DUBIOUS POSITION OF BURGOYNE—COLLECTS HIS FORCES—LADIES OF DISTINCTION
IN HIS CAMP—LADY HARRIET ACKLAND—THE BARONESS DE RIEDESEL—AMERICAN
ARMY REINFORCED—SILENT MOVEMENTS OF BURGOYNE—WATCHED FROM THE SUMMIT
OF THE HILLS—HIS MARCH ALONG THE HUDSON—POSITION OF THE TWO
CAMPS—BATTLE OF THE 19TH SEPT.—BURGOYNE ENCAMPS NEARER—FORTIFIES HIS
CAMP—PROMISED CO-OPERATION BY SIR HENRY CLINTON—DETERMINES TO AWAIT
IT—QUARREL BETWEEN GATES AND ARNOLD—ARNOLD DEPRIVED OF
COMMAND—BURGOYNE WAITS FOR CO-OPERATION.
The checks which Burgoyne had received on right and left, and, in a
great measure, through the spontaneous rising of the country, had opened
his eyes to the difficulties of his situation, and the errors as to
public feeling into which he had been led by his tory counsellors. “The
great bulk of the country is undoubtedly with the Congress in principle
and zeal,” writes he, “and their measures are executed with a secrecy
and despatch that are not to be equalled. Wherever the king’s forces
point, militia, to the amount of three or four thousand, assemble in
twenty-four hours: _they bring with them their subsistence, &c., and,
the alarm over, they return to their farms_. The Hampshire Grants, in
particular, a country unpeopled and almost unknown last war, now abounds
in the most active and most rebellious race of the continent, and hangs
like a gathering storm upon my left.” What a picture this gives of a
patriotic and warlike yeomanry. He complains, too, that no operation had
yet been undertaken in his favor; the Highlands of the Hudson had not
even been threatened: the consequence was that two brigades had been
detached from them to strengthen the army of Gates, strongly posted near
the mouth of the Mohawk River, with a superior force of Continental
troops, and as many militia as he pleased.
Burgoyne declared, that had he any latitude in his orders, he would
remain where he was, or perhaps fall back to Fort Edward, where his
communication with Lake George would be secure, and wait for some event
that might assist his movement forward; his orders, however, were
positive to force a junction with Sir William Howe. He did not feel at
liberty, therefore, to remain inactive longer than would be necessary to
receive the reinforcements of the additional companies, the German
drafts and recruits actually on Lake Champlain, and to collect
provisions enough for twenty-five days. These reinforcements were
indispensable, because, from the hour he should pass the Hudson River
and proceed towards Albany, all safety of communication would cease.
“I yet do not despair,” adds he, manfully. “Should I succeed in forcing
my way to Albany, and find that country in a state to subsist my army, I
shall think no more of a retreat, but, at the worst, fortify there, and
await Sir William’s operations.”[63]
A feature of peculiar interest is given to this wild and rugged
expedition, by the presence of two ladies of rank and refinement,
involved in its perils and hardships. One was Lady Harriet Ackland,
daughter of the Earl of Ilchester, and wife of Major Ackland of the
grenadiers; the other was the Baroness De Riedesel, wife of the Hessian
major-general. Both of these ladies had been left behind in Canada. Lady
Harriet, however, on hearing that her husband was wounded in the affair
at Hubbardton, instantly set out to rejoin him, regardless of danger,
and of her being in a condition before long to become a mother.
Crossing the whole length of Lake Champlain, she found him in a sick bed
at Skenesborough. After his recovery, she refused to leave him, but had
continued with the army ever since. Her example had been imitated by the
Baroness De Riedesel, who had joined the army at Fort Edward, bringing
with her her three small children. The friendship and sympathy of these
two ladies in all scenes of trial and suffering, and their devoted
attachment to their husbands, afford touching episodes in the story of
the campaign. When the army was on the march, they followed a little
distance in the rear, Lady Harriet in a two-wheeled tumbril, the
Baroness in a calash, capable of holding herself, her children, and two
servants. The latter has left a journal of her campaigning, which we may
occasionally cite. “They moved,” she says, “in the midst of soldiery,
who were full of animation, singing camp songs, and panting for action.
They had to travel through almost impassable woods; in a picturesque and
beautiful region; but which was almost abandoned by its inhabitants, who
had hastened to join the American army.” “They added much to its
strength,” observes she, “as they were all good marksmen, and the love
of their country inspired them with more than ordinary courage.”[64]
The American army had received various reinforcements: the most
efficient was Morgan’s corps of riflemen, sent by Washington. He had
also furnished it with artillery. It was now about ten thousand strong.
