"You may take us now to Frazer's grave," Captain Raymond said to the
driver as they re-entered their carriage after a cordial good-by and
liberal gift to their young guide.
"Please tell us something more about Frazer, Papa, won't you?"
requested Lulu.
"Willingly," returned her father. "Frazer was a brave and skilful
officer; made brigadier-general for America only, by Carleton, in June,
1776. He helped to drive the Americans out of Canada in that year.
Burgoyne chose him to command the light brigade which formed the right
wing of the British army, so that he was constantly in the advance.
In the fight of October 7th he made a conspicuous figure, dressed in
the full uniform of a field-officer, mounted on a splendid iron-gray
gelding, and exerting himself to encourage and cheer on his men. Morgan
saw how important he was to the British cause, pointed him out to his
sharpshooters, and bade them cut him off. 'That gallant officer,' he
said, 'is General Frazer. I admire and honour him; but it is necessary
he should die, because victory for the enemy depends upon him. Take
your stations in that clump of bushes, and do your duty!' They obeyed,
and in five minutes Frazer fell mortally wounded, and was carried from
the field by two grenadiers. Only a few moments before he was hit, the
crupper of his horse was cut by a rifle-ball, and directly afterward
another passed through the horse's mane, a little back of his ears.
Then his _aide_ said, 'General, it is evident that you are marked out
for particular aim; would it not be prudent for you to retire from this
place?' 'My duty forbids me to retire from danger,' Frazer answered;
and the next moment he fell. That is Lossing's account; and he goes on
to say that Morgan has been censured for the order by some persons,
professing to understand the rules of war, as guilty of a highly
dishonourable act; also by others, who gloat over the horrid details of
the slaying of thousands of humble rank-and-file men as deeds worthy
of a shout for glory, and have no tears to shed for the slaughtered
ones, but affect to shudder at such a cold-blooded murder of an officer
on the battle-field. But, as Lossing justly remarks, the life of an
officer is no dearer to himself, his wife, and children, than that of a
private to his, and that the slaying of Frazer probably saved the lives
of hundreds of common soldiers."
"Yes, Papa," returned Max, thoughtfully; "and so I think Morgan
deserves all praise for giving that order to his men. If Frazer did
not want to lose his life, he should not have come here to help crush
out liberty in this country."
"Papa, do you think he hated the Americans?" asked Lulu.
"No, I presume not; his principal motive in coming here and taking
an active part in the war was probably to make a name for himself as
a brave and skilful officer,--at least, so I judge from his dying
exclamation, 'Oh, fatal ambition!'"
"How different he was from our Washington," exclaimed Max. "He seemed
to want nothing for himself, and sought only his country's good. Papa,
it does seem to me that Washington was the greatest mere man history
tells of."
"I think so," responded the Captain; "he seems to have been so entirely
free from selfishness, ambition, and pride. And yet he had enemies and
detractors, even among those who wished well to the cause for which he
was doing so much."
"Such a burning shame!" cried Lulu, her eyes flashing. "Was Gates one
of them, Papa?"
"Yes; to his shame, be it said, he was. He treated Washington with much
disrespect, giving him no report whatever of the victory at Saratoga.
It was not until early in November that he wrote at all to the
commander-in-chief, and then merely mentioned the matter incidentally.
In that month Gates was made president of the new Board of War and
Ordnance, and during the following winter he joined with what is known
as the 'Conway cabal' in an effort to supplant Washington in the chief
command of the army."
"What a wretch!" exclaimed Lulu. "It would have been a very bad thing
for our cause if he had succeeded,--wouldn't it, Papa?"
"Without doubt," answered the Captain; "for though Gates had some very
good qualities, he was far from being fit to fill the position held by
Washington."
"He wasn't a good Christian man, like Washington, was he, Papa?" she
asked.
"No, not by any means at that time, though it is said--I hope with
truth--that he afterward became one. He was arrogant, untruthful, and
had an overweening confidence in his own ability. Yet he had some noble
traits; he emancipated his slaves, and provided for those who were
unable to take care of themselves. Also, he was, it is said, a good and
affectionate husband and father."
