E 241 .S2 S8 Copy 1 c ccc c ccc < ccc f <C(C- ^ cc <^^Cc v_ c c cc V^ -CC. C ^ ^c_ V ^ cc c :: c«'V '_ cc ( C^ v!. .• Cv^C h «r c« tc ^ ct; cc c .cc cc ^ c c c c C<1_ cc ce^^ cc ^c cc I V C ( C . c c c ^vC c C ^ C C' ^< c_ c.c ^ ^ '■ C, C(C ( ^V ' C Cc .; ' C^ ^. C C" cc 'v cc cc ;^ CC' C'^C < . e CcC ^ ' <) CCC ^ < ^ ^' Secretary of the Association. v "History itself must now begin as from a new epoch. They are new powers that must set the wheels of government and of all the world's machinery in motion." ALBANY: JOEL MUNSELL. 1878. \ NOTE. The author would here acknowledge his obligations to Col. D. F. Ritchie of Saratoga Springs, and Mr. P. C. Ford of Schuylerville, for assistance in recalling the details of the celebration. OFFICERS SARATOGA MONUMENT ASSOCIATION. President, HORATIO SEYMOUR, Utica, N. Y. Vice-JPresiden t, JAMES H. MARVIN, Saratoga Springs, N. Y. Secretary, WILLIAM L. STONE, New York city. Corresponding Secretary, ED. W. B. CANNING, Stockbridge, Mass. Treasurer, DANIEL A. BULLARD, Schuylerville, N. Y. STANDING COMMITTEES. Committee on Design, William L, Stone, Charles H. Payn, E. W. B. Cannins, James M. Marvin, Leroy Mowrt, Committee on Location, Asa C. Tefft, Benson J. Lossing, E. F. Bullard. Suilding Cotnmittee, Charles H. Payn, Asa C. Tefft, William L. Stone. Executive Committee, Leroy Mowry, James M. Marvin, Daniel A. Bullard, D. F. Ritchie. Advisory Committee, Edward F. Bullard, Saratoga Springs, P. C. Ford, Schuyler- ville, N. Y., B. W. Throckmorton, New York city, Oscar Frisbie, New York city. Executive Committee for the Centennial Celebration. William L. Stone, P. C. Ford, Edward F. Bullard. 4 Officers. TRUSTEES. Horatio Seymour, Wm. J. Baco>'', Utica, N. Y. James M, Marvix, Charles H. Payx, E. F. Bullard, David F. Ritchie, Saratoga Springs, N. Y. Wm. L. Stone, Gen. J. Watts De Feyster, Algernon S. Sullivan, B, W. Throckmorton, Xew York city. Daniel A, Bullard, P. C. Ford, H. Clay Homes, Schuyler- ville, N. Y. Leroy Mowry, Greenwich, N. Y. Asa C. Tefft, Fort Miller, N. Y. Charles W. Mayhew, Victory Mills, N. Y. . E. R. iluDGE, Boston, Mass. E. W. B. Canning, Stoclcbridge, Mass. Webster Wagner, Palatine Bridge, N. Y. Frank Pruyn, Meclianicville, N. Y. James H. Kelly, Rochester, NT Y. Giles B. Slocum, Trenton, Mich. Benson J. Lossing, Dover Plains, N. Y. Gen. John M. Read, Lemon Thomson, Albany, N. Y. . CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF THE SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE. NARRATIVE. At early clay-break on the Centennial of Burgoyne's surrender 1 stood upon the highly elevated plateau on which i^sts the foundation for the Saratoga Monument. A vast amphitheatre was spread at my feet. High as I was above the village of Schuylerville and the surround- ing plain, or rather the whole region of country between the Kayaderosseras range on the west, the Green mount- ains on the east, and the Cats kills on the south, the varieties of upland and lowland were lost in the almost perpendicular line of vision in which they were presented to the view. As the dawn grew on apace, a gra}- jasper tinge slowly crept along the edge of the horizon. Flecks of pale sapphire gradual]}' branched up, which, changing into shoaling spires of emerald and chalcedony, grew more and more distinct, until the entire eastern sky was bathed in the hues of the topaz and amethyst. As the day advanced, and the rays of light darted thicker and brighter across the heavens, the purple clouds which hung over "Willard's mountain, were fringed with a saffron dye of inexpressible beauty. As the sun ascended above the horizon — the broad glare of his beams being somewhat 6 Centennial Celebkation of repressed by u dense atmosphere — the orb could be clearly defined by the naked eye. After it had gained the horizon the lesser spires below began to point their tall shadows toward me ; a cheerful and mellow light gradually diftused itself around; and the fog, which had rested upon the lower landscape, gently lifting, disclosed hill and vale, wood and river, in all their autumnal loveliness, standing sponsors for the new-born day. Wednesday, the 17th of October, 1877, was, indeed, a superb autumn day. The air was mild and balmy, and by nine o'clock not a cloud could be descried in any quar- ter of the heavens. It would seem as if the fates had deliberately combined to render the weather most auspi- cious. On the Monday previous, a cold, driving rain had set in ; and although it liad partially cleared, yet the sun of Tuesday had gone down in gloom ; while the wailing of the wind in the tall pines and the leaden clouels over- head gave every indication of another storm. Notwith- standing, however, these untoward signs and the con- tinued interrogations "Will it ever clear up?" the citizens of the patriotic little village of Schuylerville continued the work of decoration late into the night. Early in the afternoon of the 16th the advance guard of the visitors, press-reporters and delegates from different military and civic associations began to arrive. Among these came Battery B, of Troy, Captain A. H. Green commanding, with twenty men and five brass twelve pounders, and, also. Captain Tracy of the same city with twenty police- men, whose manly bearing and efifective measures for preserving the peace during the celebratio^i received the deserved commendation of all lovers of order. In the evening, the village was generally illuminated, giving to the colored decorations a really fine effect, and eliciting warm encomiums for the tasteful manner in which the ladies and gentlemen had performed their work. THE Surrender of Burgoyne, 7 The following morning, a little before sunrise, the artillery men of Battery B turned out, and dividing into four squads proceeded in as many directions to the out- skirts of the village where their cannons had previously been placed in position.' The day was formally ushered in by a salute of one hundred guns, the echoes of which had scarcely died away, when the people of Easton, from the heights of Willard's mountain, returned the greeting with the same number of guns. The bells of the churches then rang out merrily, and the steam whistles from the factories in the vicinity blew their slirillest notes. The rumbling of wheels along the several roads leading into the village was now heard, and soon the streets were astir with wagons, carriages and omnibusses filled with people from the surrounding country. In Saratoga Springs, twelve miles awa}', all the stores were closed, and a still- ness, more than funereal, hung over its streets; while the entire leno-tli of the road leading from that village to Schuylerville was, for more than four hours, covered with a continuous line of vehicles of every description — from the field-wagon, with rough board seat and chains on which to rest the feel and drawn by oxen, to the hand- some chariotee of the wealthy citizen.^ Toward noon the 'Tliese guns were placed respectively near the corner stone of llie Sara- toga Monument ; on'the site of the camp of the British Grenadiers ; on the hill back of Alnnzo Welch's house where General Morgan's riflemen were stationed, and on the high bluff on tlie east side of the river, the site of old Fort Saratoga during the French and Indian colonial wars, and, just pre- vious to the surrender, occupied by Col. Fellows Avith a battery. An eight- een pounder captiu'ed from the British in 1813, and presented to the Saratoga Monument Association by Frederick DePeyster and Gen. J. W. DePeyster, of New York City, was also placed near the corner stone. 'Benj. W. Amsden of No. 70 Lake avenue says that on Wednesday morning vehicles were passing iiis place, en route to Schuylerville, long before daybreak. Somewhat surprised at the immense number of people moving in tlie direction of the surrender grounds, lie began at six o'clock and kept a tally of each team that passed up to eleven o'clock, five hours, 8 Centennial Celebration of military, masonic and other organizations that were to take part in the approaching pageant thronged into the town, and by mid-day, the pavements and the windows and porches of the houses were filled with an expectant miiltitiule anxious to secure a good view of the procession.^ And well might the scene now presented rivet the eye. It is seldom that a spectacle, such as that which the streets and buildings of Schuylerville aftbrded on this occasion, is seen. As early as a week previous to the celebration, every flag, Uarge or small, every yard, remnant and piece of colored goods to be found in any of the stores wer.e purchased, to the great gratification of the merchants, who had feared that, in their patriotic enthusiasm, they had been unwise in filling their shelves with so large a stock of red, blue and white goods. Nor were the decorations, so universally displayed, massed together in ahetreogene- ous manner without form or comeliness. Good judgment, a cultivated taste and a lavish expenditure of money gave to the public buildings, the hotels and the stores a bril- liant and striking appearance ; while the fayades of the houses adorned with bunting and various original devices illustrative of scenes and incidents of a century ago, showed good taste and commendable patriotism. This, and found the number to be three hundred and fifty-four. As tliis is but one outlet to our village some idea may be formed of Saratoga's delegation to the celebration when the other streets and avenues on the east side are taken into consideration. The number of Saratogians who attended the centennial could not have been less than five thousand. — Saratogian, Oct. 18lh, 1877. 'It was estimated by persons whose experience in large gatherings of a like nature rendered them competent judges, that fully thirty thousand people were in the vilhige and upon the surrender grounds at noon Saratoga's celebration. It was one of the best equipped commands on the ground. As the proces- sion moved by, the next command that passed along was 'The Governor's Fool Guards were cliartered in 1771. In October, 1777, il started for Saratoga to offer its services to Gates though organized specially as a body guard to tlie governor and general assembly of the colony of Connecticut. The company, under the command of Captain Jonathan Bull, marched as far as tlie Rhinebeck flats, M'liere, being met by an express with the news of Burgoyne's surrender, they returned home. The battalion now numbers about one hundred, including a band of twenty-five pieces. James Bull, now living at Saratoga Si)rings, is a grandson of Captain Jonathan Bull, and was a member of the guards fifty years ago. His father Isaac D. Bull was the first major of the or- ganization when it became a battalion in 1813, serving until 1816. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 15 the Hughes Light Guards of South Glen's Falls, Capt. Gleesettle. This company has only recently been organ- ized, hut the members carried themselves like veterans, reflecting credit on the most northerly town in Saratoga county. The Whitehall Cornet band then filed past, lead- ing the well known and popular Burleigh Corps of "White- hall, Lieut. Bascom commanding. The Guards and Corps were dressed in the regulation dark and light blue and wore the shako, and made a creditable appearance. This military array was followed by the Knights Templar, their gay trappings, in the bright sunlight of an unclouded sky, being sufficiently gorgeous to have filled the eye of a Per- sian emperor in the height of oriental splendor and mag- nificence. The Knights Templar constituted the second division of the procession which was under the command of very eminent Grand Commander Charles H. Holden, assisted by Sir Knight B. F. Judson. Preceding the Washington Commandery of Saratoga Springs, was the Ballston Cornet band dressed in a showy dark blue uni- form. Then came the Seventy-seventh regiment band of Saratoga Springs, composed of twenty-two pieces and dressed in military uniform, followed by the Apollo Com- mandery of Troy and the Temple Commandery of Albany. These comraanderies, together with Washington Com- mandery, sustained well their reputation as among the finest appearing and best drilled organizations of Sir Knights in the state. The Mozart band of Schenectady, uniformed in white, came next in order preceding the commanderies of St. George of Schenectady, Be Soto of Plattsburgh, Holy Cross of Glovers ville, Lafayette of Hud- son, Little Falls of Little Falls, Killington of Rutland, Vermont, and the Tefl:'t of Bennington of the same state. The Schuylerville Cornet band was the next to pass, fol- lowed by the Master Masons, who precedeast, and which now and throughout the future, will influence the foilunes of our country. Burgoyne did not merely surrender liere an army, he surrendered the con- TUE Surrender of Burgoyne. 45 trol of a continent. Never in the world's history, was there a transfer of a territory so vast, and of influences so far reaching, as that made a century ago where we now stand. We meet to-day to celebrate the surrender of Burgoyne, by appropriate ceremonies, and to lay the corner stone of a monu- ment which will commemorate not only that event, but every fact which led to that result. The reproach rests upon the United States, that while they stand in the front ranks of the powers of the earti), by virtue of their numbers, their vast do- mains and their progress in wealth and in arts, they give no proof to the ej^es of the world that they honor their fathers or those whose sacrifices laid the foundations of their prosperity and greatness. We hope that a suitable structure here will tell all who look upon it that this was the scene of an occurrence un- surpassed in importance in military annals. And it will also show that a hundred years have not dimmed its lustre in our eyes, but that the light shed upon its significance by the lapse of time, has made deeper and stronger our gratitude to those who here served their country so well, and by their sacrifices and sufferings, achieved its independence and secured the liberties, the prosperity and greatness of the American people. All that throws light upon the scope and policy of the de- signs of the British government are, on this day, proper topics for consideration. When we trace out the relationships which these designs bore to preceding occurrences ; and Avhen we fol- low down their bearing upon the present and future of our country, we shall see that a suitable monument here will recall to all thoughtful miuds the varied history of our country during the past two centuries. It will do more. For the enduring causes which have shaped the past, also throw light upon the future of our government, our civilization and our power. The occurrences which led to the surrender of the British army, have been appropriately celebrated. The great gather- ings of our people at Oriskany, at Bennington and at Bemis's Heights, show how this centennial of what has been well termed the year of battles, revives iu the minds of the American peo- ple an interest in the history of the Revolution. These celebra- 1 46 Centennial Celebration of tions liave tended to make our people wiser and better. It is to be hoped that they will be held on every battle field in our country. They will not only restore the patriotism of our people but they will teach us the virtues of courage and patient endur- ance. This is a time of financial distress and of business dis- order, and we have lost somewhat of our faith with regard to the future, and we speak in complaining tones of the evils of our day. But when we read again the history of the war for our independence ; when we hear the story of the sufferings of all classes of our citizens ; when we are reminded that our sol- diers endured from want, and nakedness, and hunger, as no paupei-, no criminal suffers now ; when we think that the fears which agitated their minds w^ere not those which merely con- cerned the pride of success, the mortification of failure, or the loss of some accustomed comfort, but they were the di-ead that the march of hostile armies might drive their families from their homes, might apply the torch to their dwellings, or worse than this, expose their wives and children to the tomahawks and scalping knives of merciless savages, we blush at our com- plaints. In view of their dangers and sufferings, how light appear the evils of our day. But there is something more than all this to be gained by these celebrations. Before the Revolution the people of the several colonies held but little intercourse. They were estranged from each other by distance, by sectional prejudices, and by differences of lineage and religious creeds. The British go- vernment relied upon these prejudices and estrangements to prevent a cordial cooperation among the colonists. But when the war began, when the men of Virginia hastened to Massa- chusetts to rescue Boston from the hands of the enemy and to drive them from New England ; when the men of the east and south battled side l)y side with those from the middle states, apd stood upon this spot as brothers to receive with a common pride and joy the standards of a con(]uered foe ; when Green and Lincoln went to the relief of the southern colonies all pre- judice not only died away, but more than fraternal love ani- mated every patriot heart from the bleak northernmost forests THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 47 of New England to the milder airs of Georgia. And now that a hundred years have passed, and our country has become great beyond the wildest dreams of our fathers, Avill not the story of their sufferings revive in the breast of all the love of our coun- try, of our whole country and all who live within its boundaries? Men of the east and men of the south, or you who can trace your lineage back to those who served their country a century ago upon the soil of New York, we do not welcome you here PS guests ; you stand here of right, by virtue of a heritage from our fathers, who on this ground were common actors in the crowning event of the war waged for the liberties, the glory, and the prosperity of all sections of our great country. At this celebration of the grand conclusion of the campaign of Burgoyne, we have a broader field of discussion than that of a battle, however stirring it may have been. The occasion calls not only for praise of heroic courage, not only for a deep in- terest in every statement showing the influence of its victories over the judgment of the world as to the strength of our cause, but also for its importance as one of the links in the chain of events reaching back more than two centuries, and which will continue to stretch down into the future far beyond the period when human thought or conclusions can be of value. INFLUENCE OF THE TOPOGRAPHY OF OUR COUNTRY. The speaker and others who have addressed the public with regard to American history, have made frequent references to the extent that it has been shaped by the topography of this part of our country. On this occasion it forces itself upon oi;r attention, and we must again outline its relationship to events. We cannot, if we would, separate the design of the campaign of Burgoyne, nor the military aspects of its progress, from the character of the valleys through which its forces wei-e moved, nor from the commanding positions at which it was aimed. Our mountains and rivers have been the causes of so many of the great facts in the history of this continent ; they are so closely identified with its political and social affairs, that they seem to become sentient actors in Hs events. We are compelled to 48 Centennial Celebration of speak of their bearings upon tlie course of war, of commerce and of civilization, to make a clear statement of the scope and significance of the events we celebrate. This cannot be given if we speak only of the things which relate to the British inva- sion of 1777, and of its signal defeat. Those who would learn the causes which have shaped the course of military and political affairs on this continent, which have given victoiy in war and prosperity in peace, must spi^ead out before them the map of our country. Having traced its grand system of mountains, rivers and lakes, they will be struck with the fact that for a thousand miles the Alleghanies make long ranges of barriers between the Atlantic and the great plains of the interior. About mid-way of their lengths these lofty mountains are cut down to their bases by the gorge of the Hudson, through which the tides of the ocean pour their floods in triumph. Towering cliffs overshadow the deep waters of the river. Had but a single spur of those rocky buttresses which crowd upon either shore been thrown across the narrow chasm, had but one of the beetling cliffs which stand upon its brink been pushed but a few feet across its course, the currents of events would have been changed as coni])letely as the cur- rents of the floods. The nations who controlled the outlets of the Mississippi and the St. Lawrence would have been the mas- ters of this continent. Ko one who has marked the physical character of our country, and who has studied its history, can pass through the highlands of the Hudson and note how at every turn of its stream the cliffs threaten to close its course, without feeling that the power which made tlie mountain chains to stop abruptly at its brink, Avas higher than blind chance — something more than the wild, unreasoning action of convulsed nature. The valley of the Hudson does not end Avhen it has led the ocean tides through the mountain passes. It stretches its channel northwaixl to the St. Lawrence, and holds within its deep basin not only the Hudson flowing south, but Lake Cham- plain, Avhich empties its waters into the ocean far north through the gulf of St. Lawreuce. It thus not only connects the har- THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 49 bor of New York with the basins of the great lakes, but by the Mohawk branch of the Hudson it has also channeled oiit another level passage, stretching westward to the plains watered by the confluents of the Mississippi. These valleys of tlie Hudson and Mohawk have been the pathways of armies in war and the routes of commerce in peace. They have been the highways through which the nations of Europe and the people of the At- lantic coast have poured their host of emigrants into the vast regions which stretch out from the Alleghanies to the base of the Rocky mountains. But nature did not stop in her work when she gave to the regions in which we meet advantages of deep valleys, making the easy communication from the sea coast to the interior of our country. From the outward slopes of highlands which guard these channels of intercourse, the waters flow by divei'ging valleys into almost every part of our Union. These highlands make, in many ways, the most remarkable watersheds to be found on the face of the earth. There is not elsewhere an instance where interlocking sources of rivers pur- sue courses diverging in so many directions, forming so many extending valleys, and at length find their outlets into the ocean at points so distant from each other, and from the headwaters on the ground where they had their common origin. For these reasons the valleys of the Hudson and the Mohawk, and the mountain strongholds which command them, have ever been the great central points of control in the wars of both civilized and savage races. Once when in company with General Scott, we overlooked from an elevated point the ground on which we stand and the confluence of these rivers, and the range of high- lands which marked their courses, the old warrior with a kind- ing eye, stretched out his arm and said : " Remember this has been the great strategic point in all the wars waged for the con- trol of this continent." The mountains and valleys of New York not only make channels for commerce in peace, but a grand system for defence and attack in war. They are nature's commanding works, which dwarf by comparison all human monuments of engineer- ing skill into insignificance. Their influence is most clearly 50 Centennial Celebration of shown by llie power they gave to the Indian tribes who held them when Europeans iirst visited our continent. The rivers which flowed in all directions from their vantage ground on the liighlands, first taught the Iroquois the advantages of united action, and led to the formation of thoii- confederacy. Pouring their combined forces at different times into the valley of the Delaware, or of the Susquehannah, or the Alleghany, they were able to subdue in detail the divided tribes living upon these streams. Thus gaining courage and skill by constant victories, they boldly pushed their conquest into remote sections of our country. The British ordnance maps published during the col- onial period, make the boundaries of their control extend from the coast line of the Atlantic to the Mississippi liver and from the great lakes to the centre of the present state of North Carolina. There is no instance in history where a region so vast has been conquered by numbers so small. Their alliance with the British government was one of the grounds on which the latter con- tested the claims of the French to the interior of our continent, by virtue of its discoveries on the St. Lawrence and Mississippi. Thus the victories gained by the Iroquois, through their geo- graphical position, had a great influence in deciding the ques- tion, whether the civilization of North America should be French or English in its aspects, laws and customs. It is a remarkable fact, that with a view of overcoming the British power on this continent, nearly a century before the campaign of Burgoyne, its plan was forecast by Frontenac, the ablest of the French colonial commanders. He proposed to move against the colony of New York by the same routes followed by the British forces in 1777. He was to lead his army through the valley of Lake Champlain and LTpper Hudson to Albany. At that point he designed to seize vessels to pass down the I'iver, and there to act with the French ships of war, which were to meet him in the harbor of New York. Nothing can show more clearly the strategic importance of the valley in wdiich we meet, than the fact that he urged this movement for the same reasons which led the British king to adopt it after the lapse of so many years. Frontenac saw that, by gain- THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 51 ing control of the course and outlet of the Hudson, the French would command the gateway into the interior, that they would divide the British colonies, and New England thus cut off, would, in the end, fall into the hands of the French. He also urged that in this way the Iroquois would be detached from the English alliance. The influence of the valleys of our country has not been lost in the wars of our day. " We should have won our cause," said Governor Wise, a distinguished leader of the Southern con- federacy, " had not God made the rivers which spring from the highlands of New York, to flow from the north to the south, thus making by their valleys, pathways for armies into all parts of our territories. Had their courses been in other directions, their streams would have made barriers against Northern ai-mies instead of giving avenues by which they could assail us." Nor have they been less controlling in peace than in war. They make the great channels of commerce between the east and the west, and enable us to draw to the seaboard the abundant har- vest of the valley of the Mississippi, and to send them to the far off markets of Europe. Numerous and varied as have been the movement of armies along these watercourses, even they sink into insignificance compared with the vast multitudes which have poured through them from Europe and the Atlantic coast to fill the west with civilized states. Through them we draw armies of immigrants, prisoners of peace captured from Europe by the strength of the inducements held out to them by the material and political advantages of our country. We are in our day the witnesses of a greater movement of the human race, both as to numbers and influence upon civilization, than is recorded in past history. It can tell of no such con- tinued and great transfer of population from one continent to another. Unlike other invasions, it does not biing war and ra- pine, but it bears peaceful arts and civilization into vast regions heretofore occupied by scanty tribes of warring savages. Fa- miliar with this great movement, we are prone to look upon it with some degree of indifference. But through the centuries to come it will be regarded as one of the greatest events in the history of mankind. 