Schuyler, finding himself and his proffered services slighted by Gates,
had returned to Albany. His patriotism was superior to personal
resentments. He still continued to promote the success of the campaign,
exerting his influence over the Indian tribes, to win them from the
enemy. At Albany, he held talks and war feasts with deputations of
Oneida, Tuscarora, and Onondaga warriors; and procured scouting parties
of them, which he sent to the camp, and which proved of great service.
His former aide-de-camp, Colonel Brockholst Livingston, and his
secretary, Colonel Varick, remained in camp, and kept him informed by
letter of passing occurrences. They were much about the person of
General Arnold, who, since his return from relieving Fort Stanwix,
commanded the left wing of the army. Livingston, in fact, was with him
as aide-de-camp. The jealousy of Gates was awakened by these
circumstances. He knew their attachment to Schuyler, and suspected they
were prejudicing the mind of Arnold against him; and this suspicion may
have been the origin of a coolness and neglect which he soon evinced
toward Arnold himself. These young officers, however, though devotedly
attached to Schuyler from a knowledge of his generous character, were
above any camp intrigue. Livingston was again looking forward with
youthful ardor to a brush with the enemy; but regretted that his former
chief would not be there to lead it. “Burgoyne,” writes he to Schuyler
exultingly, “is in such a situation, that he can neither advance nor
retire without fighting. A capital battle must soon be fought. I am
chagrined to the soul when I think that another person will reap the
fruits of your labors.”[65]
Colonel Varick, equally eager, was afraid Burgoyne might be decamping.
“His evening guns,” writes he, “are seldom heard, and when heard, are
very low in sound.”[66]
The dense forests, in fact, which covered the country between the
hostile armies, concealed their movements, and as Gates threw out no
harassing parties, his information concerning the enemy was vague.
Burgoyne, however, was diligently collecting all his forces from
Skenesborough, Fort Anne and Fort George, and collecting provisions; he
had completed a bridge by which he intended to pass the Hudson, and
force his way to Albany, where he expected co-operation from below.
Every thing was conducted with as much silence and caution as possible.
His troops paraded without beat of drum, and evening guns were
discontinued. So stood matters on the 11th of September, when a report
was circulated in the American camp, that Burgoyne was in motion, and
that he had made a speech to his soldiers, telling them that the fleet
had returned to Canada, and their only safety was to fight their way to
New York.
As General Gates was to _receive_ an attack, it was thought he ought to
choose the ground where to receive it; Arnold, therefore, in company
with Kosciuszko, the Polish engineer, reconnoitred the neighborhood in
quest of a good camping ground, and at length fixed upon a ridge of
hills called Bemis’s Heights, which Kosciuszko proceeded to fortify.
In the mean time, Colonel Colburn was sent off with a small party to
ascend the high hills on the east side of the Hudson, and watch the
movements of the enemy with glasses from their summits, or from the tops
of the trees. For three days he kept thus on the look-out, sending word
from time to time to camp of all that he espied.
On the 11th there were the first signs of movement among Burgoyne’s
troops. On the 13th and 14th, they slowly passed over a bridge of boats,
which they had thrown across the Hudson, and encamped near Fish Creek.
Colburn counted eight hundred tents, including marquees. A mile in
advance were fourteen more tents. The Hessians remained encamped on the
eastern side of the river, but intervening woods concealed the number of
their tents. There was not the usual stir of military animation in the
camps. There were no evening nor morning guns.
On the 15th, both English and Hessian camps struck their tents, and
loaded their baggage waggons. By twelve o’clock both began to march.
Colburn neglected to notice the route taken by the Hessians; his
attention was absorbed by the British, who made their way slowly and
laboriously down the western side of the river, along a wretched road
intersected by brooks and rivulets, the bridges over which Schuyler had
broken down. The division had with it eighty-five baggage waggons and a
great train of artillery; with two unwieldy twenty-four-pounders, acting
like drag anchors. It was a silent, dogged march, without beat of drum,
or spirit-stirring bray of trumpet. A body of light troops, new levies,
and Indians, painted and decorated for war, struck off from the rest and
disappeared in the forest, up Fish Creek. From the great silence
observed by Burgoyne in his movements, and the care he took in keeping
his men together, and allowing no straggling parties, Colonel Colburn
apprehended that he meditated an attack. Having seen the army advance
two miles on its march, therefore, he descended from the heights, and
hastened to the American camp to make his report. A British prisoner,
brought in soon afterwards, stated that Burgoyne had come to a halt
about four miles distant.
