XV.

[51]Sir Henry Clintonthen commanded at New York, under the orders of Sir William Howe. Not having received orders to assist Burgoyne in any event, until he was about to engage with Washington for the possession of Philadelphia, Howe turned over the matter of assisting Burgoyne to Clinton, who was compelled to wait for the arrival of fresh troops, then on the way from England, before he could organize an expedition to attack our posts inthe Highlands of the Hudson. See Introduction; also Note 1, "Facing Disaster" (p. 60).

[52]General Simon Frazerwas of Scotch birth, younger son of Frazer of Balnain. His actual rank on joining Burgoyne was lieutenant-colonel, 24th foot. With other field officers assigned to command brigades, he was made acting brigadier, and is therefore known as General Frazer, though Burgoyne was notified that thislocal rankwould cease when his army joined Sir William Howe. Frazer's remains were disinterred and taken to England. The spot where he was wounded is marked by a monument, and indicates where he endeavored to make a stand after being driven from his first position. Anburey and Madame Riedesel give graphic accounts of his death and burial.

Burgoyne had been everywhere foiled by the battle of the seventh. Instead of turning Gates's flank his own had been turned. Instead of thrusting Gates back upon the river, he would surely be forced there himself, in a few hours, at most. Instead, even, of dealing Gates such a blow as would favor a retreat, Burgoyne's situation was now more precarious than ever: it was more than precarious; it was next to hopeless.

It is again but too plain that Burgoyne had not taken defeat—such a defeat—seriously into account, or he would never have led out that gallant little column of fifteen hundred men; first, for victory, then, for an honorable retreat. His army was now like the wounded lion, whose expiring struggles the hunter watches at a distance, without fear, and without danger. All had been lost but honor.

The first and only thing to be done now was promptly to form a new line of defence, behind which the army could mask its retreat. This was skilfully and quietly done on the night after the battle, our troops not attempting to do more than hold the ground already won. In the morning they occupied the deserted works.

THE RETREAT TO SARATOGA.THE RETREAT TO SARATOGA.

THE RETREAT TO SARATOGA.

Burgoyne's new position stretched along the heights next the river, so as to cover the road to Saratoga. He had merely drawn back his centre and right, while his left wing remained stationary; and he now stood facing west, instead of south, as before the battle.

Oct. 8.

The day passed in skirmishing, reconnoitring, and artillery firing. The Americans were feeling their way along the enemy's new front, while Burgoyne's every effort was limited to keeping them at a distance, with his superior artillery, till night. On our side, his intentions were rather guessed than certainly known. His great problem was how to get his army over the Hudson undiscovered. It was supposed that he would attempt to retreat across his bridge as soon as it was dark. Our artillery, therefore, tried to destroy it with shot. Moreover, fourteen hundred men were crossed over to the east bank, and now stood ready to dispute Burgoyne's passage from that side of the river.

At sunset, General Frazer was buried[53]inside a battery, on the brow of the heights, according to his dying wish. Chaplain Brudenell read the burial service, with our balls ploughing up the earth around him, and our cannon thundering the soldier's requiem from camp to camp.

At nine o'clock, the British army began its retreat along the river road, leaving its camp-fires burning behind it; profound silence was enjoined. To avoid confusion, the different corps simply moved off in the order in which they stood on the lines, or by their right. Upon finding that his crossing would be opposed by the troops who had passed over to the east bank,Burgoyne had decided to go back the way he came as far as Saratoga, and on fording the river at that place. Orders were therefore given to destroy the bridge. Just before day, his rearguard set fire to it, and marched off without interference. All the sick and wounded were left behind.

In view of the fact that all of the enemy's movements announced a rapid retreat, the Americans seem to have shown a want of vigor in pushing the advantages they had won by the late battles. This hesitation may be in part accounted for by the other fact that both Arnold and Lincoln were disabled. Lincoln had been wounded while reconnoitring the enemy's right, on the eighth, with a view of passing a force round in his rear. Gates was thus deprived of his most efficient lieutenants at the moment when they were most needed. The British army could hardly have been placed in a more critical position; but, by keeping up a bold front, it managed to extricate itself without the loss of a man.

Oct. 9.

Dovegat, now Coveville.

Rain began falling early the next morning. Burgoyne had marched but six miles, yet dallied till afternoon on the spot where he had halted early in the day. He then saw, to his inexpressible dismay, the same body of Americans[54]whom he had seen opposite his encampment at Stillwater, now marching abreast of him, with the evident design of seizing the Saratoga ford before he could get to it. The road he meant to take was, therefore, already as good as in the enemy's hands.