52 Centennial Celebration of I have not dwelt upon these hills and valleys merely because they have been the scenes of the most dramatic and important events in American annals, but because they have given birth to these events. I have spoken of them, not because they have been associated with history, but because they have made his- tory. They gave to the Iroquois their power ; they directed the course and determined the result of the war between France and Britain for domination on this continent. Neither the sur- render of the British army on these grounds, the causes which preceded nor the consequences which flowed from it, can be appreciated until the enduring influences of the great features of our country are clearly brought into view. Elsewhere rivers and mountains mark the lines which make enemies of mankind. Here they form the avenues which bind us together by inter- course. They give not merely to a country, but almost to our whole continent, a common language, customs and civilization. The world has never before seen a social structure with founda- tions so broad. Time may make many changes, but there will ever be a unity in the population of North America, a commu- nity of interests upon a grander scale than has yet been seen among mankind. He who studies the map of our continent and doubts this, does not merely lack political faith, but is guilty of impiety when he closes his eyes to the truths which God has written by streams and valleys, upon the face of this continent. It was the design of the British government in the campaign of IVV? to capture the center and stronghold of this command- ing system of mountains and valleys. It aimed at its very heart — the confluence of the Mohawk and Hudson. The fleets, the armies, and the savage allies of Britain were to fol- low their convei'ging lines to Albany. Its position liad made that city the place where the governors and agents of the colonies had been used to meet with reference to their com- mon interest. Here the agents of the New England and southern provinces came to consult with the chiefs of the Iroquois, and to gain their alliance in their wars with the savages of the west, who threatened the European settle- ments. In the expressive language of the Indians, Albany was THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 53 called the " Ancient Place of Treaty." It was also the point at which the military exjDeditions against the French at the north and west were organized. Even before Benjamin Franklin brought forward his plan at Albany for colonial union, the idea of such alliance was constantly suggested by the necessity of common action in attack or defence against savage or civilized enemies. There was much to justify the boastful confidence of the British that they could thus crush out American resistance. To feel the full force of this threatened blow, we must foi-get for a time our present power ; we must see with the eyes of our fathers, and look at things as they stood a century ago. The care with which the army of Burgoyne was organized, its officers and men selected, and its material for an advance and attack provided, has been made familiar to our people by this year's addresses. The progress of the British navy up the Hud- son to a point west of the Alleghany range, its seizure in its course of Stony Point and Fort Clinton, its success in forcing a jDassage through the highlands at West Point, the capture and burning of Kingston, where the British admiral awaited commu- nication from Burgoyne, have all been clearly narrated on the pages of history. Had the commander of the expedition gone to Albany he might have saved the army of Burgoyne. Gene- ral Gates saw if this had been done he would have been forced to retreat into New England. But it was not known at the time how great a peril was averted by an act of negligence in the British war department. It appears that orders were pre- pared, but not sent to General Howe, directing him to cooperate with Burgoyne Avith all his forces. If this had been done, there is reason to fear the result would have been fatal to our cause. This is one of those strange occurrences recognized in the lives of individuals as well as in the affairs of nations, showino- that there is an over-ruling Providence that watches over both. The importance of the movement from the west by St. Leger and his Indian allies is not generally understood by our people. It was made with confidence of success : and when its commander wrote to Burgoyne that he would be able to sweep 8 54 Centennial Celebration of down tlie valley of the Mohawk and })lace himself in the reai* of the American army, there was much to justify that confi- dence. The address of Mr. Roberts and others, at the Oi-iskany celebration, are valuable contributions to the history of St. Leger's invasion. The Palatines wlio inhabited the valley of the Mohawk were, by their position, language and usages, severed from the body of the American colonies. The wise policy of Sir William Johnson had done much to attach them to the British crown. To enable them to worship God in ac- cordance with their own creed and in the faith of that part of Germany from which they came, aid was given to them for the erection of churches for' their use. Many of these were strong stone churches, which were afterwards fortified and used as places of refuge and defence during the Revolution by the families of the settlers against the ruthless warfare of savages. Most of these churches still stand, monuments of the past, and are now used for the sacred purposes for which they were built. The heirs and representatives of Sir William were with the array of St. Leger, and assured him that the dwellers upon the Mohawk would respond to their appeals, and rise in arms to uphold the cause of the crown. No stronger proof can be given that the love of liberty and of democratic principles were en- gendered and born itpon our soil and not imported in some latent form in the ships which brought over the first colonists, than the fact tliat these settlers from the Palatinates of Ger- many, who had not known of I'epublican usages in tlieir native land, and who could not, from their position and their language, receive impressions from the other colonists, had yet, amidst the trials and perils of border life and warfare, gained the same political convictions which animated the colonists in all parts of our country. It was the most j-emarkable fact of the revo- lutionary war, and of the formation of state and general go- vernments, that, although the colonists were of different lineages and languages, living under different climates with varied pur- suits and forms of labor, cut off from intercourse by distance, yet, in spite of all these obstacles to accord, they Avere from the outset animated by common views, feelings and purposes. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 55 When the independence was gained, they were able, after a few weeks spent in consultation, to form the constitution under which we have lived for nearly one hundred years. There can be no stronger proof of the fact that American constitutions were born and shaped by American necessities. This fact should give us new faith in the lasting nature of our govern- ment. In the case of the Palatines of the Mohawk this truth shines out more clearly than elsewhere. Isolated by language, lineage and position, the great body of them fought for the American cause, and showed a sturdy valor from the outset. They endured more of suffering and danger in its most appall- ing form, than were felt elsewhere. With the loss of their language and from the great inflow from other states and coun- tries into Central New York, many of the incidents and tradi- tions of the valley of the Mohawk are lost. It is due to them from the whole country that, as far as possible, its history should be developed and made familiar to our people. The most telling blow to the canse of the crown, and to the hopes of St. Leger, was that the mustering of the men under Hei'- kimer, their desperate valor in the fight at Oriskany showed that he was to be met with undying hostility where he had looked for friends and allies. From that day the hope which animated him when he promised to aid Burgoyne faded away. The defeat of St. Leger and their allies was given by Bui-- goyne as one of the great causes of his failure to reach Albany While the hostile Indians inflicted great evils upon the Ameri can settlements, their prestige was lessened in the eyes of the world. INDIAN ALLIES. The importance of the Indian alliance with the British during the Revolution, has been undervalued by most of those who have written the histories of the Revolution. We look upon Indian wars as mei-e savage outbursts, which may cause much misery and suffering, but which threaten no danger to govern- ments. We are apt to think that the savages were merely used to divert and distract the American forces. But such 5G Centennial Celebration of was not the import of their alliance, in the judgment of the contending parties or of the nations of Europe, who watched witli interest the course of military events on this continent. We must bear in mind the estimation in which the Iroquois were held at the close of the French war. They had done much to give the victory to the English. At times, the hostility of these savage confederates would have been fatal to the British cause. Their position made them conquerors of their kindred races. Victories inspired them with heroism. Extended con- quests had taught them much of the policy of government. In the councils of their confederacy^, orators and statesmen had been formed. They extorted from their French enemies expres- sions of admiration and statements of virtues, which we should do well to imitate in our own day and in our own councils. Golden, who was familiar with their polity, states that the authority of their rulers consisted wholly of the estimation in which they were held for integrity and wisdom, and they were generally poorer than the rest of the people. He adds, " there is not a man of the Five Nations who has gained his office otherwise than by merit." Their enemies, the French, testified in their his- tories, that while they were the fiercest and most formidable people in America, they were politic and judicious in the man- agement of their affairs. For nearly a century the French and English struggled to gain their friendship by every influence of religion, of diplomacy and display of power. Even as late as 1754, George Washington, then a colonial officer, called upon them for assistance in his movements against the French on the Ohio river, and claimed that he went forth to fight for their rights, because the French were occui)ying territories which belonged to the Iroquois. Only twenty years before the re- volutionary war, the British ministry insisted in its correspond- ence with the French government, that the Iroquois were the owners, by conquest, of the Ohio territory, and that they were the subjects of the British crown. This was the claim set up against the French rights of discovery. It is a remarkable fact, that the French did not deny the right of conquest by the Iroquois, but denied that they were the subjects of Britain in THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 57 these strong words : " Certain it is that no Englishman durst, without running the risk of being massacred, tell the Iroquois that they are the subjects of England." One of the first acts of the continental cong-ress was designed to secure the alliance of the Six Nations. In this they were unsuccessful, except as to the Oneidas. The coijperation of their savage allies was deemed of the utmost importance by the British. I do not speak of the action at Bennington nor of the battle of Bemis's Heights. The late celebration upon the grounds upon which they took place, have made the public familiar with all their aspects and results. INFLUENCE OF BURGOYNE's SURRENDER. France saw that upon the very theatre of war where Bi-itain had wrested from it the control of this continent, its ancient enemy had been beaten by the new power which was springing into existence. To the French government this victory had a significance that no like victory could have had upon other fields. It knew better than others the commanding features of this region. Its missionaries were highly educated men, who marked with care the character of our mountains, lakes and streams. Impelled by religious zeal and devotion to the interests of their native land, they boldly pushed into the remote portions of the continent in advance of commercial enterprise or military expe- ditions. Their narratives are to this day of great value and interest. The surrender of Burgoyne had also a marked effect upon the tone and policy of the British cabinet ; it no longer fought for conquest, but for compromise. Its armies were moved with a view of saving a part if it could not hold all of its jurisdiction. It was able to take possession of the principal cities, but it could not find elsewhere positions, like that aimed at by Burgoyne, which would enable it to sunder and paralyze the patriot forces. It exhausted its armies in campaigns which produced no results, even wlien successful in repulsing our forces or in occupying the points at which they were directed. Its commanders were animated by only one gleam of hope. The proud power which at the outset called upon the world to witnest 58 Centennial Celebration of its strength in crushing rebellion, stooped to dealings with a traitoi', and sought to gain l)\- corruption what it could not gain by force. The treason of Arnold excited the deepest feelings, because the loss of West Point, the key of the Hudson, Avould have given the British a position from which they could not have been dislodged at the center of the strongholds of defence and the couunanding basis for attack of the Hudson and its guardian mountains. The fact that the loss of West Point would have been deemed a fatal blow to the American cause places the strategic importance of this region in the strongest light. The surrender of Burgoyne not only gave new hope to the patriots, but it exerted a moral influence upon our soldiers. The colonists up to that time had been trained in the belief that British soldiers were irresistible. To hold them sui)erior to all others in arms had been American patriotism. Through the century of the French wars, precedence had always been yielded to the officers of the crown ; and the colonists looked mainly to the British army to protect their homes from invasion. Colonial papers showed an extravagance of loyalty wliich is frequently exhibited in the outlying and exposed settlements of all nations. The Revolution, while it made a revulsion of feeling, did not at the outset destroy this sense of the superior skill and power of British arms. The early engagements in the open fields had not been fortunate for the patriot cause. The armies of the crown were still buoyed up by that sense of superiority, which, in itself, is an element in martial success. Burgoyne did not doubt his ability to destroy any army he could reach. The battle of Bemis's Heights was a fair and open contest on equal terms. In strategy, in steadiness, in valor, the continental troo[)s proved themselves in all ways equal to the picked and trained men against whom they fought. From the day that victory was won, the American soldier felt himself to be the equal of all who could be brought against him, and he knew that he was animated by higlier and nobler purposes than those which moved the ranks of his enemies. The ^hole spirit of the contqst was changed. Our armies reaped a THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 59 double triumph on this field. There was much in the contempt which had been shown by their enemies of their qualities as soldiers, much in the taunts and sneers of the British cabinet, much in the pillage and destruction which ever attend the march of invading armies, to excite tiie victors to exhibitions of triumph over fallen foes. But they bore themselves, not as men intoxi- cated by successful fortunes in war, but as men who felt it was in them to win victories there or elsewhere. There was a calm- ness in the hour of triumph, which more than even courage upon the battlefield, impressed the defeated army with the character of those of whom they had spoken so contemptuously. The enemy were twice conquered, and in many ways the last victory over them was most keenly felt. The moi-al and the military advantages of the surrender of the British army was marred by no act which lessened the dignity of the conquerors. And he who reads the story of the contest, finds himself most triumphant in his feelings over the moral rather than the martial victory. GENERAL SCHUYLER. When we read the story of the event, which we now celebrate, whether it is told by friend or foe, there is one figure which rises above all others upon whose conduct and bearing we love to dwell. There is one who won a triumph Avhich never grows dim. ■ One who gave an example of patient patiiotism unsur- passed on the pages of histor}'. One who did not, even under cutting wrongs and cruel suspicions, wear an air of martyrdom, but with cheerful alacrity served where he should have com- manded. It was in a glorious spirit of chivalrous courtesy with which Schuyler met and ministered to those who had not only, been enemies in arms, but who had inflicted upon him unusual injuries unwarranted by the laws of war. But there was some- thing more grand in his service to his country than even this honor which he did to the American cause, by his bearing upon this occasion. Tlie spirit of sectional prejudice which the Biitish cabinet relied upon to prevent cordial cooperation among the colonies, had been exhibited against him in a way most galling to a pure patriot and a brave soldier. But, filled with devotion 60 Centennial Celebration of to his country's cause, lie uttered no murmur of complaint, nor did he for a moment cease in his labors to gain its liberties. This grand rebuke to selfish intriguers and to honest prejudices did much to discomfit the one and to teach the other the injustice of their suspicions and the unworthiness of sectional prejudices. The strength of this rebuke sometimes irritates writers who cannot rise above local prejudices, and they try to lessen the public sense of his virtue by reviving the attacks, proved to be unjust upon investigation, and which, by the verdict of men honored by their country, were ])roved to be unfounded. The judgment of George Washington and of the patriots who sur- rounded him, with regard to men of their own day and affairs with which they were familiar, cannot be shaken by those who seek to revive exploded scandals and unfounded suspicions. The character of Gen. Schuyler grows brighter in public regard. The injustice done him by his removal from his command, at a time when his zeal and ability had placed victory almost within his reach, is not perhaps to be regretted. We could not well lose from our history his example of j^atriotism and of pez'soual honor and chivalry. We could not spare the proof which his case furnishes, that virtue triumphs in the end. We would not change, if we could, the history of his trials. For we feel that they gave luster to his character, and we are forced to say of Gen. Schuyler that, while he had been greatly wronged, he had never been injured. SARATOGA MONUMENT. The association formed under the laws of this state to erect a suitable moiuunent to commemorate the defeat of the Bi-itish army under Burgoyne, has selected this spot upon which to place it, because here it will recall to the mind not only the final act, but every event which led to the surrender. It will carry the thoughts of him who looks upon it back to the first and tierce fight at Oriskany. It will remind him of the disaster to the British forces at the battle of Bennington. It will excite the deepest interest in the contest on the hills at Bemis's Heights. It will do more. It will bring before the public mind that grand THE Surrender of Burgotne. 61 procession of events, which for«two centuries have passed through the valleys of the Hudson and the Mohawk. When it shall excite the interests which attach to the occasion which we cele- brate linked history will lead the public mind back, step by step, to the earliest period of the French and English settlements on this continent. We shall be taught what made the savage tribes of this region superior in war and polity to their kindred races. We shall be reminded of the forays of savages, the march of disciplined armies, the procession of Christian missionaries, which exceed in dramatic interest and in far reaching consequences, all other incidents of war, of diplomacy, and of i-eligious zeal exhibited on this continent. The events which have occurred in these valleys have also been closely connected with the most important facts of European history. The ambition of Louis the fourteenth of France aimed at supremacy on two continents. The prolonged war over the balance of power in Europe, con- cerned the civilization of America. The genius of Marlborough, and the victory of Blenheim, were of more enduring consequence to us than to the parties engaged in the contest. They did not foresee that they were shaping the civilization of a continent, or the destinies of a people at this day exceeding in numbers the united populations of the countries engaged in the war. Where else in our country can a monument be placed, from which will radiate so much that is instructive ? Where else can a struct- ure be erected which will teach such varied history ? Elsewhere, great achievements in peace or war, make certain spots instinct with interest. Elsewhere, the great features of nature have influenced the fate of nations. But it is not true that elsewhere mountains and rivers have been such marked and conspicuous agents in shaping events. Here they have directed the affairs of this continent. In selecting a place where a monument should stand, this association has not been embarrassed by any questions as to the comparative importance of the act of surrender of the British army, or of the battles which made that surrender in- evitable. Each has its peculiar interest, and each should be marked by suitable monuments. But the last scene in the drama unfolds to the mind the plot and incidents which reach their 9 62 Centennial Celebration of conclusions at the close. A monument on this ground not only commemorates what occurred here, but it recalls to the mind all the incidents and battles which ])receded it, and gives to each a deeper interest, than when they are considered separately. Each is viewed not only in the light of the wisdom, valor or patriotism displayed, but of its bearing ui)on the grand result. He who visits the scene of the bloody light at Oriskany, or looks over the hills where the men of Vermont drove back the troops of Burgoyne, or studies the movements of the armies at the battle of Beniis's Heights, finds that his thoughts do not rest until they dwell upon the grand conclusion reached upon this spot. When his mind is kindled with patiiotic pride upon either of the battle- fields to which I have alluded, he will turn to the ground upon which we now meet, and thank God for the event we now cele- brate. The surrender of Burgoyne marks the dividing line between two conditions of our country : the one the colonial period of dependence, and the other the day from which it stood full armed and victorious here, endowed with a boldness to assert its independence, and endowed with a wisdom to frame its own system of government. From this review of the past we instinctively turn our minds and try to scan the years that are to come. It is not given to us to forecast the future. But when we study the great natural features of our country, and see how they have directed the past, we learn from the silver links of rivers and the i-ocky chains of mountains that God has written and stamped on the face of this continent, that it shall ever be held by those speaking a common language, with a common civilization, and living together with that freedom of intercourse which shall forever, under some forms, make them one people. A monument upon this spot will not merely minister to local pride ; it will not foster sectional ])rejudices ; every citizen of every state of this union will feel as he looks upon it that he has a right to stand upon this ground. It will tell of the com- mon sacrifices and common trials of the fathers of the republic. Men from all parts of our union will here be reminded that our THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 63 independence as a people was wrought out by the sufferings and sacrifices of those who came from every quarter of our country to share in this valley in the perils of battle and in the triumphs of victory. Here sectional passions will fade away ; and the glorious memories and the fraternal feelings of the past will be revived. We are told that during more than twenty centuries of war and bloodshed, only fifteen battles have been decisive of lasting results. The contest of Saratoga is one of these. From the battle of Marathon to the field of Waterloo, a period of more than two thousand years, there was no martial event which had a greater influence