Hessians in the Rev. War - Chapters XI-XIV



CHAPTER XI.
BARONESS RIEDESEL'S JOURNEY, 1776 AND 1777.

The Baroness Riedesel had started to join her husband, bringing with her 
her three little daughters, of whom the oldest was but four years and nine 
months old, and the youngest an infant of ten weeks. The journey from 
Germany to Canada in those days was no light matter, nor was it free from 
imaginary as well as actual perils. "Not only did people tell me of the 
dangers of the sea," writes Frau von Riedesel, "but they also said that we 
must take care not to be eaten by the savages, and that people in America 
lived on horseflesh and cats. But all this frightened me less than the 
thought of coming to a land where I did not understand the language. 
However, I had made up my mind to everything, and the idea of following my 
husband and doing my duty held me up through the whole course of my 
journey."

The baroness left Wolfenbuttel, near Brunswick, on the 14th of May, 1776, 
and travelled by Calais to England. "At Maestricht I was warned to be on 
my guard, because the roads were very unsafe on account of highwaymen. A 
hundred and thirty of these had been hanged, or otherwise executed, in the 
course of the last fortnight, but there were more than four times as many 
still about. When taken they were immediately strung up without further 
ceremony on the roads and at the places where they plied their trade. This 
news frightened me very much, and I made up my mind not to travel at 
night; but, as I got very bad horses, I had to go through a wood about 
dusk, where something that was hanging struck against me through the open 
window of the carriage. I took hold of it, and, feeling something rough, 
asked what it was. It was a hanged man, with woollen stockings. While I 
was still startled at this, my anxiety was much increased as we drew up 
before a lonely house in this same wood, and the postilions refused to 
drive any farther. The place was called Hune. I shall never forget it! A 
man of rather suspicious appearance received us, and led us into a room in 
a very retired part of the house, where I found only one bed.

"It was cold, so I had a fire made in a great fireplace. Our whole supper 
was composed of tea and very coarse bread. My faithful Rockel [her old 
servant] came to me with a very anxious face and said: 'Things aren't 
right here! There's a big room full of fire-arms. I think the other people 
are out. They are certainly rogues. But I'll sit up all night in front of 
your chamber with my gun, and will sell my life dearly. The other servant 
shall sit in the carriage, also with his gun.' All this, naturally, did 
not make my sleep peaceful. I sat on a chair and laid my head on the bed. 
Yet, at last I fell asleep, and how great was my joy on waking, at about 
four in the morning, to have them come and tell me that all was ready for 
us to travel on. I then put my head out of the window, and listened to a 
number of nightingales in the wood in which we were, whose pleasant song 
made me forget my past anxiety."

Such were the discomforts of travelling on the Continent a hundred years 
ago. We shall see presently what disagreeable adventures awaited 
foreigners in England. The baroness crossed safely from Calais to Dover, 
and posted to London. The innkeeper in Calais had told her that it would 
not be safe for her to travel alone, and, after a great pretence of 
seeking, had introduced a man to her, whom he represented to be a 
gentleman, who had consented to act as her escort. This man accompanied 
her to London, where she was lodged in the fourth story of an inn, though 
she had asked for good rooms. In her narrative she says: "The next day the 
innkeeper came to me with a shamefaced expression, and asked me very 
respectfully if I knew the person with whom I had come, and of whom I had 
told him to take such good care (for I had considered it improper to let 
him eat with me in London). I told him it was a gentleman who, at the 
request of Mr. Guilhaudin, mine host in Calais, had been so considerate as 
to accompany me on my journey. 'Ha!' answered he, 'it is one of his 
tricks. It's a hired servant, an arrant swindler, whom he employs to carry 
on his business, and when I saw you sitting in the carriage with this 
fellow, as you arrived, I must acknowledge that I did not believe you were 
the person that you gave yourself out for, and therefore thought these 
rooms would be good enough for you. As I now see, from the people that 
come to visit you, that I made a mistake, I humbly beg your pardon, and 
entreat you to take other rooms, for which you shall pay me no more than 
for these, so much do I wish to make good my error.' I thanked him, and 
begged him to get rid of the person for me as soon as possible; yet the 
man demanded four or six guineas (I don't remember now exactly how much) 
for his company."

Baroness Riedesel had found acquaintances in London, and among others 
Schlieffen, the Minister of the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, the man who had 
made the largest bargain for the sale of German troops to England. She 
went somewhat into society, but was much kept at home by the care of her 
infant daughter. "One day," she writes, "I had an unpleasant adventure in 
London. I had been advised to buy a little cloak and a hat, without which 
I could not go out. I was dining at the house of Herr von Hinuber, the 
Hanoverian Minister. His wife proposed to me to take a walk to St. 
James's, but omitted to tell me what in our dress was contrary to the 
English fashion. Little Augusta was dressed in French style, and wore a 
little hoop and a pretty little round hat. I noticed that people were 
almost pointing their fingers at us, and asked the cause. She [Frau von 
Hinuber] told me that I had a fan, which ought not to be carried with a 
hat, and that my little girl was overdressed, so that we were taken for 
French people, who were not in favor here.

"The next day I went there again, and we were all dressed in the English 
fashion, so I thought that no one would notice us; but I was mistaken, for 
I heard them again calling out, 'Frenchwomen! Pretty girl!' I asked the 
servant why we were taken for French people, and was told it was because I 
had put ribbons on the children. I tore them off and put them in my 
pocket, but people still stared at me, and I heard that it was on account 
of the hats, which children in England wore of another shape. I saw from 
this how necessary it was to conform to the fashion of the country in 
order to be comfortable there, for the mob collects at once, and if you 
let yourself be drawn into bandying words with it, you are insulted."

A few days later the baroness went to Bristol. She writes: "The day after 
I arrived my hostess called me to see a pretty sight (as she expressed 
it). When I stepped to the window I saw two naked men who were boxing with 
great fury. I saw their blood flow, and the rage in their eyes. 
Unaccustomed to so ugly a spectacle, I drew back as quickly as possible to 
the most retired corner of the house, so as not to hear the cries of joy 
which the spectators gave when one of the men received a blow. I had an 
unpleasant adventure during my stay in Bristol. I wore a chintz dress 
trimmed with green taffetas. This must have appeared too foreign to the 
Bristol people, for when I went out one day to walk with Mrs. Foy, more 
than a hundred sailors, gathered together, pointed their fingers at me and 
called out 'French -----!' I flew as quickly as I could into the house of 
a shopkeeper and made a pretext of buying something there; meanwhile the 
crowd dispersed. But this disgusted me with my dress, and when I got home 
again I gave it to my cook, although it was quite new."

Frau von Riedesel spent ten months in England. Her husband had told her 
not to travel without the company of a lady, and had recommended Mrs. Foy, 
above mentioned, who was also to join her husband in Canada. This lady 
kept the baroness waiting all through the summer of 1776, and at last 
absolutely refused to go. It was late in the autumn, and Baroness Riedesel 
was advised not to attempt the passage, as she might find the St. Lawrence 
blocked with ice. She therefore returned to London, where she found good 
lodgings among kind people, and spent the following winter. The care of 
her children forced her to lead a quiet life. She was presented at court, 
however, of which ceremony she gives the following account: "I was advised 
to go to court, as the queen had expressed a wish to see me. So I had a 
court dress made, and Lady George Germaine presented me. It was on New 
Year's Day, 1777. 1 thought the palace very ugly and very old-fashioned in 
its furniture. The ladies and gentlemen all took their places in the 
audience chamber; then the king, who had three gentlemen walking in front 
of him, came into the room. The queen followed, with one lady holding her 
train, and a gentleman in waiting. The king went round to the right and 
the queen to the left. Neither of them passes any one without speaking to 
him. At the end of the chamber they meet, make each other a low bow and 
courtesy, and each goes where the other has come from. I asked Lady 
Germaine what I should do, and whether the king kissed all the ladies, as 
I had heard he did. 'No,' answered she, 'only the Englishwomen and the 
marchionesses,' and there was nothing to do but to stand still in your 
place. Now, when the king came up to me I was much astonished to have him 
kiss me, and I blushed scarlet, because I was not expecting it. He 
immediately asked me whether I had received letters from my husband. I 
answered, 'Yes, of the 22d of November.' 'He is well,' answered he; I I 
have inquired expressly about him; every one is pleased with him, and I 
hope the cold will do him no harm.' I answered that I hoped and believed 
that he would not feel the cold so much, as he was born in a cold climate. 
'I hope so too,' said he, 'but I can assure you of this, that the air 
there is very healthy and clear.' Thereupon he made me a pleasant bow and 
went on. When he was gone I said to Lady Germaine that I was now 
naturalized, since the king had kissed me.

"Afterwards came the queen, who was also very kind to me, and asked if I 
had been long in London. I said, two months. 'I thought it was longer,' 
answered she. I answered, in London only so long, but in England already 
seven months. She asked whether I liked it here. I said yes, but that I 
much wished to be in Canada. - 'Are you, then, not afraid of the sea?' she 
then asked; 'I don't like it at all.' - ' Nor I either,' I replied,' only 
there is no other way to see my husband again, and I shall travel with 
friends.' - ' I admire your courage, 'said she, 'for it is a great 
undertaking and very difficult, particularly with three children.'

