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♦•

i'-

THE OLD CATAMONT TAVERN, BENNINGTON',
Fr,>m IIiirpiT'8 Mnnazlno. Copyrlubt, Isll, by Harper 4 Bri.lluri

BALLADS AND POEMS

RHLATING TO TIIK

BURGOYNE CAMPAIGN

ANNOTATED HY

« WILLIAM L. STOXK.

AL-.THOR OF THE " LIFE AND TIMES OF SIR WILLIAM JOHNSON, DART •" " RUR-
r.OYNE's CAMPAIGN AND ST. LEGKR's EXPEDITION;" "MEMOIRS OF
GENERAL AND MADAME RIEDESEL ;" "HISTORY OF NEW YORK
city;" "life AND writings OF COLONEL WILLIAM L.
stone;" " REMINISCENCES OF SARATOGA AND BALLS-
TON ;" "TlUi STONE GENEALOGY;" "THE
STARIN GENEALOGY," E.G., ETC., ETC.

Land of Song !' " said the warrior bard,
"Though all the woild betray thee.
One sword at least thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee !"

Moore.

ALBANY, N. Y.

I"i:i- Mi'Nsi:i.i,s SON'S
1S93

io. 20.

(Beneral 3. Matte ^e ipe^etcr,

OF DUTCHESS CO., S. N. Y.,

WHOSE WRITINGS. BOTH ON REVOLUTIONARY AND EUROPEAN HIS
TORIES AND OUR LATE CIVIL WAR, ENTITLE HIM TO THE FIRST RANK
AS A MILITARY CRITIC, AND WHOSE PATRIOTISM AND EFFORTS IN
EVERYTHING WHICH TENDS TO THE ADVANCEMENT OF THE PUBLIC
WEAL DEMAND THE GRATITUDE OF EVERY TRUE CITIZEN OF THE
UNITED STATES, ^r int,

THIS WORK

IS DEDICATED BY HIS FRIEND

^c autljor.

■HP^H

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Ballads Relating Especially to General Burgoyne "^""i

Ballads on the Death of General Eraser m

Ballads on the Death of Jane McCrea 128

Poems on the Battle of Oriskany 208

Poems on the Battle of Bennington 215

Poems on the Battles of Bkmus Heights and Saratoga 234

APPENDICES.

CHAPTER

I. The Forces under Burgoyne and Gates "^275

II. Sketch of General Gates 279

III. Burgoyne's Proclamation 285

IV. Sketch of " Tim" Murphy, the Sharpshooter 290

V. Sketch of Lady Harriet Acland 303

VI. Sketch of Jones, the Lover of Jane McCrea 319

VIL Sketch of General J. Watts de Peyster 328

VIII. Sketch of "Parson" Allen, the Hero of Bennington.... 335
IX. History of the "Old Catamount Tavern" at Benning-
ton

337

X. Spelling of the Name of Bemus 3,2

XL Sketch of Dr. A. W. Holden

349

^"w^jiim^tttttv^tM.^^^

"'w^^^niPi

PREFACE.

In giving to the public, and especially to those who
have my " Burgoyne's Campaign and St. Leger's Ex-
pedition," a few words are, perhaps, necessary to
explain the purpose of the present work.

During my researches while engaged upon that par-
ticular episode of our Revolutionary history, I came
across a number of quaint ballads relating to that
campaign par excellence;''' and it occurred to me that
my subscribers to "Burgoyne's Campaign" would
gladly welcome an addenda, so to speak, of that work.

Hoping, therefore, that those of my friends who
have so kindly aided me in my former publications
will appreciate the spirit in which this volume has been
prepared, I have published it, though at a pecuniary
sacrifice to myself.

My thanks are due for help in this compilation to Gen-

* I use this phrase advisedly, since all historical
students know that Frank Moore has given us a little
volume on " Revolutionary Poems." This collection
however, though admirable, does not include, save in
a very few instances, those which particularly relate to
the campaign of Burgoyne.

TT^'^'^^mmm

■M

Preface.

eral John Meredith Read, Consul-General to France at
Paris during the Franco-German War, the siege of
that city and the Commune, and for many years
United States Minister to Greece ; Mr. James A.
Holden, of Glens Falls, N. Y. ; Mr. Charles M. Bliss,
of Bennington, Vt. ; Mrs. Charles Stone, of Sandy
Hill, N. Y. ; Mr. Franklin Burdge, of New York
City ; Mr. Jared C. Markham, the architect of the
Saratoga Monument,of Jersey City, N. J.; Mr. Theo-
dore F. Dvvight, of the Boston Public Library ; Mr.
William T. Peoples, of the New York Mercantile
Library ; Mr. George Watson Cole, of the Jersey City
Free Library ; Mr. Frederick Saunders, of the Astor
Library ; Dr. Smith Ely, of New burgh, N. Y. ; Mr.
John W. Jordan, of Philadelphia, Pa. ; Mr. Bauman
L. Belden, of Elizabeth, N. J. ; Hon. Charles S. Les-
ter and Hon. Winsor B. French, of Saratoga Springs,
N. Y., and Mr. August Hund, of Hoboken, N. J. — to
all of whom I here return my hearty thanks.*

* Mrs. Julia C. Dorr, of Rutland, Vt, the deservedly
celebrated poetess, contributed to the Bennington
Centennial an exquisitely beautiful poem entitled
" Vermont." As, however, it contains only one or two
incidental allusions to the battle of Bennington, and
does not, therefore, come within the scope of this work,
it is not given in this collection.

William L. Stone.
Mt. Vernon, N. Y., October i, 1893.

; I

THE BURGOYNE BALLADS.

SKETCH OF GENERAL BURGOYNE.

It seems eminently proper for a just appreciation of
the circumstances under which the following ballads
were written, that the reader should have a sketch of
the personage who called them forth.

John Burgoyne, a British soldier, was born on
February 24th, 1723. He was the eldest son of John
Burgoyne and Anna Maria, daughter of Charles
Burneston of Hackney, in Middlesex. The popular
belief that he was a natural son of Lord Bingley is
pure fiction, and had its rise in the malicious gossip of
that prince of gossips — Horace Walpole. Burgoyne
was educated at Westminster, and entered the army at
an early age. While at Preston with his regiment he
eloped with Lady Charlotte Stanley, daughter of the
eleventh Earl of Derby ; and the earl, becoming rec-
onciled to the marriage, obtained for him a captaincy
in the Eleventh Dragoons, June 14th, 1756. He was
in the attack on Cherbourg in 1758, and also in the
abortive attempt on St. Malo the same year; was ap-
pointed, May loth, 1758, captain-lieutenant in the
Coldstream Guards, and the following year was pro-
moted to the command of the Sixteenth Dragoons,
called subsequently " Burgoyne's Light-horse." He
was elected to Parliament in 1762, held his seat in that

mUm

The Burgoyne Ballads.

body continuously until his death, and took an active
part in matters relating to India, hence incurring the
displeasure of "Junius," by whom he was severely
criticised. He was made major-general, May 25th,
1772. Appointed to a command in America, he arrived
in Boston, May 25th, 1775, and witnessed the battle
of Bunker Hill, of which he gave a graphic descrip-
tion in a letter to his brother-in-law. Lord Stanley. He
was commissioned, January ist, 1776, lieutenant-gen-
eral in America only, and took part in the opera-
tions of that year for expelling the Americans from
Canada ; but in November, dissatisfied with his sub-
ordinate position under Carleton, he returned to Eng-
land. In December of that same year he concerted
with the British ministry a plan for the campaign of
1777. A large force under his command was to go to
Albany by way of Lakes Champlain and George, while
another body, under Sir Henry Clinton, advanced
up the Hudson. Simultaneously, Colonel Barry St.
Leger was to make a diversion, by way of Oswego, on
the Mohawk River.

In pursuance of this plan, Burgoyne, in June, began
his advance with one of the best-equipped armies that
had ever left the shores of England. Proceeding up
Lake Champlain, he easily forced the evacuation of
Crown Point, Ticonderoga and Fort Anne. But in-
stead of availing himself of the water-carriage of Lake
George, at the head of which there was a direct road
to Fort Edward, he advanced upon that work by land,
consuming three weeks in cutting a road through the
woods and building bridges over swamps. This gave
time for Schuyler to gather the yeomanry together, and
for Washington to re-enforce that general with troops,
under Morgan, from the Southern Department. Bur-
goyne, also, lost valuable time and received a fatal

MMik

The Bnrgoyne Ballads.

check by his disastrous attack on Bennington. At
length, finding his progress stopped by the entrench-
ments of Gates at Bemus Heights, nine miles south
of Saratoga (Schuylerville, N. Y.), he endeavored to
extricate himself from his perilous position by fighting.
Two battles were fought on nearly the same ground
on September igth and October 7th, 1777. The
first was indecisive: the second resulted in so com-
plete a rout for the British, that, leaving his sick and
wounded to the compassion of Gates, Burgoyne re-
treated to Saratoga. Here, finding that his provi-
sions were giving out. Stark in his rear, and that there
was no chance of escape, he capitulated with his en-
tire army, October 17th, 1777. This event was the
turning-point in the American Revolution. It se-
cured the French alliance, and lifted the clouds of moral
and financial gloom that had settled upon the leaders,
even the hopeful Washington.

Burgoyne, until his unfortunate campaign, stood
very high in his profession. He had made a most
brilliant record on the banks of the Tagus for dash
under that master in the art of war, the famous Count
Schaumberg-Lippe. He also added to a prepossessing
exterior the polished manners and keen sagacity of a
courtier. He was likewise witty and brave, but he
was also hasty and self-willed. Desirous of doing
everything himself, he rarely consulted with others ;
yet he never knew how to keep a plan secret. While
in a subordinate position he was continually carping
at his military superiors; yet when given a separate
command, he was guilty of the same faults that he
had reprehended in others. His boastful ways — as
will be seen in some of the following ballads — drew
upon him the nicknames of "Sir Jack Brag" and
"Chrononnotonthologos," a character in a burlesque

4c The Burgoyne Ballads.

play by Henry Carey. Being a sybarite, he often
neglected the duties of a general ; and while he was
enjoying his wines and choice food, his army suffered
the keenest want. Early in 1778 he returned to Eng-
land, and justly threw the failure of the expedition
upon the Ministry, since, in arranging the campaign,
he had most strenuously insisted that success depended
upon Howe's co-operation. Had he been properly
supported, he would, despite mistakes, have unques-
tionably reached Albany, as Gates would not have
been at Bemus Heights to oppose him. On his
arrival in England he was received very coldly by the
court and people, the king, indeed, refusing to see
him.* Having in vain demanded a court-martial, he
finally succeeded in obtaining a hearing on the floor
of Parliament; and in 1780 he published a narrative
of the campaign and a vindication of himself in a
work entitled "A State of the Expedition." Joining
the opposition, he resigned, in 1779, all his offices.
Upon a change in the ministry, he regained somewhat
of his popularity, and in 1782 was restored to his
rank in the army, and appointed prize-councillor and
commander-in-chief in Ireland. In 1784 he retired
from public life, and, possessing considerable literary
ability, amused himself in writing numerous comedies
and poems, which were published in two volumes in
1808. He had already, while in America, written two
farces, entitled respectively " The Siege of Boston" and
" The Maid of the Oaks," both of which were performed

with

great

klat. Two o^her dramas, both of which

* Indeed, had the kiug; granted him an audience, it
would have been tantamount to acknowledging that
he, George III., had erred — and when was a king,
especially this one, e 7er known to admit a mistake !

The Burgoyne Ballads. 5

were equall)' successful, were " The Lord of the Manor"
and " Richard Cceur de Lion." He was also the
author of a comedy entitled "The Heiress," which had a
great run, and has been pronounced by competent
critics "one of the best productions of the modern
British drama."

The tale of " The Lord of the Manor" seems, in some
degree, to have been disguised in the modification
of the character and circumstances by the incident
of his own matrimonial connection ; for, as above
stated, his was a clandestine and unauthorized mar-
riage, at a time when he held only a subaltern's com-
mission in the army, and is said to have excited at
first the resentment of the lady's father to such a
degree that he declared his resolution never to admit
the offenders into his presence. As we have seen, a
reconciliation was effected, and was succeeded by a
war'^ md lasting attachment. It is probable, also,
t\ ..le memory of his wife, who died in 1776, at
Kensington Palace, during his absence in America, is
embalmed by the affectionate regrets of Burgoyne in
that beautiful air of his composition :

"Encompassed in ^n angel's frame,
An angel's virtues lay ;
Too soon did heaven assert the claim,
And call its own away.

" My Anna's worth, my Anna's charms,
Must never more return !
What now shall fill these widow'd arms,
Ah me ! my Anna's urn !"*

* One would suppose from this affectionate effusion
that his devoted attachment to his wife — and of that
fact there seems to be no doubt — would have pre-

The Burgoyne Ballada.

Burgoyne, also, was one of the managers of the
trial for the impeachment of Lord Hastings, but he
did not live to see the result of that famous trial, his
death occurring in London, on August 4th, 1792,
caused by gout in the stomach. There were, how-
ever, not a few of his enemies who did not scruple to
say that he was a suicide, one American Loyalist,
who was in England at the time, and resided within a
few doors of his (Burgoyne's) dwelling, writing home
as follows : " He fell by his own hand, a prey to dis-
appointment and neglect." There seems, however, to
be no real foundation for this statement.

By his wife, Burgoyne had but one daughter, who
died in childhood ; but by Miss Susan Caulfield, after
his wife's death, he had four children, of whom the

vented the licentious conduct of Burgoyne during his
American campaign (see the account of his revelling
in the arms of his mistress during the suflferings of his
army, just before his surrender, as given by Mrs. Gen-
eral von Riedesel, " Letters of Madame von Riedesel,"
Munsell & Son, Albany, N. Y.) ; but these inconsis-
tencies are hard to account for. Indeed, public men
of that time seem to have thought that the breaking
of their marriage vows was but a venial offence. On
this subject see Alexander Hamilton's account of his
liaison With a woman, given unblushingly to the public
as a defence against the charge of his having, while
Secretary of the Treasury, been careless in money
affairs. This pamphlet, in which Hamilton gave this
statement to the public, is now extremely rare, the
only two copies of it in existence, as we are aware,
being one in the library of the New York Historical
Society, and the other in the possession of Mr. B. L.
Belden, of Elizabeth, N. J.

The JBurgoyne Ballads. ^

late Sir John Burgoyne, of Crimean fame, was the
eldest. His descendants have filled many honorable
positions in the British army and navy, and several of
them are still (1893) living-. For an exhaustive
sketch of Burgoyne and an analysis of his campaigns,
See " Hadden's Journal," edited by that indefatigable
and authoritative writer, General Horatio Rogers, of
Providence, R. I.*

BURGOYNE'S PROCLAMATION.f

[a burlesque ballad by Governor William Livingston, of New Jersey.
First published in the AVw Vori Journal, September 8th, 1777.]

By John Burgoyne and Burgoyne John, sir.
And grac'd with titles still more higher,

* As there are a number of allusions in the follow-
ing ballads to the forces of the two contending armies,
and as scarcely any writer, either contemporary
or otherwise, agrees in the number, it is thought
entirely germane to the present work to give in
Appendix No. I. a correct authorized statement both
of the beleaguering army, under Gates, and of those
who surrendered to it, under Burgoyne.

f As a prelude to his operations, Burgoyne issued
from Crown Point, on Lake Champlain, a pompous,
grandiloquent, and haughty-minded proclamation, in
which, after reciting a number of his own titles, eked
out with a string of e^ cetceras, to indicate the rest, he
made a magnificent parade of the number and strength
of his army, and displayed in formidable view the body
of savages by which he announced he was going
to accomplish great things ; at the same time com-
manding the Americans to lay down their arms

I7ie Burgoyne Ballads.

' i I-

For Vm lieutenant-general too,

Of Georgie's troops both red and blue,

and return to their duty, and promising them mercy
upon their speedy submission, but threatening them
with the most terrible vengeance if they persisted
in their rebellion. The effects of this proclama-
tion, however, were entirely different from what its
author surmised would be the case. Instead of the
terror which he thought it would excite, it produced
throughout the colonies only indignation and con-
tempt. Governor Livingston, of New Jersey (and
not Francis Hopkinson, as some have supposed), by
turning it ingeniously into Hudibrastic verse, made
the proclamation an object both of general derision and
of diversion. John Holt, of New York City, an old
and highly respectable editor, published it in his
newspaper, the Gazette, in Poughkeepsie, heading it
with " Pride Goeth before Destruction, and a Haughty
Spirit before a Fall." " It is," says Dr. Dwight, in his
"Travels," "remarkable that the four most haughty
proclamations issued by military commanders in mod-
ern times have prefaced their ruin — this of General
Burgoyne, that of the Duke of Brunswick, when he
was entering France, that of Bonaparte in Egypt,
and that of General Le Clerc, on his arrival at St.
Domingo." To this list might also be added that of
General Lee of the Confederate Army in our late Civil
War, just previous to his surrender.

Governor William Livingston, the author of this
poem and the Governor of New Jersey, was born in
Albany, N. Y., November 30th, 1723, and died in
Elizabethtown, N. J. (now Elizabeth), July 25th,
1790. He was graduated at Yale in 1 741, at the head
of his class, and then began the study of law under

The Burgoyne Ballads. ' 9

On 'this extensive continent,
And of Queen Charlotte's regiment
Of eight dragoons the colonel,
And governor eke of Castle Will,
And furthermore when I am there,
In house of commons there appear,
(Hoping ere long to be a peer)
Being a member of that virtuous band
Who always vote at North's command,
Directing too the fleets and troops
From Canada as thick as hops ;
And all my titles to display,
I'll end with thrice et cetera.

The troops consign'd to my command,
Like Hercules to purge the land.
Intend to act in combination
With th' other forces of the nation,

James Alexander, completing his course under
William Smith. He served with distinction in many
civic and State offices, and in 1787 was a delegate to
the convention that framed the United Slates Consti-
tution. He was also one of the original trustees of the
New York Society Library, and in 1751 was made
one of the trustees of King's (now Columbia) College,
but declined to qualify when he found that the Presi-
dent must be a clergyman of the Church of England.
He was the author of various works of distinction
in their day. As President Dvvight says, " His imag-
ination was brilliant, his wit sprightly and pungent, his
understanding powerful, his taste refined and his con-
ceptions bold and masterly. His views of political
subjects were expansive, clear and just. Of freedom,
both civil and religious, he was a distinguished cham-
pion."

»»

.. hiiiiiiiiimwn

HM]|*MMUUBMUtaiM44b

10 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Displaying wide tiiro' even' quarter

What Britain's justice would he after.

It is not difficult to show it,

And every mother's son must know it,

That what at first she meant to gain

By requisitions and chicane,

She's now determined to acquire

By kingly reason ; sword and fire.

I can appeal to all your senses,

Your judgments, feelings, tastes and fancies ;

Your ears and eyes have heard and seen,

How causeless this revolt has been ;

And what a dust your leaders kick up.

In this rebellious civil hickup.

And how upon this curs'd foundation,

Was rear'd the system of vexation.

Over a stubborn generation.

But now inspired with patriot love
I come th' oppression to remove ;
To free you from the heavy clog
Of every tyrant demagogue,
Who for the most romantic story.
Claps into limbo loyal Tory,
All hurly burly, hot and hasty.
Without a writ to hold him fast by ;
Nor suffers any living creature
(Led by the dictates of his nature),
To fight in green for Britain's cause,
Or aid us to restore her laws ;
In short the vilest generation
Which in vindictive indignation,
Almighty vengeance ever hurl'd
From this to the infernal world.
A Tory cannot move his tongue,
But whip, in prison he is flung,

The Burgoyne Ballads.

His goods and chattels made a prey
By those vile mushrooms of a day,
He's tortur'd too, and scratch'd and bit
And plung'd into a dreary pit ;
Where he must suffer sharper doom,
Than ere was hatched by church of Rome.

These things are done by rogues, who dare
Profess to breathe in freedom's air.
To petticoats alike and breeches
Their cruel domination stretches,
For the sole crime, or sole suspicion,
(What worse is done by th' inquisition ?)
Of still adhering to the crown.
Their tyrants striving to kick down,
Who by perverting law and reason.
Allegiance construe into treason.
Religion too is often made
A stalking horse to drive the trade.
And warring churches dare implore
Protection from th' Almighty Pow'r ;
They fast and pray, in Providence
Profess to place their confidence ;
And vainly think the Lord of all
Regards our squabbles on this ball ;
Which would appear as droll in Britain
As any whims that one could hit on ;
Men's consciences are set at naught
Nor reason valued at a groat ;
And they that will not svvear and fight
Must sell their all, and say good-night.

By such important views they're pres't to,
I issue this, my manifesto.
I, the great knight of de la Mancha,
Without Squire Carleton my sancho,

"'t*-'^"'**'**#W!(a:

'i«<iwmi<M

ami

The Burgoyne Ballads.

\.f

\ )

Will tear you limb from limb asunder,

With cannon, blunderbuss and thunder ;

And spoil your feathering and your tarring ;

And cagg you up for pickled herring

In front of troops as spruce as beaux,*

And ready to lay on their blows,

I'll spread destruction far and near :

And when I cannot kill I'll spare,

Inviting by these presents all,

Both young and old and great and small,

And rich and poor and Whig and Tory,

In cellar deep or lofty story ;

Where'er my troops at my command

Shall swarm like locusts o'er the land.

(And they shall march from the North Pole,

As far at least as Pensacole,)

To break off their communications.

That I can save their habitations ;

For finding that Sir William's plundersf

Prove in the event apparent blunders,

* " Spruce as beaux," in allusion to the fact that
during the entire march of the British troops under
Burgoyne, the officers seemed to look upon the expe-
dition as a kind of gala day, and, clothed in their best
regimentals in most dandified fashion, they escorted the
ladies of the party through the forest in the most
gallant style. This march through the wilderness is
graphically illustrated in one of the bronze tablets in
the Saratoga Monument at Schuylerville, N. Y.,
built by Booth Brothers, of New York City, and by
whom its corner-stone was presented to the Saratoga
Monument Association.

fSir William Howe is here alluded to. He was, as
is well known, depended on both by the British min-

mmtmmamfmmtrfV

The Burgoyne Ballads.

It is my full determination
To check all kinds of depredation ;
But when I've got you in my pow'r,
Favor'd is he I last devour.

From him who loves a quiet life,

And keeps at home to kiss his wife,

And drink success to King Pygmalion,

And calls all congresses rebscallion,

With neutral stomach eats his supper,

Nor deems the contest worth a copper,

I will not defalcate a groat,

Nor force his wife to cut his throat ;

But with his doxy he ma* stay,

And live to fight another day ;

Drink all the cider he has made

And have to boot a green cockade.

But as I like a good Sir Loin,

And mutton chop when e'er I dine,

And my poor troops have long kept Lent,

Not for religion but for want,

Who e'er secretes cow, bull, or ox.

Or shall presume to hide his flocks,

Or with felonious hand eloign

Pig, duck, or gosling from Burgoyne,

istry and by Burgoyne to effect a diversion in the latter's
favor by advancing up the Hudson, toward Albany,
thus directing the forces under Gates. Why he did
not do so is now plain — his special instructions to that
effect having been by accident pigeoned-holed, and
never having reached him. See Stone's " Burgoyne"
and Rogers's " Madden."

♦ »

¥^^

\v i

14 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Or dare to pull the bridges down,

My boys to puzzle or to drown ;

Or smuggle hay, or plough, or harrow.

Cart, horses, wagons, or wheelbarrow ;

Or 'thwart the path lay straw or switch,

As folks are wont to stop a witch,

I'll hang him as the Jews did Haman ;

And smoke his carcass for a gammon.

I'll pay in coin for what I eat,

Or continental counterfeit ;

But what's more likely still, I shall

(So fare my troops) not pay at all.

With the most Christian spirit fir'd,

And by true soldiership inspir'd,

I speak as men do in a passion

To give my speech the more impression.

If any should so harden'd be

As to expect immunity,

Because procul a fulminc,

I will let loose the dogs of Hell,

Ten thousand Indians, who shall yell.

And foam, and tear, and grin, and roar,

And drench their moccasins in gore ;

To these I'll give full scope and play

From Ticonderog to Florida ;

They'll scalp your heads, and kick your shins,

And rip your guts, and flay your skins,

And of your ears be nimble croppers.

And make your thumbs tobacco stoppers.

If after all these lovely warnings.

My wishes' and my bowels' yearnings,

You shall remain as deaf as adder,

Or grow with hostile rage the madder,

I swear by George and by St. Paul

I will exterminate you all.

The Burgoync Ballads.

Subscrib'd with my manual sign

To test these presents, John Burgoyne*

A VISION OF JUDGMENT.

By John TRUMBULL.f

I SAW along the prostrate strand
Our baffled gen'rals quit the land,

^Two burlesque proclamations, written in a similar
caustic vein as this one, were published by the wags
of the day while Gage was in command at Boston, in
1775, and Lord Rawdon was in command of the
South, in 1 78 1. The first was entitled ",Tom Gage's
Proclamation," and the second " Lord Rawdon's Proc-
lamation." As these do not come within the scope
of this work, they are not given. The curious reader,
however, will find them in Moore's "Diary of the
American Revolution," Vol. I., page 93. The procla-
mation of Burgoyne, however, will be found in Ap-
pendix No. III.

t John Trumbull, poet, born in Westbury (now
VVatertown), Conn., April 24th, 1750; died in De-
troit, Mich., May loth, 183 1. He graduated from Yale
in 1767, and with his friend. Timothy Dwight, wrote
papers in the style of the Spectator, which were pub-
lished in the Boston and New Haven journals in
1769. He wrote many works, the chief of which and
on which rests his principal reputation, was "McFin-
gal" (Hartford, 1782). Its popularity was great— so
much so that there were more than thirty pirated im-
pressions of the poem in pamphlet and other forms.
This poem was one of the keenest satires of the Rcvo-

WC-jfibiiiM*<^j|.v.^. *r.»-.^»j,. L

The Burgoyne Ballads.

II '

And swift as frighted mermaids flee*
T' our boasted element, the sea !
Resign that long contested shore,
Again the prize of rebel power,
And tow'rd their town of refuge fly,
Like convict Jews condemn'd to die.f
Then tow'rd the north I turned my eyes.
Where Saratoga's heights arise,
And saw our chosen vet'ran band
Descend like terror o'er the land ; %

lutionary period ; and despite of its doggerel rhymes
and Hudibrastic measure, it is a profoundly scholarly
production. The above lines are from the fourth canto
of this poem.

* Alluding to the hasty departure of the British
from Boston, when Howe perceived that he could no
longer keep it. Although Washington had tacitly
consented, on the application of Howe, to allow him
to depart unmolested, yet great terror pervaded the
ranks of the enemy and the households of the Tories.
They all went aboard the ships on Sunday morning,
March 1 7th ; and on the same day the deserted city
was taken possession of by General Putnam in the
name of the Thirteen United Colonies,

f This is an allusion to the cities among the Jews,
in which, if a murderer or other criminal could reach
before arrest, he was safe from punishment. The city
of refuge here alluded to was Halifax, in Nova Scotia,
to which the British army fled.

X This was, up to that time, the victorious army of
Burgoyne, which after capturing Ticonderoga and
Mount Independence gained a victory at Hubbard-
ton, and destroyed the American stores at Skenes-
borough (now Whitehall, N. Y.), at the head of Lake

'' :JI

The Burgoyne Ballads. 17

T' oppose this fury of alarms,

Saw all New England wake to arms,

And ev'ry Yankey full of mettle

Swarm forth like bees at sound of kettle *

Not Rome, when Tarquin raped Lucretia,f

Saw wilder must'ring of militia.

Thro' all the woods and plains of fight,

What mortal battles fill'd my sight,

While British corses strew'd the shore.

And Hudson ting'd his streams with gore!

What tongue can tell the dismal day.

Or paint the parti-color'd fray ;

Champlain. Then, flushed with these successes, Bur-
goyne marched slowly (being greatly impeded by the
action of General Schuyler in felling trees across his
path) through the wilderness toward Fort Edward —
his objective point on the Hudson River. The farm-
ers along this route fled in terror, dreading the sav-
ages who accompanied the invaders.

* When bees are swarming, loud beating upon so-
norous metal, such as tin pans, kettles, etc., causes them
to alight, or " settle," when they are without difficulty
placed in a newly prepared hive.

f The rape of Lucretia, by Sextus Tarquinius, is
given in the old legends as the proximate cause of
kingly power in Rome. The tragic result of the out-
rage caused Brutus to swear, by the pure blood which
incarnadined a dagger with which Lucretia had stab-
bed herself, that he would pursue to the uttermost
Tarquinius and all his race, and thenceforward suffer
no man to be king at Rome. The aroused people
gathered together, and passed a decree to the same
effect, and Tarquin the Superb was banished.

18 Tits Burgoyne Ballads.

When yeomen left their fields afar
To plough the crimson plains of war ;
When zeal to swords transformed their shares,
And turned their pruning-hooks to spears,
Changed tailor's geese to guns and ball,
And stretch'd to pikes the cobbler's awl ; *
While hunters fierce like mighty Nimrod,
Made on our troops a daring inroad ;
And levelling squint on barrel round,
Brought our beau-officers to ground ;f

* The Loyalists often taunted the Whigs because
some of their leaders were mechanics and tradesmen
(Greene was a blacksmith and Knox a bookseller).
In the temporary theatres established by the British
in Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Charlottes-
ville, Va., during the war, these taunts formed a staple
of the amusements. It was so even after the war.
Thus, on one occasion, a play was in course of per-
formance in a London theatre, in which American
officers were represented as mechanics of every kind.
In the midst of the hilarity which the play occasioned
on that account, an American sailor in the gallery
shouted, " Hurrah! England whipped by cobblers and
tailors !" Thus, the tables vyrere turned upon John
Bull.

f This has reference to the death of General Eraser
during the second battle of Saratoga, on October 7th,
1777. Dressed in full uniform, he made a conspicu-
ous mark. Colonel Daniel Morgan, the commander
of the Rifle Brigade, and who had been sent on by
Washington from the Southern department to aid
General Gates, perceiving that the fate of the day rest-
ed upon that officer (Fraser), took twelve of his sharp-
shooters aside, among whom was the celebrated marks-

The Burgoyne Ballads. 19

While rifle-frocks sent gen'rals cap'ring,
And redcoats shrunk from leather apron,
And epaulette and gorget run
From whinyard brown and rusty gun ;
While sunburnt wigs in high command
Rush furious on our frighted band,
And ancient beards and hoary hair
Like meteors stream in troubled air*
With locks unshorn not Samson more
Made useless all the show of war,
Nor fought with asses' jaw for rarity.
With more success or singularity.f
I saw our vet'ran thousands yield
And pile their muskets on the field.
And peasant guards in rueful plight
March off our captured bands from sight ;

man, " Tim" Murphy — men on whose precision of aim
he could rely — and said to them : " That gallant officer
yonder is General Fraser. I admire and respect him,
but it is necessary for our good that he should die.
Take your station and do your duty. Within a few
moments a rifle-ball cut the crupper of Fraser's horse,
and another, a moment after, passed through his horse's
mane. Calling his attention to this, Fraser's aide said :
" It is evident that you are marked out for particular
aim ; would it not be prudent for you to retire from
this place ?" Fraser replied : " My duty forbids me to
fly from danger." The next moment he fell mortally
wounded by a ball from the rifle of Murphy, and was
carried off the field by two grenadiers.

* " Loose his beard and troubled hair

Streamed like a meteor to the troubled air."

— Gray.

t Judges 15: 15.

III!

20 The Burgoyne Ballads.

While ev'ry rebel fife in play-
To yankey-doodle tun'd its lay,
And like the music of the spheres,
Mellifluous sooth'd their vanquish'd ears.*
"Alas!" said I, "what baleful star
Sheds fatal influence on the war,
And who that chosen chief of fame,
That heads this grand parade of shame ?"

There, see how fate, great Malcolm cried.
Strikes with its bolts the tow'rs of pride.
Behold that martial macaroni.f

* After Burgoyne had surrendered, the prisoners
started under guard across the country to Cambridge,
Mass. They began their march to the tune of " Yan-
kee Doodle," which they had so often heard in derision
in the British camp. Indeed, the pride of Burgoyne
was dreadfully humbled by the whole affair. He had
but a short time previous declared that he would eat
his Christmas dinner in Albany as a victor. He did,
indeed, dine there earlier than Christmas, but as a pris-
oner, although a guest at the table of his magnanimous
foe, General Schuyler, whom he had greatly injured
by having burned his house, mills, and other property
at Saratoga.

f This allusion to Burgoyne's foppery is a very happy
one, as the young men of fashion, who composed the
Macaroni Club, had very recently produced a great
sensation in England. They were young men who
had travelled in Italy, and had returned, bringing with
them all the vices and follies which they had picked
up abroad. Their club was formed in London in 1772,
and it was particularly distinguished for the extrava-
tT:?).nce of its members in dress. The members wore

The Burgoyne JBallada.

Compound of Phoebus and Bellona *
With warlike sword and singsong lay,
Equipp'd alike for feast or fray,
Where equal wit and valour join ;
This, this is he, the famed Burgoyne ;
Who pawn'd his honor and commission
To coax the patriots to submission,
By songs and balls secure obedience,
And dance the ladies to allegianccf

enormous knots of hair behind, an exceedingly small
cocked hat, an enormous walking-stick with long tas-
sels, jacket, waistcoat and breeches, cut very close.
Soon everything that was fashionable was a la maca-
rom. Macaroni articles everywhere abounded, and
macaroni songs were set to music. One song closed
with this stanza :

" Five pounds of hair they wear behind.
The ladies to delight, O !
Their senses give unto the mind.

To make themselves a fright, O !
The fashion who does e'er pursue,
I think a simple-toney ;

For he's a fool, say what you will.
Who is a macaroni !"

Indeed, the word " macaroni" took the place of " beau"
and " fribble," which had previously been given to men
of fashion, in the same way that " dude," at the present
day, has succeeded the word "dandy."

* Phoebus was another name for Apollo, or the sun.
Bellona was the accomplished Goddess of War.

t When setting out for America, Burgoyne playfully
remarked that he meant to dance the Whig ladies to
obedience, when their husbands would soon follow. In

mmmmm

Sd T/te Burgoyne Ballads.

Oft his camp muses he'll parade
At Boston in the grand blockade,
And well invoked with punch of arrack,
Hold converse sweet in tent or barrack.
Inspired in more heroic fashion.
Both by his theme and situation ;
While force and proclamation grand.
Rise fair beneath his plastic hand*

this, as in many other things, he, as well as the Brit-
ish officers, was grievously disappointed. Howe and
Clinton and some of their subordinates expected
to crush the rebellion in a week almost ; and it is said
that they actually brought fishing-tackle with them to
have some fine sport after the smoke of gunpowder
had cleared away.

* Burgoyne's proclamations, like those of Gage,
were, as before stated, very pompous, and caused
the wits of the day to publish in a burlesque vein
counter-proclamations, as the ballads in this volume
show. He was evidently very fond of making them,
for he always delighted in the use of his pen. While
in Boston, for instance, during the siege, he wrote a
farce called " Boston Blockaded/' in which the person
designed to represent Washington enters with un-
couth gait, wearing a large wig, a long, rusty sword,
and attended by a servant armed with a dilapidated
and rusty gun. Other American officers in this same
play were similarly burlesqued. While this farce was
in course of performance in the temporary theatre in
Boston, on the night of January 8th, 1776, a ser-
geant suddenly entered and exclaimed: "The Yan-
kees are attacking our works on Bunker Hill!"
The audience at first thought this was a part of the
performance, and laughed immoderately at the idea.

The Burgoyne Ballads. 23

For genius swells more strong and clear
When close confined, like bottled beer;
So Prior's wit gained greater pow'r,
By inspiration of theTow'r;*
And Raleigh fast in prison hurl'd
Wrote all the history of the world ;t
So Wilkes grew, while in gaol he lay.
More patriotic ev'ry day,
But found his zeal, when not confined,
Soon s'nk below the freezing point,
And public spirit once so fair,
Evaporate in open air.;};

but they were soon undeceived by the burly voice of
Howe shouting: "Officers, to your alarm posts!" The
people, it is needless to say, dispersed in the greatest
confusion. The fact was, that majors Knowlton,
Carey and Henley, three gallant American officers, had
crossed the mill-dam from Cobble Hill, and had set
fire to some houses in Charlestown, at the foot of Bun-
ker Hill, occupied by some British soldiers. They
burned eight houses, killed one man and carried off
five prisoners.

* Matthew Prior wrote his " Alma," the best of his
works, while in confinement in the Tower of London.

f Sir Walter Raleigh wrote his famous "History of
the World " while confined in the Tower of London on
a charge of treason. The first volume appeared in
1614.

;]: John Wilkes was a fearless political writer dur-
ing the early years of the reign of George HI., in
whose flesh he was a constant thorn, and was for a
long time editor of the North Britain. In the forty-
fifth number of that newspaper, published in 1763, he
uttered sentiments considered libellous, and was sent

S4 The Burgoyne Ballads.

But thou, great favorite of Venus *
By no such luck shalt cramp thy genius;

to the Tower. H is arrest was proved to he illegal, and he
was released. For several years subsequent, as editor,
as alderman in London and as a member of the House
of Commons, he was considered a very dangerous
enemy to the Crown. Wilkes was a licentious, un-
principled man; and because he wrote an indecent
" Essay on Woman " he was arraigned before the King's
Bench, and, upon conviction, was expelled from Par-
liament. He afterward obtained a verdict against
Wood, the under-secretary of State, with $5000 dam-
ages, and soon went to Paris. He afterward returned
to England, and was again elected to the House of
Commons, in 1768, but was deprived of his seat. He
became Lord Mayor of London in 1774, when he took
his seat in the House of Commons, becoming a
stanch friend of the Americans in their contest with
Great Britain. He was subsequently Chamberlain of
London. Wilkes flourished but in the midst of agita-
tion. When out of the troubled sea of politics, he
sunk into obscurity, and died in the Isle of Wight, in
1797, at the age of seventy years. Vox a detailed
account of the political career of Wilkes, the reader is
referred to "The Journals of Horace Walpole, during
the Reign of George HL"

* In allusion to the well-known licentious propen-
sities of Burgoyne. It was at this time a well-known
fact — since confirmed by the letters of Mrs. General von
Riedesel — that during the retreat of his army after the
disastrous defeat of October 7th, he thought much more
of enjoying the charms of his mistress than of how to
administer to the comfort of his forlorn troops. " Bur-
goyne, however," says Mrs. General von Riedesel, in her

The Burgoyne Ballads. 25

Thy friendly stars till wars shall cease,

Shall ward th' ill fortune of release,

And hold them fast in bonds not feeble,

In good condition still to scribble.

Such merit fate shall shield from firing.

Bomb, carcass, langridge and cold iron,

Nor trusts thy doubly laurel'd head

To rude assaults of flying lead.

Hence in this Saratogue retreat.

For pure good fortune thou'lt be beat ;

Nor taken oft, released or rescued.

Pass for small change, like simple Prescott ;*

Journal, "would not, though urged by his generals,
think of a farther 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 [of which he had taken possession] rang with
singing, laughter and the jingling of glasses. There
Burgoyne was sitting with some merry companions,
at a dainty supper, 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. Indeed,
some were of the opinion that he had merely made
that inexcusable stand for the sake of passing a merry
night." See Stone's " Burgoyne's Campaign," pp. 87, 88.
* General Prescott was twice taken prisoner during
the Revolution. The first time he was captUicd at
Montreal by Montgomery, near the close of 1775 ; and
the second time he was seized in his rooms, while in
command of the British forces in Rhode Island, in
July, 1777. He was taken to the headquarters of
the American army, and afterward exchanged for

UM>Vkt- t-*.^

The Burgoyne Ballads

But captured then, as fates befall,
Shalt stand thy hand for't, once for all.
Then raise thy daring thoughts sublime,
And dip thy conq'ring pen in rhyme,
And changing war for puns and jokes.
Write new blockades and maids of oaks*

that traitor, General Charles Lee, who had been cap-
tured in New Jersey in the December previous. The
circumstances of his last capture were these: Colonel
William Barton, with a few men in whale-boats,
crossed Narragansett Bay in the night, for the purpose
of seizing Prescott, who was a most despicable, petty
tyrant of, as Lossing well says, " the meanest stamp."
He was, like Lee — for whom, as has been said, he was
afterward exchanged — taken from his bed, conveyed
across to Warwick, and thence to Providence, and
afterward to headquarters. A full account of the
affair, with a portrait of Barton and a picture of the
house from which Prescott was taken, may be found
in Lossing's " Pictorial Field-Book of the Revolution."

* This is another allusion to Burgoyne's farce of " The
Siege of Boston." " The Maid of the Oaks" was another
farce from his fertile and versatile pen — for that he had
extraordinary literary ability no one can doubt — a play
which was much thought of, and was often performed
in the English theatres. He also wrote a comedy, as
mentioned in the introduction to the " Burgoyne
Ballads" (see ante), entitled " The Heiress," which had
a great reputation.

For many of the above notes I am indebted to my
old friend, the late Mr. Benson J. Lossing, who first
published them in an annotated edition of " McFingal."

The Burgoyne Ballads.

THE PROGRESS OF SIR JACK BRAG*

Said Burgoyne to his men, as they pass'd in review,

Tullaio, tuUalo, tullalo, boys !
These rebels their course very quickly will rue.
And fly as the leaves 'fore the autumn tempest flew,

When him who is your leader they know, boys!

They with men have now to deal.

And we soon will make them feel,
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys!
That a loyal Briton's arm and a loyal Briton's steel

Can put to flight a rebel as quick as other foe,
boys !

Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo —

Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys !

*" Burgoyne, more frequently than any other British
officer, was the butt of the Continental wits. His
verses were parodied, his amours celebrated in the
songs of the mess-table, and his boasts and the weaker
points in his nature caricatured in ballads and petite
comedies. We obtained a manuscript copy of the
song from which the above verses are quoted from an
octogenarian Vermonter, who, with feeble frame, shrill
voice and silvered locks of eighty-seven, would give the
echoing chorus with as much enthusiasm as when he
joined in it with his camp companions more than half
a century ago. The only clue to its authorship with
which we are acquainted is the signature, * G. of H.'
It was probably written soon after its hero's defeat at
Saratoga." — Rufus W. Grisivold, in the America7i
Supplement to Disraelis " Curiosities of Literatiire''

The Burgoyne Ballads.

As to Sa-ra-tog'* he came, thinking how to Jo the
game,
Tullalo, tuUalo, tullalo, boys !
He began to fear the grubs, in the branches of his fame,
He began to have the trembles lest a flash should be
the flame,
For which he had agreed his perfume to forego,

boys !
No lack of skill, but fates.
Shall make us yield to Gates,
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys !
The devil may have leagued, as you know, with the
States !
But we never will be beat by any mortal foe, boys !
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo —
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys !

* The present word " Saratoga," the world's famous
watering-place, has had many different spellings. Dr.
Steel says, in his work, that it is a corruption of the
Indian word Sah-rah-ka, meaning " the side hill," and
"was applied by the natives more particularly to that
part of the country which lies between Saratoga Lake
and the Hudson, where the application of the term is
amply justified by the appearance of the country."
This explanation, however plausible, I believe is not
correct. Saratoga is an Indian word of the Iroquois
language, derived from " Saragh-aga" or "oga," and, ac-
cording to Sir William Johnson, means " the place of
the herrings," from the fact that, in early colonial times,
before the mills were built at Troy, Schuylersville, etc.,
herrings used to run up in large shoals into Saratoga
Lake by way of Fish Creek and the Hudson. The
inflections "oga" and "aga" are local phrases, and sig-
nify "place" or "inhabitants of." In the same sense

The Burgoyne Ballads.

BURGOYNE'S DEFEAT.

(From an old pamphlet.)

Ye powers above, look down and pity our case,
For the once great Burgoyne is now in distress;
For I am surrounded with a numerous foe,
Which I fear my whole army will soon overthrow.

O curs'd be the men that did us deceive,*

And curs'd be old Schuyler, that made us believe

the mflection " aga" is used in the words On-ond-aga,
Sac-and-aga, Ti-con-der-aga, Ca-nand-aga, etc. See
Stone's " Life of Sir William Johnson ;" also Henry
Schoolcraft's letter to the author.

* Alluding to Philip Skene (after whom Skeneshor-
ough, now Whitehall, N. Y., was named), who continual-
ly advised Burgoyne to pursue Schuyler and to under-
take the expedition against Bennington, telling him
most positively that all he (Burgoyne) had to do was
to leave some plunder in his track, when all the Am-
ericans would be so engaged in gathering it up, that
he could easily overcome them. Skene, also, was
responsible for the fatal mistake Burgoyne made of
taking the route from Whitehall to Fort Edward by
way of Wood Creek, instead of at once proceeding by
way of Lake George by water-carriage — a course which
gave Schuyler ample opportunity of obstructing his
path by felling trees, etc., thus giving time foi the
yeomanry to rally and for Washington to send Mor-
gan to the help of Gates. This advice was given
to Burgoyne by Skene solely to enable him, at the
army's expense, to have a good road cut for him from
Skenesborough (Whitehall, N. Y.) to the lower set-

.-J!*** ' ^i

The Burgoyne Ballads.

1 ^

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That he would retreat before us and make no alarm
'Till we'd landed in Albany free from all harm.

O, I am surrounded with sorrow and grief,
Ye Goddess Diana, O ! send some relief,
Or send me some comfort my mind for to feed,
Or send me a cordial, for I ne'er had mc ed.

And now fellow-soldiers, what to advise . do.
Go forward we cannot — nor back we can't go.
And if we stay here we surely must die ;
My heart is overwhelmed, O ! where shall I fly ?

What say you, my lads, must we yield unto men
That we've so long held in so great disdain,
And called them rebels and despised Yankees too.
And looked upon them as a cowardly crew ?

O, safety says yes, but honor says no —
Our case is deplorable, what shall we do ?
Our honor is sweet, but our lives are more dear.
My eyes do break forth in a fountain of tears.

O curs'd be the day that I e'er came here.
And crossed the Atlantic to buy wit so dear;
And curs'd be the villains that did so much hurt
By carrying to England so false a report.

For it is commonly reported in fair England

That the sight of one Briton will make ten Yankees

run —
The report of a cannon will make Yankees fly,*
E'en were they as numerous as stars in the sky.

tlements. See Ramsey's " American Revolution," than
which there is no better authority.
* Burgoyne is said to have stated to his king that

The Burgoyne Ballads. gj

But alas ! by experience I find it is false ;
For of the two, Yankees are better than us ;
They will fight with great valor in the operi field-
Take them in the forest, then Britons must yield.

They'll shut up one eye and squint on their gun,
We're certainly dead boys as soon as that's done ;
We can stand no more chance among Yankee boys
Than to throw an old cat into Bedlam without claws.

Then what shall we do ? Diana don't hear,
To our supplications she turns a deaf ear ;
We'll complain to our gods of our sorrow' and woe,
Our good old friend Jupiter will hear us, I know.

We'll complain to Mars, and Saturn also,
And likewise mild Venus shall hear of our woe ;
And if they'll not regard us, will make our complaint
To the lady Mary and the good old saint.

You gentlemen all think on't as you will,

The Britons have used the Americans il! ;

And for that same reason we are brought into stall,

We never shall prosper in this war at all.

For our gods will not hear us, though we cry and

weep.
They have gone a long journey or fallen asleep ;
They are regardless of our requests.
As the British Court is of the American Congress.

Thus I think it in vain on our gods for to call.
For they are not able to help us at all ;
We'll go to brave Gates— that's complete,
He'll give us an answer in hopes that is sweet.

"with one regiment he could march triumphantly
through all the American colonies."

il ;i

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

He'll grant us the privilege for to march out
In the honor of war though in the worst route ;
And if he'll do so we'll bless his name,
And let him be crowned with honor and fame.

We are all 'greed to do as you have said,
We'll go very humble with hopes on our head,
Acknowledge before him we all deserve death,
If he saves us we'll praise him whilst we have breath.

We sent to his honor, our request he did grant ;
His bountiful hands did supply all our wants ;
He opened his stores, our wants did supply.
Let brave Gates' enemy before him all fly.

Ye Heavens, send down your blessings amain
On the head of brave Gates, let his foes be slain.
Or otherwise bow to that brave general,
Let Britons and foreigners before him all fall.

For his honour is great and his valour unknown.
He scorns in his heart the thoughts of a clown ;
He's gallant and brave and generous too.
Right worthy gen'ral, I bid you adieu.

THE FATE OF JOHN BURGOYNE.

When Jack, the king's commander,

Was going to his duty.
Through all the crowd he smiled and bow'd

To every blooming beauty.

The city rung with feats he'd done

In Portugal and Flanders,
And all the town thought he'd be crown'd

The first of Alexanders.*

* See sketch of General Burgoyne, ante.

The Bnrgoyne Ballads.

To Hampton Court he first repairs
To kiss great George's hand, sirs ;
1 hen to harangue on state affairs

Before he left the land, sirs.
The Lower House sat mute as mouse

1 o hear his grand oration ;
And all the peers, with loudest cheers

l^roclaimed him to the nation.
Then off he went to Canada,

Next to Ticonderoga,
And quitting those away he goes

btraightway to Saratoga.
With great parade his march he made

1 o gain his wished for station,
While far and wide his minions hied

lo spread his Proclamation.
To such as staid he offers made

Ol ''pardon on submission •
But savage bands should wasie the lands
Ul all in opposition."

But ah, the cruel fates of war '

This boasted son of Britain,
When mounting his triumphal car

With sudden fear was smitten.

The sons of Freedom gathered round,

His hostile bands confounded
And when they'd f.ln have turn;d their back

They found themselves surrounded !
In vain they fought, in vain they fled

1 heir chief, humane and tender '
1 o save the rest soon thought it best

His forces to surrender.

tarn

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34 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Brave St. Clair * when he first retired
Knew what the fates portended ;

* The troops with which General St. Clair had gar-
risoned Ticonderoga, in view of a possible attack by
Burgoyne, were ill equipped, badly armed, and amount-
ed, including '.^" .'^ hundred militia, to about three
thousand n.cn. As General Philips, with the right
wing of Burgoyne's army, approached Ticonderoga, the
Americans abandoned their outworks, and the British,
without hindrance, immediately took possession of and
fortified Mount Defiance, a mountain completely over-
looking TiconcK i -^gf., and the possibility of which
event had been su

,' \

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by Governor Trumbull, but
which hint, on acc.uun'c o< Ipck of men, was not acted
upon. Ur-lcr th'se circu. :nces St. Clair had no
alternative bat to ^v'ac iit'^ \. fort during the night
and retreat into Vermont, sct^di' i 'S stores and sick
on bateaux up Lake Champlain to Skenesborough.

No event during the Revolutionary War, as it has
been justly said, produced such consternation through-
out the colonies as the evacuation of Ticonderoga
— a fortress which, even by Washington himself, had
been regarded as a tower of strength, and one, too,
before which, as a matter of course, Burgoyne would
be stopped on his march southward to Albany. In-
deed, nothing could have been more unexpected
than this event. " It was," says Dr. Dwight, who lived
as a contemporary with the actors in these scenes,
" the bursting of a meteor, which, by its awful peal,
shook every habitation from Maine to Georgia." That
there was a fault somewhere admits of no doubt.
But whatever was the cause — whether the officers
and their subordinates overrated the strength of the
enemy, or what — the excessive disappointment of the

The Burgoyne Ballads.

And Arnold and heroic Gates*
His conduct have defended.

'^ w'.T? ^'^^'••ca's brave sons
With honor be rewarded.

Arid the fate of all her foes
I he same as here recorded.

^vard tried by a court-, JrtiaT?or U L of, nf Th' " f""
but was acquitted of all blame T?f ' ^'"'^'

however, of this terrible misfZ'.nJh ~"^'-:i"«":e,
mitigation by his acquittal '"" '^""''"'^ »"

man in his feelino-. Ih c fV"'"^' ^e was a noble

successful, as Herdle';''ha'nu''stS 'raid"'f"" ""' """
patriotism or willino-nfit^ o, ^ , '■ '^'°'" *'a"' of
ington knew th s ^^hT '""■'''''® h.mself." VVash-

dence. He had him bv his'^-r^r^^''""''-^*^' ""'^ ^°»fi-

Lolding no commis'sTo fa'n d ston^^^t'"'"'; "'°"?^
pronounced his acouiff»l w ■ '"e court-mart a

highest respon iSes Thist' • "'" '"''" ^*''"' '^e
his praise ; and fina Iv in , ^M f ^'¥ \8'''=" ^eal in
Territory was erec e^i into f'^'" ""= Northwestern

doubtless with the concurrencfTvTT' ^'^ C''''^'
appointed governor of fh,,^- ^^"shmgton, was
held until tlo/ "" '"""'•^' ^'^ich office he

No. n: " =''°« ^'^^'^'' of General Gates, see Appendix

_ t

86 The Burgoyne Ballads.

THE CAPTURE AT SARATOGA*

Here followeth the direful fate

Of Burgoyne and his army great,

Who so proudly did display

The terrors of despotic sway.

