south of Ticonderoga, the narrow mountain ridge between the

two lakes ends abruptly in a bold crag, which rises 600 feet sheer over

the blue water. Practised eyes in the American fort had already seen

that a hostile battery Phillips planted on this eminence would render

their stronghold untenable; but it was not believed that siege-guns

could be dragged up the steep ascent, and so, in spite of due warning,

the crag had not been secured when the British army arrived. General

Phillips at once saw the value of the position, and, approaching it by a

defile that was screened from the view of the fort, worked night and day

in breaking out a pathway and dragging up cannon. "Where a goat can go,

a man may go; and where a man can go, he can haul up a gun," argued the

gallant general. Great was the astonishment of the garrison when, on the

morning of July 5th, they saw red coats swarming on the hill, which the

British, rejoicing in their exploit, now named Mount Defiance. There

were not only red coats there, but brass cannon, which by the next day

would be ready for work. Ticonderoga had become a trap, from which the

garrison could not escape too quickly. A council of war was held, and

under cover of night St. Clair took his little army across the lake and

retreated upon Castleton in the Green Mountains. Such guns and stores as

could be saved, with the women and wounded men, were embarked in 200

boats, and sent, under a strong escort, to the head of the lake, whence

they continued their retreat to Fort Edward on the Hudson. About three

o'clock in the morning a house accidentally took fire, and in the glare

of the flames the British sentinels caught a glimpse of the American

rear-guard just as it was vanishing in the sombre depths of the forest.

Alarm guns were fired, and in less than an hour the British flag was

hoisted over the empty fortress, while General Fraser, with 900 men, had

started in hot pursuit of the retreating Americans. Riedesel was soon

sent to support him, while Burgoyne, leaving nearly 1,000 men to

garrison the fort, started up the lake with the main body of the army.

On the morning of the 7th, General Fraser overtook the American

rear-guard of 1,000 men, under Colonels Warner and Francis, at the

village of Hubbardton, about six miles behind the main army. A fierce

fight ensued, in which Fraser was worsted, and had begun to fall back,

with the loss of one fifth of his men, when Riedesel came up with his

Germans, and the Americans were put to flight, leaving one third of

their number killed or wounded. This obstinate resistance at Hubbardton

served to check the pursuit, and five days later St. Clair succeeded,

without further loss, in reaching Fort Edward, where he joined the main

army under Schuyler.

[Illustration: TRUMBULL'S PLAN OF TICONDEROGA AND MOUNT DEFIANCE]

[Sidenote: One swallow does not make a summer]

Up to this moment, considering the amount of work done and the extent of

country traversed, the loss of the British had been very small. They

began to speak contemptuously of their antagonists, and the officers

amused themselves by laying wagers as to the precise number of days it

would take them to reach Albany. In commenting on the failure to occupy

Mount Defiance, Burgoyne made a general statement on the strength of a

single instance,--which is the besetting sin of human reasoning. "It

convinces me," said he, "that the Americans have no men of military

science." Yet General Howe at Boston, in neglecting to occupy Dorchester

Heights, had made just the same blunder, and with less excuse; for no

one had ever doubted that batteries might be placed there by somebody.

[Sidenote: The king's glee]

[Sidenote: Wrath of John Adams]

[Sidenote: Gates chiefly to blame]

In England the fall of Ticonderoga was greeted with exultation, as the

death-blow to the American cause. Horace Walpole tells how the king

rushed into the queen's apartment, clapping his hands and shouting, "I

have beat them! I have beat all the Americans!" People began to discuss

the best method of reëstablishing the royal governments in the

"colonies." In America there was general consternation. St. Clair was

greeted with a storm of abuse. John Adams, then president of the Board

of War, wrote, in the first white heat of indignation, "We shall never

be able to defend a post till we shoot a general!" Schuyler, too, as

commander of the department, was ignorantly and wildly blamed, and his

political enemies seized upon the occasion to circulate fresh stories to

his discredit. A court-martial in the following year vindicated St.

Clair's prudence in giving up an untenable position and saving his army

from capture. The verdict was just, but there is no doubt that the

failure to fortify Mount Defiance was a grave error of judgment, for

which the historian may fairly apportion the blame between St. Clair and

Gates. It was Gates who had been in command of Ticonderoga in the autumn

of 1776, when an attack by Carleton was expected, and his attention had

been called to this weak point by Colonel Trumbull, whom he laughed to

scorn. Gates had again been in command from March to June. St. Clair had

taken command about three weeks before Burgoyne's approach; he had

seriously considered the question of fortifying Mount Defiance, but had

not been sufficiently prompt. In no case could any blame attach to

Schuyler. Gates was more at fault than any one else, but he did not

happen to be at hand when the catastrophe occurred, and accordingly

people did not associate him with it. On the contrary, amid the general

wrath, the loss of the northern citadel was alleged as a reason for

superseding Schuyler by Gates; for if he had been there, it was thought

that the disaster would have been prevented.

