# Benedict Arnold. A biography/8

CHAPTER VIII.
THE BATTLES OF BEMIS HEIGHTS.
(also known as the first and second Battles of Saratoga.)
IN the very next day after this murder, Burgoyne moved his army down and took possession of Fort Edward; Schuyler withdrew at the same time to Stillwater. While there, Congress took action on the question of Arnold's appointment; they voted against his promotion, three to one. He was both mortified and indignant to learn the result, and this was the first decided expression they had given to their opinion respecting him. He instantly told General Schuyler that he should leave the army; but the latter persuaded him not to heed the partisan clamors that might be raised against him, but to lend his further valuable services to his country; at this critical juncture, too, they were needed more than ever.
Then came the news from the westward, that St. Leger had begun his march from Oswego, and was already laying siege to Fort Schuyler, while his Indians and Tories were devastating the valley. Only a handful of men held the fort; Herkimer had been defeated at the battle of Oriskany, only eight miles off a bloody battle, in which, the brave old man showed the heroic stuff of which his nature was made; and right upon all, an order was sent on from Congress, superseding Schuyler in his command with General Gates. The history of this last transaction would take us too much out of our way just at this time; it is enough to say of it, that it was the most unfortunate thing that could have happened to an army, now, if ever, needing all possible strength and harmony within its own ranks.
Schuyler, therefore, had a chance to practice the same virtue of submission to which he had so earnestly urged Arnold. He wrote to a friend in Congress on the subject, "I am incapable of sacrificing my country to a resentment, however just; and I trust I shall give an example of what a good citizen ought to do when he is in my situation."
He looked at Fort Schuyler, and saw that its fall would be the signal for indiscriminate der and rapine through the valley; and he determined to send forward a force to the relief of the garrison. His officers in council opposed the plan, knowing that they were themselves none too strong, with Burgoyne approaching from the north; and one of them whispered that he meant to weaken the army. He was pacing the floor and smoking his pipe, at the moment, and overheard the slander. Instantly he turned upon his officers, biting the stem of his pipe in several pieces as he did so, and said, "Gentlemen, I shall take the responsibility upon myself! Where is the brigadier that will take command of the relief? I shall beat up for volunteers to-morrow."
Arnold was the man for the sendee, and he stepped forth and volunteered to take the command. At drum beat the next morning, August 16th, a force of eight hundred men was collected, ready to march to the relief of their beleaguered comrades. The fort was finally saved, and saved through nothing but the sagacity and generalship of Arnold; he sent forward, first, a worthless refugee, with several bullet holes in his coat, to make St. Leger believe that he had barely escaped hanging for being taken as a spy; he was also employed to tell St. Leger that Arnold was approaching with an army of over two thousand men. Others were sent forward directly after him, who communicated precisely the same false intelligence. Believing it to be true, St. Leger made as rapid a retreat as he could. He tried to keep the Indians orderly, but it was an idle endeavor. They stole the liquors of the officers, became intoxicated, and acted out their savage natures. St. Leger broke up his camp in the greatest haste at noon, leaving his tents still standing, and relinquishing all his artillery and the most of his ammunition and stores to the Americans. Panic reigned alone.
As soon as the news of this most timely success reached the ears of Schuyler, he rejoiced beyond measure. "Washington heard of it with undisguised satisfaction. The effect was unmistakable. The battle of Bennington had just been fought by brave old General Stark, who told his men in the morning that the red-coats must be theirs before night, or Molly Stark "would be a widow," and the result was received by the country with the greatest delight. Those who were indifferent towards the American cause before, came eagerly into the ranks of the patriots now, swelling the army around Saratoga to a very effective number. A new energy seemed to have been suddenly infused into all minds; when as if some dark fate was in it, General Gates arrived in the carnp and took from General Schuyler the entire command. This was one of those steps taken by Congress at a critical period in our revolutionary history, which always seem at such times to come in for the purpose of confusing all previous arrangements.