upon human affairs than that wliicli took place on these grounds. Shall not some suitable structure recall this fact to the public mind ? Monuments make as well as mark the civilization of a people. Neither France, nor Britain, nor Germany, could spare the statues or works of art which keep alive the memories of patriotic sacrifices or of personal virtues. Such silent teachers of all that ennobles men, have taught their lessons through the darkest ages, and have done much to save society from sinking into utter decay and degradation. If Greece or Rome had left no memorials of private virtues or public greatness, the progress of civilization would have been slow and feeble. If tlicir crumbling i-emains should be swept away, the world would mourn the loss, not only to learning and arts, but to virtue and patriotism. It concerns the honor and welfare of the American people, that this spot should be marked by some structure which shall recall its history, and animate all who look upon it by its grand teachings. No people ever held lasting power or greatness, who did not reverence the virtues of their fathers, or who did not show forth this reverence by material and striking testimonials. Let us, then, buikl here a lasting monument, which shall tell of our gratitude to those who, through suffering and sacrifice, Avrought out the independ- ence of our country. GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS'S ORATION. Within the territory of New York, broad, fertile and fair, from Montauk to Niagara, from the Adirondacks to the bay, there is no more memorable sjjot than that ou which we stand, 64 Centennial Celebration of Elsewhere, indeed, the great outlines of the landscape are more imposing, and on this autumnal day the parting benediction of the year rests with the same glory on other hills and other waters of the imperial state. Far above, these gentle heights rise into towering mountains ; far below, this placid stream broadens and deepens around the metropolis of the conti- nent into a spacious highway for the commerce of the world. Other valleys with teeming intervale and fruitful upland, rich with romantic tradition and patriotic story, 'filled like this with happy homes and humming workshops, wind through the vast commonwealth, ample channels of its various life ; and town and city, village and hamlet, church and school, everywhere illustrate and promote the prosperous repose of a community great, intelligent and free. But this sj^ot alone within our borders is consecrated as the scene of one of the decisive events that affect the course of history. There are deeds on which the welfare of the world seems to be staked ; conflicts in which liberty is lost or won ; victories by which the standard of human progress is full high advanced. Between sunrise and sunset, on some chance field the deed is done, but from that day it is a field enchanted. Imagination invests it with " The light that never was on sea or land. " The grateful heart of mankind repeats its name ; Heroism feeds upon its story ; Patriotism kindles with its perennial fire. Such is the field on Avhich we stand. It is not ours. It does not belong to New York ; nor to America. It is an indefeasi- ble estate of the world, like the field of Arbela, of Tours, of Hastings, of Waterloo ; and the same lofty charm that draws the pilgrim to the plain of Marathon resistlessly leads him to the field of Saratoga. The drama of the Revolution opened in New England, cul- minated in New York, and closed in Virginia. It was a happy fortune that the three colonies which represented the various teri'itorial sections of the settled continent were each in turn the chief seat of war. The common sacrifice, the common struggle, the common triumph, tended to weld them locally, politically and morally together. Doubtless there were con- THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 65 flicts of provincial pride and jealousy and suspicion. The Virginia officers smiled loftily at the raw Yankee militia ; the Green mountain boys distrusted the polished discipline of New York ; and the New York Schuyler thought those boys brave but dangerously independent. In every great crisis of the war, however, there was a common impulse and devotion, and the welfare of the continent obliterated provincial lines. It is by the few heaven-piercing peaks, not by the confused mass of upland, that we measure the height of the Andes, of the Alps, of the Himalaya. It is by Joseph Warren not by Benjamin Church, by John Jay not by Sir John Johnson, by George Washington not by Benedict Arnold, that we test the quality of the revolutionary character. The voice of Patrick Henry from the mountains answered that of James Otis by the sea. Paul Revere's lantern shone through the valley of the Hudson, and flashed along the clift's of the Blue Ridge. The scattering volley of Lexington green swelled to the triumphant thunder of Saratoga, and the reverberation of Burgoyne's falling arms in New York shook those of Cornwallis in Virginia from his hands. Doubts, jealousies, prejudices, Avere merged in one common devotion. The union of the colonies to secure liberty, foretold the union of the states to maintain it, and wherever we stand on revolutionary fields, or inhale the sweetness of revolutionary memories, we tread the ground and breathe the air of invincible national union. Our especial interest and pride, to-day, are in the most im- portant event of the Revolution upon the soil of New York. Concord and Lexington, Bunker Hill and Bennington, the Brandywine and Germantown, have had their fitting centennial commemorations, and already at Kingston and Oriskany, New York has taken up the wondrous tale of her civil and military achievements. In proud continuation of her story we stand here. Sons of sires who bled with Sterling on the Long Island shore ; who fought with Herkimer in the deadly Oneida defile ; who defended the Highland forts with George Clinton ; who, with Robert Livingston and Gouverneur Morris, were driven from town to town by stress of war, yet framed a civil consti- 66 Centennial Celebration of tutioii, all untouched by the asperity of the conflict and a noble model for all free states ; sons of sires who, leaving the plough and the bench, gathered on tliis historic war-path — the key of the then civilized continent ; the western battle ground of Eu- rope ; the trail by which Frontenac's Indians prowled to Sche- nectady, and crept to the Connecticut and beyond ; the way by which Sir William Johnson and his army passed in the old French war, and humbled Dieskau at Lake George ; the road along which Abercrombie and his bright array marched to dis- aster in the summer morning, and Amherst marshaled his men to cooperate with Wolf in the humbling of Quebec ; sons of sires, who, mustering here on ground still trembling with the tread of armies, where the air forever echoes with the savage war whoop, or murmurs with the pathetic music of the march and the camp — "Why, soldierB, why Should we bu niflancholy, boys ? Whose business 'tis to die !" even here withstood the deadly British blow and enveloi^ing the haughty Burgoyne, compelled not only him to yield his sword, but England to surrender an empire ; sons of such sires, who should not proudly recall such deeds of theirs and grate- fully revere their memory, would be forever scorned as faith- less depositaries of the great English and American tradition, and the great human benediction, of patient, orderly, self-re- strained liberty. When King George heard of the battle of Bunker Hill, he consoled himself with the thought that New York was still un- swervingly loyal ; and it was the hope and the faith of his ministry that the rebellion might at last be baffled in that great colony. It was a region of vast extent, but thinly peopled, for the poi)ulation was but little more than one hundred and sixty thousand. It had been settled by men of various races, Avho, upon the sea shore, and through the remote valleys, and in the primeval wilderness, cherished the freedom that they brought and transmitted to their children. But the colony lacked that homogeneity of population which produces general sympathy of conviction and concert of action ; which gives a community THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 67 one soul, one heart, one hand, interprets every man's thought to his neighbor, and explains so much of the great deeds of the Grecian commonwealths, of Switzerland, and of Old and New England. In New York, also, were the hereditary manors — vast domains of a few families, private principalities, with feudal relations and traditions — and the spirit of a splendid proprie- tary life was essentially hostile to doctrines of popular right and. power. In the magnificent territory of the Mohawk and its tributaries. Sir William Johnson, amid his family and de- pendants, lived in baronial state among the Indians, with whom he was allied by marriage, and to whom he was the vicar of their royal father over the sea. The Johnsons were virtually supreme in the country of the Mohawk, and as they were in- tensely loyal, the region west of Albany became a dark and bloody ground of civil strife. In the city of New York, and in the neighboring counties of Westchester upon the river and sound, of Richmond upon the bay, and Queens and Suffolk on the sea, the fear that sprang from conscious exposure to the naval power of Great Britain, the timidity of commercial trade, the natural loyalty of numerous officers of the crown, all com- bined to foster antipathy to any disturbance of that established authority which secured order and peace. But deeper and stronger than all other causes was the tender reluctance of Englishmen in America to believe that reconcilia- tion with the mother country was impossible. Even after the great day on Bunker Hill, when, in full sight of his country and of all future America, Joseph Warren, the well-beloved disciple of American liberty, fell, congress, while justifying war, recoiled from declaring independence. Doubtless the voice of John Adams, of Massachusetts, counseling immediate and entire separation, spoke truly for the unanimous and fer- vent patriotism of New England ; but doubtless, also, the voice of John Jay, of New York, who knew the mingled sentiment of the great province whose position in the struggle must be decisive, in advising one more appeal to the king, was a voice of patriotism as pure, and of courage as unquailing. The appeal was made, -and made in vain. The year that 68 Centennial Celebration of opened witli Concord and Lexington, ended witli the gloomy tragedy of the Canada campaign. Pn the last day of the year, in a tempest of sleet and snow, the combined forces of New England and New York made a desperate, futile onset ; and the expedition from which Washington and the country had anticipated results so inspiring was dashed in pieces against the walls of Quebec, The country mourned, but New York had a peculiar sorrow. Leaving his tranquil and beautiful home up- on this river, one of her noblest soldiers — brave, honorable, gentle — the son-in-law of Livingston, the friend of Schuyler, after a brief career of glory, died the death of a liero. " You shall not blush for your Montgomery," he said to his bride as he left her. For fifty years a widow, his bride saw him no more. But while this stately river flows through the mountains to the sea, its waves will still proudly murmur the name, and recall the romantic and heroic story of Richard Montgomery. The year 1776 was not less gloomy for the American cause. Late in November Washington was hurriedly retreating across New Jersey, pursued by Cornwallis, his army crumbling with every step, the state paralyzed with terror, congress flying affrighted from Philadelphia to Baltimore, and the apparent sole remaining hope of American independence, the rigor of winter, snow, and impassable roads. Ah, no ! It was not in winter but in summer that that hope lay, not in the relentless frost of the elements, but in the heavenly fire of hearts beating higli with patriotic resolve, and turning the snow flakes of that terrible retreat into immortal roses of victoiy and joy. While Howe and his officers, in the warm luxury and wild debauchery of the city they had captured, believed the war ended, gaily sang and madly cai'oused, Washington, in the dreary Christ- mas evening, turned on the ice of the Delaware, and struck the Hessians fatally at Trenton ; then in the cold January sunrise, defeating the British at Princetown, his army filed with bleed- ing feet into the highlands of New Jersey, and half starved and scantily clothed, encamped upon the frozen hills of Morristown. "The Americans have done much, " said despairingly one of their truest friends in England, Edmund Burke, " but it is now THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 69 evident that they cannot look standing armies in the face." That, however, was to be determined by the campaign of 1777. For that campaign EngLand was already preparing. Seven years before, General Carleton, who still commanded in Canada, had proposed to hold the water line between the gulf of St. Lawrence and the bay of New York, to prevent a separation of the colonies. It was now proposed to hold it to compel a sepa- ration. The ocean months of the great waterway were both in complete possession of the crown. It was a historic war path. Here had raged the prolonged conflict between France and England for the control of the continent, and in fierce war upon the waters of New York, no less than on the plains of Abraham, the power of France in America finally fell. Here, also, where it had humbled its proud rival, the strong hand of England grasp- ing for nnjust dominion was to be triumphantly shaken off. This region was still a wilderness. Seventy years before, the first legal land title in it was granted. In 1745, thirty years before the Revolution, it was the extreme English outpost. In 1777, the settlers were few, and they feared the bear and the catamount less than the tory and the Indian. They still built block houses for retreat and defence like the first New Eng- land settlers a hundred and fifty years before. Nowhere during the Revolution were the horrors of civil war so constant and so dire as here. The tories seized and harassed, shot and hung the whigs, stole their stock and store, burned their barns and ruined their crops, and the whigs remorselessly retaliated. The stealthy Indian struck, shrieked and vanished. The wolf and the wild cat lurked in the thicket. Man and beast were equally cruel. Terror overhung the fated region, and as the great invasion approached, the universal flight and devastation recalled the grim desolation in Germany during the thirty years' war. Of that invasion, and of the campaign of 1777, the central figure is John Burgoyne. No name among the British generals of the Revolution is more familiar, yet he was neither a great soldier nor a great man. He was willing to bribe bis old com- rade in arms, Charles Lee, to betray the American cause, and 10 70 Centennial Celebration of he threatened to loose savages upon the Americans for defending it. Burgoyne was an admirable type of the English fashionable gentleman of his day. The grandson of a baronet, a West- minster boy, and trained to arms, he eloped with a daughter of the great whig house of Derby, left the army and lived gaily on the continent. Restored to a military career by political influence, he served as a cai)tain in France, and returning to England was elected to parliament. lie went a brigadier to Portugal, and led a brilliant charge at Valentia d' Alcantara, was complimented by the great Count Lippe, and flattered by the British prime minister. For his gallantry the king of Spain gave him a diamond ring, and with that blazing on his finger he returned once more to Englaiul, flushed with brief glory. There for some years he was a man of pleasure. He wrote slight verses and little plays that are forgotten. Rey- nolds i)ainted his portrait in London, as Ramsay had painted it in Rome. Horace Walpole sneered at h'un for his plays, but Lord Chatham praised him for his military notes. Tall and handsome, graceful and winning in manner, allied to a noble house, a favorite at court and on parade, he was a gay com- panion at the table, the club and the theatre. The king ad- mired his dragoons, and conferred upon him profitable honors, which secured to him a refined and luxurious life. In parlia- ment, when the American war began, Burgoyne took the high British ground, but with the urbanity of a soldier, and he gladly obeyed the summons to service in America, and sailed with Howe and Clinton on the great day that the J>ritish trooi)S marched to Concord. He saw the battle of Bunker Hill, and praised the American courage and military ability, but was very sure that trained troops would always overcome militia. The one American whom he extolled was Samuel Adams. He thought that he combined the ability of Caesar with the astute- ness of Cromwell ; that he led Franklin and all the other leaders, and that if his counsels continued to conti'ol the conti- nent, America must be subdued or relinquished. Burgoyne saw little actual service in this country until he arrived at Quebec on the Gth of May, 1777, as commander of THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 71 the great enterprise of the year. The plan of campaign was large and simple. One expedition led by Burgoyne, was to force its way from Quebec to Albany, through the valley of the Hudson, and another, under St. Leger, was to push through the valley of the Mohawk, to the same point. At Albany they were to join General Howe, who would advance up the river from the bay. By the success of these combined operations, the British would command New York, and New England would be absolutely cut off. This last result alone Avould be a signal triumph. New England was the nest of rebellion. There were the fields where British power was first defied in arms. There were the Green mountains from which Ethan Allen and his boys had streamed upon Ticonderoga. There was Boston bay where the tea had been scattei'ed, and Narra- gansett bay where the Gaspe had been burned, and the harbors of Machias and of Newport, from which the British ships had been chased to sea. There were P"'anueil Hall and the town meeting. There was Boston, whose ports had been closed — Boston with the street of the massacre — Boston, of which King George had bittei'ly said that he would " as lief fight the Bostonians as the French. " There were the pulpits which preached what Samuel Adams called liberty, and Samuel Johnson sedition. The very air of New England was full of de- fiance. The woods rustled it, the waters murmured it, the stern heart of its rugged nature seemed to beat in unison with the stout heart of man, and all throbbed together with the in- vincible Anglo-Saxon instinct of libei'ty. To cut off New Eng- land from her sisters — to seize and hold the great New York valleys of Champlain and the Hudson — was to pierce the heart of the rebellion, and to paralyze America. Here, then, was to be the crucial struggle. Here in New York once more the contest for the western continent was to be decided. Burgoyne had airily said in London, that with an army of ten thousand men he could promenade through America, and now the bril- liant gentleman was to make good his boast. While he was crossing the ocean to begin his task, and when every possible effort should have been made by congress to 72 Centennial Celebration of meet the ample and splendid preparations for the British inva- sion, wretched intrigues displaced General Schuyler in the north- ern department, and it was not until late in May that he was restored to the command. The peril was at hand, but it was impossible to collect men. By the end of June, the entire gar- rison of Ticonderoga and Fort Independence, the first great barrier against the advance of Burgoyne, consisted of twenty- five hundred continentals and nine hundred militia, barefooted and ragged, without proper arms or sufticiont blankets, and lacking every adequate preparation for defense. But more threatening than all, was Sugar-loaf hill, rising above Ticonde- roga, and completely commanding the fort. General Schuyler saw it, but even while he jiointed out the danger, and while General St. Clair, the commandant of the post, declared that from the want of troops nothing could be done, the drums of Burgoyne's army were joyfully beating in the summer dawn ; the bugles rang, the cannon thundered, the rising June sun shone on the scarlet coats of Brittish grenadiers, on the bright helmets of German dragoons, and on burnished artillery and polished arms. There were more than seven thousand trained and veteran troops, besides Canadians and Indians. They were admirably commanded and equipped, although the means of land transport were fatally insufiicient. But all was hope and confidence. The battle flags were unfurled, the word was given, and with every happy augury, the royal standard of England proudly set forward for conquest. On the 1st of July, the brilliant pageant swept up Lake Champlain, and the echoes of the mighty wilderness which had answered the guns of Amherst and the drum-beat of Montcalm, saluted the frigates and the gunboats that, led by a dusky swarm of Indians in bark canoes, stretched between tlie eastern shore, along Avhich Kiedesel and the Germans marched, and the main body advancing with Phillips ui)on the west. The historic waters of Champlain have never seen a spectacle more splendid than the advancing army of Burgoyne. But so with his glittering Asian hordes, two thousand years before, the Persian king advanced to Salamis. At evening the British army was before Ticonderoga. The THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 73 trained eye of the English engineers instantly saw the advan- tage of Sugar-loaf, the higher hill, and the rising sun of the 5th of July glared in the amazed eyes of the Ticonderoga gar- rison, oil the red coats entrenched upon Sugar-loaf, with their batteries commanding every point within the fort, and their glasses every movement. Sugar-loaf had become Mount De- fiance. St. Clair had no choice. All day he assumed indiffer- ence, but quietly made every preparation, and before dawn the next day he stole away. The moon shone", but his flight was undetected, until the flames of a fire foolishly set to a house suddenly flashed over the landscape and revealed his retreat. He was instantly pursued. His rear guard was overtaken, and by the valor of its fierce but hopeless fight gave an undying name to the wooded hills of Hubbardton. TiconderOga fell, and the morning of" its fall was the high hour of Burgoyne's career. Without a blow, by the mere power of his presence, he had undone the electric deed of Ethan Allen ; he had captured the historic prize of famous campaigns. The chief obstruction to his triumphal American promenade had fallen. The bright promise of the invasion would be ful- filled, and Burgoyne would be the lauded hero of the war. Doubtless his handsome lip curled in amused disdain at the flying and fiightened militia, plough boys that might infest but could not impede his further advance. His eager fancy could picture the delight of London, the joy of the clubs, of parlia- ment, of the king. He could almost hear the royal George bursting into the queen's room and shouting, "I have beat all the Americans." He could almost read the assurance of the minister to the proud earl, his father-in-law, that the king de- signed for him the vacant Red Ribbon. But his aspiring am- bition surely anticipated a loftier reward — a garter, a coronet, and at last, Westminster Abbey and undying glory. Ticonderoga fell, and with it, apparently, fell in Europe all hope of the patriot cause ; and in America, all confidence and happy expectation. The tories were jubilant. The wavering . Indians were instantly open enemies. The militia sullenly went home. The solitary settlers fled southward through the forests 74 Centennial Celebration of and over the eastern hills. JEven Albany was appalled, and its pale citizens sent their families away. Yet this panic stricken valley of the upper Hudson was now the field on which, if any- where, the cause was to be saved. Five counties of the state were in the hands of the enemy ; three were in anarchy. Schuy- ler was at Fort Edward with scarcely a thousand men. The weary army of St. Clair, shrunken to fifteen hundred continen- tals, all the militia having dropped away, struggled for a week through the forest, and emei'ged foilorn and exhausted at the fort. Other troops ari'ived, but the peril was imminent. New York was threatened at every point, and with less than five thousand ill-e(|uii»ped regulars and militia to opi)ose the victori- ous Burgoyne, who was but a single long day's march away, with only the forts and the boom and chain in the Highlands to stay Clinton's ascent'from the bay, and only the little gar- rison at Fort Stanwix to withstand St. Leger, General Schuyler and the council of state implored aid fi-om every quarter. A loud clamor, bred of old jealousy and fresh disappointment, arose against Schuyler, the commander of the department, and St. Clair, the commander of the post. The excitement and dis- may were universal, and the just apprehension was most grave. But when the storm was loudest it was pierced by the calm voice of Washington, whose soul quailed before no disaster : " We should never despaii- ; our situation has before been un- promising and has changed for the better ; so I trust it will be again." He sent Arnold to Schuyler, as an accomplished officer, familiar with the country. He urged the eastern states to move to his succor. He ordered all available boats from Al- bany to New Windsor and Fishkill, upon the Hudson, to be ready for any part of his own army that he might wish to de- tach. While thus the commander-in-chief cared for all, each cared for itself. The stout-hearted George Clinton, and the council of New York were thoroughly aroused and alert. Vermont called upon New Hampsliire, and the White mount- ains answered to the Green by summoning Stark and Whipple, who, gatliering their men, liastened to the Hudson. While this wild panic and alarm swept through the country, THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 75 Burgoyne remained for a fortnight at the head of Lake Cham- plain. He, also, had his troubles. He was forced to garrison Ticonderoga from his serviceable troops. His Indian allies be- gan to annoy him. Provisions came in slowly, and the first fatal weakness of the expedition was already betrayed in the inadequate supply of wagons and horses. But the neighbor- ing tories joined him, and counting upon the terror that his triumphaftt progress had inspired, he moved at the end of July from Lake Champlain toward the Hudson. His march was through the wilderness which Schuyler had desolated to the utmost, breaking up the roads, choking with trees the