Saratoga, the battle-- battle ground-- visitors' guide, with maps

Front matter

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Book

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II

It is afternoon. Judge Van Eyck and Mr. Winship are enjoying their cigars and the New York papers in the gentlemen's reading room. The ladies of their party have retired to their cottage, in the south wing of the great hotel, and disposed themselves for an afternoon rest.

Miss Pelham lies on the bed, turning over lazily the pages of her new novel.

Mrs. Harris, on the sofa in the parlor, is lost in one of those short, profound naps that assist in preserving the freshness of ladies on the shady side of forty. Miss Van Eyck has drawn a large easy chair to the window; she opens the manuscript which Mrs. Harris has given her, and reads a sketch of

THE BARONESS RIEDESEL IN AMERICA

On the nth of June, 1777, in the harbor of Quebec, a ship, just arrived from England, cast anchor. On its deck stood the Baroness Riedesel with her three young children, Gustava, Frederika and Caroline ; her faithful maid, Lena, who had followed her from Germany, and another she had hired in England. There the Baroness had been obliged to remain nearly a year, waiting for a suitable transport to Canada; that new land, where her thoughts and desires were constantly drawing her towards the gallant husband who had parted from her in grief, and now, she was sure, awaited her arrival with anxiety and joy.

Gazing wistfully towards the shore she thought, '* scarcely one short hour, and his arms will encircle me."

At this moment the booming of guns from all the ships in the harbor, firing a salute in honor of her arrival, increased her excitement; tears of hope and joy streamed from her beautiful blue eyes, she clasped the little Caroline more closely to her breast, while Gustava and Frederika danced about her, wild with delight, in anticipation of a release from the long confinement of eight weeks on board ship. Their demonstrations of joy increased, when they saw a boat, "containing twelve sailors, dressed in white, with silver helmets and green sashes," approaching the ship to carry them ashore. With it came letters from Gen. Riedesel, informing his wife that he had been unable to await her arrival at Quebec, and had started on the summer campaign with General Burgoyne. Here was a bitter disappointment, but this gentle, resolute woman gave little time to unavailing regrets. Only remaining in Quebec long enough to dine with the wife of General Carleton, and without resting from the fatigues of the long sea voyage, on the evening of the same day the Baroness, with her family, embarked in a small boat and proceeded up the St. Lawrence, hoping to overtake her husband, and spend at least a few hours with him. It was a beautiful moonlight night; they were accompanied by a splendid band of music. Mingled emotions of disappointment and anticipation stirred the sensitive heart of the wife and mother as they glided on so weirdly over the waters of the broad, strange river. The children, wearied with the excitement and novelty of the day, soon feel asleep. At midnight they were awakened, and prepared for a long ride across the country. Three light calashes were provided for them.

" I could not," says the Baroness,

"bring my heart to trust a single one of my children to my women servants; and as our calashes were open and very small, I bound my second daughter, Frederika, fast in one corner; took the youngest, little Caroline, on my lap; while my oldest, Gustava, as the most discreet, sat between my feet on my purse. As I had no time to lose, if I would overtake my husband, I promised a reward to the servants if they would drive very fast, and consequently we went as quickly as vehicles and horses would allow." She rode in this way until the following afternoon, when she made the passage of the Three Rivers in a light canoe, made of bark. At one end of this frail boat the Baroness sat with her three children in her lap, while her servants balanced it at the other end. The boatmen told, her that the slightest movement would overturn the canoe. This frightened little Frederika, who screamed, and tried to jump up. The Baroness, therefore, had to hold her firmly while she continued to scream with great terror. They proceeded in this painful manner until they reached the village of Three Rivers.

At this place the Hessian troops had been in winter quarters, and General Riedesel had left a house prepared for the reception of his family. The distress of the Baroness was increased by the surrounding manifestations of the affectionate care and forethought of her absent husband, in providing for her comfort. The enthusiastic affection and respect with which he was spoken of by the friends he had left here, at once consoled and afflicted her, since she was told that he had been quite sick, and was not yet recovered, and that his illness had been increased by his solicitude for her during the long voyage — rumors having reached him of disasters at sea, that he feared might have robbed him of his little family. The Grand Vicar of the village, sympathizing with her anxiety to join her husband, loaned her a covered calash in which she immediately resumed her journey in pursuit of the advancing army. The weather was exceedingly stormy, and the road difficult and rugged, but she still pushed forward with impatient eagerness. She says, "this vehicle went so rapidly that I could scarcely recover my breath, in addition to which I was so jostled about (as I was constantly obliged to hold my children) that I was completely beaten to pieces.