On the following morning, the army was under arms at daylight; the
enemy, however, remained encamped, repairing bridges in front, and
sending down guard boats to reconnoitre; the Americans, therefore, went
on to fortify their position. The ridge of hills called Bemis’s Heights,
rises abruptly from the narrow flat bordering the west side of the
river. Kosciuszko had fortified the camp with intrenchments three
quarters of a mile in extent, having redoubts and batteries, which
commanded the valley, and even the hills on the opposite side of the
river; for the Hudson, in this upper part, is comparatively a narrow
stream. From the foot of the height, an intrenchment extended to the
river, ending with a battery at the water edge, commanding a floating
bridge.
The right wing of the army, under the immediate command of Gates, and
composed of Glover’s, Nixon’s, and Patterson’s brigades, occupied the
brow of the hill nearest to the river, with the flats below.
The left wing, commanded by Arnold, was on the side of the camp furthest
from the river, and distant from the latter about three quarters of a
mile. It was composed of the New Hampshire brigade of General Poor,
Pierre Van Courtlandt’s and James Livingston’s regiments of New York
militia, the Connecticut militia, Morgan’s riflemen, and Dearborn’s
infantry. The centre was composed of Massachusetts and New York troops.
Burgoyne gradually drew nearer to the camp, throwing out large parties
of pioneers and workmen. The Americans disputed every step. A Hessian
officer observes: “The enemy bristled up his hair, as we attempted to
repair more bridges. At last, we had to do him the honor of sending out
whole regiments to protect our workmen.”[67]
It was Arnold who provoked this honor. At the head of fifteen hundred
men he skirmished bravely with the superior force sent out against him,
and retired with several prisoners.
Burgoyne now encamped about two miles from General Gates, disposing his
army in two lines; the left on the river, the right extending at right
angles to it, about six hundred yards, across the low grounds to a range
of steep and rocky hills, occupied by the _élite_; a ravine formed by a
rivulet from the hills passed in front of the camp. The low ground
between the armies was cultivated; the hills were covered with woods,
excepting three or four small openings and deserted farms. Beside the
ravines which fronted each camp there was a third one, midway between
them, also at right angles to the river.[68]
On the morning of the 19th, General Gates received intelligence that the
enemy were advancing in great force on his left. It was, in fact, their
right wing, composed of the British line and led by Burgoyne in person.
It was covered by the grenadiers and light-infantry under General Fraser
and Colonel Breyman, who kept along the high grounds on the right; while
they, in turn, were covered in front and on the flanks by Indians,
provincial royalists and Canadians. The left wing and artillery were
advancing at the same time, under Major-general Phillips and Riedesel,
along the great road and meadows by the river side, but they were
retarded by the necessity of repairing broken bridges. It was the plan
of Burgoyne, that the Canadians and Indians should attack the central
outposts of the Americans, and draw their attention in that direction,
while he and Fraser, making a circuit through the woods, should join
forces and fall upon the rear of the American camp. As the dense forests
hid them from each other, signal-guns were to regulate their movements.
Three, fired in succession, were to denote that all was ready, and be
the signal for an attack in front, flank and rear.
The American pickets, stationed along the ravine of Mill Creek, sent
repeated accounts to General Gates of the movements of the enemy; but he
remained quiet in his camp as if determined to await an attack. The
American officers grew impatient. Arnold especially, impetuous by
nature, urged repeatedly that a detachment should be sent forth to check
the enemy in their advance, and drive the Indians out of the woods. At
length he succeeded in getting permission, about noon, to detach Morgan
with his riflemen and Dearborn with his infantry from his division. They
soon fell in with the Canadians and Indians, which formed the advance
guard of the enemy’s right, and attacking them with spirit, drove them
in, or rather dispersed them. Morgan’s riflemen, following up their
advantage with too much eagerness, became likewise scattered, and a
strong reinforcement of royalists arriving on the scene of action, the
Americans, in their turn, were obliged to give way.
Other detachments now arrived from the American camp, led by Arnold, who
attacked Fraser on his right, to check his attempt to get in the rear of
the camp. Finding the position of Fraser too strong to be forced, he
sent to head-quarters for reinforcements, but they were refused by
Gates, who declared that no more should go; “he would not suffer his
camp to be exposed.”[69] The reason he gave was that it might be
attacked by the enemy’s left wing.