"I saw, from this conversation, that she had already heard of me, and I 
was therefore glad that I had gone to court. After the ceremony I saw all 
the royal children, but one who was sick. There were ten of them, and I 
thought them all beautiful.

"I went again several times, as I had been so well received. When I took 
leave of the queen in the spring, before going to Portsmouth to embark, 
she asked me again if I were not afraid of so terrible a journey, and when 
I answered that, as my husband wanted me to follow him, I did so with 
courage and pleasure, because I thought I was doing my duty, and I was 
sure that she, in my place, would do the same' she said to me: 'Yes, but 
as I am told, you are making the journey without your husband's 
knowledge.' I answered, that as she was a German princess she must know 
that without my husband's consent I could not have undertaken this, 
because I should not have had the money. 'You are right,' said she; 'I 
approve of your determination, and wish you all imaginable good-fortune. 
What is the name of your ship? I shall often inquire after you, and hope 
that you will visit me on your return.' - She kept her word, and often 
inquired after me, and often sent me polite messages.

Baroness Riedesel embarked on a packet-ship on the 15th of April, 1777, in 
company with a fleet of thirty transports, under convoy of two ships of 
war. She arrived in Quebec on the 11th of June, after an uneventful 
voyage. Spending only half a day in Quebec, the indomitable woman, with 
her three little daughters, pressed on over rough roads and stormy rivers 
to Chambly, where, at last, on the 14th of June, she met her husband. They 
could spend but two happy days together, for the army was in motion, and 
the baroness was obliged to return to Trois Rivieres. On the 14th of 
August, however, she again joined the army, whose subsequent fate she 
shared. I will give but one more of her adventures before returning to the 
consideration of the military operations of the Brunswick contingent.

The baroness had set out from Trois Rivieres to join her husband at Fort 
Edward, on the Hudson. The party travelled in two boats, one of which 
carried the baggage. She writes: "Night overtook us and we saw ourselves 
obliged to land on an island. The other boat, which was heavier laden and 
not so well manned, had not been able to keep up with us; so we had 
neither beds nor light, and, worst of all, nothing to eat; for we had 
brought no more in our boat than we had expected to use during the day, 
and found nothing on this island but the four bare walls of a deserted 
and, indeed, never finished house, full of boughs, on which we made our 
camp. I covered them with our cloaks and took the cushions from the boat 
to help us out, so that we slept very well.

"I could not persuade Captain Willoe to come into the hut with us, and saw 
that he was very uneasy, which I could not understand. Meanwhile, I 
noticed a soldier who was setting a pot on the fire. I asked him what he 
had in it. 'Potatoes, which I brought with me.' I looked wistfully at him; 
he had so few that I thought it cruel to rob him of them, particularly as 
he looked so happy over them. At last the desire to give my children some 
conquered my modesty, so I asked and got half, which may have been, at 
most, a dozen. Thereupon he pulled two or three candle-ends out of his 
pocket, which made me very happy, because the children were afraid to stay 
in the dark. I gave him a big thaler for it all, which made him as happy 
as I was. Meanwhile, I heard Captain Willoe give orders to make fires 
around the building and to keep guard all night about it. I also heard 
them making noises all through the night, which interfered a little with 
my sleep. Next morning, at breakfast (which I took on a broad rock which 
served us for a table), I asked the captain the cause of the noise. He 
informed me that we had been in great danger, inasmuch as this island was 
the Ile aux Sonnettes, so called from the number of rattlesnakes on it; 
that he had not known of this, and had been very much alarmed when he 
heard it, but had not dared to venture going farther in the night on 
account of the current. He had, therefore, nothing to do but to build 
large fires and make a great deal of noise in order to frighten the snakes 
away. But he had not been able to close his eyes the whole night from 
anxiety on our account. I was much alarmed at this story, and remarked to 
him that our danger had been greatly increased by lying on the boughs in 
which the snakes like to hide. He agreed with me, and said that if he had 
known sooner where we were, he would have had all the boughs taken away, 
or have begged us rather to stay in the bark. He had first learned it, 
however, from one of the people in our other boat, which had followed us 
later. In the morning we found skins and slime of these nasty beasts all 
about, and hurried through our breakfast as quickly as possible." 
(Baroness Riedesel's "Berufs Reise nach America.")



CHAPTER XII.
TICONDEROGA AND BENNINGTON, JULY AND AUGUST, 1777.

The operations in Canada and on Lake Champlain, during the summer and 
autumn of 1776, had been conducted by Sir Guy Carleton, the British 
governor of the province. Generals Burgoyne and Phillips and General 
Riedesel had served under his orders. For the campaign Of 1777, however, a 
new arrangement was made by the English ministry. Carleton retained the 
governorship and the command of the army in Canada, but the expedition 
which was to pass beyond the boundaries of the province, and to oppose the 
rebels in New York and New England, was intrusted to Burgoyne.

Lieutenant-general John Burgoyne was at this time fifty-five years of age. 
Lord Macaulay describes him as "a man of wit, fashion, and honor, an 
agreeable dramatic writer, an officer whose courage was never questioned, 
and whose skill was at that time highly esteemed." (Essay on Lord Clive.) 
The time spoken of was but shortly previous to the American war.

Burgoyne was a favorite with the British ministry. He was not a favorite 
with General Riedesel, nor with that general's wife. Riedesel got on very 
well with Carleton, but had no faith in Burgoyne, who was probably too 
much a man of pleasure and of wit to win the confidence of the seriously-
minded German officer. Riedesel complains that he was never consulted, and 
that Burgoyne's plans were not confided to him. It is plain that there was 
jealousy between the English and German troops, and that Riedesel felt 
that injustice was being done to himself and to his command.

The plan of operations, of which the main features were made out by 
Burgoyne himself, was very simple. The main body of the army was to 
advance from Canada up Lake Champlain to Ticonderoga. When that fort 
should have been taken, the army was to push still southward to Albany, 
where it was to meet the army of Sir William Howe, or a part thereof, 
coming up from New York. A body of light troops, under Colonel St. Leger, 
was to co-operate with Burgoyne, marching by Oswego to the Mohawk River, 
which it was to follow to its junction with the Hudson, above Albany, at 
which point this expedition was to unite with the main army.

The Brunswickers under General Riedesel's orders on the 1st of June, 1777, 
numbered four thousand three hundred and one officers and men on the 
rolls, with an effective strength of three thousand nine hundred and fifty-
eight (Eelking's Life of Riedesel, vol. ii. p. 90, n.) The Hesse-Hanau 
regiment had sailed in the previous year, six hundred and sixty-eight 
strong, and had probably not fallen below six hundred men fit for service. 
This would make the total number of Germans in Canada at the opening of 
the campaign four thousand five hundred and fifty-eight men, of whom six 
hundred and sixty-seven were left under the command of Sir Guy Carleton, 
and three thousand eight hundred and ninety-one accompanied the expedition 
under Burgoyne. This estimate does not include the Hanau chasseurs who 
were attached to St. Leger's expedition. The total number of white men 
under Burgoyne was greater than eight thousand, about two hundred and 
fifty of these being Provincials.

Some five hundred Indians accompanied the army, and at first did good 
service as scouts, and exhibited to their humane employers the scalps of 
American soldiers. The sight found favor in the eyes of the fashionable 
gentleman who commanded his majesty's army. He issued an order that 
deserters from his own force should be caught and scalped likewise. The 
savages were thought to have carried their amiable customs too far when 
they killed Jane McCrea, a young woman betrothed to a Tory with the 
British army, who had been intrusted to the protection and guidance of two 
of them. Burgoyne, however, did not venture to execute the murderer, for 
fear of "the total defection of the Indians."

Before the establishment of railways had changed the lines of travel, the 
principal highway between Canada, on the one hand, and New England and the 
more southern colonies, on the other, was the great water route, which, 
leaving the St. Lawrence at Lake St. Pierre, led up the Richelieu River, 
past Fort St. John, to Lake Champlain, and up Lake Champlain, past Crown 
Point, to Ticonderoga. At Ticonderoga a choice of two ways lay before the 
traveller, or the invader. He might cross the short portage to Lake 
George, pass up that beautiful lake to its head, and make a portage of 
twelve miles to Fort Edward, on the Hudson. This was the usual and the 
easier way. Or he might follow the narrow upper end of Lake Champlain to 
the site of the modern Whitehall, in the old district called 
Skenesborough, and make a longer portage to Fort Edward by Fort Anne. From 
Fort Edward the way lay down the Hudson to Albany and New York. The 
general direction of the route is north and south, and remarkably 
straight, considering that it follows the great natural features of the 
country. The whole distance from Lake St. Pierre to New York is a little 
more than three hundred and fifty miles. Whitehall lies about midway 
between them, and Ticonderoga some twenty miles north of Whitehall.