"Papa, wasn't it known whose shot killed Frazer?" queried Max.
"Yes; it was that of a rifleman named Timothy Murphy. He was posted in
a small tree, took deliberate aim, and saw Frazer fall. Frazer, too,
told some one he saw the man who shot him, and that he was in a tree.
Murphy was one of Morgan's surest shots."
"I should think he must always have felt badly about it, only that he
knew he did it to help save his country," said Lulu.
"It seemed to be necessary for the salvation of our country," replied
her father; "and no doubt that thought prevented Murphy's conscience
from troubling him."
"Didn't the Americans at first fire on the funeral procession, Papa?"
asked Lulu.
"Yes; but ceased as soon as they understood the nature of the
gathering, and at regular intervals the solemn boom of a single cannon
was heard along the valley. It was a minute-gun, fired by the Americans
in honour of their fallen foe, the gallant dead. Ah, here we are at his
grave!" added the Captain, as horses and vehicle came to a standstill
and the carriage-door was thrown open.
They alighted and walked about the grave and its monument, pausing to
read the inscription on the latter.
"Though an enemy to our country, he was a gallant man, a brave and good
soldier," remarked the Captain, reflectively.
"Yes, Papa; and I can't help feeling sorry for him," said Lulu. "I
suppose he had to obey his king's orders of course; he couldn't well
help it, and probably he had no real hatred to the people of this
country. It does seem hard that he had to die and be buried so far away
from all he loved."
"Yes," said Max; "but he had to be killed to save our country, since he
would use his time and talents in trying to help reduce her to slavery.
I'm sorry for him, too; but as he would put his talents to so wrong a
use, there was no choice but to kill him,--isn't that so, Papa?"
"I think so," replied the Captain; "but it was a great pity. Frazer was
a brave officer, idolized by his own men, and respected by even his
enemies."
"It seems sad he should lie buried so far away from all he loved,--all
his own people; and in a strange land, too. But he could hardly lie in
a lovelier spot, I think," remarked Lulu; "the hills, the mountains,
the beautiful river, the woods, the fields, and these tall twin
pine-trees standing like sentinels beside his grave,--oh I think it
is just lovely! I think he showed excellent taste in his choice of a
burial-place."
"Yes, nice place enough to lie in, if one could only be on top of the
ground and able to see what it's like," came in hollow tones, seemingly
from the grave.
The Captain glanced at his son with a slightly amused smile.
Lulu was startled for an instant; then, with a little laugh, as her
father took her hand and led her back to the waiting carriage, "Oh,
Maxie, that was almost too bad, though he was an enemy to our country!"
she exclaimed.
"I wouldn't have done it if I'd thought it would hurt his feelings,"
returned Max, in a tone of mock regret; "but I really didn't suppose
he'd know or care anything about it."
"Where now, sir?" asked the driver as the Captain handed Lulu to her
seat.
"To the Schuyler mansion," was the reply.
"Oh, I'm glad we're going there!" exclaimed Lulu. "I've always liked
everything I've heard about General Schuyler; and I'll be ever so glad
to see the house he used to live in."
"It isn't the same house that Burgoyne caroused in the night after the
battle of Bemis Heights, is it, Papa?" asked Max.
"No; that was burned by Burgoyne's orders a few days later," replied
the Captain.
"And when was this one built?" asked Lulu.
"That is a disputed point," said her father. "Some say it was shortly
after the surrender in 1777; others, not until soon after the peace of
1783."
"Anyhow it was General Schuyler's house, and so we'll be glad to see
it," she said. "Papa, is it on the exact spot where the other--the
first one--was? The one Burgoyne caroused in, I mean."
"They say not, quite; that it stands a little to the west of where the
first one did."
"But General Schuyler owned and lived in it, which makes it almost, if
not quite, as well worth seeing as the first one would have been," said
Max.
"Yes," assented the Captain. "It was on his return from Bemis Heights
that Burgoyne took possession of the mansion for his headquarters;
that was on the evening of the 9th of October. His troops, who had
been marching through mud, water, and rain for the last twenty-four
hours, with nothing to eat, encamped unfed on the wet ground near
Schuylerville, while he and his cronies feasted and enjoyed themselves
as though the sufferings of the common soldiery were nothing to them."