Schuyler accepted his subordinate position without a murmur. His conduct at that time stamped him a greater hero than even his courage in the trials and risks of hostile encounters. Gates, however, was a very different man. He came and found his work all blocked out for him. As another writer has observed, everything was ready for the sickle to be put into the harvest when he arrived in the camp. His letters to the commander-in-chief show how large was the measure of his self-conceit, and how delighted he was to find a splendid victory nearly ready to his hand.
General Arnold retraced his steps, after Fort Schuyler was relieved, towards the Hudson. He took the command of the left wing of the army, which was posted at London's Ferry, on the south bank of the Mohawk, about five miles distant from where it joins the Hudson. This position was chosen in order to check Burgoyne, should he attempt to cross the Mohawk and push down to Albany. But the battle of Bennington on the east, and the loss of Fort Schuyler on the west, together with the defection of numbers of his Indians just at this juncture, made it necessary for him to be cautious and remain where he now was at Fort Edward. Crowds were flocking to the American standard. In particular, the story of the Jane McRea tragedy had a wonderful influence in raising up an indignant population to join against a cause that employed such base and cruel agencies to secure its success.
Gates now advanced up the Hudson to Stillwater, and resolved to fortify there; but the Polish officer Kosciusko advised him to retire upon Bern is Heights and fortify that place, which he finally did. Here the Hudson is very narrow, the valley is of trifling width, and the hill on the west is extremely abrupt and well calculated for a strong defence. A line of breast-works about three-fourths of a mile long were therefore stretched along the brow of the hill, with batteries at the extremities and the centre; these swept the entire valley. An intrenchment was likewise thrown up from the foot of the hill across the flats to the river; at this point was a floating bridge, made to swing around with the tide if necessary, which was protected by a battery. Half a mile above, another battery with breastworks was erected near a small stream called Mill Creek; and this was the extent of the Amercan fortifications.
Matters continued comparatively quiet until the middle of September. General Lincoln had been making demonstrations to Burgoyne's rear, which quickened the resolution of the British general very materially; he saw that he was liable to be cut off from his connection with the lakes if he remained long where he was, and he therefore made up his mind to move forward and open the contemplated communication with the South. He did not so much as call a council of officers, fearing they would advise to a retreat rather than an advance. On the 13th and 14th, he crossed the Hudson; on the 15th, he moved down to Dovegat; and on the 18th, he moved still further down to Wilbur's Basin, only two miles from the American camp. Here he made ready for the conflict of the next day.
It was a still and cloudless morning, that of the 19th of September, and the ground was white with the heavy autumn frost. Each army could hear the roll of the other's drums, calling to the reveille. They both lay extended over the hills, stretching westward from the Hudson, and were in fact face to face with each other. Gates resolved to run no hazard, but to act strictly on the defensive. Burgoyne was all ready to commence the attack. He had planned it that the Canadians and Indians in his camp should assail the American centre, while himself and Fraser were to make a wide circuit and unite their forces in the American rear. Their union was to be made known by the firing of three signal guns; on hearing which the artillery was to assail the American front and right, cut their way through, and scatter and destroy them as they went.
The interval between the two camps was irregular on its surface, and mostly hidden with forest trees; so that fighting was not the work it would be on an open plain. The bright uniforms and glittering bayonets of the British troops were seen through the forest vistas at an early hour in the morning, as they began to advance to their work. Gates was informed from time to time of their motions, but he made no movement in return himself. It got to be ten o'clock in the morning, and the whole British army was reported to be coming on, in three divisions; one on the river road to the east, one around the west, and the third against the centre. Still Gates was quiet and unmoved at his quarters in the farmhouse.