[Portrait: W Turnbull]

[Sidenote: Burgoyne's difficulties begin]

The irony of events, however, alike ignoring American consternation and

British glee, showed that the capture of Ticonderoga was not to help the

invaders in the least. On the contrary, it straightway became a burden,

for it detained an eighth part of Burgoyne's force in garrison at a time

when he could ill spare it. Indeed, alarming as his swift advance had

seemed at first, Burgoyne's serious difficulties were now just

beginning, and the harder he laboured to surmount them the more

completely did he work himself into a position from which it was

impossible either to advance or to recede. On the 10th of July his

whole army had reached Skenesborough (now Whitehall), at the head of

Lake Champlain. From this point to Fort Edward, where the American army

was encamped, the distance was twenty miles as the crow flies; but

Schuyler had been industriously at work with those humble weapons the

axe and the crowbar, which in warfare sometimes prove mightier than the

sword. The roads, bad enough at their best, were obstructed every few

yards by huge trunks of fallen trees, that lay with their boughs

interwoven. Wherever the little streams could serve as aids to the

march, they were choked up with stumps and stones; wherever they served

as obstacles which needed to be crossed, the bridges were broken down.

The country was such an intricate labyrinth of creeks and swamps that

more than forty bridges had to be rebuilt in the course of the march.

Under these circumstances, Burgoyne's advance must be regarded as a

marvel of celerity. He accomplished a mile a day, and reached Fort

Edward on the 30th of July.

[Sidenote: Schuyler wisely evacuates Fort Edward]

[Sidenote: Enemies gathering in Burgoyne's rear]

In the mean time Schuyler had crossed the Hudson, and slowly fallen back

to Stillwater. For this retrograde movement fresh blame was visited upon

him by the general public, which at all times is apt to suppose that a

war should mainly consist of bloody battles, and which can seldom be

made to understand the strategic value of a retreat. The facts of the

case were also misunderstood. Fort Edward was supposed to be an

impregnable stronghold, whereas it was really commanded by highlands.

The Marquis de Chastellux, who visited it somewhat later, declared that

it could be taken at any time by 500 men with four siege-guns. Now for

fighting purposes an open field is much better than an untenable

fortress. If Schuyler had stayed in Fort Edward, he would probably have

been forced to surrender; and his wisdom in retreating is further shown

by the fact that every moment of delay counted in his favour. The

militia of New York and New England were already beating to arms. Some

of those yeomen who were with the army were allowed to go home for the

harvest; but the loss was more than made good by the numerous levies

which, at Schuyler's suggestion and by Washington's orders, were

collecting under General Lincoln in Vermont, for the purpose of

threatening Burgoyne in the rear. The people whose territory was invaded

grew daily more troublesome to the enemy. Burgoyne had supposed that it

would be necessary only to show himself at the head of an army, when the

people would rush by hundreds to offer support or seek protection. He

now found that the people withdrew from his line of advance, driving

their cattle before them, and seeking shelter, when possible, within the

lines of the American army. In his reliance upon the aid of New York

loyalists, he was utterly disappointed; very few Tories joined him, and

these could offer neither sound advice nor personal influence wherewith

to help him. When the yeomanry collected by hundreds, it was only to vex

him and retard his progress.

[Sidenote: Use of Indian auxiliaries]

[Sidenote: Burgoyne's address to the chiefs]

Even had the loyalist feeling on the Vermont frontier of New York been

far stronger than it really was, Burgoyne had done much to alienate or

stifle it by his ill-advised employment of Indian auxiliaries. For this

blunder the responsibility rests mainly with Lord North and Lord George

Germain. Burgoyne had little choice in the matter except to carry out

his instructions. Being a humane man, and sharing, perhaps, in that view

of the "noble savage" which was fashionable in Europe in the eighteenth

century, he fancied he could prevail upon his tawny allies to forego

their cherished pastime of murdering and scalping. When, at the

beginning of the campaign, he was joined by a party of Wyandots and

Ottawas, under command of that same redoubtable Charles de Langlade who,

twenty-two years before, had achieved the ruin of Braddock, he explained

his policy to them in an elaborate speech, full of such sentimental

phrases as the Indian mind was supposed to delight in. The slaughter of

aged men, of women and children and unresisting prisoners, was

absolutely prohibited; and "on no account, or pretense, or subtlety, or

prevarication," were scalps to be taken from wounded or dying men. An

order more likely to prove efficient was one which provided a reward for

every savage who should bring his prisoners to camp in safety. To these

injunctions, which must have inspired them with pitying contempt, the

chiefs laconically replied that they had "sharpened their hatchets upon

their affections," and were ready to follow their "great white father."

[Portrait: LORD NORTH]

[Sidenote: It is ridiculed by Burke]

The employment of Indian auxiliaries was indignantly denounced by the

opposition in Parliament, and when the news of this speech of Burgoyne's

reached England it was angrily ridiculed by Burke, who took a sounder

view of the natural instincts of the red man. "Suppose," said Burke,

"that there was a riot on Tower Hill. What would the keeper of his

majesty's lions do? Would he not fling open the dens of the wild beasts,

and then address them thus? 'My gentle lions, my humane bears, my

tender-hearted hyenas, go forth! But I exhort you, as you are Christians

and members of civilized society, to take care not to hurt any man,

woman, or child.'" The House of Commons was convulsed over this

grotesque picture; and Lord North, to whom it seemed irresistibly funny

to hear an absent man thus denounced for measures which he himself had

originated, sat choking with laughter, while tears rolled down his great

fat cheeks.