Arnold now made a rapid countermarch, and, his movement being masked by
the woods, suddenly attempted to turn Fraser’s left. Here he came in
full conflict with the British line, and threw himself upon it with a
boldness and impetuosity that for a time threatened to break it, and cut
the wings of the army asunder. The grenadiers and Breyman’s riflemen
hastened to its support. General Phillips broke his way through the
woods with four pieces of artillery, and Riedesel came on with his heavy
dragoons. Reinforcements came likewise to Arnold’s assistance; his
force, however, never exceeded three thousand men, and with these, for
nearly four hours, he kept up a conflict almost hand to hand, with the
whole right wing of the British army. Part of the time the Americans had
the advantage of fighting under the cover of a wood, so favorable to
their militia and sharpshooters Burgoyne ordered the woods to be cleared
by the bayonet. His troops rushed forward in columns with a hurra! The
Americans kept within their intrenchments, and repeatedly repulsed them;
but, if they pursued their advantage, and advanced into open field, they
were in their turn driven back.
Night alone put an end to a conflict, which the British acknowledged to
have been the most obstinate and hardly fought they had ever experienced
in America. Both parties claimed the victory. But, though the British
remained on the field of battle, where they lay all night upon their
arms, they had failed in their object; they had been assailed instead of
being the assailants; while the American troops had accomplished the
purpose for which they had sallied forth; had checked the advance of the
enemy, frustrated their plan of attack, and returned exulting to their
camp. Their loss, in killed and wounded, was between three and four
hundred, including several officers; that of the enemy upwards of five
hundred.
Burgoyne gives an affecting picture of the situation of the ladies of
rank already mentioned, during this action. Lady Harriet had been
directed by her husband, Major Ackland, to follow the route of the
artillery and baggage, which was not exposed. “At the time the action
began,” writes Burgoyne, “she found herself near a small uninhabited
hut, where she alighted. When it was found the action was becoming
general and bloody, the surgeons of the hospital took possession of the
same place, as the most convenient for the first care of the wounded.
Thus was the lady in hearing of one continued fire of cannon and
musketry, for four hours together, with the presumption, from the post
of her husband at the head of the grenadiers, that he was in the most
exposed part of the action. She had three female companions, the
Baroness of Riedesel, and the wives of two British officers, Major
Harnage and Lieutenant Reynell; but in the event their presence served
but little for comfort. Major Harnage was soon brought to the surgeons
very badly wounded; and in a little time after came intelligence that
Lieutenant Reynell was shot dead. Imagination wants no helps to figure
the state of the whole group.”
Arnold was excessively indignant at Gates’s withholding the
reinforcements he had required in the heat of the action; had they been
furnished, he said, he might have severed the line of the enemy and
gained a complete victory. He was urgent to resume the action on the
succeeding morning, and follow up the advantage he had gained, but Gates
declined, to his additional annoyance. He attributed the refusal to
pique or jealousy, but Gates subsequently gave as a reason the great
deficiency of powder and ball in the camp, which was known only to
himself, and which he kept secret until a supply was sent from Albany.
Burgoyne now strengthened his position with intrenchments and batteries,
part of them across the meadows which bordered the river, part on the
brow of the heights which commanded them. The Americans likewise
extended and strengthened their line of breastworks on the left of the
camp; the right was already unassailable. The camps were within gunshot,
but with ravines and woods between them.
Washington’s predictions of the effect to be produced by Morgan’s
riflemen approached fulfilment. The Indians, dismayed at the severe
treatment experienced from these veteran bush fighters, were
disappearing from the British camp. The Canadians and royal provincials,
“mere trimmers,” as Burgoyne called them, were deserting in great
numbers, and he had no confidence in those who remained.
His situation was growing more and more critical. On the 21st, he heard
shouts in the American camp, and in a little while their cannon
thundered a _feu de joie_. News had been received from General Lincoln,
that a detachment of New England troops under Colonel Brown had
surprised the carrying-place, mills, and French lines at Ticonderoga,
captured an armed sloop, gunboats and bateaux, made three hundred
prisoners, beside releasing one hundred American captives, and were
laying siege to Fort Independence.[70]
Fortunately for Burgoyne, while affairs were darkening in the North, a
ray of hope dawned from the South. While the shouts from the American
camp were yet ringing in his ears, came a letter in cipher from Sir
Henry Clinton, dated the 12th of September, announcing his intention in
about ten days to attack the forts in the Highlands of the Hudson.