"Wasn't that the night before the day the Baroness Riedesel went to the
Marshall place?" queried Max.
"Yes," replied his father. "Her husband, General Riedesel, and others,
urgently remonstrated against the unnecessary and imprudent delay,
and counselled hasty retreat; but Burgoyne would not listen to their
prudent advice. While the storm beat upon his hungry, weary soldiers
lying without on the rain-soaked ground, he and his mates held high
carnival within, spending the night in merry-making, drinking, and
carousing."
"What a foolish fellow!" said Max. "I wonder that he didn't rather
spend it in slipping away from the Americans through the darkness and
storm."
"Or in getting ready to fight them again the next day," added Lulu.
"I think there was fighting the next day,--wasn't there, Papa?" said
Max.
"Yes; though not a regular battle. Burgoyne was attempting a
retreat, which the Americans, constantly increasing in numbers, were
preventing,--destroying bridges, obstructing roads leading northward,
and guarding the river to the eastward, so that the British troops
could not cross it without exposure to a murderous artillery fire. At
last, finding his provisions nearly exhausted, himself surrounded by
more than five times his own number of troops, and all his positions
commanded by his enemy's artillery, the proud British general
surrendered."
"And it was a great victory,--wasn't it, Papa?" asked Lulu.
"It was, indeed! and God, the God of our fathers, gave it to the
American people. The time was one of the great crises of history.
Before that battle things looked very dark for the people of this
land; and if Burgoyne had been victorious, the probability is that the
struggle for liberty would have been given up for no one knows how
long. Perhaps we might have been still subject to England."
"And that would be dreadful!" she exclaimed with warmth,--"wouldn't it,
Max?"
"Yes, indeed!" he assented, his cheek flushing, and his eye kindling;
"the idea of this great country being governed by that bit of an island
away across the sea! I just feel sometimes as if I'd like to have
helped with the fight."
"In that case," returned his father, with an amused look, "you would
hardly be here now; or, if you were, you would be old enough to be my
grandfather."
"Then I'm glad I wasn't, sir," laughed Max; "for I'd rather be your son
by a great deal. Papa, wasn't it about that time the stars and stripes
were first used?"
"No, my son; there was at least one used before that," the Captain
said with a half smile,--"at Fort Schuyler, which was attacked by St.
Leger with his band of British troops, Canadians, Indians, and Tories,
early in the previous August. The garrison was without a flag when the
enemy appeared before it, but soon supplied themselves by their own
ingenuity, tearing shirts into strips to make the white stripes and
stars, joining bits of scarlet cloth for the red stripes, and using a
blue cloth cloak, belonging to one of the officers, as the groundwork
for the stars. Before sunset it was waving in the breeze over one of
the bastions of the fort, and no doubt its makers gazed upon it with
pride and pleasure."
"Oh, that was nice!" exclaimed Lulu. "But I don't remember about the
fighting at that fort. Did St. Leger take it, Papa?"
"No; the gallant garrison held out against him till Arnold came to
their relief. The story is a very interesting one; but I must reserve
it for another time, as we are now nearing Schuyler's mansion."
The mansion was already in sight, and in a few moments their carriage
had drawn up in front of it. They were politely received, and shown a
number of interesting relics.
The first thing that attracted their attention was an artistic
arrangement of arms on the wall fronting the great front door.
"Oh, what are those?" Lulu asked in eager tones, her eyes fixed upon
them in an intensely interested way. "Please, sir, may I go and look at
them?" addressing the gentleman who had received them and now invited
them to walk in.
"Yes, certainly," he answered with a smile, and leading the way.
"This," he said, touching the hilt of a sword, "was carried at the
battle of Bennington by an _aide_ of General Stark. This other sword,
and this musket and cartridge-box, belonged to John Strover, and were
carried by him in the battles of the Revolution."
"Valuable and interesting souvenirs," remarked Captain Raymond.