Arnold's spirit chafed beyond control. He had command of the left wing of the army, as before stated. It galled him beyond description to know that the enemy were coming up, but no orders issued as yet from the commanding general. He kept sending most urgent messages to Gates all through the morning hours, describing the movements and position of the enemy, and declaring that it was certain ruin to allow them to advance further, without opposition. Finally Gates gave way before his hot importunity, and the advice of Arnold was carried into effect. It was about half-past two in the afternoon. Morgan, at the head of his famous riflemen, made an impetuous assault upon the Canadians and Indians in the ravine, and charged with such resistless fury that his men were scattered in all directions in the woods, and he suddenly found himself almost entirely alone! He sounded his shrill whistle in a moment, however, and his gallant riflemen came flocking back to his support; whereupon he charged again, carrying all before him.
There was also a severe skirmish going on at the same time between the American pickets and detachments of the enemy on the margin of the flats near the river. Burgoyne and Fraser likewise moved rapidly forward to attack the Americans in front and on the left flank. Fraser tried to turn the latter, and Arnold saw the movement and made a vigorous assault on Fraser's right; Arnold found the position too strong, however, to be carried with what force he had, and sent a despatch to Gates asking for reinforcements; but the latter refused, declaring that he "could not suffer his camp to be exposed." He waited for nothing more; but dashed on and made a counter-movement to turn Fraser's left. This of course brought him face to face with the main line of the British army; and he fought at this crisis with a courage and headlong impetuosity that could not but be resistless. For a brief space of time, it seemed as if he would cut the wings of that proud army in twain.
The British dragoons under the German Baron Reidesel came up at this juncture, and so did a detachment of artillery under Phillips, dragging their heavy pieces along through the woods as fast as they could. Arnold, too, was reinforced with four fresh regiments. The British were already beginning to yield, so furious was the assault of Arnold's division; but they were just saved by the timely approach of the artillery and the heavy dragoons. Victory was thus snatched from the hands that were stretched out, ready to grasp it.
The conflict from that time continued without interruption. The whole of the British right wing was engaged. Hand to hand almost they fought, eager to vanquish the enemy they had so long waited to engage. For four long hours during that September afternoon, they kept it up; now one side advancing, and now the other. Morgan did terribly destructive service on the British with his sharp-shooters, having the wood to cover them. Burgoyne ordered his troops to clear the woods at the point of the bayonet, and they undertook the task. Each dash of the hostile wave, as it struck against the American position, was at once scattered harmless over the intervening plain. The Americans held their post with dogged resolution; from that it seemed impossible to drive them.
Our division rested on one hill-side, and the British on another opposite; the contest lay between. While the Americans fought from their own position, they fought successfully; but whenever they made a sally on the other hillside, they did so only to retreat at length to their old post again. The two armies were so near, that in the lulls of the battle the Americans could distinctly hear the word of command passed along down the enemy's lines. The fighting continued like the ebb and flow of a surging sea, with scarcely any rest or interruption. Not until the sun went down at night did the booming of the cannon and the crack of the musketry cease their echoes between these peaceful hills. The Americans retired within their lines, and the British lay on their arms on the field of battle.
Though this was not a rout for the enemy, it was a victory for the Americans; for the former were checked in their advance, and their entire plan of battle was broken up. They tried to assail the position of the main body of the Americans, but found it could not be done. If this was not defeat, it would be difficult to say what is. The loss of the Americans in this engage- ment was about three hundred; that of the British about five hundred. The maiming and wounding was terrible to contemplate.
Had Gates seconded Arnold cordially in this memorable battle, the enemy would have been totally vanquished; but it was believed that the former did not intend to oppose Burgoyne at all, until Arnold absolutely compelled him to it. Gates did all he could, through his adjutant, to cripple Arnold's forces, and the latter General found himself more than once issuing orders during the battle which his superior countermanded !
Few men but Arnold could have accomplished what he did under such circumstances. Gates also showed his jealousy of Arnold's reputation in another way, which was still more noticeable; he refused, in writing his despatches to Congress, to mention the name of Arnold at all in what he had to say of the battle, but merely stated that "the action was fought by detachments from the army."