The discovery that he was being everywhere hemmedin hastened Burgoyne's departure. Much baggage and many wagons and tents were burned, in order that the army might march the faster. Like a ship, laboring with the gale, it was relieving itself of all unnecessary burdens.

Pelted by the storm, in silence, and with downcast looks, the soldiers plodded wearily on, through mud and water, ankle deep. No tap of drum or bugle-call put life into their heavy tread. The sense of defeat and disgrace brooded over the minds of officers and men, as they stole away in darkness and gloom from an enemy for whom they had but lately felt such high disdain. Grief, shame, and indignation were the common lot of high and low. No word was spoken, except when the curt "Forward" of the officers passed along the ranks. All knew instinctively, that this retreat was but the prelude to greater disaster, which, perchance, was not far off.

The same evening, the bedraggled and footsore soldiers waded the Fishkill[55]where the bridge had been, but was now destroyed, and bivouacked on the heights of Saratoga.[56]Too weary even to light fires, to dry their clothing, or cook their suppers, they threw themselves on the wet ground to snatch a few hours' sleep; for, dark as it was, and though rain fell in torrents, the firing heard at intervals throughout the night told them that the Americans were dogging their footsteps, and would soon be up with them. It seemed as if the foe were never to be shaken off.

Oct. 10.

It was not till after daylight that the British artillerycould ford the Fishkill with safety. The guns were then dragged up the heights and once more pointed toward the advancing enemy. Numbness and torpor seem to have pervaded the whole movement thus far. Now it was that Frazer's loss was most bitterly deplored, for he had often pledged himself to bring off the army in safety, should a retreat become necessary. He had marked out, and intrenched this very position, in which the army now found its last retreat. Almost twenty-four hours had been consumed in marching not quite ten miles, or at a much slower rate of progress than Burgoyne had censured Breyman for making to Baum's relief, at Bennington. Burgoyne seemed to find satisfaction in showing that he would not be hurried.

The army took up its old positions along the heights into which the Fishkill cuts deeply, as it runs to the Hudson. Being threatened in front, flank, and rear, Burgoyne had to form three separate camps, facing as many different ways. One fronted the Fishkill and commanded the usual fording-place. A second looked east at the enemy posted across the Hudson; a third faced the west, where the ground rose above the camps, and hid itself in a thick forest.

Though he secured his camps as well as he could, Burgoyne meant to make no delay here. But it was no longer in his power to control his own acts. The want of energy shown in the retreat had given the Americans time to close every avenue of escape against him.

Let us note how the fate of armies is decided. Active pursuit did not begin until the morning of the ninth, when the retreat was first discovered. A start of ten hours had thus been gained by the British. Their artillery had so cut up the roads as to render them next to impassable for our troops. Frequent halts had to be made to mend broken bridges. From these causes, even so late as the morning of the tenth, our army had advanced but three miles from the battle-ground. But Burgoyne had marched, when he marched at all, like a general who means to be overtaken. Four thousand men were being pushed around his right; an equal number followed in his rear; while fourteen hundred more menaced with destruction any attempt he might make to ford the river.

No choice being left but to continue the retreat by the west bank, pioneers were sent out, under a strong escort, to make the road passable.

But the golden moment had already flown. By this time Gates's van had come up with Burgoyne. Morgan's corps had crossed the Fishkill at a point above the British camps, had taken post within rifle-shot, and had thus fastened upon the enemy a grip never more to be shaken off.

As a last resort, the British general decided to attempt a night retreat, leaving behind the artillery he had so persistently dragged after him when the fate of his army was hanging on its speed alone. Before this desperate venture could be put to trial, worse news came to hand. It was learned that Stark, with twothousand men, was in possession of Fort Edward, and of all the fords below it. Turn what way he would, Burgoyne found a foe in his path.

Oct. 13.

Even General Burgoyne now saw no way open but surrender; either he must do this, or let his soldiers be slaughtered where they stood. Cannon and rifle shot were searching every corner of his camp; retreat was cut off; his provisions could be made to last but a day or two longer at most; the bateaux were destroyed; his animals were dying of starvation, and their dead bodies tainting the air his soldiers breathed; water could only be had at the risk of life or limb, as the American sharpshooters picked off every one who attempted to fetch it from the river; and no more than thirty-five hundred men could be mustered to repel an assault;—a crisis had now been reached which loudly called on the British general, in the name of humanity, to desist from further efforts to maintain so hopeless a struggle.

