best not to attempt anything more than skirmishing. Our light parties
appeared in the woods on every side of the enemy, and picked off the men
so fast that the Indians became disheartened, and began to desert Baum.
The rain, which prevented our troops from attacking the enemy, enabled
them to complete their entrenchments, and send to General Burgoyne for
reinforcements; but on the morning of the 16th of August, we found that
General Stark and a council of war had agreed upon a plan of attack, and
intended to execute it that day. I don't think there was a man among our
troops who was not anxious for a fight. Our skirmishes had put us in the
humour for it. I can't exactly give you an idea of the position of the
enemy, and of the real amount of skill General Stark displayed in his
plan of attack. But I'll try to do the best I can. The Germans were
posted on a rising ground near a bend in Wallomsac Creek, which is a
branch of the Hoosic River. The ground on both sides of the creek is
rolling, and the position of the Germans was on the highest of the small
hills. Peter's corps of Tories were entrenched on the other side of the
creek, nearly in front of the German battery, and on lower ground.
During the night of the 15th, Colonel Symonds with about one hundred
Berkshire militia, arrived in camp. Parson Allen, who, you may have
heard, was such a zealous whig, was with the Berkshire men, and he
wanted to fight right off. But General Stark told him if the next day
was clear, there would be fighting enough. Well, when the morning of the
16th of August came; it was clear and bright. Both armies seemed to know
that day was to decide between them. General Stark had given his orders
to all the colonels of his regiments. Colonel Nichols, with our corps of
about two hundred men, marched up the little creek just above the
bridge, to attack the rear of the enemy's left; while Colonel Herrick,
with three hundred men, marched to attack the rear of the right, with
orders to join our party before the assault was made. Colonels Hubbard
and Stickney were ordered to march down the Wallomsac, with three
hundred men, near the Tories, so as to turn Baum's attention to that
point. We started about noon, and marched through the thick woods and up
from the valley towards the enemy's entrenchments. Our march was rapid
and silent, and the enemy didn't see us until we were near. We gave the
first volley, and rushed upon them. I saw through the smoke, Colonel
Herrick was coming up. We had the Indians between us, and you should
have heard them yell, and whoop, and ring their cow-bells, but they
wouldn't stand; they fled through our detachments and left the Hessians
to shift for themselves. Soon after we commenced the attack, General
Stark made that short address you have heard so much about. Josiah
Wemyss, one of my old friends, was near the General when he spoke. He
told me Stark raised himself in his stirrups, and said: 'See there, men!
there are the red-coats; before night they are ours, or Molly Stark will
he a widow! Forward!' and they did forward and rush upon the Tories with
such force that they drove 'em across the stream, upon the Germans, who
were then forced from their breastworks on the heights. Then the battle
became general. Such a tremendous fire I never saw before, and never
expect to see again. Colonel Baum and his dragoons fought like brave
men, and for a long time could not be broken. We attacked them on one
side, and Stark on the other, but they stood their ground, and when
their powder gave out, Colonel Baum led them to the charge with the
sword. But it couldn't last: our men were fighting like mad, and our
firelocks brought down the enemy at a tremendous rate. Many of us had no
bagonets--I among them, yet we marched up to the Germans just the same
as if we had the best arms. At last, the Germans gave way and fled,
leaving their artillery and baggage on the field. Our men didn't pursue.
You see, General Stark, in order to give the men every inducement to do
their best on the field, promised them all the plunder that could be
taken from the enemy; and as the Germans fled, we all scattered to seize
on what they had left. I had the good luck to get a sword and one of the
heavy hats which the dragoons wore. I didn't care much about the value
of the things in regard to the money they'd bring, but I thought they'd
be somewhat to keep in the family, and make them remember that battle.
While I was looking for more things, I caught sight of a man riding at a
furious rate towards General Stark. He called out, 'Rally! rally! more
Germans! rally!' and sure enough, we saw a large body of the enemy
coming out of the woods, in good order. It was the reinforcement Baum
had sent for. General Stark had collected a small body of men, when I
hurried to join a few of our regiment that Colonel Nichols had rallied.