[Sidenote: The story of Jane McCrea]

It soon turned out, however, to be no laughing matter. The cruelties

inflicted indiscriminately upon patriots and loyalists soon served to

madden the yeomanry, and array against the invaders whatever wavering

sentiment had hitherto remained in the country. One sad incident in

particular has been treasured up in the memory of the people, and

celebrated in song and story. Jenny McCrea, the beautiful daughter of a

Scotch clergyman of Paulus Hook, was at Fort Edward, visiting her friend

Mrs. McNeil, who was a loyalist and a cousin of General Fraser. On the

morning of July 27th, a marauding party of Indians burst into the house,

and carried away the two ladies. They were soon pursued by some American

soldiers, who exchanged a few shots with them. In the confusion which

ensued the party was scattered, and Mrs. McNeil was taken alone into the

camp of the approaching British army. Next day a savage of gigantic

stature, a famous sachem, known as the Wyandot Panther, came into the

camp with a scalp which Mrs. McNeil at once recognized as Jenny's, from

the silky black tresses, more than a yard in length. A search was made,

and the body of the poor girl was found hard by a spring in the forest,

pierced with three bullet wounds. How she came to her cruel death was

never known. The Panther plausibly declared that she had been

accidentally shot during the scuffle with the soldiers, but his veracity

was open to question, and the few facts that were known left ample room

for conjecture. The popular imagination soon framed its story with a

romantic completeness that thrust aside even these few facts. Miss

McCrea was betrothed to David Jones, a loyalist who was serving as

lieutenant in Burgoyne's army. In the legend which immediately sprang

up, Mr. Jones was said to have sent a party of Indians, with a letter to

his betrothed, entreating her to come to him within the British lines

that they might be married. For bringing her to him in safety the

Indians were to receive a barrel of rum. When she had entrusted herself

to their care, and the party had proceeded as far as the spring, where

the savages stopped to drink, a dispute arose as to who was to have the

custody of the barrel of rum, and many high words ensued, until one of

the party settled the question offhand by slaying the lady with his

tomahawk. It would be hard to find a more interesting example of the

mushroom-like growth and obstinate vitality of a romantic legend. The

story seems to have had nothing in common with the observed facts,

except the existence of the two lovers and the Indians and a spring in

the forest.[12] Yet it took possession of the popular mind almost

immediately after the event, and it has ever since been repeated, with

endless variations in detail, by American historians. Mr. Jones

himself--who lived, a broken-hearted man, for half a century after the

tragedy--was never weary of pointing out its falsehood and absurdity;

but all his testimony, together with that of Mrs. McNeil and other

witnesses, to the facts that really happened was powerless to shake the

hold upon the popular fancy which the legend had instantly gained. Such

an instance, occurring in a community of shrewd and well-educated

people, affords a suggestive commentary upon the origin and growth of

popular tales in earlier and more ignorant ages.

[Illustration: THE ALLIES--PAR NOBILE FRATRUM[13]]

[Sidenote: The Indians desert Burgoyne]

But in whatever way poor Jenny may have come to her death, there can be

no doubt as to the mischief which it swiftly wrought for the invading

army. In the first place, it led to the desertion of all the Indian

allies. Burgoyne was a man of quick and tender sympathy, and the fate of

this sweet young lady shocked him as it shocked the American people. He

would have had the Panther promptly hanged, but that his guilt was not

clearly proved, and many of the officers argued that the execution of a

famous and popular sachem would enrage all the other Indians, and might

endanger the lives of many of the soldiers. The Panther's life was

accordingly spared, but Burgoyne made it a rule that henceforth no party

of Indians should be allowed to go marauding save under the lead of some

British officer, who might watch and restrain them. When this rule was

put in force, the tawny savages grunted and growled for two or three

days, and then, with hoarse yells and hoots, all the five hundred broke

loose from the camp, and scampered off to the Adirondack wilderness.

From a military point of view, the loss was small, save in so far as it

deprived the army of valuable scouts and guides. But the thirst for

vengeance which was aroused among the yeomanry of northern New York, of

Vermont, and of western Massachusetts, was a much more serious matter.

The lamentable story was told at every village fireside, and no detail

of pathos or of horror was forgotten. The name of Jenny McCrea became a

watchword, and a fortnight had not passed before General Lincoln had

gathered on the British flank an army of stout and resolute farmers,

inflamed with such wrath as had not filled their bosoms since the day

when all New England had rushed to besiege the enemy in Boston.