His power and pride and many threats

Have been brought low by fort'nate Gates,

To bend to the United States.

British prisoners by convention,

Foreigners by contravention, - _ _

Tories sent across the lake, - - -

Burgoyne and his suite in state, . . -

Sick and wounded, bruised and pounded, ]

Ne'er so much before confounded, j

Prisoners of war before convention.

Deserters come with kind intention,

They lost at Bennington's great battle.

Where Stark's glorious arms did rattle.

Killed in September and October,

Ta'en by brave Brown,f some drunk, some sober.

Slain by high-famed Herkerman,;|:

On both flanks, on rear and van,

Indians, settlers, butchers, drovers,, "^

Enough to crowd large plains all over

And those whom grim Death did prevent

From fighting against our continent ;

And also those who stole away.

Lest they down their arms should lay,

* From a contemporary magazine, though copied
extensively in the newspapers of the day.

t Colonel John Brown, of Massachusetts. See note
under " The North Campaign."

X General Herkimer, of New York.

2442

2198

1 100

528

400
300

1220

600
413
300

4413

14000

The Buvgoyne Ballads.

Abhorring that obnoxious day

The whole make fourteen thousand men, )
Who may not with us fight again, |

This is a pretty just account
Of Burgoyne's legions' whole amount
Who came across the northern lakes '
1 o desolate our happy States
Their brass cannon we have got all
Fifty-six-both great and small ; '
And ten thousand stand of arms
lo prevent all future harms • '

Stores and implements complete.

Of workmanship exceeding neat •

Covered wagons in great plenty. '

And proper harness, no ways scanty

Among our prisoners there are

Six generals of fame most rare •

Six members of their parliament

Reluctantly they seem content :

Three British lords, and Lord Balcarras'^
Who^me our country free to harass.

* Balcarras. Alexander Lind^^TT^rP^^rrTT
soldier, born in i7C2- died m t '^ 1.^ ' ^^^^^'^^
tQ^,- it '752, aiea in London. March oTtU

■MM

38 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Two baronets of high extraction
Were sorely wounded in the action.

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BURGOYNE'S ADVANCE AND FALL.

(An extract from America Independent,)

BY PHILIP FRENEAU.

Led on by lust of lucre and renown,

Burgoyne came marching with his thousands down ;

manded the advanced corps of the army at Free-
man's Farm ; and in the action of October 7th, 1777,
on the death of General Eraser, October 8th, 1777, he
was made lieutenant-colonel of the Twenty-fourth
foot. He became major-general in 1793, commander
in Jamaica ; lieutenant-governor of that island in 1 794 ;
lieutenant-general in 1798, and general in 1803. His
bravery and prominence in both of the battles of Sar-
atoga have always received particular mention.

* Philip Freneau, poet, born in New York City,
January 2d, 1 752 ; died near Freehold, N. J., December
1 8th, 1832. Some of his published poems were written
before he left college (Princeton). On a voyage to
the West Indies, in 1780, he was captured by an
English cruiser, and his experiences as a prisoner are
recorded in bitter terms in his " British Prison-Ship."
On regaining his liberty, the following year, he wrote
frequently, both in prose and verse, for the Free^naus
Joiirnal. After the close of the war he became
editor of the New York Daily Advertiser. The
violence of this paper's attacks on the Federalists
aroused Hamilton's anger, who accused him of being

The JBurgoyne Ballads. 89

High were his thoughts, and furious his career,
Puft'd with self-confidence, and pride severe,
Swoln with the idea of his future deeds,
On to ruin each advantage leads.
Before his hosts his heaviest curses flew.
And conquer'd worlds rose hourly to his view :
His wrath, like Jove's, could bear with no control.
His words bespoke the mischief in his soul ;
To fight was not this miscreant's only trade,
He shin'd in writing, and his wit display'd.
To awe the more with titles of command
He told o{ forts he ruVd in Scottish land ;
Queen's colonel 2ls he was he did not know
That thorns and thistles, mix'd with honors, grow ;
In Britain's senate though he held a place.
All did not save him from one long disgrace.
One stroke of fortune that convinc'd them all
That we could conquer, and lieutenants fall.
Foe to the rights of man, proud plunderer, say
Had conquest crown'd thee on that mighty day
When you to Gates, with sorrow, rage and shame
Resign'd your conquests, honors, arms, and fame,
When at his feet Britannia's wreaths you threw,
And the sun sicken'd at a sight so new ;
Had you been victor — what a waste of woe !
What souls had vanish'd to where souls do go !

the "tool of Jefferson," which forced the latter to write
an explanatory letter to Washington. He afterward
was connected with several newspapers. He is the
author of many works, both of prose and verse. A
volume of his poems, published in Philadelphia in
1 786, abounds in patriotic sentiments and allusions
to the various events of the war. Indeed, he has been
not unaptly styled " the poet of the Revolution."

The Burgoyne Ballads.

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' !

What dire distress had mark'd your fatal way,

What deaths on deaths disgrace that dismal day !

Can laurels flourish in a soil of blood,

Or on those laurels can fair honors bud ?

Curs'd be that wretch who murder makes his trade,

Curs'd be all arms that e'er ambition made!

What murdering tory now relieves your grief

Oi plans new conquests for his favorite chief;

Designs still dark employ that ruffian race,

Beasts of your choosing, and our own disgrace.

So vile a crew the world ne'er saw before.

And grant, ye pitying heavens, it may no more.

If ghosts from hell infest our poison'd air.

Those ghosts have enter'd these base bodies here.

Murder and blood is still their dear delight —

Scream round their roots, ye ravens of the night !

Whene'er they wed, may demons, and despair,

And grief, and woe, and blackest night be there ;

Fiends leagu'd from hell, the nuptial lamp display.

Swift to perdition light them on their way.

Round the wide world their devilish squadrons chase,

To find no realm that grants one resting place.

Far to the north, on Scotland's utmost end,

An isle there lies, the haunt of every fiend,

There screeching owls, and screaming vultures rest,

And not a tree adorns its barren breast !

No shepherds there attend their bleating flocks,

But wither'd witches rove among the rocks :

Shrouded in ice, the blasted mountains show

Their cloven heads, to fright the seas below ;

The lamp of heaven in his diurnal race

Here scarcely deigns to unveil his radiant face;

Or if one day he circling treads the sky

He views this island with an angry eye;

Or ambient fogs their broad, moist wings expand,

Damp his bright ray, and cloud the infernal land ;

The Burgoyne Ballads. 41

The blackeninp^ wind incessant storms prolong,
Dull as tiieir night, and dreary as my song ;
When stormy winds with rain refuse to blow,
Then from the dark sky drives the unpitying snow ;
When drifting snow from iron clouds forbear,
Then down the hailstones rattle through the air.
No peace, no rest, the elements bestow,
But seas forever rage, and storms forever blow.
Here, miscreants, here with loyal hearts retire.
Here pitch your tents, and kindle here your fire ;
Here desert Nature will her stings display,
And fiercest hunger on your vitals prey.
And with themselves let jfohn Bu}\i^oyne retire
To reign the monarch, whom your hearts admire.

ST. CLAIR'S RETREAT, A:,D BURGOYNE'S

DEFEAT.

By Rev. Wheeler Case

St. Clair is stationed i our Northern fort,

T' oppose Burgoyne, sent from the British coast.

* Rev. Wheeler Case was born at Southold, Long
Island, in 1732. He died in 1788, at Pleasant Valley,
Dutchess County, N. Y., where his tombstone is yet
( 1 893) still to be seen. The poems were first published
anonymously in i77S,and have since been reproduced
by Dodd in 1852. Rev. Mr. Case was the pastor for
many years of the Presbyterian Church of Pleasant
Valley, N. Y. In his preface to his pamphlet he states
that the poems were first composed for his own amuse-
ment, without any idea of printing them ; but after-
ward, thinking they might contribute a little toward

The Burgoyne Ballads.

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The fortress all complete in every part,

Well fortified by nature and by art ;

How firm the walls! the lines completely mann'd,

Huge cannon planted round, all parts well scann'd.

The gen'ral now his soldiers all address'd,

And like a hero thus himself express'd:

"Let martial courage in your bosoms glow.

Nor fear to face a proud inv^ading foe;

You know our cause is just; we need not fear,

The C^rtf of armies will for us appear.

Fair Liberty commands; here make the stand,

I/cre we will die, or save our injur'd land.

You all detest the shameful name of s/ave ;

Then play the man, and rank among the brave.

My orders you will all as one obey,

Our foes, all panic-struck, will sneak away.

Then we

But who — what troops are these just here in sight.
All clad in arms complete, prepar'd to fight .^

1,/

promoting the noble cause of liberty, he consented to
their publication. "If the friends of liberty," he adds
in his preface, "should be of the same mind with him,
he hopes they will be good enough to excuse practical
errors, as he had never made the art of poetry his
study. As for others, he is not concerned about them,
being persuaded the time is drawing nigh when they
will be fully convinced that liberty is better than
slavery, and independence is much better than being
dependent upon a prince who chooses that they should
live no longer than during his pleasure, or submit to
abject slavery." I am indebted for the above facts to
his great-grandson, Walter C. Anthony, of New-
burgh, N. Y.

TJie Burgoyne Ballads. #8

They are Great Britain's troops — a rising storm —
They all appear of a gigantic form !
These sons of Anak spread all o'er the land,
Before this mighty host we cannot stand.
Should we foolhardy with them now engage,
We fall at once sure victims to their rage ;
With sword unsheath'd they're all advancing nigh.
Let ev'ry man prepare himself to fly.
I now command you all with speed to run,
Leave all your baggage, and not fire a gun."
The soldiers with reluctance now obey.
They all retreat, and St. Clair leads the way.
Whether with panic struck he to^W the flight.
Or to ensnare Burgoyne in dismal plight,
The muse must leave till she has further light.
Perhaps by impulse he foreknew the fates,
And fled to save the whole United States.
W^hether fear or impulse govern'd in his breast.
Kind Providence o'erruled it for the best."*
BurgoynCy elated, now pursues the chase.
And threatens vengeance to the rebel race ;

* Here the author, writing at the time that the
evacuation of Ticonderoga was fresh in the public
mind, and with every patriot smarting under what was
then considered a needless surrender of that fort, does
St. Clair great injustice. St. Clair could not have
done otherwise, and if Colonel Trumbull's advice had
been followed in regard to fortifying Sugar-Loaf Hill
(see Stone's " Burgoyne's Campaign"), the fort need
not have been given up. St. Clair, however, did as a true
patriot what was the best, and thus saved his army.which
eventually captured all of Burgoyne's army. The sub-
sequent court-martial of St. Clair, undertaken at the
demand of public opinion, fully vindicated his conduct.

5 ,

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

He boasts aloud, his threat'nings round he hurl'd,
As tho' assur'd of conquering all the world.
With hellish pride he triumphs o'er the north,
Enumerates his titles and his worth,
And sends his thund'ring proclamation forth*
Persuasive arguments at first he us'd,
Then blood and slaughter, if they him refus'd.
He dipp'd his pen in oil to soothe and please.
Then his address began in words like these :
" Why will you thus desert my master's cause,
And trample underfoot his righteous laws ?
Cease to rebel, repent, return and live,
I've sealed pardons in my hand to give.
Remain upon your farms, there safely stay.
With all your horses, cattle, and your hay ;
Nor hide your oats, your barley, or your wheat,
Then you from me shall safe protection meet ;
You need not fear, no one shall you annoy.
Come and submit, I'll find you full employ ;
I'll bore your ear unto my master's door,
'Tis all he has in view, he wants no more.
Submit your necks to his most easy yoke,
So that you may avert the dreadful stroke.
As mediator, I do you entreat
With all submission fall at Georges feet.
My royal master's pleasure and your good
Is my design, could it be understood.
Oh ! for the eloquence of a Demosthenes,
Could I your mind impress, or could I please,

* The writer here refers to the bombastic proclama-
tion of Burgoyne, sent out from his camp at the river
Bouquet, June 23d, 1777. To show the burlesque more
understandingly, the proclamation, as previously stated,
is given under Appendix No. III.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Could I but melt your stubborn temper down

To due submission to the British crown.

When i have done my work I am content

With what I'm to receive from Government.

But if my royal master you despise,

And 'gainst the clearest light you shut your eyes,

If you are still determined to rebel

And counteract his laws, all plann'd so well,

Then I'm in duty bound to let you know

What I have full authority to do :

I come commissioned from great Georges throne,

To vindicate his honor and my own.

A great and potent army I command.

With floods of rebel blood to drench the land ;

Thousands oi Indians I've supplied with knives

To scalp your dearest children and your wives.

If I but nod the savage army flies,

And naught is heard but shrieks and female cries.

Believe my word, this sure will be your fate,*

You soon must feel the vengeance of the State.

Let not your Hezekiahs you deceive.

None of your pulpit orators believe.

In whom do you confide ? Come tell,

That ye against my master dare rebel. :

Is it on Gallic bands.f or is it Spain ?

They'll disappoint your trust, your hope is vain.

*This. again, is an unjust imputation against
Burgoyne, who, notwithstanding the threats in his
proclamation, did all he could to restrain Indian
atrocities. Indeed, it was to this fact, that before the
battles of Saratoga nearly all his savage allies deserted
him.

f Referring to rumors, even then prevalent, that

The Burgoyne Ballads.

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Were they with you combined, they'd with you fall,

Just like a tottering fence or bowing wall.

What Britam did last war you know full well,

Her banners wav'd, united powers fell.

What armies ever could her force withstand ?

Hath she not conquered both the sea and land ?

What madness then to oppose a power so great,

While weak and feeble in your infant state !"

Reply : Britain, 'tis true, her conquests far hath spread,

Nations to her have bow'd and tribute paid,

Her vict'ries she hath spread o'er sea and land,

Before her potent armies none could stand.

Horror and darkness now are spread around,

Our woes increase, and no deliverer's found.

Great desolation in the north is made,

Our strongest fort resigned, St. Clair is fled ;

The poor distressed inhabitants now fly.

And on the Providence of GOD rely.

The baser sort are flocking to Burgoyne,

Others now tremble, lest they must resign.

Why these despairing tho'ts } W^hy all this fear .?

Who knows but GOD will soon for us appear?

The night's the darkest, best observers say,

E'en just before the dawning of the day ;

Who knows but these our groans and female cries,

Which sound thro' all the woods, may reach the skies .'^

Our cause is just, we dare appeal to heaven ;

We fight for what our gracious GOD has given.

You threaten vengeance with your dreadful rod.

As if you fill'd the seat and throne of GOD.

But hark ! the sov'reign speaks, Vengeance is mine,

And now I will repay it on Burgoyne.

France would soon take part with the colonies in their
struggle with the Mother country.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

lhnu'?T'' '"''''"'' ^^'^^ '^^^^ denounced of late
^nall lall upon your own devoted pate

^^^rgoyne is rushing on in quest of blood

And Jndians shout for victory thro' the wood

He solemnly declares, unless we yield

Horror and death await us in the field

He sends his bloody flag from house to house •

The mountains travail, and bring forth a mouse

BehoM'^"' ^'^ '^''''''''' ^"^" ^° ^hese Stages.
Behold ! here comes the brave heroic GATES

1 he gloom dispell'd, the light doth now appear
And shmes thro' all the Northern Hemisphere •
Our troops collect and marshal in array
Complete in arms, their banners they displav
Burgoy^:, now views them all in arms complete
S ruck with a panic, orders a retreat. ^ '

1 he soldiers trembling, his commands obey,
And he, the most intrepid, leads the way.
Our brave commander then pursues with speed
Soon overtakes, and numbers lie and bleed • '
Our va, ant troops enclose Burgoyne around.
And take the best advantage of the ground.
Ihe Br^/is/i hero that appear'd so piompt
Is now enclosd byVaH/cces in a swamp.
1 he great Burgoj'ne is now overwhelm'd with grief
Nor has he any hope to obtain relief. '' '

1 he rebel army he with scorn defied
Have him encompass'd round on ev'ry side.
Alas ! how great his grief, how 'cute /i/s pain '
How great is his reproach, how great the stain '
Surprising strange! how singular his case ! '
By rebels close confined in such a place.
One thing especially that makes him mourn,

ij -. .v.iuj mat siiui

Are lond of having room enoujrh

to turn.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

What seiz'd his soul with horror and surprise,
He expects now soon to fall a sacrifice —
A sacrifice to Liberty's brave sons.
For blood of innocence and dying groans
His sorrows rise ; an overwhelming flood,
Conscience accus'd, and justice cried for blood.
Whole rivers of such blood could ne'er atone
For all the horrid murders he had done.
Now, thunderstruck, with these ill-boding fates,
Resigns himself and army up to Gates.

THE FALL OF BURGOYNE.
By Rev. Wheeler Case.

Is this Burgoyne, Burgoyne the great,

Who fill'd our land with woe,
And threaten'd vengeance from the State,

Is he now fell so low?

Is't he that made the earth to tremble,

That was so great a curse.
That doth great Babel's king resemble,

Is he now weak like us ?

To Indians he gives stretch no more,
Nor them supplies with knives

To stain our land with crimson gore,
With them to scalp our wives.

His threat'ning proclamation's stopped,
He's now o'erspread with gloom,

The wings with which he flew arc cropp'd,
He has no elboiv room.

I I

The Bnrgoyne Ballads.
His titles he proclaims no more,

^n I II u"^- ^'""^" ^^^^^ to roar
And all hisjoys are fled.

Where is his great and mighty host

rhat huge ^,V«;,//, race" ^ '

The sons of W;.«A Britain's boast?
Theyrepris'ners in disgrace

Pris'ners to rebels, VanJ^ecs too,

O mortifymg stroke !
They caught B^^rgoyne with all his crew

Brilons now wear the yoke. '

^H^^N^^i'''--"''^'^' ^h^t man of mi^rht
Hath laid a snare for Hozac • ^ '

""^ '""^"'^iF^— -« OK

(Is. 14:32.)
'^'^ Rev. Wheeler C.isE.

They are not »„, but a„,ci. ^^^Z^^^ '

The Burgoyne Ballads.

; ■

We'll first survey the dark side of the cloud,
Where scenes of woe in dark succession crowd ;
The cruel savag^e tribes in union join,
And with the British army all combine ;
They soon are in possession of Fort " Ti ; "
Our troops retreat, and with the country fly.
An heart of stone must bleed to hear the cries,
While numbers fall a bloody sacrifice
To Britain s cruel sons and savage rage.
As naught but blood their fury would assuage,
A dark and dismal gloom around us spread.
And joy and gladness from our souls were fled ;
We thought our country lost, our freedom gone,
And these United States were all undone.
The great Burgoyne's most formidable host
Now march along, and as they march they boast.
They boldly rush along, they rage and roar.
Like swelling waves that dash against the shore.
Now is the time for Zioii s God t' appear.
His people's groans and cries have reached his ear.
The Lord for them hath laid a secret snare ;
They'll not escape, but be entangl'd there.
Great Gen'ral Gates appears, inspir'd from heaven.
Wisdom and fortitude to him are given.
Our soldiers all collect from East to West,
With martial ardor glowing in their breast ;
They stop the great Burgoyne in his career.
Him they surround, his feet are in the snare;
With forc'd submission now he bows to Gates,
He and his hosts made pris'ners to these States.

;;

;■

' .(

to Washington and the battles of Trenton and Prince-
ton. As this is not germane to the object of this
work, it is here omitted.

The Burgoyne Ballads. 51

Thick clouds of darkness that our heads hung o'er
Have vanish'd suddenly, and seen no more ;
The rays of light break forth, how clear the skies.
Our gloom is scatter'd, and our hopes arise.
May love and gratitude inspire our breast,
Praise God for these, and trust him for the rest.
These gracious smiles are to prepare the way
For greater things, for a more glorious day.
This horrid, bloody scene erelong will end,
And richer blessings from on high descend.
What's been a snare to us, what's prov'd our fate.
We've been too long corrupted with the great.
The British king and his most vicious court
Practise all kinds of vice, and them support.
Most nat'rally these painted vices flow
From higher ranks to those that are below ;*
How rapidly they've flown down from the great,
In silver streams, and poison'd every State.
Jehovah reigns above, and rules below,
He dries our tears, and they shall cease to flow ;
And blessings pour on those where virtue reigns.
The yoke of tyrants broke, and all their chains ;
Vice, put to flight, hides its malignant head,
And plotting foes no more in corners hid ;
Peace, like a river, flows thro' all the land,
No tyrant moves his tongue or lifts his hand ;
Our liberty extends both far and wide,
Our borders lengthen out on every side ;
States in successive growing numbers rise,
The greatest empire this below the skies.

* Those vices to which the writer alludes have been
most admirably brought out by Mr. J. C. Markham
in his alto rilievos which adorn the Saratoga Monu-
ment.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

' ' f r

JIM

m w

}:\ I

In gloomy deserts, our most distant land,
Large cities shall be built and churches stand ;
There Zion's sons, commission'd from above.
Shall spread the news of their Redeemer's love.
Where wolves now range, and other beasts of prey;
Where Indian tribes more savage are than they ;
Where now the war-whoop sounds they bow prostrate,
Shall worship at the King of Zion's gate ;
Where stand the oak, the beech and the tall pine.
There shall be corn-fields and the fruitful vine ;
Where marshes abound and the wild flag grows,
There shall be the lily and the blushing rose;
The most delicious fruits shall ripen there.
The peach, the plum, the apple and the pear.
Trade unconfined extensively shall grow,
And riches here from every nation flow.
Our naval force how great ! our fleets abound,
Our flocks and herds spread o'er the land around :
Here every sort of fruit springs up and grows,
And all the land with milk and honey fiows.

THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE LAMENTA-
TIONS OF GENERAL BURGOYNE.

(Written in 1778.)

By Rev. Wheeler Case.*

Good heavens! how deep I'm plung'd in woe !
None knows what I now undergo.
B^ntain assum'd a sovereign power,
To crush her sons while in their flower.

* See previous poem for sketch of Rev. Mr. Case's
life.

Th^ Burgoyne Ballads.

One now was wanting bold and brave
T enforce her laws, the sons to enslave

To get a name, to gain applause,
I readily espous'd her cause.
I undertook amidst the throng
To head her army, right or wrong.
^:r^ifn I left, and cross'd the seas
H,s Majesty and North to please
I landed on Canadians shore,

f m. km'","^ ^'^^' ^ ^'^^^ P'-^ss'd o'er-
A T'""^ ^ ,^^°"^' "^y b'^""ek spread '
And struck the rebels all with dread
1 soon was master of Fort "Ti •"* '
Like sheep they all before me fly •
My Indians shout, my cannon roar
The and ,s stained with crimson gore.
All things are pleasing, all things bricrht
The rebel army dare not fight "

I he sun in its meridian shSne'.

I thought the day was now my own.

Y^pictm I dispatch'd a post,

And joy was spread thro' all their coast

But oh, the change, the sudden chan 'e »'

Affairs novv took a turn most stranJ? '

The hero, ^^/.,, appears insight, "
H s tro ,11 ,,otj^.j ^^j^,^ armor bright •

^N\l '"/?' ?r '^^''" ^^""^^-^ spread,'" '
\^ith -Death or Victory- on their lead.f

poem. -^ ^^ ^^^ 'o the original

I i\

54 27ie Burgoyne Ballads.

A sudden panic seiz'd my breast ;
Now, to retreat I thought was best.
I gave the word and led the way,
My orders all as one obey.
In this precipitate retreat,
Our whole dependence was our feet.
Like Tories, they have thus deceiv'd,
Oh ! that we'd never them believ'd.
While running thro' a swampy ground,
The rebel army us surround ;

horrid place ! O dreadful gloom !

1 mourn for want of elbow room.
My tawny soldiers, from me fled,
Have now return'd to scalp my head.
I hear them whoop, I hear them yell,
I'm at the very gates of hell.

O horror this ! unhappy wretch !
They've took an unexpected stretch ;
I'm here confin'd, and naught to eat.
They've robb'd me of my bread and meat.
Water, I thought, was always free,
But that is now denied to me.

that my royal master knew
How I am treated by this crew !
He, lion-like, of whelps bereav'd,
Would see us instantly reliev'd —
No, the attempt woulr' all be vain.
They fight like dev"'j, not like men.
But who would ever have believ'd
That I could thus have been deceiv'd?

1 thought five thousand men, or less,
Thro' all these States might safely pass,
March boldly on one steady course,
The States all trembling at our force.*

* In allusion to the remark of General Burgoyne to

The Burgoyne Ballada.

My error now I see too late,
Here I'm confin'd within this State*
Yes, in this little spot of ground,
Enclos'd by Yankees all around.
With this five thousand — yes with ten,
And these Greai Britain s chosen men.
In Europe let it ne'er be known,
Nor publish it in Askelon,
Lest the uncircumcised rejoice,
And distant nations join their voice.f
What will my friends in Britain say ?
I wrote them I had gained the day,
I made them both rejoice and sing,;];
But now they'll strike a mournful string.
Three things now strike me with surprise :
First, I believ'd the Tories' lies ;
What also brought me to this plight,
I thought the Yankees would not fight.§

George IV., when contemplating his expedition — viz.,
that " with five thousand men he could easily march
through the entire American colonies."

* Rhode Island, where Burgoyne was kept until his
exchange.

f Burgoyne, as mentioned in the preliminary sketch
of that general, before coming to America had served
with great distinction in Europe — a fact which caused
him to be selected to command this expedition. No
wonder, then, that he should have felt terribly morti-
fied at the unlucky result of his campaign in America.

% Burgoyne's despatches to England previous to his
surrender had been of the most encouraging descrip-
tion.

§ Probably in allusion to the fact that Governor
Skene had told Burgoyne, before the latter sent out his

TJie Burgoynf. Ballads.

Thirdly, I'm most asham'd to say,
I lied so fast I missed my way.
How strange that I should take this route,
When I'm so swamp'd and hemm'd about,
The de'il himself could ne'er get out.
Alas! I'm overborne with grief!
There's none appears for my relief!
Where are my titles and my fame ?
I've lost my honor and my name.
At Bcmiington, Stark gave the wound
Which, like a gangrene, spread around
O'er Saratoga's cursed ground.
Heart-sickness seiz'd the camp so fast,
All courage fail'd ; and there at last
Arnold and Lincoln gave the blow
That jiroved our final overthrow.
^;';/^>/r/ with wings our I'nes Hew o'er.
The like I never saw b'^forc ;

expedition to Bennington, that the inhabitants would
make no resistance — in fact, said Skene, "all you have
to do is to scatter plunder on your march, and then
the rebels will be so busily engaged in collecting it,
that you need have no fear of any attack." Skene, in
fact, in more senses than one, was Burgoync's evil
genius; for it was through his advice that Burgoync
advanced by land in pursuit of Schuyler, instead of tak-
ing Lake (icorge, by which means so much time was
lost that Schuvler had ample time to gather his forces
to make his successful stand at Saratoga. Ramsey,
in his " History of the American Revolution," states
that Skene gave this advice, so that, at the expense
of Great Britain, he could have a road cut through
from Skenesborough (Whitehall, N. Y.) to benefit
himself.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

He threaten'd death to every one
That dar'd to fire another gun.
The Hessiafis, thunderstruck, turn pale *
The stupid asses' hearts now fail ;
Thus seiz'd with trembling and dismay,
Their new commander they obey ;
The panic spread from breast to breast,
And^I was struck among the rest.
Language now fails — it can't express
Th' amazing horror and distress.
Cannon-like claps of thunder roar.
Their balls like hail upon us pour ;
Flashes of fire around us blaze :
The sun now lost his feebler rays :
Volumes of smoke o'ercloud the skies,
And scenes of blood salute our eyes.
The gloom of death around us waits,
And all the vengeance of the States.
I must submit or die — but how
To these despised Yankee's bow ?

I wish I never had been born.

II I submit, I'm laugh'd to scorn ;

* Br7insxvickcrs, not Hessians^ who were chiefly in
the Southern Department. The Iirunswickers, at the
second battle of Saratoga, manned the Brunswick re-
doubt captured by Arnold in his impetuous charge at
the close of the battle. Through the j)atriotic elTortsof
Mrs. E. n. Walworth, that most energetic trustee of
the Saratoga Monument Association, (ieneral de Pey-
ster has placed a beautiful tablet marking the site of
Arnold's charge. Hon. James M. Marvin, George M.
Pullman and others b.ave also erected tablets on
dilTerent points of the battle-ground.

';i

!.:

58 The Burgoyne Ballads.

If I refuse, I know my doom —
Among the living I've no room.
The blood of innocence I've shed —
This fills my guilty soul with dread.
My brethren's blood against me cries,
And calls for vengeance from the skies.
Cain's crime was great, but not so bad.
The blood of only one he shed ;
But I have laid a country waste,
And human nature have disgrac'd ;
I've slain each sex of ev'ry age.
And slaughter'd victims to my rage.*
One demon only tempted Cain,
Legion, and more within me reign.
Horror and death do me surprise,
A shower of lead around me flies.
In Saul, when guilt and fear arise,
Away to Endor straight he goes ;
He prays the witch, tho' most unjust,
To raise up Samucl\ from the dust.
That he might tell what would be best
For him to do while thus distress' d.
But I'm confined, and cannot go
To Endor, there to tell my woe ;
I'm here pent up to grieve and mourn,
I scarce have room enough to turn.

*As stated rtiw/i', this imputation on Burgoyne is most
unjust. Still, allowance must be made for the bitter
partisan feehng of the day.

f The fact of the writer emphasizing Samuel wovX^X
seem to show he had some one particularly in his
mind — an allusion which, at the time this was written,
was probably understood, but which is lost to us
readers of the present day.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

O that that prophet would arise,

My priests have told me naught but lies.

What shall I say? — what shall I do?

" My council, now I turn to you."

A council now of war is held ;

They all as one agree to yield ;

Their colors strike, to Gates they bow,

Lay down their arms, and otf they go.*

As they begin to march, as soon

The conquerors all agree
To sound the "Yankee Doodle "tune

Upon the highest key.f

* This, again, is in allusion to the fact that Burgoyne,
against the advice of Riedesel and all the officers whom
he had summoned into council, was at first deter-
mined not to surrender, but to try and reach Fort Ed-
ward, and thence, via Lakes George and Champlain, to
Canada. And it was only after the most strenuous ex-
ertions on the part of his generals that he finally yielded.
Had he not done so, his entire army would have
been compelled to surrender most ignominiously, and
without any conditions whatever.

f " The origin of this air," says Lossing, " is involved
in obscurity. It seems to be older than the United
States. It is also said to be the tune of an old Eng-
lish nursery song called ' Lucy Locket,' which was
current in the time of Charles II. In New England
Colonial times it was known as ' Lydia Fisher's Jig.'
A song composed in derision of Cromwell began with
'"Yankee Doodle came in town,
Riding on a pony.
With a feather in his hat,
Upon a macaroni.' "

*-*^ —

60 The Burgoyns BallaJa.

Musicians all of various kinds
With utmost skill now play,

To raise the pris'ners' drooping minds,
And demons drive away.

Such charms of music ne'er before
Were heard within our land,

But all their skill they now fjive o'er
For want of David's hand.*

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN COLONEL PAINE
AND MISS CLORINDA FAIRCHILD,
WHEN TAKING LEAVE OF HER TO
GO ON THE NORTHERN EXPEDITION
AGAINST BURGOVNE.

CoL Paine. — I'm come to let my dear Clorinda know
My bleeding country calls, and I must go.

* A surgeon who was with Sir VV^illiam Johnson in
1 755, at Lake George, composed a song to the air which
he called *' Yankee," as a take-off of the uncouth appear-
ance of the Provincial troops. Contrary, however, to
his design, it was considered good martial music, and
became very popular. While the British were in
Boston some poet wrote a piece in derision of the New
England troops, which Mr. Lossing gives in full in his
"Cyclopa:dia of United States History" (Harper «Sl
Bros.). This is the original " Yankee Doodle" song.
"The tune," says Lossing, " is so associated with the
patriotic deeds of Americans, that it always inspires a
love of country in the heart of any good citizen." It
is now accepted as our national air, and is in positive
contrast in spirit to the stately " G'^d Save the King"
of Old England.

(

TJie Burgoyne Ballads.

Distrcss'd it calls aloud, To arms ! to arms !
The trumpet sounds, I now must leave your charms.
I've drawn my sword, I'll go forth with the brave,
And die a freeman, ere I live a slave.

Clo. — Good Heavens ! can this be true — can it be
so ?
You pierce my heart, I'm overwhelmed with woe.
Is this your love — is this the kind return,
To win my heart, and leave me thus to mourn ?
Oh, should you fall a victim there to death,
I can't survive, I must resign my breath !

Paine. — My dear Clorain, forbear to weep — forbear !
I trust my life to God's paternal care;
He will protect the men whose cause is just
And in the God of armies put their trust.
We'll boldly go and smite those rebels dead
Who dare oppose our Continental Head ;
Then I'll return and my Clorinda wed.

Clo. — If naught your mind will change, then take
the field,
Go play the man, and Heaven be your shield.
Go forth and act the hero, crush our foes,
Who slav'ry love and liberty oppose.
May Liberty's brave sons the triumph spread,
Put all their foes to flight, or view them dead.
Should Heaven, propitious, our good cause maintain,
And our brave troops with you victorious reign.
Then cheerfully with them we'll victory sing,
And join with them in praise of Zion's King.
VVHth what transporting joy I'd then receive
That dearest man with whom I wish to live.
But oh ! the cruel fate of war —

Paine. — My dear Cloraiti, forbear ; we now must
part.
Adieu, my love — but oh ! my bleeding heart.

The Btirgoyne Ballads.

! 1

This said, the tears flow'd from her eyes,
Her cheeks all pale spread o'er ;

Each other they emhrace with sighs,

'Till they could weep no more.
# * » * *

C/o, — Farewell, my dear, farewell, dear Colonel Paine
Heaven be your guard, while foes around are slain,
Return you safe, where love and freedom reign.

Paine. — Farewell, my dear Clorain, my only fair.
May angels keep you safe from ev'ry snare,
Adieu, my dear, I leave you in their care.

A SHORT REVIEW OF BURGOYNE'S
EXPEDITION.

BY ROBERT DINSMORE.*

Mv faithful friend and uncle, kind,

I would bring some things to your mind,

* Robert Dinsmore, poet, born in Windham, N. H.,
October 7th, 1757; died there March i6th, 1836.
He was of Scotch-Irish descent. At the age of eigh-
teen he enlisted in the Revolutionary Army, and served
at the battle of Saratoga. He became a farmer at
Windham, was a zealous Presbyterian, and used to
make verses on topics arising from personal incidents.
He called himself the " Rustic Bard," and published, in
1828, a volume entitled " Incidental Poems." In his
" Old Portraits and Modern Sketches" Whittier says :
" He lived to a good old age, a home-loving, unpre-
tending farmer, cultivating his acres with his own
horny hands, and cheering the long rainy days and
winter evenings with homely rhyme. He wrote some-
times to amuse his neighbors, often to soothe their sor-

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Which still impress'd on mine I find,

By recollection ;
That seems my heart with yours to bind

In strong affection.

From my first dawn of life you've known me ;
When Nature on the world had thrown me,
You did a first-born nephew own me,

Or younger brother ;
And friendship ever since have shown me,

Kind like my mother.

Childhood and youth, manhood and age.
You've been my friend in every stage ;
Sometimes in sport we would engage.

Our nerves to try ;
Sometimes t' explore the music page,

The genius ply.

When British laws would us enthrall,
Our country for defence did call ;
Then martial fire inspir'd us all,

To arms we Hew ;
And as a soldier, stand or fall,

I went with you !

O'er western hills we travell'd far,
Pass'd Saratoga, the site of war,

row under domestic calamity, or to give expression to
his own."

The poem here given was written to Deacon Isaac
Cochran, of Antrim, N. H., his mother's brother, who
was a lieutenant at the taking of General Burgoyne,

October 17th, 1777.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

V-

J *

Where Burgoyne roU'd his feudal car

Down Hudson's strand :
And Gates, our glorious western* star,

Held high command.

From the green ridgef we glanced our eyes,
Where village flames illum'd the skies.
Destruction there was no surprise,

On Hudson's shore!
Though smoke in burning pillars rise,

And cannons roar !

But to Fort Edward we were sent.
Through icy Bartenskilnij; we went.
And on that plain we pitch'd our te'it,

'Gainst rain and snow ;
Our orders there, was \sic\ to prevent

The flying foe.

By counter orders, back we came,
And cross'd the Hudson's rapid stream,
At Schuyler's Mills,§ of no small fame,

Thence took our post,
Near Burgoyne's line, with fix6d aim

To take his host!

* Gates's home was then in Pennsylvania, at that
time considered West.

f Now, the road leading from the village of Quaker
Springs to Schuylersville, N. V. This road was first
cut through by Burgoyne to make a path for General
Fraser, who led the right wing in its advance south.

JThe Battenkill, which, rising in Vermont, empties
into the Hudson, between Fort Miller and Schuylers-
ville.

§ The present village of Schuylersville, N. Y.

The Burgoyne Ballads. 65

With courage bold, we took the field,
Our foes no more their swords could wield,
God was our strength, and He our shield,

A present aid.
Proud Burgoyne's army there did yield.

All captive made !

Great Britain's honor there was stain'd,
We sang a glorious victory gain'd !
From hence our States a rank obtain'd,

'Mongst nations great ;
Our future glory was ordain'd,

As sure as fate !

To Windham, back with joy we turn'd,
Where parents dear our absence mourn'd ;
And our fair friends in rapture burn'd

To see our faces !
Sweet pearly drops their cheeks adorn'd

In our embraces !

When all our vanquish'd foes were fled.
Love, peace and harmony were shed.
Like oil descending on the head,

Or milk or wine ;
Williams,* the man of God, us fed

With food divine.

O ! let not you and I [sic\ forget
How often we've together met,
Like Heman and Jeduthon,f set

In God's own house ;
And solemnly his table at

Renew'd our vows !

* Rev. Simon Williams.

fThe two principal leaders of the singing in the
congregation at Windham.

^BS

T-^iX^f^STK:!^

i
i

; \

'Ml

i r

lii 1

TA^ Burgoyhe Ballads.

And when the sac-ed scene was past,

We sang Doxology at last,

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

United Three !
One God, our souls redeemed last,

So let it be.

While Reason in her seat remains,
And blood runs streaming in my veins.
Or Memory her power retains,

I shall review,
And think upon the various scenes

I've past with you.

FOUR BURGOYNE EPIGRAMS.

In seventeen hundred and seventy-seven.
General Burgoync set out for Heaven ;
But, as the Yankees would rebel.
He missed his route and went to Hell.

II.

Burgoyne, alas ! unknowing future fates.

Could force his way through woods^ but not through

GATES.t

*My friend, Dr. James D. Butler, formerly of "\^er-
mont, but now (1893) of Madison, Wis., sends me the
above, which, he writes, was current in Vermont for a
long time after the Revolution.

f The author of the above epigram, which was pub-
lished in 1777, shortly after the battles of Saratoga,
was David Edwards. He was born in the city of New
York in the spring of 1747, of English parents. His

The Burgoyne BaUads.

III.

A CABINET REPARTEE*

To North the Lean said George the Wise,
Here's with o/te Arnold much ado ;

father, John Edwards, was a well-known character in
town, where he followed the profession of a " tea-water
man." At the early age of twelve years, David was
apprenticed to Garret Noel, at the Meal Market
Noel was the principal bookseller in the city, and he
afterward transferred young Edwards to Hugh Gaine,
the publisher of the New Vork JMerairy, who taught
him the printing business. David became a member
of a secret association called the " Liberty Boys," of
whom Isaac Lean was at the head, and was the
author of most of the political squibs circulated by
them in the city. He was an active participator in
the stamp and tea-act troubles, and was wounded
on January i8th, 1770, in the fray which occurred
between the citizens and soldiers on Golden Hill (John
Street, between Gold and Cliff streets), since known as
the " Battle of Golden Hill," and which action, instead
of that at Lexington, caused the first bloodshed in the
war of the American Revolution. He remained in
the city until its occupation by the British, in 1776,
when he went with his employer to Newark, and
remained there a week, during which time Gaine made
his terms with Howe, and returned to New Vork and
became a rank Tory. David, however, refused to ac-
company him, and, going to Trenton, was at once em-
ployed by Isaac Collins, the printer of the New Jersey
Gazette, in whose employ he continued until the close
of the war. In 1784 he returned to New Vork and

'\ « I

68 The Bimjoyne Ballads.

The drowsy Premier, starting, cries,
'Tis well, my liege, there are not ^ivo !

IV.

OUR COMMANDERS.f

Gage nothing did, and went to pot ;
Howe lost one town, another got ;
Guy % nothing lost, and nothing won ;
Dunmore was homewards forced to run ;
Clinton was beat, and got a garter.
And bouncing Burgoyne catch'd a Tartar;
Thus all we gain for millions spent
Is to be laugh'd at, and repent.

worked for Samuel London until his death, which occur-
red in 1 794. The greater part of the poetical eflfusions
which appeared in CoUins's paper were attributed to
Edwards. For a portion of the above sketch I am in-
debted to Albert J. Disney, in the Historical Maga-
zine, Vol. III., page 350.

Another version of the authorship of the verses —
doubtless without foundation — is that it was composed
by a student at the Westminster School, who wrote it
in Latin as an epigrammatic couplet upon the subject
" Saratoga" — that being the word selected for the day's
exercises. So at least says the "Chaplet of Comus."

* Epigram from the New York Ptiblic Advertiser of
December 5th, 1777. Walpole, in his "Last Journals,"
II., page 159, says that it was written by Arnold him-
self, as a parody of one of Burgoyne's manifestoes.

f This epigram is from the London Evening Post.

X Sir Guy Carleton, by far the ablest general and
most humane officer that England ever sent out to the
colonies.

s ■
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The Burgoyne Bidlads.

THE HALCYON DAYS OF OLD ENGLAND ;

OR,

WISDOM OF ADMINISTRATION DEMON-

STRATED/^

{To the tune of *' Ye Maihy of Mortals .")

Give ear to my song, I'll now tell you a story,
This is the bright era of Old England's glory ;
And though some may think us in pitiful pliglit,
I'll swear they're mistaken, for matters go right I

Sing tantarara, wise all, wise all.
Sing tantarara, wise all.

Let us laugh at the cavils of weak silly elves !
Our statesmen are wise men ! — they say so them-
selves !
A.nd though little mortals may hear it with wonder,
'Tis consummate wisdom that causes each blunder !
Sing tantarara, etc.

* On December 2d, 1777, an express arrived in Lon-
don from Carlcton saying that he had learned by
deserters and believed that the Provincials had taken
Burgoyne and his whole army jirisoners. On the 15th
this unwelcome news was confirmed by Captain Craig,
as Walpole writes, "after great slaughter and desertion
of the Germans." This charge against Burgoyne's
German allies is in the highest degree unjust, since,
had it not been for them, it is exceedingly doubtful if
Burgoyne would have had any army to surrender.
The Brunswickers, under the brave Riedesel, prevented
the utter rout of Burgoyne on September 19th, and
saved his army from annihilation on October 7th.
At the end of December Walpole wrote and publish-
ed the above ballad. Walpole's " Last Journals," Vol.
II., page 187.

The Burgoyne Ballads,

\'\

If !

They now are conducting a glorious war!
(It began about tea, about leathers, and tar !)
With spirit they pushed what they piafi:, d with sense !
Forty millions they've spent for a tax of three pence !

Sing tantarara, etc.

The debts of the nation do grieve them so sore.
To lighten our burden — they load us the more !
They aim at the American cash, my dear honey !
Vet beggar this kingdom and send them the money.

Sing tanturara, etc.

What honors we're gaining by taking their forts,
Destroying lialeaux and blocking up ports ;
Hurgoyne would have worked them--l)ut for a mishap,
By Gates anil one Arnold he's caught in a traj) !
Sing tantarara, etc.

But Howe \vas more cautious and prudent by far,
lie sailed with his tlect up the great Delaware ;
All summer he struggled and strove to undo them.
But the plague of it was that he could not get to them.

Sing tantarara, etc.

Oh, think us not cruel because our allies

Are savagelv scalping men, women, and boys !

Natural allcction to this step doth move us —

The more they are scalped, the more they will love us !

Sing tantarara, etc.

Some folks are uneasy and make a great pother,

l-'or the loss t)f oni' army and half of another ;

But, sirs, next campaign by ten thousands we'll slay

them.
If we can but find soldiers and money to pay them !

Sing tantarara, etc.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

I've sung you my songf, now I'll give you a pray'r:
May peace soon succeed to this horrible war !
Again may we live with our brethren in concord !
And the authors of mischief all hang in a strong cord

Sing tantarara, etc.

TWO I5URGOYNE DITTIES.

Father and I went down to camp,
Along with Captain Goodwin ;
There we saw the men and boys
As thick as hasty pudding.
Antl there we saw a deuced gun,
As big as tree of majjle,
'Twas on a deuced little cart,
A load for father's cattle !

II.*

John Burgine's a mighty big man.
" Give me live thousand men." says he,
" And I'll clean out the rebel clan ;
Give me live thousand men," says i c,

* Mr. Jared C. Markham, in sending me the above
ditty, writes as follows : " The enclosed verses, as near
as i can remembi r, were those that my grandfather,
Asa Markham, used to sing to me when 1 was a
child, sixty years ago. Asa M.irkham, a great-giandson
of Daniel Markham, who was the first of the family to
come to the colonies, in 1666. Daniel Markham was
an own cousin to Major William Maikham, the father
of William Markham, who was archbishop of York,
and one of the private council of George Hi. (p. 3), at

The Burgoyne Ballads.

" And we'll march the country through.

The rebels are cowards, you'll see,

The people are loyal and true."

The men arc raised, and on comes John,

With red-coats and Hessians in plenty.

The Tories and Indians fall in

In regiments and battalion,

And 'mong them was seen grim Gov' nor Skene*

Upon his old blundering stallion.

Hut let them all j'ine and come on,

With all their big lords and ladies.

And all tlieir gew-gaws and laces.

All got with their taxes on tea,

And everything else they can sec.

Of the tax we won't pay a penny.

We ask no " j)rotection" of George,

And uf John we do not expect any,

With all his grand proclamations !

the time of the American Revolution. So, while
the archbishop was luxuriating at tlie British court,
and encouraging by his advice his king to war upon
the colonies, his second cousin was rnjoying the
freedom of colonial rebellion and revolution. .Again,
a great-grandson of the ar<jhbis.hoj), Clements R.
Markliam, is now the secretary of the Royal Geo-
g aphical Society in London, while, on this side, m
the United States, the present writer is the architect
of the Saratoga Monument a structure which com-
memorates the surrender of Burgoyne — an event
which was the turning-j)oint of the Revolution."

* Governor Skene was always during the Revo-
lution a /ft'/c noir. To him were ascribed by the
settlers many of the annoyances and troubles uf the
day. Hence this allusion.

The Burgoyne Balliuh.

Of pardon and fine " protection,"

He's 'listed the whole Six Nations

To bring us into subjection.

But let the i)oor devils come on,

Xlie Indians and Tories and John,

We'll learn them a trick they don't know !

AN OLD VERSE.

The followiniT specimen of ins^cnious versification
was published in a Philadelphia paper while the fate
of Burgoyne was in doubt. It may be read three dif-
ferent ways: First, let the whole be read in the order
in wh'ch it was written ; second, read the linos down-
ward on the left of each comma in every line ; third,
in the same manner on the right of each comma. In
the first reading the Revolutionary cause is condemned,
and by the others it is encouraged and lauded.

Hark ! hark ! the trumpet sounds, the din of war's

alarms,
O'er seas and solid grounds, doth call us all to arms ;
Who for King George doth stand, their honors soon

shall shine ;
Their ruin is at hand, who with the congress join.
The acts of ])arliament, in tliem 1 much delight,
I hate their cursed intent, who for the congress fight ;
The Toiies of to-day, they are my daily teast,
They soon will sneak away, who independence i)oast ;
Who non-resistance hold, they have my hand and heart,
May they for slavc-s be sold, who act a Whiggish j)art ;
On Mansfield, North and Bute, may daily blessings

pour.
Confusion and dispute, on congress evermore,
To North and British lortl, may honors still be done,
I wish a block or cord, to Gen. Washington.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

EPITAPH

On two American officers who were killed and scalped
by the Indians in the employ of the British at Isle aux
Noix, where the tombstone is still to be seen :

" Sons of America, rest in quiet here,
Britannia, blush, Burgoyne, let fall a tear ;
And tremble, Europe, sons with savage case \sic],
Death and Revenge await you with disgrace."

' <•'

; 1

MERZ KATER.

[A BURLESQUE song and popular air, which the
Brunswick officers (captured at Saratoga), in their
quarters at Bethlehem, Pa., in 1779, used to sing:]

" 1st es nicht ein rcchter Scher/.
Wenn ein Kater in den Mcrz
Auf den Dash, ruft seiner Frau
Und beshudz schreyt Mi-au !" *

* This first stanza is the only one preserved in the
traditions of the captive "Convention troops," still
prcser '^ed among the old inhabitants of Bethlehem, Pa.

TRANSLATION.

" Is it not a rare delight,
When a tom-cat in the nigiit,
On the roof t"<3e makes his bow,
Calling to his wife, Mi-au !"

ANECDOTE.

In August of 1777, and for a period of ten months
thereafter, the minister's house of the Lebanon, Pa.,
Moravian congregation was the abode of Hessian pris-

i (

The BuvQoyne Ball ails.

TO THE RELICS OF MY BRITISH GREN-
ADIER.

By E. VV. B. Canning *

I HAVE in my possession a portion of tiic skeleton of
a British officer of the grenadiers, who was killed in

oners. The pastor of the congregation has made the
following entry in his diary, under date of February
4th, 1778:

" To-day a rifleman from Ausbach and a corporal
visited me. They related that recently General Howe
had written a letter to Washington, containing merely
a transcript of chapter 7 of the prophet I^zekiel, and
that Washington had rei)lied by an epistle embodying
chapter 4 of the Book of Baruch."

Communicated to the author by Mr. John W. Jor-
dan, of Philadelj)hia, Pa.

■"■ Edward VV. B. Canning, poet and author, was
born in Gill, Mass., November Sth, i8i3;and after
graduiting from Williams College he taught school
in Western Virginia, but removed to Stockbrid^'e,
where he became principal of the Williams iXcademy.
In 1854 he founded a family school, which he
continued until 1858. He always took great inter-
est in anything pertaining to our Revolutionary his-
tory, especially that relating to our border warfare.
He was mainly instrumental in having placed the
unique memorial to the Stockbridge Indians in the
naval cemetery of Stockbridge, and also in procuring
the erection of the monument which now (1893) marks
the site of the fall of Colonel Ephraim Williams (the
founder of Williams College) at the battle of Lake
George, September, 1755 ; and Mr. Canning's name is

The Burgoyne Ballads.

the battle of October 5th, 1777, which was accidentally
cxhumcc' in the spring of 1852. The skull has a per-
foration throu«][h the rijjht temple, and the bullet that
made it wa-: found inside. A portion of his uniform
coat bears the rolor and texture of the cloth and two
heavily gold-plated buttons, after a burial of seventy-
live years. — Canning.

Strange bivouac, old Grenadier,
Thou in my quiet study here.

Hast found at last ;
While I, who life's camj^aign began
When thou for forty years hadst done,

Patrol the past.

O had your hollow skull a brain.
Your bony mouth a tongue again,

I know full well
In ^^'/tys and li.'licns and hoios you'd find
A Yankee of the bluest kind

Your sentinel.

very appropriately inscribed on the monument as one
of the originators of that tribute to a most distin-
guished man in colonial times. He was also, until his
death, a valued trustee of the Saratoga Monument
Asst)ciation, :• ' until a few years since — when his
many eng igenu nts forced him to resign — its corre-
spondingsccret.iiy. During ilu.' time that Mr. Caiming
held I lie position of deputy naval ctficer of the i)ort
of New N'ork. it was the writer's good r«)rtune to be
associated with him ; during all of which time he was
constantly struck with his loving graciousness of
manner, which, comhincd witli rare dignity and ex-
ecutive ability, made him not only resi)ect('d but
revered. He died Augu-^t 12th, 1890.