I thought that our victory was about to be snatched from us; but just
then Colonel Warner's regiment arrived from Manchester, fresh and
well-armed. They attacked the Germans at once, while Stark, with about
two hundred of us, pushed forward to aid them. Then began an obstinate
struggle, not like the other fight with the Germans and Tories; but a
running fight on the hills and plains, just the kind of skrimmage in
which a hundred Green Mountain Boys were worth double their number of
redcoats. About sunset, the greater part of our men were engaged, and
the enemy was beaten in every part of the field. We drove them from the
hills down towards Van Shaick's, killing, wounding, and taking prisoners
all the time. At Van Shaick's mill they made their last stand. They had
placed a small party of Tories in the building, and a party of Germans
rallied in front of it. But it was no use, the Germans were driven away
and the men in the house forced to surrender. Our men pursued the enemy
to the Hoosick, and captured the greater part of 'em. I really believe,
if night hadn't come on, we would have taken every man of 'em. But
General Stark ordered the men to return, for fear they would fire upon
each other in the gloom. Before I came back, however, I caught a Tory
lurking near the edge of the woods. Now I hated Tories worse than the
Britishers or Germans, and I had a strong notion to shoot him, and I
told him so; but he begged hard for his life, and said he never intended
to take up arms against his countrymen again: I took him back to our
troops and put him with the other prisoners."
"What was the loss of the enemy that day?" enquired Pitts.
"I heard since, that it was nine hundred and thirty-four men, including
killed, wounded, and prisoners," replied Ransom. "I recollect we buried
two hundred and seven of them. Our own loss was one hundred killed, and
about the same number wounded. Besides the prisoners, we took four
pieces of brass cannon, more than two hundred and fifty swords, several
hundred muskets, several brass drums, and four ammunition wagons. So you
see, we had plenty of plunder."
"I suppose the men were not allowed to take any thing but the swords and
muskets," said Kinnison.
"Yes, the baggage fell to us," said Ransom, "and all the fixins of the
German camp; the cannon, drums, wagons and standards were not taken
away."
"I guess that was one of the completest victories ever gained," said
Kinnison. "Only to think of militia flogging regulars in that style.
What could the enemy expect from our regulars?"
"There's as much credit due to General Stark for that victory, as was
ever given to him or as we could give to a general," said Ransom. "If he
had not taken command of the troops, there would have been very little
resistance to Baum's advance. The plan of attack was formed with great
skill, and the general went into the battle with the determination to
win it or leave his body on the field. Such a man as John Stark would
make soldiers out of cowards."
Mr. Hand here proposed three cheers for General Stark and his Green
Mountain Boys, and they were given with a hearty will. One of the young
men then announced that he had a song, which had been sung at an
anniversary of the battle of Bennington, and which he would now sing,
if the company wished it. Of course, the company did wish it, and the
young gentleman sang the following words:--
Remember the glories of patriots brave,
Though the days of the heroes are o'er;
Long lost to their country and cold in their grave,
They return to their kindred no more,
The stars of the field, which in victory pour'd
Their beams on the battle are set,
But enough of their glory remains on each sword
To light us to victory yet.
Walloomsack! when nature embellished the tint
Of thy fields and mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend a tyrant should print
The footsteps of slavery there!
No! Freedom, whose smiles we shall never resign,
Told those who invaded our plains,
That 't is sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,
Than to sleep for a moment in chains.
Forget not the chieftain of Hampshire, who stood
In the day of distress by our side;
Nor the heroes who nourished the fields with their blood,
Nor the rights they secured as they died.
The sun that now blesses our eyes with his light,
Saw the martyrs of liberty slain;
O, let him not blush when he leaves us to-night,
To find that they fell there in vain!
Brown and Hanson had prepared their instruments during the singing, and
immediately followed it with Washington's march, to which knives and
forks kept time.
[Illustration: MR. BLEEKER AND HIS SON.]
"An incident occurred just after the battle of Bennington, which showed
the spirit of the people of the neighbourhood," said Ransom, when the
musicians had concluded. "Old Zedekiah Bleeker, who lived in Bennington,
sent five bold sons to join our little army, just before the battle. One
of them--Sam. Bleeker--was killed; and one of the old man's neighbours
came to tell him about it--'Mr. Bleeker,' said the neighbour, 'your son
has been unfortunate.' 'What!' said the old man, 'has he misbehaved? Did
he desert his post or shrink from the charge?' 'Worse than that,'
replied the neighbour; 'he was slain, but he was fighting nobly.' 'Then
I am satisfied,' said the old man; 'bring him to me.' Sam's body was
brought home. The old man wiped the blood from the wound, and while a
tear stood in his eye, said it was the happiest day of his life, to know
that he had five sons fighting for freedom and one slain for the same
cause. There was a spirit of patriotism for you."