[Sidenote: Importance of Bennington; Burgoyne sends a German force

against it]

Such a force of untrained yeomanry is of little use in prolonged

warfare, but on important occasions it is sometimes capable of dealing

heavy blows. We have seen what it could do on the memorable day of

Lexington. It was now about to strike, at a critical moment, with still

more deadly effect. Burgoyne's advance, laborious as it had been for the

last three weeks, was now stopped for want of horses to drag the cannon

and carry the provision bags; and the army, moreover, was already

suffering from hunger. The little village of Bennington, at the foot of

the Green Mountains, had been selected by the New England militia as a

centre of supplies. Many hundred horses had been collected there, with

ample stores of food and ammunition. To capture this village would give

Burgoyne the warlike material he wanted, while at the same time it would

paralyze the movements of Lincoln, and perhaps dispel the ominous cloud

that was gathering over the rear of the British army. Accordingly, on

the 13th of August, a strong detachment of 500 of Riedesel's men, with

100 newly arrived Indians and a couple of cannon, was sent out to seize

the stores at Bennington. Lieutenant-Colonel Baum commanded the

expedition, and he was accompanied by Major Skene, an American loyalist,

who assured Burgoyne on his honour that the Green Mountains were

swarming with devoted subjects of King George, who would flock by

hundreds to his standard as soon as it should be set up among them. That

these loyal recruits might be organized as quickly as possible, Burgoyne

sent along with the expedition a skeleton regiment of loyalists, all

duly officered, into the ranks of which they might be mustered without

delay. The loyal recruits, however, turned out to be the phantom of a

distempered imagination: not one of them appeared in the flesh. On the

contrary, the demeanour of the people was so threatening that Baum

became convinced that hard work was before him, and next day he sent

back for reinforcements. Lieutenant-Colonel Breymann was accordingly

sent to support him, with another body of 500 Germans and two

field-pieces.

[Sidenote: Stark prepares to receive the Germans]

Meanwhile Colonel Stark was preparing a warm reception for the invaders.

We have already seen John Stark, a gallant veteran of the Seven Years'

War, serving with distinction at Bunker Hill and at Trenton and

Princeton. He was considered one of the ablest officers in the army; but

he had lately gone home in disgust, for, like Arnold, had been passed

over by Congress in the list of promotions. Tired of sulking in his

tent, no sooner did this rustic Achilles hear of the invaders' presence

in New England than he forthwith sprang to arms, and in the twinkling of

an eye 800 stout yeomen were marching under his orders. He refused to

take instructions from any superior officer, but declared that he was

acting under the sovereignty of New Hampshire alone, and would proceed

upon his own responsibility in defending the common cause. At the same

time he sent word to General Lincoln, at Manchester in the Green

Mountains, asking him to lend him the services of Colonel Seth Warner,

with the gallant regiment which had checked the advance of Fraser at

Hubbardton. Lincoln sent the reinforcement without delay, and after

marching all night in a drenching rain, the men reached Bennington in

the morning, wet to the skin. Telling them to follow him as soon as they

should have dried and rested themselves, Stark pushed on with his main

body, and found the enemy about six miles distant. On meeting this large

force, Baum hastily took up a strong position on some rising ground

behind a small stream, everywhere fordable, known as the Walloomsac

river. All day long the rain fell in torrents, and while the Germans

began to throw up intrenchments, Stark laid his plans for storming

their position on the morrow. During the night a company of Berkshire

militia arrived, and with them the excellent Mr. Allen, the warlike

parson of Pittsfield, who went up to Stark and said, "Colonel, our

Berkshire people have been often called out to no purpose, and if you

don't let them fight now they will never turn out again." "Well," said

Stark, "would you have us turn out now, while it is pitch dark and

raining buckets?" "No, not just this minute," replied the minister.

"Then," said the doughty Stark, "as soon as the Lord shall once more

send us sunshine, if I don't give you fighting enough, I'll never ask

you to come out again!"

[Sidenote: Battle of Bennington, Aug. 16, 1777]

[Sidenote: The invading force annihilated]

Next morning the sun rose bright and clear, and a steam came up from the

sodden fields. It was a true dog-day, sultry and scorching. The forenoon

was taken up in preparing the attack, while Baum waited in his strong

position. The New Englanders outnumbered the Germans two to one, but

they were a militia, unfurnished with bayonets or cannon, while Baum's

soldiers were all regulars, picked from the bravest of the troops which

Ferdinand of Brunswick had led to victory at Creveld and Minden. But the

worthy German commander, in this strange country, was no match for the

astute Yankee on his own ground. Stealthily and leisurely, during the

whole forenoon, the New England farmers marched around into Baum's rear.

They did not march in military array, but in little squads, half a dozen

at a time, dressed in their rustic blue frocks. There was nothing in

their appearance which to a European veteran like Baum could seem at all

soldier-like, and he thought that here at last were those blessed

Tories, whom he had been taught to look out for, coming to place

themselves behind him for protection. Early in the afternoon he was

cruelly undeceived. For while 500 of these innocent creatures opened

upon him a deadly fire in the rear and on both flanks, Stark, with 500

more, charged across the shallow stream and assailed him in front. The

Indians instantly broke and fled screeching to the woods, while yet

there was time for escape. The Germans stood their ground, and fought

desperately; but thus attacked on all sides at once, they were soon

thrown into disorder, and after a two hours' struggle, in which Baum was

mortally wounded, they were all captured. At this moment, as the New

England men began to scatter to the plunder of the German camp, the

relieving force of Breymann came upon the scene; and the fortunes of the

day might have been changed, had not Warner also arrived with his 150

fresh men in excellent order. A furious charge was made upon Breymann,

who gave way, and retreated slowly from hill to hill, while parties of

Americans kept pushing on to his rear to cut him off. By eight in the

evening, when it had grown too dark to aim a gun, this second German

force was entirely dispersed or captured. Breymann, with a mere

corporal's guard of sixty or seventy men, escaped under cover of

darkness, and reached the British camp in safety. Of the whole German

force of 1,000 men, 207 had been killed and wounded, and more than 700

had been captured. Among the spoils of victory were 1,000 stand of arms,

1,000 dragoon swords, and four field-pieces. Of the Americans 14 were

killed and 42 wounded.