They were shown other relics of those troublous times,--shells, grape,
knee and shoe buckles, grubbing-hooks, and other things that had been
picked up on the place in the years that had elapsed since the struggle
for independence. But what interested Max and Lulu still more than any
of these was a beautiful teacup, from which, as the gentleman told
them, General Washington, while on a visit to General Schuyler, had
drunk tea made from a portion of one of those cargoes of Boston harbour
fame.
"That cup must be very precious, sir," remarked Lulu, gazing admiringly
at it. "If it were mine, money couldn't buy it from me."
"No," he returned pleasantly; "and I am sure you would never have
robbed us, as some vandal visitor did not long ago, of a saucer and
plate belonging to the same set."
"No, no, indeed!" she replied with emphasis, and looking quite aghast
at the very idea. "Could anybody be so wicked as that?"
"Somebody was," he said with a slight sigh; "and it has made us feel
it necessary to be more careful to whom we show such things. Now let me
show you the burial-place of Thomas Lovelace," he added, leading the
way out into the grounds.
"I don't remember to have heard his story, sir," said Max, as they
all followed in the gentleman's wake; "but I would like to very much
indeed. Papa, I suppose you know all about him."
"I presume this gentleman can tell the story far better than I,"
replied the Captain, with an inquiring look at their guide.
"I will do my best," he said in reply. "You know, doubtless," with a
glance at Max and his sister, "what the Tories of the Revolution were.
Some of them were the bitterest foes of their countrymen who were
in that fearful struggle for freedom,--wicked men, who cared really
for nothing but enriching themselves at the expense of others, and
from covetousness became as relentless robbers and murderers of their
neighbours and former friends as the very savages of the wilderness.
Lovelace was one of these, and had become a terror to the inhabitants
of this his native district of Saratoga. He went to Canada about the
beginning of the war, and there confederated with five other men
like himself to come back to this region and plunder, betray, and
abduct those who were struggling for freedom from their British
oppressors,--old neighbours, for whom he should have felt only pity
and kindness, even if he did not see things in just the same light
that they did. These miscreants had their place of rendezvous in a
large swamp, about five miles from Colonel Van Vetchen's, cunningly
concealing themselves there. Robberies in that neighbourhood became
frequent, and several persons were carried off. General Stark, then in
command of the barracks north of Fish Creek, was active and vigilant;
and hearing that Lovelace and his men had robbed General Schuyler's
house, and were planning to carry off Colonel Van Vetchen, frustrated
their design by furnishing the Colonel with a guard. Then Captain
Dunham, who commanded a company of militia in the neighbourhood,
hearing of the plans and doings of the marauders, at once summoned
his lieutenant, ensign, orderly, and one private to his house. They
laid their plans, waited till dark, then set out for the big swamp,
which was three miles distant. There they separated to reconnoitre,
and two of them were lost; but the other three kept together, and
at dawn came upon the hiding-place of the Tory robbers. They were
up, and just drawing on their stockings. The three Americans crawled
cautiously toward them till quite near, then sprang upon a log with a
shout, levelled their muskets, and Dunham called out, 'Surrender, or
you are all dead men!' The robbers, thinking the Americans were upon
them in force, surrendered at once, coming out one at a time without
their arms, and were marched off to General Stark's camp, and given
up to him as prisoners. They were tried by a court-martial as spies,
traitors, and robbers; and Lovelace, who was considered too dangerous
to be allowed to escape, was condemned to be hanged. He complained that
his sentence was unjust, and that he should be treated as a prisoner
of war; but his claim was disallowed, and he was hanged here amid a
violent storm of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning."
"They hung him as a spy, did they, sir?" asked Max.
"As a spy and murderer. He was both; and," pointing out the precise
spot, "after his execution he was buried here in a standing posture."
"And his bones are lying right under here are they, sir?" asked Lulu,
shuddering as she glanced down at the spot the gentleman had indicated.
"No," was the reply; "his bones, and even his teeth, have been carried
off as relics."
"Ugh! to want such things as those for relics!" Lulu exclaimed in a
tone of emphatic disgust.
"They are certainly not such relics as I would care to have," returned
the gentleman, with a smile. Then he told the Captain he had shown them
everything he had which could be called a souvenir of the Revolutionary
War, and with hearty thanks they took their leave.