Of course there could be no concert of action, when it was most needed, too, with such a state of feeling between the general officers. Arnold sought Gates, and told him plainly what he thought of his meanness in leaving him out of his despatches to Congress, and insisted that it not only did himself a wrong, but it was a greater wrong to the brave troops that had so successfully fought the battle. Gates had a high temper, as well as high self-esteem; they exchanged angry words, such as men never like to recall afterwards, and parted in the heat of their passion. Gates twitted Arnold with having resigned his office already, and said that he could claim no military standing whatever; he further assured him that he was of no sort of use in the army, and might go home whenever he wanted to; also that General Lincoln would take his command as soon as he arrived in camp.
Arnold demanded his pass to go and join Washington. It was at once granted him, and he prepared to leave the camp; but after his passion cooled down, he saw what an imputation might be cast on him if he deserted the army just before another battle was coming on, and he therefore resolved to remain a little longer where he was. But he need not have had any concern about his reputation; for Burgoyne himself, after his surrender, told at Albany, even in the presence of Gates, that Arnold was a wonderfully brave man and an active officer.
From the 20th of September till the 7th of October, the hostile armies were industriously engaged in strengthening their respective positions. General Lincoln joined the army on the 29th, and took command of the right wing, Gates himself assuming the command of the left; so that Arnold was deprived of all place and authority whatever.
Sir Henry Clinton was trying to force his way up the Hudson from below, and managed to get word to Burgoyne that he should attack Forts Clinton and Montgomery on the 20th. The latter, therefore, felt encouraged that by delaying a little he should finally be able to unite his forces with those advancing up the river. The two armies lay almost in parallel lines, and within cannon shot of each other. Day after day passed, and yet no tidings came to Burgoyne from Clinton. On the 1st of October, he was compelled to put his soldiers on short allowance; his own stores were diminishing rapidly, and nothing in the shape of provisions was allowed to reach him. The American ranks were filling up every day, the farmers flocking to the patriot standard from all the country round.
Burgoyne tried two or three times to send word to Clinton, telling him what a condition he was in; but he never received a syllable from Clinton in return. He knew himself that he could not hold out where he was longer than the 12th, and at length he came to his determination. One of two things he must do, and that without much more delay; he must either advance and fight, or retreat in disgrace. One alternative seemed just as dangerous as the other, for the Americans were now both on his front and his rear.
At a little after two o'clock, therefore, on the afternoon of the 7th, he opened the conflict; inasmuch as Gates declined to take the initiative, he resolved to wait no longer, but to take it himself. The British army was all arranged with consummate skill, so as to take advantage of every favorable turn of the approaching battle. General Fraser who was on that day the soul of the British army, was stationed in advance of their right wing, with a force of five hundred picked men, 1o fall upon the American flank the moment the attack was made on their front. Morgan saw the design, and suggested to Gates that another force should be sent around to fall upon the flank of Fraser, as soon as the assault was made on the British left. Gates thereupon sent Morgan himself, with his irresistible riflemen, to do the work; and he set off to occupy the heights on the enemy's extreme right. Wilkinson, his adjutant, brought in reports of the position of the British right, left, and centre, and Gates now thought the battle might as well begin in good earnest.
The American troops under Poor marched steadily up the hill to the British right, took their fire in silence, and then rushed on to the assault. Again and again they dashed up to the field pieces, captured and lost them alternately, and finally held and turned them with deadly effect against the ranks of the enemy. At the same moment with this attack, the sharp crack of rifles was suddenly heard on the British right, and Burgoyne was filled with astonishment.
Gates remained at his head-quarters, and did not go upon the field at all. Arnold, as we have stated already, had no command. But the moment the firing began, his impetuous nature refused control. It was a new thing for him to remain quiet, while the thunder of British guns was sounding in his ears. He tried to be calm, but it was in vain. All the old feelings of indignation at thinking of the way in which he had been treated, came up freshly in his heart. He chafed like a hound in the leash. Not a syllable reached him from Gates all this while, as if the latter neither knew nor cared that he was in the camp. It was for just this conflict that he had thought better of his former resolution, and concluded to stay where he was; and now to let it all come and go without lifting a hand for his country, was something to which he could not reconcile himself.