"I can tell you of an instance quite as good," said old John Warner.
"Perhaps it is better; for in this instance, a woman displayed the like
spirit. A good lady in 1775, lived on the sea-board, about a day's march
from Boston, where the British army then was. By some unaccountable
accident, a rumour was spread, in town and country, in and about there,
that the _Regulars_ were on a full march for the place, and would
probably arrive in three hours at farthest. This was after the battle of
Lexington, and all, as might be well supposed, was in sad
confusion--some were boiling with rage and full of fight, some with
fear and confusion, some hiding their treasures, and others flying for
life. In this wild moment, when most people in some way or other, were
frightened from their propriety, our heroine, who had two sons, one
about nineteen years of age, and the other about sixteen, was seen
preparing them to discharge their duty. The eldest she was able to equip
in fine style--she took her husband's fowling-piece, 'made for duck or
plover,' (the good man being absent on a coasting voyage to Virginia)
and with it the powder-horn and shot-bag; but the lad thinking the duck
and goose shot not quite the size to kill regulars, his mother took a
chisel, cut up her pewter spoons, and hammered them into slugs, and put
them into his bag, and he set off in great earnest, but thought he would
call one moment and see the parson, who said, well done, my brave
boy--God preserve you--and on he went in the way of his duty. The
youngest was importunate for his equipments, but his mother could find
nothing to arm him with but an old rusty sword; the boy seemed rather
unwilling to risk himself with this alone, but lingered in the street,
in a state of hesitation, when his mother thus upbraided him. 'You John
Haines, what will your father say if he hears that a child of his is
afraid to meet the British: go along; beg or borrow a gun, or you will
find one, child--some coward, I dare say, will be running away, then
take his gun and march forward, and if you come back and I hear you have
not behaved like a man, I shall carry the blush of shame on my face to
the grave.' She then shut the door, wiped the tear from her eye, and
waited the issue; the boy joined the march. Such a woman could not have
cowards for her sons."
"I heard of many such instances," said Kinnison; "such a spirit was
common at the time, not only in New England, but throughout the States.
Look at the noble conduct of some of the people of New Jersey, during
Washington's retreat, and afterwards. The women did all they could to
lessen the sufferings of the men, and many an old man wanted to join the
army, knowing how much he would have to endure."
THE CAPTURE OF GENERAL SULLIVAN.
"The women were all right during the Revolution," said Pitts. "I can
tell you of an instance in which a woman displayed both patriotism and
wisdom, though it may be rather a long story."
"Oh! the longer the better," said Hand.
"Very well," said Pitts, "I'll tell you about it, as near as I can
recollect. One night, while the British army was encamped on Long
Island, a party of the redcoats, galled by the death of Major Andre,
formed a plan to cross over to the Connecticut side and capture General
Sullivan, who commanded some of the Americans stationed there, and hold
him in revenge for Andre's death.
"It was a hazardous project, but four bold men pledged themselves to
undertake it. John Hartwell, a brave young officer was selected as their
leader.
"Soon as arranged they proceeded to a boat, and made the best progress
they could across the river; on gaining the shore, they made for a
small clump of underwood, where they lay concealed, until they noted
what direction it was best to take.
"Here too may be seen the tents where repose the brave men who have
sworn to protect their homes and country, or die in its defence against
the invaders, who seek to control their free rights. Near may be seen a
spacious farm house, the abode of General Sullivan--the brave soldier
and faithful friend--who now slept, unconscious of danger. Through some
neglect, the sentinels on duty had wandered from their posts, never
dreaming it possible that any one would risk a landing, or could pass
the tents unobserved. By a circuitous route they gained the house, and
here the faithful watch-dog gave the alarm; a blow soon silenced him;
and ascending the piazza, Captain Hartwell opened the casement, and
followed by his men, stepped lightly into the sitting-room of the
family.
"They now struck a light, and with caution proceeded on their
search--they passed through several apartments, while, strange to
relate, the inmates slept on, unconscious of this deed of darkness.
"They at length reached the General's room--two of the men remained
outside, while Captain Hartwell, with another officer, entered, and
stood in silence, musing on the scene before them.