I was obliged at every post station to stretch out my arms and walk around a little to render my joints more limber."

How touching a picture is this ! A delicate, refined woman, accustomed only to the comfort, luxury and shelter of an old civilization, in a circle of devoted relations and friends, encountering the hardships of the wilderness — self-reliant, courageous, persevering — not for one moment forgetting or neglecting the babes who are dependent on her tenderness, even while her whole soul is absorbed in that intensity of wifely love and devotion that renders her regardless of fatigue, pain, and repeated disappointment. If we are moved with enthusiasm in recalling the valor and self-forgetfulness of the soldier in the service of his country — on the wearying march, and amid the carnage of the field — may we not be equally stirred at a manifestation of heroic endurance and self-abnegation in an exercise of the most sublime of human emotions ? The love that out-strips time, space, obstacles — that endures, waits, yearns, labors for the beloved one, and never wearies, never flags, but grows, strengthens and expands until lost in the immortal love of the hereafter ! Is this mere high-flown sentiment — are these words for romancers and poets ? We need no other answer than a glance at the tired, eager face of this woman, who only typifies a class upon whom the world gazes with blind eyes.

A messenger had been dispatched in advance to inform General Riedesel of the approach of his wife ; he started immediately to meet her; unfortunately as he advanced upon one road, he passed her upon another, and thus by one of those unpropitious chances that often set united efforts at cross purposes, was the union of these anxious hearts still further delayed. Arrived at Chambly, the place from which he had started, the Baroness was advised to await his return. She says, "my children and my faithful Rachel kept a constant watch on the high road, that they might bring me news of my husband's arrival. Finally a calash was descried, having a Canadian in it. I saw from a distance the calash stop still ; the Canadian got out, came nearer, and folded the children in his arms. It was my husband ! As he still had the fever, he was clothed (though it was summer) in a sort of cassock of woolen cloth, bordered with ribbons, and to which was attached a variegated fringe of blue and red, after the Canadian fashion of the country. My joy was beyond all description, but the sick and feeble appearance of my husband terrified me, and a little disheartened me. I found both my elder daughters in tears.

Gustava for joy at again seeing her father, and little Frederika because she saw him in this plight. For this reason she would not go to him at all, but said, " No, no, this is not my papa ; my papa is pretty."

" The very moment, however, • that he threw off his Canadian coat, she tenderly embraced him." How graphically the wife describes the emotions of her children — how little she says for herself. " It was my husband ! My joy was beyond all description," and again : " We remained with each other two happy days."

How inadequate to depict the emotions of the heart are all outward expressions !

Months, years of deferred hope may find their culmination in a few hours of joy ; a lifetime of unselfish motives, of persistent effort, its reward in a few days of rest, a few moments of delight. Yet how may we give utterance to the fullness of joy, the beatitude of culminated hopes !

General Riedesel informed his wife that she could not acompany the army at that time, and that it would be necessary for her to return to Three Rivers, and await the development of events.

The confidence of an assured love, the satisfaction of a mutual appreciation may alleviate the hours of separation, but the heart rebels, and we grieve with the loving wife, who says : " I was forced, to my great sorrow, to go back to Three Rivers. I suffered yet more upon witnessing the departure of the troops against the enemy, while I, with my children, was obliged, alone and deserted, to return and live in a strange land, among unknown people. Sorrowful, and very much cast down, I travelled back.

What a difference between this journey and that which I had made a little while before ! This time I did not move so quickly ; for at every post station, which removed me further from him I loved, my heart was torn open afresh."

A few weeks were passed by Madame Riedesel at the little village of Three Rivers, where with discretion and amiability she adapted herself to the people around her, and found the contentment that ever follows such efforts. In the meantime the British and German forces had swept on victoriously past Ticonderoga, Fort Independence, and Skenesborough. Major Ackland had been wounded at Hubbardton, and his wife was allowed to join him. As soon as this permission was granted, General Burgoyne, bearing in remembrance his own tender solicitude for his lamented wife, thoughtfully turned to General Riedesel, and said : " Your wife shall come too, General ; despatch Captain Willoe to escort her at once."

Captain Willoe soon arrived at Three Rivers, when the Baroness and her family once more joyfully embarked in a small boat, accompanied by another one containing the soldiers, baggage and provisions. The first night they were obliged to land on a small island — the second boat, being heavily laden, had fallen far behind. The little family were without supper and candles or other comforts.