Burgoyne called his officers together in council. The absence of such men as Frazer, Baum, Breyman, Ackland, Clarke, and others from the meeting, must have brought home to the commanding general, as nothing else could, a sense of the calamities that had befallen him; while the faces of the survivors no less ominously prefigured those to come. A heavy cannonade was in progress. Even while the council was deliberating, a cannon-ball crashed through the room among them, as if to enjoin haste in bringing the proceedings to a close. The council listened to what was alreadybut too well known. Already the finger of fate pointed undeviatingly to the inevitable result. A general lassitude had fallen upon the spirits of the soldiers. The situation was manifestly hopeless to all.

There could be but one opinion. Enough had been done for honor. All were agreed that only a surrender could save the army.

Oct. 14.

Without more delay, an officer was sent to General Gates. At first he would listen only to an unconditional surrender. This was indignantly rejected. Two days of suspense followed to both armies. Indeed, the vanquished seemed dictating terms to the conqueror. But if the British dreaded a renewal of hostilities, the Americans knew that Clinton's forces[57]were nearing Albany from below. Gates lowered his demands. The British army was allowed the honors of war, with liberty to return to England, on condition of not serving against the United States during the war. These terms were agreed to, and the treaty was duly signed on the seventeenth.

Burgoyne's situation when gathering up his trophies, and issuing his presumptuous proclamation at Ticonderoga, compared with the straits to which his reverses had now brought him—a failure before his king and country, a captain stripped of his laurels by the hand he professed to despise, a petitioner for the clemency of his conqueror—affords a striking example of the uncertain chances of war. It really seemed as if fortune had only raised Burgoyne the higher in order that his fall might be the more destructive at last.

WHERE THE SURRENDER TOOK PLACE.WHERE THE SURRENDER TOOK PLACE.

WHERE THE SURRENDER TOOK PLACE.

[53]Frazer's Burialwould not have been molested had our artillerists known what was going forward. Seeing so many persons collected in the redoubt, they naturally directed their fire upon it.

[54]This Body of Americanswas led by Colonel John Fellows, whom Gates had ordered to seize the fords as high up as Fort Edward.

[55]Fishkill, or Fish Creek, is the outlet of Saratoga Lake. Though a rapid mill-stream, there were several fords. The precipitous banks were a greater obstacle to troops than the stream itself.

[56]Heights of Saratogaare in what is now called Schuylerville, a village owing its prosperity to the water-power of the Fishkill. At the time of the surrender, there were only a few houses strung along the river road. Schuyler's house stood in the angle formed by the entrance of the Fishkill into the Hudson. On arriving at Saratoga, Burgoyne occupied this house as his headquarters, but burned it to the ground immediately on the appearance of the Americans. On the opposite (north) bank of the Fishkill was old Fort Hardy, built during the French War, to cover the ford of the Hudson at this place. Within this fort, Burgoyne's army laid down its arms, October 17, 1777. On the heights back of the river a granite obelisk, one hundred and fifty-four feet high, has been built to commemorate the event.

[57]Clinton's Forcescarried Forts Montgomery and Clinton, in the Highlands, by assault on the sixth. Having thus broken down all opposition to their advance up the Hudson, they reached Kingston (Esopus) on the thirteenth, burned it, and were within a few hours' sail of Albany when news of Burgoyne's surrender caused them to retreat down the river.

The closing scene of this most memorable campaign is thus described by one of the actors in it. He says,—

"About ten o'clock we marched out, according to treaty, with drums beating, and the honors of war; but the drums seemed to have lost their former inspiriting sounds, and though we beat the Grenadiers' March, which not long before was so animating, yet now it seemed by its last feeble effort as if almost ashamed to be heard on such an occasion.

"I shall never forget the appearance of the American troops on our marching past them. A dead silence reigned through their numerous columns. I must say their decent behavior to us, so greatly fallen, merited the utmost praise.... Not one of them was uniformly clad. Each had on the clothes he wore in the fields, the church, or the tavern; they stood, however, like soldiers, well arranged, and with a military air, in which there was but little to find fault with. All the muskets had bayonets, and the sharpshooters had rifles. The men all stood so still that we were filled with wonder. Not one of them made a single motion as if he would speak with his neighbor. Nay, more, all the lads thatstood there in rank and file, kind nature had formed so trim, so slender, so nervous, that it was a pleasure to look at them, and we were all surprised at the sight of such a handsome, well-formed race. The whole nation has a natural turn for war and a soldier's life.