No point between the St. Lawrence and New York was considered more 
important from a military point of view than Fort Ticonderoga. - This was 
so placed as to protect the portage from Lake Champlain to Lake George, 
and to command the passage to the southern extremity of the former lake. 
The fort was built by the French in 1755, and called by them Fort 
Carillon. It was improved by Montcalm in the following year, and in 1758 
withstood the attack of an English army of fifteen thousand men, the 
largest body of Europeans which had yet been assembled under arms in 
America. General Abercrombie, who commanded the English army, so 
mismanaged his attack that his force was repulsed with great slaughter.

In 1759 the French abandoned Fort Carillon on the approach of General 
Amherst, who repaired the works. These were now held for nearly sixteen 
years by the British, unmolested, until the small garrison was surprised, 
and the fort seized, on the 10th of May, 1776, by a party of Americans 
under Ethan Allen, "in the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental 
Congress." During the two years that the fort had been in American hands, 
great pains had been taken to strengthen it, and it was most liberally 
supplied with guns, ammunition, and provisions. A new fort had also been 
constructed on the east side of the lake, at Mount Independence. The 
Americans would seem to have overshot the mark in the greatness of their 
preparations. The works, two miles and a half in length, were much too 
large for the garrison. Moreover, the fort could be completely commanded 
by artillery on Mount Defiance, a hill which was not included in the lines.

The result of these errors was disastrous. On the 1st of July, 1777, 
Burgoyne's army appeared before the fortress. Riedesel, with the Germans, 
was on the east shore of the lake operating against Mount Independence. 
But little fighting took place. St. Clair, the American commander, seeing 
himself in danger of being surrounded, retreated, with the garrison of 
about thirty-three hundred men, leaving the forts with more than seventy 
cannon, two hundred head of cattle, and a great store of ammunition and 
provisions, to fall into the hands of the British army. The remnants of 
the American fleet, which fled in the direction of Whitehall, were 
presently followed by the British, who had only been delayed by the 
necessity of breaking through the bridge and boom which had been built 
across the lake. Two of the five vessels were captured, and three burned 
by the retreating Americans, who thus lost all the material they had 
endeavored to save.

The main body of St. Clair's force retreated by the road to Hubbardton. It 
was closely followed by General Fraser with twenty companies of 
Englishmen, supported by Riedesel with three Brunswick battalions. Fraser 
came up with the rear-guard of the Americans, under Colonel Warner, at 
Hubbardton, on the 7th of July, was sharply attacked, and outflanked. He 
was in danger of being driven back when Riedesel came to his assistance. 
The Americans were repulsed. Their loss is not exactly known, but about 
two hundred stragglers and wounded men were that day made prisoners. The 
Brunswickers had twenty-two men killed or wounded, the British one hundred 
and fifty-five. This was the first engagement in the open field which 
Riedesel saw in America.

On the 8th of July a British regiment was driven back from Fort Anne, but 
the Americans promptly abandoned that fort also, leaving it in ruins.

On the 22d of July General von Riedesel issued an order against marauding, 
and threatened all soldiers who should be guilty of it with a beating for 
the first offense and with running the gantlet four times for the second 
offense. Officers were to decide what was lawful booty. Riedesel issued 
this order at the request of Burgoyne, who wished to encourage the Tory 
colonists of the neighborhood. The days when it would be possible for the 
Brunswickers to plunder in America were, however, almost past.

So rough was the country between Lake Champlain and the Hudson that it 
took Burgoyne a month to bring his army the twenty-five miles which lay 
between Whitehall and Fort Edward. "The toil of the march was great, but 
supported with the utmost alacrity," writes Burgoyne to Lord George 
Germaine on the 30th of July, 1777. "The country being a wilderness, in 
almost every part of the passage the enemy took the means of cutting large 
timber trees on both sides the roads so as to fall across and lengthways 
with the branches interwoven. The troops had not only layers of them to 
remove in places where it was impossible to take any other direction, but 
also they had above forty bridges to construct and others to repair, one 
of which was of logwood, over a morass two miles in extent." (De 
Fonblanque's "Burgoyne," p. 268.) We find a letter from Burgoyne to 
Riedesel, on the 18th of July, exhorting the latter to make his officers 
cut down the amount of their baggage. Many English officers, says 
Burgoyne, are reduced to a small tent and a knapsack (Eelking's
"Riedesel", vol. iii. p. 259.)

The army met with little serious opposition on the way, though scarcely a 
day passed without firing. The Americans had retreated to Saratoga. Yet it 
was not until the 9th of August that Brigadier-general Fraser led the 
advance guard to Fort Miller, seven miles beyond Fort Edward. He was 
followed by Lieutenant-colonel Baum, with the Brunswick dismounted 
dragoons and light infantry, some Canadian volunteers, and two small 
cannon. It had at first been proposed by Riedesel, and agreed to by 
Burgoyne, that Baum's force should make an expedition into the Connecticut 
Valley in search of horses and draught cattle. The Duke of Brunswick's 
regiment of dragoons was thus to be mounted at the expense of the 
Americans, and the British army was to be provided with pack-horses. To 
understand the pressing need of beasts of burden we must remember that the 
army was then eating bread made of English flour, and beef salted in 
England, and that these provisions had to be brought from Lake Champlain, 
or Lake George, to the Hudson on men's backs. The plan was, however, 
changed before the column had passed Fort Miller, and instead of marching 
on Manchester, the expedition was sent to Bennington, where the Americans 
were supposed to have a large supply of stores. Riedesel took the liberty 
of remonstrating against this change of destination, but Burgoyne held to 
it on the following grounds: First, it would be of the greatest benefit to 
the army to live for ten or twelve days on the stores they might capture 
at Bennington. Second, he (Burgoyne) meant to advance on Stillwater with 
the main army, so that Arnold would not be able to send a strong 
detachment to oppose Baum. Third, he had heard that St. Leger was 
besieging Fort Stanwix, on the upper waters of the Mohawk River, and it 
was important to prevent Arnold from detaching a strong corps for the 
relief of that place. So Lieutenant-colonel Baum started off on the 11th 
of August, 1777, on his march towards Bennington, in command of about five 
hundred and fifty white men, of whom three hundred and seventy-four were 
Germans. About one hundred and fifty Indians accompanied the expedition. 
This did not satisfy the Tory who served as guide. He told Burgoyne that 
at least three thousand men would be necessary to insure success, but 
Burgoyne would not, and, indeed, could not, spare so many (It is 
impossible to determine the exact numbers of Englishmen and Provincials. 
They were "the select corps of British marksmen, a party of French 
Canadians, a more numerous party of Provincial loyalists." - Bancroft, 
vol. ix. p. 383. Compare also Eelking's "Riedesel," vol. ii. pp. 127, 132; 
Schlozer's "Briefwechsel," Vol. iii. p. 36; Eelking's "Hulfstruppen," vol. 
i. p. 279, where the whole force, including Indians, is set at only five 
hundred and fifty-one. Notice that the composition of the corps was 
modified between August 9th and 11th.)

On the 12th Baum captured some stores and cattle at Cambridge.

On the morning of the 14th he found some stores at Sancoik and took five 
prisoners. He reported to Burgoyne that there were fifteen or eighteen 
hundred men at Bennington, but that they would probably leave it on his 
approach. He would proceed so far as to fall on the enemy early the next 
day, and make such disposition as he should think necessary, from the 
intelligence which he should receive. People were flocking in hourly and 
wanted to be armed. The Indians could not be controlled, and ruined and 
took everything they pleased (Coburn's "Centennial History of the Battle 
of Bennington," where the letter is given (probably a translation). It is 
dated "Sancoik, Aug. 14, 1777, 9 o'clock" (presumably nine A.M.)) Baum, 
who could not talk English, apparently relied on the assurances of the 
Tory governor, Skene, who would seem to have been a very credulous 
personage. 

Burgoyne would appear not to have entirely shared in the delusions of his 
subordinate, for he sent back orders not to advance should Baum find the 
enemy too strongly posted, and maintaining such a countenance as to make a 
coup de main hazardous (Sparks, "Correspondence of the American
Revolution," vol. ii. p. 518.) Later in the same day Baum sent another 
report, stating that he had been attacked by a rebel force of seven 
hundred men, and had driven them back with a few cannon-shots, but that 
there were eighteen hundred men in a well-placed, fortified camp near 
Bennington, and that he would wait for reinforcements. This report reached 
Burgoyne during the night, and at eight in the morning of the 15th he 
ordered Lieutenant-colonel Breymann, with six hundred and forty-two German 
soldiers, to march to Baum's support. Breymann started off without tents 
or baggage or sufficient ammunition, and only two small field-pieces. He 
had only twenty-four miles to go, yet he made but little more than half 
the distance before he encamped for the night. The day was rainy and the 
road was bad, yet such slowness in a party of soldiers in light marching 
order going to the relief of their brothers in arms seems incredible. I 
have found no complete description of the uniform of the Brunswick 
infantry. Riedesel had introduced some modifications in it, to adapt it to 
the service and the climate, but it was still far too heavy. A large part 
of Baum's men were dismounted dragoons. They were armed with short, thick 
rifles and big sabres. It was said in the army that the hat and sword 
alone weighed more than the whole equipment of an English soldier. A man 
thus armed might be formidable on horseback on a level parade-ground, but 
afoot, in August, in a carttrack through the thick woods, he was hardly a 
match for an American farmer and hunter in his shirt-sleeves.