[Illustration: CANNON CAPTURED AT BENNINGTON]

[Sidenote: Effect of the news; Burgoyne's enemies multiply]

The news of this brilliant victory spread joy and hope throughout the

land. Insubordination which had been crowned with such splendid success

could not but be overlooked, and the gallant Stark was at once taken

back into the army, and made a brigadier-general. Not least among the

grounds of exultation was the fact that an army of yeomanry had not

merely defeated, but annihilated, an army of the Brunswick regulars,

with whose European reputation for bravery and discipline every man in

the country was familiar. The bolder spirits began to ask the question

why that which had been done to Baum and Breymann might not be done to

Burgoyne's whole army; and in the excitement of this rising hope,

reinforcements began to pour in faster and faster, both to Schuyler at

Stillwater and to Lincoln at Manchester. On the other hand, Burgoyne at

Fort Edward was fast losing heart, as dangers thickened around him. So

far from securing his supplies of horses, wagons, and food by this

stroke at Bennington, he had simply lost one seventh part of his

available army, and he was now clearly in need of reinforcements as well

as supplies. But no word had yet come from Sir William Howe, and the

news from St. Leger was anything but encouraging. It is now time for us

to turn westward and follow the wild fortunes of the second invading

column.

* * * * *

[Illustration: COLONEL BARRY ST. LEGER]

[Sidenote: Advance of St. Leger upon Fort Stanwix]

[Sidenote: Herkimer marches against him]

[Sidenote: Herkimer's plan]

About the middle of July, St. Leger had landed at Oswego, where he was

joined by Sir John Johnson with his famous Tory regiment known as the

Royal Greens, and Colonel John Butler with his company of Tory rangers.

Great efforts had been made by Johnson to secure the aid of the Iroquois

tribes, but only with partial success. For once the Long House was

fairly divided against itself, and the result of the present campaign

did not redound to its future prosperity. The Mohawks, under their great

chief Thayendanegea, better known as Joseph Brant, entered heartily into

the British cause, and they were followed, though with less alacrity, by

the Cayugas and Senecas; but the central tribe, the Onondagas, remained

neutral. Under the influence of the missionary, Samuel Kirkland, the

Oneidas and Tuscaroras actively aided the Americans, though they did not

take the field. After duly arranging his motley force, which amounted to

about 1,700 men, St. Leger advanced very cautiously through the woods,

and sat down before Fort Stanwix on the 3d of August. This stronghold,

which had been built in 1758, on the watershed between the Hudson and

Lake Ontario, commanded the main line of traffic between New York and

Upper Canada. The place was then on the very outskirts of civilization,

and under the powerful influence of Johnson the Tory element was

stronger here than in any other part of the state. Even here, however,

the strength of the patriot party turned out to be much greater than had

been supposed, and at the approach of the enemy the people began to rise

in arms. In this part of New York there were many Germans, whose

ancestors had come over to America in consequence of the devastation of

the Palatinate by Louis XIV.; and among these there was one stout

patriot whose name shines conspicuously in the picturesque annals of the

Revolution. General Nicholas Herkimer, commander of the militia of Tryon

County, a veteran over sixty years of age, no sooner heard of St.

Leger's approach than he started out to the rescue of Fort Stanwix; and

by the 5th of August he had reached Oriskany, about eight miles distant,

at the head of 800 men. The garrison of the fort, 600 in number, under

Colonel Peter Gansevoort, had already laughed to scorn St. Leger's

summons to surrender, when, on the morning of the 6th, they heard a

distant firing to the eastward, which they could not account for. The

mystery was explained when three friendly messengers floundered through

a dangerous swamp into the fort, and told them of Herkimer's approach

and of his purpose. The plan was to overwhelm St. Leger by a concerted

attack in front and rear. The garrison was to make a furious sortie,

while Herkimer, advancing through the forest, was to fall suddenly upon

the enemy from behind; and thus it was hoped that his army might be

crushed or captured at a single blow. To ensure completeness of

coöperation, Colonel Gansevoort was to fire three guns immediately upon

receiving the message, and upon hearing this signal Herkimer would begin

his march from Oriskany. Gansevoort would then make such demonstrations

as to keep the whole attention of the enemy concentrated upon the fort,

and thus guard Herkimer against a surprise by the way, until, after the

proper interval of time, the garrison should sally forth in full force.