Burgoyne sent back the messenger the same night, and despatched,
moreover, two officers in disguise, by different routes, all bearing
messages informing Sir Henry of his perilous situation, and urging a
diversion that might oblige General Gates to detach a part of his army;
adding, that he would endeavor to maintain his present position, and
await favorable events until the 12th of October.[71]
The jealousy of Gates had been intensely excited at finding the whole
credit of the late affair given by the army to Arnold: in his despatches
to government he made no mention of him. This increased the schism
between them. Wilkinson, the adjutant-general, who was a sycophantic
adherent of Gates, pandered to his pique by withdrawing from Arnold’s
division Morgan’s rifle corps and Dearborn’s light-infantry, its arm of
strength, which had done such brilliant service in the late affair: they
were henceforth to be subject to no order but those from head-quarters.
Arnold called on Gates on the evening of the 22d, to remonstrate. High
words passed between them, and matters came to an open rupture. Gates,
in his heat, told Arnold that he did not consider him a major-general,
he having sent his resignation to Congress—that he had never given him
the command of any division of the army—that General Lincoln would
arrive in a day or two, and then he would have no further occasion for
him, and would give him a pass to go to Philadelphia, whenever he
chose.[72]
Arnold returned to his quarters in a rage, and wrote a note to Gates
requesting the proffered permit to depart for Philadelphia; by the time
he received it his ire had cooled and he had changed his mind. He
determined to remain in camp and abide the anticipated battle.
Lincoln, in the mean time, arrived in advance of his troops; which soon
followed to the amount of two thousand. Part of the troops, detached by
him under Colonel Brown, were besieging Ticonderoga and Fort
Independence. Colonel Brown himself, with part of his detachment, had
embarked on Lake George in an armed schooner and a squadron of captured
gunboats and bateaux, and was threatening the enemy’s deposit of baggage
and heavy artillery at Diamond Island. The toils so skilfully spread
were encompassing Burgoyne more and more; the gates of Canada were
closing behind him.
A morning or two after Lincoln’s arrival, Arnold observed him giving
some directions in the left division, and quickly inquired whether he
was doing so by order of General Gates; being answered in the negative,
he observed that the left division belonged to him; and that he believed
his (Lincoln’s) proper station was on the right, and that of General
Gates ought to be in the centre. He requested him to mention this to
General Gates, and have the matter adjusted.
“He is determined,” writes Varick, “not to suffer any one to interfere
in his division, and says it will be death to any officer who does so in
action.” Arnold, in fact, was in a bellicose vein, and rather blustered
about the camp. Gates, he said, could not refuse him his command, and he
would not yield it now that a battle was expected.
Some of the general officers and colonels of his division proposed to
make him an address, thanking him for his past services particularly in
the late action, and entreating him to stay. Others suggested that the
general officers should endeavor to produce a reconciliation between the
jarring parties. Lincoln was inclined to do so; but, in the end, neither
measure was taken through fear of offending General Gates. In the mean
time Arnold remained in camp, treated, he said, as a cipher, and never
consulted; though when Congress had sent him to that department, at the
request of General Washington, they expected the commander would at
least have taken his opinion on public matters.
On the 30th, he gave vent to his feelings in an indignant letter to
Gates. “Notwithstanding I have reason to think your treatment proceeds
from a spirit of jealousy,” writes he, “and that I have every thing to
fear from the malice of my enemies, conscious of my own innocency and
integrity, I am determined to sacrifice my feelings, present peace and
quiet, to the public good, and continue in the army at this critical
juncture, when my country needs every support.
“I hope,” concludes he, “you will not impute this hint to a wish to
command the army, or to outshine you, when I assure you it proceeds from
my zeal for the cause of my country, in which I expect to rise or
fall.”[73]
All this time the Americans were harassing the British camp with
frequent night alarms and attacks on its pickets and outposts.
“From the 20th of September to the 7th of October,” writes Burgoyne,
“the armies were so near, that not a night passed without firing, and
sometimes concerted attacks upon our advanced pickets. I do not believe
either officer or soldier ever slept in that interval without his
clothes; or that any general officer or commander of a regiment passed a
single night, without being upon his legs occasionally at different
hours, and constantly an hour before daylight.”[74]
Still Burgoyne kept up a resolute mien, telling his soldiers, in a
harangue, that he was determined to leave his bones on the field, or
force his way to Albany. He yet clung to the hope, that Sir Henry
Clinton might operate in time to relieve him from his perilous position.
We will now cast a look toward New York, and ascertain the cause of Sir
Henry’s delay in his anxiously expected operations on the Hudson.