It is clear that no one, not even Baum himself, had realized the 
seriousness of that officer's situation. In the middle of the morning of 
the 15 th Burgoyne wrote that if a retreat were necessary it must be so 
conducted as to give the enemy no opportunity for triumph, otherwise the 
Indians might be discouraged. Therefore, all captured cattle and wagons 
must be brought off, and any flour and corn that could not be carried away 
must be destroyed (Eelking, "Riedesel" vol. iii. p. 261.) It was not until 
afterwards that Burgoyne suggested that Breymann might have pushed on 
without his artillery.

Lieutenant-colonel Baum spent the 15th of August, 1777, in intrenching 
himself on a hill about four miles north of Bennington. About nine o'clock 
on the morning of the 16th he noticed small bodies of men, mostly in their 
shirt-sleeves and with fowling-pieces on their shoulders, passing quickly 
and quietly behind his intrenched camp. The good officer took these shirt-
sleeved fellows for Tories seeking his protection. It is said that many 
people in that part of the country had taken the oath to the king. In the 
course of the morning an attack was made and easily repulsed. At last, 
about three in the afternoon, the Germans were completely surrounded, and 
the battle began in good earnest. Most of the Indians, Canadians, and 
Tories made good their escape. The Brunswickers held out for an hour or 
two, until their ammunition began to fail. The Americans fought with 
desperation. They rushed to within eight paces of the cannon that were 
loaded with grape-shot, and discharged their rifles at the artillerymen. 
Stark, who commanded them, had inspired them with his own spirit. "Come 
on, my lads," he is reported to have said before the battle, "we shall 
either beat the British, or Molly Stark will be a widow this night." At 
last the fire of the Germans slackened. The Yankees rushed again on the 
intrenchments. It was gunstock against sabre. Baum fell, mortally wounded, 
and the Brunswickers were taken.

The battle with Baum's soldiers was over when Breymann arrived in the 
neighborhood of the field. He says that he drove the Americans before him, 
and only stopped pursuing them for want of powder and shot; but certain it 
is that he presently fell back, and made off in the night without his 
cannon, having lost more than one third of his men. General Burgoyne, who 
received word of these misfortunes early in the morning of the 17th, 
started at six o'clock, with the whole army, to save Breymann. The main 
body advanced, however, no farther than the Battenkill, while Burgoyne 
himself, at the head of an English regiment, pushed on until he met the 
retreating Germans.

Nearly seven hundred prisoners, of whom about four hundred were Germans, 
fell into the hands of the Americans. Of Baum's command, three hundred and 
sixty-five Germans did not return to camp; of Breymann's two hundred and 
thirty-one were killed, wounded, and missing.

This battle was the beginning of the end for Burgoyne, though he did not 
know it at the time. It proved the impossibility of living on the country, 
and sent him back to his English beef and flour, and his dependence on the 
provisions he could carry with him (For German accounts of the Battle of 
Bennnington and the events that led thereto, see Riedesel's report to the 
Duke of Brunswick and subsequent justification of his own part in the 
misfortune; Breymann's report to Burgoyne, lists of losses, with many 
other interesting documents in Eelking's "Riedesel," vol. iii. pp. 184-
197, 210-214 and 261. See also Schlozer's "Briefwechsel," vol. iii. pp. 35-
42.)

The failure of St. Leger's expedition to the Mohawk occurred about this 
time. Colonel St. Leger had left Montreal in the early part of July, in 
command of about seven hundred and fifty white men and one thousand 
Indians. Among the former was a company of chasseurs from Hesse-Hanau. 
This force made its way by the St. Lawrence and Lake Ontario to Oswego, 
and then by Oneida Lake to Fort Stanwix, on the upper waters of the Mohawk 
River. This fort was a well-constructed earthwork, manned by some six or 
seven hundred militia, under Colonel Gansevoort. St. Leger was to take the 
fort and then follow the Mohawk towards its junction with the Hudson, thus 
threatening the flank of Gates's army. But the fort would not be taken. 
About eight hundred inhabitants of the Mohawk Valley, mostly of German 
extraction, under General Herkimer (In German Nikolaus Herckheimer) were 
advancing to its relief. These were surprised on the 6th of August, 1777, 
in the woods, by an overwhelming force of Provincials and Indians. After 
the first panic a desperate fight took place. The militia well knew that 
from their savage foes they could expect no quarter. It was better to fall 
beneath the arrow, or the tomahawk, than to be reserved for the torturing 
knife. Herkimer, who had been wounded in the leg, was propped against the 
trunk of a tree, and directed the defense, puffing meanwhile at his pipe. 
The men were set in pairs behind the trees, that each might defend the 
other while he was loading. This plan worked well, and the militia began 
to get the advantage. A party of Tories from the valley itself came to the 
assistance of the Indians. This inflamed still more the wrath of the 
Americans, for these new enemies were their neighbors and had been their 
friends. The desperate battle continued. It had lasted more than an hour 
and a half, and one hundred and sixty of the militia had been killed, 
wounded, or taken, when firing was heard in the direction of Fort Stanwix. 
Colonel Gansevoort, informed of Herkimer's approach, had sent two hundred 
and fifty men from the fort to effect a diversion. These fell upon the 
English camp and pillaged a part of it. Five flags and much baggage fell 
into the hands of the party from the fort. On hearing the cannon behind 
them, the Tories and Indians feared lest they should be taken between two 
fires. They made off, taking some prisoners with them to undergo the 
horrors of Indian torture, but leaving many dead upon the field. What 
remained of the militia retreated to Fort Schuyler, where now the city of 
Utica stands. This sanguinary affair is called the Battle of Oriskany. It 
settled the fate of St. Leger's expedition, and contributed, with 
Bennington, to determine that of Burgoyne and of the Brunswickers. These 
two small engagements form a turning-point in American history (A company 
of Hessian (Hanau) chasseurs accompanied St. Leger to Fort Stanwix. I have 
not found any journal of this company. A second company arrived at Oswego, 
August 26th, 1777, only in time to hear that St. Leger had retreated. The 
report of the officer commanding this company is in the Archives at 
Marburg. From it we learn that the first company lost most of its tents 
and baggage. For the Battle of Oriskany, see Kapp's "Deutschen im Staate 
New York.")

The brave Herkimer died of his wounds ten days after the battle. But less 
than a week after that time, Benedict Arnold, bringing with him a small 
force, and again assembling the militia of the valley, raised the siege of 
Fort Stanwix, and St. Leger, abandoned by many of his Indians, made off 
with the remnant of his force to Oswego, leaving his tents and "a 
considerable baggage." (Arnold to Gates, August 23d, 1777; Sparks, 
"Correspondence of the American Revolution." vol. ii. p. 519.)

Burgoyne was somewhat discouraged at the failures of Baum and St. Leger, 
but he still relied on help to, come from the southward, and felt bound by 
the orders he had received from England.



CHAPTER XIII.
STILLWATER, SEPTEMBER 19TH AND OCTOBER 7TH, 1777.

For nearly a month after his defeat at Bennington Burgoyne remained in the 
neighborhood of Fort Edward and behind the line of the Battenkill. The 
time was employed in bringing up stores and in transporting boats from 
Lake Champlain and Lake George. On the 13th of September, 1777, the army 
crossed the Hudson at Schuylerville, and abandoned its line of 
communications to make a bold stroke for Albany and a junction with Sir 
William Howe. One hundred and eighty boats, which had been hauled across 
the carries, attended the march of the army, whose left flank rested on 
the Hudson. These boats carried one month's provisions. "Now we went to 
work again at our dear salt pork and flour," writes a German officer. 
"Dear friends, do not despise these royal dishes, which really cost a 
royal price then and there, for the transportation from England must have 
been not a little expensive. Pork at noon, pork at night, pork cold, pork 
warm. Friends! although with your green peas and crabs' tails you would 
have looked with loathing at our pork, yet pork was to us a lordly dish, 
without which we should have starved; and had we afterwards had pork 
enough, our ill-luck might not have brought us to Boston." (Schlozer's
"Briefwechsel," vol. iv. p. 346.) Meanwhile, the Americans, encouraged by 
their victory at Bennington, and by their successes in the Mohawk Valley, 
were pouring into Gates's camp at Stillwater. They were without uniforms, 
but were for the most part well armed with the rifles and fowling-pieces 
they had constantly used since boyhood. It was reported to Burgoyne on the 
7th of September that there were fourteen or fifteen thousand of them. 
There was no alternative, however, but to attack them or to abandon the 
campaign.