navigable streams, destroying forage, and driving away cattle. But Burgoyne forced his way through, building forty bridges and laying a log-wood road for two miles across a morass. The confidence of triumph cheered the way. So sure was victory, that as if it had been a huge pleasure party, the wives of of- ficers accompanied the camp, and the Baroness Kiedesel came in a calash from Fort Geoi-ge to join her husband with Bur- goyne. But before that slowly toiling army, the startled fron- tier country fled. Almost every patriot house west of the Green mountains and north of Manchester was deserted. The tories, proud of British protection, placed signs in their hats and before their doors, and upon the horns of their cattle, wearing the tory badge, as Gurth wore the collar of Cedric the Saxon. To us the scelie is a romantic picture. The scarlet host of Burgoyne flashes thi-ough the forest with pealing music ; the soldiers smooth the rough way with roystering songs ; the trains and artillery toil slowly on ; the red cloud of savages glimmers on his skirts, driving before him farmers with wives and children, faint and sick with cruel apprehension, flying through a land of terror. To us, it is a picture. But to know what it truly was, let the happy farmer on these green slopes and placid meadows, imagine a sudden flight to-night with all he loves from all he owns, struggling up steep hills, lost in tangled woods, crowding along difticult roads, at every step expecting the glistening tomahawk, the bullet, and the mercies of a foreign soldiery. Not many miles from this spot, the 76 Centennial Celebration of hapless Jane Mac Crea was killed as Burgoyne's savages hurried her away. Her story rang through the land like a woman's cry of agony. This, then, was British chivalry ! Burgoyne, indeed, had not meant murder, but he had threatened it. The name of the innocent girl became the rallying cry for armies, and to a thousand indignant hearts, her blood cried from the ground for vengeance. We come with song and speech and proud commemoration to celebrate the triumph of *this day. Let us not forget the cost of that triumj)!), the infinite suffering that this unchanging sky beheld ; the torture of men ; the heart- break of women ; the terror of little children, that paid for the happiness which we enjoy. Burgoyne reached the Hudson unattackcd. As he arrived, although he had no tidings from below, he heard of the suc- cessful advance in the valley of the Mohawk. St. Leger had reached Fort Stanwix without the loss of a man. It was neces- sary, therefore, for Burgoyne to hasten to make his junction at Albany with Howe and St. Legcr, and on the 6th of August he sent word to Howe that he hoped to be in Albany by the 22d. But, even as he wrote, the blow fatal to his hopes was struck. On that very day the patriots of Tryon county, men of German blood, led by Nicholas Herkimer, were hastening to the relief of Fort Stanwix, which St. Leger had beleaguered. The tale has just been eloquently told to fifty thousand children of the Mohawk valley gathered on the field of Oriskany, and it will be told to their children's children so long as the grass of that field shall grow, and the waters of the Mohawk flow. In the hot summer morning, Herkimer and his men marched under the peaceful trees into the deadly ambush, and in the de})th of the defile were suddenly enveloped in a storm of fire and death. Ah ! blood-red field of Oriskany ! For five doubt- ful desperate hours, without lines, or fort, or artillery, hand to hand, witli knife and rifle, with tomahawk and spear, swaying and struggling, slipping in blood and stumbling over dead bodies, raged the most deadly battle of the war. Full of heroic deeds, full of precious memories ; a sacrifice that was not lost. The stars that shone at eveninrr over the field, saw the Indian THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 77 and the white man stark and stiff, still locked in the death grapple, still clenching the hair of the foe, still holding the dripping knife in his breast. The brave Herkimer, fatally wounded, called for his Bible and tranquilly died. He did not relieve the fort, but it held out until Benedict Arnold, sent by Schuyler, coming up the valley, craftily persuaded St. Leger's Indians that his men were as the leaves of the forest for number. ♦ The savages fled ; St. Leger's force melted away ; the Mohawk expedition had wholly failed, and the right hand of Burgoyne was shattered. Every day lost to the English general was now a disaster. But his fatal improvidence forced him to inaction. He could not move without supplies of food and horses, and an expedi- tion to secure them would also serve as a diversion to favor St. Leger. Three days after Oriskany, and before he had heard of that battle, Burgoyne detached the expedition to Bennington. New England was ready for him there as New York had been at Stanwix. Parson Allen from Pittsfield came in his chaise. Everybody else came as he could, and when the British advance was announced, John Stark marched his militia just over the line of New York, where the enemy was entrenched on the uplands of the Walloomsic, and skillfully surrounding them, the Yankee farmers who had hurried away from their summer work, swept up the hill with fiery and re- sistless fury, seized the blazing guns, drove the veteran troops as if they were wolves and wild cats threatening their farms, and after a lull renewing the onset against fresh foes, the New England militia won the famous battle of Bennington, and the left hand of Burgoyne was shattered. So soon was the splendid promise of Ticonderoga darkened. The high and haughty tone was changed. "I yet do not de- spond, " wrote Burgoyne on the 20th of August, and he had not yet heard of St. Leger's "fate. But he had reason to fear. The glad light of Bennington and Oriskany had pierced the gloom that weighed upon the country. It was everywhere jubilant and everywhere rising. The savages deserted the British camp. The harvest was gathered, and while New 11 78 Centennial Celebration of England and New York had fallen fatally upon the flanks of Burgoyne, Washington now sent Vii-ginia to join New York and New Elngland in his front, detaching from his own army Morgan and his men, the most famous rifle corps of the Revolu- tion. But while the prospect brightened, General Schuyler, by order of congress, was superseded by General Gates. Schuyler, a most sagacious and diligent officer whom Washington wholly trusted, was i-emoved for the alleged want of his most obvious quality, the faculty of comprehensive organization. But the New England militia disliked him, and even Samuel Adams was impatient of him ; but Samuel Adams was also impatient of Washington. Public irritation with the situation, and jeal- ous intrigue in camp and in congress procured Schuyler's re- moval. He was wounded to the heart, but his patriotism did not waver. He remained in camp to be of what service he could, .and he entreated congress to order a speedy and searching in- quiry into his conduct. It was at last made, and left him absolutely unstained. He was unanimously acquitted with the highest honor, and congress approved the verdict. General Schuyler did not again enter upon active military service, but he and Rufus King were the first senators that New York sent to the senate of the United States. Time has restored his fame, and the history of his state records no more patriotic name among her illustrious sons than that which is commemo- rated by this village, the name of Philip Schuyler. Largely re-enforced. Gates, on the 12th of September, ad- vanced to Bemis's Heights, which the young Kosciuszko had fortified, and there he awaited Burgoyne's approach. Bur- goyne's oi'ders had left him no discretion. He must force his way to Albany. With soldierly loyalty, therefore, he must assume that Howe was pushing up the Hudson, and that his own delay might imperil Howe by permitting the Americans to turn suddenly upon him. On the 11th of September he an- nounced to his camp that he liad sent the lake fleet to Canada, that he had virtually abandoned his communications, and that his army must fight its way or perish. On the 1.3th he crossed the Hudson, and then received his first tidings from Howe, in THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 79 a letter from him written long before, and which did not even mention a junction. Burgoyne had already felt himself de- serted if not betrayed, and he comprehended his critical situa- tion. Howe was on the Delaware and Carleton would give him no aid from Canada. The country behind him was already swarming with militia. He was encamped in a dense forest, with an enemy hidden in the same forest before him, whose drum-beat and morning gun he could hear, but whose numbers and position he did not know. Yet while he could see nothing, every movement of his own was noted by an eagle eye in a tree top on the eastern side of the Hudson, and reported to Gates. And when at last Burgoyne marched out in full arraj^ with all the glittering pomp of war, to find the foe in the forest. Gates in- stantly knew it. Burgoyne boldly advanced, his communica- tion with Canada gone, the glory of Ticonderoga dimmed, the union with Howe uncertain, disaster on the right hand and on the left, the peerage and Westminster Abbey both fading from hope, and he suddenly confronted breastworks, artillery and an eager army. He must fight or fly, nor did he hesitate. At eleven o'clock on the morning of the 19th of September, he ad- vanced in three . columns towards Gates's line on Bemis's Heights. At one o'clock the action began ; at four it was general and desperate ; at five, Burgoyne's army was in mortal peril ; at nightfall the Germans had stayed the fatal blow, and the battle ended. Both sides claimed the victory, and the British bivouacked on the field. As on Bunker Hill, the first battle in America which Burgoyne had seen, if this were a British victory another would destroy the British army. Burgoyne huddled his dead into the ground, hastily entrenched and fortified a new position, soothed his discouraged army and meditated a fresh assault. But receiving the good news of Howe's success at the Brandywine, and of the immediate ad- vance of Clinton to break through the highlands of the Hudson and fall upon the rear of Gates, he decided to wait. He was encamped in the wilderness without communications, but he sent word to Clinton that he could hold out until the 12th of October. Again through the forest he heard the morning and 80 Centennial Celebration of evening gun and the shouting of the American camp, and once the joyful firing of cannon tliat he could not understand, but which announced Ameiican victories in his rear. The alarm of the British camp was constant. The picket firing was in- cessant. Officers and men sk'i)t in their clothes. Rations were reduced, and the hungry army heard every night the howling of the wolves that hunted the outskirts of the camp as if mak- ing ready for their prey. At last, with provisions for sixteen days only, and no news from Clinton, Burgoyne summoned his generals for a final council. It was the evening of the 5th of October, and, could he but have known it, Howe at German- town, had again succeeded and Sir Henry Clinton Avas just breaking liis way through the Highlands, victorious and deso- lating. On the very morning that liurgoyne fought his fatal battle, the river forts had fallen, the boom and chain were cleared away, the marauding British fleet sailed intoNewburgh bay, Clinton sent word gaily to Burgoyne, "Here we are ! nothing between us and Albany," while Putnam was hastening up along the eastern bank and Geor-e Clinton along the west- ern, rousing the country and rallying the flying citizens from their alarm. Of all this Burgoyne knew nothing. In his ex- tremity, his own plan was to leave boats, provisions and maga- zines, for three or four days, and falling upon the left of the Americans, to attempt to gain the rear. The German General Riedesel advised falling back toward the lake. The English Fraser was willing to fight. The English Phillips was silent. Compelled to decide, Burgoyne at last determined to reconnoi- tre the Americans in force, and if he thought that an attack would be unwise, then to retreat toward the lake. On the morning of the Tth of October, at ten o'clock, fifteen hundred of the best troops in the world, led by four of the most experienced and accomplished generals, with a skirmishing van of Canadian rangers and Indians moved in three columns to- ward the left of the American position into a field of wheat. They began to cut forage. Startled by the rattling picket fire, the American drums beat to arms, and the British approach was announced at headquarters. Morgan and ihe Virginia sharp- THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 81 shooters were thrown out beyond the British riglit. Poor, with the New York and New Hampshire men, moved steadily through the woods toward the British left, which began the battle with a vigorous cannonade. The Americans dashed forward, opened to the right and left, flanked the enemy, struck him with a blasting fire, then closed and grappling hand to hand, the mad mass of combatants swayed and staggered for half an hour, five times taking and re-taking a single gun. At the first the fire upon the left, the Virginia sharp-shooters, shouting, and blaz- ing with deadly aim, rushed forward with such fury that the appallerl British right wavered and recoiled. Whileit yet stag- gered under the blow of Virginia, New England swept up, and with its flaming muskets broke the English line, which wildly fled. It reformed and again advanced, while the Avhole Ameri- can force dashed against the British center, held by the Ger- mans, whose right and left had been uncovered. The Germans bravely stood, and the British General Phraser hurried to their aid. He seemed u]:)on the British side the inspiring genius of the day. With fatal aim an American sharp-shooter fired and Eraser fell. With him sank the British heart. Three thousand New Yorkers, led by Ten Broeck, came freshly up, and the whole American line, jubilant with certain victory, advancing, Burgoyne abandoned his guns and ordered a retreat to his camp. It was but fifty-two minutes since the action began. The British dismayed, bewildered, overwhelmed, were scarcely within their redoubts, when Benedict Arnold, to whom the jealous Gates, who did not come upon the field during the day, had refused a command, outriding an aid whom Gates had sent to recall him, came spurring up ; Benedict Arnold, whose name America does not love, Avhose ruthless Avill had dragged the doomed Canadian expedition through the starving wilderness of Maine, who volunteering to- relieve Eort Stanwix" had, by the mere terror of his coming, blown St. Leger away, and who, on the 19th of September, had saved the American left, — Bene diet Arnold, whom battle stung to fury, now whirled from end to end of the American line, hurled it against the Great Re- doubt, driving the enemy at the point of the bayonet ; then 82 Centennial Celebration of flinging liiniself to the extreme riglit, and fin ;ling there the Mas- sachusetts brigade, swept it witli liim to the assault, and stream- ing over the bi'eastworks, scattered the Brunswickers who de- fended them, killed their colonel, gained and lield the point which commanded the entire Britisli position, wliile at the same moment his horse was shot under him, and lie sank to the ground wounded in the leg that had been wounded at Quebec, Here, upon the Hudson, where he tried to betray hi^s country, here upon the spot where, in the crucial liour of tlie Revolution, he illustrated and led the American valor that made us free and great, knowing well that no earlier service can atone for a later crime, let us recall for one brief instant of infinite pity, the name that has been justly execrated for a century. Night fell, and the weary fighters slept. Before day dawned, Burgoyne, exhausted and overwhelmed, drew off the remainder of his army, and the Americans occupied his camp. All day the lines exchanged a sharp fire. At evening, in a desolate au- tumn rain, having buried solemnly, amid the flash and rattle of bombs and artillery, his gallant friend, Phraser ; leaving his sick and wounded to the mercies of the foe, Burgoyne who, in the splendid hour of his first advance had so proudly proclaimed " this army must not retreat, " turned to fly. He moved until nearly day-break, then rested from the slow and toilsome march until toward sunset, and on the evening of the 9th he crossed Fish creek and bivouacked in the open air. A more vigorous march — but it was impracticable — would have given him the heights of Saratoga, and secured the passage of the rivei\ But everywhere he was too late. The American sharpshooters hovered around him, cutting off supplies, and preventing him from laying roads. There was, indeed, one short hour of hope that Gates, mistaking the whole British army for its flyiug rear- guard, would expose himself to a destructive ambush and as- sault. When the snare was discovered, the last liope of Bur- goyne vanished, and unable to stir, he sat down grimly north of the creek, whei'C his army, wasted to thirty-four hundred effective men, was swiftly and completely encircled by the Americans, who commanded it at every point, and harassed it THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 83 with shot and shell. Gates, with the confidence of overpower- ing numbers, purposely avoided battle. Burgoyne, deserted by his allies, his army half gone, with less than five days' food, with no word from Clinton, with no chance of escape, prepared honorably to surrender. On the 14th of October, he proposed a cessation of arms to arrange terms of capitulation. His agent, Lieutenant-Colonel Kingston, was received at the crossing of the creek by Adju- tant-General Wilkinson, and was conducted by him, blindfold, to General Gates. Gates's terms required an unconditional surrender of the army as prisoners of war. Burgoyne, anxious to save his army to the king for service elsewhere, insisted that it should be returned to England, under engagement not to serve again in North America during the war. Gates had no wish to prolong the negotiations. He had heard from Putnam that the English army and fleet were triumphantly sweeping up the river, and that he must expect " the worst, " and he therefore hastened to accept the proposition of Burgoyne. But Wash- ington, with his Fabian policy, scorned even by Samuel and John Adams, had made " the worst " impossible. Hanging upon the army of Howe, engaging it, although unsuccessfully, at the Brandywine and at Gerraantown, he had perplexed, de- layed and disconcerted the British general, gaining the time which was the supreme necessity for success against Burgoyne. By reason of Washington's operations, Howe could not strengthen Clinton as they both expected, and Clinton could not move until his slow re-enforcements from over the sea arrived. When they came, he burst through the Highlands indeed, with fire and pillage, and hastened to fall upon the rear of Gates. But before he could reach him, while still forty miles away, he heard the astounding news of Burgoyne's surrender, and he dropped down the river sullenly, back to New York, he, too, baffled by the vigilance, the wariness, the supreme self-command of Washington. For a moment, when Burgoyne heard of Clinton's success, he thought to avoid surrender. But it was too late. He could not, honorably, recall his word. At nine o'clock on the 84 Centennial Celebration of morning of tliis day, a luiiiclred years ago, he signed the con- vention. At eleven o'clock his troops marched to this meadow, the site of old Fort Hardy, and with tears coursing down bearded cheeks, with passionate sobs and oaths of rage and de- fiance, the soldiers kissing their guns with the tenderness of lovers, or with sudden frenzy knocking off the butts of their muskets, and the drummers stamping on their drums, the king's army laid down their arms. No American eyes, except those of Morgan Lewis and James Wilkinson, aids of General Gates, beheld the surrender. As the British troops filed after- wards between the American lines, they saw no sign of exulta- tion, but they heard the drums and fifes playing "Yankee Doodle." A few minutes later, Burgoyne and his suite rode to the headquarters of Gates. The English genei al, as if for a court holiday, glittered in scarlet and gold ; Gates plainly clad in a blue overcoat, attended by General Schuyler in citizen's dress, who had come to congratulate him, and by his proud and happy staff, received his guest with urbane courtesy. They exchanged the compliments of soldiers. " The fortune of war, Geneial Gates, has made me your prisoner. " Gates gracefully replied, "I shall always be ready to testify that it has not. been through any fault of your Excellency. " The generals entered the tent of Gates and dined together. With the same courtly compliment the English general toasted General Washington, the American general toasted the ki'ig. Then, as the English army, witluut artillery or arms, approached on their march to the sea, the two generals stepped ou( in front of the tent, and standing together conspicuous upon this spot, in full view of the Americans and of tlie British army. General Burgoyne drew his sword, bowed, and presented it to General Gates. General Gates bowed, received the sword, and returned it to General Burgoyne. Such was the simple ceremony that marked the turning point of the Revolution. All the defeats, indeed, all the struggles, the battles, the sacrifices, the sufferings, at all times and in every colony, were indispensible to the great result. Concord, Lexington, Bunker Hill, Moultrie, Long Island, Trenton, Oris- THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 85 kany, Bennington, tlie Brandywine, Germantown, Saratoga, Monmouth, Camden, Cowpen, Guilford, Eutaw Springs, York- town, — what American does not kindle as he calls the glorious battle roll of the Revolution ! ^whether victories or defeats, are all essential lights and shades in the immortal picture. But, as gratefully acknowledging the service of all the patriots, we yet call Washington father, so mindful of the value of every event, we may agree that the defeat of Burgoyne determined American independence. Thenceforth it was but a question of time. The great doubt was solved. Out of a rural militia an army could be trained to cope at every point successfully with the most experienced and disciplined troops in the world. In the first bitter moment of his defeat, Burgoyne generously wrote to a military friend, " A better armed, a better bodied, a more alert or better prepared army in all essential points of military institution, I am afraid is not to be found on our side of the question." The campaign in New York also, where the loyalists were strongest, had shown, what Avas afterwards con- stantly proved, that the British crown, despite the horrors of Cherry Valley and Wyoming, could not count upon general or effective aid from the tories nor from the Indians. At last it was plain that if Britain would conquer, she must overrun and crush the continent, and that was impossible. The shrewdest men in England and in Europe saw it. Lord North himself. King George's chief minister, owned it, and grieved in his blind old age that he had not followed his conviction. Edmund Burke would have made peace on any terms. Charles Fox ex- claimed that the ministers knew as little how to make peace as war. The Duke of Richmond urged the impossibility of con- quest, and the historian Gibbon, who in parliament had voted throughout the war as Dr. Johnson would have done, agreed that America was lost. The king of France ordered Fi-anklin to be told that he should support the cause of the United States. In April he sent a fleet to America, and from that time to the end of the war, the French and the Americans battled together on sea and land, until on this very day, the 17th of October, 1781, four years after the disaster of Burgoyne, Cornwallis, on 12 86 Centennial Celebration of the plains of Yorktown, proposed a surrender to the combined armies of France and tlie United States. The terms were set- tled U2:)on our part jointly by an American and a French ofHcer, while Washington and La Fayette stood side by side as the British laid down their arms. It was the suirender of Burgoyne that determined the P'rench alliance and the French alliance secured the final triumph. It is the story of a hundred years ago. It has been ceaselessly told by sire to son, along this valley and through this land. The later attempt of the same foe and the bright day of victory at Plattsburgh on the lake, renewed and confirmed the old hos- tility. Alienation of feeling between the })arent country and the child became traditional, and on both sides of the sea a narrow prejudice survives, and still sometimes seeks to kindle the embers of that wasted fire. But here and now we stand upon the grave of old enmities. Hostile breastwork and re- doubt are softly hidden under grass and grain ; shot and sliell and every deadly missile are long since buried deep beneath our feet, and from the mouldering dust of mingled foemen springs all the varied verdure that makes this scene so fair. While nature tenderly and swiftly repairs the ravages of war, we suffer no hostility to linger in our hearts. Two months ago the British governor-general of Canada was invited to meet the president of the United States, at Bennington, in happy commemoration not of a British defeat but of a triumph of English liberty. So, upon this famous and decisive field, let every unworthy feeling perish ! Here, to the England that we fought, let us now, grown great and strong with a hundred years, hold out the hand of fellowship and peace ! Here, where the English Burgoyne, in the very moment of his bitter humil- iation, generously pledged George Washington, let us, in our high hour of triumph, of power, and of hope, pledge the queen ! Here, in the grave of brave and unknown foemen, may mutual jealousies and doubts and aTiimosities lie buried forever ! Henceforth, revering their common glorious traditions, may England and America press always forward side by side, in noble and inspiring rivalry to promote the welfare of man ! THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 87 Fellow-citizens, with the story of Burgoyne's surrender — the revolutionary glory of the state of New York — still fresh in our memories, amid these thousands of her sons and daugh- ters, Avhose hearts glow with lofty pride, I am glad that the hallowed spot on which we stand compels us to remember not only the imperial state, but the national commonwealth whose young hands here together struck the blow, and on whose older head descends the ample benediction of the victory. On yonder height, a hundred yeai's ago, Virginia and Pennsylvania lay encamped. Beyond, and further to the north, watched New Hampshire and Vermont. Here, in the wooded uplands at the south, stood New Jersey and New York, while across the river to the east, Connecticut and Massachusetts closed the trium- phant line. Here was the symbol of the Revolution, a common cause, a common strife, a common triumph ; the cause not of a class, but of human nature — the triumph not of a colony, but of United America. And we who stand here proudly remem- bering — we who have seen Virginia and New York — the North and the South — more bitterly hostile than the armies whose battles shook this ground — we who mutually proved in deadlier conflict the constancy and the courage of all the states, which, proud to be peers, yet own no master but their united selves — we renew our heart's imperishable devotion to the common Aineiican faith, the common American pride, the common American glory ! Here Americans stood and tri- umphed. Here Americans stand and bless their memory. And hei-e, for a. thousand years, may grateful generations of Americans come to rehearse the glorious story, and to rejoice in a supreme and benignant American Nationality. 