A deserted hut was found, containing some bushes, upon which shawls were spread, and the little ones were induced to lie down to rest. During the night they were frequently disturbed by strange sounds and sudden lights, which could be seen through the chinks of the cabin.

At breakfast, which was spread upon a stone for a table, Madame Riedesel asked the Captain what had caused the alarming sights and sounds. He admitted that he had discovered, when too late to make a change, that this was Rattlesnake Island, so called because a very great number of these reptiles infested the place. He had tried by the unusual sights and sounds to keep them at a distance.

Upon hearing this, the breakfast was hurried, and they left the island as quickly as possible, arriving at St. John's soon after. Here they took passage in larger boats, and had a prosperous and beautiful trip through Lake Champlain and the transparent waters of Lake George. The magnificent scenery was a constant source of delight to the cultivated taste and pure mind of the Baroness, whose happy anticipations were in harmony with the joyous spirit of summer, that seemed to vivify this lovely region with the breath of a living beauty.

As the boat drifted near the shores of the picture-like islands, the delicate colors of the varied wild flowers, and the full-throated carol of the fearless birds, entranced her; and again, in the midst of the broad lake, the grandeur of the primitive forests, the largeness of vision granted by the rarified atmosphere, the rounded, verdant mountains, and the shadowed valleys inspired a depth of thought and gratitude that subdued the impatient eagerness of all purely human affections.

The little family traveled on pleasantly, the children reflecting the happiness of the mother; they soon reached Fort Edward, where Burgoyne's army was then encamped. They were received with unbounded delight by (ieneral Riedesel, and warmly welcomed by the commanding officers. Immediately after this, communication was cut off with Canada, and the Baroness congratulated herself greatly on having been able to join her husband, as otherwise she would have been separated from him during all the years of his captivity.

Upon her arrival, a room was assigned her at headquarters in the Red House; "and here," says the Baroness, "I had the joy of spending three happy weeks in the greatest tranquility. We had a very pleasant life. The surrounding country was magnificent; and we were encircled by the encampments of the English and German troops. The weather was beautiful, and we often took our meals under the trees." She and her children endeared themselves greatly to all the military household. This interest continued through the hardships of the following weeks; and many brave men felt their hearts stirred with sympathy and tenderness towards these gentle beings, who seemed like lovely flowers tossed hither and thither on the tempestuous waves of war.

On the nth of September, the army moved slowly forward over an obstructed pathway, and. thus were the little family often weary and hungry with waiting during the day, and exhausted and sleepy long before they could stop at night.

Madame Riedesel says: "We made only small day's marches, and were very often sick; yet always contented at being allowed to follow. I had still the satisfaction of daily seeing my husband. In the beginning all went well. We cherished the sweet hope of a sure victory, and of coming into the 'promised land;' and when we passed the Hudson river, and General Burgoyne said, ' The P^nglish never lose ground,' our spirits were greatly exhilarated."

After the battle of the 19th of September, and while the British were encamped near Freeman's Farm, Madame Riedesel, with her family, occupied Taylor's house, a mile or two north of the encampment. General Riedesel's headquarters were a long ride from Taylor's.

Madame Riedesel daily visited the camp, and sometimes took breakfast or dinner with her husband, but more frequently he came, accompanied by other officers, to dine with her. Colonel Williams of the artillery, noticing the fatigue to which these visits subjected General Riedesel and his wife, offered to build a blockhouse for her near the camp. She gladly accepted his offer. It was built of heavy logs, and would form a comfortable shelter from the autumn chilliness. General Riedesel was still suffering from the effects of fever, and the Baroness says: *' I was to remove into it the following day and was the more rejoiced at it as the nights were already damp and cold, and my husband could live in it with me, as he then would be near the camp. Suddenly, however, on the 7th of October, my husband, with the whole general staff, decamped. Our misfortunes may be said to date from this moment. I had just sat down with my husband at his quarters to breakfast. General Frazer, and I believe Generals Burgoyne and Phillips, were to have dined with me on the same day. I observed considerable movement among the troops. On my way homeward, I met many savages in their war dress, armed with guns — they cried out 'War! war! ' This completely overwhelmed me, and I had scarcely got back to my quarters, when I heard skirmishing and firing, which by degrees became constantly heavier, until finally the noises were frightful. It was a terrible cannonade, and I was more dead than alive.

About three o'clock in the afternoon, in place of the guests who were to have dined with me, they brought to me, upon a litter, poor General Frazer (one of my expected guests), mortally wounded. Our dining table, which was already spread, 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, lest my husband should be brought to me in the same manner.