[Illustration: Plan of Fort Stanwix]

[Portrait: Peter Gansevoort]

[Sidenote: Failure of the plan]

In this bold scheme everything depended upon absolute coördination in

time. Herkimer had dispatched his messengers so early on the evening of

the 5th that they ought to have reached the fort by three o'clock the

next morning, and at about that time he began listening for the

signal-guns. But through some unexplained delay it was nearly eleven in

the forenoon when the messengers reached the fort, as just described.

Meanwhile, as hour after hour passed by, and no signal-guns were heard

by Herkimer's men, they grew impatient, and insisted upon going ahead,

without regard to the preconcerted plan. Much unseemly wrangling ensued,

in which Herkimer was called a coward and accused of being a Tory at

heart, until, stung by these taunts, the brave old man at length gave

way, and at about nine o'clock the forward march was resumed. At this

time his tardy messengers still lacked two hours of reaching the fort,

but St. Leger's Indian scouts had already discovered and reported the

approach of the American force, and a strong detachment of Johnson's

Greens under Major Watts, together with Brant and his Mohawks, had been

sent out to intercept them.

[Sidenote: Thayendanegea prepares an ambuscade]

[Sidenote: Battle of Oriskany, Aug. 6, 1777]

About two miles west of Oriskany the road was crossed by a deep

semicircular ravine, concave toward the east. The bottom of this ravine

was a swamp, across which the road was carried by a causeway of logs,

and the steep banks on either side were thickly covered with trees and

underbrush. The practised eye of Thayendanegea at once perceived the

rare advantage of such a position, and an ambuscade was soon prepared

with a skill as deadly as that which once had wrecked the proud army of

Braddock. But this time it was a meeting of Greek with Greek, and the

wiles of the savage chief were foiled by a desperate valour which

nothing could overcome. By ten o'clock the main body of Herkimer's army

had descended into the ravine, followed by the wagons, while the

rear-guard was still on the rising ground behind. At this moment they

were greeted by a murderous volley from either side, while Johnson's

Greens came charging down upon them in front, and the Indians, with

frightful yells, swarmed in behind and cut off the rear-guard, which was

thus obliged to retreat to save itself. For a moment the main body was

thrown into confusion, but it soon rallied and formed itself in a

circle, which neither bayonet charges nor musket fire could break or

penetrate. The scene which ensued was one of the most infernal that the

history of savage warfare has ever witnessed. The dark ravine was filled

with a mass of fifteen hundred human beings, screaming and cursing,

slipping in the mire, pushing and struggling, seizing each other's

throats, stabbing, shooting, and dashing out brains. Bodies of

neighbours were afterwards found lying in the bog, where they had gone

down in a death-grapple, their cold hands still grasping the knives

plunged in each other's hearts.

[Illustration: BAS-RELIEF ON THE HERKIMER MONUMENT AT ORISKANY]

[Sidenote: Retreat of the Tories]

Early in the fight a musket-ball slew Herkimer's horse, and shattered

his own leg just below the knee; but the old hero, nothing daunted, and

bating nothing of his coolness in the midst of the horrid struggle, had

the saddle taken from his dead horse and placed at the foot of a great

beech-tree where, taking his seat and lighting his pipe, he continued

shouting his orders in a stentorian voice and directing the progress of

the battle. Nature presently enhanced the lurid horror of the scene. The

heat of the August morning had been intolerable, and black

thunder-clouds, overhanging the deep ravine at the beginning of the

action, had enveloped it in a darkness like that of night. Now the rain

came pouring in torrents, while gusts of wind howled through the

treetops, and sheets of lightning flashed in quick succession, with a

continuous roar of thunder that drowned the noise of the fray. The wet

rifles could no longer be fired, but hatchet, knife, and bayonet

carried on the work of butchery, until, after more than five hundred men

had been killed or wounded, the Indians gave way and fled in all

directions, and the Tory soldiers, disconcerted, began to retreat up the

western road, while Herkimer's little army, remaining in possession of

the hard-won field, felt itself too weak to pursue them.

[Sidenote: Retreat of Herkimer]

[Sidenote: Colonel Willett's sortie]

[Sidenote: First hoisting of the stars and stripes]

At this moment, as the storm cleared away and long rays of sunshine

began flickering through the wet leaves, the sound of the three

signal-guns came booming through the air, and presently a sharp

crackling of musketry was heard from the direction of Fort Stanwix.

Startled by this ominous sound, the Tories made all possible haste to

join their own army, while Herkimer's men, bearing their wounded on

litters of green boughs, returned in sad procession to Oriskany. With

their commander helpless and more than one third of their number slain

or disabled, they were in no condition to engage in a fresh conflict,

and unwillingly confessed that the garrison of Fort Stanwix must be left

to do its part of the work alone. Upon the arrival of the messengers,

Colonel Gansevoort had at once taken in the whole situation. He

understood the mysterious firing in the forest, saw that Herkimer must

have been prematurely attacked, and ordered his sortie instantly, to

serve as a diversion. The sortie was a brilliant success. Sir John

Johnson, with his Tories and Indians, was completely routed and driven

across the river. Colonel Marinus Willett took possession of his camp,

and held it while seven wagons were three times loaded with spoil and

sent to be unloaded in the fort. Among all this spoil, together with

abundance of food and drink, blankets and clothes, tools and ammunition,

the victors captured five British standards, and all Johnson's papers,

maps, and memoranda, containing full instructions for the projected

campaign. After this useful exploit, Colonel Willett returned to the

fort and hoisted the captured British standards, while over them he

raised an uncouth flag, intended to represent the American stars and

stripes, which Congress had adopted in June as the national banner. This

rude flag, hastily extemporized out of a white shirt, an old blue

jacket, and some strips of red cloth from the petticoat of a soldier's

wife, was the first American flag with stars and stripes that was ever

hoisted, and it was first flung to the breeze on the memorable day of

Oriskany, August 6, 1777.