88 Centennial Celebration of ALFRED B. STREET'S POEM.' READ BY COL. E. P. HOWE. When fell Rome's fabric in the chasm it wrought Dense darkness rushed without one star of thought : Scowled the whole midnight heaven, one general tomb, Where formless monsters moved in Gothic gloom. What though breathed Music in Proven<;al bowers, And architecture wreathed its fadeless flowers : The loftiest virtues of the soul lay dead Right, swordless, crouched to Wrong's crowned conquering head, And though grand Freedom's essence never dies, It drooped, despairing, under despot skies. If aught it asked, Darius-like the throne At its awed look, in wrathful lightnings shone. Its food the acorn and its home the cell. Its only light but showed its manacle : Until its eye, at throned Oppression's foot, Saw slavery's towering tree, its heart the root, Cast Upas shadow o'er one common grave, With naught but its own soul its life to save. And then it rose; up with one bound it sprang ; Thunder from a clear sky its war-shout rang; — Out like a sunburst, flashed its falchion wide. And gladdened thousands sought its warrior side ; As the mist streaming from some towering crag. It spread the blazon of its glittering flag. In savage gorges which the vulture swept, In lonely caverns where the serpent crept. Close where the tumbling torrent hurled its spray. And shadowy cedars twined a twilight day : Clutching its sword and battling on its knee. Still Freedom fought ; and though the swelling sea Of cruel Wrong still drove it struggling higher It could not quencii its pure celestial fire ; From peak to peak it rose until the height Showed it but heaven wherein to take its flight. » The text gives only euch portions of the poem as, owing to the lateness of the hour, were read on the occasion. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 89 Round flew its glance, it saw its myriad foes Following, still following, rising as it rose ; Following, still following! was no refuge nigh? Naught on the earth, and only in the sky? Round flew its glance, it pierced heyond the wave! Ha ! the New World emerges ! — shall it save ? Hark, a wild cry ! It is the eagle's scream ! See, a broad light, the far league-conquering stream Linking all climates, where it reaching flows ; Its head the snow-drift and its foot the rose. Mountains rise there that know no tread of kings ; Blasts that waft liberty on chainless wings : Lakes that hold skies, the swallow tires to cross ; Prairies, earth-oceans ; woods a whirlwind's toss Would seem a puny streak : and with one tongue All thundered "Come!" the welkin, echoing, rung " Come ! " and it went ; it took its Mayflower flight ; Fierce raged the blast, cold billows hurled their might : Winter frowned stern, it pierced to Freedom's heart; White spread the strand and hunger reared its dart ; Round the frail hut the panther prowled, the gloat Of the wolf's eyeball starred the chimney's throat; Though winter entered in its heart, it braced With strength its frame ; its feet the forest traced Despising hardship ; by the torrent rocked Its bark canoe ; the wild tornado shocked Way through prostrate woods, it grazing, sent No dread, as by its roof it whirling went: From choice it climbed the dizzy cliff" to glance O'er its realm's magnificent expanse. Oh, glorious Freedom ! grandest, brightest gift Kind heaven has given our souls to heavenward lift I Oh, glorious Freedom ! are there hearts so low That its live flame finds there no answering glow ? It soars sublime beyond the patriot's love Stateliest that sways save thought that dwells above. Slaves love their homes, a patriot glad will die For native land, though she in cliains may lie ; Noblest of all the soul that loves to fall In the red front at Freedom's sacred call ; His heart right's shield, he braves the despot's ban. Not for himself to perish but for man. 90 Centennial Celebration of So ^vhen crowned Wrong made here, his first advance, Fhislicd from our fathers wrath's immediate ghince; Freedom their life, tlie sceptre but essayed Attempt, to send their swift hand to their blade. Their serried front said " stay !" their eyes " beware ! Rouse not the still prone panther from his lair ! " But vain the mandate, vain the warning spoke, The king strode onward and the land awoke. Stately the sight recording History shows When the red walls of our Republic rose. Reared in deep woods, beneath a scarce-known sky In punj^ strifes that hardly claimed the eye ; Of lands still trembling with the thundering track Of Saxe and Marlborough ; where startling back Russia's black Eagle had the Crescent hurled Threatening so late to dominate the world. ***** Three threatening strands were woven by the Crown — One stretching up Champlain ; one reaching down The Mohawk valley, w'hose green depths retained Its Tory heart. Fort Stanwix, scarce restrained, And one up Hudson's flood — the three to link Where stood Albania's gables by its brink. Glance at the picture, ere we spread our wing. Of the grand battle whose famed deeds we sing. Here spreads Champlain with mountain-skirted shore — Caniadere Guareniie — open door Of the fierce Iroquois to seek their foes In regions stretching from Canadian snows. West, in a purple dream of misty crag. The Adirondacks wavy outlines drag : East the Green mountains, home of meadowy brooks. Of cross-road hamlets, sylvan school-house nooks, Church-covered hills and lion-hearted men. Taught by the torrent tumbling down the glen. By the grand tempests sweeping round the clitf. By the wild waters, tossing by their skiff. Freedom, till Freedom grew their very life, And slavery with all earthly curses rife. Next the dark Horican, that mountain-vein, Bright islet-spanglecl tassel to Champlain ; THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 91 The Highlands, souled with Washington and grand Witli his high presence watching o'er the land ; Thy heights, oh Bemis ! green with woods, yet white With flalies of tents, zigzag with works and bright Willi flags ; while in perspective, we discern Grouped round giand Washington, with features stern In patriot care and doubt, tlie forms of Wayne, Putnam and Greene and all the shadowy train Of congress, wrapt spectators from afar Of where fierce Battle drove his flasiiiug, thundering car. As when some dream tumultuous fills the night With changeful scenes and plunges past the sight In hazy shapes looks frowning, till at last With all its weird, wild phantasm it is past. So the broad picture as it melts away, And once more in our heart peals out our trumpet-lay. A deep, stern sound ! the startling signal-war ! And up Champlain Burgoyne's great squadron bore. In front his savage ally's bark canoes Flasiiing in all their bravery wild of hues ; Their war songs sounding and their paddles timed ; Next the bateaux, their rude, square shapes sublimed With pennon, sword and bayonet, casting glow In pencilled pictures on the plain below ; Last the grand ships, by queenly Mary led, Where shines Burgoyne in pomp of gold and red, And then in line St. George, Inflexible, And Radeau, Thunderer, dancing on the swell The glad wind made ; how stately shone the scene ! June in the forests, each side smiling green ! O'er lier dark dome the cliestnut's tassels stretched Like golden fingers ; pearl that seemed as fetched From Winter's heart the locust mantled o'er, While its rich, creamy mass the dogwood bore, Like a white helmet with its plumes atop. And the sweet basswood higher appeared adrop With ivory gems : the hemlock showed its edge Fringed with fresh emerald ; even the sword-like sedge Sharp mid the snowy lily-goblets set In the nook shallows, like a spangled net Was jewelled with brown bloom. By curving point 92 Centennial Celebration of Where glittering ripples amber sands anoint With foamy silver ; by deep, crescent bays Sleeping beneath their veil of drowsy haze, By watery coverts shimmering faint in film, Broad, rounded knolls, one white and rosy realm Of laurel blossom, witli the Kalmia-urns Dotted with red, the fleet, as sentient, turns The winding channel ; in tall towers of white The stately ships absorb the emerald light Glossing the lake ; like huge, dark claw-urged crabs Ply the bateaux their poles ; the paddle-stabs Of the canoes make music as they move. Gliding along unjarred, as in its groove The car-wheel glides ; the panther views the scene And bears her cubs within the thicket's screen ; The wolf lifts sharpened ear and forward foot ; Waddles the bear away with startled hoot, As some sail sends a sudden flash of white In the cove's greenery, slow essa3'ing flight The loon rears, flapping, its checked, grazing wings, Till up it struggling flies and downward flings Its Indian whoop; the blue-bird's sapphire spark Kindles the shade; the swarming pigeon's dark Deep blue breaks out ; the robin's warble swells In crumply cadence from^the skirting^dells: And restless rings the bobolink's bubbly note From the clear bell that tinkles in his throat. Thus stately, cheerily move the thronging fleet! O'er the lake's steel the blazing sunbeams beat; But now a blast comes blustering from a gorge. The whitecaps dance ; it bends the tall St. George And even the Thunderer tosses : the array Breaks up; canoe, bateau grope doubtful way Through the dim air; in spectral white each sail Glances and shivers in the whistling gale ; All the green paintings of point, bank and tree Vanish in black and white, and all but see A close horizon where near islands lose Their shapes and distant ranks of forest fuse Into a mass ; at last the blast flies off', Shallows stop rattling, and the hollow cough Of surges into caves makes gradual cease Till on the squadron glides, once jnore in sunny peace. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 93 So in some blue-gold day white clouds up-float In shining throng, and then are dashed remote By a fierce wind, next join in peace again And smoothly winnow o'er the heavenly plain, Or some fleet of wild fowl on the lake Dipping and preening quiet journey take, Till the sky drops an eagle circling low For the straight plunge, wild scattering to and fro. ***** When lay Champlain in eve's gold-plated glass, And rich, black pictures etched the glowing grass, The crews debarked, their camp-fires round would rear, And hang their kettles for their nightly cheer ; Then rose the tents, like mushrooms to the moon, Swords would be edged and muskets polished ; soon Slumber would fan its wings, and in the bright. Soft, delicate peace would croon the summer night. Then the gray day-dawn through the leaves would look. Red coats would gleam iu every emerald nook And weapons glitter; as the mist would crawl From the smooth lake and up the forest-wall, Sails would shine out and spottings of canoe Moored with bateau would thicken on the view ; Rings of dead ashes, fallen trees half burned, Trunks into black Egyptian marble turned. Where curling fires had scorched the streaky moss, Roofs of dead leaves where branches stooped across. And soil burned black and smoking still would show Where through the night had shone the camp-fire glow ; Limbs drooping down and logs with gaping cuts Where the brigade had reared their bushy huts; A deer's head on a stump, a bear skin cast On trampled ferns — the red man's late repast; The damp drum's beat would sound, and shrilly fife. Dingle and aisle would flash with martial life ; Once more the fleet would start and.up their way Take as the whole scene brightened into day. On Lady Mary's deck Burgoyne would stand. Drinking the sights and sounds at either hand. Replete with beauty to his poet-heart, Laughing to scorn man's paltry works of art, 13 94 Centennial Celebration of The firass}' vista witli its grazing deer, The lone loon soaring on its shy career, The witiiered pine tree with its fish-hawk nest, The eagle eyrie on some craggy crest, The rich white lilies that wild shallow told. Their yellow sisters with their globes of gold At the stream's mouth ; the ever changeful lake, Here a green gleaming, there a shadowy rake Of scudding air-breath ; here a dazzling flash Searing the eyeball ; there a sudden dash Of white from some swift cloud ; a streak of white The wake of some scared duck avoiding sight. ***** Changing the scene, Burgoyne his camp would trace Round the Red House at the Great Carrying Place ; There when the sun is bright the sentry sees Madame Riedesel dining under trees. As the chasseur beholds her gliding round Ofi" flies his bear-skin helmet to the ground. * * * * * Meanwhile the tidings of Oriskany And Benningt(m careered, and glad and free Hope spread white pinions; throngs to Schuyler pour Swelling his ranks, all abject terror o'er. Poor Jennie's mournful doom has roused an ire Wrapping the region with consuming fire. The boy strode downward in his rustic sleeves. His coarse frock fragrant with the wheateu sheaves; The old blue swallow-tailed artillery coat Trod by the hunting shirt from wilds remote. ***** But on ! the morning dawns : still on ! the height Of Saratoga hails the pallid light Of closing eve, and here at last the weighed And weary step of poor Burgoyne is stayed. Gates follows after from the jewelled isles Of Horican, the stately rocky piles Of blue Luzerne, where the majestic crags Of " Potash Kettles " change the clouds to flags. Within a ball-swept tent Burgoyne sits now In council with despair upon his brow; Curtains of scowling blackness fold him round, Closed is the net and he is firmly bound. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 95 Turns he toward Horican ? the foe is there ! East, Fellows' cannon-lightnings scorch the air. West, the live forest but his coming waits, And in his rear the frowning front of Gates. ***** On the Fort Hardy green, this dainty day, The conquered hosts of England march, to lay Their weapons down. The hour has struck, and now With heavy footstep and with sullen brow They come, but with no patriot eye to see. For nobly Gates in generous sympathy Has banished all within their tents. They come Yet with no banner spread, no beating drum. Tramp, tramp, they come ! tramp, tramping rank on rank! Tramp, tramp, they come! tramp, tramping; hark, that clank 1 Those piling arms! clank, clank ! that tolling knell To bowed Burgoyne ! what bitter, bitter swell Of his proud heart ! ah, sad Burgoyne ! what death To thy high hopes, all vanished like a breath ! * * * * * Loudly may laureled Saratoga claim A marble tribute to her splendid fame ! In the grand chariot which her war-steeds drew She first placed Freedom, pointed to her view The glorious goal. Shall pagan Egypt bid The heavens be cloven with her pyramid ? Shall Greece shrine Phidias in her Parthenon To live till fade the stars and dies the sun ? Rome with her mighty Coliseum whelm The earth with awe ? — a peerless, wondrous realm — And our free nation meanly shrink to write With marble finger in the whole world's sight Grand Saratoga's glory ? Sound aloud Song thy wide trumpet ! let the heavens be bowed With love of country's wrathful thunders, till A reverent people with united will Shall bid the monument arise and stand Freedom's embodied form forever in the land. 96 Centennial Celebration of EX-SENATOR FOSTER'S ADDRESS. In introducing the speaker to the audience, Judge Lester said : Fellow Citizens : I take pleasure in informing you tliat there is on the platform with me the son of a soldier who fought at Bemis's Heights one hundred years ago. (Cheers) But that is not his only title to our esteem. He has served his own state with distinction in the United Slates senate, and iiasheen vice-president of these United States. I have the honor to introduce to you Senator Foster from Connecticut. Ex-Senator Foster then stepping to the front of the platform spoke as follows : Will you pardon rac, fellow citizens, if I say that I am quite in symj^athy with the whole of this vast crowd which surrounds this stand ? The thought that is uppermost in all your minds at this moment I am sure is that he must be a bold man, bold even to rashness, who should dare at this hour of this day to stand before you with the design of making a speech. The eloquence of two most distinguished citizens of the Empire state is yet ringing in your ears. They have discussed the great event which we are assembled to commemorate and per- petuate, in such a manner as to leave nothing to be added ; at least I have not the courage to attempt it, and I trust I have no cowardly blood in my veins, for my father stood on this field one hundred years ago to-day. In the battles which pre- ceded the surrender he bore an active part, and I think thot I am warranted in saying that he performed his duty faithfully and well. My mother had two brothers here. My state had two regiments here, and several troops of Light Horse. So I don't feel myself a stranger or intruder here. Your worthy ex- governor has courteously said, that though this celebration w'as in the state of New York, for a victory won on the soil of New York, it "was not alone a New York celebration. The descend- ants of those from other states, who aided in winning the victory, were here, not as guests, but because they had a right to be here. One of the Connecticut regiments w\as made up from the eastern part of the state, from New London and Windham counties. To that my father belonged. He was a lieutenant in the line and adjutant of the regiment. Colonel THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 97 Latimer was the commander. My father's warrant as adjutant is dated the iVth of October, 1777, and was given on the field. He has been dead fifty-three years, and the earliest recollec- tions of my boyhood are sitting on his knee and listening to the stories of the march, the camp and the battle field, with all the eagerness belonging to that period of life. Those tales made an impression on my mind too deep and too vivid ever to be erased. May I quote to you a stanza of a song, which he was in the habit of singing, especially on the return of this day, a day he never failed to celebrate, as he celebrated the 4th of July. It ran thus : " The ITth of October, The morning being clear, Brave Gates unto his men did say 'My boys be of good cheer, For Burgoyne he is advancing, And we will never fly. But to maintain our chartered rights, We'll fight until we die.' " The eloquent orator who has preceded me has alluded to the manner in which General Arnold bore himself on the field at the final battle before the surrendei*. I well recollect hearing my father say that Arnold came dashing along the line, the speed at which he rode leaving his aid far behind, and as he came up to my father's regiment he called out, " Whose regiment is this ?" My father replied, " Col. Latimer's, sir. " " Ah, " said he, " my old Norwich and New London friends. God bless you ; I am glad to see you. Now come on, boys ; if the day is long enough, we'll have them all in hell before night. " General Arnold was a native of Norwich, and was born within fifty rods of my house in that town. Until after this surrender, we felt proud of him as a son of Connecticut. Subsequently, he be- came a son of perdition, and so we let him pass. Among the numerous incidents that my father used to relate, which occurred a short time prior to the suri-ender of Burgoyne, I call to mind one that I will rejieat. His regiment was or- dered at a certain time to take up a new position. In marching through the woods to the post assigned them, they encountered a body of Hessians who were lying in ambush in their way, and who rose up suddenly and fired upon them. My father was 98 Centennial Celebration of marching by the side of Colonel Latimer. On receiving the enemy's fire, the colonel slapped his hand on his thigh, as my father thought in a rather excited manner, and called out, fire ! The order was very promptly obeyed, and the order to form in line was almost simultaneously given. My fatlier was march- ing with a musket, which he snapped when the order to fire was given, but from some defect in the musket-lock, it stopped at half-cock, and did not go off. Most of the men by this time had changed their positions, and my father was left standing almost alone. He made up his mind, however, not to leave till he had fired his gun. He re-cocked it, took aim again, pulled the trigger and fired. He then took his place in the regiment, and after one or two more volleys, the Hessians retreated in disorder. On reaching their position, the regiment pitched their tents and encamped. My father occupied a tent with Colonel Latimer, and at night, when the colonel pulled off his boots to tui-n in, a bullet droi^ped from one of them on the ground. This led to an examination, and they soon found that his coat which had long pocket-flaps, reaching down on his legs, had a bullet hole through one of the pockets. In that pocket, the colonel had a large pocket-book quite filled with papers, and among them his colonel's commission. The bullet had passed through this pocket-book, and was thus so deadened in its force, that on reaching the colonel's person it made only a slight indentation in the skin and dropped down into his boot. This served to explain the hurried manner of slapping his thigh with his hand when the first fire of the Hessians was i-eceived. The slight twinge which the bullet gave him was immediately •forgotten in Ihe excitement of the occasion. The commission was folded as it lay in the })ocket-book, and when opened, it showed seven bullet holes through it. My father always al- luded to that commission as one tliat a soldier would prize. I would like also to say something of the march of my father's regiment towards Albany the day after the surrender, and the crossing of *' the Sprouts " of the Mohawk — the lateness of the hour forbids. Allusion has been made .to some of the battle-fields famous in THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 99 the world's history, and this is surely worthy of mention in that connection. Dr. Johnson said that man was little to be envied whose patriotism did not grow warmer on the plain of Mara- thon. There certainly can be no man with an American heart in his bosom, whose patriotism is not warmed into a fervid glow on this plain of Saratoga. After the reading of the poem the president of the day closed the exercises as follows : Ladies and Gentlemen : The commemorative exercises of to-day are over. Our first centennial celebration has been made a magnificent success by the eloquence of our speakers and the golden sunshine with which we have been favored. It becomes my duty now to adjourn this meeting for one hundred years. 100 Centennial Celebration of EXERCISES AT THE NORTPI STAND. HON. GEORGE W. SCHUYLER {in the absence of E. H. BULLARD) PRE- SIDING. Prayer by Rev. Joseph E. King, D.D., of Fort Edward, N. Y. Lord God of nalions, our father's God, and ours, we reverently and humbly worship Thee, and grateiully acknowledge Thee as the giver of all good. We bless Thee devoutly, that Thou hast been benignly present in all the history of our country. We bless Thee for the herciic race of wise and patriotic men, whose self-sacrificing and successful exertions to found an independent nation, we are met to commemorate, on this au- spicious day. We bless Thee, also, for the discreet and godly and pa- triotic women of that time, worthy to be the motliers and wives and daughters of the men who vindicated by their counsels and their arms, the right of our infant republic, to take its place among the nations of the earth. Bless us, with thy presence, who unite in these memorial services, inspire the people of this historic valley, witli noble purposes and make us worthy of our ancestors. Vouchsafe thy blessing to this common- wealth and its chief, under whose protection we are met. Bless the president of the United States and all the states which are clustered under that banner which was unfurled in victory here one hundred years ago. Let this nation live ! O, let it not be, that the people whom the mightiest monarchy could not subjugate, whom the most appalling civil war could not divide, should, after all, fall a victim to political corruption and to the weakness and wickedness of intemperance. O impart to us that righteousness which alone exalteth a nation. Grant us, this our prayer, O God, with the pardon of our sins, we humbly beseech Thee through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. INTRODUCTORY ADDRESS OF HON. GEORGE W. SCHUYLER, PRESIDENT OF THE DAY. One liundred years ago General Bnrgoyne, at the head of a large and well appointed army, on these grounds, surrendered to the undisciplined forces of a few millions of people just struggling into national existence. It is only natural that we should forget the event for a moment, and enquire as to the actors in the drama. Standing upon the ground where the surrender was made we look into the past. We see the English general with well disciplined legions and savage allies sweeping through the northern lakes and down through the valley of the THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 101 Hudson, driving the little army of the republic from post to post. In their front we see the army of citizen soldiers, few in number ; without uniform, without supplies, almost without arms, disputing the way step by step, until recruited from the farms and workshops of New England and New York, with a Spartan band from the sunny South, they take position on the heights of Saratoga, and stay the onward progress of the enemy. We see the armies preparing for the contest — there the English regiments, and their German mercenaries, with Canadians and Indians on their flanks — here the patriot army unused to arms, but self reliant and hopeful. We see the form of General Gates at the door of his tent, at a safe distance from the scene of conflict, sending by messengers his orders to his oflicers in the field. We see the fiery Arnold at the head of his command charging furiously — the brave and prudent Lincoln leading his men into the deadly strife — the lion-hearted Morgan with his southern riflemen raining deadly fire on the enemy's wavering ranks — we see thousands of noble heroes intent upon victory or death. Still gazing back off to the left, up the valley of the Mohawk, we behold the dying Herkimer with his patriot band within the toils of Butler's tories and Indian allies at Oriskany — we see the gallant Gansevoort at Fort Schuyler sending word to St. Leger and his beleaguering hosts, " we will hold the fort or die," — and near by we see Hons Yost (termed the half-witted) and one Indian companion, warily threading their way through the forest alone to raise the seige, and relieve the half starved garrisou. Still backward, off to the right, among the green hills of Ver- mont, our gaze rests upon the manly form of the modest and determined Stark. Surrounded with his hardy neighbors they are rejoicing in victory over the cohorts of General Baum. But among the hosts of brave and gallant men there is one that fixes our gazing eyes. In citizen's dress, quiet, dignified, earnest, he looks, as he is, the hero. Pardon me, fellow citizens, while we take a longer look at this one than at the others. 