The army set out on its southward march in three columns. The right was 
under Brigadier-general Fraser, the dashing commander of the light troops. 
The centre was commanded by Burgoyne himself, and the left, near the 
Hudson, by Riedesel. The British army advanced slowly, repairing roads and 
bridges. The rate of march barely averaged two miles a day. On the 
afternoon of the 19th of September Burgoyne's central division was sharply 
attacked on Freeman's Farm, north of Stillwater. The English, with a few 
guns, occupied a clearing. The Americans had no artillery. The fight 
lasted all the afternoon, and was conducted on both sides with great 
valor. Towards nightfall, Riedesel, with seven companies of German 
infantry and two cannon, advanced to Burgoyne's assistance, and attacked 
the right flank of the Americans, pouring in grape-shot. The English 
rallied and charged, and the Americans fell back, carrying off their 
wounded, and about one hundred prisoners. They had lost about three 
hundred and twenty men in the battle, and the British not far from twice 
that number. The latter retained possession of the ground, and may, 
therefore, fairly claim a victory; but it was a barren victory, which they 
were never able to follow up. On the 20th, Burgoyne began to intrench his 
position. His chance of success henceforth lay in cooperation from the 
southward - a help which never came.

The Germans rendered most important services to Burgoyne in the course of 
this day. Breymann, with the grenadiers and light infantry, distinguished 
himself early in the afternoon, by coming to the relief of an English 
regiment which was falling back. Captain Pausch of the Hanau artillery, 
with his two six-pounders, and Riedesel with his seven companies, finally 
turned the tide of battle. Both Breymann and Pausch were publicly thanked 
by Burgoyne.

Meanwhile the rear of the army had been seriously threatened. Colonel 
Brown, acting under the orders of General Lincoln, had taken some of the 
outer works of Ticonderoga, with nearly three hundred prisoners, but had 
been repulsed from the main fortress.

Baroness Riedesel had accompanied the army on its march. She had been 
encouraged, she says, when they crossed the Hudson, at hearing General 
Burgoyne say that Englishmen never retreat. Her distrust had been excited, 
however, by finding that the officers' wives with the army knew of all 
expeditions which were planned, and she remembered that in Prince 
Ferdinand's army, in the Seven Years' War, everything was kept very 
secret. But now the Americans knew all plans beforehand, and expected the 
English wherever they went.

Frau von Riedesel was an eye-witness of the battle of the 19th of 
September, trembling at every shot for the safety of her husband. Three 
wounded officers were brought into the house where she lodged, and one of 
them, the nephew of people who had been kind to her in England, died, a 
few days later, in the next room to hers, while undergoing an operation. 
The baroness could hear his last sighs through the thin partition 
(Baroness Riedesel, pp. 164-166.)

The condition of the army was fast becoming serious. Provisions were 
scarce, wine and coffee terribly dear. Uniforms and clothing were torn on 
the bushes, and soaked with camping on the damp ground, and new ones were 
not to be had at any price (Schlozer's "Briefwechsel," vol. iv. p. 350.) 
The American camp, supposed to contain twelve thousand men, was so near 
that the drums and the shouts of the soldiers could be distinctly heard. 
The woods were so thick, however, that it could not be seen. The English 
had constructed a bridge of boats across the Hudson, and scouts were sent 
out to try to see the American camp from the other side of the river, but 
in this they were not successful (Pausch's narrative.)

A letter written in cipher arrived from Sir Henry Clinton on the 21st of 
September, dated on the 10th of that month. Clinton announced his 
intention of attacking Fort Montgomery, on the Hudson, in ten days 
(Burgoyne's Report, given in Eelking's "Riedesel," vol. ii. p. 197.) 
Burgoyne immediately sent back the messenger with a letter enclosed in a 
silver bullet, which was to be delivered into Sir Henry's own hands. The 
letter urged Clinton to hasten his advance and create a diversion in 
Burgoyne's favor. The messenger made his way through the hostile country 
to Fort Montgomery, but here his presence of mind would seem to have 
deserted him. He is said to have mistaken American troops for English, to 
have inquired for General Clinton, and not to have discovered his blunder 
until he was brought into the presence, not of Sir Henry, but of the 
American General Clinton. The man then swallowed the bullet, but an emetic 
was administered, the despatch was found, and the messenger hanged as a 
spy (There were two American generals named Clinton - George, governor of 
New York, and James, his brother. The former was at this time stationed at 
Fort Clinton, the latter at Fort Montgomery. These forts were taken on the 
6th of October by Sir Henry Clinton.)

On the 6th of October, Forts Clinton and Montgomery were stormed by Sir 
Henry Clinton. One Anspach regiment, one Hessian regiment, and two 
companies of Hessian chasseurs, which last had lately arrived from Europe, 
took part in this feat. The Hudson was thrown open to the British. This 
would have been the time to push on to Burgoyne's relief, but Sir William 
Howe had led the larger part of his army to Philadelphia, and only a small 
expedition, under General Vaughan, came burning and plundering up the 
Hudson.

Burgoyne's situation was becoming daily more critical. On the 4th of 
October one third was cut off from the soldiers' rations. Desertions had 
become frequent, in spite of severe punishments; even the death penalty 
did not prevent them. Skirmishes were of frequent occurrence. The weather 
was frightfully hot, and the army was wasting away in inaction.

On the day on which the men were put on short rations, General Burgoyne 
called a council of war. Generals Phillips, Riedesel, and Fraser were 
present. Burgoyne proposed to them to leave the neighborhood of the river 
and try to turn the American left flank. Eight hundred men were to be left 
to guard the boats and stores; the rest of the army was to take part in 
the expedition. It was objected that the roads and the position of the 
Americans were both unknown, that three or four days would be necessary to 
turn the American flank, and that during all this time the stores must be 
left under a feeble guard. No conclusion was reached on the 4th, and a 
second council was called for the evening of the 5th. At this council 
Riedesel declared his opinion that the army was in such a condition that 
unless the enemy could be reached and forced to fight a decisive action in 
one day, it would be better to fall back across the Hudson and wait behind 
the Battenkill for General Clinton's approach. Here the army could not be 
cut off from Fort George. Fraser agreed with Riedesel. Phillips would give 
no decided opinion, and Burgoyne, loath to retreat, declared he would make 
a reconnaissance on the 7th, and that if this should show that the enemy 
was not to be successfully attacked, he would fall back.

On the 6th of October, 1777, four days' rations were served out, and on 
the 7th, about ten in the morning, fifteen hundred men, of whom about five 
hundred were Germans, marched out for the reconnaissance, with eight brass 
cannon and two howitzers. The four generals were with the party, which was 
made up from all the regiments in the army. They advanced into a clearing 
about three quarters of a mile from the American left flank - a wretched 
position, according to Riedesel, where they could see nothing of the enemy 
(Riedesel's comments of Burgoyne's report; Eelking's "Riedesel," Vol. ii. 
p. 206.) Brigadier-general Fraser commanded on the right of the line, the 
German detachments were in the centre (Under Lieutenant-colonel von Speth 
or Colonel Specht. There is curious confusion in the authorities about 
this name), Major Ackland, with the English grenadiers, on the left. It 
was determined to await an attack, and Brigadier-general Fraser undertook 
to carry off the forage from two barns in the neighborhood. Small 
detachments of the enemy appeared from time to time, and the party "amused 
themselves" by firing cannon at them, until suddenly a heavy fire of 
musketry was heard on the left, and presently Ackland's grenadiers came 
running in, leaving their commander wounded behind them.

The German left flank was thus uncovered and thrown back in confusion, and 
the Hessian cannon exposed. These continued for some time in action, but 
were finally taken. The British right seems to have held out longer than 
the rest of the line, but after a while General Fraser was mortally 
wounded and his men were driven back, though in better order than the left 
flank had preserved. The Germans also retreated, in some confusion, and 
all the cannon with the reconnaissance were left behind.

The retreating party threw themselves into a redoubt and maintained their 
position for the rest of the afternoon, in spite of the repeated and 
desperate attacks of the Americans.

Lieutenant-colonel Breymann held a small redoubt on the extreme right of 
the position of the army. His corps had been reduced by the losses 
sustained at Bennington and on the 19th of September to about five hundred 
men, and three hundred of these had made part of the reconnaissance, and 
were now driven back with the rest of the soldiers of that party into the 
large redoubt of the right wing. The part of the British line which 
connected Breymann's redoubt with the main position was also cleared of 
men. The Americans made their way through this gap in the line, Breymann 
and his two hundred men were attacked in flank and rear, the lieutenant-
colonel was shot dead, and the men were put to flight or taken prisoners.

When news of this reached the main body, some of the Englishmen grumbled 
at the conduct of their German allies. Angry at this, Lieutenant-colonel 
von Speth got together four officers and about fifty men, and started off 
through the dark woods to retake Breymann's redoubt. He lost his way and 
was led by a treacherous guide into the hands of the Americans (Riedesel's 
comments on Burgoyne's report; Eelking's "Riedesel," vol. ii. p. 208. 
Burgoyne says that be gave orders to retake Breymann's redoubt, but 
mentions no further particulars.)