Prayers were read to General Frazer, after which he sent a message to General Burgoyne, begging that he would have him buried in the great redoubt on the hill.

" I knew not which way to turn, the whole entry and other rooms were filled with sick. Finally, towards evening, I saw my husband coming, upon which I forgot all my sufferings, and thanked God that he had been spared to me. He ate in great haste with me and his adjutant, behind the house. We had been told we had gained an advantage over the enemy, but the sorrowful and downcast faces which I beheld bore witness to the contrary; and before my husband went away again, he drew me to one side, and said that things might go very badly, and I must keep myself in constant readiness for departure, but to give no one the least inkling of what I was doing.

I, therefore, pretended that I wanted to move into my new house the next morning, and had everything packed up.

" My Lady Ackland occupied a tent not far from our house. In this she slept, but during the day was in the camp. Suddenly one came to tell her that her husband was mortally wounded, and had been taken prisoner. At this she became very wretched, for she loved him very much. She was the loveliest of women. I spent the night in this manner ; at one time comforting her and at another looking after my children, whom I had put to bed. General Frazer and all the other gentlemen were in my room, and I 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. At eight o'clock in the morning he expired. * * 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."

When describing General Frazer's funeral, she says: " Many cannon balls also flew not far from me, but I had my eyes fixed upon the hill, where I distinctly saw my husband in the midst of the enemy's fire, and, therefore, I could not think of my own danger."

Burgoyne, after describing the solemnity of this scene, and the steadiness of the officiating elergyman who was " frequently covered with dust which the shot threw up on all sides of him," thus apostrophises his friend : " 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 ! "

Immediately after the funeral a retreat was ordered. Madame Riedesel entered her calash with her children and maids, and traveled the whole night in a pouring rain. The strictest silence was enjoined lest the enemy should discover the retreat. Little Frederika had became so nervous and frightened by the painful events of the day, that her tears and screams could not be restrained, and her mother was obliged to hold a pocket handkerchief over her mouth to prevent her cries from being heard. At six o'clock in the morning a halt was made.

General Riedesel came up, and being greatly exhausted, dismounted from his horse, and sat in the calash, soon falling asleep with his head on his wife's shoulder. His little daughter now became very docile and quiet, reassured by the presence of her father, whom she loved dearly ; she could easily understand how he would be disturbed, though rebellious against the military order for silence.

The drenching rain continued through this whole day, which was spent without shelter. Several officers brought Madame Riedesel their watches, rings and purses, requesting her to take care of them. She promised to do so, and afterwards found them a source of much anxiety to her. The Baroness says that during this halt, one of her maids " did nothing, cursed her situation, and tore out her hair. I entreated her," she continues, " to compose herself, or else she would be taken for a savage. Upon this she became still more frantic, and tore her bonnet off her head, letting her hair hang down over her face, and said: "You talk well! You have your husband ! But we having nothing to look forward to, but dying miserably on the one hand, or losing all we possess on the other!" To quiet her, I promised to make good all her losses. My good Lena, though much frightened, said nothing."

At night they moved on about half an hour's march, and camped at old Saratoga. Here a good fire was built, the children were warmed, wrapped in dry clothing, and laid upon some straw near the fire to sleep. While sitting near them, distressed and exhausted, General Phillips came up, and she asked him why the retreat was not continued. " 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!" On the next morning the Baroness says : " The greatest misery and utmost disorder prevailed in the army. The commissaries had forgotten, to distribute provisions. More than thirty officers came to me who could endure the pangs of hunger no longer. I had coffee and tea made for them, and divided among them all the provisions with which my carriage was filled. We had a cook, who, although an arrant knave, was fruitful in expedients, and often in the night would steal from the country people, sheep, poultry, and pigs, which he afterwards sold to us for a high price — a circumstance that we only learned a long time afterward."

In the afternoon cannonading was heard, and everything was in confusion.

The Baroness with her family hurried into the calash, and drove to a house near by. As she arrived at the door she saw some men at a distance leveling their guns towards this spot ; she threw her children into the bottom of the calash, and herself over them ; at the same moment a soldier just behind her had his arm shattered by one of these balls.

She hurriedly entered the house which the Americans supposed to be occupied by the Generals ; a heavy fire was directed towards it. Madame Riedesel and her family took refuge in the cellar.