The Burgoyne Jiollads. %%

I i;^ucss for many an hour we'd join
In talk about Sir John Burjjoyne,

And the " whole boodle,"
Who gan their jjame of brag: in June,
Hut on one bright October noon
Laid i)ride and arms down to the tune

Of " Yankee Doodle."

Just as old Dido ached of old
To be by brave .luieas told

yuantus Achilles —
Oualcs" — but I can't write it all —
So I am prurient to recall
How once our fathers pounded small

King George's follies.

I long for more about that day
When Rebels met in grim array

The Regulars:
When trumpet clang and plunging shot
And shouting made the battle hot

About their ears.

When Dearborn,* Poor.f and Paterson,:}:

* Major-General Henry Dearborn, born in North
Hampton, N. II., February 23d. 1751; died in Rox-
bury, Mass., June 6th, 1829. lie served with bravery
at the battles of Hunker Hill (where he caused the
retreat) and Saratoga, and accompanied Arnold in his
expedition to Canada in I/T5. He was aiij)ninted by
Jelferson Secretary of War — an office he held from
1793 to 1797. He was appointed senior majt)r.
general in the I'nited States Army January 27th,
181 2, and assignetl to the command of the Northern
Department. He published an account of the battle

'78 The Burgoyne BuUnda.

And Cilley, Brooks* and Livingston,

With hearts of steel,
Met Phillips, Fraser, Hamilton,
Rolling the tide of slaughter on,
And made them reel.

When Morgan and his riflemen
" Bearded the lion in his den,"

And signed his name ;
While Arnold— battle's thunderbolt-
Flashed, like a comet on a colt.

About the plain —

Fd ask what gallant Fraser said,
When bullet from the tree-top sped,

*i !{l

of Bunker Hill and wrote a journal of his expedition
to Canada. He was also a minister to Portugal from
1822 to 1824. Fort Dearborn (the site of Chicago,
111.) was named after him.

t General Enoch Poor, born in Andover, Mass.,
June 21st, 1736, died near Hackensack, N.J., Septem-
ber 8th, 1 780. He served with great distinction
till near the close of the Revolutionary War ; and in
announcing his death, General Washington declared
him to be "an officer of distinguished merit, who as a
citizen and a soldier had every claim to the esteem of
his country."

% Major-Gcneral John Paterson, distinguished for
bravery and jxitriotism during Daniel Shays's Rebellion
in 1 786, he commanded a detachment of Berkshire
militia that was ordered out to suppress the rising.
M. C. during 1S03 to 1805.

* Afterward governor of Massachusetts.

The Burrjoync Ballads.

Its work had done :
How stout old Earl Balcarras tore,
When Yankees '* true to Freedom swore"

His twelve pound gun.

How many inches on that day
The visage ot Burgoyne, I pray,

A lengthening went ?
Didst hear him say — as once hefore —
That with ten thousand men — no more —
He'd conquering walk from shore to shore

The continent ?

But I Tget, old Grenadier,
You never lived yourself, to hear

What others said:
A luckless missile found you out,
And, killing instantly no doubt,

It hored your head.

For seventy-five long years, old brave,
you occupied youi shallow grave —

No gun to stir ;
At length by plough and not by drum
Disturbed your huge wreck has become

My prisoner.

And now I'll keep you guarding there
All of your coat the mould could spare.

And darkling worm ;
With the gashed ball by which you died,
And buttons, too, that lit with pride

Your uniform.

To those infused with martial leaven,
Of Bemus's Heights in '"jy

The Burgoyne Bidlads,

\< >■

You'll tell for long ;
Aye — and perchance some bard may troll
From out that ragged bullet hole,

Another song.

BURGOYNE'S DEFEAT.
An Anciknt Ditty.

Come, all you valiant soldiers that's courage stout

and bold.
Who scorn as long as life doth last, ever to be con-

troll'd ;
Come listen to my ditty, and the truth to you I'll tell.
Concerning many a soldier, who for his country fell.

lirave General Burgoyne from Canada set sail,
'Twas with eight thousand regulars, he thought would

never fail ;
With Hessians, Canadians and Tories, as we hear,
Beside a licet of shipping, o'er Lake Champlain did

steer.

Before Ticonderoga, the first day of July,

Their fleet and army did appear, and we did them

espy;
Their motions we observed full well both night and

day.
And our brave boys prepared all for the bloody fray.

Our garrison they viewed, and soon their troops did

land ;
When General St. Clair, he came to understand.
That the great Mount Defiance they soon would

fortify,
He found that he must quit his lines, or every man

must die.

«.(

The Ihir>joyue Jinlhuh.

July tlie fourth vvc liad orders to retreat,

Ami the next morning left our lort, liurgoync he tlio't

us beat ;
So closely they pursued us, 'twas nigh to Iluhharton;
Our rear guard they'd defeated, they tlio't they'd

gain'd renown.

And when our congress came to hear that we our

lines had left.
And had retreated near to Albany to rest,
lirave (ien. (lales they sent us our country to relieve,
With shouts of acclamation of joy we him receiv'd.

lUirgoyne sent out a parly of fifteen hundacl men,
Of Hessians and Canadians, came near to lienning-

ton,
With savages and Tories, our cattle for to steal.
Commanded by a Tory, they call'd him Col. Skein.

And when brave Gates came to hear of Col. Skein's

conduct.
Sent out a small party, his march for to obstruct ;
They took all his artillery, and Skein his llight may

mourn,
'Twas out of fifteen hundred men but four hunilred

return'd.

And when Burgoync he came to hear that Skein did

not succeed,
With his army and artillery liurgoyiie he did proceed.
Thinking tliereft)rc to frighten us and make us My ;
But soon he found out his mistake, lie found we'd
sooner die.

July the fourteenth, that morning being clear.
Brave Gates unto his men did say, my boys be of
good cheer,

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The Btirgoyne Ballads.

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For Burgoyne, my lads, is advancing, and we will

never fly,
To maintain our country's rights, we'll fight until we

die.

And soon the news was brought us their army, it

was near;
And then, my boys, we met them, 'twas without dread

or fear.
And 'twas nigh unto Stillwater, and there about

noon-day.
And quick as you shall hear, my boys, began the

bloody fray.

We fought them full six hours, like valiant hearts of

gold,
Each party scorning to give way, we fdught like lions

bold.
Until the leaves with blood are stained ; our generals

they did cry ;
It's diamonds cut diamonds, we'll fight until we die.

N'ght came on, from our lines we did retreat.

Which made the Britons for to think our army it was

beat ;
But early the next morning, we held before their eyes,
As ready to engage again, which did them much

surprise.

Of fighting they seemed tired, to work they then

did go,
In burying of their dead men, entrenchments up did

throw;
Thinking therefore with shot and shell our army to

destroy.
But brave Gates he gave such orders, he did them

all defy !

The Burfjoyne Ballads. 83

At length our gracious Lord inspired our noble

Gates' mind,
To send out G en. Arnold * to see if he could find

* A bitter controversy has been carried on for the
last few years as to whether General Arnold was
an actual participant in the battle of September
19th. After carefully weighing the arguments brought
forward on both sides, I believe this to be the fact—
VIZ., that while Arnold may not have been durino-
the action itself actually on the battle-field in person
(though this, even, is by no means proved), yet he was
during the entire action close at hand, superintendino-
and directing, under his own immediate eye everv
nianoeuvre of the different regiments, thus causing
them to act as one harmonious whole. Hence that
m this sense he was a virtual and an active partici-
pant in the battle of the 19th admits of no manner
of doubt. Wilkinson, the only original authority on the
American side who deprives Arnold of the credit of
the success of the action, and who was, also, doubtless
the ''informant" of Gordon «Sl Marshall, is entirely
ivorthless and unreliable in all his statements whenever
his jealousy (as in this case) is aroused, and hence
should not for a moment be believed in this matter
against the concurrent testimony of many of the
survivors of that action, who, after death, left on record
the statement that Arnold was an active participant
in the battle. Among these is an order of General
Kiedesel, first given to the public in Hadden's
"Journal and Orderly Book" (edited by General
Kogers), upon which the editor comments as fol-
lows : " Now, how Arnold could have observed the^^e
things on the part of his troops when, according to
Wilkinson, he was 'calmly sitting on his horse a mile

•I — fj^i 1 vi. .w j*-i

^ui^ v.jidi%^saam!^nmmmmmm^i^''m9mimmif

J%6 Burgoyne Ballads.

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A passage thro' the enemy, and make them for to flee :
Which quickly he obtained, and set his country free.

and a half away from the action, it is very difficult to
understand ! ' " Steadman, a most reliable authority
also, states the fact that Arnold was in the action.
But besides all this, the following, from an Orderly
Book kept by Colonel Thaddeus Cook, of Walling-
foid. Conn., now in possession of the American Anti-
quarian Society of Worcester, Mass., should set the
matter beyond all doubt, even to professional carpers
and cavillers. Here it is :

"Division Orders, 20th Sept., a.d. 1777. Genl.
Arnold returns his thanks to the officers and soldiers
of his division for their brave, spirited conduct yester-
day, in withstanding the force of the whole British
Army, whose loss a Deserter from their army says is
upward of one thousand men killed and wounded —
while ours is very trifling, not one fourth Part of the
enemies — a convincing proof of the mercifuU Inter-
position of Heaven in covering our heads in the day
of Battle, and loudly calls for our gratefuU acknowledge-
ments.

" The Genl. observed yesterday that two many offi-
cers thi!i zeal and spirit pushed on in the front of
their companies, whose business it was to have brought
up those in the rear, and hopes they will in future ob-
serve their proper stations and suffer no man to retreat
until an order is given by the Commanding Officer of
the Regts. on Detachments — those who are found to
have deserted their posts in time of Action may ex-
pect Instant Death. —

"The Genl. makes no doubt the Troops will act with
a spirit and firmness becoming free men strugling for
their just Rights and Liberties when they are called out

The Burgoyne Ballads.

And burning all their baggage, made off with haste

and fear,
And up to Saratoga, Burgoyne himself did steer ;
Brave Gates, our bold commander, he after him did

fly.

Resolving for to take them all or every man must
die.

And soon we overtook them, it was nigh to Saratoga,
A burning ail the buildings as they went on the road. '
Twas the 17th of October, they were obliged to
capitulate,

Burgoyne and his army, our prisoners they were
made.

Now to conclude my ditty, my song is at an end ;

I hope no brave American will slight what I 'have

penn'd.
For our cause is just, in God we trust, therefore, my

boys, don't fear,
For brave Gates will clear America in less than one

more year.

Now here's a health to congress, and our commander

Gates,,
To officers and soldiers, whom all the Tories hate,
God prosper and succeed them, it's both by land and

sea.
Success to the brave Americans and sons of liberty.

agam, which they may expect every moment, and
wishes them to make every necessary preparation."

Now, how, in the face of this order, any one can say
that Arnold was not an active participator in the action
of the 19th passes comprehension.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

I' ^'

THE NORTH CAMPAIGN.'^

A Song of Saratoga.

Come unto me, ye heroes,

Whose hearts are true and bold.
Who value more your honor

Than others do their gold ;
Give ear unto my story,

And I the truth will tell
Concerning many a soldier

Who for his country fell.

Burgoyne, the king's commander,

From Canada set sail
With full eight thousand reg'lars.

He thought he could not fail ;
With Indians and Canadians,

And his cursed tory crew,
On board his fleet of shipping

He up the Champlain flew.

Before Ticondcroga,

The first day of July,
Appear'd his ships and army.

And we did them espy.

*This ballad was known during the Revolution as
" The North Campaign," " Gates's Song," and "A Song
for the Red-coats," and was for a long period sung
throughout New England. It has been attributed to
a private in Colonel Brooks's regiment and also to
the author of "American Taxation." A portion of it is
changed somewhat by the " wagoner" of Dr. Dwight's
story. It would seem, however, that this is a mere
paraphrase of " An Ancient Ditty," also published in
this connection, though under a different title.

,il

i> ,■ . I ■

Bli./H

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Their motions we observed
Full well both night and day,

And our brave boys prepared
To have a bloody fray.

Our garrison they viewed them,

As straight their troops did land.
And when St. Clair, our chieftain,

The fact did understand
That they the Mount Defiance

Were bent to fortify,
He found we must surrender,

Or else prepare to die.

The fifth day of July, then,
He order'd a retreat,*

The semi-criticism here is most just. St. Clair,
although a true patriot, erred most amazingly in not
having Mount Defiance, or Sugar-Loaf Hill— as it was
also called, from its resemblance to the old-fashioned
loaves of sugar— fortified. Especially, too, was he great-
ly blameworthy from the fact that the great importance
of fortifying it had been long previously pointed out.
Origmally it had been supposed, and, in fact, had been
taken for granted, that the crest of Sugar-Loaf Hill
was not only inaccessible, but too distant to be of any
avail m covering the main fortress— ?>., Fort Ticonder-
oga. This opinion was, as said, an error, to which
the attention of the officers stationed at Ticonderoga
had been called the preceding year by Colonel John
Trumbull, then adjutant-general for the Northern
Department. When Colonel Trumbull made the
suggestion, he was laughed at by the mess ; but he
soon proved the accuracy of his own vision by throw-
ing a cannon-shot to the summit, and subsequently

,'m

vi'l

88 The Buryoyne Balladn.

And when next morn we started,
Burgoyne thought we were beat.

And closely he pursued us,
Till when near Hubbardton,

Our rear guards were defeated.
He thought the country won.

And when it was told in Congress,

That we our forts had left,
To Albany retreated.

Of all the North bereft,
Brave General Gates they sent us.

Our fortunes to retrieve,
And him with shouts of gladness

The army did receive*

clambered to the top, dragging a cannon after him,
accompanied by Colonels Stevens, Wane, and Arnold.
It was, in fact, a criminal neglect on the part of St.
Clair, that the oversight was not at once corrected by
the construction of a work upon that point, which
would have commanded both the whole post and the
surrounding country. St. Clair was tried afterward
by a court-martial for evacuating Ticonderoga, but he
was acquitted more on account of his tried patriotism
than of his skilful management. Schuyler, also, had
seen the necessity of occupying Mount Defiance, and
had urgently requested from Congress re-enforcements
for that purpose. — Conversations of the Author s
Fatlier zvith Colonel yohn Triimbiill.

* In allusion to the fact that General Schuyler was
most unjustly held in great odium by the New
England troops — a fact which was the cause of his
being superseded by Gates in the command, leaving
Gates to reap the fruits of what Schuyler had, by his

\ '

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Where first the Mohawk's waters

Do in the sunshine play,
For Herldmer's brave soldiers

Sellinger* ambush'd lay :
And them he there defeated,

But soon he had his due, '
And scaredf by Brooks and Arnold

He to the North withdrew.

To take the stores and cattle
That we had gathered then,

Burgoyne sent a detachment
Of fifteen hundred men ;

wonderful generalship, sown. The cause is not far to
seek. Schuyler was a stria disciplinarian, and per-
haps a little too autocratic and unapproachable by his
privates This manner the New Englanders greatly
resented ; and in Gates, who, for motives of his own—

which were to supplant even Washington himself— they
found a person to listen to all their grievances. Hence
bchuyJer was most unjustly superseded, chiefly by
the contemptible jealousy of Adams and other New
Eng anders in Congress. The same feeling of New
England jealousy against the soldiers of New York
and the South had, however, found expression years
before during the ca.npaign, in 1755, of Sir William
Johnson against Dieskau. This contemptible jealousy
had then been very nearly the cause of defeat.
" St. Leger.

t A man employed by the British as a spy was
taken by Arnold, and at the suggestion of Colonel
Brooks sent back to St. Leger with such deceptive
accounts of the strength of the Americans as induced
nim to retreat toward Montreal.

^1/

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^^ ^>^^ Burgoyne Ballads.

By Baum they were commanded,
To Bennington they went;

To plunder and to murder
Was fully their intent.

But little did they know then

VVith whom they had to deal ;
It was not quite so easy

Our stores and stock to steal ;
Bold Stark would give them only

A portion of his lead :
With half his crew ere sunset

Baum lay among the dead.

The nineteenth of September,

The morning cool and clear.
Brave Gates rode through our army,

Each soldier's heart to cheer :
" Burgoyne," he cried, " advances,

But we will never fly ;
No — rather than surrender,

We'll fight him till we die."

The news was quickly brought us,

The enemy was near,
And all along our lines then

There was no sign of fear ;
It was above Stillwater

VVe met at noon that day,
And every one expected

To see a bloody fray.

Six hours the battle lasted,
Each heart was true as gold.

The British fought like lions,
And we like Yankees bold ;

\ I
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The Burgoyne Ballads.

The leaves with blood were crimson,
And then brave Gates did cry —

"Tis diamond now cut diamond !
We'll beat them, boys, or die."*

The darkness soon approaching,

It forced us to retreat
Into our lines till morning,

Which made them think us beat ;
But ere the sun was risen.

They saw before their eyes
Us ready to engage them.

Which did them much surprise.

Of fighting they seem'd weary.

Therefore to work they go
Their thousand dead to bury,

And breastworks up to throw :
With grape and bombs intending

Our army to destroy.
Or from our works our forces

By stratagem decoy.

The seventh day of October

The British tried again.
Shells from their cannon throwing,

Which fell on us like rain,
To drive us from our stations

That they might thus retreat ;
For now Burgoyne saw plainly

He never us could beat.

This of course is " bosh," or, perhaps, we may
charitably call it "poetical license," as Gates acted in
both actions the roll of a coward. See my " Bur-
goyne's Campaign."

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92 TJie Burfjoyne Ballads.

But vain was his endeavor

Our men to terrify ;
Though death was all around us,

Not one of us would fly.
But when an hour we'd fought them,

And they began to yield,
Along our lines the cry ran,

" The next blow wins the field."

Great God who won their battles,

Whose cause is just and true.
Inspired our bold commander

The course he should pursue.
He order'd Arnold forward,

And Brooks* to follow on ;
The enemy were routed,

Our liberty was won !

Then, burning all their luggage,

They fled with haste and fear,
Burgoyne with all his forces

To Saratogue did steer ;
And Gates our brave commander,

Soon after him did hie,
Resolving he would take them

Or in the effort die.

I*' : ,

if ': ;

*John Brooks, governor of Massachusetts, born in
Medford, Mass., May 31st, 1752; died March ist, 1825.
He assisted in fortifying Breed's Hill. In the second
battle of Saratoga, on October 7th, he stormed and
carried the German intrenchments at the head of
his regiment. He greatly assisted Baron Steuben in
his tactics, and was a very valued officer of the Revo-
lution.

I I

The Burgoyne BalhuU.

As we came nigh the village,

We overtook the foe ;
They'd burned each house to ashes,

Like all where'er they go.
The seventeenth of October,

They did cajjitulate ;
Burgoyne and his proud army

Did we our pris'ners make.

Now here's a health to Arnold,

And our commander Gates ;
To Lincoln*'" and to Washington,

VVhom ev'ry Tory hates;
Likewise unto our Congress,

God grant it long to reign,
Our Country, Right and Justice

For ever to maintain.

Now finish'd is my story,

My song is at end ;
The freedom we're enjoying

We're ready to defend ;
For while our cause is righteous,

Heaven nerves the soldier's arm.
And vain is their endeavor

Who strive to do us harm.

THE CARPET KNIGHT.

By Joseph SxANSBURY.f

Late a council of gods from their heavenly abodes
Were call'd on Olympus to meet ;

* General Lincoln behaved bravely in this battle-
and to him is due the credit of crea'/ig a diversion in
favor of Gates by his assault on Ticonderoga.

tjoseph Stansbury, merchant, born in England in

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

Jove gave his commands from his throne in the
clouds :

Attend, and his words I'll repeat.
Ye know, all ye pow'rs that attend my high throne,

Your will to my pleasure must bow ;
I will that those gifts which you prize as your own

Shall now be bestowed on my Howe.

Astrcsa, who long since had quitted the earth.

Presented her balance and sword ;
The honors derived from titles and birth

By JtiJio were instant conferred ;

1750; died in New York City in 1809. Emigrating
to Philadelphia, he became an importing merchant, and
held a high position as a man of integrity and an up-
right and high-minded citizen. In 1776 he was im-
prisoned in Burlington, N. J., for having sung in his
house "Gcd Save the King." He was again, in 1780,
imprisoned by the Whigs in Philadelphia. Upon his
liberation his property was restored, and with his family
he resided in New York during the remainder of the
war, but returned to Philadelphia in 1 785, after a brief
residence in Nova Scotia. Threatened again in that city
with violence, he gave up his former occupation and,
removing to New York, became secretary of an insur-
ance company. He wrote in support of the crown,
and his verses were edited by VVinthrop Sargent,
under the title of " Stansbury's and Odell's Loyal
Verses" (Munsell, Albany, i860) — verses which at the
time they were first written obtained considerable
popularity among the adherents of the crown. The
date of this song, says Mr. Sargent, seems to be De-
cember 24th, 1777, shortly after Howe's return to
Philadelphia, from his idle attempt to surprise Wash-
ington's army at W^hitemarsh.

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The Burgoyne Ballads. 95

Fierce J/^r/gave his chariot ; gay Hermes his wand •

Alcides, his club and his bow ;
Sweet Peace with her olive-branch graced his hand •

And Ve7ms herself did bestow.

Thus enrich'd with such gifts as the gods can impart

1 he hero by Jove was address'd ;
As you wish to reclaim each American heart

Let justice preside in your breast ;
Exhibit the blessings of order and peace

As wide as your conquests shall spread •
Let your promise be sacred— rebellion shall cease

And the laurel shall bloom round your head. '

I know that fell Discord, your zeal to oppose

Will nourish Sedition and Hate ;
Mistakes may occur, and friends suffer with foes •

Yet your wish is confirmed by fate.
Sweet Peace shall revive from the horrors of war

Her empire again be restor'd ;
Affection and duty shall cover each scar,

And Hoioe by the world be ador'd !

Now \yith shame must the muse the sad sequel display •

With sorrow, and shame, and surprise :
The gifts oiAstrcea he lost by the way, *

And her fillet he plac'd o'er his eyes.'
The arms of Alcides he sent to Burgoyne,

And with them the chariot of Mars ;
For what but assistance and weapons divine

Could finish such Quixotic wars ?

Hermes' wand was now useless ; no snakes would
unite.

•Perhaps in allusion to the broken snake, with the
motto " Unite or die," so much in vogue at the time

Tfms.

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96 27<e B^irgoyiie Ballads.

The olive in vain was display'd ;
For blessings no longer attended the fight,
And loyalty lied from its shade.

as a patriotic device. John Holt, editor of the New
York Jotirnal or General Advertiser, a stanch friend
of the Whigs in 1774, discarded the king's arms from
the title of his paper, and substituted in place of it a
serpent, cut in pieces, with the expressive motto,
"Unite or die." In January, 1775, the snake was
united and coiled, with the tail in his mouth, forming a
double ring. On the body of the snake, beginning at
the head, were the following lines :

" United now, alive and free,
Firm on this basis Liberty shall stand ;
And thus supported ever bless our land
Till time becomes eternity."

The designs both of 1774 and 1775 were excellent
— the first, by a visible illustration, showing the dis-
jointed state of the colonies, and the second present-
ing an emblem of their strength when united. Holt
maintained his integrity to the last. When the British
took possession of New York, he removed to /Esopus
(now Kingston, N. Y.) and revived his paper. On the
burning of that village by the British, in 1777, he re-
moved to Poughkeepsie, and published the journal
there until the peace of 1783, when he returned to New
York. Holt was an unflinching patriot — very dif-
ferent in this respect from his contemporary editor,
James Rivington, who turned his coat to suit every
change of mind, but did not long survive the achieve-
ment of his country's freedom, having fallen a victim
to the yellow fever in 1 798.

S 1^

The Burgoym Ballads.

The gifts sent to Burgoyne return'd to the skies-

Uespairinghe yielded his arms;
And fair Venus, disgusted, beheld with surprise

A mortal preferr'd to her charms *

THE CHURCH AND KING CLUB.f

By Joseph Stansbury.

Come, honest Tories, a truce with your politics-

lioc age tells you in Latin as much ;
Drink and be merry and— ^ melancholy, nix /
1 IS de same tmg, do I speaks it in Dutch

,-nn- .T..t '""^f ^ ''^^'■"'' '^^^^ preferred, accord-

ing to the song, to those of Venus herself, was probably
a married lady from Jamaica Plains, near Boston, who
IS named in the same connection, but in rather broader
phmse, by Francis Hopkinson. in his " Battle of the

nft!!?f^" by Stansbury, apparently in the latter part
of i778.for a festive meeting of a loyal association

sav's Mr'^'''°"' "' '^" ^^"^^^ ^"d King Club;
fvv^ .u r^^'S^""^' ^^eie not of unusual occurrence
with the Loyalists. They were generally designed to
bring together at the festive bSard a party of men

7.cfZ^T'"j1 '^'''T'''' ''''' ^" unison-sLilar. in
llf' {, u Union League Club (Republican) and
he Manhattan (Democratic) of New York Citv
In this instance, the members were probably Philadel *
phians,who had followed the royal standard to New
°u\, ^^^ P^''"'^' " 'T's ^" the same in Dutch " w s
probably a local expression arising from the number
of German settlers in Pennsylvania ""lutrs

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

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If old Diogenes lov'd altercation,

Had he, sir, a drop of good wine in his tub ?

Mirth and good humor is oztr occupation ;

Let this be the rule of the Church and King Club.

Well do we know the Adelphi's miscarriages,
And the disasters of Johnny Burgoyne;

As to beefsteaks, no good fellow disparages
One who in battles finds leisure to dhie.*

Congo pretends (O good Lord, what a fibber 'tis !)
Now to feel bold, and to fear no mischance ;

As well might he say that he fights yi?r their liberties
Whom he hath sold in a mortgage to France !f

* This is undoubtedly in allusion both to Burgoyne
supping merrily with his mistress just before his sur-
render and while his army were in great distress for
food (see Stone's " Memoirs of Mrs. General Riedesel,"
Munsell, Albany, N.Y.), and to his dinner with General
Gates immediately after the capitulation.

f It was frequently declared at this period by the
advocates of England that the American Congress
had given secretly some sort of a lien upon a part of
the American territories to France, as a security for
the assistance afforded us by that power. There was
probably no truth in this report, though this cannot
be said positively, in view of the fact that documents
are yet unquestionably to be discovered in the French
archives. The exultationsof the Americans, and of Con-
gress in particular, were, h*^ ""r, naturally and justi-
fiably, as after events provei ly great at the prospects
of the results to flow from the alliance with France
whicht he Confederation had now entered into. The
first anniversary of thf day on which the treaty was
signed was celebrated oy a banquet given by Congress

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Soon shall you see a rebellious vtinority
Blush for the part they have acted so long ;

Britain shall rouse and regain her authority ;
Come then, a bumper and call t'other song.

If old Diogenes lov'd altercation, etc.

SATIRICAL VERSES IN HONOR OF SIR
JOHN BURGOYNE.*

Patente de Lord-Duc pour John Burgoyne.

Nous, le Parlement d'Angleterre,
Souverain par mer and par terre
D'Empereurs, Rois and Potentats,
Corsaires, insulaires, and soubas,
A tous Rois, Etats monarchiques
Margraves, Electeurs, R^publiqucs

to the French minister, at which the King and Queen
of France, the King of Spain and all the princes of
the House of Bourbon were formally toasted amid
salvos of artillery. On May 8th, 1778, Congress had
issued an address to the people, in which the certainty
of victory over England was proclaimed, and a vivid
picture given of the prosperity which would then
attend the destinies of the United States — a picture, as
the result proved.not overdrawn.

* Extract from " Correspondance secrete politique
et litt^raire ou mdmoires pour servir k I'histoire des
cours, des socidtds et de la littdrature en France, depuis
la mort de Louis XV. Tome Cinqui^me, pp. 51-53.

This work, "Correspondance secrete," according to
Barbier, " Dictionnaire des ouvrages anonymes," was
edited by Mdtra and others.

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100 Ty^e Burgoyne Ballads.

Salut N'ayant rien plus £l coeur
Que de combler de biens, d'honneur.
Tous ceux qui par action belle,
Se couvrent de gloire immortelle,
Ayant ^ toutes bonnes fins
Examine tous les bultins
Qui sont venus de I'Am^rique
Et autres lieux rimans en ique:
Ayant enfin oui le rapport
Pr^sent^ par Suffolk and Nort
Sur les hauts faits de Jean Burgoyne
Voulons que ce grand Capitaine
Dont on veut d^nigrer le nom,
En le traitant de fanfaron,
Soit accords toute justice ;
Et pour confondre la malice
De Burke and Pitt ses ennemis
Et d'autres tortueux esprits ;
Mandons ^ notre secretaire
D'exp^dier en beau caractere
A ce General fameux
Brevets and titres glorieux
Pour r^tablir sa renomm^e
Fort injustement attaquee
En maints lieux and pays divers
Tant d^ga que del^ les mers.

A ces causes, par ces pr^sentes
Authentiques lettres-patentes ;
Nous and le Roi, nous le nommons
Due and Milord de Bennington :
Permettons qu'en ses armoiries
Pour supports soient deux batteries
Des canons qu' A Saratoga
Ce general abandonna.

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

101

En faisant si belle retraite,
Quand son armee fut ddfaite
Par ces insurgens, ces poltrons
Et ces Fran9ois vrais fanfarons
Qui n'auront jamais en partage
De nos AUemands le courage,
N'en d^plaise au comte Turpin
Qui I'un de nous, provoque en vain .
Ayant le tout consid^r^
Et murement delibdr^
Avons, sous le grand sceau de cire
Et le cachet de notre Sire,
Expddid le present brevet
De Due Pair, meme Baronnet
Pour le Gdndral Jean Burgoyne,
Signd Bute, Nort and Germaine
Trente Janvier avant minuit
Mil sept cent soixante dix-huit.

Translation of the above by Bauman L. Behien*

Patent of Lord Duke Burgoyne.

WE, the Parliament of England,
Sovereign over sea and land, —

* Bauman L. Bel den, litterateur, born in Brooklyn,
N. Y., November 23d, 1862. Studied at New Bruns-
wick, N. J. His great-great-grandfather, on the ma-
ternal side, was Colonel Sebastian Bauman. Colonel
Bauman served through the Revolution as major in
Colonel Lamb's regiment of artillery, and at the
evacuation of New York by the Americans, in 1776,
was the last officer to leave the city. In October,
1 789, he was appointed postmaster of New York City,
which position he held until his death, October 19th,

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102 57te Burgoyne Ballads.

Over emperors and over kings
And potentates most grand,

And islanders and devils

And the rovers of the seas —
To all kings, margraves, electors,

Republics and monarchies.

Greetmg /

Our hearts' desire being to reward

All who, amid war's alarms,
Have won immortal glory

By splendid feats of arms,

And having well examined

All the bulletins which came
From America, and countries

Too numerous to name.

And having also heard reports,

From Suffolk and from North,
Of the mighty deeds of John Burgoyne,

That soldier of great worth,

And wishing this great captain —

Whose fame they seek to dim.
By calling him a boaster —

Should have justice done to him,

1803. As might be inferred from his ancestry, Mr.
Belden takes great interest in all matters pertaining
to our Revolutionary history. He is (1893) librarian
of the American Numismatic and Archaeological So-
ciety, and resides at Elizabeth, N. J. The reader, es-
pecially one acquainted with the French idiom, cannot
fail to see how admirably this ballad has been rendered
into English by Mr. Belden. Each shade of thought
is preserved, while the feet of the verses is almost exact.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

And to confound the malice
Of his foes, Pitt and Burke,

And other crooked spirits
Who his ruin seek to work.

Now therefore, our secretary

We do herewith command
To send a beautiful parchment,

With brevets and titles grand,

To this most famous general,

That thereby his fair fame
May be fully re-established,

And honors crown his name.

His fame unjustly was attacked

In very many places,
As well here as beyond the sea

They covered it with disgraces.

For these reasons, by these presents —
Honors he has fairly won —

We, and the King, do hereby name him
Lord and Duke of Benningto7i.

And also on his coat of arms,
The supporters to the shield.

Shall be two batteries of cannon.
Left on Saratoga's field — *

103

This is about as keen and delightful a piece
of satire as we have ever chanced to meet with, es-
pecially the permission of the patentors, Bute, etc., to
Burgoyne, who is here dubbed " Duke of Bennington,"
to use as supporters on his coat of arms the two bat-

«li

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104 The Bxirgoyne Ballads.

Abandoned by this famous general

In that beautiful retreat,
When his brave and splendid army

Suffered such a dire defeat

At the hands of those French bragfjarts,
Those rebels, cowards and poltroons,

Who have not a portion of the courage
Of our brave German dragoons.

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(S. II

So, after mature consideration
We have made this matter plain.

Nor should this displease Count Turpin,*
Whom one of us provoked in vain.f

Under our Sires' great waxen seal,
We hereby confirm the brevet

Of the great John Burgoyne,
Duke, Peer and even Baronet.

Signed. — Bute, North, Germaine,
Thirtieth of January — very late —

Just before midnight

Seventeen hundred and seventy-eight.

teries of cannon captured by the Americans at Sara-
toga. These bronze cannon, by the way, have, by an act
of Congress, lately been loaned to the trustees of the
Saratoga Monument, to be placed at the base of the
monument.

* The famous highwayman.

f The point of this allusion is not plain. However
this is the literal translation.

The Bnrgoyne Ballads.

105

Part of an old Song sung by the Wagoners
OF Gates's Army for many years after the
Battles of Saratoga. From Dr. Dwight's
" Northern Traveller."*^

That the great Mount Defiance

They soon would fortify : —
We found that we must quit our lines,

Or ev'ry man must die.

Which soon we did in haste perform,

And went to Sarritoag,
A burning all the buildings

We found along the road.

'Twas then the gen'rous thought inspir'd

The noble Gates's mind,
For to send out Gin'ral Arnold,

To see if he could find

A passage through the inimy,
Wherever he might be ;

Which soon he did accomplish,
And set the country free.

Dr. Dwight tells us that once, while travelling bv
stage from Caldwell to Ticonderoga, he heard the
driver, an old wagoner in Gates's army, sing the above
song, these four verses being all that Dr. Dwight
remembered. These verses are, however, but an
adulterated form of the ballad on "The North
Campaign," elsewhere given.

106

The Burgoyne Ballads.

«!i:iK

THE RESTORED CAPTIVE.

(^An incident of the Burgoyne Campaign^

By Colonel William L. Stone*

In yonder sylvan dale,
The hills and woods among,

Bright as the fairest vale
The poets e'er have sung,

* William Leete Stone, a distinguished American
journalist and author, was born at New Paltz, Ulster
County, N. Y., April 20th, 1792, and died at Saratoga
Springs, N. Y., August 15th, 1844. His wife was a sis-
ter of President Wayland, of Brown University, and a
daughter of the Rev. Francis Wayland, the pioneer
minister of the Baptist Church at Saratoga Springs.
When a child, his father removed into the valley of the
Susquehanna, and subsequently to Sodus, N. Y., on the
shore of Lake Ontario. The son received from the
father thorough instruction in Latin and Greek — the
latter having himself graduated with high honor at Yale
— and at the age of seventeen entered the newspaper
office of Colonel Prentiss, at Cooperstown, N. Y., to
learn the printer's trade, and soon began to write
newspaper paragraphs. In 18 13 he became the editor
of the Herkimer American, subsequently editing po-
litical newspapers at Hudson, Albany and Hartford
— in the latter town succeeding Theodore Dwight
in the editorship of the Hartford Mii'ror. In the
spring of 1 82 1 he became editor and one of the propri-
etors of the New York Commercial Advertiser, which
position he retained until his death. Though possessing
decided ability as a political writer, " Colonel" Stone

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Where Hudson's silver tide

Adorns the fairy scene,
Rejoicing in his pride,

*M id groves forever green ;
There, dark as clouds of night,

The lurking savage came,
With hatchet burnished bright.

And torch of lurid flame ;
To wake with horrid yell

The hamlet's sweet repose
By deeds no tongue can tell.

The deeds of savage foes !

107

(as he was always called, from having held that rank
on the military staff of his intimate personal and po-
litical friend, Governor De Witt Clinton) preferred
literary pursuits to partisanship. In 1825 he was ap-
pointed by the corporation of New York City to
write "The Narrative of the Grand Erie Canal Cele-
bration." His short stories, written for the differ-
ent annuals of the United States and England, were
subsequently collected and published in two volumes,
under the title of " Tales and Sketches." " Ups and
Downs in the Life of a Distressed Gentleman"
(1836), a satirical novel on the follies of the day,
was very successful. Among his more elaborate
works were: "Letters on Masonry and Anti-Ma-
sonry" (New York, 1832), " Border Wars of the Am-
erican Revolution" (2 vols., 1834), " Matthias and
his Impostures" (1835), "The Life of Maria Monk"
(1832), "The Life of Joseph Brant, Thayendanegea"
(2 vols., Cooperstown, 1838), " Life and Times of Red
Jacket" (New York, 1840), "The Poetry and History
of Wyoming" (Wiley & Putnam, 1840), and " Uncas
and Miantonomah" (1842). He was the first super-

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108 The JStirgoyne Ballads.

II.

The war-whoop, shrill and wild,

Through darkest gloom was heard ;
The mother clasped her child,*

The father grasped his sword ;
But ere the morning's dawn,

The cruel work was o'er :
The dusky foe was gone.

The vale was steep'd in gore.
The dying and the dead.

Were strew'd along the plain.
And fewer those who fled.

Than those among the slain ;
And loud the plaintive cry.

Broke on the saddened ear,
With many a heaving sigh.

And many a scalding tear.

intendent of public schools of the city of New
York, and his great controversy with Archbishop
Hughes, in regard to the reading of the Bible in
the public schools of that city, will long be remem-
bered, the last letter to whom, occupying six col-
umns in the Commercial Advertiser, was written by
him, by dictation, on his death-bed but a week before
his decease. At the time of his death he was engaged
upon a life of Sir William Johnson, which was com-
pleted by his son, William L. Stone, Jr. The above
MS., written about 1S19, was found by his son among
his unpublished ms. after his death.

* In this connection the reader is referred to the
alto rilievo in the Saratoga Monument at Schuylerville,
N. Y., " Burgoyne reprimanding the Indians for their
barbarities," for the picture of the mother holding her
babe to her breast — on which this ballad is founded.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

109

III.

With throbbing bosoms there,

Amid the field of blood,
Engaged in silent prayer.

Full many a woman stood,
With swimming eyes, disturb'd,

Transfixed as by a spell,
The maiden smote her breast,

With grief she could not tell.
A mother, there was one,

A widow — and she wept
Her darling infant son.

That in the cradle slept :
The babe, the eve before.

Had sweetly sunk to rest,
Alas ! to smile no more

Upon a mother's breast.

IV.

But see ! what form is there

Thus bounding from the wood,
Like panther from his lair,

Back on the trail of blood :
A chieftain by his mien,

Of noble form is he ;
A prouder ne'er was seen,

In chase o'er dell and lea.
Swift as the arrow's flight.

He speeds his course along,
With eye of burning light.

To reach the weeping throng.
And o'er his eagle crest,

A banner white he waves,

110

TIlb Burgoyne Ballads.

As though to make request
Of good intent he craves.

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' i

Wrapped in his blanket warm,

Loose o'er his shoulder flung,
Yet guarded safe from harm,

A lovely infant hung.
On, on with breathless strife.
The warrior held his way.
Quick at the mother's side.
Her own lost infant lay !
The babe look'd up and smiled
And sweet the thrill of joy,
As now with transports wild, '
She clasped her darling boy ;
While rapid as the light,

The warrior leaped the flood,
Sprang swiftly from their sight,
And vanished in the wood!

Some reader may recall a similar line in "The
bnow Storm," by, I believe, Hawthorne: "The babe
looked up and sweetly smiled." But as this ballad
was written by Colonel Stone when Hawthorne was a
mere lad, no one will suspect plagiarism.

i- j

BALLADS ON THE DEATH OF GENERAL FRASER.

THE DEATH AND BURIAL OF GENERAL

FRASER.

fr.^?^ }W of explanation of the many allusions in the

folloNving ballads, a short sketch of General Eraser and

rLe'''""'''^"''^' of his burial may not be inappro-

Simon Eraser British soldier, born in 1729 ; died in
Saratoga, N. Y October 8th, 1777. He was tie
youngest son of Alexander Fraser, of Baluaire and
Glendo, of the Lovat family, by a daughter of Ano-us
Mackmtosh of Kellady, from whom "the celebrated
Sir James Mackmtosh was directly descended. He
entered the army at an early age, and after several
promotions became lieutenant-colonel July 14th 1768
He served with distinction in Holland and Germany*
was in the expedition against Louisburg, and accom-
panied General Wolfe to Quebec. He was afterward
stationed in Ireland, whence he embarked for America
^vlth the Twenty-fourth Regiment, April 5th, 1776. ar-
nving at Quebec May 2Sth of that year. He assisted
m driving the Americans out of Canada in 1776 and
was in command of the severely contested engage-
ment at Three Rivers. Having acquired a high repu-
tation for judgment and cool daring, he was selected
by Burgoyne to command the light brigade, which
formed the right wing of the British army He thus

.11

112

The Burgoyne Ballads.

was constantly in the advance, rendering most efficient
service ; and had his advice been followed, the blunder
of advancing on Bennington with heavily mounted
dragoons, on an expedition requiring the greatest
celerity of movement, would never have been com-
mitted. After the evacuation of Ticonderoga he pur-
sued the retreating Americans under St. Clair, and,
assisted by his German ally, General Riedesel, gained
a signal victory at Hubbardton, July 7th, 1777. He
opened the battle of September 19th by engaging
Morgan's skirmishers ; and in the action of October
7th was shot and mortally wounded by "Tim" Mur-
phy, one of Morgan's riflemen, in obedience to special
instructions from that officer.'* During the succeed-
ing night he was tenderly ministered to by the Baro-
ness Riedesel, who did all in her power to alleviate his
sufferings, and at eight o'clock on the following morn-
ing he died. As he lay dying he was heard frequently
to exclaim : " Oh, fatal ambition ! Oh, my poor wife !
Oh, poor General Burgoyne !" He was buried at sun-
set, according to his special request, on a knoll over-
looking the Hudson River, on which was a battery,
Chaplain Brudenell officiating. His remains were at-
tended to the grave at six o'clock in the evening by
the general officers ; and the funeral scene is described
by Burgoyne, in his " State of the Expedition," and
by other contemporaneous writers, as unusually sol-
emn, impressive, and awful, by the voice of the chap-
lain being accompanied by constant peals from the
American artillery, and the cannon-shot which flew
thick around and near the funeral cortege as it was
ascending the hill. This fire, however, ceased imme-

* For an original sketch of Murphy, see Appendix

No. IV.

The Burgiyyne Ballads.

113

diately as soon as the nature of the gathering was
known.

To Burgoyne the loss of Fraser was a severe blow ;
and contemporary military writers afifirm that, had he
lived, the British would have made good their retreat
into Canada. Certain it is that had Fraser lived to
give his advice to Burgoyne — and it would undoubt-
edly have been taken — the latter would have avoided
the blunders he made, which was the cause of his sur-
render. Riedesel, it is true, advised the same course
which Fraser would have done had he lived. But ad-
vice from Riedesel — whom, as a German ally, Bur-
goyne never liked — would have been a very different
thing from Burgoyne's loved friend, Fraser.

It was said of Fraser that he had always shown as
great skill in conducting a retreat as bravery in lead-
ing an attack, having, during the Seven Years' War,
brought off in safety five hundred chasseurs in sight of
the French army. General Fraser's temperament was
warm, open, and communicative, but reserved in mat-
ters of confidence. Burgoyne paid him a touching
tribute in his " Narrative," and in his report to Lord
George Germaine, dated Albany, October 20th, i'//,
said : " The extensive merits which marked the public
and private character of Brigadier-General Fraser will
long remain upon the memory of this army and make
his loss a subject of particular regret." Fraser mar-
ried, in 1769, Mrs. Grant, of London, who survived
him, and who, in 1 781,. married at Edinburgh an ad-
vocate named George Buchan Hepburn. The state-
ment that the remains of General Fraser were removed
to England after the Revolution is without foundation.
For more about Fraser, see Stone's " Burgoyne's Cam-
paign" and General Rope's " Hadden's Journal," both
published by Munsell's Sons, Albany, N. Y. In " Bur-

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

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goynes Campaign" will be found an interesting ac-
count of the death of Fraser, with reflections on that
event, written by Professer Lilliman during the night
he stopped in the house where Fraser died.

THE BURIAL OF GEN. FRASER.

Read before the Annual Meeting of the Sara-
toga Monument Association, 1874, by
E. W. B. Canning, Esq.

On Saratoga's crimsoned field,

When battle's volleyed roar was done,
Mild autumn's mellow light revealed

The glories of the setting sun.
On furrow, fence and tree that bear

The iron marks of battling men,
The radiance burneth calm and fair.

As tho' earth aye had sinless been.
The gory sods, all scathed and scarred,

And piled in trenched mounds declare
That mutual foeman, fallen, marred,

Have found a final bivouac there.
And list ! from yonder bulwarked height

The faint-heard martial signals come:
For those who keep the watch to-night

Are gathering at the evening drum.

So, Saratoga, lay thy field

When freedom, 'mid the shock of steel,
Made Britain's rampant lion yield.

And crushed his terrors 'neath her heel.
Proudly the freeman points to thee.

And speaks thy unforgotten name ;

The Burgoyne Ballads.

While on her page bright history

For children's children writes thy fame.

As the last sunbeam kissed the trees

That sighed amid its dying glow,
Borne softly on the evening breeze
Floated the soldier's note of woe
F^o"} out the Briton's guarded lines,
iiruM*^^ wailing fife and muffled drum,
While gleaming gold with scariet shines,
JS "^"^ of mourning warriors come.
With arms reversed, all sad and slow,

And measured tread of martial men,
Forth on their lengthened path they go.

But not to wake the strife again
No plunging haste of battles there,*

No serried ranks or bristling lines ;
No furious coursers headlong bear

Their riders where the death flash shines.
1 he pennon is the soldiers' pall, ••

The battery for the bier is changed
And plumes of nodding sable all

On chieftains' brows are round it ranged.
1 he noblest leader of the host

They carry to his dreamless sleep •
The heart of British hope is lost.

And vain the tears that Britons weep.
Thine arm of valor, proud Burgoyne,

Is paralyzed for ever now ;
While sorrow-stricken comrades join
Fondly to wreathe dead Fraser's brow.

On yonder hill that skirts the plain,
A lone redoubt with haste upraised

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116 27i4 Burgoyne Ballads.

O'erlooks around the trampled grain,

Where oft the dying hero gazed.
" Bury me there at set of sun,"

(His latest words of ebbing life)
"'Tis mine to see no triumph won.

Or mingle with the final strife.
If gloom awaits our path of fame,

I die before the ill befalls ;
These ears shall tingle not with shame,

Nor longer list when glory calls.
At set of sun, in yon redoubt,

Lay me to rest as rest the brave."
The flickering lamp of life went out.

And strangers' land must yield a grave.

Slowly in mournful march they wend

Their upward pathway to the tomb;
Unwittingly the foemen send

Their shots around amid the gloom.*
They reach the height, commit their trust.

And reverent all uncovered stand ;
While booming shots updash the dust

In clouds about the listening band.
Robed and with dignity serene'

The man of God reads calmly on ;

( ■

'^',

This refers to the shots which were at first sent
by the Americans at the funeral cortege which was
ascending the hill to bury General Fraser. Although
it has often been explained that the Americans, as
soon as they ascertained that the procession was to the
funeral of Fraser, ceased at once to fire on the party,
yet by prejudiced English historians this fiction has
still been kept up. See preceding note.

The Burgoyne Ballads,

No terror marks his quiet mien,

^ As hoarse responds the distant ^un.

" Earth to earth and dust to dust:"

Thus the solemn accents fall ;
Each receives her precious trust',

Evening saddens over all.
Pile the mound ; no living form

Nobler soul enshrines than he,
Now bequeathed the darkling worm—

Pride of Albion's chivalry !
All is done : there wait for thee.

Fallen chief, no more alarms ;'
But thy peers anon must see

Hapless " field of grounded arms."

* * * * #

Years have trolled their changes by •
Harvests oft have robed the plain '•
And the leafy honors high

Sigh no more above the slain.
Sons of sires who in the black,

Doleful days of '77
Rolled the tide of battle back.

Seeking hope and strength in Heaven
Wondering tread the storied ground,

And with glowing accents tell
How their fathers victory found.

And the spot where Eraser fell.
Gallant chieftain, nobler song

Ought to speak thy honored name •
But our sons remembering long,

Worthier tribute pay thy fame !

117

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fill',.

^^^ ^^e Burg(yyne Ballads.

THE BURIAL OF GENERAL ERASER.

At Sunset, October 8, 1777.
By E. W. B. Canning.

[Dedicated to the trustees of the Saratoga Monument association.]

There was mourning at the eventide tiiat sad October

^^'
There was mourning in the camp wherein the hosts of
Britam lay ;

For the sun that glanced so proudly on their bayonets
at dawn ^

Behind the ling'ring battle clouds of rout and wreck
had gone.

As the stern sergeant's tones, amid the day's decline
Called the thmned muster roll along the martial line

when"' ''^'"'' ^'"' '"''' "*' • ^'''' ^^"^"""^ '

A comrade's name was spoken who should answer
not agam !

But deeper gloom than wont befell when battle's
crash was o'er,

For he who led the foremost ranks should lead them
nevermore —

The leader round whose knightly brows the oak and
laurel jom —

The bravest chieftain of the brave-the right arm of
Burgoyne. **

" Bury me^-said the hero, as the spark of life went

" At sunset, vvhere your banner waves above the
Great Redoubt ;

(

The Burgoyne Ballads. 119

Believe my soul is with you yet, and be my memory
^tUl cherished m your valiant hearts whate'cr the end
may be."

^"^ ^ V^h ^^^^^ glo^'iming went a sad procession

With solemn step and muffled drums and thouirhts of

fallen worth,
While foeman's guns, unwittingly, upon the hills afar
Roared out, amid the gathering gloom, the thunder

tones of war.

And as the mournful multitude the yawnincr trrave
surround, ^ ^

Fiercely the iron messengers updash the sodded
ground :

But not a coward cheek was blanched ; no hurried

word was said
Of service due the holy man rehearsed above the dead.

So laid they gallant Fraser in his chosen place to rest
And warriors' tears bedewed the sod that hid his

manly breast.
Peace to the ashes of the brave ! For him no more

alarms,

No grief, anon, of comrades on " The Field of Grounded
Arms."

THE BURIAL OF GENERAL FRASER.
By Lura a. Boies.*
He fell, the bold hero! low lay the proud form
That braved the red wrath of the battle's wild storm,

^ */t"f ^l ^^'^S' daughter of Jerome and Hannah
Li. (Gillette) Boies, was born in the town of Moreau,

120

The Burgoyne Ballads.

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When dark hung the cloud of the furious fray
O'er the fell hights of Bemis, they bore him away.

He spoke, and his heart for a moment beat high,
Tiie fire of his spirit flashed forth from his eye,
"When the terrible voice of the conflict is still,
Lay me down in the sunset to rest on the hill."

They saw the fierce gleam of the battle light fade,
And faint grew the roar of the fell cannonade,
When the wing of the night fluttered down o'er the

west,
They laid the brave warrior away to his rest.

Proud day, Columbia, for thee.

When upward soared thine eagle free!

Proud day, when from the hills of strife

The sullen war cloud rolled away,
And Triumph waved her peaceful wing ,

Above the fell and fatal fray.
Glad millions shouted then " 'tis done !"

Saratoga County, N. '/., on May 2d, 1835. Like the
Davidson sisters (Lucretia and Margaret Miller), she
at a very early age developed precocious intellectual
abilities "which her pen shaped from * airy nothings'
and formed 'a local habitation and a name.'" Devoting
the leisure hours of a busy life to literary pursuits,
she, while yet in mere girlhood, accumulated the
materials for a graceful volume of poems, which, after
her death, through the indefatigable efforts of the late
Judge Hay, of Saratoga Springs, were published under
the title of " Rural Rhymes." She died April 15th,
1859, and is buried near her heroine, Jane McCrea,
in the Union Cemetery between Fort Edward and
Sandy Hill.