14 102 Centennial Celebration of Fatherless, in his boyhood he assumed tlie jjhice of a father in Ills dead father's family. Reserved and silent, in early youth he began the battle of life. In early manhood his business pur- suits associate him with an English officer with whom against the French of Canada he acquires some knowledge of war. In later years we see him as a legislator contending lor the rights of the people against the abuses of arbitrary power. We see him sacrificing social position and the friendships of years, and voting for the right, sometimes alone. Later the congress place him in command of the northern department with the rank of major-general. He knows the difficulties of the position with no army, no arms, no supplies, no money, no credit. But hfs patriotism will not allow liim to decline, and he accepts the trust with all its responsibilities. In the dei)artment of the north were included the upper valley of the Hudson, the Lakes Geor.ge and Champlain with the con- tiguous territory stretching through the wilderness to Canada ; and the valley of the Mohawk with the almost unknown country beyond to the great lakes. These had been the great highway through which the French for more than a century had led their armies to devastate the outlying settlements, and, if possible, to capture Albany, thus giving them control of the territory west of the Hudson. Through these valleys it was believed the En- glish would now seek to lead their armies, gain possession of Albany and the lower LTudson, thus sundering the colonies and making it easy to subdue the patriots in detail. In anticipation of these designs the northern general organized a force for the invasion of Canada, and by conquering that province securely close the gates through which our state might be attacked. He successfully opposed the influence of Sir William Jolinson and his numerous tory adherents, organized the patriots, and placed the valley of the Mohawk in a position of defence. He procured arms and supplies for the trooj^s, pledging therefor his personal responsibility and his private fortune. His small army under the command of an able general i^enetrates the enemy's country, capturing their forts and strong positions until before the walls of Quebec the gallant Montgomery 1\'1I, when the tide of success is turned. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 103 In the following year he is confronted by a large and well appointed army, before whom his handfull of men is forced to retreat out of Canada through the lakes, down to the Hudson. Another army composed of regulars, Canadians, tories and Indians, marches from Oswego to the upper valley of the Mo- hawk, and lay siege to Fort Schuyler, the only obstacle between them and Albany. Our general has not yet an army sufficiently strong to meet and resist this double invasion. He is without supplies or money. Congress fails to render efficient support. There is disaffection in the ranks, and coldness among the people. But he is not dismayed. He is still hopeful and pleads for assistance. Forced to retreat, step by step he obstructs and delays the ad- vance of the enemy, gaining the needed time for reinforcements to join him. At last reaching a strong defensible position, with an army reunited in numbers and courage, he prepared for bat- tle. He saw his enemy far from his base of supplies, his num- bers depleted by battles and desertions, his line of retreat cut off, and he knew that with a well delivered blow he must sub- mit to capture. But when about to strike, his arm was arrested. His domestic foes had proved more powerful than hostile armies, and had prevailed on congress to remove him from command. Another takes his place, who, almost against his will, delivers the battle already prepared, and is crowned with the glory be- longing to another. Although wronged and insulted, his love of country did not grow cold. His advice and services still sought were rendered cheerfully. He encouraged his friends in the army, and when the victory was won, he rejoiced with perfect satisfaction. Standing on the neighboring heights, he witnessed the destruc- tion of his mills and manufactories, of his houses and barns, of his crops and orchards, by the defeated and fleeing enemy, and called it " the fortune of war." In his tent he received the wid- ows and orphans of enemies slain in battle, soothing their sorrows and supplying their wants. In his own house in the city he gave asylum to the captive general and his officers, winning their sympathies for his oppressed and struggling people. 104 Centennial Celebration of lie saw the reAvards of his own personal Labor and sacrifices bestowed ui)on another, lie saw the crown prepared for him- self placed npon th<5 brow of an alien. He endured detraction and reproach. But his love for the cause never failed. Free- dom from the yoke of England became a passion which no flat- tery could soothe, no wrong extinguish. The memory of General Philii) Schuyler needs no eulogy from one who bears his name, and in wliose veins there is only a trace of collateral blood. History will yetdoliini jusiice. Posterity will crown him the Hero of Saratoga. The nation will recog- nize him as the general who prepared the battle which won our freedom. WILLIAM L. STONE'S HISTORICAL ADDRESS. The battles of the 19th of September and the 7th of October, were so fully described at the Bemis's Heights celebration, that I jjass at once to the occurrences succeeding that event and im- mediately preceding the surrender. On the morning of the day succeeding the action of the 7th of October, Burgoyne, before daybreak, left his position, now utterly untenable, and defiled on to the meadows by the river (Wilbur's basin) where were his supply trains : but was obliged to delay his retreat until the evening, because his hospital could not be sooner removed. He wished also to avail himself of the darkness. The Americans immediately moved forward, and took possession of the abandoned camp. Burgoyne having concentrated his force upon some heights, which were strong by nature, and covered by a ravine running parallel with the intrenchments of his late camp, a random fire of artillery and small-arms was kept up through the day, particularly on the part of the German chasseurs and the provincials. These, stationed in coverts of the ravine, kept up an annoying fire upon every one crossing their line of vision, and it was by a shot from one of these lurking parties that General Lincoln received a severe wound in the leg while riding near the line. It Avas evident from the movements of the British that they were prei)aring to re- treat ; but the American troops, having, in the delirium of joy THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 105 consequent upon their victory, neglected to draw and eat their rations — being withal not a little fatigued with the two days' exertions, fell back to their camp, which had been left standing in the morning. Retreat was, indeed, the only alternative left to the British commander, since it was not quite certain that he could not cut his way through the American army, and his sup- plies were reduced to a short allowance for five days. Meanwhile, in addition to the chagrin of defeat, a deep gloom pervaded the British camp. The gallant and beloved Fraser — the life and soul of the army — lay dying in the little house on the river bank occupied by Baroness Riedesel. That lady has described this scene with such unaffected pathos that we give it in her own words, simply premising that on the previous day she had expected Burgoyne, Phillips, and Fraser to dine with her after their return from the reconnaissance. She says : " About four o'clock in the afternoon, instead of the guests who were to have dined with us, they brought into me upon a litter poor General Fraser, mortally wounded. Our dining table, which was already sj)read, was taken away, and in its place they fixed up a bed for the general. I sat in a corner of the room, trembling and quaking. The noises grew continually louder. The thought that tliey might bring in my husband in the same manner was to me dreadful, and tormented me inces- santly. The general said to the surgeon, ' Do not conceal any thing from me. Must I die ?' The ball had gone through his bowels precisely as in the case of Major Harnage. Unfortunately, however, the general had eaten a hearty breakfast, by reason of which the intestines were distended, and the ball had gone through them. I heard him often, amidst his groans, exclaim, ' O fatal ambition! Poor General Burgoyne! My poor wife!' Prayers were read to him. He then sent a message to General Burgoyne, begging that he would have him buried the follow- ing day at six o'clock in the evening, on the top of a hill which was a sort of a redoubt. I knew no longer which way to turn. The whole entry was filled with the sick, who were suffei-ing Avith the camp sickness — a kind of dysentery. I spent the night in this manner : at one time comforting Lady Ackland, whose 106 Centennial Celebration of husband was wounded and a })nsonc'r, and at anotlier looking after my child ivn, whom T had put to bed. As for myself, I could not go to sleep, as I had General Fraser and all the other gentlemen in my room, and was constantly afraid that my children would wake up and cry, and thus disturb the poor dying man, who often sent to beg my pardon for making me so much trouble. About three o'clock in the morning they told me that he could' not last much longer. I had desired to be apprised of the approach of this moment, I accordingly wrapped up the children in the coverings, and went with them into the entry. Early in the morning, at eight o'clock, he died. ' " After they had washed the corpse, they wrapped it in a sheet and laid it on a bedstead. We then again came into the room, and had this sad sight before us the whole day. At every instant, also, wounded officers of my acquaintance ar- rived, and the caimonade again began. A retreat was spoken of, but there was not the least movement made toward it. About four o'clock in the afternoon I saw the new house which had been built for me, in flames ; the enemy, therefore, were not far from us. We learned that General Burgoyne intended to fulfill the last wish of General Fraser, and to have him buried at six o'clock in the place designated by him. This occasioned an unnecessary delay, to which a part of the misfortunes of the army was owing. " Precisely at six o'clock the corpse was brought out, and we saw the entire body of generals Avith their retinues assisting at the obsequies. The English chaplain, Mr. Brudenell, performed the funeral services. The cannon-balls flew continually around ' General Fraser belonged to the house of Lovatt, whose family name was Fraser. The Earl of Lovatt was one of the noblemen who were corapromlsed by the rebellion of the last Stuart pretender, and whose fortunes were ruined at the battle of CuUoden, in 1745. General Fraser, a scion ol the house, of a sanguine temperament, ardent and ambitious, entered the army, and became so distingiiishcd for his military ability as to be advanced to the rank ol brigadier-general, and was selected for a command in Bur- goyne's expedition. He had received intimations that, if the enterprise were successful, the government would revoke the act of attainder, and restore to him the family title and estates. With a knowledge of these facts, it is easy to understand the meaning of the wounded general's exclamations as he lay waiting for death in the little "Taylor Farm-house" — the lirst alluding to tlie sad extinction of his own cherished hopes of well earned position and renown, the second betraying his anxiety for his commander, whose impending disgrace he clearly foresaw. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 107 and over the party. The American general, Gates, afterwards said that if he had known that it was a burial, he would not have allowed any firing in that direction. Many cannon-balls also flew not far from me, but I had my eyes fixed upon the hill, Avhere I distinctly saw my husband in the midst of the enemy's fire, and therefoi'e I could not think of my own dan- ger." " Certainly," says General Riedesel, in his journal, " it was a real military funeral — one that was unique of its kind." General Burgoyne has himself described this funeral with his usual eloquence and felicity of expression : " The incessant cannonade during the solemnity ; the steady attitude and unal- tered voice with which the chaplain ofiiciated, though frequently covered with dust, which the shot threw uj^ on all sides of him ; the mute but expressive mixture of sensibility and indignation upon every countenance — these objects will remain to the last of life upon the mind of every man who was present. The growing duskiness added to the scenery, and the whole marked a character of that juncture that would make one of the finest subjects for the pencil of a master that the field ever exhibited. To the canvas, and to the faithful page of a more important historian, gallant friend ! I consign thy memory. There may thy talents, thy manly virtues, their progress and their period, find due distinction ; and long may they survive, long after the frail record of my pen shall be forgotten !" As soon as the funeral services were finished and the grave closed, an order was issued that the army should retreat as soon as darkness had set in ; and the commander who, in the begin- ning of the campaign, had vauntingly uttered in general orders that memorable sentiment, " Britons never go back," was now compelled to steal away in the night, leaving his hospital, con- taining tipward of four hundred sick and wounded, to the mercy of a victorious and hitherto despised enemy. Gates in this, as in all other instances, extended to his adversary the greatest humanity. , The army began its retrograde movement at nine o'clock on the evening of the 8th, in the midst of a pouring rain, Riedesel leading the van, and Phillips bringing up the rear with the ad- vanced corps. 108 Centennial Celebration of 111 tliis retreat the same lack of judgment on the part of Bur- goyne is a})ijarent. Had that general, as Riedesel and Phillips advised, fallen immediately back across the Hudson, and taken up his former position behind the Batten kil, not only would his communications Avith Lake George and Canada have been re- stored, but he could at his leisure have awaited the movements of Clinton. Burgoyne, however, having arrived at Dovogat two hours before daybreak on the morning of the 9th, gave the order to halt, greatly to the surprise of his whole army. "Every one," says the journal of Keidesel, " was, notwithstanding, even then of the opinion that the army would make but a short stand, merely for its better concentration, as all saw that haste was of the utmost necessity, if they would get out of a dangerous trap." At this time the heights of Saratoga, commanding the ford across Fish creek, were not yet occuj)ied by the Americans in force, and up to seven o'clock in the morning the retreating army might easily have reached that place and thrown a bridge across the Hudson. General Fellows, who by the orders of Gates, occupied the heights at Saratoga opposite the ford, was in an extremely critical situation. On the night of the 8th, Lieutenant-Colonel Southerland, who had been sent forward to reconnoitre, crossed Fish creek, and, guided by General Fel- lows's fire, found his camp so entirely unguarded that he marched around it without being hailed. He then returned, and report- ing to Burgoyne, entreated permission to attack Fellows with his regiment, but was refused. " Had not Burgoyne halted at Dovogat," says Wilkinson, " he must have reached Saratoga before day, in which case Fellows would have been cut up and captured or dispersed, and Burgoyne's retreat to Fort George would have been unobstructed. As it was, however, Burgoyne's army reached Saratoga just as the rear of our militia were as- cending the opposite bank of the Hudson, where they took post and prevented its passage." Burgoyne, however, although within half an hour's march of Saratoga, gav^ the surprising order that " the army should bivouac in two lines and await the day." Mr. Bancroft ascribes . this delay to the fact that Burgoyne THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 109 was still clogged with his artillery and baggage, and that the niglit was dark, and the road weakened by rain." But according to the universal testimony of all the manuscript journals extant, the road, which up to this time was sufficiently strong for the passage of the baggage and artillery trains, became, during the halt, so bad by the continued rain that when the army again moved, at four o'clock in the afternoon, it was obliged to leave behind the tents and camp equipage, which fell most oppor- tunely into the hands of the Americans. Aside, however, from this, it is a matter of record that the men, through their officers, pleaded with Burgoyne to be allowed to proceed notAvithstand- ing the storm and darkness, while the officers themselves pro- nounced the delay "madness." But whatever were the motives of the English general, this delay lost him his army, and, per- hajjs, the British crown her American colonies. During the halt at Dovogat's there occurred one of those incidents which relieve with fairer lights and softer tints the gloomy picture of war. Lady Harriet Ackland had, like the Baroness Riedesel, accompanied her husband to America, and gladly shared with him the vicissitudes of campaign life. Major Ackland was a rough, blunt man, but a gallant soldier and devoted husband, and she loved him dearly. Ever since he had been wounded and taken prisoner his wife had been greatly distressed, and it had required all the comforting atten- tions of the baroness to reassure her. As soon as the army halted, by the advice of the latter ~ she determined to visit the American camp and implore the permission of its commander to join her husband, and by her presence alleviate his sufferings. Accordingly, on the 9th, she requested permission of Burgoyne to depart. " Though I was ready to believe," says that general, " that patience and fortitude in a supreme degree were to be found, as well as every other virtue, under the most tender forms, I was astonished at this proposal. After so long an agitation of spirits, exhausted not only for want of rest, but absolutely want of food, drenched in rains for twelve hours together, that a woman should be capable of such an undertak- ing and delivering herself to an enemy, probably in the night, 15 no Centennial Celebration of and uncertain of wljat hands she niiglit fall into, appeared an effort above human nature. The assistance I was enabled to give was small indeed. All I could furnish to her was an open boat, and a few lines, written upon dirty wet paper, to General Gates, recommending her to his protection." In the midst of a driving autumnal storm, Lady Ackland set out at dusk, in an open boat, foi- the American camp, accom- panied by Mr. Brudenell the chaplain, her waiting-maid, and her husband's valet. At ten o'clock they reached the American advanced guard, under the command of Major Henry Dearborn. Lady Ackland herself hailed the sentinel, and as soon as the bateau struck the shore, the party were immediately conveyed into the log-cabin of the major, who had been ordered to detain the flag until the morning, the night being exceedingly dark, and the quality of the lady unknown. Major Dearborn gal- lantly gave up his room to his guest, a iiie was kindled, and a cup of tea provided, and as soon as Lad}^ Ackland made herself known, her mind was relieved from its anxiety by the assurance of her husband's safety. " I visited," says Adjutant-General Wilkinson, " the guard before sunrise. Lady Ackland's boat had put off, and was floating down the stream to our camp, where General Gates, whose gallantry will not be denied, stood ready to receive her Avith all the tenderness and respect to which her rank and condition gave her a claim. Indeed, the feminine figure, the benign aspect, and polished numners of this charming woman were alone sufficient to attract the sym])athy of the most obdurate ; but if another motive could have been wanting to insi)ire respect, it was furnished by the peculiar circumstances of Lady Harriet, then in that most delicate situation which can not fail to interest the solicitudes of every being possessing the form and feelings of a man." ' On the evening of the 9th the main ))ortion of the di'enched and weary army forded Fish creek, waist deep, and bivouacked 1 The kindness which had been sliown to his wife Major Acklniid reciprocated, while on a i)arole in New York, by doins all in his power to mitigate the sfutferings of the Ame- rican ijrisoners. His end was particularly sad. On his return to Rnglnnd he was killed in a duel to which he had been challenged for having warmly defended American courage against the aspersions of a brother officer. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. Ill in a wretchod position in the open air on the opposite bank. Bnrgoyiie remained on the south side of the creek, with Hamil- ton's brigade as a guard, and passed the night in the mansion of General Schuyler. The officers slept on the ground, with no other covering than oil-cloth. Nor did their wives fare better. "I was wet," says the Baroness Riedesel, "through and through by the frequent rains, and was obliged to remain in this con- edition the entire night, as I had no place whatever where I could change my linen. I therefore seated myself before a good fire and undressed my children, after wifich we laid down together upon some straw. I asked General Phillips, who came up to where we were, why we did not continue our retreat while there was yet time, as my husband had pledged himself to cover it and bring the army through. 'Poor woman,' answered he, 'I am amazed at you. Completely wet through, have you still the courage to wish to go further in this weather ? Would that you were our commanding general ! He halts because he is tired, and intends to spend the night here, and give us a supper." ' Burgoyne, however, would not think of a further advance that- night ; and while his army were suffering from cold and hunger, and every one was looking forward to the immediate future with apprehension, "the illuminated mansion of General Schuyler," says the Brunswick Journal, " rang with singing, laughter, and the jingling of glasses. There Burgoyne was sitting with some merry companicns at a dainty sapper, while the champagne was flowing. Near him sat the beautiful wife of an English com- missary, his mistress.' Great as the calamity was, the frivolous general still kept up his orgies. Some were even of opinion that he had merely made that inexcusable stand for the sake of passing a merry night. Kiedesel thought it his duty to remind his general of the danger of tlie halt, but the lattei returned all 1 Were this statement made by the Baroness Riedesel alone, and not by the Brunswick Journal, it would bf necessary to receive it with caution, since her prejudices often carried her unintentionally into extremis. Mr. Fonblanque, however, in his admirable Life and Correspondence of General Burgoyne. admits this by implication, but seeks to leave the impression that the cliarapagne and tlie " flirtation," as he calls it, were in- dulged in to relieve the mental agony consequent upon his defeat. Mr. Fonbliinque's book is characterized by great fairnessand liberality of tone — a circumstance which must commend it to the American reader. 