The Americans fought on this day with great valor, and had the advantage 
of superior numbers, but were without a competent general. Neither Gates 
nor Lincoln appeared on the field. Benedict Arnold, who had no proper 
command, fought with his usual reckless courage, but had not the talent of 
a strategist. He was severely wounded in the capture of Breymann's 
redoubt. It would have been fortunate for him had the wound proved mortal.

Nothing was left for Burgoyne's army but to retreat. Promptitude might, 
perhaps, still have secured its escape, but on every side were disorder 
and delay. Early in the morning of the 8th of October, 1777, the British 
and Germans were drawn together on the heights that overlook the Hudson. 
Here, on the evening of that day, General Fraser was buried, in a spot 
which he had himself chosen as his last resting-place. He had been 
brought, mortally wounded, into the house occupied by Baroness Riedesel, 
with whose husband he had served in the Seven Years' War. The Baroness had 
expected to give a little dinner-party on the 7th. "General Fraser," she 
says, "and, I believe, also Generals Burgoyne and Phillips, were to have 
dined with me on that day. I saw a great deal of movement among the 
troops. My husband told me that a reconnaissance was to be made, which did 
not astonish me, as this had often occurred. On my way home I met a great 
many Indians, in their war dress and carrying guns. I asked where they 
were going, and they shouted 'War! War!' which meant that they were going 
to battle; and this quite overcame me. I had hardly recovered when I heard 
skirmishing, and then the firing became heavier and heavier, until at last 
the noise was frightful. It was a terrible cannonade, and I was more dead 
than alive. About three in the afternoon, instead of my guests coming to 
dinner, they brought me one of them, poor General Fraser, on a stretcher, 
mortally wounded. Our dinner-table, which had already been set, was taken 
away, and a bed for the general put in its place. I sat in a corner of the 
room, trembling. The noise kept growing louder. The thought that they 
might bring me my husband in the same condition was horrible to me, and 
tormented me incessantly. The general said to the surgeon, 'Conceal 
nothing from me! Must I die?' . . . I often heard him exclaim, with a 
sigh. 'Oh, bad ambition! poor General Burgoyne! poor Mistress Fraser!'" 
(Sic. - The Baroness gives these last words in English; Baroness Riedesel, 
p. 169.)

The general lingered through the night and died on the following morning. 
So crowded was the house that the baroness had to remove her children into 
the passageway that they might not cry out and disturb the dying man. His 
corpse lay all day in her room. As his staff and the general officers of 
the army gathered about his grave, the Americans, ignorant of their 
purpose, directed artillery against them. Thus, with the hostile cannon 
firing his last salute, the gallant leader of the light troops was laid to 
rest.

At ten o'clock on the night of the 8th the army set out northward. 
Riedesel commanded the head of the column. The hospital, with its eight 
hundred inmates was left behind. The boats, with what remained of stores, 
made their way slowly up stream. The watch fires were left burning to 
deceive the vigilance of the Americans.

General Burgoyne's army made but a short march that night, and then halted 
until the following afternoon. On the evening of the 9th the British 
occupied the village of Saratoga. During the night they forded the 
Fishkill and encamped on rising ground in the angle between that stream 
and the Hudson. Thus, from the evening of the 7th to the morning of the 
10th Burgoyne, to whom time was of capital importance, had retreated but a 
little over eight miles.



CHAPTER XIV.
SARATOGA, OCTOBER 11TH TO 16TH, 1777.

At the camp north of the Fishkill Burgoyne halted, and never resumed his 
march. Lieutenant-colonel Southerland was sent forward to build a bridge 
across the Hudson near Fort Edward, but was presently recalled. At 
daybreak on the 11th a brigade of Americans made a dash across the 
Fishkill, seized all the boats and much of the stores, took a few 
prisoners, and retreated before a brisk fire of grape-shot. All day long 
the English army was cannonaded from front and rear.

In the evening General Burgoyne summoned Generals Riedesel and Phillips to 
consult with him on the situation of the army. Burgoyne himself held it 
impossible to attack the enemy, or to maintain his own position if 
attacked in the centre or on the right wing. General Riedesel thereupon 
proposed to retreat in the night, abandoning the baggage, fording the 
Hudson four miles below Fort Edward, and making through the woods for Fort 
George. No decision was reached, however.

Another council was held on the following afternoon, two brigadier-
generals being admitted to it. General Riedesel insisted on his plan of 
the day before, "very emphatically, and with hard words," and the plan was 
agreed to. As it appeared that rations had not been given out to the 
troops, the movement was postponed until late in the evening. At ten 
o'clock Riedesel sent word to Burgoyne that all was ready, but was 
answered that it was too late to undertake anything. Thus was the last 
chance thrown away, for on the next morning the army was completely 
surrounded.

On the 13th of October a third council of war was called, including the 
regimental commanders. General Burgoyne explained the hopelessness of the 
situation. Only five days' provisions were left. The whole of the British 
camp could be reached by the American grape-shot and rifle bullets. 
Gates's army was drawn up behind a marshy ravine, so far from the Hudson 
that if Burgoyne were to move out to attack it the Americans could cross 
the river and take him in the rear. Even should the enemy be successfully 
attacked and defeated there were not enough provisions remaining for the 
march to Fort George. The position in which the army now stood could not 
be defended in the centre or on the right wing. (This was the part of the 
ground principally occupied by the Germans.)

Burgoyne declared that no one but himself was responsible for the 
situation of the army, as he had asked no advice and only expected 
obedience. Riedesel thanked Burgoyne for his declaration, which made it 
clear to all that he (Riedesel) had had no share in planning the movements 
of the army, and he called on the English officers present to bear witness 
to this, if ever he were called to account.

Burgoyne then laid the following questions before the council:

1st. Whether there were examples in the history of war that an army in 
this condition had capitulated.

2d. Whether in such a condition a capitulation were dishonorable.

3d. If this army were really in a condition where it must capitulate.

To the first question all answered that the condition of the Saxon army 
near Pirna, of General Fink near Maxen, and of Prince Maurice of Saxony, 
had not been so bad nor so helpless as that in which this army now was; 
and that nobody had been able to blame the generals who had capitulated 
under such circumstances, in order to save their armies; only that the 
King of Prussia had cashiered General Fink; but that was done from 
personal disfavor.

To the second question all answered that for the reasons above given the 
capitulation could not be dishonorable. And as to the third question, all 
were agreed that if General Burgoyne saw the possibility of attacking the 
enemy they were ready to sacrifice their blood and their lives; but if 
this were not feasible they held it better to save the troops for the 
king, by an honorable capitulation, than to hold out longer and run the 
danger of having to surrender at discretion after exhausting all their 
provisions, or to be attacked in their bad position and scattered, and 
then destroyed in detail.

General Burgoyne thereupon produced the draft of a capitulation, the terms 
of which seemed favorable, and were unanimously approved of by his 
officers.

A drummer was then sent over to the American camp to announce that on the 
next day a staff officer would be sent to discuss matters of importance 
with General Gates; and to ask for a truce in the meanwhile. This General 
Gates granted.

About ten o'clock in the morning of the 14th of October Colonel Kingston 
was sent over to the American camp with Burgoyne's proposals, which were 
in substance that his army should yield themselves prisoners of war, but 
under condition that they should be taken to Boston and thence shipped to 
England, agreeing not to serve against the Americans during the war, 
unless previously exchanged.

General Gates did not accept these proposals, but drew up another form of 
capitulation, in six articles, setting forth that "General Burgoyne's army 
being reduced by repeated defeats, by desertion, sickness, etc., their 
provisions exhausted, their military horses, tents, and baggage taken or 
destroyed, their retreat cut off, and their camp invested, they can only 
be allowed to surrender as prisoners of war."

The sixth article provided that "these terms being agreed to and signed, 
the troops under his Excellency's, General Burgoyne's command, may be 
drawn up in their encampments, where they will be ordered to ground their 
arms, and may thereupon be marched to the river side on their way to 
Bennington." (De Fonblanque's "Burgoyne," pp. 306, 307.)

General Burgoyne hereupon called the council of war together and read them 
the above proposals. The officers declared unanimously that they would 
rather die of hunger than accept such dishonorable terms.

Colonel Kingston was sent back to tell General Gates that if he did not 
mean to recede from the sixth article, the negotiations must end at once; 
the army would to a man proceed to any act of desperation sooner than 
submit to that article. Hereupon the truce came to a close.

Every one in the army was astonished when new proposals were received from 
General Gates on the following morning (October 15th, 1777). The terms 
asked for by Burgoyne were substantially granted, but it was stipulated 
that the conquered army should leave its position by two o'clock on the 
same day (Gates was undoubtedly influenced by news of Vaughan's expedition 
up the Hudson.)

This sudden change excited the suspicion of the English and German 
officers. The council of war determined to accept Gates's proposal, but to 
try to gain time. Commissioners were appointed on both sides, and the 
discussion of details continued until eleven o'clock at night. The 
Americans granted all that was demanded of them. The Englishmen on their 
side promised that General Burgoyne should sign the articles and send them 
to General Gates in the morning. The truce was to continue.