I ■

The Buvgoyne Ballads. 121

And high hearts hailed the victory won,

And clear the exulting strain,
In one loud peal of lofty song,

Went o'er the heaving main.

Oh, there was grief and anguish then
In the bowed hearts of Albion's men,
And dark as night the wing of woe.
Brooded above the vanquished foe !
Not as when girded for the strife,
In the full flush of daring life.

With glowing hopes all vain,
Through the dim silence, hushed and still.
At sunset up the chosen hill.

Wound the slow funeral uain.
Oh, not as marshaled for the held.
With burnished lance and gleaming shield,

And scarlet banners flame.
That stricken band of warriors brave

To the lone burial came ;
Nor yet, with death-Hag's ebon wave

And sound of muRlod drum.
As conquering heroes to the grave

Of martial glory rome.
No plaintive dirge rose on the air,
No sable plumes drooped darkly there.
But with hushed hearts and mournful tread
They bore away their gallant dead.

More awful than the battle's roll
The gloom that bowed each haughty soul.
And wilder was the storm within
Than the fierce conflict's raging din.

Where he, the hero, fell,
'Mid clash of arms and ring of steel,
And brazen trumpet's clarion peal,

And noise of bursting shell.

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122 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Hark ! from the hills a sudden sound
Trembles along the startled ground,

And slowly dies away —
'Tis from the bosom of the free,
The mighty heart of victory
Throbs in that solemn, mourning gun,
And thus to Albion's fallen son

The brave their tribute pay.

'Tis beautiful, when those who met
In dire and dreadful strife, forget

Their hatred, dark and deep ;
And when the tide of life swells high,
Lay all their full rejoicing by.

To weep with those who weep !

Oh, grateful in that hour of woe
To those whose light had fled.

The homage of the conquering foe,
To him their noble dead !

And many a stern heart's mute despair,
Was m.elted into softness there.

And hot tears fell like rain.
O'er the bold soldier's coffined form,

The gallant Fraser slain !

The night came down in silence grand

Above the hero's grave ;
They turned away that mournful band —

They left the sleeping brave
Far from his own, his native land.

Beyond the deep blue wave,
And cloud and storm and gathering 2,loom,
Were mourners at the warrior's tomb !

'Twas the wild eve of that dread day
When Albion's haughty standard fell.

mmm

mmmmm

mmm.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

123

Red lightnings flashed above the slain,
And thunders tolled a fearful knell.

The dying wail, the hollow groan

Blent strangely with the hoarse wind's moan

And darkly o'er the fatal Flights
Where cold the ghastly fallen slept,

Black clouds hung like a sable pall.
And sad the pitying heavens wept.

Out in the deep night's starless gloom.

Like a white angel in the storm,
Moved by her pure heart's deathless love,

Stole woman's frail and tender form.
Above her burst the tempest's wrath,
And shadows gathered o'er her path,'
And yet the hurtling, shrieking blast

Swept all unheeded by ;
For colder than the blinding rain.
The weary weight of grief and pain,

That on her soul did lie.
With falling tears her face grew damp,
A mist came o'er her clear blue eye';
Her love, her light, her spirit's pride.
He whose low voice had called her, bride,
Bound bleeding in the foeman's camp,

Had laid him down to die.
Oh, stronger in that awful hour.
And mightier than the strife.
He tried affection's holy power.
That lofty inspiration gave,
And nerved with courage, calm and brave.

The true, high-hearted wife !
She in her fearless faith would seek

The proud, victorious foe,
The chilling grief that blanched her cheek,

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124 The Burgoyne Ballads.

To the stern hearts of men should speak :
The strong should bow before the weak,

And pity her wild woe.
Her love the stricken one should bless,
Her lips the brow of pain shouH press,
By all her soul's deep tendernf ,

She to her lord would go !

Down by the surging river's shore.

Lashed by the foaming spray.
With spreading sail and waiting oar,

The frail boat ready lay —
And thither with light step and fleet,
Her fond heart winging her fast feet,

The brave wife bent her way.
A moment's pause, a brief space o'er.
And swift the light, careering barque,
Launched out upon the waters dark,
And closer round her shivering form.
Fell the cold mantle of the storm.

Oh, strengthened by the holy flame.

That glows within her breast,
And nerves with power her gentle frame,
When clouds come o'er her heaven fair,
What will not woman do and dare
For those her love hath blest !

•

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THE BURIAL OF GEN. ERASER.

From Theodore Dwight's *' Northern Traveller."*

The warrior sleeps, he wakes no more,
At glory's voice of chivalry ;

* Theodore Dwight, author and editor, was born

(A
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The Burgoyne Ballads. 125

His part amid the strife is o'er
He starts not at the cannon's roar,
Nor rolling drum, nor musketry.

in Hartford, Conn., March 3d, 1796. In 1833, ^^ ^^-
moved to Brooklyn, N. Y., and engaged in various
public and philanthropic enterprises, becoming a direct-
or in numerous religious and educational societies. In
1854-8 he, with George Walker, was active in a
systematic effort to send free-soil settlers to Kansas ;
and it is estimated that 9000 persons were induced by
them to go to that State. He was at different times
engaged in an editorial capacity on several newspapers
and magazines, and he was at one time chief editor
and publisher of tlie New York Presbyterian. He
published a number of works, one of which was " The
Northern Traveller," from which the above verses are
taken. He was a grandson of the Rev. Dr. Timothy,
who served in the army of General Gates in Parsons'
Brigade of the Connecticut line, and who, a few days
before the battles of Saratoga, preached from the text :
" / will remove far from me the Northc7'n armyl'
At the time of his death Mr. Dwight was translating
educational works into Spanish, for introduction into
Spanish-American countries. He was an exceedingly
active man, bearing his age wonderfully well. Indeed,
this very activity was the direct cause of his death,
which occurred in 1866. Shortly before his decease
he called on me at the Journal of Commerce, of
which paper I was then city editor, and coming up to
the fifth floor — it was before the days of elevators —
he fairly bounded into my room, exclaiming: "Mr.
Stone, I have run up your stairs as easily and with no
more effort than as if I were a boy again !" Some
four days later, while attempting to board a Pennsyl-

sassx

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126 The Burgoyne Ballads.

II.

No more the soldier leads the band

Of Britain's warlike infantry,
They hear no more his stern command
Nor gleams his sword, nor waves his hand
Urging to death or victory !

III.

The rifle lays the chieftain low
By Morgan aimed so fatally.
He falls where streams of life blood flow,
Where comrades 'neath the deadly blow
Have fallen wounded mortally.

IV.

So " Glory leads but to the grave"

Such was the soldier's destiny
To meet his doom he crossed the wave,
His life-blood flowed, his deeds so brave,
Were given for chains and slavery.

In evening shadows sinks the sun,

And life departs thus mournfully,
Its brightness facfes in shade .vs dun,
And so the hero's course was run,
And ended thus in tragedy.

vania Railroad train in motion — relying upon this
same activity — he was thrown under the wheels and
instantly killed !

'.N

The Bxmjoyne Ballads.

VI.

His lifeless form is borne on hi^h
,,.[" solemn martial pageantry '
While threat'ning clouds obscure the sky
And fires of death are flashing nigh
And roar of dread artillery

127

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BALLiiDS ON THE DEATH OF JANE McCREA.

SKKTr j{( OF JANE McCREA.

There have ■ leer 50 many ditfcrent versions of the
tragic d«''ath of Jane >'cC''ea put forth, both at the
time ot the occvrrence 0: > since, that it seems only
proper to give, as .1 prtuucr •• ^h^ numerous poems
and ballads on this subject, the true version as gath-
ered by myself after much research.

Jane McCrea was born in Bed minster (now Lam-
ington), N. J., in 1753, and was killed near Fort Ed-
v.'ard, N. Y., July 27th, 1777. She was the second
daughter of Rev. James McCrea, a Presbyterian
clergyman of Scotch descent, whose father, William,
was an elder in White Clay Creek Church, near New-
ark, Del. After his death she made her home with
her brother John at Fort Edward, N. Y.* It is safe to

* John McCrea, the brother of Jane, was a patriot.
He had been with the unfortunate expedition of
General Montgomery and fought in the battle of
Quebec ; and when General Schuyler, in command at
F"ort Edward, called on the militia to take the field.

J
SI-

The Burgoyne Ballads.

129

say that no event, either in ancient or modern warfare,
has received more versions than that of her death. It
has been commemorated in story and in song, and
narrated in grave histories in as many different ways
as there have been writers on the subject. The facts
appear to be as follows:

David Jones, her lover, an officer in Burgoyne's
army, then lying four miles from Fort Edward, sent
a party of Indians, under Duluth, a half-breed, to es-
cort his betrothed to the British camp, where they were
to be at once married by Chaplain Brudenell,* Lady

he promptly obeyed the summons. Between him and
David Jones there had arisen an estrangement, grow-
ing out of their opposite sympathies in relation to the
war. But Jane still clung to her betrothed, notwith-
standing her brother's dislike for him.

* There is also much probability that Jane received
communications from her lover at intervals, especially
after the British army left Skenesborough. The fol-
16wing original letter from Jones to Jenny bears out
this view :

'•Skenesboro', July ii, 1777.

''Dear Friend : I have ye opportunity to send you
this by William Bamsy, hoping through Freel it will
come safe to hand. Since last writing, Ty has been
taken, and we have had a battle, which no doubt you
have been informed of before this. Through God's
mercy I escaped destruction, and am now well at this
place, for which thanks be to Him. The rebels cannot
recover from the blow yt has been struck, and no doubt
the war will soon end. Such should be the prayer of
all of us. Dear Jenny, I do not forget you, though

130

llie Btirgoyne Ballads.

Harriet Acland* and Madame Riedesel (the wife of
General Riedesel, in command of the Brunswick con-
tingent) having good-naturedly consented to grace the
nuptials by their presence. Duluth, having arrived
within aquarterofamileofthe house of a Mrs. McNeil,
a cousin of General Fraser (where Jane was waiting),
halted in the woods until he should be joined by her by
preconcerted arrangement. Meanwhile, another body
of Indians from the British camp, under Le Loup, a
fierce Wyandotte chief, returning from a marauding

f - *

much there is to distract in these days, and hope I am
remembered by you as formerly. In a few days we
will march to Ft. Edward, for which I am anxious,
where I shall have the happiness to meet you, after
long absence. I hear from Isaac Vaughn, who has
just come in, that the people on the river are moving
to Albany. I hope if your brother John goes, you
will not go with him, but stay at Mrs. McNeil's, to
whom and Miss Hunter give my dutiful respects.
There I will join you. My dear Jenny, these are sacl
times, but I think the war will end this year, as the
rebels cannot hold out, and will see their error. By
the blessing of Providence I trust we shall yet pass
many years together in peace. Shall write on every
occasion that offers, and hope to find you at Mrs.
McNeil's. No more at present; but believe me yours
affectionately till death.

David Jones."
* For a sketch of Lady Acland, explaining the fab-
ulous account of her marriage with Parson Brudenell,
etc.see Appendix No. V. I do not give one of Madame
Riedesel, as that is found in my " Memoirs of General
and Madame Riedesel," Munsell's Sons, Albany, N. Y.

•i

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131

expedition in the vicinity, drove in a scout of Ameri-
cans, and stopping, on their return, at Mrs. McNeil's,
took her and Jane captive, with the intention of
bringing them into the British camp. On their way
back they encountered Duluth's party, when the half-
breed claimed Jane as being under his protection.
Le Loup being unwilling to surrender his prisoner —
himself wishing the honor of being her escort — high
words ensued between the two leaders, when Le Loup,,
enraged at being opposed, in a fit of violent passion,
shot her through the heart. Then, having scalped his
victim, he carried the reeking scalp into the British
camp, where it was immediately recognized, by its long
and beautiful tresses, by Mrs. McNeil, who, having
been separated from Jane before the catastrophe, had
arrived at Burgoyne's headquarters a little in advance.
The next day her mangled body was conveyed by her
brother. Colonel John McCrea, to the camp-ground of
the fort, and there buried. Her lover, David Jones,
it is said, never recovered from the shock thus received.
He soon after resigned and left the army, and after
many years of melancholy died unmarried.

Miss McCrea is described by those who knew her
personally as a young woman of rare accomplishments,
great personal attractions, and of a remarkable sweet-
ness of disposition. She was of medium stature, finely
formed, and of a delicate blonde complexion. Her
hair was of a golden brown and silken lustre, and, when
unbound, trailed upon the ground. Her father was
devoted to literary pursuits, and she thus had acquired
a taste for reading unusual in one of her age in those
early times.

The tragic death of Jane McCrea was to the people
of New York what the battle of Lexington was to the

New England colonies. In each

case the

effect was

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to consolidate the inhabitants more firmly against the
invaders. The blood of the unfortunate maiden was
not shed in vain. Her name was passed as a note of
alarm along the banks of the Hudson, and, as a rally-
ing cry among the Green Mountains of Vermont,
brought down to the army of Gates her hardy sons.
It thus contributed in no slight degree to Burgoyne's
defeat, which became a precursor and principal cause
of American independence. Descendants of the Mc-
Crea family are still (1893) living at Ballston, N. Y.,
and in other parts of the State of New York, and also
in Newport, R. I.

At the time of her death, her mangled and disfigured
body was conveyed by her brother, Colonel John Mc-
Crea, and sympathizing friends to Moses Kill, where a
fortified camp-ground, laid out by the celebrated Polish
engineer Kosciusko, was then occupied by the rear
guard of the American army, under the command of
General Arnold. Here, after some preparation, her
body, together with that of the fated Van Vecten, was
committed to a common grave. On April 2 2d, 1822,
these remains were removed to the old burial-ground
near the fort, at the lower end of the village of Fort
Edward. The ceremonial was attended with unusual
pomp and display for those early days — the celebrated
and afterward unfortunate Hooper Cummings, of Al-
bany, preaching upon that occasion from Micah 2 : 10
so impressive and pathetic a sermon that many of
his audience were convulsed with sobs and weep-
ing.

The remains of Miss McCrea were, in 1852, again
removed to the Union Cemetery between Fort Ed-
ward and Sandy Hill, the McCrea lot being near the
main entrance. The marble slab which marks the spot
bears the following inscription :

:-i^-_rrr.rTjr-:i. ,

T/ie jBurgoyne Ballads.

133

HERE REST THE REMAINS OF

JANE McCREA

AGED 17

MADE CAPTIVE AND MURDERED

BY A BAND OF INDIANS

WHILE ON A VISIT TO A RELATIVE IN

THIS NEIGHBORHOOD

A.D. 1777
TO COMMEMORATE
ONE OF THE MOST THRILLING INCIDENTS
IN THE ANNALS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION

TO DO JUSTICE TO THE FAME OF THE GALLANT

BRITISH OFFICER TO WHOM SHE WAS AFFIANCED

AND AS A SIMPLE TRIBUTE TO THE

MEMORY OF THE DEPARTED

THIS STONE IS ERECTED

BY HER NIECE

SARAH HANNA PAYNE

A.D. 1852.

"There is at present" (1893), writes to me Mrs.
Charles Stone, of Sandy Hill, who, with most praise-
worthy zeal, has taken a deep interest in the matter
" a cham fence with stone posts around the lot. The
marble slab bears the coat-of-arms of the relic-hunter '
bemg nicked at every point, except possibly beneath
the soil. The whole has the appearance of jrreat
neglect. There is, however, a fund now being raised
to put It in much better condition. The public schools
of Sandy Hill and Glens Falls have sent penny do-
nations, and Fort E. has promised to do likewise
It is the intention of the trustees of the cemetery to
have the improvements made this spring. Thev \vish
to erect a substantial fence, ornamental, of iron,'but to
be kept impenetrable from the chisel of the relic-

134

The Burgoyne Ballads.

hunter. Referring again to the fund, several of our
citizens have given ; others are only waiting to
be called upon. Ex-Mayor Henry Bedlow, of New-
port, on learning the facts and of the fund, sent
immediately fifty dollars. Mr. Bedlow has among
his family deeds those of the McCreas, Jane having
been his great-aunt. The treasurer of the Union Cem-
etery is Ashiel Irving, cashier of the First National
Bank of Fort Edward, and he will take pleasure in
receiving contributions toward this end. In short,
Jane McCrea's romantic and tragic death is of national
importance, and means should be taken to let the
public know of the fund now being raised. A certain
portion of the fund will be kept in trust continually to
improve, adorn, and keep in order the lot."*

To A.

THE EPISODE OF JANE McCREA.

(Samuel Standish narrator).

By Rev. O. C. AuRiNCER.f

W. Ilolden, A.M., M.D., Scholar, Physician, and Friend, this
poem is gratefully dedicated.

Part I.

We left the camp behind us locked in sleep,
And marched with silent footsteps to the plain.

* For an account of the latter days of Lieutenant
David Jones, her betrothed, see Appendix No. V^I.

f Obadiah Cyrus Auringer, one of the most brilliant
of the later-day exponents of the poetry of nature
and nature's God, a most clever sonneteer and a
writer of the sweetest, most taking, and elevating
verse, was born in Glens Falls, Warren County, N.Y.,

The Burgoyne Ballads. 135

We paused a moment at the sentry's hail,

And answering passed on. Quitting the road —

June 4th, 1849, o^ German-French parents. He
was educated in the local schools, studied litera-
ture and science for several years under various tutors,
and hegan contributing articles in prose and verse to
New York papers at the age of eighteen. Since then
his name has become well known to readers of peri-
odical literature, and his poems have been considered
worthy of place in such standard works as Stedman
& Hutchinson's " Library of American Literature,"
Sharp's "American Sonnets" (London), Crandall's
'* Representative Sonnets" and Higginson & Big-
elow s " American Sonnets," as well as many other
collections of high standing and similar nature. He
entered the United States Navy at the age of twenty-
two, and for three years was attached to the " Worces-
ter" on the West Indian station, where he studied life
in the tropics, and contributed to journals North and
South. He >;ft the navy in the summer of 1875, and
spent several subsequent years on the family estate on
Glen Lake, Warren County — as he says, " cultivating
strawberries and poetry with considerable success."
He was married in 1875 to Mrs. Eva Hendry x.
While at Glen Lake he issued two volumes of poetry,
contributed to leading papers and magazines, and
began the study of theology, preparatory to entering
the ministry. He was ordained in 1890 as a minister
in the Presbyterian church. He removed to North-
wood, N. Y., where he published another volume
of verse. He was successful in his chosen profession,
built up the church, and was, in 1893, called to the
Third Presbyterian church of Troy, N. Y., over which
he is now pastor. Mr. Auringer has published the fol-

136

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The broad way from the fortress leading north —
We fell in file along a narrow path
That lay across the plain and river marsh,
O'ertopped a bluff by shaggy growths o'erspread,
And crowned with pines and silence, leading thence
Still on amid the wildwood's tangled glooms,
Straight toward an ancient blockhouse on the hill.
There lay the posts we were to seize and keep
'Gainst scout or foray from the British line,
Encamped upon the high plains to the north.

Eighteen good men we were, armed woodman-like
With musket, knife and hatchet, every man
A chosen soldier seasoned in the wars —
Sons of the sword, all eager for the work, —
Led by a dark lieutenant, silent, stern.
Yet true as steel and loved by every man —
The trustiest in the camp.

Without a word
We moved in line along the narrow path.
Crossed the flat plain, crossed the low river marsh,
And steeped in moonshine and hot airs of night.
Set knees against the rough acclivity.
And gave ourselves to the wild wilderness.

lowing volumes of poetry: " Voice of a Shell," 1S83;
"Scythe and JSword," 1887; "Heart of the Golden
Roan," 1 89 1. He has now in preparation for early
publication the " Episode of Jane McCrea," a nar-
rative poem ; and a volume of minor verse. — Sketch
by J. A. HoLDEN, of Glens Falls, N. Y.

This poem was originally published in the Glens
Falls Messenger, of December, 1888, a few years before
Dr. Holden's death. A sketch of this lamented gentle-
man, by his son, J. A. Holden, will be found in Ap-
pendix No. XI.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

137

We climbed the steep ascent with guns atrail,

Picking our steps among the roots and stones

That hid along the pathway. Now and then

A musket breech would clink against a stone,

Sending a sudden thrill along the file ;

And then again some careless-falling foot

Would slip and bring a soldier to his knee,

Or send him reeling sidelong from the path.

Where he would catch and cling by branch or limb,

And sway his body back in line again,

And onward as before. Then suddenly

Some man would stop stock still along the file.

Smote in the face by some lithe hazel rod

That, carried out of place and springing back,

Stung like a whip. Then would an oath break forth,

Strangled at birth ; and followed in its turn

A laugh or joke in smothered undertones

At his expense who suffered from the blow —

Danger just seasoned by a spice of fun,

And no one made the worse, so all was still.

For we were men trained not to utter sound

Above necessity when foes were nigh

Like those that hemmed us now. Because one day

While hunting deer among the mountain glens

Round old Ticonderoga in the north.

And lying hushed and breathless with suspense,

Hid in a rocky hollow, while our foes

Drew ever closer round tlieir secret snaies,

An Irishman, o'erfull of bubbling fun

And mirth, — the wit and spirit of the camp, —

Possessed by some rash madness of the brain,

Let loose his tongue with such garrulity

That all the woods heard, and within an hour

Revealed our hiding-place, and brought the foe

Around us, roaring like a rush of wolves.

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

And in the vvildvvood battle waged that day

From tree to tree along that rugged ground,

A feathered arrow from a warrior's bow

Pierced both poor Michael's cheeks, transfixed the

tongue,
And silenced it forever.

O'er the plain
Two hills arose, abrupt and difificult
To master — one above the other piled
Like cloud on mountain, blotting out the stars
And sky-gleams on the north. And on the crown \
Of the first height lay shelved a little plot,
By jealous fairies stolen from the wilds.
Gone bare of trees, but richly carpeted
With soft green moss and silent, and it lay
Walled three sides round by netted hazelwood
Impenetrable. And there by the hill's sheer brow
Where mingled earth with rock sprang onegreat pine,
Whose black bulk carved on darkness towered in air
In rugged perpendicular, and thence
Branching, spread broad a dark green canopy,
Mysterious, o'er the moss-soft forest floor,
And down amid its roots a forest spring.
Alive and cool, broke through the leaves and moss,
Filling its shadowy basin to the brim,
And then o'erflowing, broke o'er the hill's brow,
Streaking the hillside with a vein of pearl.
This was the ancient pine, and this the spring,
And here the spot renowned in all the world,
And here we halted, breathing hard, and here.
With studied charge and order from the chief,
Low spoken in the dark, distinct and short,
I took my stand beneath the ancient pine
To watch till morning. And my friends filed on,
Vague bulks in darkness, laboring up the path,

The Burgoyne Ball-ada. 139

Across the plot, and up the next ascent,
On toward the ruined blockhouse on the hill.

A long and lonesome watch beneath that tree —

Long watch and lonesome ; wide in darkness spread

The night-lone landscape round, behind, before —

A wilderness gone dreaming, with the moon.

Stars, silent-pacing clouds and stealthy airs

Alert above it ; and below, alert.

Their fellow-guard and watchman of the night,

I, with my weapon and a lonely heart,

But unafraid, kept watch, obedient,

For our dear country's sake and liberty.

The night hung slumberous, but one must keep
His senses bound about him — no light charge.
With naught to keep him wakeful but to watch,
Just watch and wait the sluggish hours away,
And listen. And to move beyond a small
Circle well worn of safe and level ground,
To stir about and feel one's self at large —
Strictly forbid ! To make companionship
With one's own pleasant inward impulses
By singing songs, as soldiers love to do,
Or whistling to call up the merry thoughts,
To charm an idle watch — most perilous !
Our foes were wary ears, and there was cause
To fear some few red warriors from the camp
Above us lurked about the fort that night.

A soldier's mind hoards small philosophy
Among its treasures, woo it as he will ;
A life of shocks breaks up the course of thought.
And checks it midway. Contemplation, shy.
Recluse and sensitive, starts from the sound
Of war's oncoming murmur militant.

t -

140

The Burgoyne Ballads.

And 'mid the roar of his impetuous rush

Gathers her things about her daintily,

And vanishes ; — Guard ! is the soldier's watchword.

And yet he has his fancies, often sweet.

Dreams dreams, and has ambitions of his own,

Most welcome, though so oft they come to naught ;

He has his store of stirring memories

Laid up through years of strange experience,

Of camps and marches, bloody battle-fields.

Shipwrecks at sea, and perils on the shore.

Hair-breadth escapes — all memorable things

To lighten up the long hours of a watch.

All these my mind tossed o'er, then fled away,

Heart-piloted beyond the wilderness.

And visited beside the eastern sea

A humble fisher town 'twixt sands and crags

Clustered apart, a butt for bluff sea winds.

And salt-sharp storms hurled inland from the main.

There stood a house I knew of, with its door

Opening upon the wild sea waves, with sand.

And wreck, and waste of many a stormy tide

Spread near it. And I saw upon the beach

My three sweet motherless children hard at play

With all their little sea things — fairy boats

Freighted with fairy thoughts imaginative

Launched bravely from their hands, with mingled cries

Of joy and apprehension — '* See, she floats !"

" She's down ! she's gone !" " Nay, there she comes

again !
How sweetly she sails on now ! We will call
Her name the Lucky Sailor, for good luck."
And then they wave their hands and cry in the wind :
" Luck to the Lucky Sailor !" o'er the foam.

Back flashed my thought, and then forth out of earth,
Or visionary starlight, airy space,

The Burgoyne Ballads.

141

Or fairyland of beauty none knows where,

A maid's sweet face rose on my heart, distinct

With light more real than reality,

And warm as coming sunrise when far off

It lingers half reluctant. Ah, such grace !

Fairer for loveliness than eye beholds

Ever amid these desert solitudes

Forsaken of fair things ! And it appeared,

Arrayed for wonder and for loveliness,

In one long downward flood of yellow hair.

Like that which flows 'mid webs of charmed romance,

Magical tales and legends all forlorn

Imagined in old time, to net the heart.

And bear it happy captive through the tale.

Whereat my lips obedient spoke aloud

A name in the darkness with such vehemence

As made me start alarmed, and cast around

Eyes apprehensive. But the loyal night.

Kindly discreet, gave not the sound away

To alien senseless ears. It was a name

Since famous in the annals of the land

That heard it cried round its circumference.

Till it became a sign to conjure with,

A watchword and a symbol. It had power

So that a banner blazoned with that name.

And borne from town to town through the broad land,

Might by its magic gather to itself

How many a thousand gallant hearts and swords.

Fast pledged to all heroic sacrifice.

For vengeance and our land's dear liberties!

And in that name deeds deemed incredible,

Opposed to all the precedents of war.

Were yearly done and recorded by fame.

Until the land breathed free, and we beheld

Our flag triumphant wave from every hill.

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And in that name what individual acts

Have been accomplished ! I have known the soul,

Lukewarm in hope and courage, take quick fire,

And burn to noble death beneath its spell.

And I have known the base and dissolute —

The wretch that fought for plunder, hardened men.

Cold soldiers by profession, shallow souls —

Burlesques of heroes, lions in the camp.

And lambs in battle — I have known all these

To change their very nature at that name.

And in the day of opportunity

Prove Romans all ; and terrible in fight,

Heap fame and honor and proud victory

Upon themselves and country !

But these things
Were yet unknown, unborn. The burning deed
Yet lingered that would consecrate that name,
Baptize it in warm blood, and send it forth
On its miraculous mission through the world.
As yet the name of maiden Jane McCrea
Was but a synonym of beauty, grace.
And worth, and all things rare and excellent
In maidenhood's domain. And in that realm
She ruled supreme and only. It was she
Who reigned the belle of all the border land,
The boast and toast of all the gallant souls
In camp and garrison, the old man's cheer.
The light of every young man's heart and eyes ;
A queenly creature, governing her world
By right supreme of beauty and excellence.
Who moved among her people royally.
Regarded now with fond solicitude,
Because 'twas whispered that she was in love —
Love makes a maiden sacred, so they say.

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143

Among the people there's a story told

About a soldier wounded in the war,

Who fled through weary leagues of wilderness

'Mid wild and secret perils of the woods,

Hunger and beasts and foes inveterate.

Seeking the camp ; and how at length he reached it —

Only to lay him down a broken man

In mind and body in a hospital.

Along with more of war's unfortunates,

To be born back with pain ; and how our Jane,

Then but a tender bud of maidenhood.

From sacred pity that he had no friend

To nurse him in his sickness, took the place

Of the restoring angel by his bed,

And came and went a sunbeam in the gloom

Of that dark hospital ; and how at length,

Amid the feeble glimmerings of his mind.

He knew her face alone among the many

That passed before him daily. And 'tis said

That when the lamp of mind burned clear once more

And he could rise and walk with growing strength,

And feel his heart returning through her care.

From long beholding her he came to love her ; —

The gentle looks, the touch of soothing hands,

And all the nameless magic of a voice

Attuned to sympathy, so wrought upon him

That when he rose again, a man restored.

His heart had all gone forth to the restorer.

And then they tell how he delayed to speak

The passion that possessed him, hiding it

And hoarding it for awe and sacredness,

Apart within his breast ; till learning late

By chance report of love already pledged

By her to some first lover long preferred.

In manly silence, but with broken looks,

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144

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He went away, leaving due recompense
Of gratitude for all the faithfulness
That wrought his restoration. So he passed
From living sight and knowledge of his friends,
And half from their remembrance as the days,
Burdened with anxious cares of war, went by,
And strife of factions. Then at last came one
Who brought the tidings of a battle fought
Out somewhere in the West, who told the tale
That when 'twas o'er and won, among the slain
They found a soldier, propped against a wall.
Still grasping his red blade, and round his feet,
Fallen in a horrid heap, full many a foe
Lay weltering, gashed with many a fearful wound.
As from a madman's fury. And they found,
W^hen they approached to bear him from that post
Of death and valor to a soldier's grave.
Pressed to dead lips with war-ensanguined hand
A lock of golden hair, that could have grown
On but one lovely head in all the world.

Ah, such a girl ! Ah me, had I been young ! —

Had I been young and free, as once I'd been.

With all the virgin hunger of the heart,

And all the headlong fire and fantasy

That heavenly beauty kindles in the biain,

What soul can tell what might have been ? Ah well.

Her heart had built its nest in another tree !

Her smile, that would have overflowed with light

Of glory and gladness some proud patriot's soul.

Love-darkened all for her, had lit amiss

Upon a Royalist! And truly 'twas

A time of strange affections, lives perplexed.

And lives run all to random ! Ere the war

Broke o er our land for life and liberty,

The Burgoyne Ballads.

145

While peace prolific tended at the plough,

And heaped the grain in autumn well content,

Walking thus largely liberal through the year,

A youth, young, gay, and handsome, choicely bred.

With mind and manners shaped in city schools.

Whose stock had taken root in border soil,

And flourished into fair prosperity

With lands and cattle, saw our forest rose

Brightening the borders of his daily path,

And stopped, admired and plucked it. And the maid,

Whose kin were friends of freedom, first of those

Who voiced in the assemblies of the people

Those thoughts deemed treason by the power o'er seas

Ruling our land, became his promised bride —

And he a Royalist ! By what mad chance,

Or what wild tossing of the dice of fate,

While wild war-spirits laughed, that stroke befell.

Predicting strange confusion in the event,

And necessary vengeance — who can say I

Were there not gallant fellows mad to woo.

And just as gallant fellov/s mad to win,

Among her near and loyal countrymen.

Who blessed the ground she trod on, air she breathed,

And made her queen and goddess of their thoughts,

That she should cast her treasure all away

Upon a counterfeit of royalty.

That royalty despises in its heart —

A foolish boy mad for a uniform

Of scarlet — scarlet as the hue of shame

That mantled honest faces when his act

Of treason stirred the border ! Many a curse

Lit on the act and actor, out of lips

Thin drawn with bitterness ; and many a brow

Knit hard, and many an eye flashed sullen fire ;

And many a nail bit flesh of palm, as men

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li\

Thought on his deed and its significance —

The torture and the peril of the time,

Chiefly endured because of treachery,

Betrayals by false friends, who underground

Set traps to catch their neighbors unawares.

Invoking all the arms of foreign foes.

Leagued with the hatchet and the incessant torch

Of pitiless heathen for our overthrow.

How we remembered all the suffering,

The ceaseless roar of war waves round our shores,

Breeding anxieties, reports extreme

Of battle and disaster day by day.

On sea and land, and all the multitude

Of harrying disquiets poured upon us !

At home, the frequent midnight burnings, raids,

And sudden slaughters, and a land laid waste,

Fast slipping back to savagery, with life

Cheapened to competition with the brutes,

Our fellow-sufferers. And everywhere.

Suspended over every household hearth.

Forever in the trembling thoughts and dreams

Of helpless grandsire, maiden, wife and babe.

Scaring the dove of peace from every home.

The fearful image of the tomahawk !

Was it so strange, remembering such things,

A fire of hate should spring from this small spark

Dropped on such fuel ! Then to think that one

Who bartered honor for a piece of tape

To wear upon his shoulder should have won

And held so sweet a treasure, 'twas enough

To roil men's thoughts, and stir their passions up

To protestation — powerless enough,

Because love makes a mockery of us all.

But while they flung him hate and burning scorn

As his right portion, still they loved the maid,

Because she was so rare and beautiful.

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147

But by and by the morning ! 'Twas the pipe

Of bird, I think, that first announced the dawn

From some near tree — a sweet and slender strain,

Inquisitive, as if the dear musician

Were doubtful if he caught the scent of dawn.

And hesitated in his song. But now

Upon that note pipe after pipe broke forth

In choral harmony from all the hill.

Until a thousand joyous voices blent

Were making fairy music to the dawn !

It ceased ; and then appeared a narrow line

Of mellow light low on the eastern sky,

Beyond the distant hill lines as they lay

Crouched on the horizon, silent, saturnine.

And then a deeper glow warmed the same hills,

That rose, unmasked, and showed their visages

Beaming with genial light. And the same splendor

Made pale the lustre of the summer stars

Sprinkled along the east, and sent the darkness,

Broken and pierced with many a kindling shaft,

In broad retreat, until the orient

Shone with red glory, though the sun delayed.

The heavens waxed warm and bright, but all the earth

Slept, in that latter deep and dreamless slumber

That aye precedes the waking. Silent all

The endless forest lay, except perchance,

Unceasing, as the sweet breeze played, arose

The sigh and murmur of a million leaves

Shaken o'erhead ; the hum of rushing waves ;

And sounding on in endless monotone.

The surge and rumble of the cataract

Far northward. And below along the plain

Reposed the fortress ramparts coiled in dusk.

Girdled with scattered huts ; and on the right

Beneath the walls the eager Hudson flowed,

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M; II,

M/ ;

Marching with all his thousands from the hills,

With rustle and murmur of his million feet,

Passing unseen beneath his cloud of mist

That overhung him, seen for many a mile

Tracking the forest with a trail of fleece.

But brighter grew the red along the sky.

And thinner grew the veil that wrapped the woods,

As marched the light to westward o'er the world ;

And then a bow of ruddy fire appeared,

Crowning the far-off topmost eastern hill,

And in a moment o'er the wilderness

Broke the broad sun ! — a swimming fount of fire,

Pouring its streams across the solitudes,

Kindling the world to beauty with his blaze.

His rays fired up the fog along the stream.

And set the water sparkling, gilt the sands.

Hung webs of yellow gauze about the hills,

And woke the merry music of the birds

In thicket deep and treetop everywhere.

Oh, 'twas a sight worth one long watch to see.

That world-old battle of the day with night.

In which the day is glorious conqueror!

And while I gazed, and silent blessed the light

For all its bounteous life and cheerfulness,

A lengthened drum-pulse throbbed along the plain,

That chorured with my heart-pulse pleasantly.

It ceased A wreath fantastic of fierce smoke .

Rolled from the fort's low eastern parapet,

And lo ! the fort spoke from her early gun.

Telling the world of morning ! And the sound,

Recoiling, passed, and fell among the hills

Crashing; as when a storm cloud from the wes^

Opens its first hoarse volley o'er the hills

That cracking rends the arches of the wo. ,,

Making the heart leap up in bird and beast

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And man, and striking silent all the trees
In all their leaves. And then in mimicry,
A hundred echoes, seizing on the theme,
Ran babbling it the forest arches through.
Hither and thither flying through the wilds,
With voices blowing ever faint and fainter.
Far off and farther, dying on the wind
That blew from out the solitudes.

For me,
Yet one long hour before relief would come.

I leaned upon my weapon, looking down

Upon the narrow vista of the plain,

Where war had drawn a furrow of dark earth.

And planted it with cannon. There had men

Reared for themselves rude homes in which to dwell,

And till their narrow strip of backward soil,

And hunt and fish and barter, nestled there

Beneath the fostering pinions of the fort ;

Each cottage with its tributary lawn,

Beds of rare roses, yellow marigolds.

And lilacs shadowing doorways with their green

Blossoms just fallen — haunts of friendly birds.

That made their homes in summer 'mid the boughs.

I saw the people stirring out of doors,

About their morning tasks — a pleasant sight,

As I remember how it moved me then —

Some bringing wood to light their morning fires,

And some with yoke and bucket, toilsomely.

That brought fresh water from the river's brink ;

Or driving forth their cattle 'mid the dew

To some deep forest pasture out of sight.

I saw the soldiers moving in the fort,

A few from cabined quarters just emerged.

Greeting the morning from the low dark walls ;

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The Purgoyne Ballads.

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Half-naked gunners on the parapets,

Swabbing away like demons in the light

Of the red sun ; and creeping on his post,

The sleepy watch with gun and bayonet ;

Or servants from the stables leading forth,

With halters slack, the train of thirsty beasts

To water where the river lapped the sand.

And I remember most especially

How good the cook house smoke seemed to my eyes,

And how the thought of breakfast cheered me up,

And all the genial mess-room company

One has in barracks.

But in seeing this
I saw not all. And truly such a morning —
So flush, so rich — was pledge of fairer things
Than visions of rough, kindly cottagers
And war-stained soldiers — something for a crown
To this fair morning kingdom. And that pledge
Was now redeemed. Upon the southern edge
Of the high forest wall that girt the camp,
A something, charmed with airy grace and motion,
Something akin to sunrise and fresh dews,
A.id winds, and blowing roses of the wilds —
A waft of morning — crossed my longing sight,
Brightly advancing. Where the river waves.
Penned in a cove that balked their onward rush.
Like sheep pressed in confusion and complained,
Striking the sand and shrinking in recoil.
Pressing back on their fellows suddenly.
As if they feared to tread the shining sands
That bore their foot-prints of unnumbered years,
I saw it break the shadows of the wood.
And dawn another sunrise on the camp.
Just touching it in passing. Where the fort

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Thrust out a threatening angle toward the stream,

It lightly turned and took the narrow path —

The path that we had taken — moving on

Across the plain, across the river marsh,

Threading the gleaming ribbon of the path

Dry shod, as light and dainty as a fawn

That trips the forest pasture. And I leaned

And watched it hushed, as one so often will

Who stands and cranes his neck, and holds his breath,

To note the outcome of some ventured guess,

As if 'twere life or death. And so my heart

Laid wager with my eyes who this might be

Coming so lightly. 'Twas a woman's form

Coming so sweetly — sight in soldier's eyes

Most prized of all in this great wilderness.

Because so rare and transient. On it came

Until it reached a cabin reared of logs

Piled roughly in their bark, and covered o'er

With faded forest branches that crouched low

Within the outer circle of low huts —

A lonely little dwelling, with its door

Swung open to the morning, and a curl

Of friendly smoke above its chimney stack.

And to its door the maid of morning came.

And paused. And from the cabin came a dame

Of stanch and portly frame, and courteously

Took the fair morning stranger by the hand,

And led her in ; and both were lost to sight.

They pas'sed away from sight, but ere they went

A breath of laughter floated up to me.

Upon the air of morning sweetly borne.

And then my heart laid claim upon my eyes

For one more wager won — 'twas lovely Jane,

Even as my heart had said ! And this was she —

The famous, lovely, luckless Jane McCrea,

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Whose face had set such martial hearts aflame,
Whose mournful fate has set the world on fire !
And I was glad at heart to have her near,
And blessed the sunny morning in my soul,
Praised the soft wind, the flashing river, and
The songs of birds and forms of fellow-men,
And all the forest scene. But suddenly
All gladness died within me as my soul,
By some mysterious instinct like a hound,
Caught a fleet scent of evil in the air,
Far off or hovering. There was lovely Jane,
Arrayed as for her bridal, with the sun
Seeking a Tory's house — I knew the dame,
A brave Scotch lady, but in sentiment
A Royalist as rank as ever breathed.*
Here was our maiden nested in that lodge
Of treason, with her lover hovering nigh.
Hawk-like and watchful, in the English camp,
Perhaps prepared to march with horse and foot
Against her friends and mine, the feeble few
Who held the fort, for 'twas a conquered land.
What fate had lured her forth at such a time
Of watch and danger ? Was it possible
She dreamed to quit the shelter of the camp,
And home and friends, and all the gallant guard
Of hearts and weapons leagued in her defence.
For that dark league of wilderness, beset
By such two well-known dangers, all for a sight
Of one mad boy in uniform ? Alas !
If she had only known — had only known !
If she had only kept at home that day !
But there too late was she !

Then like a peal
Of trumpet to a soldier in his dreams,

* Mrs. McNeil, a cousin of General Simon Fraser.

The Burgoyne Ballads. 153

There spake our foes ! There came a deadly crash
Of rifles from the summit of the hill,
A burst of smoke, and then a cry so wild
And savage that the heart stopped at the sound
An instant in its beating, and then leapt,
Making the brain swim. 'Twas the battle shout
Of twice a score of savage enemies
Launching from ambush in a dim ravine
That split the upper hilltop with a gash
From some old torrent stroke, now flowing o'er
With a roaring tide of red ferocity
Upon my hapless comrades of the guard.

Downward the cloud of battle swept the hill.
Shooting its smothered lightnings as it went.
With thunder and sound of voices wildly blent.
Fierce yells, and short sharp cries from here and

there,
Where a shot struck the life, and laid on earth
A soldier quivering. And on its edge
Now and again lithe figures sprang to sight
And vanished 'mong the tree boles here and there ;
And then there passed the fleeting pantomime
Of clenched and struggling forms that rolled on earth,
With nimble limbs like serpents writhed and tossed,
Knit in the last great grapple breast to breast.

The first live thing I saw break from that cloud

Was one poor soldier fleeing from his foes,

Wild-eyed, bareheaded, wounded, weaponless,

All blind with blood and terror, leaping out

From the upper blulf, who fell, and gathering, came,

Now stumbling more than running, toward the spot

Where I stood roused and watching.

On he came.

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But a clear streak of fire broke from above

And downward, and he stopped with staring eyes

A moment, and then dropped a clod beside me,

Pierced through the breast ; and at his fall his foe,

A tall fantastic warrior grim as hate,

Launched at him from the bluff, with pealing cries

Of triumph, waving high a glancing blade.

To bear away the trophy of his deed.

He never reached it ! Swifter than the lightning

My weapon rose and spoke, and at the word

Down rolled the heathen howling, clutching earth,

And showering leaves in agony — a stroke

Well struck, and yet, alas ! the only one

That fate permitted me to deal that day.

For lo ! the hanging bluff was all alive

With gliding forms and fearful visages.

And streaming scalp-locks ! Then I knew in soul

The fatal issue of that dark surprise.

And fight so quickly finished — naught, alas !

Save sudden death or capture to my friends,

Whose weapons spoke no more, whose shouts were

still,
Whose enemies in insolent victory
Ranged everywhere.

One instant desperate
Wherein to fight or flee — to die or flee —
That was the choice. With madness in my soul.
Yet loving life, I laid my gun aside.
That death to many a foeman, and my friend
Trusted and true, gift of my ancestor,
Whose deeds in former wars had made it famous —
Famed weapon, famous fighter ; cast beside it
My oxhorn flask, and leathern , '•uch with balls;
Plucked out the heavy war-axe irom my belt.
Grasped firm my knife, and glancing everywhere

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For lurking foes, slid snake-like down the path,

Brushing the foliage lightly ; then leapt out,

Long like a hunted deer, when stretch the hounds

Red-mouthed upon his track. And running raised

My voice, and rang aloud along the plain —

" Fly for your lives, the foe is at your doors !

Fly to the fort !" to warn the villagers.

I never reached the fort though ; luck, or fate,

Or some ill influence that dogs men's steps,

Had writ me down unfortunate that day.

For scarce my feet had carried nie 'mid plain,

Running with every nerve stretched, arms a-play,

My spirits up and dancing, courage roused,

And passions all enlisted in the race.

When suddenly a thicket by the path

Let out three lurking heathen on my front,

And cut the glorious race short. One of the three,

A hunched black warrior with a spiteful eye.

Thrust out a fire-arm in malignant rage.

And as I bounded onward, fired, and I

Plunged forward to the earth, stung in the heel

By hissing lead — a moment shocked, surprised,

Not knowing well my hurt — fell, but arose.

Hot-faced with rage, and met my foeman there

With one slim blade, but panting for the strife

Of strength and warrior courage to the end.

But ere a blow was struck, amid the pause

Defiant, filled with flying hateful glances,

A tall wild warrior, limbed like Hercules,

And slippery as a serpent from the fens

Of his old forests, flung his gun to earth.

Leapt lightly on me, coiled himself about me.

Tying my limbs with tangles of lithe strength.

And bore me down to earth tied motionless ;

And his companion, greedily with his hands

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Tied fast my limbs with cords. Then both arose,
And looked on me. Then the hunched heathen took
My blade, torn from my grasp, and whetted it
Upon his earth-soiled moccasin awhile,
Eying me as a butcher eyes a sheep
Laid bound for slaughter. Ceasing, up he sprang.
And flashed the steel in my eyes, extravagant
In cries and shows of triumph.

So I lay
Bound in the presence of my enemies.
It was a thing most wonderfully done —
I never saw aught like it in my time,
'Mid all the cunning arts and sleights of fight
Long practised in the handicraft of war !
My^heart cried shame upon me then, and tears.
The first to dim my eyes for many a year.
Flowed to reproach my fallen estate, that I,
A famous wrestler in my college days,
And man of action, and on many a field
Since then triumphant in my strength of arm,
At last should yield my prestige in the art
To that wild fellow of the woods, untaught,
With naught but simple nature for his friend.
And yet amid my sharp humility
I did admire the deed ! It pleased me so
That I forgave the fellow on the spot
With all my heart, it was so bravely done !

A few swift words in their ungentle tongue,
Complete with glancing eyes and waving arms.
Passed 'twixt my captors. Then the champion took
His weapons, beckoned to his chosen mate —
A lean and sinewy warrior, like a wolf —
Who followed, and the pair with secret steps
Passed silently from sight. And then approached

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My foe, that piece of fierce deformity,
And bade me rise. And I arose and went.
Having no choice, before him up the slope,
Printing the path with blood, but with the sun
Warm on my back ; and soon, with bounden limbs,
In pain lay stretched beneath the ancient pine
Where gushed the spring of water from the bank —
A vein of pearl by moonshine, but in the sun
A darting snake of gold that rustling ran
Down briary cleft of hillslope to the plain.
I lay and watched it from my rugged couch
Awhile, half pleased and soothed to see it flow,
Bearing my thought a moment on its wave.

Then sounds were heard above me on the rock.

Voices confused, and tread of many feet.

And ring of arm that clashed on fellow arm

Cast on the earth. But all I heard unmoved.

Being downcast and captive. But my guard

Grew restless at the sounds, and flew aside

Often to view the scene, as oft returned

With looks more dark and threatening ; till at last,

O'ercome by restless longing like a child,

Fretful of aught that bars him from his wish,

He vanished up the rock, leaving behind

His spear, and one wild warning glance of eye

Shot backward as he passed. I heeded not,

But lay until his last limb disappeared,

Withdrawn above the brink ! 'Twas then with pain

And utmost struggle that I rose and stood,

Supported by the pine tree's friendly bulk —

Ah, how the cords did eat into my flesh ! —

And looked with sharpened eyes across the plot

Brought level with my gaze. It was a sight

To stir the heart with wrath, disgust, and hate.

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To fill the soul with curses 'stead of prayer,

The mouth with prayers that were naught else but

curses ;
And stir a sleeping demon in the breast
To thrills of fiendishness that puts to shame
The thing divine in man. A company
Red-handed from the slaughter clustered there,
Astir with dark exultance round a heap
Of ghastly battle trophies, which their hands
Had stripped from murdered bodies of brave men.
And they my comrades ! Garments bathed in blood
Were there ; and many a weapon with its steel
Dimmed with the smoke of conflict, as it fell
From some strong soldier's grasp struck in mid course
Of fiery onset. One slim blade I saw
Snapped at the point and crimsoned to the haft.
Among the throng were some that crawled along
On wounded limbs, the furnace of their hate
Seven times more heated by the fires of pain ;
And now and then a hand amid the throng
Would pluck a loathly object from a girdle,
And whirl the fearful trophy high in air,
Whereon triumphant cries broke from the throng.
That filled my soul with loathing. Back I sank
Upon the kindlier earth, all sick at soul.
With nature shocked, offended at the sight
Of triumph more degrading than defeat.

Now sounds of coming footsteps caught my ear
Climbing the path beneath me ; though the leaves
Hung thick before the way, and mixed o'erhead,
Shut out the panting climbers from my sight,
A hope my soul had harbored while I lay
Helpless, with prayers for vengeance on my foes,
Sprang up alive at these oncoming sounds,

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And broke the dear news to my panting heart,

This was the longed-for succor from the fort —

Alas, that never came I The foliage

That closed the path, just where it took its plunge

Sheer to the plain, was shaken for a space,

Then parted, and my conqueror stood in view,

With some behind him. It was then I saw

The first true act of savage gallantry

My eyes had ever seen. A step aside

He made, and paused, and gracefully with his hand

Drew back the plaited foliage from the path.

And let two ladies through. The first that came

Was Jennie, issuing from the leafy shade

In all her maiden glory — like the sun,

O'ermounting in its course victorious

Through heaven the cloud that barred his early beams.

The morning's exercise had put a flush

Of rosy warmth upon her countenance ;

Her bonnet now was off, and from her head —

That strong proud head she carried like a queen —

Even from the low brow backward o'er her crown,

Along her back until its crinkled gold

Streaked bright the path behind her as she walked,

Rolled down in glorious billows that great hair

Whose match was never seen in all the world !

I looked upon her face — there was no shade

Of fear that troubled her fair countenance ;

But in her sweet blue eyes a pointed light

Quivered ; and on her cheek, and in her lips,

Proud curled and beautiful, a fire and sting

Of lovely indignation burned, that told

A world of things by tongue unspeakable,

In judgment from a proud imperial soul

Offended. Painfully behind her came

Her friend and hostess, great in flesh and frame.

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On whom the heat and toil pressed wearily ;
And o'er her shoulder as she came two eyes
Shone baleful, of a captor at her back.

Scarce had they issued ere the maiden's eyes
Beheld me lying helpless in my bonds.
She thrust aside with an imperious hand
And glance of scorn, her captor from her path,
And came close to my side, knew me and smiled.
And spoke a pleasant word to cheer me up,
Bending above till her fallen hair
Touched my prone breast with blessing — in her care
For me forgetful of her greater woe.

tender light of woman's sympathy.
Shining in that dark place !

A moment more
And all were passing onward up the path,
Round the rock's angle, climbing toward the plot —
A rugged path for tender feet to tread,
Rough, hard and stony cruel ! Oh, I wished —

1 wished and longed, but could not, being bound —
To ease them on — it was but natural —

One loves to smooth the pathway for a friend !
And as they vanished, winding round the rock,
I felt that awful sinking of the heart
Suddenly take me, that I oft had felt.
Sometimes on battle-fields, sometimes in camps,
And often on the waters of the deep.
Forerunning some disaster, woe or death
To one 1 loved the best in all the world.
They reached the plot and halted ; then a shout
Vociferous from savage throats arose
In greeting to their chief. And then the chiefs.
Grave and subdued, apart upon the rock,
Assembled in dark conclave, motionless

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Except for lips and eyes unresting moved

In energy of speech, and glances shot

Oft toward the fort with sign significant,

And oft upon the captives. And among them,

Chief in authority and eloquence,

Presided my wild captor. Brief the council.