Springing upon the back of his large brown mare, he dashed off at a headlong pace, to join the force under General Poor on the left, and soon showed himself at the head of the line. The soldiers knew him as he rode up in such hot haste, and received him with shouts which the British could not understand. Gates saw him at the moment he dashed out of camp, and despatched his aid-de-camp, Major Armstrong, to bring him back; "he'll do some rash thing!" said he. Arnold caught sight of Armstrong, and knew his errand; he put spurs to his horse, therefore, and kept the latter on a wild and fruitless chase after him for more than half an hour.
Being the superior officer on the field, his directions were followed all through the battle. He rode with lightning speed up and down the lines, throwing himself into the very jaws of death, as if he was willing on that day to become a sacrifice. His horse was covered with foam, and seemed to partake of the fiery desperation of its rider. Again and again he led the troops on to the charge, attacking the Hessians in the centre with such fury that their solid lines wavered and finally gave way. He brandished his sword about his head like a glittering flame. His shouts and cries imparted to the troops a great share of his own madness. The frenzy that possessed him, many of the soldiers declared they had never before seen equalled by mortal man. So uncontrollable was his excitement, he struck an officer over the head during the battle, wounding him very severely; and when told of it afterwards, he declared that he was not aware of having done anything of the kind. It was said that he was intoxicated; but there is not the slightest ground for such a rumor to rest upon. The story originated with Wilkinson, and he certainly had reason enough to feel jealous of Benedict Arnold for that memorable day's work.
At the same time that Arnold was dashing his impetuous columns against the enemy's left and centre, Morgan and his riflemen were making great havoc on the extreme right. General Fraser was the leading spirit there, and kept the fiery American soldiery at bay. He was mounted on a splendid iron grey horse, and equipped in his showy uniform; and Morgan's sharp-shooters could not fail to be attracted to so conspicuous a mark. Morgan saw that on him alone depended the fortune of that part of the field, if not the fate of the day; and he ordered one of his best marksman, Timothy Murphy by name, to take his stand and pick him off. It may seem cold-blooded and even cruel, in the narration; but it nevertheless belongs to the bloody practices of war. Murphy climbed up into a tree, and from his high perch took a more deliberate aim. The first ball cut his horse's crupper; the second grazed his mane. His aid came up to him and said, "It is evident that you are singled out, General, by the enemy's marksmen; you had better change your ground." "My duty forbids me to fly from danger," was his reply. In five minutes he fell from his horse, a bullet having been shot through his body. He was carried off by a couple of grenadiers to the camp.
The moment the British saw their gallant leader fall, a panic spread all along the line. A large reinforcement of New York troops came up at this time, which encouraged the Americans wonderfully. Burgoyne saw the critical condition of affairs, and rushed forward to take the command in person. But it was too late. Even the presence of their commander could not revive the courage of the already panic-stricken and disheartened British troops. In vain he exerted himself to hold them to the terrible work; they gave way in solid column, and broke and fled within their intrenchments with all the eager haste of fear. A detachment under Phillips and the German baron, Reidesel, covered their confused retreat as well as they could, and barely saved them from utter annihilation.
Arnold, on finding the victory within the grasp of the Americans, determined to pursue every advantage. He put himself at the head of his troops and led them on to a vigorous assault upon the camp itself. There was thus a very fierce and bloody fight at the enemy's intrenchments, which Arnold tried to carry at the point of the bayonet; but they were defended too well to be taken by a force without artillery, and other-wise placed at a disadvantage. Like a flash, therefore, Arnold wheeled his foaming horse towards the right flank of the British camp, and, with but a handful of men behind him, undertook to force his way into a sally-port; the Hessians deserted it, leaving the British camp badly exposed. A shot at that moment killed the faithful horse of Arnold, and again wounded the leg that had before been shattered with a bullet at Quebec. He was carried off the field, but not until victory was assured to the Americans. That was decisive and complete.