On the same night a deserter came in and announced that there was a rumor 
that Sir Henry Clinton had not only taken the forts in the Highlands, but 
had advanced a week ago to Esopus, and was probably at Albany by this 
time. Burgoyne and some of his officers were so much encouraged by this 
news that they were strongly tempted to refuse to surrender. The council 
of war was called together to answer the following questions:

1st. Whether a treaty finally arranged by commissioners with full powers, 
which the general had promised to sign as soon as commissioners should 
have removed all difficulties, could honorably be broken?

2d. Whether the news received was sufficiently certain to be a motive for 
breaking off an agreement which, considering the position, was so 
favorable? and

3d. Whether the army was in sufficiently good spirits to defend its 
present position to the last man?

On the first of these questions fourteen officers, against eight, were of 
opinion that the agreement could not honorably be broken off. As to the 
second, opinions were divided. Those who answered in the negative argued 
that the deserter was speaking only from hearsay, and that even if Sir 
Henry Clinton were at Esopus, the distance thence was so great that his 
approach could not help the army in its present condition. To the third 
question all officers from the left wing answered in the affirmative, but 
those from the centre and right said that although their soldiers would 
fight with great valor if led against the enemy, yet they were so well 
aware of the weakness of their position, that they might not do as well if 
attacked. As the Brunswick troops principally occupied the centre and 
right of the line, it is to this declaration of their officers that 
Burgoyne probably refers when he speaks in a private letter of "the 
Germans dispirited, and ready to club their arms at the first fire." (De 
Fonblanque's "Burgoyne," p. 315.)

Still hoping to gain time, Burgoyne tried one pretext more. He wrote on 
the morning of the 16th to General Gates, saying that he had heard from 
deserters that that general had sent off a considerable part of his army 
to Albany during the negotiations; that this was contrary to good faith, 
and that he, Burgoyne, would not sign the capitulation until an officer of 
his staff should have inspected the American army to assure himself that 
it was three or four times as large as the English. Gates seems at last to 
have grown tired of this fooling. He sent back word that his army was 
quite as strong as it had been, and had moreover received reinforcements; 
that he held it neither politic nor for his honor, to show his army to one 
of General Burgoyne's officers; and that that general had better think 
twice what he did, before breaking his word, as he would be held 
responsible for the consequences. Gates added that he was ready to show 
General Burgoyne his whole army as soon as the articles of capitulation 
should be signed, and he assured him that it was four times as large as 
the British, without counting that part of it which was beyond the Hudson. 
He was unwilling, however, to wait more than an hour for an answer, and at 
the end of that time should be forced to take the most severe measures.


SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE

The council was summoned for the last time, and no one was found to advise 
the general to break his word. Burgoyne called Phillips and Riedesel aside 
and begged for their friendly counsel. Both were silent for a time, and 
then Riedesel explained that if Burgoyne were held responsible in England, 
it could only be for the movements that had brought the army into such a 
position, and perhaps for first undertaking a capitulation, and because he 
had not retreated in time to be master of the line of communications with 
Fort George. But now, after all the steps that had been taken, Riedesel 
held it much more dangerous to break the agreement, on the strength of an 
uncertain and untrustworthy rumor.

Brigadier-general Hamilton, who came up and was asked his opinion, agreed 
with Riedesel. General Phillips only said that things had come to such a 
pass that he had no advice nor help to give. Burgoyne, after much 
vacillation, determined to sign, and the articles in due form were sent to 
General Gates (The above description of the negotiations for the surrender 
is taken principally from Baroness Riedesel's book, in which is given an 
extract from a military memoir dated Stillwater, October 18th, 1777, and 
signed by several of the principal German officers. See also, concerning 
this memoir, Eelking's "Riedesel," Vol. ii. pp. 210, 2 11.)

In the surrender five thousand seven hundred and ninety-one men were 
included. It is stated by Riedesel that not more than four thousand of 
these were fit for duty. The number of Germans surrendering is set down by 
Eelking at two thousand four hundred and thirty-one men, and of Germans 
killed, wounded, and missing down to October 6, at one thousand one 
hundred and twenty-two (It will be noticed that the time from October 6th 
to October 16th, during which there was a good deal of fighting, is 
omitted from the above estimate. See Eelking's "Hulfstruppen," vol. i. pp. 
321,322; "Riedesel," vol. ii. p. 188.) The total loss of the British and 
their mercenaries, in killed, wounded, prisoners, and deserters, during 
the campaign, including those lost in St. Leger's expedition to the Mohawk 
and those who surrendered on terms at Saratoga, was not far from nine 
thousand.

The days that preceded the surrender had been days of confusion. Baroness 
Riedesel says that on the evening of the 9th of October, in Saratoga, when 
they had marched but half an hour during the day, she asked Major-general 
Phillips why they were not moving on while it was yet time. The general 
admired her resolution and wished she were in command of the army. The 
same lady relates that Burgoyne spent half of that critical night in 
drinking and making merry with his mistress.

The army was given over to misery and disorder. On the 10th the baroness 
fed more than thirty officers from her private stores, "for we had a
cook," says she, "who, although a great scoundrel, was equal to every 
emergency, and would often cross little rivers in the night and steal 
mutton, chickens, or pigs from the country people, which he afterwards 
made us pay roundly for, as we subsequently learned." (Baroness Riedesel, 
p. 178.) These supplies were at last exhausted, and the lady, in her 
indignation, called on the adjutant-general, who happened to come in her 
way, to report to Burgoyne the destitution of officers wounded in the 
service. The commander-in-chief took this in good part, came to her in 
person, thanked her for reminding him of his duty, and gave orders that 
provisions should be distributed. The baroness believed that Burgoyne 
never in his heart forgave her interference. It seems to me, from the 
writings of both, that spite lay rather in her bosom and her husband's 
than in that of Burgoyne. The memorandum which General Riedesel wrote and 
caused to be signed by his officers immediately after the surrender is a 
long impeachment of Burgoyne, and sets forth the evil consequences of his 
not consulting the writer, or of not executing the latter's plans 
promptly. It is clear that Riedesel held Burgoyne responsible for the 
misfortunes of the army, misfortunes which he himself took so deeply to 
heart that his health and spirits were for a long time seriously affected. 
Before leaving America, in the spring Of 1778, Burgoyne wrote to the Duke 
of Brunswick, praising Riedesel's intelligence and the manner in which he 
had executed the orders of his superior officer (De Fonblanque's
"Burgoyne," p.331. See also Riedesel's order to the German troops 
expressing Burgoyne's satisfaction with them, - Eelking's "Hulfstruppen," 
vol. i. p. 341.) Upon this Riedesel wrote a most friendly letter to 
Burgoyne, thanking him in his own name and that of his officers for the 
kindness which the commanding general had shown to them. "If good fortune 
did not crown your labors," he continues, "we know well that it was not 
your fault, and that this army was the victim of the reverses of war." 
This solitary expression of confidence is not to be reconciled with what 
Riedesel says at other times and in other places. The military memorandum 
above-mentioned, published in the baroness's book, is sufficient proof of 
this. In the same spirit are conceived Riedesel's comments on Burgoyne's 
report of the campaign. These comments, which were addressed to the Duke 
of Brunswick and his countrymen, are dated Cambridge, April 8th, 1778, a 
little more than a month later than the letter above quoted. They complain 
explicitly that General Burgoyne, while speaking highly of Riedesel 
himself, passes lightly over the services of his troops. The German 
general's complaints in this respect are but slightly justified by 
Burgoyne's report (Eelking's "Riedesel," vol. ii. pp. 193-210. I do not 
make out whether these comments were actually sent to the Duke of 
Brunswick or were found by Eelking among Riedesel's private papers.)

But we must return to the baroness. On the afternoon of the 10th of 
October the Americans began to fire again on the British army. "My husband 
sent me word," she writes, "to go at once to a house which was not far 
off. I got into the carriage with my children. We were just coming up to 
the house when I saw five or six men with guns on the other side of the 
Hudson River, aiming at us. Almost involuntarily I threw, the children 
into the bottom of the carriage, and myself over them. At the same moment 
the fellows fired and shattered the arm of a poor English soldier behind 
me, who was already wounded, and was also retiring into the house. No 
sooner had we arrived than a terrible cannonade began, which was 
principally directed against the house where we had sought shelter; 
probably because the enemy had seen a great many people go in and thought 
the generals must be there. Alas! it was only women and wounded men. We 
were at last compelled to take refuge in a cellar, where I placed myself 
in a corner near the door. My children lay on the ground with their heads 
in my lap. Thus we spent the whole night. A horrible smell, the crying of 
the children, and, more than all these, my anxiety, prevented my closing 
my eyes.

"Next morning the cannonade began again, but from another side. I advised 
everybody to go out of the cellar, and undertook to have it cleaned, as 
otherwise we should all be sick. My advice was followed, and I set many 
hands to work, which was very necessary, as there was much to do...When 
everything had been cleared out, I considered our place of refuge; there 
were three fine cellars, well vaulted. I proposed that the most 
dangerously wounded officers should be put into one, the women in the 
second, and all other persons in the third, which was nearest the door.