And soon dissolved ; and mixing with the men,

By swift and subtle signs the chiefs made known

Their will. And then stepped forth two warriors,

strong
Of limb and innocent of battle stain
Or reek of human trophy, and addressed
In broken tongue, but still unbroken signs,
And not ungentle art and emphasis
The elder captive, pointing toward the north
With often outstretched arm and liberal air
Of signified assurance. But the dame
Returned no word nor stirred, but stood bowed down
As if absorbed in her calamity.
And oft she sighed and deep, like one o'erspent
With toil or utmost grief. A little while
Remained she thus, and then she raised her head,
W^ith stern and flashing eyes fixed on her foes,
And opening at once her heart and lips.
Poured out with marvellous mastery of tongue
A rain of indignation on her foes.
And all the band shrank awestruck from that speech.
Whose fire and thrust wrought havoc with their wits,
And overthrew each warrior where he stood
With fear and admiration. Cowed, subdued,
Bv such unwonted thunder in their ears.
They changed — unchanged in purpose still — their arts
To win obedience to their designs
From their reluctant captive — cringed and crawled
In awkward forms of savage blandishment.

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The Bnrrjoyne JicUlads.

And flatteries unpractised by their kind.
Their rude jjcrsuasions triumphed ; and the two
Took her hetween them, moving leisurely*
And sought the broader highway pointing east
Along the hill's foot. Winding toward the plain
They pressed along, appearing in and out
Among the hazel shoots and pine-tree boles
That clustered thick between us, and were gone.

* At this point it would seem that Mrs. McNeil
lost sight of Jenny, "who," to use the language of
Mrs. McNeil, in relating the circumstances afterward,
"was there ahead uf me, and appeared to be firmly
seated on the saddle, and held the rein, while several
Indiansseemed to guard her — the' Wyandotte Panther'
still ascending the hill and pulling along by bridle-bit
the alfiighted horse upon which poor Jenny rode."
Mrs. McNeil, however, was soon separated from
Jenny and carried ort to "Griffith's House," and there
kept by the Indians until the next day, when she was
ransomed and taken to the British camp. " I never
saw Jenny afterward," says Mrs. McNeil, "nor any-
thing that appertained to her person, until my arrival
in the British camp, when an aide-de-camp showed me
a fresh scalji-lock which I could not mistake. Till
that evidence of her death was exhibited, I hoped
almost against hope that poor Jenny had been either
rescued or brought by our captors to some part of the
British encamjjment." While at " Griffith's House,"
Mrs. McNeil endeavored to hire an Indian, named
Captain Tommo, to go back and search for her com-
panion ; but neither he nor any of the Indians could be
prevailed upon to venture even as far back as the brow
of Fort Edward Hill to look down it for the
" White Squaw," as they called Jenny.

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And as they passed, my eyes from the pursuit
Flew hack to the rock where hovered all my fears,
Like birds among the branches when the snake
Comes crawling toward the nest. Upon that rock,
Conspicuous amid the wilderness,
With these wild scenes and faces witnessing,
Those children of two races, white and red.
The maiden and the warrior, with a sword
Extinguishing between them, stood apart
And gazed upon each other. . . . May his race
Fade from the white man's face as sank his gaze
Before those eyes of steadfast innocence,
Judging his lawless soul !

Meanwhile, the sun.
All bright till then, and shining in his strength.
Making the whole world beautiful with light,
Suddenly darkened, and a wind arose,
Silent till then, and wailing filled the woods
With mournful sounds, and sinking swept the ground,
Shaking the leaves and trailers on the stones.
And whispering round the tree trunks drearily,
As if it knew and grieved. And in the trees
The sweet birds ceased their songs, and suddenly
With piercing cries fled through the lowering air,
Whirling in frightened bevies out of sight.
Away in forest depths some wandering wolf
Howled and was still ; and some distressed beast
In some far border farmyard raised its voice
And lowed disconsolate to the darkened sky.
And through my heart and blood a dull chill crept.
And o'er my mind a dark foreboding cloud
Closed by degrees, and was not lifted more
Till that dark evil drawing to a head
Discharged itself in blood upon the land.

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There rose a sudden tumult on the rock,

Like shouts of drunken soldiers when a town

Is sacked, and riot howls amid the streets,

Urged on by lust and passion and vile drink

Concocted by the devil. And I saw

The fit of lawless passion break and rage,

'Mid brutal violence and strife of tongues.

Not wanting coarsest poison ; gestures mad,

Flashing of hate-hot eyes, hands clenched and tossed

In desperate menace, weapons seized and drawn,

And all the tumult of a savage strife

Swelling to blows. And I stood trembling, stayed

Against my bulwark tree, with all the man

Within me crying out against my bonds,

No power of mine could rend, although I strove

With strength by rage made desperate — all in vain ! —

The cord was trusty and the knot made sure

Beyond all rending.

Suddenly as I gazed,
A rifle barrel gleamed amid the throng,
Hung there a moment set and ominous,
Ere the wild shot screamed out. Then I beheld
The maid start suddenly, as if surprised
At the hurt done her, saw her shining head
Sink, with its weight of tresses, to her breast ;
I heard a long deep sigh, as of a soul
Passing to quiet rest ; and sinking down
She lay a lovely ruin on the earth,
All overflowed wit!' her great wave of hair.
And then I saw a hatchet whirl in air.
And fall upon that poor defenceless head
Scarr? yet insensible. These eyes did see
A savage hand twined in that sacred hair,
A hell-lit face above, a g'''ter of steel.

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

And then — and then I saw no more ! I barred
With burning lids my eyes against the sight,
And turned and laid me on the earth and wept —
As I weep now. Forgive me if I weep,
It helps the heart to grieve a little while —
The flow of tears turns off the flood of woe.
And saves the heart from too much memory —
The memory of that deed unparalleled
In all the annals of this bloody land
Since history began. . . .

Oh, there goes forth
A cry that shall be quiet nevermore,
A voice to speak unto the years unborn,
A voice proclaiming judj^ment, and a power
To trouble thrones, cast reputations down
Beyond wide seas, in other, alien lands
Our arms can never reach, our laws o'erawe,
Our justice rectify. That voice was heard
A war cry thrilling through the patriot hosts
On Saratoga's field. And flying on,
It soimded wild o'er Yorklown, and gave back
The eagle to our hosts. On ocean's wave
It sounded suddenly amid the roar
Combined of wind and wave and bellowing guns ;
Filled with heroic madness the strong souIp,
Of seamen, till another answering shout,
This time of victory, ran on the waves
Which bore the news to all the nations. So
Our flag triumphant waves from every hill.

And when at length I looked abroad again,
Another change had come upon the scene ;
The summer sky was blue ami bright again,
Now that the evil shadow of that cloud
Had broken up, and passing left it clear.

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For that mysterious darkness now was gone ;
Again the sun shone o'er the wilderness,
Again the merry birds sang in the trees,
The squirrel skipped and sported on his limb,
And cast the empty refuse of his feast
With mocking gibes upon me as I lay.
Then sped with nimble scamperings out of sight.
A pleasant breeze hummed quaintly in my ears,
Making the leaves shake lightly, while the sun
Speckled the rich turf under them with gold.
Nature, who closed her eyes on that dark deed.
Refusing to behold it, now was gay.
And made her Sabbath music as before.

Part II.

Ah well ! I scarcely knew what next they did.
Except they spared me — spared my worthless life,
Though they had torn my heart, and stunned my brain.
And stabbed my suffering spirit through and through
With thrice the pangs of deatii. I'hey loosed my

bonds,
And bade me rise — not spitefully indeed —
Even a little pitifully it sc«-med.
And I arose and made essay to walk,
With such poor progress as my stumbling limbs
Might make along a path so blind and rough.
Foi I was stunned, benumbed in head and limb,
And inoved as one that walks but half awake,
Scarce feeling pain or pleasure. Everything
Seemed strangely diin and dusky round me now.
And faint and dream-like. All the pleasant sounds
And gladsome sights that filled the Sabbath woods
Came to me through some dusky medium
That cloaked the senses.

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167

So wc passed alongf,
My captors stranp^ely temperate with nie
In my loose walk, and stumblinj2:s to and fro,
With feet benumbed and bleeding. Vet they kept
Ever beside me, gliding dim and dark.
Like demons in a nightmare — creeping, creeping —
So dumb and death-like — it was terrible !
Truly they seemed like devils!

Slow we went
Under the cooling shade, o'er leaf-beds spread
To deaden more our footsteps ; when erelong
We overtook the dame and her two guards —
Travellers more slow than we — journeying on
Their road laboriously. And yet the dame
Faded not of spirit, but brave and bright of eye,
And stout of heart, toiled on complainingless.
I thought she paled a little when she saw
Our band appear with but one prisoner,
;\nd that the one least present in her thoughts ;
Perhaps she questioned me by some mute sign —
But I was stunned and dreaming, knowing naught,
And she bore stoutly onward as before.

At last we reached a cabin hid in woods.
Log-built and brown, with hospitable look —
A sort of inn, with loungers round the door —
White men and red, who roused them as we came
Up to the porch, and gazed, but s.iid no word —
^\nd d(jgs and children |)laying round the porcli.
And here we paused and rested for awhile,
Took footl, and such rough comfort as we n\ight,
Heing downcast and captive, and reserved
For what dark fate we knew not — nav, and I —
At least I cared not ! Fate had naught lor me
I even cared to question or to know,

168

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

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So weary was my soul of all this strife.

We gathered up, and took our road again,

Something improved in spirit and in limb,

For the brief tarry and the food we took.

And now our captors grew more kind, and turned

Often, and spoke to us in broken words,

And not ungcntly. Tried to cheer us up,

Speaking in words and signs of camp and friends.

Of ransoms and of coming liberty —

Themes, to be sure, to buoy a captive up.

And start a peering hope within the heart

Of black misfortune — all in vain to me,

Too heart-sick to revive at anything ;

Too worn of all this seeming senseless strife.

Of all this noisy war of arms and tongues —

These endless themes of battles, battles, battles !

Of marches, sallies, camps and victories

Forever on men's tongues ! Sick of this land —

Sick of the land and all its miseries.

And even of life and all that life contains.

And my brave comrade in captivity —

She was too angry still to heed them much,

Or answer if she heeded.

When the sun
Had dipped i)elow the fringe of forest trees
Far on the skirts of that green lonely world.
And half the summer afternoon had waned,
Slow fading toward the .vest, we reached a place
Where tlie high plain around us and behind
Ceased suddenly, and the land fell away
To northward with a plunge, into a stretch
Of dark and sunken soil, with cedar shades
O'crspread, that girt the highlands like a girdle.
And in its very coil the British camp.
Dotting a low knoll with its clustered tents.

^«*np.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

169

Like cones of fleece amid the blackened stumps
And black earth scorched with fire. And round it,

walls
Of cedar woods impenetrable, wild,
And dim and lonesome. 'Twas a jirctty sight,
That touched the soul with a reviving sense
Of hope and cheer and human fellowship,
After that dim and ghostly march, with souls
Bowed 'neath their burden of captivity.
And as we looked, it seemed as if I saw,
Instead of tents that sheltered mortal foes,
A camp of angels, with celestial tents
Pitched in the heart of the great wilderness,
Gleaming a moment, soon to be withdrawn.
Our ca|)tors saw, and shouting swung in air
Their bloody relics ; for their march was done.
Their danger past, their triumph nigh complete.
They shouted, and an answering cry arose
From the camp's rear. And then a troop of friends —
Friends of our foes, God help us, not of ours —
Sprang forth to meet them, like a pack of dogs
Flying with yelps and gambollings of joy
To meet their kind returning from a raid
Upon some innocent sheepfold, bathed in blood.
And mad with gust of slaughter — so they came.
A file of soldiers too were soon on foot.
Flashing in steel and scarlet up the path.
And as they came the clamorous dogs grew mute.
Ceased their vile gambollings, and slunk away
O'erawed and cowed — except, indeed, the few
Whose game we were. And these restrained them-
selves.
Submitting while the King's men, filing round,
Enclosed and drew us from them. Silently,
With stately tread, they marched us down the hill,

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170

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TVte Burgoyne Dalladt.

And with no further parley or delay

Drew toward a lofj-rearcd cabin, roofed with hark,

That stood the centre of the clustered tents

That tlecked the knoll. A sentry in the path

Saluted, and our leader touched his cap.

And on we passed, dog^ged by our dusky foes,

Sliding along like shadows, and as still.

Suffered to pass with that mute tolerance

Which shadows claim that dog us everywhere —

Nay, worse, scorned and detested, so it seemed.

With silent and significant neglect

By these their bounden patrons, paymasters.

And nominal fair friends. Erelong we stood

Around the door of the great general's tent

Commanding these strong legions — men and arms —

Marching with i>urple pride and waving Hags

To crush the weak and miserable few

Who bore the burden of this mighty cause.

And the freedom of our people on their swords.

The red guard parted right and left, and we

Filed in between them through the open door,

My captive friend and I, and following still.

Our foes, subdued and watchful. Then the guard

W^heeled iiul marched off, a sergeant, proud and tall,

Stepping ih stately motion in our rear.

A low rucc room it was wherein we stood,
Divided in the midst bv dropping w.ills
Of painted cmtains, looped in heavy folds,
Like l);\nners o'er an archway. v\ll the walls
Were cedar beams yet shaggy with the bark
Wherein they grew ; and for a floor our feet
Stood ankle-deep in bearskins loosely laid
Upon the bare and rugged earth beneath.
Around the room were banners, weapons, chests

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The Burgoyiie Ballads.

171

Carved, and with mighty clasps of brass thereon,

Ancient, from over seas ; and everywhere

The all select and choice appurtenance

Of a great general's tent. There stood a desk,

Whereat a pale clerk in half uniform

Sat busy working at his documents.

His head upon one side, with sidelong eye

Upon the lines made by his running quill.

He quit his task, half wheelitig in h':, seat,

Eying us sharply; then smiled, half in scorn.

At such extreme dejection. "Ah," he said,

" Prisoners, I see ! Go, orderly, report

Two prisoners to the general, and return."

And turning to his documents again.

Wrote on. And the j)roud sergeant at the door

Stalked out, his sabre clanking as he went.

Then passed a scene I never shall forget.

The strangest scene, considering time and place.

My eyes have ever seen. Entered the tent

Two officers in royal uniform —

One, middle-aged and careworn, moving slow;

One, young, built like a j)rince, with Hashing eyes,

And with the name and character complete

Of soldier and brave man inscribed upon him —

A fine, dark fellow. Then the elder jiaused.

Scarce yet within the tent door, with his eyes

Upon the wretched dame, and suddenly.

With dubious voice, " Why, madam !" he exclaimed.

And, "General !" she replied, distinct and short ;

And flash upon that greeting there arose

A storm of tongue ami tem|)er, unapjjroached

In all my memory of wordy wars —

The crown and flower of female raillerv,

Saved by just rage from mere \ ulgarity

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

Detestable to see. Oh, it was rare,

To see that haughty English general,

Great lord of hosts, and conqueror of realms,

Who never bowed before an enemy.

Whipped in his tent by one wronged woman's tongue !

And that same woman his own cousin born —

His kinswoman according to the flesh ;

And more than that, in soul and sentiment,

A partner in the cause for which he fought —

A royalist as rank as ever breathed.

A doting lion, hungering for prey,

Had pounced upon and caught — a lioness !

And now, Sir Lion, look you out for claws !

Oh, and the claws were there ! And suddenly

Unsheathed, made havoc more complete than swords

Of twice a score of alien adversaries.

Whom courage might o'ercomc. " Sir, stand and look !

This is a precious piece of gallantry,

Right worthy of a Royal officer

And gentleman !" 'Twas thus the gale begun,

And waxed anon until it blew great guns.

Drowning all opposition. " On my word !"

" Upon the honor of a gentleman !"

" Madam, I swear" — " Permit me, but a word !"

" I never knew — indeed, how could I know ! —

I beg you stop and let me say a word."

Straws to the wind ! 'Twas wonderful to hear

What gusts of words, what flashes scintillant

Of keen sarcastic lightning, stormy bursts

Of most authentic thunder, what keen thrusts

Of deadly irony, dealt thick and fast.

One following on another like a glance,

Poured from the fiery heart and stormy lungs

Of that great titaness ! And ended all

With one great cry that filled the tent, and shrilled,

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The Bur<joyne Ballads.

173

Piercing all cars. " Oh, there stand murderers here !

Ask them of jenny — ask of Jane McCrea!"

And then the true warm woman in her heart

O'ermatched at last her rage, and down she sank,

O'ercome, and, like a woman, all in tears.

And thereupon the mighty general

lirought out a soldier's cloak of ample breadth,

And gallantly as ever soldier could

Spread it about the shoulders of the dame,

And smiling besought her wear it for awhile.

Until a fitting robe be found for her,

To better clothe her form. And she arose.

Mutt ing short thanks, and shaking down the folds.

Sat down again, wrapped up from head to heel.

And then the clerk, whose pen had quit its task

Upon the outbreak of that wordy war.

His eyes meanwhile brimful of sparkling fun.

And overbubbling humor scarce restrained.

Resumed his quill, and scratched on as before.

The general, mild and all obsequious,

Complacent with his tact and management,

Stood rubbing hands vivaciously.

Behind,
Unmoved and sullen, ranged along the wall.
The Indians stood, like shadows darkly limned.
But shadows with fierce eyeballs now and then
Slanting their dusky glimmer, half at rest,
Patient, on foot, taking their wonted ease.
And every mind took on a sense of calm
How grateful ; and each heart conceived a touch
Of human fellowship ; and every face
Assumed a look of comfort and content
At this subsidence — every face save one.
And that was white and anxious, as the man
Measured the cabin's length from end to end

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174

The liurgoyne Ballads.

With restless strides. A panther might have moved

Tlius while the hrush stirred with the hunter's steps,

Closing the hunt around him. As he i)aced

His glances j)iayed in an incessant search

Betwixt the dame and tiiose dumb witnesses

Ranged 'gainst the wall with looks inscrutable.

It was that princely soldier whom my eye

Had marked with admiration, — a moment since

Careless and graceful in his mien, but now

With soul strained like a bowstring while it trembles

Tense for the shaft. Then suddenly he ceased

His pacings, and strode straight up to the dame,

And on her shoulder laid a hand, and bent

With burning eyes above her, and at her ear —

Heard by all ears beside : " Tell me of Jane ;

Something you saiJ of Jenny — Jane McCrea."

And then the answer came, but not from lips

Of any living being. While he sj)oke,

Three wild and warlike figures foul with dust,

And soil of darker stain, came gliding in,

And halting, rolled their snaky eyes around, —

Silent, and weary with their forest march

And wild work of the morning ; yet no less

Elate with triumjjh cunningly concealed.

And as the soldier turned and faced them there,

One, a wild, brawny creature like a wolf,

Raised a strange thing he held, shook it aloft,

And with a red forefinger significantly

Tapped it and smiled — a grim, ferocious smile —

Even for a savage, grim and hideous.

Then from behind there rose a fearful cry,

A woman's cry of anger and despair ;

As when a lioness returned from hunt

All day, for prey to feed her little ones,

Hungry within their covert, comei at night

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And scents the bodies of her little ones
Slaughtered by hunters, and in ra«i^e and grief
Peals through the woods her solitary cry.
So cried the dame and rose, her mighty bulk
A(iuiver and her eyes ailame, her hand
Pointing — " O see ! that is our Jenny's hair.
O, they have slain — have slain our innocent !"
"That thing my Jenny's hair !" these were the words
I heard that poor bewililered lover say —
Bewildered for a moment, but no more.
And then there came a blow, iwift, deadly, sure,
That rolled the savage headlong to the earth.
There like a whirlwind passed a furious strife
Betwi.xt those fiery warriors white and red ;
One bent on vengeance deadly in its aim,
And one, with wily art and ready tact.
Evading that dread issue. I^Vom side to side.
Over and over thev rolled, until the tent
Shook, and the bearskins Hew this way and that
Among the circling spcct^ators, disturbed
With panic, this way dodging and then that,
To evade the writhing btidies. Thus the liiiht
Went on. iVntl when 'twas finished there arose
A soldier breathless, haggard, wild and torn,
And in his himd grasj)ed tight that ghastly thing

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And it was piteous how on fumbling feet

He staggered, blind and panting, through the tent

And sank upon a seat with face bcjwed down

And sunken in his hands in utter grief.

And thus he stayed awhile; then stirred, and passed

His hand along his brow and o'er his face.

And groaned aloud in mighty agony

Of .spirit. Suddenly he started up

And groped toward the tent door till an arm

Was lent in pity, and he leaned on that

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

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And passed the tenn door, groaning as he passed,
" Oh, my poor lost belovM ! my poor Jane!"
And thus with feeble footsteps, stunned and blind,
Tottering like age and palsy — piteously
He passed from sight a broken, ruined man.
And when we quit the tent at dusk that night,
And passed into the moonlight, with the stars
Above that dark and deadly wilderness
Flashing their kindly beacons through the night,
And the wind sighing mournful 'mid the tents,
And the far panther screaming in the wilds —
Upon the outmost edge of clustering tents.
Where the black earth fell off to blacker depths
Of dense morass and denser cedar shades,
We saw against the red orb of the moon
An unknown wandering figure cross our path,
And seek the shelter of a neighboring tent.
And as a wave of night-wind swept along
We seemed to hear that cry disconsolate
Pass on the night air^ piercing every soul —
"Oh, my poor lost beloved ! my poor Jane !"

THE END.

JANE McCREA.
By Lura a. Boies.*

'TwAS in the gorgeous summer time,
The vesper bells with mellow chime

Rang out the golden day.
Along the distant mountain's height,
And o'er the Hudson, flashing bright,
In purple floods of dazzling light,

The sunset glory lay ;

* For sketch of Miss Boies, see note, ante.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

The crimson of the western fires
Glowed redly on Fort Edward's spires,

And deeper splendors burned,
'Till Earth, with all her lakes and rills,
Her waving woods and towering hills.

To burnished gold was turned.

I had been listening to the chimes,
And thinking of the stirring times,

When hill and lonely glen
'Woke to the thunder tones of yore,
The sounds that rolled from shore to shore.
The deep-mouthed cannon's sullen roar.

The tramp of mail-clad men ;
I had been thinking of the days
When the fierce battle's lurid blaze

Hung like a fiery cloud
O'er rock and river, wood and dell,
Where now the radiant sunset fell

And I had left the crowd.
And sought, with hushed and reverent tread,
That pleasant city of the dead.

Where the wild wind-harps play.
And pine trees wave and willows weep.
Above her in her dreamless sleep.

The hapless Jane McCrea.

Silent, as if on holy ground,

I neared that angel-guarded mound,

Where white wings viewless wave ;
An aged man, with hoary hair,
And rude scars on his forehead bare,
Was kneeling in the sunset there.

Upon the maiden's grave.
Was it some risen chief I saw.
That o'er me came that breathless awe—

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178 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Was it some warrior bold ?
Whose hand had grasped the ringing steel,
Whose soul had thrilled to Freedom's peal,

In the wild strife of old ?

With sudden tears mine eyes grew dim,
Nearer I drew and questioned him

Of all the storied past ;
Of the fierce days when roused our sires

To the shrill trumpet's blast,
And the red light of battle fires

Upon our free hills lay ;
I asked him of the green arcade,
Where gleamed that savage chieftain's blade,
I asked of her, the Scottish maid,

The fated Jane McCrea !

Then did the veteran warrior speak.
And down his pale and furrowed cheek

The hot tears glistening ran ;
Then with the old fire flashed his eye.
His trembling tones rose clear and high,

And thus his tale began.

Part I.

The booming guns of Lexington
Had 'roused both gallant sire and son.
And louder than the trumpet's clang
The notes of wild alarum rang.
The dawning light of Freedom's star
Shone dimly in the skies afar.
Where veiled in the black night of war

The sun of peace went down.
And by that faint and flickering glow
The brave of heart and broad of brow

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Had boldly sworn they would not bow
1 o England's regal crown.

A thrill went through Columbia's soul
An alien sound went o'er the sea,
Majestic as an anthem's roll,

The Declaration of the free I
Earth s startled minions wondering heard
Britannia, to her proud heart stirred, '
Hurl d back the bold, defiant word
And drew ,n wrath her flaming sword •
Fiercely the hostile nations met '

And yonder sun in darkness set'
On many a fatal day •

'Vl-^i't"^^. ''■ ^^°°^ ^"d carnage din
Mid hissing balls the gray-haired sire
Fought with the youthful warrior's fire
In many a deadly fray;

Ih '""'S 'u^ 'f^ ^^^'^ fi^^O^ foru,
\lfl^ ^^^ ^"''°"s battle storm
When Burgoyne's haughty hosts
Breaking the waves with mighty svve^p
Came o'er the waters blue and deep
And landed on our coasts.

Clad in the battle's bright array.

And flaming banners spread
And arms that in the sunlight glanced
'w'^u'^? British ranks Id vanceS'
With slow and measured tread •
1 hen rose a swift and rushing sound
That woke the hills and shook the g ound
Then freemen fought and fell. '

The redder gushed the crimson flood.
Then was our land baptized in blood--

179

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180 7%« Burgoyne Ballads.

Of all the strife that followed then,
That thrilled the hearts of mighty men,
Ah me ! I may not tell !

The spirit of that warlike age

I feel its fires within me rage,

My bosom heaves, my old heart swells,

I feel it now, the evening bells

Ring out the dying day.
I hear the sound of martial strains,

I hear the war-horse neigh ;
I see the smoke of battle plains.
The swift blood courses through my veins,

I plunge into the fray.
I feel the scorching, burning blaze,
I live again those stirring days.

The days of Jane McCrea.

Part II.

'Twas morning. — Rich and radiant dyes
Flamed in the gorgeous orient skies ;^
Draped in the purple of his throne
The royal sun resplendent shone.
The broad, blue Hudson, blazing bright,
Glowed like a line of liquid light,
A wave of glory rippled o'er
The hills along the eastern shore,
And waving wood and fortress gray,
Blushing in rosy splendor lay.
Kissed by the red lips of the day.
And glittering spear and lances' gleam
Flashed back again the rising beam.

On the broad lands beyond the wood,
Now bright with' harvest sheaves.

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The Burgoyne Ballade. 181

The solid lines of Albion stood

As thick as forest leaves ;
Hot haste and consternation then
Spread through the ranks of our bravest men,
A clear blast rang throughout the glen,

Louder than hunter's horn,
And the quick tramp of hurrying feet,
The drum's deep bass that rapid beat,
The gathering din of swift retreat,

Rose on the summer morn.

From many a lowly woodland home
Went up the cry " The foe ! they come !"
And warm young hearts grew faint with fear,
And little children clustered near,

And blushing cheeks grew pale ;
And many a form with noiseless glide
Stole to the gallant warrior's side,
And fluttering garments, white and fair,
Were blent, in strange confusion there,

With coats of burnished mail.

Aside, that morn, from all the crowd,

In earnest thought her young head bowed,

The Scottish maiden stood,
With downcast face and lips apart,
A new joy thrilling in her heart,
That gave her cheeks a warmer glow.
And brought unto its stainless snow

The quick o'ermantling blood.
Thus stood she bound as by a spell.

Oh, in that hour how wondrous fair '
Around her like a glory fell

The rich veil of her raven hair.
The fearless spirit throbbing high
Lit up her clear, calm hazel eye,

182

The Burgoyne Ballads.

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And lent the face bowed meekly there
A beauty such as angels wear.

Oh, human love ! what strange divine,

What strange mysterious power is thine ;

It was thy light that inward shone

And bound her in its radiant zone ;

It was thy low, melodious lay

That charmed her soul from earth away,

Till mindless of the outward din

She only heard the voice within,

And listened to the silver tone.

That whispered of the chosen one

To whom her plighted troth was given,

Who filled her deepest heart with heaven !

By thee, a willing captive led.

The maiden knew no secret dread.

Nor felt a boding fear;
Nor heard the Indian's stealthy tread,

Nor saw the danger near.

A sudden shriek, a piercing cry.
That seemed to rend the bending sky.
Went up that morn so shrill and high,
It made the sternest soldier start,

And chilled and froze the circling blood,
And sent it curdling to his heart,

That still with terror stood ;
Then rose a wild demoniac yell,
A sound our brave men knew too well!

Each soul had felt the sickening fear,
Each hand had grasped the gleaming spear,
When on the air, distinct and clear.
The tramp of falling hoof drew near,

The Burgoyne Ballads.

183

And with thin nostrils spreading wide,
The ringing spur plunged in his side,
With headlong fury rushing fast,
A foaming courser darted past.
Ha ! 'twas the chieftain held the rein
And goaded on the steed amain,
And one, a gentle girl, was there,
With hazel eyes and flowing hair ;
Grasped in his sinewy arm, and press'd
Rudely upon his brawny chest.

The frail form helpless lay.
Alas ! for thee, thou captured maid.
Oh, that some hand thy doom had stayed.

Thou fated Jane McCrea !

A voice went up from mighty men,

A loud and stirring cry.
And the bold warrior shouted then,

" Mount ! to the rescue fly!"
They rose, a brave and gallant few.
And o'er the ground the swift steeds flew,

Winged with the lightning's speed ;
Till in that green and shady dell.
Where the clear waters sparkling well.
Where towers the tall and stately pine.
And the light falls with softer shine.
The savage gave a fiercer yell.

And reined his panting steed.
Forth from the leafy woodland shades

Leaped many a painted warrior's form,
And brightly glanced their murderous blades,

And wildly rose the battle's storm.
Hot balls hissed through the summer sheen.

And haughty plumes and crests bent low ;

184

the Burgoyne Ballads.

I '

Then darker grew the fearful scene,

And waves of blood surged to and fro.
Before the shower of fiery hail,
The chieftain saw his numbers fall ;
With ire his swarthy cheeks grew pale.
And turning from the fell strife there,

He stood by her, the Scottish maid.
He seized her long and flowing hair.

And o'er her gleamed his naked blade ;
And reeking from the tide of life.
Back flashed the long and glittering knife ;
A fiendish sneer upon his lip,

A strange wild triumph in his eye,
The chieftain saw the red blood drip.

And held the ghastly trophy high ;
Then round him drew his blanket-plaid,
And plunged into the forest shade.

The strong, stern man — the warrior true —
Felt in his eye the gathering dew.
When with hushed tread he nearer drew.

To the still form beneath the pine —
The maiden on the dewy green ;

For ne'er did morning sunlight shine
Upon a stranger, sadder scene.
The warm bright life-tide's crimson flow
Dyed deep her graceful garment's snow
And mingled with the waters clear.
That in the glad light sparkled near.

The heart that thrilled to love before,
To love's soft strain would thrill no more ;
The light of her young life had fled.
Too well they knew that she was dead ;
Yet better far thus to have died
Than to have been a Tory's bride.

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

Now oft besides that cooling spring,
The little children play and sing,

And in that sylvan dell
Full many a form of maiden grace
Treads lightly o'er the hallowed place

Where she, the fated, fell.

On Saratoga's battle plains,

Where low the British standard lay
1 he murdered maiden's gory stains.

In British blood were washed away
1 he glory of that triumph day

Avenged the death of Jane McCrea.

The old man paused; the trembling tones

That woke the bright unconscious teir.
^ad as the low wind's music moans.

Died on my rapt and listening'ear.
1 hen m the solemn evening time
When vesper bells had ceased to chime.

And all the quiet air
Was hushed, as if this world of ours
Had closer clasped the trees and flowers
And whispered peace through all her bowers

And bowed her heart in prayer ;
A hush upon my reverent soul,
An awe that o'er my being stole,

Mournful I turned away.
And left the worn old soldier there,
His white locks streaming in the air.
The dew upon his forehead bare,
And left the consecrated ground
Where holy memories clustered round
The grave of Jane McCrea.

185

186 The Burgoyne Ballads.

JANE McCREA.
By Henry William Herbert.*

It was brilliant autumn time —

The most brilliant time of all,
When the gorgeous woods are gleaming,

Ere the leaves begin to fall ;

* Henry William Herbert, author, born in London,
England, April 7th, 1807; died in New York City-
May 17th, 1858. His father. Rev. William Herbert,
was a cousin of the Earl of Carnarvon, the nephew of
Lady Harriet Ackland, the heroine, together with
Mrs. General Riedesel, of " Burgoyne's Campaign."
(See Stone's " Burgoyne's Campaign.") He graduated
at Oxford in 1829 with high honors; but having,
through the dishonesty of a trustee, lost his property,
he came the following year to the United States, sup-
porting himself for several years by teaching Greek
and Latin in Newark and New York. Meanwhile,
he added to his income by literary work for the differ-
ent magazines and newspapers, and finally attained to a
high degree of distinction as a writer. He wrote many
novels and books on the game of the United States,
under the nomde plume of Frank Forrester, all of which
were highly praised by the literary critics. During the
last twelve years of his life his home was near Belleville,
N. J., and he lived here, like Charles Lee of Revolu-
tionary fame, surrounded by his favorite dogs, of
which he was especially fond. His end was particu-
larly tragic, he having committed suicide by shooting
himself, after a dinner to which he had invited his
particular friends. A movement (1893) has been set
on foot to erect a monument to his memory. At

The Burgoyne BallutU.

187

When the maple boughs are crimson,
And the hickory shines like gold,

And the noons are sultry hot,
And the nights are frosty cold.

When the country has no green,

Save the sword-grass by the rill,
And the willows in the valley,

And the pine upon the hill ;
When the pippin leaves the bough,

And the sumach's fruit is red.
And the quail is piping loud

From the buckwheat where he fed.

When the sky is blue as steel,

And the river clear as glass ;
When the mist is on the mountain,

And the net-work on the grass ;
When the harvests all are housed.

And the farmer's work is done,
And the stubbles are deserted

For the fox-hound and the gun.

It was brilliant autumn time

When the army of the north,
With its cannon and dragoons.

And its riflemen, came forth ;
Through the country all abroad

There was spread a mighty fear
Of the Indians in the van,

And the Hessians in the rear.

present a plain stone marks his grave in the Mount
Pleasant Cemetery, and on it is carved, according to
his Wishes, the word Infelicissimus — a v rrd the signi-
fication of which is a most sad commentary on his life.

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188

T\e Burgoyne Ballads.

There was spread a mighty terror,

And the bravest souls were faint ;
For the shaven chiefs were mustered,

In their scalp-locks and their paint;
And the forest was alive —

And the tramp of warrior men
Scared the eagle from his eyry,

And the gray wolf from his den.

For the bold Burgoyne was marching—
With his thousands marching down,

To do battle with the people —
To do battle for the crown.

But Stark he lay at Bennington,
By the Hoosic's river bright,

And Arnold and his forces

Gathered thick on

Bemis' height.*

Fort Edward on the Hudson,

It was guarded night and day.
By Van Vechten and his woodmen —

Bright sturdy woodmen they !
Fort Edward on the Hudson,

It was guarded day and night,
Oh ! but in the early morning

It saw a bitter sight !

A bitter sight, and fearful.

And a shameful deed of blood!
All the plain was cleared around,

But the slopes were thick with wood ;
And a mighty pine stood there.

On the summit of the hill,

* For the correct spelling of the name of Bemis, see
Appendix No. III.

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The Burgoyne Ballads. 180

And a bright spring rose beneath it,
With a low and liqu'd trill ;

And a little way below,

All with vine boughs overrun,
A white-walled cot was sleeping —

There that shameful deed was done !
Oh ! it was the blithest morning

In the brilliant autumn time ;
The sun shone never brighter.

When the year was in its prime.

But a maiden fair was weeping

In that cottage day by day,
Woe she was and worn with watching

For her true love far away.
He was bearing noble arms,

Noble arms for England's king !
She was watching, sad and tearful,

Near the pine tree, near the spring !*

Weary waiting for his coming —
Yet she feared not ; for she knew

C\l

* Until 1855 there stood a clump of primeval giant
pines on the rise of a knoll just at the left of the
highway leading from Fort Edward to Sandy Hill,
N. Y., from the roots of which issued an unfailing spring.
By indisputable and unvaried tradition underneath
these pines the hapless Jane McCrea was massacred.
About this time Mr. George Harvey, the then owner
of this classic site, caused the last surviving pine to be
turned into canes, as souvenirs of this incident in the
Burgoyne campaign.

190 The Burgoyne Ballads.

That her lover's name would guard her,
That her lover's heart was true.

True he was ; nor did forget,

As he marched the wildwoods through,

Her to whom his troth was plighted
By the Hudson's waters blue*

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* Mrs. Rachael Ayrs Cook, widow of Ransom
Cook, who died at her home in Saratoga aged ninety-
two years, was one of the last surviving links that
bound the present with what was one of the most
romantic and decisive incidents of the American Revo-
lution. She was the daughter of Robert Ayrs, a Loy-
alist settler in what is now the town of Saratoga
Springs, about midway between this village and Ball-
ston. It was her father, Robert Ayrs, who carried the
message to Jennie McCrea in Fort Edward from her
Loyalist lover. Lieutenant David Jones, in Burgoyne's
army, encamped on the highlands to the north, re-
questing her to join him in the camp. It was while
Jennie was on her way to meet her lover that she was
tomahawked and scalped by the savage Iroquois chief
Le Loup, and that event led many of the Loyalist set-
tlers, including Robert Ayrs himself, to join the patriot
army under General Gates at Bemis Heights, and
materially aided in the defeat of Burgoyne. Robert
Ayrs continued to reside until his death on the farm
where his daughter, Mrs. Cook (who was the last sur*
vivor of his family), was born, and he is buried in the
old village cemetery at Ballston Spa. Her husband,
Ransom Cook, was the builder and first agent and
warden of the State prison at Dannemora. He was
also the inventor of the brace and bit, which brought
him and the family a large fortune.

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

He bethought him of the madness

And the fury of the strife ;
He bethought him of the peril

To that dear and precious life,
So he called an Indian chief,

In his paint and war-array —
Oh ! it was a cursed thought,

And it was a luckless day.

"]Go!" he said, "and seek my lady,

By Fort Edward, where she lies;
Have her hither to the camp !

She shall prove a worthy prize !"
And he charged him with a letter.

With a letter to his dear,
Bidding her to follow freely.

And that she should nothing fear

Lightly, brightly, rose the sun ;

High his heart, and full of mirth ;
Gray and gloomy closed the night ;

Steamy mists bedewed the earth.
Thence he never ceased to sorrow.

Till his tedious life was o'er —
For that night he thought to see her ;

But he never saw her more.

By the pine tree on the hill.

Armed men were at their post.
While the early sun was low,

Watching for the royal host.
Came a rifle's sudden crack !

Rose a wild and fearful yell !
Rushed the Indians from the brake !

Fled the guard, or fought and fell !

191

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192 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Fought and fell ! and fiercely o'er them

Rose the hideous death hallo !
One alone was spared of all —

Wounded he, and pinioned too !
He it was the deed that saw,

As he lay the spring beside —
Had his manly arms been free.

He had saved her, or had died !

Up the hill he saw them lead her,

And she followed free from fear —
And her beauty blazed the brighter,

As she deemed her lover near —
He could read the joyous hope

Sparkling in her sunny eyes —
Lo ! the sudden strife ! the rage !

They are battling for the prize !

Guns are brandished — knives are drawn !

Flashed the death-shot, flew the ball !
By the chief who should have saved her,

Did the lovely victim fall.
Fell, and breathed her lover's name,

Blessed him with her latest sigh,
Happier than he surviving,

Happier was she to die.

Then the frantic savage seized her

By the long and flow" '^air.
Bared the keen and dei *; «.nife.

Whirled aloft the tresses fair —
Yelled in triumph and retreated,

Bearing off" that t ophy dread —
Think of him who ^ent them forth !

Who received it — reeking red !

ssswfBP^srr'.!

T?ie Burgoyne Ballads.

He received it, cold as stone,

With a ghastly, stupid stare,
Shook not, sighed not, questioned not-

Oh ! he knew that yellow hair !
And he never smiled again.

Nor was ever seen to weep ;
And he never spoke to name her,

Save when muttering in his sleep !

Yet he did his duty well.

With a chill and cheerless heart ;
But he never seemed to know it,

Though he played a soldier's part.
Years he lived— for grief kills not—

But his very life was dead ;
Scarcely died he any more

When the clay was o'er his head !

Would ye further learn of her ?

Visit then the fatal spot !
There no monument they raised,

Storied stones they sculptured not ;
But the mighty pine is there —

Go, and ye may see it still,
Gray and ghostly, but erect.

On the summit of the hill ;

And the little fount wells out,

Cold and clear beneath its shade,
Cold and clear as when beside it

Fell that young and lovely maid.
These shall witness for the tale.

How, on that accursed day,
Beauty, innocence, and youth

Died in hapless Jane McCrea.

193

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194

The Burgoyne Ballads.

REFLECTIONS AT THE GRAVE OF JANE

McCREA*

And thus it is,
The bright and beautiful, and wise.
The puling youngster, and the gray-haired sage,
Manhood and youth, and infancy and age.
Alike yield up their struggling, passing breath —
Alike are subject to the grim fiend Death.

Alike, yet not alike,
For I wist not, that it is death to strike
The sudden blow, beneath some summer flower.
And then transplant it into soil more pure.
That it may waste its fragrant sweetness where
More rare exotics bloom and scent the air.

A lowly mound,
But marked from those that's gathered round,
By slab unstoried all, and neither tells
The name, nor worth, nor fame, of her that dwells
Beneath the sod, within the grave's dark gloom,
Our last-sought resting-place, and common doom.

She fell by hands
Of savage violence ; — the gleaming brands
Of war were gathered far, and near around
And seeking love she fell ; — the lover found
Was Death ; and in one long embrace.
With icy lips, he pressed her marble face.

Fort Edward, Nov. 5, 1842.

*The above lines were written for, and published in,
the Saratoga Sentinel at the date herein named. The
author is unknown.

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The Burgof/ne Ballads.

106

JANE McCREA.

Read on the One Hundredth Atmivo'sary of the
Massacre of Ja7te McCrca, July 27, 1877.

By Joseph E. King *

What is to-day— is only what hatli been,
" One touch of Nature makes us all akin."

Rev. Joseph E. Kmg was born in Laurens, Otsego
S?""u^>.^- Y- November 30th, 1823 ; the son of Rev.
Elijah King, a Methodist clergyman, and a member of
the old Genesee Conference.

At the age of thirteen, for a few months in a dry goods
store in Albany, he then rejoined the family, who
"went west," as far as Girard, Erie County, Pa., where
with an interval of a single term only in a select school'
he was kept at the business of clerking in the villao-e
store until the age of seventeen. At this period the desfre
tor better educational advantages so inflamed him that
he wrote to his parents an argument of four pages of
toolscap, which quite convinced them that he must be
permitted and encouraged to prepare for and o-q
through college. The preparation was at once begSn
at the Grand River Institute, Austinburgh, Ohio
whither the family moved, to make for him a home

The student, in 1843, entered Poultney Academy
N. Y., then under Rev. Jesse T. Peck (now Bishop)
to prepare for advanced standing in college. In 1844
admitted to the sophomore class in Wesleyan Univer-
sity, he took rank among the foremost of his class de-
spite the fact that he had to be absent each winter in
the Grammar School of Glastenbury, which he taught
In his senior year he was elected to the Phi Beta

n i

106 The Burgoyne Ballade.

Love well befits the poet's lofty rhyme,
No fairer blossom on the trees of Time.

Kappa, graduating from Wesleyan in 1847, in the
class which produced Orange Judd, Senator Cole, of
California, and Bishop Andrews.

In 1848 he was made principal of the seminary at
Newbury, Vt. Though among his predecessors had
been such men as Rev. Doctors Hinman, Adams and
Hoyt, and Bishop Osman C. Baker, yet during the
reign of Professor King this seminary enjoyed its
highest intellectual and financial prosperity. He paid
its debts, reconstructed its chapel and class-rooms,
built its public fountain, and brought the roll of its
adult students up to 325 in attendance at the time of
his retiring in November, 1853.

Accepting a call to his native State, he assumed the
principalship of Fort Plain Seminary, N. Y., and in
November, 1853, five days after his term closed at New-
bury, he opened its first term — all its rooms filled with
students. During this year at Fort Plain, beside the
lecturing of his position, his register shows that he
preached 59 times in 23 different pulpits.

It being in contemplation to erect at Fort Edward
an institution on a grander scale than any existing
boarding seminary, the principal of Fort Plain Semi-
nary was invited to visit the town, with a view to give
his advice in the proposed enterprise. In connection
with Rev. Henry B. Taylor he matured the plans, as-
sisted at the laying of the corner-stone in May, 1854,
and was induced to assume the principalship of Fort Ed-
ward Institute for a term of loyears. December 7, 1854,
he opened the first term with 500 students in attend-
ance, and during the 23 years of its subsequent history
he has been its sole principal, registering over 10,000

■

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Trampled and bruised, its fragrance yet appears
Despite the havoc of a hundred years !

197

different names, hailing from over 33 of the States of
the Union. Many of his students have taken conspic-
uous places among the successful men and women of
this generation. Over 100 of his students joined in
thevvar for maintaining the Union, of whom 18 gave
their lives that the nation might not die. A few of
his young men also fought on the Confederate side.
He has sent out 165 clergymen of the various denomi-
nations, of whom already 1 2 have become Doctors of
Divinity. The lawyers and physicians have been
almost as numerous.

In 1862 Union College conferred the degree of
D.D. upon Professor King, and in 1873 the Regents
of the University of New York, in recognition of his
efficiency as an educator, conferred upon him the
degree of Ph.D.

In the discharge of his duties as principal of Fort
Edward Institute, he has lectured before the faculty
and students over 300 times, and has found leisure to
deliver outside the walls of the Institute 210 lectures
and addresses, besides having preached 1032 sermons
in 182 different pulpits. From the sessions of the
conference of clergymen of which he is a member, he
has never been absent for a day. In 1864 he was
elected by his brethren a delegate to the General
Conference of the M. E. Church at Philadelphia,
having also enjoyed the honor of serving as a delegate
to the General Conference of 1856, representing the
Vermont Conference, from which he was transferred
to the Troy Conference, on a vote of that conference
requesting it. For two weeks he served as acting
delegate in the General Conference at Chicago, in 1868.

198 The Burgoyne Ballads.

We greet with reverent tenderness to-day
The fond and true, the martyr'd Jane McCrea.

Behold the picture — blond and passing fair,
With twenty summers in her golden hair,
The winsome graces of old Scotia's blood
Blooming afresh in her bright maidenhood.
To see her was to love, and one that saw
Deemed it no violence to Nature's law
To woo and win her as his promised bride.
Elect to him o'er all the world beside.

Once he has been called upon to address the Alumni
of his college, once to deliver the oration before the
convention of Psi Upsilon — his college fraternity — and
twice to deliver the annual poem at Psi Upsilon
conventions.

In 1867 he gave himself a special vacation of about
three months abroad; again in 1889, chiefly in the
British Isles, France and Belgium.

By way of recreation from the severer routine of
his educational and spiritual tasks, he enjoys helping
with his presence and counsels the various institutions
and corporations in which he takes an interest. Be-
sides being a working trustee in Fort Edward Institute,
he is also a trustee or a director in the following cor-
porations: Wesleyan University, Syracuse Univer-
sity, Round Lake Camp Meeting Association, Me-
chanicville Academy, the Union Cemetery Associa-
tion, the National Bank of Fort Edward, two banks
in Iowa, and the Glens Falls Insurance Association.

He aims to set the example to his young men of
rarely being absent from the primary meetings of his
political party, from the home councils of his church
or the convocations of his fellow-workers in the cause
of education.

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The Burgoyne Ballads. 199

What though the fates, unequal or malign,

Had cast his lot within the 13ritish line ?

Can love be gauged by rules of trade or war?

Not Mercury or Mars is man's true ruling star;

When Venus rises, turns each heart to her.

Savage or saint, a willing worshipper.

The patriot maiden pledged her willing troth

To country and to lover — true to both —

And felt no discord in her evening prayer

That heaven the one might bless, the oihtx spare.

Nor may we blame our heroine of yore,

If not the less our cause, she loved her hero more.

A message comes : " Why should this dreadful strife
Rob me of mine ? Thou art my promised wife ?
The guide is safe, thou'lt reach the camp ere night,
Then I'll protec! thee in a husband's right."

Between two camps, awaiting mortal strife.
Why need she fear ? Love bears a charmed life.
Coyly emerging from yon mansion's side.
With springing step she joined the savage guide.
Girt for the perils of the path she trod.
In maiden innocence and faith in God.
The breeze, fair girl, that fans your cheek to-day
Toyed with her tresses on her blithesome way ;
The bee saluted with his tiny horn,
Waved in the noontide rays the tasselled corn ;
The flowers grew brighter underneath her tread.
Bluer the arching sky above her head.

The hill was gained. Sudden, the startled guide
Clutched at the girl, now trembling at his side.
A skirmish rages from the opposing lines.
And maddened chiefs contend beneath the pines.
In vain she seeks to flee ! A fatal blow
Pierces her brain. And then the fiendish foe,

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The Burgoyne Ballads

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As sinks the wretched maiden limp and dead,
Tears off the golden glory from her fallen head !
A thousand curses on that savage hate,
To murder first, and then to mutilate !
Plead beauty, youth and innocence, that day,
But plead in vain for hapless Jane McCrea.
The ruthless fiend, his task yet incomplete,
Dashed down the bloody trophy at her lover's feet.
Unpitying Indian! Heaven shall pay thee back.
Its heavy vengeance marks henceforth thy track.
Pushed ever towards the still receding west
Thy wasting tribes shall plead in vain for rest.

For her, what heart withholds a votive sigh ?
Poor trampled ilower that in the dust doth lie !
Denied her woman's rightful place in life,
To rule her home, a proud and happy wife.
Yet Heaven doth martyred innocence befriend.
And in her fadeless fame a compensation send.
How many gallant youths rushed forth to join
The patriot ranks, and crush the proud Burgoyne !
Ten thousand men, at Saratoga's day,
Struck home for "liberty and Jane McCrea."
Had love coursed smoothly o'er life's pebble stones,
Long since forgot, as ''Mrs. David Jones "
Forgot, with every other humble name.
That time erases from the lists of fame.
Now, all the world beholds, serene and fair,
'Graved in the azure of the upper air.
And reads in capitals of flame to-day
One only name, the gentle Jane McCrea.
And David Jones, forsooth, despite his British pride,
Gains fadeless laureh- through his Yankee bride.
They're gone ! all gone ! in vain we search around
Where armies trampled this historic ground ;

(

The Burgoyne Ballads. 201

Fields rent and scarred by war retain no trace,
Which Time's all-lev'ling touch cannot efface.
Of yonder fort, which saw a nation's birth.
Remains alone a ridge of common earth.
Still flows the rippling river to the sea,
The type of loving woman's constancy ;
And on its banks do other forts arise,
Churches and schools, the States' best armories.

Nigh to our martyrs' monumental stone
Is ''trysting tree" to village youths well known ;
'Tis there, when lovers plight their sacred troth.
Her guardian presence comes to bless them both.

The hillside pines which saw her fall that day

Themselves have fallen, victims of decay ;

But from their roots there flows a living spring.

Whose clear, cool waters, gently murmuring

In sweet and mournful cadence, seem to say.

Here fell the fair and fond but hapless Jane McCrea.

THE TRAGICAL DEATH OF MISS JANE

McCREA,

Who was scalped and inhumanly butchered by a scout-
ing party of Burgoyne' s artny on his way toward
Albany,

By Rev. Wheeler Case.

As I was passing thro* a certain wood

I heard a doleful noise ; surpris'd I stood —

I lent a list'ning ear — but oh, what moans !

The woods all rang with shrieks and dying groans.

Upon a rising ground I cast my eye

And saw a scouting party passing by,

Some British troops, combined with Indian bands,

With swords, with knives and tom'hawks in their hands.

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202

The Burgoyne Ballads.

They gave a shout and pass'd along the road,

Like beasts of prey in quest of human blood.

I mov'd along where I had heard the cries,

And lo ! a bloody scene salutes my eyes ;

Here lies an aged man, roll'd in his gore,

And from his hoary head his scalp is tore.

There lies a woman dead, all gashed her face,

A sucking babe just dropp'd from her embrace.

There lies the slaughter'd infant on a clod.

Its head all bruis'd and face besmear'd with blood.

As I advanc'd along, before me lay

A lady richly dress'd, her name McCrea ;

Stretch'd on the ground, and struggling there with

death.
She cannot live, she must resign her breath.
The cursed Indian knife, the cruel blade,
Had cut her scalp, they'd tore it from her head ;
The blood is gushing forth from all her veins,
With bitter groans and sighs she tells her pains.
Is this that blooming fair, is this McCrea f
This was appointed for her nuptial day.
Instead of smiles, and a most brilliant bride.
Her face besmear'd with blood, her raiment dyed.
Instead of pleasure and transporting joys.
There's naught but dying groans and bitter sighs ;
For, overwhelm'd with grief, alas ! I faint ;
It is too much for language e'er to paint.
Would heav'n admit of tears her rev'rend sire*
Would now look down and o'er her drop a tear ;
A flood of tears down from his eyes would flow
O'er his dear child, touch'd with her fatal woe.
Methinks he now attempts to speak — too full.
With sighs he tells the anguish of his soul.