[Portrait: JOSEPH BRANT: THAYENDANEGEA]

[Sidenote: Death of Herkimer]

Of all the battles of the Revolution, this was perhaps the most

obstinate and murderous. Each side seems to have lost not less than one

third of its whole number; and of those lost, nearly all were killed, as

it was largely a hand-to-hand struggle, like the battles of ancient

times, and no quarter was given on either side. The number of surviving

wounded, who were carried back to Oriskany, does not seem to have

exceeded forty. Among these was the indomitable Herkimer, whose

shattered leg was so unskilfully treated that he died a few days later,

sitting in bed propped by pillows, calmly smoking his Dutch pipe and

reading his Bible at the thirty-eighth Psalm.

[Portrait: Marinus Willett]

For some little time no one could tell exactly how the results of this

fierce and disorderly day were to be regarded. Both sides claimed a

victory, and St. Leger vainly tried to scare the garrison by the story

that their comrades had been destroyed in the forest. But in its effects

upon the campaign, Oriskany was for the Americans a success, though an

incomplete one. St. Leger was not crushed, but he was badly crippled.

The sacking of Johnson's camp injured his prestige in the neighbourhood,

and the Indian allies, who had lost more than a hundred of their best

warriors on that fatal morning, grew daily more sullen and refractory,

until their strange behaviour came to be a fresh source of anxiety to

the British commander. While he was pushing on the siege as well as he

could, a force of 1,200 troops, under Arnold, was marching up the Mohawk

valley to complete his discomfiture.

[Illustration: HERKIMER'S HOUSE AT LITTLE FALLS]

[Portrait: John Johnson]

[Sidenote: Arnold arrives at Schuyler's camp]

[Sidenote: and volunteers to relieve Fort Stanwix]

[Sidenote: Yan Yost Cuyler]

[Sidenote: Flight of St. Leger, Aug. 22]

As soon as he had heard the news of the fall of Ticonderoga, Washington

had dispatched Arnold to render such assistance as he could to the

northern army, and Arnold had accordingly arrived at Schuyler's

headquarters about three weeks ago. Before leaving Philadelphia, he had

appealed to Congress to restore him to his former rank relatively to the

five junior officers who had been promoted over him, and he had just

learned that Congress had refused the request. At this moment, Colonel

Willett and another officer, after a perilous journey through the

wilderness, arrived at Schuyler's headquarters, and bringing the news of

Oriskany, begged that a force might be sent to raise the siege of Fort

Stanwix. Schuyler understood the importance of rescuing the stronghold

and its brave garrison, and called a council of war; but he was bitterly

opposed by his officers, one of whom presently said to another, in an

audible whisper, "He only wants to weaken the army!" At this vile

insinuation, the indignant general set his teeth so hard as to bite

through the stem of the pipe he was smoking, which fell on the floor and

was smashed. "Enough!" he cried. "I assume the whole responsibility.

Where is the brigadier who will go?" The brigadiers all sat in sullen

silence; but Arnold, who had been brooding over his private grievances,

suddenly jumped up. "Here!" said he. "Washington sent me here to make

myself useful: I will go." The commander gratefully seized him by the

hand, and the drum beat for volunteers. Arnold's unpopularity in New

England was mainly with the politicians. It did not extend to the

common soldiers, who admired his impulsive bravery and had unbounded

faith in his resources as a leader. Accordingly, 1,200 Massachusetts men

were easily enlisted in the course of the next forenoon, and the

expedition started up the Mohawk valley. Arnold pushed on with

characteristic energy, but the natural difficulties of the road were

such that after a week of hard work he had only reached the German

Flats, where he was still more than twenty miles from Fort Stanwix.

Believing that no time should be lost, and that everything should be

done to encourage the garrison and dishearten the enemy, he had recourse

to a stratagem, which succeeded beyond his utmost anticipation. A party

of Tory spies had just been arrested in the neighbourhood, and among

them was a certain Yan Yost Cuyler, a queer, half-witted fellow, not

devoid of cunning, whom the Indians regarded with that mysterious awe

with which fools and lunatics are wont to inspire them, as creatures

possessed with a devil. Yan Yost was summarily condemned to death, and

his brother and gypsy-like mother, in wild alarm, hastened to the camp,

to plead for his life. Arnold for a while was inexorable, but presently

offered to pardon the culprit on condition that he should go and spread

a panic in the camp of St. Leger. Yan Yost joyfully consented, and

started off forthwith, while his brother was detained as a hostage, to

be hanged in case of his failure. To make the matter still surer, some

friendly Oneidas were sent along to keep an eye upon him and act in

concert with him. Next day, St. Leger's scouts, as they stole through

the forest, began to hear rumours that Burgoyne had been totally

defeated, and that a great American army was coming up the valley of the

Mohawk. They carried back these rumours to the camp, and toward evening,

while officers and soldiers were standing about in anxious consultation,

Yan Yost came running in, with a dozen bullet-holes in his coat and

terror in his face, and said that he had barely escaped with his life

from the resistless American host which was close at hand. As many knew

him for a Tory, his tale found ready belief, and when interrogated as to

the numbers of the advancing host he gave a warning frown, and pointed

significantly to the countless leaves that fluttered on the branches

overhead. Nothing more was needed to complete the panic. It was in vain

that Johnson and St. Leger exhorted and threatened the Indian allies.