"I had had the place well swept out and disinfected with vinegar, and we 
were all beginning to get into our proper places, when the firing began 
again terribly, and created great alarm. Several people who had no right 
to come in threw themselves towards the door. My children had already gone 
down the cellar stairs, and we might all have been smothered, had not God 
given me strength to place myself before the door and bar the entrance 
with outstretched arms; otherwise some of us would certainly have been 
injured. Eleven cannon balls went through the house, and we could clearly 
hear them rolling away above our heads. One poor soldier had been laid on 
the table to have his leg taken off, when a cannon ball came and carried 
away the other. His comrades had all runaway, and when they came back to 
him they found him in a corner of the room, whither he had rolled himself 
in his fear, and hardly breathing. I was more dead than alive, but not so 
much on account of our own danger as for that in which my husband was, who 
yet often sent to ask how we were getting on, and sent me word that he was 
well.

"Major Harnich and his wife, a Madame Rennels, who had already lost her 
husband, the wife of the good lieutenant who had shared his broth so 
kindly with me the day before, the wife of the commissary, and I were the 
only ladies with the army (Sic. This list is intended to include the 
ladies, not the women, whose numbers I have no data for ascertaining. The 
Baroness had two female servants. A soldier's wife is spoken of later. The 
proper names above should be Harnage and Reynell, but all German writers 
during this war are very careless as to the spelling of proper names.) We 
were sitting together and bewailing our sad fate, when some one came in, 
and people whispered in each other's ears and looked sadly at each other. 
I noticed this, and that they were glancing at me, without saying anything 
more to me. This gave me a frightful idea that my husband had fallen. I 
screamed; but they assured me that this was not the case, and made signs 
to me that it was the poor lieutenant's wife whose husband had met with 
this misfortune. She was called out a moment later. Her husband was not 
yet dead, but a cannon ball had taken off his arm at the shoulder. We 
heard his moans all night, echoing horribly through the vaults of the 
cellar, and the poor man died towards morning. Otherwise this night was 
like the last. Meanwhile my husband came to see me, which soothed my 
trouble and gave me back my courage.

"The next morning we began to get into a little better order. Major 
Harnich and his wife and Madame Rennels made themselves a little room, 
shut off with curtains, in one corner. It was proposed to me to have 
another corner arranged in the same way, but I preferred to remain near 
the door, so that I could get out quicker in case of fire. I had a heap of 
straw brought, laid my beds on it, and slept there with my children. My 
women slept near us. Opposite were the quarters of three English officers, 
who were wounded, but yet were resolved not to stay behind in case of a 
retreat. One of them was a Captain Green, aid to General Phillips, a very 
estimable and well-bred man. All three swore to me that in case of a hasty 
retreat they would not abandon me, and that each of them would take one of 
my children on, his horse. One of my husband's horses always stood ready 
saddled for me. My husband was often minded to send me to the Americans, 
in order to get me out of danger. I represented to him that it would be 
worse than all that I now had to suffer, to be with people whom I should 
have to meet with forbearance while my husband was fighting against them. 
He, therefore, promised me that I should continue to follow the army. Yet 
I often became anxious in the night lest he might have marched away, and 
crept out of my cellar to look, and when I had seen the soldiers lying 
about the fires in the cold night, I could sleep more quietly.

"The things that had been intrusted to me caused me great anxiety (Money 
and valuables belonging to various officers.) I had them all in the front 
of my corsets, because I was so afraid of losing some of them and I made 
up my mind not to meddle with such things in future. On the third day I 
got the first opportunity to change my linen, for they had the kindness to 
clear a corner for me for the purpose; meanwhile my three officers above 
mentioned stood sentinel not far off. One of these gentlemen could imitate 
the lowing of a cow and the bleating of a calf very naturally; and when my 
little daughter Fritzchen cried in the night, he made the noises for her, 
which quieted her and made us laugh.

"Our cook procured us food, but we had no water, and I was often obliged 
to drink wine to quench my thirst, and also to give it to the children. It 
was almost the only thing that my husband took; which at last made our 
faithful chasseur Rockel anxious, so that he said to me one day: 'I fear 
that the general is disgusted with life, from apprehension of becoming a 
prisoner; he drinks so much wine.' The continual danger to which my 
husband was exposed kept me in constant anxiety. I was the only one of all 
the women whose husband had not been killed or met with some misfortune; 
and so I often said to myself: 'Shall I be the only fortunate one?' 
especially as my husband was exposed to so much danger, day and night. He 
never passed the night in a tent, but always lay in the open air by a 
watch-fire. That alone might have caused his death, as the nights were so 
cold and damp.

"Our need of water was so great that at last we found a soldier's wife who 
had the courage to bring some from the river; which no man was willing any 
longer to undertake, because the enemy shot all those that went to the 
river through the head. They let the woman alone, out of respect to the 
sex, as they afterwards told us.

"I tried to distract my thoughts by busying myself with our wounded. I 
made them tea and coffee, for which I received a thousand blessings. I 
often shared my dinner with them. One day a Canadian officer came into our 
cellar hardly able to stand. We at last got it out of him that he was 
almost dying of hunger. I was very happy to be able to offer him my food, 
which brought back his strength and won me his friendship. When we 
afterwards returned to Canada, I made the acquaintance of his family. One 
of our greatest troubles was the smell of the wounds when they began to 
fester.

"Once I undertook the cure of Major Plumfield, aide-de-camp to General 
Phillips. A small musketball had gone through both his cheeks, shattered 
his teeth and grazed his tongue. He could not keep anything in his mouth; 
the matter almost choked him, and he could take no nourishment but a 
little broth, or something fluid. We had Rhine wine. I gave him a bottle, 
in hopes that the acid of the wine would cleanse his wound. He constantly 
took a little in his mouth, and that alone did such good service that he 
was healed, by which I gained another friend. And thus, in the midst of my 
hours of trouble and sorrow, I had moments of pleasure that made me very 
happy.

"On one of these sad days General Phillips wished to visit me and 
accompanied my husband, who used to come once or twice every day at the 
peril of his life. He saw our situation, and heard me entreat my husband 
not to leave me behind, in case of a hasty retreat. He, himself, supported 
my cause, when he saw my great repugnance to being in the hands of the 
Americans. On going away he said to my husband: 'No! I would not come here 
again for ten thousand guineas; for my heart is quite, quite broken.'

"Meanwhile, all who were with us did not deserve pity. There were also 
cowards among them, who stayed in the cellar for nothing, and afterwards, 
when we were prisoners, could take their places in the ranks and go on 
parade. We stayed six days in this horrible place. At last they spoke of 
surrender, for they had delayed too long, and our retreat was cut off. A 
truce was made, and my husband, who was quite worn out, could come into 
the house, and go to bed again, for the first time in a long while. Not to 
disturb his sleep, I had had a good bed made for him in a little room, and 
I lay down to sleep with my children and my two women in a hall near by. 
But about one o'clock in the night somebody came and wanted to speak to 
him. Greatly against my will, I was obliged to wake him up. I noticed that 
the message was not pleasant to him; that he immediately sent off the man 
to headquarters, and then lay sullenly down again. Presently afterwards, 
General Burgoyne had all the other generals and staff officers called to a 
council of war, to be held early in the morning. In this council he 
proposed, on the strength of false news which he had received, to break 
the capitulation which had already been made with the enemy. It was at 
last decided, however, that this was neither feasible nor advisable; and 
this was lucky for us, for the Americans told us later that if we had 
broken the capitulation we should all have been massacred, which they 
could easily have done, as we were not over four or five thousand strong, 
and had given them time to bring together more than twenty thousand men.

"On the morning of the 16th of October my husband had to go to his post 
again, and I into my cellar.

"On this day the officers, who had hitherto received only salt meat, which 
was very bad for the wounds of those who were hurt, had a great deal of 
fresh meat divided among them. The good woman who had always brought us 
water made an excellent soup of it. I had lost all my appetite, and during 
the whole time had taken nothing but a crust of bread soaked in wine. The 
wounded officers, my companions in misfortune, cut off the best piece of 
beef, and presented it to me with a plate of soup. I told them that I was 
unable to eat anything; but as they saw that it was necessary for me to 
take some nourishment, they declared that they would not touch a morsel 
themselves, until I had given them the pleasure of seeing me take some. I 
could no longer withstand their kind entreaties; whereupon they assured me 
that it made them very happy to be able to offer me the first good thing 
they had had.

"On the 17th of October the capitulation was effected. The generals went 
over to the American General Gates, and the troops laid down their arms 
and surrendered themselves prisoners of war. And now the good woman who, 
with danger to her life, had brought us water, received the reward of her 
services. Every one threw whole handfuls of money into her apron, and 
altogether she received more than twenty guineas. At such moments the 
heart seems open to feelings of gratitude." (Baroness Riedesel, pp. 180-
191.)