"A night-lamp burnt in the room, dimly revealing the face of the
sleepers--whose unprotected situation could not but awake a feeling of
pity even in their callous hearts.
"'Jack,' whispered his companion, 'by heaven I wish this part of the
business had been entrusted to some one else--I could meet this man face
to face, life for life, in the field of battle--but this savors too much
of cowardice.'
"'Hold your craven tongue, Low,' answered Captain Hartwell, 'perform
your part of the play, or let some one else take your place--you forget
the scrape we are in at the least alarm. We might happen to salute the
rising sun from one of the tallest trees on the General's farm--an idea
far from pleasing.'
"'For my part, I could wish myself back on Long Island--but our general
expects every man to do his duty--let yours be to prevent that female
from screaming, while I secure her husband.'
"The ear of woman is quick, and from their entering the room, not a word
had escaped Mrs. Sullivan. At first she could scarce refrain from
calling out, but her uncommon strength of mind enabled her to master her
fear--she scarce knew what to think: her husband's life, herself and
family, were at stake, and her courage rose in proportion as her sense
of danger increased.
"She scarcely dared to breathe, and even the infant at her breast seemed
to partake of its mother's anxiety, and nestled closer to her bosom.
"The curtains partly shaded where she lay, and breathing a prayer to
Heaven for protection, she silently stepped from the bed, scarce knowing
how to proceed.
"Her woman's tact led her to appeal to their sympathies, if sympathies
they had--if she died, she but risked her life for one dearer than
herself whose existence to his country was invaluable--and perhaps by
this means enable him to escape. In an instant she was before them, her
infant at their feet, her pale beseeching face imploring what speech
refused to utter.
"The officers started--this sight was unexpected--the least hesitation,
and all would be lost.
"Captain Hartwell threw aside his heavy watch-cloak and said--
"'Madam, let this uniform be the warrant for our honour--our object is
to take your husband alive, if possible--that depends, however, on your
silence.'
"At this moment General Sullivan awoke, and finding his wife in the
hands of men whose calling he knew not, his good sword was soon in his
hand, but a strong arm wrested it from him--handcuffs were placed on his
wrists, and he stood their prisoner.
"He enquired by what right they entered his house! 'Our object, sir,'
replied the officer, 'is to convey you to Long Island--the least
expression of alarm from you, that moment you breathe your last--if
peaceable, no violence will be offered.' Mrs. Sullivan threw herself
before them, and entreaties for mercy gushed from her agonized heart.
'Oh! spare him--take what money is here, but leave me my husband, the
father of my children. Think, if you have wives or families, what their
sense of bereavement would be to see some murderous band tear you from
their arms, and they left in horrid uncertainty as to your fate. Take
all that we have, but leave him.' A sneer of scorn curled the officer's
lip, as he coolly replied--
"'Madam, we are neither robbers nor assassins--the compliment on our
part is quite undeserved. We are British officers.'
"'Then, sir,' exclaimed Mrs. Sullivan starting to her feet--her eyes
flashing, her proud form trembling, as her own wrongs were forgot in
those of her country--'Shame on the cause that sanctions such a deed as
this--in the silence of night to enter a peaceful dwelling and take an
unoffending man from the arms of his wife and family--Truly, such an act
as this would well need the covering of darkness. You may call
yourselves servants of Britain--that is your fit appellation. Take
him--another victim is required for my country. But the vengeance of
Heaven is abroad, and, ere long, the men who war for the price of blood,
will find the arm of him who fights for his fireside and liberty, nerved
by a stronger consciousness of right.'
"'Madam,' interrupted the officer, awed by the stern majesty of her
manner, 'I came not here to interchange words with a woman, or, I might
speak about warring against our lawful king.--But you know, Tom,'
turning to his companion, 'I never was good at preaching.' 'Not to a
woman, certainly,' said Tom, laughing, 'or rather you could never bring
one to your way of thinking.'
"A slight noise warned them of the impropriety of their longer
remaining. The General having completed dressing, took an affectionate
farewell of his wife, assuring her he would soon be enabled to return.