112 Centennial Celebration of sorts of evasive answers." Tliis statement is corroborated by the Baroness Riedesel, who also adds : " The following day General Burgoyne repaid the hospitable shelter of the Schuyler mansion by burning it, with its valuable barns and mills, to the ground, under pretense that he might be better able to cover his retreat, but others say out of mean revenge on the American general." But the golden moment had fled. On the following morning, the 10th, it was discovered that the Americans, under Fellows, were in possession of the Batten kil, on the opjiosite side of the Hudson ; and Burgoyne, considering it too hazardous to attempt the passage of the river, ordered the army to occupy the same quarters on the heights of Saratoga which they had used on first crossing the river on the 13th of September. At the same time he sent ahead a working party to open a road to Fort Edward, his intention being to continue his retreat along the west bank of the Hudson to the front of that fort, force a passage across, and take possession of the post. Colonel Cochran, however, had already garrisoned it with two hundred men, and the detachment hastily fell back upon the camp. Meanwhile General Gates, who had begun the pursuit at noon of the 10th with his main army, reached the high ground south of P^'ish creek at four the same afternoon. The departure of Burgoyne's working party for Fort Edward led him to believe that the entire British army were in full retreat, having left only a small guard to protect their baggage. Acting upon this im- pression, he ordered Nixon and Glover, with their brigades, to cross the creek early the next morning under cover of the fog, which at this time of year usually prevails till after sunrise, and attack the British camp. The English general had notice of this plan, and placing a battery in position, he posted his troops in ambush behind the thickets along the banks of the creek, and, concealed also by the fog, awaited the attack, confident of vic- tory. At early daylight Morgan, who had again been selected to begin the action, crossed the creek with his men on a raft of floating logs, and falling in with a British picket, was fired upon, losing a lieutenant and two privates. This led h'un to believe THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 113 that the main body- of the enemy had not moved ; in which case, with the creek in his rear, enveloped by a dense fog, and unac- quainted with the ground, he felt his position to be most critical. MeaM while the whole army advanced as far as the south bank of the creek, and halted. Nixon, however, who was in advance, had already crossed the stream near its confluence with the Hudson, and captured a picket of sixty men and a number of bateaux, and Glover was preparing to follow him, when a de- serter from the enemy confirmed the suspicions of Morgan. This was corroborated, a few moments afterward, by the capture of a reconnoitering party of thirty-five men by the advanced guard, under Captain Goodale, of Putnam's regiment, who, discovering them through the fog just as he iieared the opposite bank, charged, and took them without firing a gun. Gates was at this time at his head-quarters, a mile and a half in the rear ; and before intelligence could be sent to him, the fog cleared up, and exposed the entire British army under arms. A heavy fire of artillery and musketry was immediately opened upon Nixon's brigade, and they retreated in considerable disorder across the creek. General Learned had in the mean time reached Morgan's corps with his own and Patterson's brigades, and was advancing ra- pidly to the attack in obedience to a standing order issued the day before, that, " in case of an attack against any point, Avhether in front, flank, or rear, the troops are to fall upon the enemy at all quarters." He had arrived within two hundred yards of Burgoyne's battery, and in a few moments more would have been engaged at great disadvantage, when Wilkinson reached him with the news that the right wing, under Nixon, had given way, and that it would be prudent to retreat. The brave old general hesitated to comply. " Our brethren," said he, " are engaged on the right, and the .standing order is to attack.'''' In this dilemma Wilkinson exclaimed to one of Gates's aids, stand- ing near, "Tell the general that his own fame and the interests of the cause are at hazard — that his presence is necessary with the troops." Then, turning to Learned, he continued, " Our troops on the right have retired, and the fire you hear is from 114 Centennial Celebration of the enemy. Altliougli I have no ordci's for your retreat, I pledge my life I'or tlie general's approbation." ]}y this time several field officeis had joined the group, and a consultation being held, the proposition to retreat was approved. Scarcely had they faced about, when the enemy, who, expecting their advance, had been watching their movements with shouldered arms, fired, and killed an ofllcer and several men before they niade good their retreat. The ground occupied by the two armies after this engagement resembled a vast amphitheatre, the British occu])yiug the ai'ena, and the Americans the elevated surroundings. Burgoyne's camj), upon the meadows and the heights of Saratoga north of Fish creek, was fortified, and exteuded half a mile parallel with the river, most of its heavy artillery being on an elevated plateau northeast of the village of Schuylerville. On the American side Morgan and his sharp-shooters were posted on still higher ground west of the Biitish, extending along their entire rear. On the east or opposite bank of the Hudson, Fellows, with three thou- sand men, was strongly intrenched behind heavy batteries, while Gates, with the main body of Continentals, lay on the high ground south of Fish creek and parallel with it. On the north. Fort Fdward was held by Stark Avith two thousand men, and between that post and Fort George, in the vicinity of Glen's Falls, the Americans had a fortified camp ; while from the sur- rounding country large bodies of yeomanry flocked in and vol- untarily posted themselves up and down the river. The "trap" which Riedesel had foreseen was already sprung. The Americans, impatient of delay, urged Gates to attack the British camp ; but that general, now assured that the sur- render of Burgoyne was only a question of time, and unwilling needlessly to sacrifice his men, refused to accede to their wishes, and quietly awaited the course of events. The beleaguered arm)- was now constantly under fire both on its flanks and rear and in front. The outposts were continually engaged with those of the Americans, and many of the patrols, detached to keep up communication between the centre and right wing, were taken prisoners. The captured bateaux Avere THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 115 of great use to the Americans, who were now enabled to trans- port troops across the river at pleasure, and re-enforce the posts on the road to Fort Edward. Every hour the position of the British grew more desperate, and the prospect of escape less. There was no place of safety for the baggage, and the ground was covered with dead horses that had either been killed by the enemy's bullets or by exhaustion, as there had been no forage for four days. Even for the wounded there was no spot that could afford a safe shelter while the surgeon was binding up their wounds. The whole camp became a scene of constant lighting. The soldier dared not lay aside his arms night or day, except to exchange his gun for the spade when new entrench- ments were to be thrown up. He was also debarred of water, although close to Fish creek and the river, it being at the haz- ard of life in the daytime to procure any, from the number of sharp-shooters Morgan had posted in trees, and at night he was sure to be taken prisoner if he attempted it. The sick and wounded would drag themselves along into a quiet corner of the woods, and lie down and die upon the damp ground. Nor were they safe even here, since every little while a ball would come crashing down among the trees. The few houses that were at the foot of the heights were nearest to the fire from Fellows's batteries, notwithstanding which the wounded officers and men crawled thither, seeking protection in the cellars. In one of these cellars the Baroness Riedesel ministered to the sufferers like an angel of help and comfort. She made them broth, dressed their wounds, purified the atmosphere by sprink- ling vinegar on hot coals, and was ever ready to perform any friendly service, even those from which the sensitive nature of a woman will recoil. Once, while thus engaged, a furious can- nonade was opened upon the house, under the impression that it was the head-quarters of the English commander. "Alas !" says Baroness Riedesel, " it harbored none but wounded sol- diers or women !" Eleven cannon balls went through the house, and those in the cellar could plainly hear them crashing through the walls overhead. One poor fellow, whose leg they were about to amputate in the room above, had his other leg taken 116 Centennial Celebration of off by one of these cai)non balls in the very midst of the opera- tion. The greatest suffering was experieneed by the wounded from thirst, which was not relieved until a soldier's wife volun- teered to bring water from the river. This she continued to do with safety, the Americans gallantly withholding their fire whenever she appeared. Meanwhile order grew more and more lax, and the greatest misery prevailed throughout the entire army. The commissa- ries neglected to distribute provisions among the troops, and al- though there were cattle still left, no animal had been killed. More than thirty officers came to the baroness for food, forced to this step from sheer starvation, one of them, a Canadian, be- ing so weak as to be unable to stand. She divided among them all the provisions at hand, and having exhausted her store with- out satisfying them, in an agony of despair she called to Adju- tant-General Petersham, one of Burgoyne's aids, who chanced to be passing at the time, and said to him, passionately, " Come and see for yourself these officers who have been wounded in the common cause, and are now in want of every thing that is due them ! It is your duty to make a representation of this to the general." Soon afterward Burgoyne himself came to the Baroness Riedesel and thanked her for reminding him of his duty. In reply she apologized for meddling with things she well knew were out of a woman's province ; still, it was impos- sible, she said, for her to keep silence when she saw so many brave men in want of food, and had nothing more to give them. On the afternoon of the 12th Burgoyne held a consultatiou with Riedesel, Phillips, and the two brigadiers, Hamilton and Gall. Riedesel suggested that the baggage should be left, and a retreat begun on the west side of the Hudson ; and as Fort Edward had been reenforced by a strong detachment of the Americans, he further proposed to cross the river four miles above that fort, and continue the march to Ticonderoga through the woods, leaving Lake George on the right — a plan which was then feasible, as the road on the west bank of the river had not yet been occupied by the enemy. This proposition was ap- proved, and an order was jssued that the retreat should be be- THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 117 gun by ten o'clock that night. But when every thing was in readiness for the inarch, Burgoyne suddenly changed his mind, and i^ostponed the movement until the next day, when an unex- pected maneuver of the Americans, made it impossible. Dur- ing the night the latter, crossing the river on rafts near the Batten kil, erected a heavy battery on an eminence opposite the mouth of that stream, and on the left flank of the army, thus making the investment complete. Burgoyne was now entirely surrounded ; the desertions of his Indian and Canadian allies,^ and the losses in killed and wounded, had reduced his army one-half ; there was not food sufficient for five days ; and not a word from Clinton. Accord- ingly, on the 13th, he again called a general council of all his officers, including the captains of companies. The council were not long in deciding unanimously that a treaty should be at once opened with General Gates for an honorable surrender, their deliberations being doubtless hastened by several rifle- balls perforating the tent in which they were assembled, and an 18-pound cannon-ball sweeping across the table at which Burgoyne and his generals were seated. The following morning, the 14th, Burgoyne proposed a ces- sation of hostilities until terms of capitulation could be arranged. Gates demanded an unconditional surrender, which was refused ; but he finally agreed, on the loth, to more moderate terms, in- fluenced by the possibility of Clinton's arrival at Albany. During the night of the 16th a provincial officer arrived unex- pectedly in the British camp and stated that he had heard, through a third party, that Clinton had captured the forts on the Hudson highlands, and arrived at Esopus eight days pre- viously, and further, that by this time he was very likely at Albany. Burgoyne was so encouraged by this news, that, as the articles of capitulation were not yet signed, he resolved to 1 In justice to Burgoyne it should be stated that the chief cause of the desertion of his Indian allies was the fact that they were checked by him in their scalping and plunder- ing of the unarmed. Indeed, tlie conduct of the English general was, in this respect, most huraiine ; and yet, with strange inconsistency, he was among the first strenuously to urge upon Lord North the employment of the Indians against the colonists. See Fonblanque's work, p. 178, 16 118 Centennial Celebration of repudiate the informal arrangement with Gates. The hitter, however, was in no mood for temporizing, and being informed of this new phase of affairs, he drew up his troops in order of battle at early dawn of the next day, the 17th, and informed him in plain terms that he must either sign the treaty or pre- pare for immediate battle. Riedesel and Phillips added their persuasions, representing to him that the news just received was mere hearsay, but even if it were true, to recede now would be in the highest degree dishonorable. Burgoyne thereupon yielded a reluctant consent, and the articles of capitulation were signed at nine o'clock the same morning. They provided that the British were to march out with the honors of war, and to be furnished a free passage to England under promise of not again serving against the Americans. These terms were not cairied out by congress, which acted in the matter very dishonorably, and most of the captured army, with the exceptions of Burgoyne, Riedesel, Phillips, and Hamil- ton, were retained as prisoners while the war lasted. The Americans obtained by this victory, at a Very critical period, an excellent train of brass artillery, consisting of forty-two guns of various calibre, 4,647 muskets, 400 sets of harness, and a large supply of ammunition. The prisoners numbered 5,804, and the entire American force at the time of the surrender, in- cluding regulars (Continentals) and militia, Avas 17,091 effective men. At eleven o'clock on the morning of the 17th the royal army left their fortified camp, and formed in line on the meadow just north of the Fish creek, at its junction with the Hudson. Here they left their cannon and small-arms. With a longing eye the artillery-man looked for the last time upon his faithful gun, parting with it as from his bride, and that forever. With tears trickling down his bronzed cheeks, the bearded grenadier stacked his musket to resume it no more. Others, in their rage, knocked off the butts of their arms, and the drummers stamped their drums to pieces. Immediately after the surrender, the British took up their march for Boston, whence they expected to embark, and bivou- THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 119 acked the first night at their old eucampment at the foot of the hill where Fraser was buried. As they debouched from the meadow, having deposited their arms, they passed between the Continentals, who were drawn up in parallel lines. But on no face did they see exultation. " As we passed the American army, " writes Lieutenant Anbury, one of the captured officei'S, and bitterly prejudiced against his conquerors, " I did not ob- serve the least disrespect, or even a taunting look, but all was mute astonishment and pity ; and it gave us no little comfort to notice this civil deportment to a captured enemy, unsullied with the exulting air of victors. " The English general having expressed a desire to be form- ally introduced to Gates, Wilkinson arranged an interview a few moments after the capitulation. In anticipation of this meeting, Burgoyne had bestowed the g;reatest care upon his whole toilet. He had attired himself in full court dress, and wore costly regimentals and a richly decorated hat with stream- ing plumes. Gates, on the contrary, was dressed merely in a l^lain blue overcoat, which had upon it scarcely any thing indi- cative of his rank. Upon the two generals first catching a glimpse of each other, they stepped forward simultaneously, and advanced until they were only a few steps apart, when they halted. The English general took off his hat, and making a polite bow, said, " The fortune of war, General Gates, has made rae your prisoner. " The American general, in reply, simply returned his greeting, and said, " I shall always be ready to" testify that it ha's not been through any fault of your excel- lency. " As soon as the introduction was over, the other cap- tive genei-als repaired to the tent of Gates, where they were received with the utmost courtesy, and with the consideration due to brave but unfortunate men. After Riedesel had been presented to Gen. Gates, he sent for his wife and children. It is to this circumstance that we owe the portraiture of a lovely trait in General Schuyler's character. "In the passage through the American camp," the baroness writes, " I observed, with great satisfaction, that no one cast at us scornful glances ; on the contrary, they all greeted me, even 120 Centennial Celebration of showing compassion on their countenances at seeing a mother with her little children in such a situation. I confess I feared to come into the enemy's camp, as the thing was so entirely new to me. When I approached the tents, a noble looking man came toward me, took the children out of the wagon, embraced and kissed them, and then, with tears in his eyes, helped me also to alight. He then led me to the tent of General Gates, witli whom I found Generals Burgoyne and Phillips, who were upon an extremely friendly footing with him. Presently the man, who had received me so kindly, came up and said to me, ' It may be embarrrassing to you to dine with all these gentle- men ; come now with your children into my tent, where I will give you, it is true, a frugal meal, but one that will be accom- panied by the best of wishes.' ' You are certainly,' answered I, ' a husband and a father, since you show me so much kindness.' I then learned that he was the American General Schuyler." The English and German generals dined with the American commander in his tent on boards laid across barrels. The din- ner, which was served up in four dishes, consisted only of ordi- nary viands, the Americans at this period being accustomed to plain and frugal meals. The drink on this occasion was cider, and rum mixed with water. Burgoyne appeared in excellent humor. He talked a great deal, and spoke very flatteringly of the Americans, remarking, among other things, that he admired the number, dress, and discipline of their army, and, above all, the decorum and regularity that were observed. " Your fund of men," he said to Gates, "is inexhaustible ; like the Hydra's head, when cut off, seven more spring up in its stead," He also proposed a toast to General Washington ■ — an attention that Gates returned by drinking the health of the king of England. The conversation on both sides was unrestrained, affable, and free. Indeed, the conduct of Gates throughout, after the terms of the surrender had been adjusted, was marked with e(iual deli- cacy and magnanimity, as Burgoyiic himself admitted in a letter to the Earl of Derby. In^that letter the captive general particu- larly mentioned one circumstance, which, he said, exceeded all he had ever seen or read of on a like occasion. It was that THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 121 when the British soldiers had marched out of their camp to the place where they were to pile their arms, 7iot a man of the American troops was to be seen, General Gates having ordered his whole army out of sight, that no one of them should be a spectator of the humiliation of the British troops. This was a refinement of delicacy and of military generosity and polite- ness, reflecting the highest credit upon the conqueror. As the company rose from table, the royal army filed past on their march to the sea board. Thereupon, by preconcerted arrangement, the two generals stepped out, and Burgoyne, drawing his sword, presented it, in the presence of the two armies, to General Gates. The latter received it with a court- eous bow, and immediately returned it to the vanquished general. General Burgoyne added to a prepossessing exterior the polished manners and keen sagacity of a courtier. He was also witty and brave. But personal courage alone does not con- stitute a commander; for of a commander other qualities are expected, especially experience and presence of mind. Bur- goyne lacked both. In his undertakings he was hasty and self-willed. Desiring to do everything alone, he hardly ever consulted with others ; and yet he never knew how to keep a plan secret. While in a subordinate position, continually carp- ing at his military superiors and complaining of the inferiority of his position, yet when given a separate command he was guilty of the same faults which he had reprehended in others. Being a great Sybarite, he often neglected the duties of a gene- ral, as well toward his king as his subordinates ; and while he was enjoying choice food and wines, his army suffered the keen- est want. Soon after the surrender he returned to_ England, and justly threw the failure of the expedition upon the adminis- tration.' He was received very coolly at first by the court and 1 There can be no donbt that had Burgoyne been properly supported by Howe, he would, despite his mistakes, have reached Albany, since in that case Gates would not have been at Still water with an army of men to oppose him. Mr. Fonblanque makes public, for the first time, a fact throwing entire new light on the apparent failure of Howe and clears np all that has hitherto seemed mysterious and contradictory. Orders fully as imperative as those to Burgoyne were to have been sent to Howe, but, owing to the carelessness of Germaine, they were pigeon-holed, and never forvv'arded. Hence Howe acted on the discretionary orders sent him previously, and concluded to go to 122 Centennial Celebration of people, the king refusing to see him ; l)ut, ujion a change of tliL' ministry, he regained somewhat of his poi)iilarity. In regard to General Gates, the same incapacity which after- wards characterized his unfortunate southern campaign was manifested from the time of his assuming the leadership of the northern army until the surrender. It was, perhaps, no fault of his that he had been placed in command at the North just at the auspicious moment when the discomfiture of Burgoyne was no longer problematical. But it is no less true that the laurels won by him ought to have been worn by Schuyler. Wilkinson, who was a member of Gates's own military family, has placed this question in its true aspect. He maintains iliat not only had the army of Burgoyne been essentially disabled by the defeat of the Germans at Bennington, before the arrival of Gates, but that the repulse of St. Leger, at Fort Stanwix, had deranged his plans, while safety had been restored to the western frontier, and the panic thereby caused had subsided. He likewise main- tains that after the reverses at the North, nowise attributable to him, and before the ai-rival of Gates, the zeal, patriotism^ and salutary arrangements of General Schuyler had vanquished the prejudices excited against him ; that by the defeat of Baum and St. Leger, Schuyler had been enabled to concentrate and oppose his whole Continental force against the main body of the enemy ; and that by him, also before the arrival of Gates, the friends of the Revolution had been reanimated and excited to manly resistance, while the adherents of the royal cause were intimidated, and had shrunk into silence and inactivity. From these premises, which are indisputable, it is no more than a fair deduction to say that " the same force which enabled Gates to subdue the British army would have produced a similar effect under the orders of General Schuyler, since the operations of Philadelphia, instead of to Albany, merely telling Clinton, if other reinforcements came meanwhile from England, he might make a divtrsion in favor of Burgoyne. Primarily, then, the lailiire of Burgoyne's expedition was dne to the negligence of the war minister. Even, however, with the failure of Howe's support, Burgoyne. but for his errors, might have joined Clinton. Neither does this failure of flowe palliate the blunders by which he lost his army during the retreat. It should also be stated that Burgoyne, in arr.inging with the Iving for the campaign, insisted most strongly that his success depended on Howe's cooperation. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 123 the campaign did not involve a single instance of professional skill, and the triumph of the American arms was accomplished by the physical force and valor of the troops, under the pro- tection and direction of Ihe God of battles." THE FIELD OF THE GROUNDED ARMS, SARATOGA. WRITTEN IN 1831 BY FITZ GREENE HALLECK. Read by General James Grant Wilson, Halleck's Biographer. Strangers ! your eyes are on that valley fixed Intently, as we gaze on vacancy, When the mind's wings o'erspread The spirit world of dreams. True, 'tis a scene of loveliness — the bright Green dwelling of the summer's first-born hours, Whose wakened leaf and bud Are welcoming the morn. And morn returns the welcome, sun and cloud Smile on the green earth from their home in heaven. Even as a mother smiles Above her cradled boy, And wreathe their light and shade o'er plain and mountain, O'er sleepless seas of grass, whose waves are flowers, The river's golden shores. The forest of dark pines. The song of the wild bird is on the wind, The hum of the wild bee, the music wild, Of waves upon the bank, Of leaves upon the bough. But all is song and beauty in the land, Beneath her skies of June ; then journey on, A thousand scenes like this Will greet you ere the eve. Ye linger yet — ye see not, hear not now, The sunny smile, the music of to-day, Your thoughts are wandering up. Far up the stream of time. And boyhood's lore and fireside-listened tales. Are rushing on your memories, as ye breathe 124 Centennial Celebration of That valley's storied name, Field of the Grounded Arms. Strangers no more, a kindred " pride of place," Pride in the gift of country, aii^l of name, Speaks in your eye and step — Ye tread your native laud. And your high thoughts are on her glorj^'s day, The solemn sabbath of the week of battle. Whose tempest bowed to earth Her foeman's banner here. The forest leaves lay scattered cold and dead, Upon the withered grass that autumn morn, When, with as widowed hearts And hopes as dead and cold, A gallant army formed their last array Upon that field, in silence and deep gloom. And at their conqueror's feet Laid their war-weapons down. Sullen and stern, disarmed but not dishonored; Brave men, but brave in vain, they yielded there The soldier's trial-task Is not alone " to die." Honor to chivalry ! the conqueror's breath Stains not the ermine of his foeman's fame, Nor mocks his captive doom — The bitterest cup of -war. But be that bitterest cup the doom of all Whose swords are lightning-flashes in the cloud Of the invader's wrath. Threatening a gallant land ! His armies' trumpet-tones wake not alone Her slumbering echoes ; from a thousand hills Her answering voices shout, And her bells ring to arms ! The danger hovers o'er the invader's march. On raven wiugs hushing the song of fame. And glory's hues of beauty Fade from lh.e cheek of death. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 125 A foe is beard in every rustling leaf, A fortress seen in every rock and tree, The eagle eye of art Is dim and powerless then, ^ And war becomes the people's joy, the drum Man's merriest music, and the field of death His couch of happy dreams. After life's harvest-home. He battles heart and arm, his own blue sky Above him, and his own green land around, Land of his father's grave. His blessing and his prayers ; Land where he learned to lisp a mother's name. The first beloved in life, the last forgot. Land of his frolic youth. Land of his bridal eve — Land of his children — vain your columned strength. Invaders ! vain your battles' steel and fire ! Choose ye the niorrow's doom — A prison or a grave. And such were Saratoga's victors — such ' The Yeoman-Brave, whose deeds and death have given A glory to her skies, A music to her name. In honorable life her fields they trod, In honorable death they sleep below ; Their souls' proud feelings here Their noblest monuments. B. W. THROCKMORTON'S ADDRESS. SUBJECT, ARNOLD. Who among us has ever gazed upon scenes more magnificent and insi)iring than those by which we are this day surrounded. In Milton's phrase they might " create a soul under the ribs of death." We stand upon holy haunted ground. We gaze upon a vast sea of humanity. Now surging and restless, now lulled to quiet, even as the ocean swells and slumbers. A quickened mass ; awakened to an intensity of patriotism. Above, a clear 17 126 Centennial Celebration op October sky, from which the sunliglit falls like a benediction. Around lis hills rising into mountains, illiiniinated by heroic deeds and events, with no less brightness than that which now glorifies them, shining resplendent as they do in tlieir rich au- tumnal colors, by " nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on." Almost at our feet the historic Hudson, the "still-Avater" of the olden time, glides onward with murmurs harmonious as music heard in dreams. While beyond from the hilltops, wreathed masses of smoke curl ui)\vard from batteries, planted where one hundred years ago other cannons belched forth their fires, signals to the commanders in the field. Participating in the ceremonies of an occasion such as this, surely one may say, life has not been lived altogether in vain, such a celebration has no mere sectional import. It is national in its interest. The pride felt by New York to-day provokes no jealousy in other states. A representative, so to speak, of New Jersey, let me say a word for her. ?Ier sacrifice in blood and treasuie, in pro- portion to her wealth and population, Avas as great, during the revolutionary struggle, as that of any other colony; indeed some historians assert they were greater. She is immortal in the memories of Princeton, Trenton and Monmouth. Some of her troops formed a part of the right wing of Gates's army during the battle of Bemis's Heights, September 19th ; and more would have shared with those of New York and other of the colonies the glories of Saratoga, had they not, with Wa,shington at their head, been engaged in defending their own firesides. New Jersey is jealous of the glorious w^ork she did in securing for this nation its independ- ence, l^et to-day, she congratulates New Y^ork that, upon its soil were fought the battles that, being crowned with victory, secured the French alliance, and dissipated the gloom that had hitherto hung like a pall over the hearts of those who hoped and struggled for the ultimate of American liberty. Orators and poets have this day, already painted the scenes of the past, so glowingly, that they stand out before the imagi- nation even as the colors of the master upon the canvas. There seems to be but little left for me, save the work of THE Surrender OF Burgoyne. 127 needless reiteration. And yet, I cannot refrain from adding my contribution of spoken words to this occasion. In one respect, it almost seems a melancholy one. Who shall say otherwise, when contemplation dwells upon the subsequent career of him, who was perhaps the most con- spicuous actor in the drama, the end of which was announced, when the curtain fell upon the surrender of Burgoyne. Millions have lived upon the earth, and given expression to thoughts that should never die. Heroism has been displayed and sacrifice endured on land and. sea, deserving of deathless memory. Deeds have been performed in' every walk in life that might put to blush many that are recorded as the noblest ; yet, as to these, history is silent. Poetry tunes not her lyre, and not even a name is graven upon churchyard stone. Lives that have benefited the world, seem to have been but as drops that fell into the ocean of time and were lost. A great virtue may never be remembered, but how deathless is a great crime ! But for the valor of Benedict Arnold, there had been no reason, perchance, for the assembling of this vast concourse, and this corner stone might never have been laid, of a monument, which, when completed according to design, will recall with startling and awful emphasis, a deed that blackened a soul, and had for its purpose the ruin of a nation ! Remembering the services Arnold rendered his country upon the battle field of Saratoga, one can almost wish that oblivion might blot his name from the future pages of history. But this could not be. To every virtue, doubtless its reward ! To every evil, its avenging sequel ! And, it would almost seem that the avenging sequel to the evil Benedict Arnold wrought, would affright the world against the crime of treason ! Wounded before Quebec, Arnold wrote : " I am in the way of duty, and I knoAv no fear." " Conscience does make cowards of us all." He knew what "fear" was, when he skulked from the presence of Washington and made his traitor flight from West Point. 128 Centennial Celebration of It was at Saratoga, a century ago, October Vtli, that a shot struck the leg that had been wounded at Quebec. Better a thousand times, it had pierced theheait or cleft tlie brain of liini whose own treachery taught him cowardice. A very okl couplet runs thus : "Burgoyiie, alas, unknowing future fates. Could force his way through woods, but not Through gates." Unmerited honor is even in this quaint rli ynic, bestowed upon one, who, in Schuyler's place, should have stood in citizen's dress beside the commander who received the sword of Bur- goyne. The blows that crippled the English general were struck September 19th, and October 7th, 1777. On the morning of the 19th, both armies were ready for battle. Gates, of whom Bancroft says, " he had no fitness for command, and wanted personal courage," had determined to act upon the defensive within his own lines, and scarcely left his tent throughout the whole of the conflict. Towards noon of the day, a hoarse gun booms its echoes through the surrounding country. It is the signal for the advanced guard of the enemy to move forward. At length a large force push toward the left, right and centre, of the American army. Yielding at last to Arnold's repeated pursuasions and entreaties, Gates permits him to send out Morgan and Dearborn to begin the offensive. American pickets drive back a party of Canadians, tories and savages. Burgoyne prepares to fall upon the American right and centre. Fraser seeks to turn the American left. Arnold makes a rapid and brilliant movement to turn the British right, but fails, because Gates refuses to furnish him with reinforcements. Each army now pressed forward with little knowledge of the other's Tuovemcnts, because of the density of the forest. Unex- pectedly they meet, and a desperate conflict ensues upon the banks of Mill creek, the waters of which run red with blood. Arnold, forced back by Fraser, rallies his men and hurls them upon the foe with an impetuosity that compels the enemy to waver, but with the aid of^fresh troops they stand liriii. There THE SURKENDEK OF BURGOYNE. 129 now comes a lull — like the sudden quiet that precedes the giant storm ; the jjause in which nature seems to steady herself for resistance to the blow that must fall— and the terrible tem- pest of battle is renewed. An intervening wood shelters the Americans. The British are in an open pine forest. Burgoyne recommences his hostilities with a fierce cannonade, orders a bayonet charge, and pushes columns of infantry across the cleared space toward the American troops. The latter, silent and motionless, wait, until the fire of the foe has been drawn, and then hurl themselves with such fury upon them that they are forced back half way. Arnold is at head quarters, plead- ing for reinforcements, in vain. He is told that the battle is again raging. That victory for either side hangs in the balance. Impatiently exclaiming, " I'll soon put an end to it," he mounts his horse and sets off at full speed. His jiresence infuses new ardor into the troops, and for three hours the conflict rages, closing only when darkness enwraps the scene. " But for Ar- nold on that eventful day," says Lossing, " Burgoyne would doubtless have marched into Albany, at the autumnal equinox, a victor." And again during the fearful and decisive battle of October 7th, where was General Gates? Directing his orders from the camp, and part of the time engaged in wordy discussions with his prisoner. Sir Francis Clarke, upon the merits of the Revolu- tion. Where was Arnold ? Refused a command through the jealousy of his superior ofiicer, hurt to the core by the indignity thus heaped upon him, he watches with eager eyes the progress of the battle. He sees Morgan hurl himself with resistless fury upon the British right flank and throw it into confusion ; sees Dearborn with fresh troops attack the shattered masses of the foe upon their front ; sees their terrified flight, but marks their rally under the inspiration of Lord Balcarras ; unable longer to keep down the impetuous ardor that forces him to the front, he puts spurs to his horse and rushes headlong into the conflict. Gates instantly sends Major Armstrong to call him back. Arnold beholds him coming, guesses his purpose, and before it can be carried out, is at the head of three regiments, 130 Centennial Celebration of and in the very thickest of tlie contest. From this moment, mid flame and smoke and the terrible heat of battle, he is the master power. With sword in hand, the incarnation of valor, he encourages by voice and action those who follow him even to a point within the enemy's entienchments. Here, at the head of the troops he has led to victory, the foe in lull retreat, wounded and disabled himself and hishoi'se killed beneath him, he is overtaken by Major Armstrong with Gates's order that he return to camp, lest he " might do something rash." The " rash something " he had already done — made Burgoyne's surrender a foregone conclusion. The student of history, pausing here, might well think a grateful peo^jle would erect upon this scene of conspicuous triumph, a monuiuent dedicated to Arnold alone. But the corner stone of such a monument will never be laid. And when the monument, of which the corner stone is this day laid, shall lift its granite shaft one hundred and fifty feet to- ward the heavens, there will be niches in the four large gables — three filled with groups of sculptured bronze, representing the three generals, Schuyler, Gates and Morgan, the fourth va- cant, with the word "Arnold " underneath. The glory earned by Arnold at Saratoga, is obliterated by his subsequent treason, the reward for which was fifty thousand dollars and the brevet rank of brigadier in the British army. Who shall estimate his punishment ? ITis countrymen exe- crated him. Even one of his own kin could write the scorching acrostic, pronounced by Lossing to be " bad poetry, and worse sentiment. " " Born for a curse to virtue and mankind. Earth's broadest realms ne'er knew so black a mind ; Nislit's sable veil your crimes can never hide, Each one so great 'twould glut historic tide; Defunct, your cursed memory shall live. In all the glare that infamy can give. Curses of ages will attend your name, Traitors alone will glory in your shame. Almighty's vengeance sternly waits to roll Rivers of sulphur on your treacherous soul ; Nature looks shuddering back with conscious dread, ' On such a tarnished blot as she has made. Let hell receive you, rivetted in chains, Doom'd to the hottest focus of its flames. " THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 131 And though he received British gold and rank he was de- spised by the nation that bought him. English statesmen refused to speak in the House of Commons, observing Arnold in the gallery. And upon one occasion when George III was addressing parliament, Benedict Arnold stood at his right hand. Lord Lauderdale, on returning to the Commons, could not restrain an expression of his indignation that his majesty should have been supported by a traitor ! Lord Balcarras, with whom he almost crossed swords at Sara- toga, and who there recognized him as a brave and honorable foe, spurned an introduction, even at the hands of his sovereign, remarking, as he turned upon his heel, " I know General Arnold, and I desijise traitors. " A challenge followed from Arnold. The two met. They were to fire simultaneously. The signal being given, Arnold discharged his weapon. Lord Balcarras turned contemptuously away without even deigning to aim. " My lord, " exclaimed Arnold, " why do you not fire ?" " Sir, " said Lord Balcarras, " I leave you to the executioner. " The prejudice of English officers was so great that when he made apjjlicatiou to serve in the war between England and France, it was denied because they refused to as- sociate with him. . Something of an insight into Arnold's own feelings may be obtained from his reply to Talleyrand, who, knowing him simply as an American, requested some letters to some friends in his own country. His answer was : " I was born in America, and have lived there ; and I am the only man in the wide world who can raise his hand to heaven and say, ' I have not one friend in America ; no, not one ! My name is Bene- dict Arnold.' " The consciousness of crime, the knowledge of the loss of men's regard, the certainty of being an object of loathing, the stings and smitings of conscience are terrible enough, but an immortal, tainted memory, is more terrible still. Throughout ages to come, thousands in each succeeding generation will visit this spot to view the monument that commemorates the surrender 132 Centennial Celebration of of Burgnync. The niche left vacant, will i)vonipt, forever, the question " why V" But one answer can he made. Tliat niche can never really be vacant — eni])ty to the sight — Benedict Arnold will fill it. There he will stand, pilloried before the gaze of centuries, ten thousand times more than if a figure of bronze met the eye with the word " traitor " stamped upon it. The designers of the monument leave that vacant niche from no fondness in contem})lating the dark crime of the traitor, but because of the lesson it must forever teach. By its warning may it help to enkindle throughout the length and breadth of our land a love of country so fervent, that from hencefoilh there will be no need for empty niches in any monuments erected upon our soil, to commemorate American achievements. 1 ' In striking contrast to the sentiments of the acrostic in the text is the following letter, which, itself a model of tenderness and simplicity, was written by Hannah Arnold to Benedict Arnold, and has lately been lurnished me through the kindness ol Hon. Horatio Seymour. The original is in the possession of Miss A. Varick, New York City.— [B. W. T.] N. Haven, June, l!i"5. W " Dear Brother: Take this opportunity pr. Capt. Oswald to congratulate you on your late success in re- ducing Ticonderoga and making yourself master of the vessels on the lakes. Sincerely wish all your future endeavors to serve your country may be crowned with equal su' cess. Pity the fatigue you must unavoidably suffer in the wikU'rness. But as the cause is un- doubtedly a just one hope you may have health, strength, fortitude and valor for what- ever you may be called to. May the broad hand of the Almighty overshadow you ; and if called to battle may the God of armies cover your head in the day of it. Tis to Him and Him only my dear brother that we can look for safety or success. His power is ever able to shield us from the pestilence that walks in darkness and the arrows that fly by noonday. May a Christian resignation to His will strengthen your hands and fortify your heart. May you seek His aid and rest your whole confidence in Him ; and then you will have no fear but 1 1 at of oflending Him; and if we are to meet no more in time may a wise preparation for eternity secure to us a happy meeting in the realms of bliss, where painful sep.irations are lor ever excluded. The men who w\;nt under your care to Boston give you the praises of a very humane, tender officer. Hope those now with you may meet with an equal degree of tenderness and humanity. Your little family arc all well. Benedict is eager to hear everything relative to his papi. Mr. Mansfield, contrary to all expectation, is again able to rid^ out; and his physicians think he is in a fa.r way of recovering a comfortable state of health. Mr. Har- rison, you have undoubteilly heard, is dead by a fit of the apoplexy. We have numl)ers of [jeople daily coming here from N. York and Boston. Capt. Sears, and Mrs. Brown, and Piatt with several other families from York are now here. The world seems a uni- versal flutter and hurry. What the event will be God only knows But in all its changes of this I am certain ; that your health and prosperity are dear to me as my own. Your afl'ectionate sister, Hannau Aknold." THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 133 H. L. GLADDING'S ADDRESS. In listening to the eloquent sentences of the gentlemen who have preceded me on this Centennial occasion, I have been re- minded of the words which the great dramatist puts into the mouth of the Archbishop of Canterbury in reference to Kino- Henry V — "When he speaks, The air, a chartered libertine, is still. And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears To steal his sweet and haueyed sentences." For the scenes of the decisive events which we to-day celebrate and the deeds of the brave men who were actors in them, have been so graphically portrayed that nothing is needed to be added to the noble tribute which has been here paid to the heroes of October, 1777. It is said that on entering the apartment that contains the matchless statue of the Apollo Belvidere, and standing before that most wonderful creation of human genius, there is on the part of the visitor an involuntary straightening up of the figure • a standing erect, and a feeling that his own form dilates, be- coming taller and nobler. And so to-day, coming among these scenes, and standing upon this consecrated ground made forever memorable by an event which gave form and shape to the future destiny of the young republic, there is an instinctive lifting up of the soul ; and as upon this one hundredth anniversary we gather to reverence the memory of its heroes and to call the roll of those gallant men — Morgan, Dearborne, Learned, Ten Broeck, Lincoln, Glover, Poor, Cilley, Kosciusko and Schuyler, and their no less gallant associates in the ranks — the men who took part in or who were instrumental in bringing about this glorious consummation, among whom were some of the noblest figures that ever stood in the forefront of a nation's life — we to-day cannot fail to be imbued with something of the spirit which animated them and a desire to emulate their noble patriotism and their self-sacrific- ing efforts. The declaration of freedom made on the 4th of July, 1776, 18 134 Centennial Celebration of did not iuiinediately bring forth the fruits of freedom. Years of struggle were necessary. A new-born nation, accustomed only to peaceful pursuits, without a standing army, without a navy, was to confront on many fields of bloody strife an old and powerful government ; a government which through hun- dreds of years had been trained in martial arts* which had amassed great Avealth and secured vast material resources, a nation whose armies were the acknowledged conquerors of the earth, and whose flag everywhere proclaimed her the mistress of the seas. The year which followed the declaration of independence witnessed little else than a series of disasters to the cause of the colonists. With the exception of Trenton, Princeton and Ben- nington the long list of reverses to our arms was almost un- broken. It was indeed the most gloomy period of the Revolution ; it was the crisis of the struggle of these colonies for independ- ence. Look at the sad record of the year. First the defeat of Putnam on Long Island, of McDougall at White Plains, of the brave Col. Magaw at Fort Washington, with the loss of two thousand of the best troops in the American army. Then came the abandonment of Ticonderoga, a fortress deemed impregna- ble — the loss of Fort Ann and Fort Edward — the defeat at Hubbardton — the terrible reverse at Brandy wine — the defeat of the impetuous Wayne at Paoli — of Washington himself at Germantown — and the loss of Forts Clinton and ^Montgomery. The mere mention of these names brings to our minds continued scenes of gloom and suffering. For the greater part of the time during these sad months, from August, 1776, to October, 1777, our army, reduced in numbers, depressed by defeat, exhausted by fatigue, naked, barefoot, destitute of tents, and with scanty provisions, was fleeing before a triumphant enemy, who was well appointed and abundantly supplied. And, Avorse than all, the continued triumphs of the British had produced a common apprehension (in the minds of the people of the middle states at least, if not generally), that any further struggle would be use- less and that this country must eventually return to her allegi- ance to Great Britain. THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 135 But this long and gloomy night of defeat and disaster was about to pass away, and joy and a new hope was to spring up in the heart of this people in the bright morning of victory. The conflict of October 7th, 1*777, was to demonstrate the fact that the Continental armies were able to meet the martial hosts of Britain and her mercenaries in the open field, and to scatter them as the dead leaves of the forest before a mighty wind. As the armies of ancient Israel, under divine guidance, were to overcome their enemies, however great in numbers or skilled in war, so under .the direction of the God of battles were our fathers upon these fields to overcome the proud and power- ful hosts of Great Britain. We have heard to-day in glowing words the story of Saratoga. Masters of the art have pictured to us the scenes and incidents of the campaign, Avhich its projectors believed would end in the complete subjection of the colonies to the mother country. We have seen the British general on his triumphant march from Canada, foi-tress after fortress falling an easy prey into his hands. We have seen the hosts of England crossing the Hud- son and for the first time planting their feet upon the soil of old Saratoga. We have seen Burgoyne's army in holiday attire, with drums beating and colors flying, with furbished arms glistening in the sunlight, marching to what they believed would be an assured victory. We have seen that on the 19th of September, this proud army for the first time learned that their march to Albany was not to be a holiday pastime. We have seen the conflict that day waged on both sides with des- perate valor, a conflict that was only closed by the mantle of nio-ht falling over the scene. Then we have been brought face to face with the second act in this terrible drama. We have seen the British army, brought to bay on the memorable 7th of October, making a last desperate effort to cut its way through the ranks of the opposing forces, in the hope to join Sir Henry Clinton upon the lower Hudson. But it was not so to be. General Burgoyne, who on the 6th of August, wrote so confidently to General Howe, "I shall be in possession of Albany on the 22d or 23d3" was indeed to be 136 Centennial Celebration of tliere only a little more than two months later, not however as he had anticipated, in the royal robes of a conqueror, but in the sackcloth of a prisoner of war. Alas ! the sanguine general forgot the proverb — "The man who once did sell the lion's skin While the beast lived, was killed with hunting him." And so on the 7th of October, 1777, the sun went down upon the leagued hosts of Britain and Germany discomtittcd, scattered, overthrown ; and these hosts, with seeming judicial blindness, not availing themselves of their last hope, a speedy retreat,were compelled only ten days later, upon this immediate spot, under the starry flag, then first thrown to the breeze of heaven, to surrender to the hitherto despised army of the colonies. " To the sages who gpoke, to the heroes who bled. To ihe clay and the deed strike the harp-strings of glory ; Let the songs of the ransomed remember the dead. And the tongue of the eloquent hallow the story ; O'er the bones of the bold be the story long told, And on fame's golden tabU'ts their triumphs enrolled. Who on freedom's green hills freedom's banner unfurled. And the beacon fire raised that gave light to the world." As the great law giver of ancient Israel was permitted from the top of Pisgah to look over into the promised land which was soon to become the possession of the Jewish people, so from these green heights one hundred years ago were our fathers enabled to see in the near future the Canaan of freedom spread- ing out in all its radiant beauty before them, and as the leader of the chosen people rejoiced over the prospect of the promised inheritance of his followers, so did our revolutionary sires in that glad hour rejoice that the reward of all their toils was be- fore them. And all over the colonies the full hearts of strong men overflowed with gratitude and went up to heaven on wings of praise to that God who had given them the victory. And there was to be rejoicing elsewhere over this great event, our friends abroad must speedily learn of this glorious success. So the good news goes forth, and the manner in which this news is received in Europe clearly shows that there, as well as here, the event of the surrender of Burgoyne's army was regarded as deci- sive of the final result. "A fast sailing vessel is prepared and a THE Surrender of Burgoyne. 137 special messenger goes to cany the tidings to France, the natural ally of the young re})ublic. The messenger crosses the ocean, arrives at Paris, and pushes on rapidly to Dr. Franklin's residence at Passay; but swiftly as he goes a rumor of the amval of im- portant news precedes him, and on his arrival at Passay he finds the whole circle of official Americans there, who, as the noise of his carriage is heard, hurry out to meet him. Before he has time to alight Dr. Franklin cries out : ' Sir, is Philadelphia taken ?' ' Yes,' replies the messenger, ' but I have greater news than that. Gen. Burgoyne and his whole army are prisoners of war?' Tlie effect was thrilling, electrical, overichelming^ indescribable.'''' In a few days all Europe rang with the news, and except the tory party and the holders of English stocks all Europe rejoiced at it. France immediately threw off the veil with which she had endeavored to conceal her intentions and notified the British govenmient that she had concluded a treaty of alliance, friendship and commerce wi