* The Rev. Mr. McCrea of New Jersey.

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

203

In broken accents now I hear him say,

Is this the plant I raised ? Is this McCrca ?

Is this my Jenny roll'd in blood I see,

Whom I caress'd and dandled on my knee ?

If e'er she was in pain I felt the smart,

If but her finger ach'd, it pained my heart,

But now she's mangled with the Indian knife,

With groans and sighs she's breathing out her life.

Oh, cruel savages ! what hearts of steel !

Oh, cruel Britons who no pity feel !

Where did they get the knife, the cruel blade ?

From Britain it was sent where it was made.

The tom'hawk and the murdering knife were sent

To barb'rous savages for this intent.

Yes, they were sent e'en from the British throne.

Is this for acts of duty I have done ?

How oft have I address'd the throne of Grace

For Britain's king and all his rising race !

How oft with tears, that God would be their friend.

That peace and happiness might them attend !

No fiction this, the muse hath seen him stand
With eyes erect, and with uplifted hands
Within the sacred desk ; she'd heard him plead
For Britain s king and all the royal seed ;
How oft, with earnest cries and flowing tears,
For blessings on the king and all his heirs.

t. f

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JANE McCREA.

By Joel Barlow.*

One deed shall tell what fame great Albion draws
From those auxiliars in her bar'brous cause —

*Joel Barlow, author, born in Redding, Conn.,
March 24th, 1 754 ; died near Cracow, Poland, Dccem-

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204

The Burgoyne Ballads.

\K\

Lucinda's fate. The tale ye nations hear ;
Eternal ages trace it with a tear.

[In searching for her lover, who is designated by
the name oi Heartly in the narrative, and from whom
she has become separated, she strays into the woods,
and he in turn begins a search for her.]

He hurries to his tent ; oh, rage ! despair !
No glimpse, no tidings of the frantic fair ;
Save that some car-men, as a-camp they drove,
Had seen her coursing for the western grove.
Faint with fatigue, and chok'd with burning thirst,
Forth from his friends with bounding leap he burst,
Vaults o'er the palisade, with eyes on flame.
And fills the welkin with Lucinda's name.

ber 24th, 181 2. Graduated from Yale in 1778, deliver-
ing the commencement poem, " Prospect of Peace"
(published in "American Poems," Litchfield, Conn.,
1793). In 1787 he published at Hartford his epic
poem, "The Vision of Columbus," which made him
famous, and afterward his most popular poem, the
" Hasty Pudding." He was United States Consul at
Algiers in 1795. He resided afterward for eight
years at Paris, living the life of a man of letters, and
writing there his poem, " The Columbiad," and making
extensive preparations for a history of the American
Revolution and one work on the French Revolution.
He was also, like Freneau, one of the most prolific and
famous writers of the Revolutionary period. He
introduces the subject of the Jane McCrea massacre
as above, presenting Jane McCrea under the name of
" Lucinda." In a note accompanying the poem, the
author states that the tragical story of Miss McCrea is
narrated almost literally.

The Burgoyne Ballads. 205

The fair one, too, of every aid forlorn,
Had raved and wandered, till officious morn
Awaked the Mohawks from their short repose,
To glean the plunder ere their comrades 'rose.
Two Mohawks met the maid— historian, hold !
Alas ! that such a tale should e'er be told.

She starts — with eyes upturn'd and fleeting breath.
In their raised axes views her instant death.
Her hair, half lost along the shrubs she passed.
Rolls in loose tangles 'round her lovely waist ;
Her kerchief torn betrays the globes of snow,'
That heave responsive to her weight of woe.

With calculating pause and demon grin

They seize her hands, and through her face divine

Drive the descending axe !— The shriek she sent

Attained her lover's ear ; he thither bent

With all the speed his wearied limbs could yield,

Whirled his keen blade, and stretched upon the field

The yelling fiends, who there disputing stood

Her gory scalp, their horrid prize of blood 1

He sank, delirious on her lifeless clay.

And passed in starts of sense, the dreadful day.

LINES ON JANE McCREA.

By Mrs. Sarah J. Hale.*

Oh ! very beautiful was she,
A loveliness most rare to see.

*Mrs. Sarah Josepha Hale, authoress, born in New-
port, N. H., October 24th, 1788; died in Philadelphia

206

The Burgoyne Ballads.

■ if

Her eyes were like the ethereal hue
From Chimborazo's skyward view,
When stars begin to tremble through,
And not a vapor dims the blue ;
And clustering curls of soft blonde hair*
Around her throat and shoulders flow,
Like morning light on mountain snow ;
And face so delicately fair !

April 30th, 1879. She edited the Ladies' Magazine,
in Boston, which she conducted till 1837. ^^ that
year it was united with Godeys Ladys Book, pub-
lished in Philadelphia, and Mrs. Hale became editor
of that periodical, removing to that city in 1841. She
was chiefly instrumental in raising funds to complete the
Bunker Hill Monument, and also in bringing about
the change of Thanksgiving Day from a State festival
to a National one — President Lincoln being the first
one to adopt her suggestion, in 1864. She is the
author of many works and poems, among the latter
of which are the well-known ones of " Mary's Lamb"
and " It Snows."

* Although Jenny's hair was said to have been
" dark as a raven's wing," yet she has also been de-
scribed by those who knew her as " a young woman of
fine commanding form, rare beauty, delicate blonde
complexion, and glossy, golden-brown hair of silken
lustre and of unusual length." The weight of evidence
and the probabilities, it must be said, are largely in
favor of the description as above quoted. Nor must
it be forgotten that Jenny was of pure Scotch blood,
and the Scotch are noted the world over for their fair
complexion, blue eyes, and light hair. Mrs. Hale is,
therefore, probably entirely correct in describing her
as a blonde.

iOHM

The Burgoyne Ballads.

207

Tvvas like a lily newly blown,
Or like the breathing Parian stone,
Softened by a heart within,
Sending love-light through the skin !
Ay ! the soul's transparent vase
Seemed that pure, pale, loving face.

1 :

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BALLADS ON THE BATTLE OF ORISEANY.

ORISKANY.

By General J. Watts de Peyster*

Old Seventeen hundred and Seventy-seven,
Of Liberty's throes, was the crown and the leaven.
Just a century since, August Sixth, was the day
When Great Britain's control was first stricken away.
Let us sing then the field where the Yeomen of York
Met the Lion and Wolf on their slaughterous stalk ;
When Oriskany's ripples were crimson'd with blood ;
And when strife fratricidal polluted its flood.
Oh, glorious collision, forever renowned !
While America lives should its praises resound,
And stout Harkeimer's name be the theme of the song,
Who with Mohawk's brave sons broke the strength
of the strong.

To relief of Fort Stanwix New Yorkers drew nigh.
To succor stout Gansevoort, conquer or die ;
And if unwise the counsels that brought on the fight,
In the battle was shown that their hearts were all right.
If their chief seemed so prudent that " subs" looked

askance,
Still one shout proved their feeling, their courage —

" Advance !"
Most unfortunate counsel ! The ambush was set,
Leaving one passage in but none oui of the net, —
Of outlets, not one, unless 'twas made by the sword,
Through encompassing ranks of the pitiless horde.

* For sketch of General de Peyster, see Appendix

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

209

Sure never was column so terribly caught,
Nor ever has column more fearlessly fought : —
Thus Harkeimer's Mohawkers made victory theirs,
For St. Leger was foiled in spite of his snares.

The loud braggarts who'd taunted Harkcimer so free,
Ere the fight had begun, were from fight first to flee;
While the stalwart old chief, who a father had proved,
And his life offered up for the cause that he loved,
'Mid the war-whirl of Death still directed each move,
'Mid the rain from the clouds and from more fatal

groove
Of the deadlier rifle, — and object assured,
To him Palm, both as victor and martyr, inured.

Search the annals of War and examine with care
If a parallel fight can discovered be, there,
When eight hundred green soldiers beset in a wood
Their assailants, as numerous, boldly withstood ;
And while death sleeted in from environing screens

Of the forest and underbrush, Indians and "Greens"

'Gainst the circle without, took to cover within,
Formed a circle as deadly — which as it grew thin
Into still smaller circles then broke, until each
Presented a I'otmd that no foeman could breach,

Neither boldest of savage nor disciplined troops:

Thus they fought and they fell in heroical groups—
But though falling still fighting they wrench'd from

the foe
The great object they marched to attain, and altho'
The whole vale of the Mohawk was shrouded in woe,
Fort Stanwix was saved by Oriskany's throe.

No New Birth, no advance in the Progress of Man,
Has occurred since the tale of his suft'rings began.
Without anguish unspeakable, deluge of bloodT

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210

TTie Burgoyne Ballads.

The Past's buried deep 'neath incarnadine flood.
So, wlien, at Oriskany, slaughter had done
Its fell work with the tomahawk, hunting-knife, gun ;
From the earth soaked with blood, and the whirlwind

of fire
Rose the living's reward and the fallen's desire.
Independence!

For there on Oriskany's shore.
Was fought out the death-wrestle deciding the war !

If our country is free and its flag, first displayed
On the ramparts of Stanwix, in glories arrayed ;
If the old " Thirteen Colonies" won the renown
''Sic semper tyrannis /" beat Tyranny down ;
There, there, at Oriskany, the wedge first was driven.
By which British invasion was splintered and riven,
Though at Hoosic and " Saratog" the work was com-
pleted.
The end was made clear with St. Leger defeated ;
Nor can boast be disproved, on Oriskany's shore'
Was worked out the grim problem involved in the
war.

3. PIc Sdjiadjt won 0n0kani|.

By Gen. J. Watts db Pktster.
3n8 Seutfi^e flbctfcfet ccn 9K art e i8 1 6 b t.

When through dense woods primeval

bower'd,
A perfect hail of bullets ehower'd,
Where bold Thayendanega tower'd—
Good old Harkeimer prov'd no coward,
Commanding at Oriskany.

True to his Teuton lineage,
Foremost amidst the battle's rage,
As bold in fight, in council sage,
Most glorious as he quit the stage
Of life, by the Oriskany.

3(18 but(^ keg UrnalfcS laub'jen (Sans
Qlnft pranclnb jtugclregen fctang —
Sffic X^a^cnbanega'S iRu^m etHang —
33a loatb au* J&arfeimcr ni(^t bang',
2)cm gflbwt Bon DriSfanp.

Iteu bem tcutoniW=efcIcn SSIut
Sctan tn bc8 ©cfcd^teS S!Butb#
3ni fflat^e tlug, im ffampf »ca mvXc,
Unb rubmrctf^, ba e» enblid; tu^t
S8om iSu-eite bet Orl8(an9.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

211

Altho' he felt the mortal wound.
Though fell In Bwathes his xoldicrs round,
ProppVl 'gainst his Paddlf, on the proiinil,
He calmly Bmok'd, gave roun»el Hound,
'Mid war-whirl at Oriekany.

War never fiercer slpht has seen
Than when Sir JohnHon'g cohort green
Charg'd on the Mohawk Rangers keen :
The Bole such strife Almanza* 'd been
As that on the Orlskany.

New York's bold yeomen. Watts at head,
Breasted meet foes— New Yorkers bred,
There, eye to eye, they fought, stabb'd,

bled,
BoEom to bosom strove, fell dead
In ambush of Orlskany.

Alone can Berwick's shudder tell,
What fury rul'd that moment fell
When Frenchman's steel hiss'd French-
man's knell :
Horrent made the sole parallel
To battle of Orlskany.

Teeth with like frantic fnry set.
There Frank died on Frank's bayonet-
Here neighbor death from neighbor

met,—
With kindred blood both fields were wet,
Almanza and Orlskany.

And, ceas'd the storm whose rage had

vie<l.
With ruthless shock of fratricide,
There lay the Mohawk Valley's pride
Just as they fought, st^rk, side by side.
Along the red Orlskany.

Though neither force conid triumph claim
In war's dread, da/.zling, desp'rate game.
Enkindled there, the smoukl'ring flame
Of freedom blaz'd, to make thy name
All glorious, Orlskany.

(Jt fa6 flflrcfftn, tofceSmunb,
ein ft«t sen Icbttn urn iljn runb,
3ni Sattel aiiffleflfl^t am C«runb,
0a6 taud)(nb iKot^, ber rcmjcfunb,
3"! Sri«a8=S»urm »on CriStan?.

9!ic f*Iu3 <ln ©«r fo griminiji b'reln,
SII8 ba e»t 3o()nfon« fltttne i)ieli)'n,
SSilb braitflen auf bic ajJobarctS ctn I
08 fann Wlmanja'B* Strdl aUeln
et* mefftn tnit Ori«tan?.

9?etr.??otf«t CanbBolf jicbt InS ^elb
«cn asatts aefObtt uitb bl*t gcfcat,
Tctl SPrufl an iBtufJ \\m ffampf geflcUt,
5Kan* eln 9?(»«?)otfet blutcnb flUt
3in iSotfjalt eon OriStanp.

SRur iBerrcii'S @(^aub« fagt eg Hat,
aSie ((»au8 bet Stafl be8 ScbretfenS mar,
Da granjmann f*Iufl ble eij'n* Sd^aat,
portent nut bo» eln ®lei*e8 bar,
aCie bie Si^lae^t »on OtiStanij.

$ier 3a«>n um 3a^n, gtei* jotnentbtannt,
®er Stanjmann patb bur* ftlnff^e ftanb,
Der iKa*6ar fiel, wo SHa^bar ftanb,
Unb SBrubetMut burdjnilt ben Sanb,
iSlmanja unb DrtSfanp.

Unb al8 beS StutmeS Jcben tu^it,
Der a3tub«rmotb entfa^t mit aSut^,
Sag SDJel^aaf IbaleS ©tclj tm SBIut,
ISi^t tete fie fo*ten, flart unb gut,
S&nge bem totl^tn Orlgtani?.

Ob flclnem tnatb beS SlegeS 3lel
3m wlttcn SlampfeS ©^auetfplel,
Tier gretftelt glamme, ble eerficl,
(Stflanb unb ma*te ru^mrei* elel
Ten SRamen son DtiSfanp,

!' I

• CDle @*Ia*t Bcn Sllmanja, auf »el*e blcr Sejug genommen mlrb, fanb 1707 jmlftben ben
IruppenSubmlgg XIV. unlet bem gtaufamcn §et8cg eon Setml* gegen ble (Samlfatben unlet
uabaliet fiatt.

rial

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BALLADS ON THE BATTLE OF ORISKANY.

PiEAN TO ORISKANY.
By Rev. Charles Downes Helmer, D.D.

Beleaguered men of Stanwix, brave as those
Who faced a million of their foes

At old Thermopylae ;
Good cheer to you upon the wild frontier!
For citizens in arms draw near

Across Oriskany.

But hark ! amidst the forest shades the crash
Of arms, the savage yell — with flash

Of gory tomahawk ;
For Johnson's Royal-Greens, and Leger's men,
And Brant's Red Fiends, are in that glen

Of dark Oriskany.

From down the valley, where the Mohawk flows.
Were hurrying on to meet their foes

The patriot yeomanry ;
For Gansevoort within his fortress lay,
In peril and besieged that day,

Beyond Oriskany.

As men who fight for home and child and wife,
As men oblivious of life

In holy martyrdom,

The Burgoyne Ballads.

213

The Yeomen of the Valley fought that day,
Throughout thy fierce and deadly fray —
Blood-red Oriskany.

From rock and tree and clump of twisted brush
The hissing gusts of battle rush —

Hot breathed and horrible !
The roar, and smoke, like mist on stormy seas,
Sweep through thy splintered trees —

Hard-fought Oriskany.

Heroes are born in such a chosen hour;
From common men they rise and tower,

Like thee, brave Herkimer !
Who wounded, steedless, still beside the beech
Cheered on thy men, with sword and speech.

In grim Oriskany.

Now burst the clouds above the battle roar,
And from the pitying skies down pour

Swift floods tumultuous ;
Then fires of strife unquenched flame out again,
Drenching with hot and bloody rain

Thy soil, Oriskany.

But ere the sun went toward the tardy night.
The valley then beheld the light

Of freedom's victory ;
And wooded Tryon snatched from British arms
The empire of a million farms —

On bright Oriskany.

The guns of Stanwix thundered to the skies ;
The rescued wilderness replies ;

Forth dash the garrison !
And routed Tories, with their savage aids,
Sink reddening through the sullied shades —

From lost Oriskany.

VII

■41

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214 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Behold, Burgoyne! with hot and hating eyes,
The New World's flag at last o'erflies

Your ancient Heraldry;
For over Stanwix floats triumphantly
The rising Banner of the Free —

Beyond Oriskany.

A hundred years have passed since then ;
And hosts now rally there again —

lb crown the century ;
The proud posterity of noble men
Who conquered in the bloody glen

Of farned Oriskany.

¥.

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BALLADS ON THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON.

ODE ON THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON.

By Rev. E. H. Chapin, D.D.*

They came, as brave men ever come.
To stand, to fight, to die ;

* Rev. Edwin Hubbell Chapin, a distinguished
Universalist clerjjyman of New York, and the pas-
tor of Horace Greeley, was born at Union Village,
Washington County, N. Y., and died in New York
City, December 27th, 1880. He received his early
training at the Bennington, Vt., Seminary, and after-
ward studied law in Troy, N. Y. Subsequently
he removed to Utica, and became editor of T/ie
Magazine and Advocate, a periodical devoted to
the interests of the Universalists. He afterward
studied for the ministry, and was ordained in 1837,
His first settlement was at Richmond, Va. ; and in
1848 he was installed as pastor in the Fourth Uni-
versalist Church in New York City. Dr. Chapin was
long one of the most prominent of metropolitan
preachers, and his church soon became one of the
most noted in the city, and to which " throngs of both
church-goers and non-church-goers resorted whenever
it was known that he would speak." He was also a
very popular public lecturer, and his services were in

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216 The Burgoyne Ballads.

No thoug^ht of fear was in the heart

No quailing in the eye ;
If the lip faltered, 'twas with prayer,

Amid those gatherinp^ bands ;
For the sure rifle kept its poise

In strong, untrembling hands.

They came up, at the battle-sound.

To old Walloomsack's height ;
Behind them were their fields of toil,

With harvest promise white ;
Before them those who sought to wrest

Their hallowed birthright dear.
While through their ranks went fearlessly

Their leader's words of cheer.

h i

constant demand. As his biographer, in " Appleton's
Biographical Cyclopccdia," justly says, " His denomi-
national religious associations were with the Univer-
salists, but his sympathies were of the broadest
character, and he numbered among his personal
friends many of the stanchest advocates of orthodoxy,
who could not but admire his eloquence, however
much they may have dissented from his religious
teaching." In 1872 he succeeded Dr. Emerson in
the editorship of the Christian Leader. He was
quite a voluminous writer, and with James G. Adams
as his associate, he compiled " Hymns for Christian
Devotion" (1870).

The above ode is selected from some sta.izas on the
battle of Bennington in 1837, and delivered by him
in the Old Academy in Bennington Centre. They
were also published in Rev. Isaac Jennings's admirable
work, " Memorials of a Century" (Boston, 1S69).

The Burgoyne Ballads. 217

" My men, there are our freedom's foe,

And shall they stand or fall ?
Ye have your weapons in your hands.

Ye know your duty all ;
For we—this day we triumph o'er

The minions of the crown,
Or Molly Stark's a widowed one

Ere yonder sun goes down." *

One thought of heaven, one thougiit of home.

One thought of hearth and shrine.
Then, rock-like, stood they in their might

Before the glittering line.
A moment, and each keen eye paused

The coming foe to mark.
Then downward to his barrel glanced,

And strife was wild and dark.

It needs no monumental pile

To tell each storied name,
The fair green hills rise proudly up

To consecrate their fame.
True to its trust, Walloomsack long

The record bright shall bear,
Who came up at the battle sound

And fought for freedom there.

* This is in allusion to the tradition that on the eve
of the battle, just as the orders were given and the
combatants were about to engage, General Stark, in
his saddle, pomting in the direction of the enemv
made this laconic address : " Boys, these are the
Red-coats ; and they are ours, or this nkhit Molly
Stark sleeps a widow !"

I A

218

The Burgoyne Ballads.

THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON.

By William Cullen Bryant.*

{On the occasion of the centennial of the battle of B '"rton.)

On this fair valley's grassy breas
The calm, sweet rays of summer rest,
And dove-like peace benignly broods
On its smooth lawns and solemn woods.

* William Cullen Bryant, distinguished journalist
and poet, born in Cummington, Mass., November 3d,
1794; died in New York, June 12th, 1878. Of dis-
tinguished colonial ancestry, he early developed poeti-
cal power, and began at an early age to write short
epic and satirical verses for the local newspapers and
magazines, especially the Hampshire Gazette, although
he was at the same time pursuing the study of the law.
In his eighteenth year he composed his immortal
poem " Thanatopsis," the inspiration of which was
given him while wandering through the primeval
forests of his native State. After being admitted
to the bar, he removed to Great Barrington, Mass.
He continued, however, his literary efforts, contrib-
uting, meanwhile, to the North American Review,
and in 1825 removed to New York City, becoming
assistant editor of the New York Review and Athe-
naeum Magazine. Finally he became the editor-in-
chief, with a part ownership, of the New York Even-
ing Post, with which influential newspaper he was iden-
tified until his death. Although a bitter Democrat,
yet upon the opening of the Civil War he laid all
partisanship aside, and with true patriotism warmly
espoused the cause of the United States.

mmimmBmmt

The Burgoym Ballads.

A century since, in flame and smoke,
The storm of battle o'er it broke,
And ere the invader turned and fled.
These pleasant fields were strewn with dead.
Stark, quick to act and bold to dare.
And Warner's mountain band were there •
And Allen, who had flung the pen
Aside to lead the Berkshire men.
With fiery onset— blow on blow—
They rushed upon the embattled foe,"
And swept his squadrons from the vale.
Like leaves before the autumn gale.
Oh, never may the purple stain
Of combat blot these fields again,
Nor this fair valley ever cease
To wear the placid smile of peace !
Yet here, beside that battle-field.
We plight the vow that, ere we yield
The rights for which our fathers bled.
Our blood shall steep the ground we tread.
And men will hold the memory dear
Of those who fought for freedom here,
And grand the heritage they won
While their green hill-sides feel the sun.

THE BATTLE OF BENNINGTON.

By Mrs. Julia Fay Waldenburg.*
TwAS the eve of that glorious battle morn.
On Vermon t's green mountains, in splendor born !

! ■
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All
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* Julia Fay Waldenburg, daughter of George Barron

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220

The Burgoyne Ballads.

t I

Down from the frowning clouds, the rain

In torrents fell over hill and plain ;

It bent the trees and the golden grain,

Beating the roof and the window pane,

While the lightning danced on the mountains far

And the thunder boomed like the guns of war!

Crowning a hill in Bennington town.

Stood a low-browed tavern, broad and brown,

With a novel sign, whose like I ween

In book of heraldry ne'er was seen :

'Twas a catamount, swung from a sapling slight,

Looking alive, as its teeth gleamed w^hite !

When the light from the lonely lantern flared

At the open doorway, its wild eyes glared.

And it seemed through the gloom to keep its watch,

The Hessian or "Yorker" foe to catch !

Within the inn, from the candles tall,

A soft light shone o'er the rooms and hall,

And lingered in many a silvery line

On the carven wainscot of native pine ;

On the musket, and pictures upon the wall ;

O'er the white-haired landlord, grave and tall ;

Fay and Catherine Strong ; born at Albany, N. Y., of
Revolutionary stock ; a great-granddaughter of Captain
John Strong, of Pittsfield, Mass., on lie maternal side,
and great-granddaughter of Dr. Jonas Fay, of Benning-
ton, Vt. ; the latter was a son of Stephen Fay, Secretary.
of Council of Safety and surgeon under Ethan Allen
She has written considerably in prose and verse — a
volume of poems published by Joel Munsell in 1878 —
and has been at different periods foreign correspondent
of the Albany Argtis. Married in 1881 Mr. William
Waldenburg, of Brooklyn, and has three children.

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

221

On the stalwart forms, that were moving there,

With speech and counsel, oath and prayer.

Here the Council of Safety held their court.

Sentenced the " Tories" with session short,

And framed the laws with a loyal zeal,

Enforced with the stamp of the famed " Beech seal,"*

Vermont's brave sons undaunted, true

As the emerald hills before their view !

Allen the fearless, rough, unmoved ;

Warner the Ranger's colonel loved ;

Robinson, Chittenden, Baker, Fay,

Dewey, Fassett, and such as they,

Whose names are written with deathless pen

On the roll of heroes, revered by men !

On this August night, 'mid rain and gloom.
There was gatheied within the council room
An eager, anxious and earnest crowd.
Who with nervous gestures and voices loud,
With solemn purpose and steady plan.
Arranged for the battle, man with man,
And were restless for morning's light to break
To war for right and their country's sake.
They would live in freedom from king and crown,
Or would lay their lives with the foeman down ;
They ask no congress for right to move.
But would follow their leaders brave, through love.
Then with parting word, for th<! night was spent,
To their homes or the distant camp they went.

* This allusion is to the circumstance that those
persons who v/erc not considered loyal to the cause of
the Colonies were often waylaid and taken into the
woods, where they were punished by a Haying on
their backs with ''beech rods" — called, in the back-
woodsman's parlance of the day, " beech scahr — Ed.

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The Btirgoyne Ballads.

Bright rose the morning's sun serene,

No lingerings of the storm were seen.

The meadow? wore a brighter green,

The swollen river shone between,

And proudly rose the mountains far,

On nature' fac- ;o frown of war.

Then lo ! From out the forests still,

With stately march and sturdy will,

The gallant columns moved apace,

Toward the " Heights" looked every face !

They came fror> *": •^f'. from shop, from farm ;

The "Parson," with ti'-' gospel arm

Upraised, was ea^^' r tc ihe fight.

Strong in his faith for Gon a:)d right.

Ranger and voluiv?er, as c ■,

Gathered beneath that .Ai%LT.t >';-- ;

Ununiformed, untried, yet brave.

They knew their power to fight and save !

The miry road they wound along.
And every mile they grew more strong,
'Till soon the foe, with colors bright.
Stood grouped before their waiting sight.
Brave Stark commanding called aloud
Unto his little army, proud, —
"The red-coats! See! ! — We win this fight,
Else Molly Stark this very night
Must sleep a widow !" Then to view
The foe's defences burst, clear through
The stubborn outworks on they prest
From northern wing, and from the west;
While from the British breastworks poured
The Hessian fire. The cannon roared ;
The line it wavered, comrades fell,
Still pushed they bravely on, and well,

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

Heedless of hail from rattling shot

Or blistered hand from rifle hot ;

They rushed and leaped o'er parapet,

And charged with butt and bayonet.

Wearied and hungry, wounded sore.

With throbbing brows and stained with gore

They held their posts 'till the fight was done

The foe was routed, the battle won.

While the rays of the setting sun were shed

er a smoking plain, with its pallid dead.
And the twilight shadows reached down upon
The victory field of Bennington !

In Paris proud, 'neath a golden dome.
Where wandering pilgrims ever come ;
'Neath massive marble and sculptured stone
Is gathered the dust of Napoleon !
There's a legend told that a mighty host.
Shadowy, ghostly, to vision lost,
Paces ever the tomb, before.
In tattered garments streaked with gore •
Who, pallid and wounded, keep watch and ward.

1 IS the band of the emperor's famous Guard '
They wait his rising who sleeps below,

To follow his form through heat or snow,
I ill he lead to glory and victory ;
And they wait the day and hour to be !

No shadowy, ghostly guard have we

Pacing before dead royalty ;

But giant forms that to-day we see

Uprise in their glorious history !

Oh ye with the clear-eyed sight of seers

Who glanced o'er the wid'ning space of years

And saw a form whose radiance bright

Flooded the western world with light,

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224

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Oh, soldiers brave of those mighty days,

Whom we crown with a century's crown of bays,

Keep ye your vigils over our land,

O'er valley and mountain, river and strand !

In rain or sunshine, calm or storm,

Guard ye this beauteous living form.

Warm with the youth of her hundred years,

With her pulsing heart and her shining tears,

Oh, watch our Land in her strength and pride,

Ye loved her fondly and for her died !

So lead her upward, thy guard ne'er cease

'Till she enter the endless years of Peace !

ODE ON THE VETERANS OF THE BATTLE
OF BENNINGTON.

By Mrs. Anna C. Botta.*

Our patriot sires are gone ;
The conqueror Death lays low

* Mrs. Anna Charlotte (Lynch) Botta, authoress,
born in Bennington, Vt, in 1820. Her father was a
native of Dublin, Ireland, who at the age of sixteen
joined the rebel forces under Lord Edward Fitzgerald.
He was afterward banished to the United States, where
he married. His daughter was educated in Albany,
N. Y., and at an early age began writing for literary
periodicals. Removing to Providence, R. I., she there
edited the " Rhode Island Book" (Providence, 1841),
containing selections from the authors of Rhode Island.
Soon afterward she returned to New York, where she
has since resided, and in 1855 niarried Professor Botta.
Among her many works is a " Hand-book of Universal
Literature" (New York, i860), containing concise ac-

-"fi-y ,■»<** s^sTf-

The Burgoyne Ballads. 225

Those veterans, one by one,

Who braved each other foe ;
Though on them rests Death's' sable pall,
Yet o er their deeds no shade shall fall.
No, ye of deathless fame !

Ye shall not sleep unsung,
While Freedom hath a name,

Or gratitude a tongue.
Yet shall your names and deeds sublime
Shme brighter through the mists of time.
Oh, keep your armor bright.

Sons of those mighty dead,
And guard ye well the right

For which such blood was shed '
Your starry flag should only wave
O'er Freedom's home or o'er your grave.

PARSON ALLEN'S RIDE.*

Delivered at the Centennial Celebration of
THE Battle of Bennington, August i6, 1877
BY Wallace BRucE.f '^^'

The " Catamount Tavern";]: is lively to-nio-ht •

here^'" ""^ ^^"""^'"^ ^"^ ^ew Hampshire are

counts of great authors of all ages and their works
which has been adopted as a text-book in many edu:
cational institutions. Mrs. Botta's style is musical

^^^'"'f r^. A^"'^^'^' ^"^ ^^' sonnets are espec ally
successful (" Appleton's Biographical Dictionary") ^

No. vill. ^ ""^ ^^''''" ^"'"' '"^ Appendix

t Wallace Bruce, lecturer, born in Hillsdale, N. Y.

226

The Burgoyne Ballads.

i 4

All drawn up in line in the lingering light
To greet Parson Allen with shout and with cheer.

Over mountain and valley from Pittsfield Green,
Through the driving rain of that August day,

The " flock" marched on with martial mien,
And the Parson rode in his " one horse shay."

" Three cheers for old Berkshire !" the General said,
As the boys of New England drew up face to face,

" Baum bids us a dinner to-morrow to spread.
And the Parson is here to say us the grace."

" The lads who are with me have come here to fight,
And we know of no grace," was the Parson's reply,

" Save the name of Jehovah, our Country and right.
Which your own Ethan Allen pronounced at Fort
Ti."

" To-morrow," said Stark, " there'll be fighting to do
If you think you can wait for the morning light.

And, Parson, I'll conquer the British with you,
Or my Molly* will sleep a widow at night."

November loth, 1844. He graduated from Yale in
1867, and has lectured extensively before lyceums and
associations on literary subjects, especially on Shake-
speare, Scott, Burns, Irving, and Bryant. Among his
works are " The Land of Burns," " Yosemite," " The
Hudson," and "From the Hudson to the Yosemite."
At present (1893) he holds the position of United
States Consul to Edinburgh, Scotland.

% For an account of the old Catamount Tavern, see
Appendix No. IX.

* Elizabeth was her name, but General Stark used
" Molly" as a word of endearment. This Mr. Charles
M. Bliss had on the authority of a granddaughter of

The Burgoyne Ballads.

227

What the Parson dreamed in that Bennington camp,
Neither Yankee nor Prophet would dare to guess ;

A vision, perhaps, oi the King David stamp.

With a mixture of Cromwell and good Queen Bess.

But we know the result of that glorious day,
And the victory won ere the night came down,

How Warner charged in the bitter fray,
With Rossiter and Hobart and old John Brown !

And how in a lull of the three hours' fight

The Parson harangued the Tory line,
As he stood on a stump, with hi;s musket bright,

And sprinkled his text with the powder fine :

" The sword of the Lord is our battle-cry ! —

A refuge sure in the hour of need,
And Freedom and Faith can never die,

Is article first of the Puritan creed !"

"■ Perhaps the occasion was rather rash,"

He remarked to his comrades after the rout,

" For behind a bush I saw a flash.
But I fired that way and put it out."*

And many the sayings, eccentric and queer,

Repeated and sung through the whole country side,

And quoted in Berkshire for many a year.
Of the Pittsfield march and the Parson's ride.

General Stark who lived in the house with him, and
who was eighteen years old when the general died.
Another granddaughter explained it in the same way
to Secretary William M. Evarts when he was at Ben-
nington at the centennial of the battle in 1877.
" Oh," said Evarts in reply, " he called her, then, Molly
when he wished to mollify her !"

* The firelock which Rev. Thomas Allen used

: V

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228

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Honor to Stark and his resolute men —

To the Green Mountain Boys all honor and praise —
While with shout and cheer we welcome again,

The Parson who came in his one horse chaise*

HYMN ON THE

BATTLE
TON.

OF BENNING-

By Mrs. Marie MAsoN.f

{On the occasion of the centennial of the battle of Bennington.)

One hundred years ! a nation's joys
Resound along the prospered way

That Stark and his Green Mountain Boys
Made ours one hundred years to-day.

God bless the standard of the free !

God bless this peaceful, happy land !
Our fathers' God ! we lift to Thee

Our praise for gifts on every hand.

for this confessed purpose was that of his brother
Joseph, who stood near him, he not having taken one
into the action. It is still preserved in Pittsfield by
the descendants of Joseph.

* Among the re-enforcements from Berkshire came
a clergyman with a portion of his flock — the boys
marching on foot and the parson driving through the
muddy roads in his primitive chaise (" History of Berk-
shire").

f Mrs. Mason, the wife of the distinguished musical
composer of Boston, Mass., was herself a poetess of
no mean rank. She is now dead.

If;;

The Burgoyne Ballads.

And for our country's honored head * '
Our reverent lips ask this alone ;

That Thou wilt guide his feet to tread
In footprints of our Washington.

Our counsellors with wisdom fill •
Let parties die ; let factions cease ;

Let all men seek with single will
Our country's unity and peace.

Then not in vain the patriot blood

Was poured upon the crimsoned clay,

When side by side our fathers stood
One hundred years ago to-day.

229

THE BATTLE OF BENx\INGTON. AUGUST

1 6, 1777.

By Rev, Thomas P. Rodman.

Up through a cloudy sky the sun

Was buffeting his way
On such a noon as ushers in

A sultry August day.
Hot was the air— and hotter yet

Men's thought within them grew •
They Britons, Hessiatts, Tories, saw,

They saw their homesteads too !

They thought of all their country's wrongs •
They thought of noble lives '

Poured out in battle with their foes •—
They thought upon their wives,

* President Hayes was present on this occasion.

II'

230 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Their children and their aged sires,

Their firesides, churches, God !
And these deep thoughts made hallowed ground

Each foot of soil they trod.

Their leader was a veteran man —

A man of earnest will ; —
His very presence was a host ;

He'd fought at Bunker's Hill !
A living monument he stood

Of stirring deeds of fame ;
Of deeds that shed a fadeless light,

Of his own deathless name !

Of Charlestown's flames, of Warren's blood.

His presence told the tale ;
It made each patriot's heart beat quick.

Though lip and cheek grew pale ;
It spoke of Princeton, Morristown ; —

Told Trenton's thrilling story ;
It lit futurity with hope.

And on the past shed glory.

Who were those men ? their leader, who }

Where stood they on that morn ?
The men were northern yeomanry,

Brave men as e'er were born ;
Who, in the reaper's merry row.

Or warrior's rank could stand ;
Right worthy such a noble troop —

John Stark led on the band.

Walloomsack* wanders by the spot
Where they that morning, stood ;

* For an able article, by Hon. S. D. Locke, of
Hoosic Falls, N. Y., showing that the battle of Ben-

Tlie Burgoyne Ballads. 231

Then rolled the war cloud o'er the stream,
The waves were tinged with blood ;

And the near hills that dark cloud girt,
And fires like lightning flashed ;

And shrieks and groans, like howling blasts,
Rose as the bayonets clashed.

The night before, the Yankee host

Came gathering from afar,
And in each belted bosom glowed

The spirit of the war !
All full of fight, through rainy storm,

Night cloudy, starless, dark —
They came and gathered as they came,

Around the valiant Stark !

There was a Berkshire parson* — he

And all his flock were there,
And like true churcJimen militant,

The arm of flesh made bare.
Out spoke the Dominie, and said : —

" For battle have we come,
These many times ; and after this.

We mean to stay at home,

" If now we come in vain" — Said Stark :

*' What ! would you go to-night,
To battle it with yonder troops ?

God send us morning light.
And we will give you work enough ;

Let but the morning come,
And if ye hear no voice of war,

Go back and stay at home."

nington should be called the battle of Walloomsack,
see National Magazine for April, 1892.
* Parson Allen. See poem aiite by Bruce.

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232 The Burgoyne BaUad«.

The morning came — there stood the foe ; —

Stark eyed them as they stood ;
Few words he spoke — 'twas not a time

For moralizing mood ;
" See there, the enemy, my boys —

Now, strong in valor's might,
Beat them, or Betty* Stark will sleep

in widowhood to-night!"

Each soldier there had left at home,

A sweetheart, wife or mother ;
A blooming sister, or perchance,

A fair-haired, blue-eyed brother ;
Each from a fireside came, and thoughts

These simple words awoke.
That nerved up every warrior's arm,

And guided every stroke.

Fireside and woman — mighty words !

How wond'rous is the spell
They work upon the manly heart,

Who knoweth not full well ?
And then the women of this land.

That never land hath known
A truer, nobler hearted race.

Each Yankee boy must own.

Brief eloquence was Stark's — not vain ;

Scarce uttered he the words,
When burst the musket's rattling peal ;

Out leaped the flashing swords.
And when brave Stark in after time

Told the proud tale of wonder,
He said " the battle din was one

Continual clap of thunder."

* General Stark's wife's name was Elizabeth Page.

■ 'I

The Burgoyne Ballads. 233

Two hours they strove, when victory crowned

The valiant Yankee boys ;
Naught but the memory of the dead

Bedimmed their glorious joys !
Ay^— there's the rub ; the hour of strife

Though follow years of fame,
Is still in mournful memory linked

With some death-hallowed name.

The cypress with the laurel twines—

The Paean sounds a knell—
The trophied column marks the spot

Where friends and brothers fell !
Fame's mantle, a funeral pall

Seems to the grief-dimmed eye ;
For ever where the bravest fall,

The best beloved die!

■11!

REMNANT OF AN OLD CONTEMPORARY.

(Song about Bennington.)

To take the stores and cattle
That we had gathered then,

Burgoyne sent a detachment
Of fifteen hundred men.

They came as brave men ever come,

To stand, to fight, to die;
No thought of fear was in their heart,

No quailing in the eye;
If the lip faltered, 'twas with prayer,

Amid these gathering bands,
For the sure rifle kept its poise

In strong, untrembling hands.

^'U

POEMS ON THE BATTLES OF SARATOGA.

(September 19 and October 7, 1777.^
A STORY OF BEHMUS' HEIGHTS.

(October 7, 1777.)

(Written by E. W. B. Canning, a trustee of the Saratoga Monument
Association, for the Springfield Republican, December 13th, 1885.)

" Please tell us," said the boys who stood,

With eyes brimful of fun,
Beside their grandsire — " how you fought

Red-coats at Bennington ;
And Col. Cilley's battle-tug

Over the twelve-pound gun."

"You've got a little mixed, my boys,
'Twas not at Bennington,
But Behmus'* Heights, where Cilley took

And christened that big gun ;
And I was there and helped hurrah,
When the brave deed was done.

" You see we'd been a fighting hard

Through all the afternoon ;
And 'mongst the trees a thousand balls

Still sung their deadly tune ;
And shot and shell knocked bark and boughs

Over our whole platoon.

* See Appendix No. X. for different spellings of
this name.

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mmmsas^m^SBga

The Burgoyne Ballade.

" We drove the red-coats rods away,
And then they drove us back ;
Briton and Yankee lay in scores

Along the bloody track ;
And neither side would bate a jot—
'Tvvas give and take the whack.

" So back and forth the battle swayed,
As ocean's surges sway ;
And round that gun that stood between

1 he dead lay piled that day.
Though captured oft, we had no time
To pull the thing away.

" Four times 'twas ours, and four times, too
1 hey drove us from our prize,
Which made the sparks of anger flash

From Cilley's gleaming eyes.
' The next time, boys, we'll hold it, or
Beside it die' — he cries.

" A rush, a shout, a volley's crash,

And it was ours again ;
And furious as a horde of wolves,

We drove them down the glen.'
Then on the war-dog Cilley sprang

And waved his sword amain.

"And cried aloud, 'To Liberty

I dedicate the gun ! '
Then whirled it round and bade its charo-e

Help Its late owners run. '^

We shouted it to camp, and thus

Was the twelve-pounder won."

235

236

Ttie Burgoyne Ballads.

POEM BY PROFESSOR ROBERT T. S.
LOWELL*

On the Occasion of the Centennial of the Bat-
tle OF Bemus Heights, September 19, 1777.

Prelude.

As while about some restful, wide-shored bay,

All hid in fog, landward and seaward lay.

Came far-heard voices forth, from men unseen.

Or low of herd, or roll of slow-worked oar,

Heard here and there, throughout that floating screen,

Made us no longer lonely, as before ;

Nay, as might chance, the eyes, long-straining, wist

Where shapes walked, great and dim, within the mist.

So, we may think, with former men, that by

This life's wide shore in memory are nigh.

But hidden deep in folding mists of Past ;

Still may the stronger eye, the finer ear.

Find, through the floating clouds about them cast,

The men that did their work and left it here,

The past that lived is but a little far

Within this self-same life wherein we are.

* Robert Traill Spence Lowell, clergyman, was born
in Boston, Mass., October 8th, 1816. He was at
Round Hill School, Northampton, Mass., in 1823-28,
under Joseph G. Copwell and George Bancroft, and
graduated from Harvard in 1833. In 1873 he became
professor of the Latin language and literature in
Union College, Schenectady, discharging the duties
of that department for six years. He was quite a vo-
luminous author, and was a frequent contributor in
both verse and prose to reviews, magazines, and
literary journals. He died September 12th, 1891.

The Burgoyne Ballads.

237

BURGOYNE'S MARCH.

To the drums' echoing beat,

And thrilling clarion's cry —

England's red banner as a sheet

Of flame against the sky —

With the strong tread of soldiers' feet

Burgoyne's good host went by,

The gleaming bayonets flashed pride in every eye.

A hundred golden summer suns

Have filled our fields with June

Whose morn and noon and twilight runs

Each to its end too soon.

Since, basking in the wealth of day,

Saint John's broad fort and village lay.

While through the streets, and from the fort,

Company, regiment, brigade.

Were marched as for a last parade,

Crowding the sunny port.

The town all thronged the beach ;

No work was then, for far or near :

No work, unless to see or hear.

And little speech, but cheer on cheer ;

Or, here and there, beyond the common reach.

Some prayer, some sobbing speech ;

But shout and martial strain

Make the banks ring again,

As the men took ship, to sail up Lake Champlain.

The general had stood awhile

Within the maple's shade,

With quickening eye and lofty smile ;

Since the dread game of war was played

Were never better soldiers made.

To conquer for the world-conquering Isle ;

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238

The Burgoyne Ballads.

To win back, for the English Crown,

Before which, fate, the might of France went down,

Fortress and farm and town,

Along the lakes, and rich Mohawk Vale,

To the old solid town that stands

Embosomed in fair lands,

And rich with many a peaceful sail.

Fort William — Beaverwick — the good town, Albany ;

While Howe, or Clinton, from the sea.

Should set the river-country free

From a base rule by countryman and clown.

Then would a loyal wall keep wide

The rebel lands that lay on either side,

Till more calm time and wiser thought

Should bring all mad revolt to naught ;

And the great realm that rounds the world and ever

fronts the sun,
Once more, from shore to answering shore,
By land, by sea, one realm should be ;
Unbroken, as it was of yore.
Throughout all earth but one.

Strange, one might think, breathing June's happy

breath.
Hearing glad melodies in all the air,
Seeing the red and gold that brightened everywhere ;
Strange that all these, so merry and so fair.
Should deck the trade of death !
As well the clouds of sunset heaped,
All tinged with red and gold.
The while the nightfall cricket cheeped,
Might into sudden storm have leaped,
And wreck and ruin manifold.
With thunderbolt of fabled Thor,
As this become death-dealing war !

The Burgoyne Ballads.

239

It would but be a month's parade;

The rebel fort would yield at call,

To earth the rebel flag would fall ;

The king would be obeyed.

To sweep, with summer breeze, the lake,

In the night wind a bivouac make.

Beneath the starry arch ;

To scout, in underwood and brake,

Would be a pleasure-march !

So, to an English eye, our country's cause would fail
(The hurried ending of a tale
Told overnight),

When brave Burgoyne set sail.

Our countrymen that season lay

As men that wake in night but fear the day.

The leaguer-fires of Bunker Hill

Were yet scarce trodden out ; and still

There were true men, whose steadfast will

Set all it had at stake ;

Would never bow to might or ill ;

Rather their country's soil would fill

With clay of heroes' make.

St. Clair and Schuyler had trod back

The long road of retreat ;

The foe was heard upon their track,

And, foot by foot — as waters roll —

So, following foot by foot, he stole

Their country from beneath their feet.

Crown Point, Ticonderoga, fell ;

Fort George, Fort Edward — need we tell

Stout Warner's gloomy overthrow ?

Or the great loss at Skenesborough ?

Let our hearts honor, as they can,
Schuyler, the gracious gentleman.

^■- i.^-.-._..i^it^

240

The Burgoyne Ballads.

\\^

His countrymen called back their trust
He waited not till they were just,
Took lower place, and felt no shame ;
Still gave a heart and hand, the same
That chose this cause when it began,
And, in his honor, give its share
To the strong patience of St. Clair.
Our tide of strength was running low ;
On its swift ebb was borne the foe
And, as men speak, God willed it so.

Not always will the tide turn out :
Not always the strong wind of fate
Shall drive from oif the harbor's gate
Those who, fast-anchored, wait and wait
'Till their own time shall come about ;
Yield never to the crime of doubt.

So everywhere great hearts were true,
The world looked dark ; here — only here —
A hand-breadth of the sky was clear ;
But the world's work was here to do !
Manhood in France was in the dust,
The prey of rank, and greed, and lust ;
And little despots, otherwheres.
Laid out the trembling world in shares ;
And England — England of the free —
Set safe by God amidst the sea,
To keep the light of liberty —
Under a foreign rule
Had learned in that bad school ;
Forgotten that, where law has sway,
They must make law who law obey.
England was reading all her story back.
To our true-hearted sires all the world's sky
looked black.

'^1

)

~ jiiM»i i*niimawwiB»

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

Save one clear hand-breadth in the west ;
Darkness and clouds held all the rest.

The time soon comes : men fill our camps;

On fortress-wall the sentry tramps

With The New Flag on high,

That in the ages down through time

Should shelter all weak things but crime ;

And all strong wrongs defy.

Now gain comes in where came in loss ;

Great names are made, or take new gloss ;

As fearless Herkimer — so wise

To see beyond the young, rash eyes,

Where needless, useless, labor lies ;

But fatherly and true.

To bear their rashness through ;

So Willett won at Schuyler fort,

And the brave leader Gansevoort :

Then, with Stark's day at Bennington,

The first great prize of war was won,

The conquering of Burgoyne begun.

There was no clioosing in the dark,

God made the general, John Stark —

Our tide swelled toward high water mark.

Three months of summer time were past

Since, with a gallant host,

'Mid beat of drum and trumpet-blast.

And with more lofty boast,

Burgoyne his march had forward cast ;;

Through fort and field his easy play

Would be a conqueror's holiday —

To that proud time his thoughts might stray

When Gates's army barred his further way.

On Bemis Heights our fathers stood,
While all the land looked on :

241

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242 The Burgoyne Ballads.

Could they not make their footing good,
Then Albany was gone !
Then all the hearts that beat for right
Would draw sad presage from the fight ;
Then a most heavy blow would smite
The heart of Washington !

When the day opened, fair and still

And clarions, with alarum shrill

Drew echoes from each other's hill,

If man his brother's blood must spill,

Let not God's word, " Thoti shalt not kill"

Bring judgment on our head !

And let the right stand, come what will,

Though we go to the dead !

They met the foe. — We will not say
All that was done, of deadly fray ;
How forward, now, now back they sway,
'Till the night settled late.
But by the first strong stand here made
Burgoyne's long summer-march was stayed.
And many an anxious one took breath,
Who watched the turn, for life or death,
In the young country's fate.

Here, once f ^r all, his march was crossed ;

He tried again, again he lost ;

And ere the season, growing old,

Knew summer out of date,

And hung the woods with red and gold,

Burgoyne's short story has been told ;

A brave heart, but his cause was cold ;

God willed our free born state.

And so Burgoyne's last march was made :

Between our line he led his last parade.

The Burgoyne Ballads.
After Breath.

243

Now, with still years between, when through we gaze
On those dim dead — the strong of earlier days —
Now that all strife is still — the great meed gained
For them that lived or died, with loyal heart,
In alien faith, hut to great manhood strained
Unyielding sinews, honor now ! Our part
To lay ourselves, as very sod or stone
Of trench, when called, to keep our land our own.

ALFRED B. STREET'S POEM.*

Read bv Colonel E. Howe on the Occasion of the
Centennial of the Surrender of Burgovne.

When fell Rome's fabric in the chasm it wrought
Dense darkness rushed without one star of thought :

* Alfred Billings Street, author and poet, born in
Poughkeepsie, N. Y., December iSth, 1811. In 1839
he removed to Albany, N. Y., and 1843-44 edited
the Norther7i Light, and from 1848 until his death
he was State Librarian. Mr. Street began at an early
age to write poetry for the magazines, and, as his
biographer in "Appleton's Cyclopedia" has justly said,
" he attained a respectable rank as a descriptive poet."
Some of his productions were highly praised by critics,
and several of his poems have been translated into
German. Chief among his poems may be mentioned
" Frontenac : A Metrical Romance" (London, 1849),
"The Burning of Schenectady" (Albany, 1842), and
" Drawings and Tintings" (New York, 1844). One of
his chief prose works was " Woods and Waters on the
Saranac and the Racket," describing a trip in the Adi-

)

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The Burgnyne Ballads.

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Scowled the whole midnight heaven, one general tomb,
Where formless monsters moved in Gothic gloom.
What though breathed Music in Provencal bowers,
And architecture wreathed its fadeless flowers :
The loftiest virtues of the soul lay dead.
Right, svvordless, crouched to Wrong's crowned con-
quering 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 spreaf' the blazon of its glittering flag.

In savage gorges which the vulture swept.
In lonely caverns where the serpent crept.

rondack Region (New York, i860). He was present on
the occasion of the dedication of the Saratoga Monu-
ment in 1877, o" which occasion, being too feeble
himself, his poem was read by Colonel Howe, and the
writer well remembers riding with him in the same
carriage in the procession on that occasion and having
the felicity of hearing the choice gems which dropped
from his mouth at that time.

:t!^|sr— — '

msmm

"PP

The Burgoyne Ballads.

245

Close where the tumbling torrent hurled its spray,
And shadowy cedars twine 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 quench its pure celestial fire;
From peak to peak it rose until the height
Showed it but heaven wherein to take its flight.
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 beyond 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 tries 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 wolfs 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

\ \

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246

The Biirgoyne Ballads.

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 !
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 chains 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.

So when crowned Wrong made here, his first advance.
Flashed from our fathers wrath's immediate glance;
Freedom their life, the 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 puny 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.