They left the house--but to gain the shore was a matter of some
difficulty. The general was rendered incapable of making the slightest
noise if he had wished to, and they had tied Mrs. Sullivan, and bound
her mouth to prevent her giving any alarm. But the tents were not so
easily passed. The morning was fast approaching, and the route they came
would occupy too much time to retrace it--their only plan now was to
make as straight a line as possible to the shore. Already had they
passed one tent, when the cry 'who goes there' was heard. In a moment
they gained the shadow of an adjoining tent, when a man suddenly stept
before them and demanded their business. No time could be lost--the two
officers proceeded on to the boat with the general, while the remainder
overpowered the sentinel and joined their companions as the dawn was
faintly perceptible in the east. By the time an alarm was given, they
were far beyond the reach of pursuit.
"Their prisoner was borne triumph to their commander, who intended
waiting superior orders as to the disposal of him.
"In the meanwhile, Mrs. Sullivan was not idle. A council was called, and
every plan was proposed that could tend to liberate her husband.
"The womanly wit of Mrs. Sullivan suggested that they should cross the
river in the same manner as the British had done, and seize the person
of one of their influential men, and hold him as an hostage until terms
could be agreed upon for the exchange of prisoners. It was a risk, and
if discovered, no mercy could be expected.
"The nephew of the general, a young officer of merit, and several
others, volunteered their services. The following night was arranged for
the purpose.
"The difficulty, when the time arrived, was to procure some mode of
getting over. A whale-boat was at length found, into which the
adventurers got, disguised as fishermen. They soon arrived at Long
Island and proceeded to the residence of Judge Jones.
"With some difficulty they secured that worthy functionary, and
notwithstanding his assurance as to being a good patriot, which they
assured him they did not in the least question, conveyed the good man to
the boat, in spite of his wish to finish his sleep out, and embarked
pleased with their success. On reaching the house of Mrs. Sullivan they
introduced their prisoner. Mrs. Sullivan courteously apologized for the
necessity they had been under for requesting his society without due
time for preparation; a suring him that the house and all in it were at
his service while he honoured it as his abode.
"The Judge was taken quite at a loss. At any time he was a man of a few
words, but the sudden transition had quite bewildered his faculties. At
times he doubted whether the good old cogniac, of which he had taken a
plentiful supply before retiring to rest, had not turned his head.
"He stood in the centre of the apartment gazing listlessly around him,
until the voice of Mrs. Sullivan, politely inquiring if her guest stood
in need of any refreshment, recalled his fleeting thoughts. The tempting
repast set before him did wonders in restoring his good humor, his sail
having given him quite an appetite, and at any time a lover of the good
things of life, and knowing arguments could produce no alteration in his
fate, he submitted with as much good grace as possible, a little
alleviated by the reflection that a woman's care was not the worst he
could have fallen into. By a singular coincidence, Mrs. Sullivan learnt
that her husband was an inmate in the house of the Judge, an assurance
in every way relieving, having been placed in his charge until conveyed
from Flatbush.
"Letters were soon interchanged, the Americans refusing to yield their
prisoner without the British doing the same. Terms were accordingly
entered into, and the Judge prepared to take leave of his fair hostess
at the same time her husband was taking leave of the Judge's wife.--The
Judge had been highly pleased with the manners of Mrs. Sullivan, who did
every thing in her power to make his stay agreeable.
"The two boats with their respective prisoners at length set sail, and
meeting on the river, they had an opportunity of congratulating each
other on the happy termination of their imprisonment, which, thanks to
woman's wit, so fertile in expedients, had saved them from what might
have been a tragedy. With assurances of friendship they parted, the
wives soon having the pleasure of embracing their husbands. Subsequently
letters couched in terms of the warmest gratitude were exchanged
between the two ladies, for the attention paid to their respective
husbands."
"That Mrs. Sullivan was a remarkable woman," remarked Colson. "But so
were most of the women of our side at that time; and the fact is, such a
cause as ours would have made heroes and heroines out of the weakest.
Besides, what won't a woman do to save her husband, at all times?"
"A good stratagem--that of Mrs. Sullivan's," said Hand.
"Equal to some of Washington's generalship," remarked Kinnison. Each one
of the party had some remark to make upon the courage and resource of
Mrs. Sullivan, except Brown, the fifer, who was enjoying the dreams of
Morpheus, and therefore deaf to the narrative.
THE PATRIOTISM OF MRS. BORDEN.
"I heard of an instance in which a woman was still more heroic than Mrs.
Sullivan," said Ransom, "Because, in this case, the lady suffered for
maintaining the cause of her country.