Here, during the whole night, she sat upon the floor, while the terrified children hid their heads in her lap. The sound of cannon balls crashing through the walls of the house above, the cries of the children, the stench of the sick and wounded who had crowded in, and above all, the uncertainty of her husband's fate, contributed to the suffering and anguish of this horrible night, " Yet in this terrible den of affliction, this extraordinary woman preserved her courage and compassion." When the morning came, she prevailed upon all to leave the cellar, until she could have it cleaned and fumigated ; in the meantime she placed the little girls under the cellar stairs, as she feared to trust them a moment from her presence.

When the cellar was cleaned, and the door opened for the women and the wounded to enter, a great rush forward was made by a crowd of frightened and desperate soldiers who had fled from the camp, and now sought a place of safety.

The Baroness and her children were in danger of being crushed and overwhelmed ; she, however, with great resolution and calmness, stood in the doorway, and spreading out her arms, firmly commanded the men to stand back. They shrank away ashamed. The helpless ones were then brought in.

Major Harnage, who was wounded, with his wife, and Mrs. Reynell, whose husband had been killed the day before, curtained off a corner of the cellar, and wished to arrange another corner for the Baroness. She preferred to stay near the door, where she thought she could more readily save her children in case of fire, and where she could the more easily slip out during the night to see if the camp fires were still burning. She was in constant fear that the army would make a hasty retreat, and leave her behind ; she had a great dread of falling into the hands of the Americans. She lived in this dreadful way for six days, and during this time " acted the part of an angel of comfort and help to the sufferers around her. She was ready to perform every friendly service, even those from which the tender mind of woman will recoil.

By her energy she restored order from chaos, and the soldiers obeyed her more readily than their commanding officers."

General Riedesel's horse was kept constantly saddled for her to mount in case of a sudden retreat. Three of the wounded officers, who were resolved not to be left as prisoners, swore to the Baroness that in case of a retreat, they each would take one of her children before him on his horse, and assist her in her flight. They were very fond of the little girls, and often endeavored to quiet their fears. One of the officers could bleat like a calf, and bellow like a cow. When

Freclerika would wake up in the night and cry, he often mimicked these animals, when she would laugh heartily, and thus reassured, fall asleep again.

They suffered greatly for water, as the Americans would not allow the British to approach the river, but picked off with their well aimed rifles every man who attempted it. A soldier's wife was found, however, who undertook this service, and the Baroness was much impressed by the conduct of the Americans in leaving her unmolested on account of her sex.

On the 17 th of October the army capitulated.

After the generals of the conquered army had been received by General Gates, a message was sent to the Baroness, asking her to join her husband in the American camp. Once more she entered the calash that had carried her so many weary miles. Trembling and anxious at the thought of going among strange people in so trying a position, she drove up to the headquarters of the American General. " Here," says she, " a noble looking man approached us and took the children out of the wagon, embraced and kissed them, and then with tears in his eyes, helped me also to alight. ' You tremble,' said he; 'fear nothing.' 'No,' replied I, ' for you are so kind, and have been so tender toward my children, that it has inspired me with courage.' " He was General Philip Schuyler. " He then led her to the tent of General Gates, where they found Generals Phillips and Burgoyne, and the latter said to her: '' You may now dismiss all your apprehensions, for your sufferings are at an end," General Schuyler then took her and her children to his own tent, where he entertained them with considerate hospitality. In the evening he sent an officer to accompany her to Albany.

She was kindly received at his house by Mrs. Schuyler and her daughters, where she remained three days. Upon leaving this hospitable mansion, the Baroness Riedesel, with her husband and children, entered upon the vicissitudes and trials of their long captivity. They traveled with the captured army by land to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where they remained several months, expecting from time to time to embark for England ; when Congress finally refused to ratify the convention of Saratoga, they journeyed again by land to the interior of Virginia, where they put up temporary houses, made gardens, and domesticated themselves as they could in their trying position. Before starting for Virginia, Madame Riedesel gives the following account of the preservation of the German flags : " Now I was forced to consider how I should safely carry the colors of our German regiments still further, as we had made the Americans at Saratoga belive that they were burnt up — a circumstance which they at first took in bad part, though afterwards they'tacitly overlooked it. But it was only the staves that had been burned, the colors having been thus far concealed. Now my husband confided to me this secret, and entrusted me with their still further concealment. I, therefore, shut myself in with a right honorable tailor, who helped me make a mattress in which we sewed every one of them. Captain O'Connell, under pretence of some errand, was sent to New York, and passed the mattress off as his bed. He sent it to Halifax, where we again found it on our passage from New York to Canada, and where — in order to ward off all suspicion in case our ship should be taken — I transferred it into my cabin, and slept during the whole of the remaining voyage to Canada upon these honorable badges."