«•

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mmmmm

g'ftT-^.L!E~

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

247

Three threatening strands were woven by the Crown —
One stretchinij up Champlain ; one reaching down
The Mohawk Valley, whose 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 Giiarcntie — 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 hamle*^s, 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 skill,

Freedom, till Freedom grew their very life,

And slavery with all earthly curses rife.

Next the dark Horican, that mountain-vein,

Bright islet-spangled tassel to Champlain ;

The Highlands, souled with Washington and grand

With his high presence watching o'er the land ;

Thy heights, oh Bcmis! green with woods, yet white

W^ith llaUcs of tents, zigzag with works and bright

With flairs ; while in perspective, we discern

Grouped round grand Washington, with features stern

In patriot care and doubt, the forms of Wayne,

Putnam and Greene and all the shadowy train

Of congress, wrapt spectators from afar

Of where fierce Battle drove
ing car.

his flashing, thunder-

248

The Burgoyne Ballads.

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 hearts 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

Flashing 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 Ihe swell

The glad wind made ; how stately shone the scene !

June in the forests, each side smiling green !

O'er her dark dome the chestnut'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

Where glittering ripples amber sa:. s anoint

With foamy silver ; by deep, crescent bavs

Sleeping beneath their veil of drowsy haze.

MULWa

The Burgoyne Balladr,.

249

By watery coverts shimmering faint in film,
Broad, rounded knolls, one white and rosy realm
Of laurel blossom, with 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 essaying 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 warl)le 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 vSr. 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

f..

250

The Burgoyne Ballads.

V \\

i;«:? I:

ii *

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 more in sunny peace.

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 in 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.

.tiitruA

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The Burgoyne Ballads. 251

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,

Dnnkmg the sights and sounds at either hand,

Replete with beauty to his poet heart.

Laughing to scorn man's paltry works of art.

1 he grassy vista with its grazing deer.

The lone loon soaring on its shy career,

The withered pine tree with its' fish-hawk nest.

The eagle eyrie on some craggy crest.

The rich wliite 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, Burgovne his camp would trace
Round the Red House at the Great Carry in<r Place •
There when the sun is bright the sentry sees*
Madame Riedesel dining under trees,

252

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Ill

As the chasseur beholds her gliding round
Off flies his bear-skin helmet to the ground.

TT w TT W TT tT '^

Meanwhile the tidings of Oriskany

And Bennington 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 wheaten 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.
Turns he toward Horican }* the foe is there !

* Horican (Horicon), a name never an Indian name,
but merely, asCooper himself says, a fiction, and which,
therefore, has not the merit even of historical truth. A
tribe once lived in that vicinity, and therefore he took
the liberty of calling Lake George by that name. This
is all well enough in novels, but so far as historic truth
is concerned it should be mentioned. Cooper should

WT": .'

The Burgoyne Ballads. 253

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.f 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 !
Those piling arms! clank, clank ! that tolling knell
To bowed 13urgoyne ! what bitter, bitter swell

never be considered an authority in anything pertain-
ing to historical truth. In fact, he is greatly overrated.

* General Fellows having got in the rear of Bur-
goyne's army, between the latter and Fort Edward —
the objective point of Burgoyne's retreat — nothing was
left for the British general but to surrender.

f Fort Hardy. This fort was erected during the
administration of Governor Hardy of the province of
New York. It was built by the colony of New York
to ward off the 'incursions of the French and the Ind-
ians in their employ. It never was a great strategic
work, though for political purposes it was in the New
York Assembly called a " great work." It was here
that Burgoyne's army " stacked" their arms, and the
outworks of which are still (1893) to be seen by the
curious tourist.

254

The Burgoyne Ballads.

;m f-

M Iv

Of his proud heart ! ah, sad Burfjoyne ! what death
To thy high hopes, all vanished like a breath !

Loudly may laureled Saratog^a 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.

GENERAL J. WATTS DE PEYSTER'S ODE.

Read by Rev. D. K. Van Doren, on the Occa-
sion OF THE Centennial Celebration oy Bur-
goyne's Surrender.

THE SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE, " SAR-
ATOG," 17TH OCTOBER, 1777.

Brothers, this spot is holy ! — Look around !

Before us flows our mem'ry's sacred river,
Whose banks are Freedom's Shrines. This grassy
mound,

The altar, on whose height the Mighty Giver

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The Burgoyne Ballads. 255

Gave Independence to our country ; when,
Thanks to its brave, enduring, patient men,
The invadinjT^ host was brought to bay, and laid
Beneath " Old Glory's" new-born folds, the blade,
The brazen thunder-throats, the pomp of war,
And England's yoke, broken forever more.

Like a destroying angel, Burgoyne's host

Burst through Ticonderogn's bulwarks, hoary ;
And flaming wrecks, wide ruin 'long its coast,

Renew'd past awful scenes of Champlain's story,
When France's Lilies dy'd themselves in blood.
Floated to trium[)h on Algonquin flood —
Made William Henry's siege a tale of horror-
Made Abercrombie's failure land-wide sorrow.
Like many conflicts though right bravely fought —
The only comfort was by Schuyler brought.
Our frontier people shrunk before the scare ; *
The load was left for Schuyler 'lone to bear.

* The scare or panic which succeeded the first ap-
pearance of Burgoyne was of the same character with
that which shook the whole country after the Bull Run
First, July 21st, 1861, and was equally causeless. The
people recovered from it much quicker in 1777 than
in 1 86 1, for Oriskany and its rich harvest, due to
Schuyler, which broke the spell, was fought exactly
one month to a day after the fall of Ticonderoga,
whereas the victory won by General Thomas, the
Schuyler of the Slaveholders' Rebellion, at Mill Spring,
which taught the North that, under an honest and
able leader, theirs were the best men, was not achieved
until January 19th, 1862, six months after the first
battle of Bull Run.

236

The Burgoyne Ballads.

And how he bore it, now, at length, we know ;

How steadfastly he damm'd the crimson tide;
Baffled and stopp'd the five-fold stronger foe ; *

To timid counsels hero strength supplied.
Burgoyne victorious, ere he left Champlain,
Startled perceiv'd his brilliant prospects wane ;
Saw in the Lion's path a Nimrod stand ;
Saw all his mighty projects countcrplannVl ;
Ere Burgoyne reached the Hudson, fast cmpoigyHd
In Schuyler's grasp, he felt he was " Burgoyn'd."

O mighty soul ! — by envious souls decried,

New York's great son in giant height now stands ;

Argus to watch, Ulysses to decide,

Gath'ring resources with Briarean hands,

His the victorious field Harkheimer made

St. Leger's f foil, stopp'd Johnson's tiger raid ;

* Allen says Schuyler did not have over looo men
at Fort Edward, and even after he got down to Half-
Moon, it would appear that the majority of his troops
were boys, old men, negroes, and parti-colored. If
the real truth could be reached, there is very little
question but that proof exists that Burgoyne had over
lo.ooo men, Regulars, Provincials or Loyalists, Cana-
dians and Indians, when he started on this expedition.
He himself admits 7863 men. Schuyler at Fort Edward,
when Burgoyne was within twenty-one miles of him,
had only 1 500 miserably furnished troops. Burgoyne
surrendered, valids and invalids, 5763 men to Gates,
who had, besides staff", bateau-men, artificers, etc., a
force numbering 18,624, according to official returns.
Governor and General Clinton, of New York, estimated
the forces of General Gates at between 23,000 and
24,000 armed men.

t For a sketch and account of General St. Leger

■ ■w"! i- - U.U J J. B l.,'.}T

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

257

Fort Stanwix sav'd, the Mohawk valley sav'd —
Was all his work, who coward counsels brav'd ;
Stak'd honor, fortune, all, upon the throw,
So by the cast he beat his country's foe ;
Oriskany is due to New York's son ;
Likewise to Schuyler's brain is Bennington,
Fought on our own State soil, on Hoosic's hill,
Vict'ries that yet the nation's pulses thrill.
At length Burgoyne, the haughty, brought to bay

At Saratoga knew our country's might ;
At Freeman's Farm saw triumph fade away ;

Saw Hope itself take wings on Bemis Height.
Barr'd, baffled, beaten, crippled, short of food.
In vain his craft, his vet'ran multitude,
Caught in the toils through which he could not break,
Chain'd like a victim to the fatal stake
Just where we stand — thanks to Sabaoth's Lord
Boasting Burgoyne gave up his vet'ran sword.

Here Albion's battle flag, which, round the world,
Following the sun at morning-gun's unfurl'd.
Here, where we stand, the crucial flag of Mars
Stoop'd, in surrender, to our Stripes and Stars,
Where at an army's head was first display'd
Our Starry Flag with triumph's halo ray'd.
A century since Burgoyne surrender'd here!**
British dominion its Centennial year

and his dissolute life, see Stone's "Johnson's Orderly
Book," Appendix (Munsell's Sons).

*The New Netherlands were not definitely ceded
to Great Britain, and did not become permanently
New York until February 9th, 1674, by the peace
signed at Westminster. The city of New Amsterdam
or New York was not finally yielded up, however^
until November loth, 1674.

253

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Had just completed — which its Lion tore
From Holland's zone, the richest gem it bore, —
And now assembled thus, we celebrate
The triumph sure which seal'd th' invader's fate ;
Without this deed, Freedom had not been ours ;
Without this fact, unbroken Britain's powers ;
Burgoyne defeated, France became our friend,
A source of strength on which we could depend,
For all that War's strong sinews constitute —
To foster Freedom's tree — 'ncath us the root.

\\ t

.1 ti

All was decided here, and at this hour

Our sun Icap'd up, though clouds still vcil'd its power.

From Saratoga's hills we date the birth, —

Our Nation's birth among the powers of earth.

Not back to '76 New Yorkers date :

The mighty impulse launched our " Ship of State"

'Twas given here — where shines our rising sun

Excelsior ! These hills saw victory won.

This vale the cradle where the colonies

Grew into States — despite all enemies,

Yes, on ihis spot — Thanks to our Gracious God

Where last in conscious arrogance it trod,

Dcfil'd as captives Burgoyne's conquered horde ;

Below* their general yielded up his sword

*" Below!' On the alluvial flat, a few feet distant
from the foundation of the contemplated Saratoga
Monument (according to W. L. Stone), Burgoyne
went through the ceremony of resigning his sword to
Gates. The Duke de Rochefoucauld-Liancourt (H.,
302), who visited " Saratog' in 1795, says that the
ceremony took place in the courtyard oJ Schuyler's
ruined homestead.

0* ■Mjjj.e'

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Tlie Burgoyne Ballads,

259

There * to our flag bow'd England's, battle-torn.
Where now we stand f th' United States was born !

* " Thercr About a hundred rods to the front and
eastward, near the site of old Fort Hardy and present
village of Schuylerville, the British forces laid down
their arms.

f " Here where we stand." The Convention of Sara-
toga traversed all the British plans, lost to the crown
an army which could not be replaced, won for the Col-
onies the French alliance, without whose men, material,
and money, independence was still an impossibility.
And afterward no great general battle was fought, n(.)r
did the English achieve a single success which led, even
comparatively speaking, to important results. The
sun of October 17th, 1777, witnessed the safe delivery
of the infant United States.

The writer of these versos has endeavored to convey
in a few lines facts worthy of remembrance, which
thus concisely put could be recalled without exertion,
and read or listened to without fatigue. The facts
thus grouped together in rhyme, and so briefly pre-
sented, were the result, however, of years of the closest
study. The author's researches had already borne
fruit in a series of publications. The most prominent
of these was an Annual Address, delivered on Janu-
ary 22d, 1877, before the New York Historical
Society, and entitled " Major-General Schuyler and
the Burgoyne Cam|)aign, in the Summer of 1777,'
June, October, 1777; "Justice to Schuyler," published
in the New York Citizen, Citizen ami Round Taldc,
in or about January, 1868 ; also " Schuyler and Prac-
tical Strategy," published in the Army and Navy
yournal, January 27th, 1865, Vol. III., page 336.
The last two were published in 1876 as a mono-

^*l-»"

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h <:

260

The Burgoyne Ballads.

graph, with notes. In addition to these, the author,
Major-General J. Watts de Peyster, prepared a series
of nineteen articles, hearing the general title " The
Revolutionary Year, 1777," which came out in the
New York Evening; 3fa// and New York A/at7. The
first appeared on April 5th and the nineteenth on
December 13th, 1877. The series treated of all
the prominent events of " the real beyond contra-
diction, Centennial year." They filled nearly thirty
columns of this evening daily. Over and above
this immense labor, the same exponent of the truth
of American history wrote twelve voluminous arti-
cles on the Burgoyne campaign for the New York
Daily Times, treating in detail not only the Bur-
goyne campaign proper, but all the military op-
erations bearing upon or connected with the same.
These occupied at least thirty-six columns brevier and
agate type in this prominent daily journal. Some of
them were pronounced by experts to be exhaustive of
facts and authorities. Nor was this the entirety of
his labors. He furnished a monograph and poem on
the battle vif (3riskany, with notes, to vStone's New
York Military Gazette, of November I'th, i860,
and a detailed article on the same subject to the New
York Historical Maa^azine (rvew series, \()\. V., No.
i), for January, 1869. The poem which first ap-
pcare 1 in the Military Gazette was considered of
sufficient merit to be translated into German and re-
published in Hon. Friedrich Kapp's " Gescbichte der
dcutchen Anwanderung in Amerika," Vol. I., " Ge-
schichte der Dcntsc/ien in Staate IVeio York bis ziini
Anfange ties nennzehnten Jalirhundertl' New York,
1867, pages 389-90. It was again reproduced ir
the Staats Zeitung of August 6th, 1877. ^^'^
second poem on Oriskany, written for the occasion,

I [ < » JI « » ll «» l

The Burgoyne Ballads.

901

was read at the Centennial Anniversary of this decisive
battle, noteworthy in connection with the battles and
capitulation of Saratoga, because it did decide the
fate of the Burgoyne campaign. This received the
most flattering notice from the press throughout the
State, as well as elsewhere.

The motive for all this work was patriotism in the
sense in which it was applied in olden limes, when a
man's sympathies were not expected to embrace a
continent : Love of New York, the Empire State,
in the truest sense of such an appellation, imperial
even in its errors. With gradually developing thought,
even New England has attained the majesty of justice
to Schuyler. (See Stevens's " Burgoyne Campaign,"
page 27.)

Alas! this justice comes just one century too late.
New England's envy and injustice, in 1777, deprived
Schuyler of his glory in the very hour of triumph —
New England, for which Washington had so little
good ar.d so much bitter both to say and to write.

All the conflicts of the Burgoyne campaign were
fought on New York soil, and all the great factors in
the triumph, except the mere nominal chief actor,
were born within the limits of the original colony of
the New Netherlands, afterward New York. Chil-
dren of its soil fought out the question on the Upper
Hudson (underlying Fort Anne;, at Oriskany and in
the passes of (he Highlands. Namesake and kins-
man, blood relation and connection, neighbor and de-
pendent, met breast to breast to solve the great prob-
lem wiie'.her their country should he happier under a
constitutional monarchy or a constitution and con-
gress.

They did iTot decide it then, and it is an enigma
which still remc'ins unsolved. Events are tending fast

i<i' '■■

' •*

262

The Burgoyne Ballada.

to its solution, but the tangled skein is certainly not
yet entirely unravelled.

What scathing words Washington hurls around
him at various members of the old original Thirteen !
He is unsparing. New England does not escape, nor
Pennsylvania, nor even his own native Virginia.

" In 1777" (says Theodore Parker in his " Historic
Americans"), "when the British held Philadelphia, and
Washington went into winter quarters at Valley
Forge, only a day's march off, at a time of the greatest
peril, the . . . State of Pennsylvania had but twelve
hundred militia in the field to defend their own fire-
sides." " Pennsylvania . . . did little for indepen-
dence."

These are quotations. If the charges are unfounded,
let the author justify them. One iact is patent, just
as in 1862 and 1863, Pennsylvania had to call in 1777
upon her sister States to protect her homesteads.

Meanwhile, what is the record of the J^cv. William
Gordon (iii, 399), in regard to New York, which,
" though consuming at both ends and bleeding at
every pore, had her complement of Continental troops
(Congress soldiers Regulars), in the field, beside having
raised in the month of May [1780] eight hundred
new levies to guard the frontiers ?"

In 1780, when New York was devastated (at its
heart) by her own offspring, while thus suffering and
still exerting itself, several of her sister States were
in full and peaceable possession of their territories,
seemingly slept in security, and had not a third of
their quota in the field. " Yet (at this very period), in
1779-80, General Arnold, the traitor, with less than
two thousand men (British Regulars and Loyalists),
ravaged the whole Sf:ate of Virginia for two years.
Jefferson did nothing against him." (Parker's " His-

The Burgoyne Ballads. 263

FalLfo7"his'r; y^f '"g'"". '44.) Nor was .he
loniTv '".'^Country less severe on the onVinal co-
lonial V,rg,n,a m,lu,a or provincial .roopsf (Y^S,

suchTTaS:or ^"^ "^ ^^—vereTrtt^o^f

^at« irom Jl the Colonies, convened at Albany in

Sta^e^of^M °' v' T''''''"^" Colonies was decided in the
fi^stplsfd^IrtL""^^!'-''-^ years ago; and"t'h':

in the city of New Yo k ei.h^^'T/ '"•■'"g'''-''"=<i
Federal Hall. ^°« <='ghty-eight years ago in

So much space has been devoted to this :il„»f„,-
Sfor'^ - i'i^ -Hivlhf^i'TaKt pT^ceTe"

£t^::;^q^rf^-^ed^-i-£

of the so,l s,ncc first it had a literature and record^

204

The Buryoyne Ballads.

THE FIELD OF THE GROUNDED ARMS.

SARATOGA.

Written in 1831 by Fitz-Greene Halleck*

(Kead by General James Grant Wilson ^ HalUck's bioi^mpher.)

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.

* Fitz-Greene Halleck, poet, horn in Guilford,
Conn., July 8th, 1790; died there November 19th,
1867. In May, 181 1, he left his native town to seek
after fame and fortune in New York, and in June
of the same year he entered the counting-room of
Jacob Barker, in whose service he remained for
twenty years. He early became a poet, and it was on
the occasion of the death of his intimate friend,
Joseph Rodman Drake, that he wrote those exquis-
itely touching lines beginning

*' Green be the turf above thee."

In 1819 thc'^e two formed a literary partnership, and
afterward \ iuced the humorous series of the
" Croak*. 1 Fa) 'rs," published in the New York Even-
ing Post, i\\ i\ edited by their friend, Hiyant, He
was the author of numerous poetical works and short
pieces — among them •' F'anny" and " Marco Boz-
zaris" — and was justly held in high regard both as a
poet and as a man. Nor can I allow this opportunity
to pass without here paying a personal tribute to the
subject of this sketch. When a young man and first
embarking on the untried sea of authorship, he gave me
much encouragement, and it is due to him in a meas-
ure that 1 was emboldened to continue that voyage.

■miiiiHi

The Burgoyne Ballads.

265

True, 'tis a scene of loveliness— the bnVlit
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
bmile on the green earth from their home in heaven

iiven as a mother smiles

Above her cradled boy,

And wreathe their light and shade oer plain and

mountam, '

Oer sleepless seas of grass, whose waves are (lowers
1 he river s golden shores.

The forest of dark pines.
The song of the wild bird is on the wind
1 he 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 jouriicv on

A thousand scenes like this

Will greet you ere the eve.

Ve linger yet— ye see not, hear not now,
1 he sunny smile, the music of to-day,

Vour thoughts are wandering up,

Far up the stream of time.

And boyhood's lore and fireside listened tales
Are rushmg on your memories, as ye breathe

That valley's storied name,

Field of tiik Grounded Arms.
Strangers no more, a kindred " pride of place"
Pride in the gift of country, and of name,

Speaks in your eye and step —

Ye tread your native land.

260

The Burgoyne Ballads.

And your hijjh thoughts are on her glory'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-Hashes 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 1

The danger hovers o'er the invader's march.
On raven wings hushing the song of fame,

And glory's hues of beauty

Fade from the cheek of death.

'**

•■-~*- — I ll» , _

The Burgoyne Ballads. g^f

A foe is heard in every rustling leaf,
A fortress seen in every rock and tree,

1 he eagle eye of art

Is dim and powerless then,

And war becomes the people's joy. the drum
Man s merriest music, and tiie field of death

His couch of happy dreams,

After life's harvest-home.

He battles heart and arm, his own blue slcv
Above him, and his own green land around.

i-and 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 morrow's doom—

A prison or a grave.

And such were Saratoga's victors— such
Ihe \ eoman-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 monumenrs.

igr.-.:

208

The Burgoyne Bullads.

SARATOGA.
By Charles II. Ckandall.*

(Written /or the deJieation of the battle monument at Schuylerville, N, Y.)

Historic Hudson ! Haste not by to-day !
More gently let thy waters take their way

*Crandall, Charles Henry, born June 19th, 1858,
in the town of Easton, near the village of Greenwich,
Washington County, N. Y. His father was Henry
Sargent Crandall, who spent many years in jiublic
service as Assistant Assessor of Internal Revenue, and
in several positions in the New York Post Office and
Custom House. The Crandalls trace back to a fol-
lower of Roger Williams, Rev. John Crandall, who
founded the town of iW'sterly, R. I., about 1635. ^"
his maternal side the poet sprang from Mills, Car-
michael, Canfield, and Waters families. His great-
grandfather, Jeremiah Newbury, fought throughout the
whole Revolution, and is buried at Greenwich, N. Y.

Our subject was educated at common schools and the
Greenwich Academy until he was fourteen years old,
when he had to take up the problem of working for a
living, first on the ancestral acres and afterward in
mercantile life in New York. Tired of the latter, he
went on the staff of the New York Tribune in March,
1880, and has written for it since more or less, con-
tributing correspondence, special and editorial matter.
His vein of poesy first Howed through the columns of
the 7>/((57^«<?, oj)ening with a graceful sonnet, and con-
tinuing with some scores of poems — grave, gay, patri-
otic or elegiac. Afterward his verse found acceptance
with the Century, Harpers Monthly, the Atlantic,
Cosmopolitan, Lippincott's, etc. Among many maga-
zine articles he has written a full treatment of the Bur-

The Buryoyne BaUmh.

260

As on thy hanks we dedicate
This Shalt unto the dead, the great

Whose memory, like thy stream, a shining story.

bhall broaden to a boundless sea of glory.

The dwellers in Manhattan's crowded mart
May here see Nature play her silent part

1 he stream that brings them wealth

Mere steps with bashful stealth,
Soft, as in moccasins an Indian maiden,
Its breast with trees, like tresses, overladen.

goyne campaign, published with illustrations in the

American Magazine. His interest in the Burgoyne bat-

le monument may be partially due to the fact that his

birthplace, two miles away, is in view from its top. In

Mifflin ^r '"if" .P"'^"^''^'J through Houghton.
Mifflm & Co. a collection ol " Representative Sonnets"
by Anfiencan poets, with an exhaustive study and his-
tory of the sonnet in all literatures since its birth in
the thirteenth century. The work was at once cordially
greeted, as a credit to American literature, by such
critics as Stedman, Gilder, Horace E. Scudder. the
Evening Post, Lntu,^\.c.

In 1892 Mr. Crandall w;,>, rccpiested to write a poem
lor the two hundred and liftieth anniversary of the
founding of Stamford. Conn., near which city he now
resides, mingling farm life with literary pursuits He
has been twice married: to Miss Kate V. Ferguson
(deceased) and to Miss Mary W Davenport, of the
iamily so closely connected with the history of Con-
necticut. Hc^ has three sons-Arthur. Robert and
Roland— and finds even greater pleasure in his sons
than his sonnets.

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270

The Burgoyne Ballada.

I \

As now for many a path in life you meet,
The hills in their immortal verdure greet,

Come with me in my boat of rhyme,

Come and ascend the stream of time,
Back when the nation was a century newer
And held true heroes, though her sons were fewer.

Quiet for many a year has here been found —
The wild bird feared no martial sight nor sound.

Under the peaceful fields, well-kept.

The ashes of the soldier slept,
With summer's guard of tasselled corn around.
And winter's snow-shroud hallowing the ground.

On yonder plain, where England's grenadiers
Laid down the arms they loved, with bitter tears,

The armies of the grass and grain

Have struggled o'er and o'er again,
In changing regiments of green and yellow,
Through lusty June, through August ripe and mellow.

Honor the p^ist ! Already has there flown

From Saratoga and from Horicon
All but their names — whose gentle sounds
Still linger round the burial mounds —

Of that dark race, which, ever westward flying,

Now, like a sunset's light, is slowly dying.

The modern spirit would itself demean

Did we not flock, to-day, to such a scene :
For from the nation's rugged pR«5t,
The rude days when her late was cast.

Has flowed the stream that makes all men draw near
her.

The Freedom that has made the world revere her.

Here fell the blow that made Oppression reel,
And set on Freedom's cause its brightest seal.

mmmmm

mmmmmmmmmmmmm

The Burgoyne Ballads.

Honor to Schuyler, Morgan, Gates.
Ihe victors over threatening fates.
And praise for him whose niche has but a name
Too vahant to forget, to base for fame ! '

Honor to every nameless, fallen one '
Honor them all each one the country's son !

Stone for their fitting monument

Nature to Art has kindly lent.
And every block that lifts this tapering spire
Is sacred as if touched with holy fire. ^

Flew Zl^^ '°''.'^" ^^^ ^^'^ ^°^^ ^« "^n^e
i^lew in the wind, a never-dying flame !

giving a heart-beat to the land.

Binding it with a silken band—
An amulet where'er its name is spoken-
Gainst which no sword shall ever fall unbroken !
And when this ceremonial pomp shall pass
And undisturbed shall glow and fade thrg;ass

While storm and sun and shadow chase

Vpf T n fu^^ 1''''"^^' ^'^te^n-featured face.
Yet shall this place to many a one be dear .
And Liberty shall love to linger here !

To multitudes who come with pilgrim feet
The sculptured tablets will their tiles repeat •
Again in fancy will be seen '

The red-coats on the meadows green
And Jane McCrea shall leave her pillov^ gory
Or hearts be moved by Lady Acland's sto^r^'

XnI^L ""It ^^'^^ '^^' S''^^^' than her fears
W. T. ' °"' ''"^P ""^ conquered it with tears
Was but a type of woman's hearr- '

Which ever bravely plays its part--

271

i('

272

Tiie Burgoyne Ballads.

Which soothes in peace, in war gives cheering word,
Melts lead to ball and reaches down the sword

Long may our tribute to the brave endure.
Here where the winds and waters journey pure.

And give to all who on it gaze

The spirit of those olden days,
When love of right and liberty unbound
The strongest clasp that loved ones threw around.

Speak ! Sons of Saratoga here to-day,

Shall it not be this valley's boast to say :
The soil of Saratoga sends
The kind of man that never bends,

Whether in council hall a vote he wield

Or grasps a gun upon a battle-field ?

And you, fair village, with your skyward spires,
Your leisurely canal, your factory fires,

Keep for yourself as fair a fame

As his who gave to you a name —
The courtly soldier gentlemen who now,
Kindly in bronze, meets you with open brow.

England ! a foe no longer, peace to thee !

A common lineage throbs beneath the sea;
And though this day brings nearer heart
The nation's friends who took our part,

We send to her who rules thy fair demesnes

Greeting from sixty million kings and queens.

The nation that forgets its Marathon
Has lost the choicest glory it has won.

Then let this granite shaft of grace

Forever be a rallying place
For liberty and honor, till the day
The stone is dust, the river dried away !

m it a r ta!K**ttt h» « -.^ii,»t»i'%t

■<^iM#HW-^j«ifttvb>«>vijWK£fiK!S

The Burgoyne Ballads. 273

And when, a century hence, this column hath
Whirled with the world through space its spiral path

And men of grander, later days,

With faces strange, upon it gaze •
Twill draw our thought, like lightning from the sKies:
1 /le man who dies for cotmtry never dies!

^^^.?I^^^P^^^<^LED BANNER. PARA-
PHRASED FOR THE OCCAS ON BY
COLONEL B. C. BUTLER*

Read by William L. Stone, Secretary of the

Saratoga Monument Association.
O SAY, can you see, by the dawn's early light

On Saratoga's broad plains what so proudly is
streaming, ^

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the
perilous fight,

. O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly
streaming? ^

For our fathers this day to this field made their way
lo glory m the conquest of the foe's proud array
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

In its field stood the plough, the axe ceased in the wood
i^rom his log cabin gladly the wild hunter sallied '

i^rom city and glen they came like a flood
To the ranks where the brave and the valiant
were rallied.

Colonel Benjamin C. Butler, a distinguished lawyer
for many years of Saratoga Springs, N. Y. He always
took great interest in everything relating to the Revo-
lutionary period. He died about 1879

1 'A

.1 J.

N':

274

The Burgoyne Ballads.

O let Stillwater's Heights and Saratoga's dread fight
Tell how nobly our sires fought and bled for the right
While the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

This day, when our sires trod on sceptre and chain,

And the foes of proud Britain were scattered before us,
Then went up to heaven with loudest acclaim

From the hearts of true freemen, that victory is o'er us.
'Twas Huzzah ! Huzzah ! from the lake to the shore,
Our cause it has triumphed, we are subjects no more —
The star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

O, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved home and the foes' desolation,
Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-blest land
Praise the power that hath blest and preserved it a
nation.
Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just.
And this be our motto, " In God is our trust,"
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

* '**'^#**?!"SS8^P^?¥^t3RSBi

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APPENDIX I.

THE RELATIVE FORCES OF THE TWO
ARMIES AT THE SURRENDER.

FORCE UNDER GATES.

In Volume IX. of the manuscript papers of General
Gates, in the Library of the New York Historical
Society, is the official written return of the number
of Gates's army present at the surrender of Burgoyne.
It is entitled "A General Return of the Army com-
manded by Major-General Gates at the Convention of
Saratoga, October 17th, 1777," and gives the numbers
and commands as follows :

Contmental Brigades atid Corps.

Nixon's 1,430

Poor's 1,466

Glover's 1,479

Patterson's 1,300

Learned's 1,257

Morgan's Corps. '712

Engineers and Artificers 72 7,716

Militia, Brigades and Corps.

Warner's 1,371

Annexed to Poor's t^^iZ

Glover's 610

Patterson's 468 3,382

11,098

!■

.11

J't i

1 1

ri^

Sty ^ -!

276

T/ie Burgoyne Ballads.

In his " Narrative," p. 27, Burgoyne says : "I shall
close the whole of this by delivering at your table,
from the hands of my secretary, an authenticated return
of the force of General Gates, signed by himself, and
the truth of it will be supported from ocular testimony
by every officer of the British Army." It is dated Oc-
tober 16th, 1777, and is printed and apparently care-
fully tabulated in full in the Appendix to the " State
of the Expedition," and states his entire force as 18,624.
Why there should be such a great discrepancy from
the original manuscript return above given is not easily
explained, unless the following extract from Dr. Gor-
don's " H istory," Vol. 1 1., p. 268, American edition, does
so : " Burgoyne was desirous of a general return of the
army commanded by Gates at the time of the con-
vention. The latter understood him, and was careful
not to lessen the return a single man. . . . The num-
ber of the militia was continually varying, and many
of them were at a considerable distance from the camp.'

FORCE UNDER BURGOYNE.

The army which took the *ield in July, 1777, con-
sisted of seven battalions of British infantry — viz. :
9th, 20th, 2ist, 24th, 47th, 53d, and 62d regiments, of
each of which (as also of three regiments left in Can-
ada) the flank companies were detached to form a corps
of grenadiers and light infantry, under Majors Ac-
land and the Earl of Balcarras. The German troops con-
sisted of a few Hessian rifles (the regiment of Hessc-
Hanau), a corps of dismounted dragoons, and a mixed
force of Brunswickers. The artillery was composed of
511 rank and file, including icxd Germans, with a large
number of guns, the greater part of which, however,
were employed only on the lakes. The ordnance
which accompanied the force on their line of march

M^MHaaiiiiiiiMriiMttHiiiliiiilii

The Burgoyne Ballads. 277

consisted of thirty-eight pieces of light artillery attached
to columns, and a pair of six twenty-four pounders
SIX twelve-pounders, and four howitzers.

The Royal Army was divided into three brigades
under Major-General Phillips, of the Royal Artillery
and Brigadier-Generals Fraser and Hamilton The
German troops were distributed among the three bri-
gades, with one corps of reserve under Colonel (Briga-
dier-General) Breymann, and were immediately com-
manded by Major-General Riedesel. Colonel Kinaston
and Captain Money acted as adjutant and quarter-
master-general, and Sir James Gierke (killed at Sara-
toga in the action of October 7th) and Lord Peter-
sham (afterward Earl of Harrington) were aides-de-
camp to General Burgoyne.

General Burgoyne's original manuscript (also amono-
the Gates; papers in the New York Historical Society
Library), entitled " State of the British Troops at the
Convention the 17th October, 1777," and " Liste de la
1-orce du Corps des Tro upes Allemands,* le jour de

* A great deal of nonsense has been written in con-
demnation of the English Government employing Ger-
mans in the war for the subjugation of her revolted
American colonies. But does any soldier work for
pure patriotism and not for hire? Besides, at that
time, the German soldier belonged body and soul to
him to whom he had sold himself: he had no coun-
try; he was severed ^rom every tie— in fact, he was
in every sense of the word, the properly of his military
lord, who could do with him as he saw fit. Aoain it
may well be asked, wherein did this action of the Brit-
ish Government differ from that of the United States
employing in our late Civil War recruiting agents in the
different German ports for the express purpose of fill-

27S The Burgoyne Ballads.

la Convention le 1 7'" d'Octobre, 1777," both on one
sheet, signed by himself separately in his own hand,
and delivered to General Gates, gives all his regiments,
the strength of each, and the total force he surrendered,
as follows :

" Regiments. Rank and File.

9 411

2° 367

21 412

24 440

47 342

02.... 277

Canadian Companies of Grenadiers and
Light Infantry 345

Lieutenant Nutt, of 33d Detachment,

doing duty with Artillery 95

Royal Artillery 212

^ 2,901

Officers of all grades 478

' 3.379

"J. BURGOYNE."

" Etat General ^^

Regt. des Dragones 36

Bat. des Grenadiers 2 70

Regt. de Rhetz 420

" de Riedesel 457

" de Specht 414

Bat. F. L. de Barnes 182

ing up her depleted armies, and also purchasing sub-
stitutes in Canada ?

-."fi(K

The Burgoyne Ballads. 279

Regt. de Hes. Hanau 525

Artillerie de Hes. Hanau 75

2,412
" J. Burgoyne."

The endorsement on the back of the return is :

"English 3,379

German 2,4 1 2

In all 5.791"

Dr. Gordon, whose statements have been proved in
most every case unusually accurate, also gives the
number 5791.

APPENDIX II.

GENERAL HORATIO GATES.

As a sketch has been given of Burgoyne, it seems
well to say something of General Gates, though he
really deserves no recognition except as having received
the sword of Burgoyne ; for he appears to have been
utterly lacking in personal courage, having not only,
in anticipation of the defeat of the American army at
Saratoga, had his wagoners keep their horses hitched
to the wagons, to be in readiness to retreat in case the
day went against him,* but in his subsequent duel

* While Gates cannot of course be censured for
guarding against every emergency, he certainly looked
forward to a possible retreat; and he was, to say the
least, not animated by the spirit which led Cortez to
burn his ships behind him. At the beginning of the
battle Quartermaster General Lewis was directed to

\i \

'm.

280

The Burgoyne Ballads,

with Wilkinson, and at the unfortunate battle of Cam-
den — in which De Kalb, at the sacrifice of his own
life, played the same role to Gates, though without
the same result, that Arnold did at the battle of Sara-
toga — he showed the same white feather.

General Gates was born in Maiden, England, in
1728. The story told by that unmitigated old woman
gossip. Sir Horace VValpole, that he was a natural son
of Sir Robert Walpole (the father of Horace) is utterly
without foundation* He was born in lawful wedlock,

take eight men with him to the field to convey to Gates
information from time to time concerning the progress
of the action. At the same time, the baggage trains
were all loaded up ready to move at a moment's
notice. The first information that arrived represented
the British troops to exceed the Americans, and the
trains were ordered to move on; but by the time they
were under motion, more favorable news was received,
and the order was countermanded. Thus they con-
tinued to move on and halt alternately until the joyful
news — " The British have retreated" — rang through
the camp, which reaching the attentive guard of the
teamsters, they all with one accord swung their hats,
and gave three long and loud cheers. The glad tidings
were transmitted with such rapidity from one to
another that by the time the victorious troops had
returned to their quarters, the American camp was
thronged with inhabitants from the surrounding country
and formed a scene of the greatest exultation. (Stone's
"Burgoyne's Campaign.")

* Horace Walpole seems to have had a monomania
on the subject of natural sons. See sketch of Bur-
goyne, ante, where he makes that general a natural son
of Lord Bingley — a statement also utterly without
legal foundation.

■

■PI— ■

HSC

The Burgoyne Balhuh.

2S1

his parents having been the butler and the housekeeper
of the Duivc of Leeds. He entered the army — doubt-
less under the auspices of that duke — when a mere
youth, and served in the command of the king's New
York Independent Company. He displayed so much
ability that, in 1755, he was stationed at Halifa.x,
N. S., where, under the patronage of the Honorable
Edward Cornwallis, he rose rapidly to the rank of
major. He was with Braddock in his disastrous
campaign, receiving a shot through the body at the
slaughter of the Monongahcla. At the beginning of the
Revolution he offered his sword to Congress ; and in
July, 1775, he received from that body the commission
of adjutant-general. Two years later, throuj^h cabals
in Conjirress, he was appointed to supersede Schuyler;
and having reaped the fruits of what that general had
so carefully sown, and having also, by the merest
accident, received the sword of Burgoyne, he en-
deavored to supplant Washington, and was appointed
to the command of the Southern Department.* His
disastrous defeat at Camden, however, and his
irresolute, not to say cowardly conduct on that

* Flushed with his fortuitous success, or rather with
the success attending his fortuitous position, he did not
wear his honors gained at Saratoga with any remarka-
ble meekness. On the contrary, his bearing toward
the commander-in-chief was far from respectful. He
did not even write to Washington on the occasion of
the victory until after a considerable time had elapsed ;
and it was not until November 2d that he deigned
to communicate to the commander-in-chief a word
upon the subject, and then only incidentally, as
though it were a matter of but secondary import-
ance.

I "i

\ I

ii]

282

The Burgoyne Ballads.

occasion* soon pricked tlie bubble of his reputation ;
and his subsequent life was mostly passed in compara-
tive obscurity. At the close of the war he retired to his
estate in Virginia, where he lived until 1790, when he
removed to New York City. In 1800 he was elected
to the New York State Legislature, but for political
reasons resigned soon after taking his seat. His death
occurred, after a long illness, at his house, now the
corner of Twenty-second Street and Second Avenue,
then the Bloomingdale Pike. He is buried in Trinity
Churchyard.f

* " I will bring the rascals back with me into line,"
exclaimed Gates, as the militia broke and fled at Camden;
and leaving De Kalb to bear the brunt of the attack,
he spurred after them, not drawing rein till he reached
Charlotte, sixty miles from the field of battle !" (Green's
German Element in the War of American Indepen-
dence^ Perhaps, however, Gates's horse was unman-
ageable and took the bit into his own mouth !

f Through the courtesy of my friend. Rev. Dr. Mor-
gan Dix, I am enabled to set the much-mooted question
as to where Gates is buried, at rest, as will be seen by
the following leaf from the Register of Trinity par-
ish, kindl) copied and sent to me by that gentleman :

180?.

Persons Deceased.

Where Buried.

Age.

Years.

Months.

April II.

General Horatio Gates.

Trinity

A true copy from the Register of Burials of the par-
ish of Trinity Church in the city of New York.

Attest : Morgan Dix, Rector.

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283

Gates was a man of great plausibility and address, of
gentlemanly instincts, of a handsome person and fair
education, and a great lion in society. Though having
many faults, the chief of which was an overweening
confidence in his own ability, combined with arrogance,
untruthfulness and apparently a lack of personal cour-
age, he had also some noble traits of character.
Before removing to New York from Virginia, he
emancipated his slaves, providing for such of them as
could not take care of themselves. In his domestic
relations he was an affectionate husband and father,*
and during the last years of his life a sincere Christian.
He married Mary, only child of James Valence, of
Liverpool, who, at her father's death, before the Rev-
olutionary War, emigrated to this country, bringing
with her $450,000, In the struggle for independence
Mrs. Gates freely expended nearly all of her fortune
in a lavish hospitality upon her husband's companions
in arms, especially those who were in indigent circum-
stances; and many of the Revolutionary heroes were
participants in her bounty, particularly Thaddeus
Kosciusko.t who, when wounded, lay six months at

* For a charming and loving letter to his wife, just
after the battles of Saratoga, see my Burgoynes
Campaign.

f There are, perhaps, few now living who are aware
that Kosciusko left behind him in America a testimo-
nial of his fervent love of liberty, as eminently
characteristic of the man as was his famous reply to
the Emperor Paul, who on Kosciusko's release from
prison wished to restore him his sword. " I have no
need of a sword, since I have no longer a country !"

The will of Kosciusko (on record in the clerk's
office of Albemarle Co., Va.), dated "Wills, 1819,"

\,,

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her house, tenderly nursed by herself and her husband.
Mrs. Gates, who survived her husband, left the residue

was attested by Thomas Jefferson. The will was
written by Kosciusko in 1798, on the occasion of
his visit to America during^ that year, when, having
been released from prison, he came to renew his old
associations. The will reads as follows: " I, Thaddeus
Kosciusko, being just on my departure from America,
do hereby declare and direct that should I make no
other testamentary disposition of my property in the
United States, I hereby authorize my friend, Thomas
Jefferson, to employ the whole thereof in purchasing
negroes from among his own or any others, and giving
them liberty in my name ; in giving them an education
in trades or otherwise, and in having them instructed
for their new condition in the duties of morality,
which may make them good neighbors, good fathers
or mothers, and in their duties as citizens, teaching
them to be defenders of their liberties and country,
and of the good order of society, and in whatsoever
may make them happy and useful. And I make
the said Thomas Jefferson executor of this, 5th day of
May, 1798. T. Kosciusko.

It is not known in what the property of Kosciusko
consisted (very likely land given him, as to Steuben,
John Rose and others, by Congress, in recognition of
their services) nor, indeed, what disposition was made
of it. But whatever the property may have been, the
desire that it should be put to the use indicated by the
will is highly characteristic of the philanthropic patriot,
whose whole life was one of continual sacrifice to the
well-being of others ; who had early emancipated his
own Polish serfs ; who had given money and personal
service to the cause of American freedom ; and whose

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285

of her fortune ($90,000) to several relatives, whose
descendants are still living in New York and Phila-
delphia*

To sum up, had not Gates allowed his ambition to
overstep the bounds of loyalty to his chief, he would
have remained among the first of our Revolutionary
heroes. As it is, he is known merely as the chance
conqueror at Saratoga, and as one, moreover, who, by
base chicanery, endeavored to the utmost of his
ability to supplant Washington himself.

APPENDIX III.

BURGOYNE'S PROCLAMATION.

{From the Providence " Gazette" of August i6t/i, lyjy)

[The following address from General Burgoyne to
the Tories and timid Whigs was last week "received
from Rhode Island, and is here inserted {Connecticut
Journal, August 27th, 1777) lest they should suspect
that any Matter is suppressed which they might sup-
pose tended to their political salvation. As this per-
formance is written in the true Rhodomontade and
bombastic Stile of a Don Quixote, and absolutely
contains almost as many Falsehoods as Assertions, it
is judged unnecessary for the present to make any

last and most strenuous exertions, that found a sad
culmination in his imprisonment for years and exile
from his country, were in behalf of that down-trodden
fatherland. (See Scribners Monthly, February, 1879.)
* Letter from Thomas Singleton, of Philadelphia,
Pa. (a descendant of Mrs. Gates), to the writer.

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

) !.

is I

Remarks thereon. It may, however, not be improper
to observe (from authentic Intelligence received)
that since this curious address made its appearance,
Burgoyne's motley troops (composed of black and
white savages) have actually butchered and scalped a
considerable number oi those very Tories to whom he
had promised Protection, and whose " Undertakings"
he had plighted his Faith to assist and encourage^

Proclamation.

By JOHN BURGOYNE, Esquire, etc., etc., Lieu-
tenant-General of his Majesty's Forces in America,
Colonel of the Queens Regiment of Light Dragoons,
Governor of Fort William in North Britain, one of
the Representatives of the Commons of Great Britain
in Parliament \author of a celebrated Tragic Comedy,
called the Blockade of Boston^ and cotnmanding an
army and FUet in an Expedition from Canada^ etc.,
etc.

" The forces entrusted to my command are designed
to act in concert, and upon a common principle, with
the numerous armies and fleets, which already display
in every quarter of America the power, the mercy of
the king; the cause in which the British arms are
thus exerted appeals to the most affecting interest of
the human heart, and the military servants of the
crown, at first called forth for the sole purpose of
restoring the rights of the constitution, and duty to
their sovereign, the other extensive incitements, which
spring from a due sense 'le general privileges of

mankind. To the eyes a..- jars of the temperate part
of the public, and to the breasts of suffering thousands
in the provinces be the melancholy appeal. Whether
the present unnatural ebellion has not been made the
foundation of the co.npletest system of tyranny that

wamA

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287

ever God, in His displeasure, suffered for a time to
be exercised over a froward and stubborn generation,
arbitrary imprisonments, confiscation of property, perse-
cution and torture^ unprecedented in the inquisitions
of the Romish Church, are among the palpable enor-
mities that verify the affirmation. These are inflicted
by assemblies and committees, who dare to profess
themselves friends to liberty, upon the most quiet
subject, without distinction of age or sex, for the sole
crime, often from the sole suspicion of having adhered
in principle to the government under which they were
born, and to which by every tie divine and hitman they
owe allegiance. To consummate these shocking
proceedings, the profanation of religion is added to
the most profligate prostitution of common reason !
The consciences of men are set at naught, and multi-
tudes are compelled not only to bear arms, but also
tr ear subjection to an usurpation they abhor. Ani-
.ccd by these considerations, at the head of troops
in the full powers of health, discipline and valor, deter-
mined to strike when necessary, and anxious to save
when possible, I, by these presents, invite and exhort
all persons in all places where the progress of this army
may point, and by the blessing of God I will extend
it far, to maintain such a conduct as may justify me in
protecting their lands, habitations and families. The
intention of this address is to hold forth security, not
depredation, to the country ; to those whose spirit and
principle may induce them to partake in the glorious
task of redeeming their countrymen from dungeons,
and re-establishing the blessings of legal government,
I offer encouragement and employment ; and upon the
first intelligence of their association, I will find means
to assist their undertakings. The domestic, the indus-
trious, the infirm, I am desirous to protect, provided

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they remain quietly at their houses, that they do not
suffer their cattle to be removed, or their corn or forage
to be secreted or destroyed ; that they do not break up
their bridges or roads, or by any other acts, directly or
indirectly, endeavor to obstruct the operations of the
king's troops, or supply or assist those of the enemy.
Every species of provision brought to my camp will
be paid for at an equitable rate, in solid coin,

"In consciousness of Christianity, my royal master's
clefuency, and the honor of soldiership, I have dwelt
upon this invitation, and wished for more persuasive
terms to give it Expression: and let not people be led
to disregard it by considering the immediate situation
of my camp : I have but to give stretch to the
Indian forces under my direction — and they amount
to thousands — to overtake the hardened enemies of
Great Britain and America : I consider them the
same wherever they lurk. If notwithstanding these
endeavors and sincere inclination to assist them, the
frenzy of hostility should remain, I trust I shall
stand acquitted in the eyes of God and of men in
denouncing and executing the vengearce of the State
against the wilful outcast. The messengers of justice
and of wrath await them in the field, and devastation,
famine, and every concomitant horror that a reluctant
but indispensable prosecution of military duty must
occasion will bar the way to their return.

"J. BURGOYNE.

'\Camp at the River Bouquet t \sic Bouquet] June 2T,d,
1777. By order of his Excellency, the Lieutenant
General.

" Robert Kingston,

" Sccretaryr

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28a

Comments on the above.

Now, while Burgoyne was greatly ridiculed by the
patriots of the day for this proclamation, yet from the
standpoint of those who most conscientiously believed
it was wrong to rebel against the king and his legiti-
mate government, it seems to me that he only did
what his duty required. Seen now from a distance, it
must be admitted that there were many good men —
men of established integrity — who believed the colonists
were wrong in the stand they took. I know it is the
habit to ridicule all such ; but while myself believing
that the colonists were right in throwing off the yoke
of the mother-couniry — which had become most in-
tolerable — yet it seems to me that some charity should
be exercised toward those who conscientiously at the
time believed the contrary. Hence this practice of
sneering at those who were not willing at once to re-
nounce their allegiance to their king is not to be com-
mended. Take, for example, our late Civil War. We
of the North believed that the South had no right to
rebel ; yet the right to rebel is an inherent right. We
of the North put the rebellion down, and rightly ; still,
had the South been stucessfiil they would have
been considered deserving of praise and would have
been patriots among their own section. They did not ;
hence they were rebels. In the same way, had the
colonists in our Revolutionary contest been un-
successful, they would have been rebels. Success,
after all, makes the great difference. Of course, it must
be taken into account that the South were fighting, so
to speak, for slavery, \\\{\q\\ in itself damned their cause,
2i^^ justly. Still, I think that the inherent right to
rebel is universally admitted. As I say, had the
American colonists not been successful they would

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27ie Bvrgoyne Ballads.

have been rebels, and Washington an arch conspira-
tor. They were successful — hence it was all right ; in
other words, success is the great arbiter of future
opinion.

Burgoyne, therefore, in his proclamation, as a loyal
subject of his king, did right and does not deserve
the sneers which have been thrown at him. Had
the cause of the crown succeeded, Arnold, even, would
have been considered only a man who went back to
his allegiance, in the same way, that, had the South suc-
ceeded, Lee and Davis would now be looked upon as sav-
iours instead of rebels. Still, this does not justify Arnold
in betraying the cause of the colonists, which he had
espoused. Had he come out frankly and above board
and said to Washington, " I am convinced that I have
been wrong, and I herewith renounce my position as
general," no sensible man could have blamed him.
His treachery, however, puts him beyond the pale of
any sympathy. Burgoyne, however, as a loyal sub-
ject of his king does not merit sarcasm.

I V^

APPENDIX IV.

TIMOTHY MURPHY, THE SHARP-
SHOOTER.

The soldier who shot General Eraser was Timothy
Murphy, a native of Pennsylvania. He enlisted in
Northumberland County in July, 1775, in Captain
John Loudon's company, First Pennsylvania Conti-
nental Line. He was detached with Captain James
Parr, who succeeded Loudon, under Morgan, when that
officer was ordered by Washington to the assistance of

The Burgoyne Ballads,

291

General Gates, on August i6th, 1777, and arrived in
Gates's camp on the 2 2d of that month *

The first we hear of Murphy was his being one of
the best shots among Morgan's sharpshooters. At
the second battle of Saratoga the latter noticed repeat-
edly during that conflict a noble-looking British officer,
who, mounted upon a magnificent bluck charger,
dashed from one end of the line to the other, appear-
ing wherever the danger was greatest, and by his
judgment, courage and activity, frequently retrieving
the fortunes of the day when all seemed on the point
of being lost. He recollected having seen this
officer in the battle of September 19th, having on that
occasion admired him for the skill and bravery which
he displayed. While this officer lived, Morgan
considered the issue of the contest a doubtful one.
He therefore, as stated in the text, selected twelve of
his best marksmen, and leading them to a suitable
position, whence he pointed out the doomed officer, he
told them to kill him when next he came within reach
of their rifles.f Several of the sharp-shooters discharged
their pieces without effect, but when Murphy fired
Fraser fell.

Nor, while in Gates's camp, was he distinguished
solely as a " crack shot." His coolness and daring also
made him a man of mark. It is related that "just be-
fore the first battle of Saratoga he went out of the
American camp, and having ascertained the British
countersign, he went into one of their tents, and
seeing an officer writing alone, he whisnered to him
(pointing to his hunting-

ife)

spok

* Letter to the author from
of Harrisburg, Pa.
t Graham's " Lite of Morgan."

Hon. James B. Linn,

292

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he would make daylight shine through him. The offi-
cer, not having a sword or pistols near him, reluctantly
marched before him to the American camp. At the
last battle of Saratoga, in which both armies were
engaged. Murphy was, as he states, within five feet of
Arnold when he passed over the fortifications, sword in
hand. Murphy to the day of his death ascribed the
chief honor of Burgoyne's defeat to General Arnold,
and believed the latter never would have betrayed
his country had he received the honors he so richly
merited."