Already disaffected, they now began to desert by scores, while some,

breaking open the camp chests, drank rum till they were drunk, and began

to assault the soldiers. All night long the camp was a perfect

Pandemonium. The riot extended to the Tories, and by noon of the next

day St. Leger took to flight and his whole army was dispersed. All the

tents, artillery, and stores fell into the hands of the Americans. The

garrison, sallying forth, pursued St. Leger for a while, but the

faithless Indians, enjoying his discomfiture, and willing to curry

favour with the stronger party, kept up the chase nearly all the way to

Oswego; laying ambushes every night, and diligently murdering the

stragglers, until hardly a remnant of an army was left to embark with

its crestfallen leader for Montreal.

[Sidenote: Burgoyne's dangerous situation]

The news of this catastrophe reached Burgoyne before he had had time to

recover from the news of the disaster at Bennington. Burgoyne's

situation was now becoming critical. Lincoln, with a strong force of

militia, was hovering in his rear, while the main army before him was

gaining in numbers day by day. Putnam had just sent up reinforcements

from the Highlands; Washington had sent Morgan with 500 sharpshooters;

and Arnold was hurrying back from Fort Stanwix. Not a word had come from

Sir William Howe, and it daily grew more difficult to get provisions.

[Sidenote: Schuyler superseded by Gates, Aug. 2.]

Just at this time, when everything was in readiness for the final

catastrophe, General Gates arrived from Philadelphia, to take command of

the northern army, and reap the glory earned by other men. On the first

day of August, before the first alarm occasioned by Burgoyne's advance

had subsided, Congress had yielded to the pressure of Schuyler's

enemies, and removed him from his command; and on the following day

Gates was appointed to take his place. Congress was led to take this

step through the belief that the personal hatred felt toward Schuyler by

many of the New England people would prevent the enlisting of militia to

support him. The events of the next fortnight showed that in this fear

Congress was quite mistaken. There can now be no doubt that the

appointment of the incompetent Gates was a serious blunder, which might

have ruined the campaign, and did in the end occasion much trouble, both

for Congress and for Washington. Schuyler received the unwelcome news

with the noble unselfishness which always characterized him. At no time

did he show more zeal and diligence than during his last week of

command; and on turning over the army to General Gates he cordially

offered his aid, whether by counsel or action, in whatever capacity his

successor might see fit to suggest. But so far from accepting this

offer, Gates treated him with contumely, and would not even invite him

to attend his first council of war. Such silly behaviour called forth

sharp criticisms from discerning people. "The new commander-in-chief of

the northern department," said Gouverneur Morris, "may, if he please,

neglect to ask or disdain to receive advice; but those who know him

will, I am sure, be convinced that he needs it."

[Sidenote: Position of the two armies, Aug. 19-Sept. 12]

When Gates thus took command of the northern army, it was stationed

along the western bank of the Hudson, from Stillwater down to Halfmoon,

at the mouth of the Mohawk, while Burgoyne's troops were encamped along

the eastern bank, some thirty miles higher up, from Fort Edward down to

the Battenkill. For the next three weeks no movements were made on

either side; and we must now leave the two armies confronting each other

in these two positions, while we turn our attention southward, and see

what Sir William Howe was doing, and how it happened that Burgoyne had

as yet heard nothing from him.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] I leave this as I wrote it in June, 1883. Since then another

version of the facts has been suggested by W. L. Stone in

Appleton's _Cyclopædia of American Biography_. In this

version, Mr. Jones sends a party of Indians under the

half-breed Duluth to escort Miss McCrea to the camp, where

they are to be married by Mr. Brudenell, the chaplain. It is

to be quite a fine little wedding, and the Baroness Riedesel

and Lady Harriet Ackland are to be among the spectators.

Before Duluth reaches Mrs. McNeil's house, the Wyandot Panther

(here known by the name of a different beast, Le Loup) with

his party attacks the house and carries off the two ladies.

The Panther's party meets Duluth's near the spring. Duluth

insists upon taking Jenny with him, and high words ensue

between him and the Panther, until the latter, in a towering

rage, draws his pistol and shoots the girl. This version, if

correct, goes some way toward reconciling the legend with the

observed facts.

[13] This contemporary British caricature represents the new allies,

"Noble Pair of Brothers," George III. and an Indian chief,

seated together at their cannibal banquet. It expresses the

lively disgust with which the employment of Indians was

regarded in England.