Night now began to settle down upon the bloody work of that autumn afternoon. The British remained quiet within their camp, and the Americans lay on their arms upon the field, prepared to renew the battle at the earliest hour of the morning. The scenes that occurred on that day and the next, are affecting in the extreme. Wounded soldiers, dying officers, delicate ladies, just now bereaved of their husbands, there are pathetic stories in plenty about these, in the British camp, that make one lament with all the more sadness the terrors and cruelty of war.
Burgoyne took advantage of the night to change his position, retreating a mile to the north. The Americans in the morning occupied his abandoned camp. Burgoyne evidently meant to make the best of his way back to Fort Edward; but Gates had laid all his plans to head him off, and compel the surrender the latter so much dreaded; accordingly, he despatched a force over to the high grounds on the east side of the Hudson, and another still farther up towards Lake George.
Burgoyne began his retreat in the night, and continued it slowly through the whole of the next day. It rained continually, making the roads extremely difficult to travel. At evening he came to Saratoga. He could get no farther; it was still raining; and the soldiers had to lie down in their soaked clothes, the rain still falling upon them, and catch such sleep as they could. They were exhausted, and could hold out against nature no longer.
Again Burgoyne moved backwards, and began to fortify; but the Americans were swarming all around him. They cut him off alike at the fords and the bridges. He could get no word from Sir Henry Clinton below, and his own provisions would hold out but three days longer. He called a council of war in this emergency, to see what was best to be done. Negotiations were immediately opened with General Gates, and continued for several days. While Burgoyne and his officers were consulting what step it was best to take, an eighteen pound cannon-ball tore through the tent and drove across the table at which the council were sitting.
The papers being all prepared, and signatures exchanged, on the 17th of October the British surrendered to the Americans, on the plain in front of old Fort Hardy, a fort thrown up by Dieskau in 1755. Gates had, with a true sense of delicacy, ordered his army within their lines; so that when the enemy marched down on the plain, formed into parallel lines, grounded their arms, and emptied their cartridge boxes, not an American soldier was to be seen. The only officer who witnessed the transaction, was Wilkinson, the adjutant.
Burgoyne then wished to be introduced to General Gates. His staff accompanied him. Gates and his officers met him at the head of the American camp. Burgoyne was in full uniform, shining with scarlet and gold; Gates wore only a plain blue frock-coat. Wilkinson presented the gentlemen, each to the other, as soon as they reined up. "The fortune of war, General Gates, has made me your prisoner," said Burgoyne. "I shall always be ready to bear testimony, " answered Gates, " that it has not been through any fault of your excellency." After these ceremonies were over, all the gentlemen went to Gates's head-quarters, an old farm-house now standing, and sat down to a bountiful dinner.
Burgoyne was a large man, while Gates was much smaller, and wore spectacles. The former stepped backwards when he surrendered, and presented the hilt of his sword to Gates; who took it into his hand, and immediately returned it to his captive again.
The Americans gained a fine train of brass artillery by this event, together with about seven thousand stand of arms, much clothing, a quantity of tents, and military stores. The vanquished army afterwards passed between the columns of the Americans, who were drawn up for the purpose, and, with an American flag at their head, were marched off under a proper escort three hundred miles to Boston. There they took vessels and returned to England, having engaged to serve no more during the war.
Arnold was carried to Albany after the battle he had himself chiefly won, it being discovered that the bone of his leg was badly fractured; that leg seemed to be a very unfortunate one. Here he remained during the entire winter, shut up closely in his room. Though he had no command on the 7th of October, yet his was the controlling spirit of that memorable battle. He led the troops up to victory himself; while Gates, it is said, was in the house he made his head-quarters, discussing idle questions with Burgoyne's aid-de-camp, who had been wounded and taken prisoner. To Benedict Arnold, aided by the gallant Colonel Morgan, was mainly due the success of that most important day in Amercan history.