"The generals wore uniforms, and belts which designated their rank, but most of the colonels were in their ordinary clothes, with a musket and bayonet in hand, and a cartridge-box or powder-horn slung over the shoulder. There were regular regiments which, for want of time or cloth, were not yet equipped in uniform. These had standards, with various emblems and mottoes, some of which had a very satirical meaning for us."

The number of regular troops, British and German, who laid down their arms at Saratoga was 5,591. The camp-followers amounted to two hundred more. Forty-two pieces of artillery, nearly five thousand muskets, with ammunition for both, fell into the victors' hands.

We come now to the reasons why Burgoyne's surrender proved decisive to the cause of American independence.

Our opening chapter states that England took Canada from France in 1759, and annexed it to her own dominions in 1763. This conquest came about through what is known in history as the Seven Years' War, which had not only raised all Europe in arms, but had lighted the flames of war throughout our own continent also. The great battle was fought on the plains of Quebec. Victory decided for England. Defeated France had, at last, to give up Canada to her ancient enemy.

France came out of this conflict sorely humbled. She was brooding over her defeat, when the American colonies took up arms. The colonists at once turned with confidence to France; now was her chance to cripple England, to get back what she had lost, to gain the friendship of a grateful people, and make them her debtor for all time. But France would not go to war unless assured that her doing so would turn the scale against England. The memory of her humiliation was too recent, the chances of the contest too doubtful, to admit of any other course of conduct on her part.Meanwhile, she gave us much secret help, but none openly. The course of events was, however, closely watched, and when Burgoyne's surrender was known in Paris, it was seen that the day of revenge had come at last. Doubt and hesitation gave way before the general demand for war. Franklin was openly received at Versailles. Within three months, the French court had acknowledged our independence. Her armies and fleets prepared to give us active aid, and it was not doubted that her example would soon be followed by Spain and Holland.

Thus, Burgoyne's surrender gained for us at once recognition as a nation, and the alliance of the first military power of Europe.

The effect of the surrender in England is thus described by Gibbon, the historian, who was then sitting in Parliament: "Dreadful news indeed! An English army of nearly ten thousand men laid down their arms, and surrendered, prisoners of war, on condition of being sent to England, and of never serving against America. They had fought bravely, and were three days without eating. Burgoyne is said to have received three wounds; General Frazer, with two thousand men, killed; Colonel Ackland likewise killed. A general cry for peace."

England now gave up the colonies for lost. In truth, it needed no prophet to foretell that what England could not do before, she could do still less now, with France against her. From this time forward, the war was carried on more to save the nation's pride thanwith any hope of success. The military policy underwent an instant change; it now looked rather to destroying our commerce and ports, than to marching large armies into the interior of the country, to meet with a like fate to Burgoyne's. Howe was ordered to evacuate Philadelphia. In Parliament, a plan was hurriedly put forth to grant everything the Americans had asked for, except independence. As Gibbon well said, the two greatest countries of Europe were fairly running a race for the favor of America.

The movements taking place on the continent showed everywhere a feeling hostile to England. No nation was ever so friendless as she, none had so richly deserved the coldness with which the other powers now treated her. Spain and Holland were getting ready to follow the lead of France. It was well known that England could not carry on the war without the aid of mercenaries. The King of Prussia and the Empress of Austria now refused to permit any more German soldiers to go to America. In the threatening condition of affairs at home, England could not spare another army for so distant a field. Whichever way England looked, she saw either open enemies or half friends. Everywhere the sky was dark for her, and bright for us.

At home the surrender of Burgoyne thrilled the whole land, for all felt it to be the harbinger of final triumph. The people went wild with joy; salvos of artillery, toasts, bonfires, illuminations, everywhere testified to the general exultation. The name of Francewas hailed with acclamations. At once a sense of national dignity and solidity took the place of uncertainty and isolation. Now and henceforth, the flag of the United States was known and respected; abroad as at home, on the sea as on the land.

Burgoyne's disaster has been charged to the grossest carelessness on the part of some under official of the British War Office. It is said that the orders for Sir William Howe were never put in the despatch bag at all, but lay forgotten until the catastrophe at Saratoga brought them to light. On such trifles does the fate of nations sometimes hang. Certainly, greater unity of purpose in the two generals might have given the history of the campaign a different reading. But all such conjectures must fall before the inexorable logic of accomplished results. The world has long since passed upon the merits of the great conflict which set America free. Its verdict is recorded. The actors are but as dust in the balance.

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