After the capture of Burgoyne, Murphy returned
with Morgan's corps to the Southern department, and
was also present at the battle of Monmouth in June,
I 778.* A short time after that action, Lieutenant-

* The effective usefulness of this famous body of
experienced riflemen in checking the aggressive and
savage bands of Indians which formed a portion of
Burgoyne's army was soon apparent to General
Gates, to whom VVashington had sent it in August
The corps, as soon as it reached the Northern army,
not only worsted the Indians in the various encoun-
ters in which they became confronted, but it also
created such a panic among the red men that they at
once lost all interest in fighting and scouting for Bur-
goyne, and hastily departed for their homes. Gates
then employed the corps as sharp-shooters and skir-
mishers, in which line of duty it did splendid service.
After Washington's army had been compelled, as the
result of the battle of Brandywine, to retire before the
larger force of Sir William Howe, the commanding
general's situation was such as to ask for its return to
him. His letter to General Gates embodying the re-
quest is as follows :

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293

Colonel William Butler, with the Fourth Pennsyl-
vania Regiment and three companies of rillcmen from
Morgan's corps, under Major Posey, commanded by
Captains Long of Maryland, and Parr and Simpson
of the First Pennylvania, were ordered up to Albany
and thence to Schoharie. Thus, Lieutenants Thomas
Boyd and Timothy Murphy again went to New York
to defend the frontier from the savage enemy ; and
upon the disbanding of those troops — their term of
enlistment having expired — Murphy and some others
remained and served in the militia until the end of the
war. His skill in the desultory war which the Indians
carried on gave him so high a reputation, that though
not nominally the commander, he usually directed all

"Camp near Pottsgrove, September 2^, 1777.

Sir : This army has not been able to oppose Gen-
eral Howe with the success that was wished, and
needs a re-enforcement. I therefore request, if you
have been so fortunate as to oblige General Burgoyne
to retreat to Ticonderoga, or if you have not, and cir-
cumstances will admit, that you will order Colonel
Morgan to join me again with his corps. I sent him
up when I thought you materially wanted him, and if
his services can be dispensed with now, you will direct
him to return immediately. You will perceive I do
not mention this by way of command, but leave you
to determine upon it according to your situation ; if
they come, they should proceed by way of water from
Albany as low down as Peekskill ; in such case you
will give Colonel Morgan the necessary orders to join
me with dispatch. I am, sir, your most obedient
servant,

" Go. Washington.

" Major-General Gates."

'!!

294

The Burgoyne Ballads.

the movements of the scouts that were sent out, and
on many important occasions the commanding offi-
cers found it dangerous to neglect his advice ; his
double rijle, his skill as a marksman, and his fleetness,
either in retreat or pursuit, made him an object both
of dread and of vengeance to the Indians ; they
formed many plans to destroy him, but he always
eluded them, and sometimes made them suffer for
their temerity.

He fought the Indians with their own weapons.
When circumstances permitted, he tomahawked and
scalped his fallen enemy ; and he boasted after the war
that he had slain forty of the enemy with his own
hand, more than half of whom he had scalped : he
took delight in perilous adventures, and seemed to
love danger for its own sake.

The Indians were unable to conjecture how he
could discharge his rifle twice without having time to
reload; and his singular good fortune in escaping un-
hurt led them to suppose that he was attended by
some invisible being, who warded off their bullets and
sped his with unerring certainty to the mark. When
they had learned the mystery of his doubled-barrelled
rifle, they were careful not to expose themselves too
much until he had fired twice, knowing that he must
have time to reload his piece before he could do them
further injury.

One day having separated from his party, he was
pursued by a number of Indians, all of whom he out-
ran, excepting one; Murphy turned round, fired upon
this Indian, and killed him. Supposing that the
others had given up the pursuit, he stopped to strip
the dead, when the rest of his pursuers came in sight.
He snatched the rifle of his fallen foe, and with it
killed one of his pursuers ; the rest, now sure of their

MKlU^MH^

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n!Rnes^i>xsu!iC^>'.:^ ^y.i^'pS,

The Burgoyne litdhida.

295

prey, with a yell of joy heedlessly rushed on, ho{)injr
to make him their prisoner. He was ready to drop
down with fatij^ue, and was likely to be overtaken,
when, turning round, he discharged the remaining bar-
rel of his ritle, and killed the foremost of the Indians.
The rest, astonished at his firing three times in succes-
sion, tied, crying out that he had "a great medicine of a
gun that would shoot all day without loading." In-
deed, so dangerous was Murphy regarded, that it was
not long before the Tories set an extra price on his
scalp — a price that was never paid, although many
Indians lost i/icir scalp in trying to win the reward.
One of the attempts to capture him which is still
handed down in Schoharie tradition, as having occurred
toward the close of the Revolution, was as follows :
Murphy had a cow, on the neck of which he had placed
a bell, that he might the better find her in the woods.
A shrewd Indian took the bell oft the cow's neck, and
having placed it on his own, went jingling it about in
the woods, hoping by this means to entice the cow's
owner v/ithin killing or capturing distance. The scout,
however, knew too well the dififerent music produced
by a cow and an Indian; and so driving the animal
home from another part of the woods, he left the
" ding-dong" warrior to the enjoyment of his own wit.
On another occasion, while on Sullivan's expedition,
he and twenty-five others were surrounded by five hun-
dred Tories and Indians, under Butler and Brant. Two
attempts to cut their way out had resulted in failure,
with the loss of seventeen of their number. The third"
attempt was more successful ; for Murphy, having
tumbled a huge warrior into the dust (which caused
his dusky brethren to laugh even in the heat of battle),
eff"ected an opening in the circle, through which his
comrades fled — sazcve qui pent — the Indians giving

296

The Burgoyne Ballads.

chase. After a little Murphy observed that he had
distanced all his pursuers except two — one a tall and
the other a short Indian. Several times as they neared
him he would raise his rifle (which was unloaded) as
if to shoot, whereupon they would fall back. Finding
as he ran that, owing to the swelling of his feet, his
moccasins began to pain him, he opened a clasp-knife,
and while running slit the tops of the moccasins (at
the risk of cutting the tendons of his feet) and so got
relief. Shortly after, entering a swale and getting his
feet caught in the long grass, he fell at full length. It
was to this at first seemingly untoward accident that
he owed his temporary safety and final escape ; for the
long grass affording a favorable place for concealment,
he lay st'll until his pursuers had passed on. Loading
his rifle, he went on his way rejoicing at his fortunate
escape, and with reason ; for had he been captured he
knew that any hope for mercy would have been in
vain, since at that very time he had an Indian's scalp
in his pocket and the same hairless redskin's moccasins
on his feet. He had not gone far, however, before he
saw an Indian approaching him. The discovery was
mutual, and they simultaneously took trees. After
dodging each other for some time. Murphy resorted
to a very old and, one would think, a worn-out ruse.
He drew his ramrod, and placing his hat upon it, gently
moved it on one side of the tree. The Indian at once
put a ball through it, and it dropped. Whereupon,
running up to obtain the scalp, he received Murphy's
bullet in his breast ; and as he fell he exclaimed,
" O-nah !" Lieutenant Boyd, the commander of the
party, and who attempted to escape with Murphy, was
less fortunate. Less fleet of foot, he was captured and
subjected to horrible torture. The Seneca Indians,
under Little Beard and instigated by Butler, made an

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297

incision in his abdomen, fastened his intestines to a
tree, and compelled him to walk around it until they
were all drawn out. They then enlarged his mouth,
• dug his nails out, cut his tongue out and his ears otf,
cut his nose off and put it in his mouth, dug his eyes
out, and as he was dying cut off his head, which was
their most humane act. "After this," says a writer
personally cognizant of the affliir, " there began to be
mysterious disappearances of Tories and Indians ; and
it was noticed that, coincident with each disappear-
ance, there would be a brush-heap fire in the vicinity,
in which the missing person was last seen. It is to be
supposed that calcined bones might have been found
by those who cared to look in the ashes of these brush
fires. The remaining Tories and Indians took the hint,
and left that part of the country, so that the inhabitants
at length breathed freer."

At the close of the war, Murphy, who had mean-
time married, instead of returning to his native State,
Pennsylvania, settled in Schoharie as a farmer. But,
if tradition is to be believed, his old habits still clung
to him. When peace was declared many of the Scho-
harie Indians had the temerity to return and settle
again among a people whose houses and barns they
had burned and whose friends and relatives had fallen
beneath their tomahawks. Among them was one
Indian, named Seth Henry, who had killed more Scho-
harie people than any other man. His nature, even
for an Indian, seemed an unusually cruel one; and
he would sometimes leave a war-club upon the dead
body of his victim, with a horrid row of notches cut
on it, each notch indicating a scalp taken. An ener-
getic savage, he once led a party from Fort Niagara
in the winter to capture certain Schoharie patriots ;
and he succeeded, travelling six hundred miles, though,'

^ I

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The Burgoyne Ballads.

to do so. He, too, had the audacity to come back, but
he was much upon his guard. One day he started to
go from one house to another. Murphy was also ob-
served to go in the same direction shortly afterward ;
and it is a curious coincidence that, as far as can be
ascertained, Seth Henry never reached his destination,
nor was he ever afterward seen either alive or dead.

Murphy's passions were easily aroused, and as is the
case with such natures, as easily subdued. The follow-
ing anecdote is an instance in point.* Some time in
the latter part of the Revolution Murphy had charge
of a small scout which went to reconnoitre in the
vicinity of Oquago. While there they took three pris-
oners, one of whom was a Scotch lad, and soon after
started on their return to Schoharie. In the night the
boy escaped, taking along Murphy's rifle, an act not
very pleasing to the fearless ranger. Some months
afterward the boy was retaken by another scout, and
with him the stolen firelock. When its owner learned
that the boy was taken, and was approaching as a pris-
oner, his passions took fire, and he declared his inten-
tion of killing him, arming himself with a tomahawk
for that purpose. Elerson, a fellow-scout, and who
told this anecdote to Mr. Simms, reasoned the matter
with him. He told him to put himself in the boy's
place, and asked if he, similarly situated, would not
have acted in the same manner as the boy had done.
Murphy's better nature soon yielded to this reasoning;
his anger was appeased, and the boy was brought into
his presence without receiving any injury. The boy
was afterward taken to Albany and sold, according to
the custom of those times, into servitude for a short
period. Murphy, speaking of this affair after the war,

* Related by Jeptha R. Simms.

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299

expressed his gratitude that he was prevented by his
friend from injuring the lad who had stolen his gun.

He had also a good heart. On one occasion, on
March 15th, 1784, the ice lodged in the river near Mid-
dieburg and overflowed the flats near his residence.
Many cattle and sheep were swept off in the freshet
and killed. In an attempt to save the family of John
Adam Brown, a near neighbor, he waded into the water
among the floating pieces of ice, and succeeded in bear-
ing to a place of safety his two sons ; but Brown him-
self and Lana, his only daughter, then about twelve
years old, were, unfortunately, in the lower part of the
house and were drowned.

Many anecdotes are also told of Murphy's great skill
as a marksman. The two following seem well authen-
ticated, and are taken from Simms's " Frontiersmen of
Nev^ York :"

During the winter of 1781-82 Murphy killed quite
a number of deer on the Schoharie mountains, and
dressed their pelts very handsomely. In the spring, to
break the monotony of a camp life, he got up a shoot-
ing match at the Upper Fort, by way of testing the
skill of his comrades in arms in the sale of his deer-
skins. He occasionally took a shot himself, and usu-
ally won back his property ; but as some objected to
his firing, he desisted, as he had been well paid for it,
and whoever could bore off the beautiful buff leather.
After the skins were all disposed of, " Now," says Mur-
phy, " let us shoot for a gallon of rum." A large white
oak tree was " blazed" near the ground, a line drawn
round in the exposed wood, and in the circle a small
piece of white paper was fastened by a brass nail. The
distance fired was one hundred yards. Several close
shots had been made, and it became Murphy's turn to
fire. He laid down on the ground at full length, rest-

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ing his rifle on his hat, as others of his competitors had
done, and after glancing over the harrel, he was heard
to say, " Sure, and I believe I can see that nail." Again
he sighted his piece ; it exploded and the paper fell.
An examination showed -a centre shot ; the ball had
driven the nail exactly in.

Again, in the fall of 1799, four Schoharie rifle-
men of Revolutionary days and deeds met at the
residence of Captain Jacob Hager, in Blenheim, on
their return from either a hunt or a shooting
match. Before separating, it was proposed to shoot
at a mark. A target was made by pinning a small
piece of white paper to a board some two feet long,
and the parties repaired to a field a few rods south of the
house. They paced off one hundred yards from their
standing point, to which the target was taken by one of
the four, who held it between his knees to receive the
bullet of a comrade, who in turn held it for another, it
being thus alternately held until all had fired. Each of
the first three shots cut the edge of the paper — that
of William Leek on the right, that of David Elerson
on the left, that of a third, whose name is now for-
gotten, on the bottom. Murphy made the last shot,
and the paper fell. On examination it was found
that his ball had driven the pin through the board.*

* David Elerson, mentioned in the text, and who
was a private in Captain Long's company of Mor-
gan's rifle corps, and a companion of Murphy in many
hazardous enterprises, related the following anecdote
to Mr. Simms in 1837: "Morgan's riflemen had
acquired much celebrity as marksmen while under
Gates. When in the vicinity of Albany, on their
return from the Northern army a gentleman near
whose residence they halted expressed a wish to

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In person Murphy was stout and well made, with dark
complexion, rather a large body and small limbs, hand-
some in face, with jet black hair, and an eye that
would kindle and flash like the lightning when
excited. He was exceedingly quick in all his motions,
and possessed an iron frame that nothing apparently
could affect. What, moreover, is very remarkable,
his body was never wounded or even scarred during
the whole war.*

"It was Murphy's misfortune," says Simms, "like
many other master spirits of the Revolution, not to
have the advantages of an early education, even such
as our common schools now afford. In fact, he
possessed not those elements of an education — the
art of reading and writing. For this reason he

witness their skill. The captain signified his will-
ingness to gratify his curiosity, and a piece of paper
was fastened upon a small poplar tree. Elerson
handed his rifle — one of the best in the company — to
John Gassaway, who took a surer aim than himself.
The rifle was levelled one hundred yards distant from the
mark and fired. The leaden messenger passed through
the paper and the tree, splitting the latter several
inches and ruining it. Said the gentleman, looking
at his crippled tree, which had been converted into
a weeping willow (it will be remembered that fashion
had made the poplar a very desirable shade tree), ' I
do not wonder the Indians are afraid of Morgan's
riflemen, if that is the way they shoot.' He then
treated the company to liquor, as was the custom of
the times, expressed his satisfaction at their skill,
and the troops resumed their march."

* Communicated to the writer by one who knows a
friend of Murphy.

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declined accepting a proffered commission, know-
ing that he would be subjected to much inconven-
ience and be liable to be imposed upon by design-
ing men. Had he been an educated man, he might
have made another Wayne or Morgan ; but the want
of the rudiments of an education compelled him to
see others less fitted in other respects than himself
occupying stations of profit and honor." At the
termination of the Revolutionary war he took charge
of his father-in-law's farm. He appears to have been
a citizen much respected in his county, and as a
father he was indulgent to a fault, having, says Simms,
been known to bring home from Albany for a
daughter some five or six dresses at one time.

Although Murphy could neither read nor write, yet
he was a powerful stump speaker, and for many years
wielded powerful political influence in Schoharie
County. He was largely instrumental in bringing his
young friend and neighbor, the Honorable William C.
Bouck, into public life, was zealous in obtaining for
him the appointment of sheriff, and indirectly contrib-
uted to his subsequent election as Governor. Murphy
died of a cancer upon his neck, June 27th, 18 18, which
was said by some to have been caused by his exposure
while attempting to rescue the Brown family in 1 784,
and by others, by the recoil of his rifle on his cheek.*

*The late General Epaphras Hoyt, of Deerfield,
Mass., a most accomplished writer and reliable historian,
left at his death a work for publication, with maps, en-
titled " Burgoyne's Campaign." He Served under
Gates, and his published letter on a visit to the Saratoga
battlefields not only corroborates the above incidents
in Murphy's life, but is a most valuable military criti-
cism of those battles. We intend to give this letter

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APPENDIX V.

LADY HARRIET ACLAND.

Two shining examples of female conjugal devotion
stand out prominently in our Revolutionary annals —
the Baroness Riedesel and Lady Harriet Acland.
The life of the former has been given with accuracy
in her "Letters and Journals:" that of the latter has
never been narrated either with fulness or correctness.
To supply this defect is the object of the present
paper.

Lady Harriet, as she was commonly called, was the
fifth daughter of Stephen, first Earl of Ilchester, and
a cousin of the celebrated Charles James Fox. She
was born on January 3d, 1750. Her full name
v^as Christian Henrietta Caroline Fox Strangways,
and she was married in September, 1770, to John
Dyke Acland, of Columb-John, Devonshire. Her
elder sister was the Lady Susan O'Brien — mentioned
in "Graydon's Memoirs" and in the writer's *' Life of
Sir William Johnson" — who in June, 1765, was, with
her husband, a recipient of the courtly hospitality of
the baronet at Johnson Hall. By her marriage with
William O'Brien, an actor, in the spring of the previ-
ous year, she had alienated her family, and had conse-
quently sailed with her husband for America, arriving
in New York in April. Sir William Johnson was
advised of their arrival by her uncle, the first Lord
Holland, who in April wrote to him detailing the

in our forthcoming work on " The Visits to the
Saratoga Battlefield," shortly to be issued by Munsell's
Sons.

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circumstances of the marriage, and requesting his
friendly offices for his niece, who had "just emigrated
to the wild woods of America." From letters of
Lady Susan in the writer's possession it appears that
her host and his Indian wife did everything in their
power to render their visit agreeable, and that the
baronet was equally at home whether entertaining the
rude savage or the scion of a noble house. Molly
Brant is spoken of particularly as a " well-bred and
pleasant lady," who in many a ramble with her lady-
ship proved a " delightful companion." Nor was this
kindly feeling entirely one-sided. So much did his
high-born guest interest Sir William in her favor that
shortly after Lady Susan and her husband returned to
New York he wrote a letter to Lord Holland begging
that the young couple might be again received into
the good graces of his family — urging, among other
things, that O'Brien seemed to be a "very worthy
young man, possessing in the highest degree the affec-
tions of his wife."

Lady Harriet appears to have been full as warm-
hearted and romantic as her sister, and, although her
affections did not lead her into defying the opinions
of her family and making a runaway match, yet her
conjugal love was equally shown by her braving the
perils of a long ocean-voyage and enduring the trials
and hardships of a camp-life in an enemy's country
rather than be separated from the husband of her
choice.

When Burgoyne made up his staff for his contem-
plated campaign in America, he selected to command
the grenadiers Major Acland, an officer greatly in his
confidence and possessing high professional attain-
ments and brilliant courage. Lady Harriet, like the
Baroness Riedesel refusing to allow her husband

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to brave the perils of war alone, insisted upon
accompanying him to Canada, where they arrived on
the last day of June, 1776. Late in the fall of that
year the Major, leaving his wife in Montreal, occupied
Chambly with the Twentieth Regiment of foot. Soon
after taking up his quarters in that fort he fell danger-
ously ill; and it was here, while languishing in a miser-
able log hut and destitute of the commonest comforts
of life, that he was nursed back to health by his faith-
ful wife, \:ho upon hearing of his condition, in the
face of the rigors of an unusually severe Canadian
w^inter and of her own precarious state of health, had
hurried on in an open sled to attend him.

On the opening of the campaign the following year
the army left its winter quarters, which it was destined
never again to occupy, and pushed on to Ticonderoga.
Lady Harriet, however, remained behind in Montreal,
her husband, in view of the certain hazards of the
approaching campaign, positively refusing her permis-
sion to be his companion. But chance soon afforded
this indomitable woman an opportunity of disregard-
ing his commands. In the action of July 7th, at
Hubbardtown, Major Acland was badly wounded.
No sooner was this known by his wife when she left
Montreal, and having, by the courtesy of General
Carleton, been afforded every facility for passing up
Lake Champlain, she rejoined her husband at Skenes-
borough (Whitehall), whither he had been conveyed
after the action of the 7th. After his recovery, which
he owed in all probability to the careful nursing of his
wife, he had no longer the heart to separate her from
him ; and as soon as the army arrived at Fort Edward
he obtained for her use a two-wheeled tumbrel which
had been constructed by the artificers of the artillery
— a vehicle somewhat similar to the carriages used a

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century since for the mails upon the great roads of
England. During the day she travelled with the bag-
gage-train in the rear of the army, and at night she
shared her husband's tent, which, as Major Acland
commanded the grenadiers, was always the most
advanced post. Indeed, it was this latter circum-
stance that just before the army crossed the Hudson
led to an accident which had nearly proved fatal to
both husband and wife. Major Acland being with
the advanced guard, and therefore compelled to be
constantly on the alert, kept a lighted candle in his
tent throughout the night. It chanced, while the
major and his wife were asleep, that a favorite New-
foundland dog in moving round upset tlie candle,
which, rolling to the side of the tent, set it on fire.
Fortunately, an orderly sergeant who was on guard
close by rushed in at great risk to himself and dragged
out the first person he caught hold of. This proved
to be the major himself, who in turn, fearing for his
wife's safety, ran back in search of her. The latter,
however, had already made her escape by creeping
under the walls of the tent into the open air; and the
faithful sergeant, dashing in once more, again rescued
his officer, though not before the latter had been
severely burned about the face and arms. All their
camp-equipage — everything, in fact, except the clothes
in which they had slept — was destroyed, but, as Bur-
goyne remarks, " it altered neither the resolution nor
cheerfulness of Lady Harriet, and she continued her
progress, a partaker of the fatigues of the advanced
corps." Nor was it in her wifely devotion alone that
her humanity was shown. She was not only the idol of
her husband, but, together with the Baroness Riedesel,
elicited the admiration of the whole army. She was
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privates of her husband's corps whenever she had any-
thing among her stores that she thought would gratify
them. In return, she received from them every atten-
tion which could mitigate the hardships she daily en-
countered.

The next call upon her fortitude was of a different
nature, and more distressing because of longer sus-
pense. "On the march of September 19th," writes
General Burgoyne, " the grenadiers being liable to
action at every step, she had been directed by the
major to follow the route of the artillery and baggage,
which was not exposed. At the time the action at
Freeman's Farm began she found herself near a small,
uninhabited hut, where she alighted. When it was
found the action was becoming general and bloody,
the surgeons of the hospital took possession of the
same place as the most convenient for the first care of
the wounded. Thus was this lady within hearing of
one continued fire of cannon and musketry for four hours
together, with the presumption, from the post of her
husband at the head of the grenadiers, that he was in
the most exposed part of the action. She had three
female companions — the Baroness Riedesel and the
wives of two British officers, Major Harnage and
Lieutenant Reynell — but in the event their presence
served but little for comfort. Major Harnage was
soon brought to the surgeons very badly wounded, and
a little time after came intelligence that Lieutenant
Reynell was shot dead. Imagination will want no
helps to figure the state of the whole group."

In the second battle of Saratoga (October 7th)
Major Acland commanded the grenadiers, who, after
maintaining their ground with the greatest and
most persistent valor, were finally forced to retreat,
leaving the eminence on which they had been

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stationed "a scene," in the lanj^uage of Wilkinson,
"of complicated horror and exultation." In the
square space of twelve yards of ground eighteen grena-
diers lay in the agonies of death, while three officers
were propped up against stumps of trees, two of them
mortally wounded and almost speechless. While pur-
suing the Hying grenadiers Wilkinson heard a feeble
voice exclaim, " Protect me, sir, against that boy."
Turning his eyes, he saw a lad taking deliberate aim
at a wounded British officer, whom he at once knew to
be Major Acland. Wilkinson dismounted, and, taking
him by the hand, expressed the hope that he was not
badly wounded. *' Not badly," replied the gallant
officer, " but very inconveniently, as 1 am shot through
both legs. Will you, sir, have the goodness to have
me conveyed to your camp?" VVilkinson at once
directed his orderly to alight, and, lifting the wounded
man into the vacant seat, had him conveyed to head-
quarters.

During the battle Lady Harriet was stationed in a
tent on the river bank about a mile to the left of the
scene of action, in full hearing of the roar of the artil-
lery and surrounded by the wounded that from time
to time were brought in, and whose dying groans were
not calculated to diminish the agony of her suspense.
" My Lady Acland," writes the Baroness Riedesel in
alluding to events at this particular time, " 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. We comfort'^d her by
saying that it was only a slight wound ; but as no one
could uurse him as well as herself, we counselled her
'o go at once to him, to do which she certainly could
obtain permission. She loved him very much, although

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he was a plain, rou^jjh man. lie was an cxccIUmU offi-
cer, and she the most lovely {allcrlicbstc) of all
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." " You can natu-
rally conceive," writes Lieutenant Aubrey at this time,
" what were the feelings of Lady Harriet — having
every apprehension not only for her husband, but for
her brother*^ — who, after hearing the whole of the
action, at last received the shock of her indivitlual
misfortune, mixed with the general calamity of the de-
feat."

The day after the battle was passed by Lady Harriet
and her companions, the Baroness Ricdcscl and the
wives of the other officers, among the wounded and
dying, since not a tent or a shed was standing except
what belonged to the hospital. Tier suspense, more-
over, was rendered the greater from the fact that no
tidings had been received from her husband '^iiice the
first announcement of his capture. Her unhappiness
would have been increased had she known that the
British had that very day refused a flag under cover of
which General Wilkinson, with his usual gallantry tow-
ard the fair sex, attempted at every part of the line to
convey a letter to her from her husband, then in Gates's
camp.

Meanwhile, Burgoyne, having scrupulously fulfilled
the dying wish of his loved companion-in-arms, the

Hon. Stephen Digby Strangways — the brother of
Lady Acland mentioned in the text — was a captain in
the Twenty-fourth Regiment of foot, and upon the
promotion of Captain William Agnew to the majority
of the regiment (July 14th, 1777) became its senior
captain.

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chivalric Fraser, began his retreat on the evening of the
8th in the midst of a pouring rain, and two hours before
daybreak of the 9th arrived at Dovegat, where he halted.
During the halt at Dovegat* there occurred one of
those incidents which relieve with fairer lights and
softer tints the gloomy picture of war. The circum-
stances which led to this incident are thus given by the
Baroness Riedesel : " During this halt it rained in tor-
rents. My Lady Acland had her tent set up. I ad-
vised her once more to betake herself to her husband,
as she could be so useful to him in his present situation.
Finally, she yielded to my solicitations, and sent a mes-
sage to General Burgoyne, through his adjutant, my
Lord Patterson [Petersham], begging permission to
have the camp ; I told her she should insist on it ;
which she did, and finally obtained his consent. . . .
I saw her again afterward in Albany, at which time
her husband was almost entirely recovered, and both
thanked me heartily for my advice." This case of pri-
vate distress, if we may believe Aubrey, greatly increased
the cares and anxieties with which Burgoyne was at
this time surrounded. Regarding, however, the man-
ner in which that general received Lady Acland's
request no doubt can be entertained. "When the
army," he writes, " was on the point of moving after

* Within the last year ( 1 893), this " Dovegat House "
has been torn down ; almost the last existing land-
mark of " Burgoyne's Campaign." It is very sad to
think that then is not enough patriotism among the
American people to prevent such an pct of vandalism ;
but so it goes! Indeed it is shameful that New York
State should not have prevented this by buying it,
even if the State should have had to surround it with
a wall of glass !

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311

the halt described, I received a message from Lady
Harriet submitting to my decision a proposal (and ex-
pressing an earnest solicitude to execute it if not inter-
fering with my designs) of passing to the camp of the
enemy and requesting General Gates's 'permission to
attend her husband. Though I was ready to believe
(for I had experienced) 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 aston-
ished at this proposal. After so long an agitation of
spirits, exhausted not only by want of rest, but abso-
lutely by want of food, drenched in rains for twelve
hours together, that a woman should be capable of
such an undertaking as delivering herself to the enemy,
probably in the night and uncertain of what hands she
might first fall into, appeared an effort above human
nature. The assistance I was enabled to give was
small indeed. I had not even a cup of wine to offer
her, but I was told she had found from some kind and
fortunate hand a little rum and dirty water. All I
could furnish to her was an open boat and a few lines,
written upon dirty wet paper, to General Gates, recom-
mending her to his protection.

" Let such," continues Burgoyne, " as are affected by
these circumstances of alarm, hardship, and danger
recollect that the subject of them was a woman — of
the most tender and delicate form, of the gentlest man-
ners, habituated to all the soft elegancies and refined
enjoyments that attend high birth and fortune, and far
advanced in a state in which the tender cares always due
to the sex become indispensably necessary. Her mind
alone was formed for such trials."

The letter given her by Burgoyne, and now among
the "Gates Papers" in the New York Historical So-
ciety, reads as follows :

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'* Sir : Lady Harriet Acland, a lady of the first dis-
tinction of family rank and personal virtues, is under
sucii concern on account of Major Acland, her hus-
band, wounded and a prisoner in your hands, that I
cannot refuse her request to comrr " *^er to your pro-
tection. Whatever general impn ty there may be
in persons of my situation and you.:, to solicit favors,
I cannot see the uncommon perseverance in every
female grace and exaltation of character of this lady,
and her very hard fortune, without testifying that your
attentions to her will lay me under obligation.
" I am, sir, your obedient servant,

"J. Burgoyne."

As an additional protection, another letter was also
furnished by Burgoyne's deputy adjutant-general, Rob-
ert Kingston. This letter — likewise preserved among
the "Gates Papers" — was written in the open air, in
the midst of a pouring rain, as is evident from the
stains of the water-splashes with which the paper is
thickly sprinkled, and is as follows :

"October 9th, 1777.

"The Rev* Mr. Brudenel, chaplain to the staff, ac-
companies Lady Harriet Acland as a protection till
she arrives at M' Gen' Gates's quarters.

"His Excellency, Lieut.-Gen' Burgoyne, makes no
doubt he will be treated with every regard due to his
character, and allowed to return the first convenient
opportunity.

" R' Kingston, D. Adf-GenK
" To Mr Genl Gates."

In the midst of a driving autumnal storm, and with
nothing but a little spirits and water, obtained from the
wife of a soldier, to sustain her. Lady Harriet set out
at dusk in an open boat for the American camp. She

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313

was accompanied by Rev. Edward Brudenel, by Han-
nah Degraw, her waiting-maid, and by her husband's
valet, who had been wounded in the shoulder while
searching for his master upon the battlefield. Another
of her companions was Mr. George Williams, a young
gentleman from Newfoundland, who in after years be-
came a colonel in the army and the first member
of Parliament for Ashton-under-Lyne. He survived
until December, 1850 — the very last, in all probability,
of Burgoyne's army. At ten o'clock they reached the
American advanced guard, under the command of
Major Henry Dearborn. Lady Harriet herself hailed
the sentinel, and as soon as the guard, apprehensive of
treachery, had very properly communicated with Major
Dearborn, the bateau was allowed to land. This delay
was only momentary, and not "seven or eight dark
and cold hours," as stated by Burgoyne in his " State
of the Expedition." Upon landing, the party, carry-
ing with them their bedding and other necessaries,
were immediately guided to the log cabin of Dearborn,
who had been ordered to detain the flag until morning,
the night being exceedingly dark and the quality of
the lady unknown. Major Dearborn gallantly gave
up his room to his fair guest, a fire was kindled, a cup
of hot tea provided, and as soon as Lady Harriet had
made herself known her mind was relieved of its anx-
iety by the assurance of her husband's safety. •' I vis-
ited," says Adjutant-General Wilkinson, " the guard
before sunrise. Lady Acland's boat had put off, and
was floating down the stream to our camp, where Gen-
eral Gates, whose gallantry will not be denied, stood
ready to receive her with all the tenderness and respect
to which her rank and condition gave her a claim.
Indeed, the feminine figure, the benign aspect, and
polished manners of this charming woman were alone

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sufficient to attract the sympathy of the most obdu-
rate ; but if another motive could have been want-
ing to inspire respect, it was furnished by the peculiar
circumstances of Lady Harriet, then in that most deli-
cate situation which cannot fail to interest the solicitude
of every being possessing the form and feelings of a
man. It was therefore the foulest injustice to brand
an American officer [Major Dearborn] with the failure
of courtesy where it was so highly merited."

But while General Gates was disposed to, and did,
accord to Lady Harriet a most courteous and hearty
welcome, both for her own sake and the amenities of
military etiquette, he was not willing that, as between
himself and the British commander, these courtesies
should be all on one side. Justly indignant at the in-
excusable conduct of Burgoync during his retreat, he
sent him the following polite yet caustic reply to the
letter brought by Lady Harriet :

" Saratoga, October 1 2th, 1777.

" Sir : I had the honor to receive Your Excellency's
letter by Lady Acland. The respect due to her lady-
ship's rank, the tenderness due to her person and sex,
were alone sufficient recommendations to entitle her to
my protection ; and, considering my preceding con-
duct with respect to those of your army whom the
fortune of war has placed in my hands, I am surprised
Your Excellency should think tiiat I could consider
the greatest attention to Lady Acland in the light of
an obligation.

"The cruelties which marked the retreat of your
army in burning the gentlemen's and farmers' houses
as it passed along is almost, among civilized nations,
without precedent : they should not endeavor to ruin
those they could not conquer ; their conduct betrays

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more of the vindictive malice of the monk than the
generosity of the soldier.

"Your friend, Sir Francis Gierke, by the imforma-
tion of Dr. Potts, the director-general of my hospital,
languishes under a very dangerous wound ; every sort of
tenderness and attention is paid to him, as well as to
all the wounded who have fallen into my hands, and
the hospital which you were necessitated to leave to
my mercy. . . .

" I am, sir, etc.,

" Horatio Gates.

" General Burgoyne."

Lady Harriet tarried a few days in the American
camp, during which time " she was treated by General
Gates," writes Dr. Thacher, " with the tenderness of a
parent ;" and then, under the escort of that general, she
rejoined her husband in Albany, whither he had been
conveyed the day after the action of the 7th. In a
letter written at this time to his wife General Gates
thus speaks of his distinguished prisoners and guests :
" I hope Lady Acland will be here when you arrive.
She is the most amiable, delicate piece of quality you
ever beheld. Her husband is one of the prettiest
fellows I have seen — learned, sensible and an English,
man to all intents and purposes ; has been a most con-
founded Tory, but I hope to make him as good a
Whig as myself before we separate."

After remaining in Albany until her husband's
wounds were healed, Lady Harriet accompanied him
to New York ; and while in that city on his parole,
before returning to England, the major reciprocated
the kindness shown to his wife by doing all in his
power to mitigate the sufferings of the American
prisoners.

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Hitherto, Lady Harriet's life, after her return to
England, has been little known, and that little very
incorrectly stated. It has been published as veracious
history that shortly after the arrival of her husband and
herself in England the former became involved in an
altercation with a Lieutenant Lloyd, a brother-officer,
in which he ^ tended the Americans against the as-
persion of cowardice ; that a duel followed, which
resulted in the death of Major Acland, who fell at the
first fire ; and that Lady Harriet thereupon became
insane, remained so for two years, and finally married
Chaplain BT"i~vj:l Wilkinson appears to have
first given «.urr :n« -'■ to this story, and he has since
been followed by iVJ s. Ellet, Mr. Lossing, Fonblanque
in his " T^if'^ of Burgoyi.r-, ' inyself in the " Campaign of
Burgoyne," ana iu fact, ' ■ ''\\ who have written on
this subject. Even wlib.s -.v ^v^urton, in a letter to
her nephew, the late Sir John iju.goyne (Fonblanque,
p. 301), relates substantially the same slory, varying
the narrative, however, by stating that the duel was
fought with swords and that Acland, in " making a
pass at his adversary, slipped on a pebble, struck his
temple upon it in falling, and instantly expired."

Being desirous of ascertaining what the truth really
was, I recently wrote to Sir Thomas Dyke Acland, of
Exeter, England,, whose father was an own nephew of
Major Acland, asking what were the real facts of the
case. He with great courtesy replied at once, stating
that all the generally received statements regarding
his aunt's and uncle's last days were without the least
foundation ; that Major Acland died in his bed of a
cold shortly after his return to England ; and, further,
that Lady Harriet remained a widow until her death,
at Tetton, on July 21st, 18 15. In corroboration
of this latter statement. Sir Thomas Acland enclosed

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317

me a copy of the burial-rejjister of the parish where
Lady Harriet lies, in which she is called ' The Right
Hon. Lady Harriet Acland, widow."

In person Lady Harriet was highly graceful and
delicate ; her manners were elegantly feminine, her
outward personal charms being in harmony with those
of her mind.* While wrapped up in the care of her
children, hers was not a selfish devotion which would
shut out all sympathy for others and forbid appreciation
of those with whom she had been united in ties of in-
terest and affection, whether in high or low station.
There is yet standing in a quaint little churchyard in
Beckenham, Kent, with a solitary yew tree watching
over it like a faithful sentinel, a moss-grown slab bear-
ing this inscription : " To the memory of Hannah
Degraw,born at New York i8th May, 1 742. Erected
by Lady Acland in grateful remembrance of thirty-six
years' services."

On Lady Harriet's return to England she was, for a
time, the cynosure of all eyes. Mrs. Perez Newton
commemorated her sufferings in a touching poem ;
and before she left New York a portrait of her lady-
ship, standing in a boat with a white handkerchief in
her hand, as a flag of truce, was exhibited at the Royal
Academy, London. An engraving from this picture
was extensively circulated in Europe and America ;
and long after the incident to which it gave rise had
faded from public remembrance, she herself continued

* The picture of Lady Acland, one of the alto rilievos
in the Saratoga monument, is a correct likeness of that
lady, having been taken from a photogra[)h of a paint-
ing of her by Sir Joshua Reynolds. This photograph
was taken and very kindly sent me by the late Lord
Carnarvon, a grandnephew of Lady Acland.

' 4

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to be regarded with a respect and tenderness rarely
accorded even to one of her sex. But to her the
scenes through which she had passed were ever vivid ;
and, as the widow of General Montgomery — who for
forty years had remained faithful to the memory of
her " soldier," as she always called him — swooned away
as the steamboat passed her mansion on the North
River bearing the body of her husband to its final
resting-place beneath St. Paul's, so Lady Harriet
Acland, though surviving /ler " soldier" thirty-seven
years, could never hear an allusion to him without
tears. "iAttached to her husband as she was," writes
Miss Warburton, " having suffered so much for his sake,
and having, as she supposed, brought him home to
safety, and a life of future happiness, to have all this
cheering prospect dashed by his death was, one would
have thought, more than human nature could support
or sustain. But she had a mind superior to every trial,
and even this, her severest affliction, she bore up
under with resignation and fortitude. I saw her again
many years afterward, when her sorrows had been
somewhat tempered by time. She was still handsome,
but her bloom and vivacity were gone. I placed
myself where I could unobserved contemplate the
change she had undergone since I had first seen
her. Her countenance was mild and placid, but there
was a look of tender melancholy mingled with resig-
nation that made her the most interesting object I had
ever beheld."

The Burgoyne Ballads. 319

APPENDIX ¥1.

LAST DAYS OF JONES. THE LOVER OF
JANE McCREA.

A Scrap of Unwritten History.

[This story is told by Julia C. Smalley in the Catholic World lor December,

1882.]

In the course of an evening conversation with the
cheerful circle in which our easy-chair is permitted
for the present to fill the privileged place accorded
to its invalid occupant, we fell to relating incidents
connected with the early history of our republic.
An aged memb'ir of that circle sat diligently plying
her knitting needles, a silent listener to our chat,
instead of supplying the share which we knew full
well she could have drawn from her own knowledge
of many interesting events of that period, at the time
of their occurrence or soon after. She was, therefore,
very warmly urged by the younger part of the com-
pany to "tell us a story," even though it might prove,
as she hinted, but a " twice-told tale" to some of her
listeners.

It so happened that she had on that day taken up a
stray number of Lossing's " Pictorial Field-Book of the
Revolution," and while glancing drowsily over its pages
her eye was attracted by his account of the tragical
death of Jane McCrea, near Fort Edward, on the
Hudson River, in July, 1777.
former years visited an aged
Bennington, Vt., through the
tion, and who was well acquainted with the unfortu-
nate girl, and with the Mrs. McNeil whom Miss

Having frequently in
relative who lived in
of the Revolu-

war

)

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McCrea was visiting at the time of the sad event, she
had heard the painful story in all its mournful details
from the lips of that relative, with the shuddering hor-
ror and tearful sympathy which it would naturally
awaken in a sensitive young heart.

At the close of his narration Lossing remarks that
there were various accounts in the vicinity of Fort
Edward as to the subsequent fate of Lieutenant Jones
of the British army, to whom Jane McCrea was
engaged ; and that he heard, from a lady at Glens
Falls who was related to the Jones family, that he
lived with his friends in Canada many years after the
terrible event — a melancholy and lonely man.

It is curious to note how some such trivial cause a.-;
this renewal of her acquaintance with that sad story
will often impel an old person to rake up the dying
embers of the past and draw from them living sparks
which had long been smouldering beneath their dust.
It was thus with our serene old friend as she closed
the book that afterncon and settled back in her " old
arm-chair," musing upon the narrative and recalling
scenes of her early life which she had not thought
upon for years. Hence it followed, of course, when
our evening chat dipped into history, and she was
urged to bear her part in it, that she should recur
to the subject of her late reading and revery, and
to the fact that she knew more of the later life of
Lieutenant David Jones than was recorded by Los-
sing. " For," said she, " all the early years of my life,
with the exception of occasional visits to friends in
Vermont, were passed on the American shore of the
St. Lawrence. It was then a wilderness from Sack-
ett's Harbor to the ' Rapids,' only broken by the
little village of Ogdensburg, just starting into exist-
ence, and by small openings made here and there by

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321

such hardy pioneers as dared encroach within its for-
bidding boundaries.

" Schools there were none up or down the river
from Ogdensburg, and the children of the ' settlers'
had no means for instruction, unless taught at home
or sent across the river to attend schools already estab-
lished in the older settlements on the Canadian shore.

" No sooner had my father taken up a large tract of
land and planted our pleasant home in this wilderness
— indeed, before we had been there long enough
to get it reduced to a tolerable state of order we were
visited by the residents of that shore up and down the
river, and afterward formed many permanent friend-
ships with them, among the most highly valued of
which were members of the Jones family. So it
befel that when I was old enough to be sent away to
school I was admitted into one of those families
more as a household pet than a boarder, and was
cordially invited to range freely through the whole
circle. As every separate family was blessed with
daughters near my own age, I was decidedly ' in
clover' among them — clover the luxury of which for
me, who had no sister or young companions at home,
save the little squaws from a neighboring Indian
encampment, cannot possibly be conceived by any
small lassie who lives amid abounding youthful com-
panionship. I revelled in it. Such parties as were
given weekly at one and another house ! Such multi-
tudes of dolls as went with us in every variety of cos-
tume ; among which my own, large and small, figured,
copper-colored and in full Indian dress, with hair
banged according to the most approved aboriginal
style — which has been adopted by our modern fine
ladies — and was necessary to the completion of the
Indian toilet that I took pride in arranging for them

> I ■;

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!.' ' ■'

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1

in honor of my special \^cts, ihc /}a/>ooscs o( the \v\fr-
warns.

" AmonjLj the young girls of the Jones connection
was one to whom I was particularly attracted, as she
was to me, by the similarity of our positions. Her
father lived in a remote district, and iier home was
almost as isolated as my own, while she was with their
relatives for the same purj)ose as myself. At the close
of each term of our school she was, as well as myself,
carried home to pass the short interval between the
terms. On one of these occasions she was so urgent in
her entreaties that 1 might be permitted to go with
her for the vacation that my father consented, much to
my satisfaction, and we set forth in great glee. Our
journey was very delightful, through a wild and roman-
tic region, and 1 received a most cordial welcome from
her family at its close.

" The house was more elaborate in stvle and furni-
ture tlian our home so recently founded in the woods.
A poition of it was built by her grandfather many years
before, and extensive modern additions had been made
by her father. Her grandfather died the previous
year, and his brother, a very venerable old gentleman
with hair as white as snow, lived in the family. 1 was
deeply impressed by the countenance and manner of
this granduncle of my friend. ^\n expression of un-
utilerable sadness was stamj^ed upon his noble features,
and a gentle dignity — benign to the verge of pity —
marked his whole bearing, even to the softened tones
of his manly voice, especially when addressing the
voung in the few slowly uttered but impressive words
which he seldom exceeded when speaking to them.
He was very fond of his grandniece, and, silent and
reserved as he was with others, he never tired of listen-
ing to her sprightly prattle.

!. 1 «

Tim ISurtjoyn,- BuUiuIh. gjg

"As soon as I foun,l a pr<,|,cr occasion I plicl her
-.11 Muc-stions as to this in.ccslin.; „ia,ivc, u'hon Z~
had never „u-nt,o„cd vvhen lullinj; ,nc aln.u, ,cr la ni '
S .e sc nc.l shKhtly constrained when s|.eakh,ir„l h m
>ut ol.l me he was a l.achelor.and that he mc^ wi ,'

t^coveii w":;" 'i; 'r •'■"""'• "■■'" "'-■'' '- •' ■'■■

mT i ;..l, f","" ^■"^^■'•pHlinacily naltnal to

small da i,^hiers of l-,ve I drew from this reluct n,i
witness that h,.r smnulfaiher. Captain JonalhanNHRs
■;"'! tins K^-nileman, his l.rotlu'r -Lieuten n I -id
ones-were olllcers in liuroovne's arm^■ d , n ^ | I
hrst years ol the Revolution ; that the iieut.na m w
engaged to a heautiful young lady, whose hrolh v s
.stanch supporter of the American cause and opposed
to her union wMl, the Torv officer. an,l iha, s hL w^s
kdled and scalped liy the Indians while goin,. wiih a
fiiend and escort :o meet that office, iutlu. liVi si

mirgo, no. Ue was so crushed hy ih,. terrihie hlow

and chsgusted with the apathy of D^g.nne in ef hi'

o punish the nnscre. , who hrouglu her scalp to il e

amp as a trophv.clainnng the pountv ollered o such

other ';i'ed f"'"" ' V"-""'-^' "-' I- -kI hi
olhci asked lor a discharge and were refused, when

hey deserted-he having first rescued the preci us

h s' c' n,'r''''''"T'i' '""" "■'■ ^--^'.U'cs-and i,',i,e To
th,s Canadian wilderness, which he had never hecn

manyy.c^ls'S;.-"'^''"' ""°" ^^ '">-'"- ---"

nn^1-''-;.r'n ""^ ^^'""^v '^'^c name of the ladv so Ion-.

and fa.thfully n.ournr.i. but when I asked lier if t is
ia.gedy did nci occur near Fort Edu-ard. on th(> IIu
on she remembered to have heard that place n n-
lonel ,n connection with it. She said they were a 1

forbidden to speak in his presence of Ameri an lla

V:\

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'WM^

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II 1

or history, but she had once persuaded him to let her
see the mournful relic so precious to him. She
described the hair as the most beautiful she had ever
seen, light auburn in color, soft and glossy as silk, per-
fectly even, and a yard and a quarter in length.

" ' Well, my dear A ,' said I, ' it so happens that

I know more about this sad affair than even yourself,
who have always lived in the house with him. When
my father and mother used to visit his oldest sister in
Bennington, Vt, they took me with them at her
special request ; for, being the only daughter of her
favorite brother, she always treated me with more
tender atfection than she showed toward her other
nieces. Her house, which she had long known and
occupied, was one where the officers quartered at the
time of the battle of Bennington, and 1 remember the
speechless awe with which I was wont to con over and
spell out the names of those officers, recorded by them-
selves, on the eve of the battle, upon a pane of glass in
the window with the diamond in a ring belonging to
one of their number, who was killed in the conflict of
the next day.

" * My aunt's memory was a storehouse of tales of
those times, and I never tired of listening to them.
No sooner was one finished than I teased for another,
until I am sure the patience of the good dame must
have been sorely tried. She knew this young lady,
whose name was Jane McCrea, and also Mrs. McNeil,
the Tory friend whom Miss McCrea was visiting at the
time of their capture by the Indians. I little thought
when I cried over the doleful story that the lover was
still living, much less that I should ever see him !'

" A did not dare repeat to her venerable relative

what I had told her, but she ventured to beg that I
might be allowed to see the beautiful hair of his lost

•"t^

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The Burgoyne Ballads,

325

love. He was deaf to her entreaties, assuring her that
she was the only one who had or would see it while he
lived, and that he wished to have it buried with him
when he died.

" After our return to school I drew from her some
facts in relation to the mysterious journey she had men-
tioned his having once taken. ' I do not know much
about it,' she said. ' I heard it from an old servant-
woman of the family, who told me that many years
before I was born a stranger came there one evening,
who appeared to be a gentleman's valet. He brought
a fine-looking, intelligent young boy with him, and
inquired for my grandfather. Captain Jonathan Jones.'

" The substance of my friend's account was that,
after an interview of some length with her grandfather,
his brother, the lieutenant, was called in, and the three
were together in the library during most of the night,
discussing some very interesting matter connected with
the boy. The butler had been ordered to prepare re-
freshments in the dining-room, and Robert, one of the
waiter-boys — an urchin gifted with a larger amount of
mischief and curiosity than his small frame could pos-
sibly enclose, insomuch that they were continually over-
flowing, to the annoyance of the whole household — was
directed to remain within call to serve them when re-
quireid. It was not in the nature of this valet that he
should remain idle at his post during the long hours
of the night, and his faculties were too much on the
alert as to the subject engaging his superiors to yield
to drowsiness ; so, in perfect submission to his ruling
instincts, he plied the keyhole diligently for such infor-
mation as it might convey to his ear when the parties
became so excited as to raise their voices above the
low tone to which most of their conversation was con-
fined. He gathered from these snatches that Captain

y^:

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in )

I- '

4 1,

If
1 1

Jones was urgently entreated to perform some service
for the boy which he was reluctant to undertake. He
heard him exclaim vehemently : ' I will not be persuaded
to receive under my roof the son of that detestable
traitor, whose treason, although to an unrighteous
cause, caused my dearest friend, one of the bravest and
most noble officers in his Majesty's service, to be hung
like a dog by the vile rebels. I should be constantly
haunted with the thought that I was nurturing a viper
to sting me when occasion offered.' His brother
David said something in reply, of which Robert heard
only enough to infer that there was a retired officer of
the American army across the river who might be per-
suaded to do what was desired. ' Very well,' said the
captain ; ' you can undertake the task, if you see fit, but
I have no belief that you will gain the consent of one
who loathes the father so bitterly to take charge of the
son. Still, as he is a bachelor, he would escape the
risk of exposing a family to injurious consequences,
and as sufficient provision will be made for the support
and education of the boy, there will be no pecuniary
risk ; it will also, no doubt, be easier, as you say, to
keep the secret of his birth in the States than there in
the vicinity of his father's retreat. You may perhaps
succeed, and I wish no harm may come of it if you do.'

" Robert heard no more, and soon after these remarks
the confab broke up, and he was called to serve the
refreshments in the library.

*' The lieutenant departed with the boy and his at-
tendant the next day. He was absent some days, and
nothing further was known as to his journey, its object
and result, than was gathered from Robert's story,
which was soon circulated through the neighborhood.
It formed the basis of many conjectures and discus-
sions among the country people and servants. These

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The BurgoyA,e Ballads.

327

were renewed with increased excitement when, after
some months, it was discovered that a stone cottage in
the English style had been built in the midst of a
dense wilderness some miles back from a Canadian
village situated on the bank of the St. Lawrence, and
was occupied by an old man, whose sole attendant was
a servant, who visited that village occasionally for sup-
plies, but utterly refused to answer the questions of the
villagers or give any information as to his master's
name or history.

" I afterward learned from other sources the further
particulars that at the period to which this account of
my young friend referred a settlement was rapidly
forming on the American shore opposite to this Ca-
nadian village, and that the fact that a leading man in
the newly rising community, a bachelor and retired
officer of the American Revolution, had adopted a boy
whose origin was unknown, but who bore the name of
a traitor — most odious to all American people — who was
evidently not dependent upon his patron for anything
but care and direction, set rumor 'with its hundred
tongues' busy connecting the youth with the mysteri-
ous recluse of the * forest lodge' — as the place was
named by the country people — and set all eyes to
watching him and his movements for any circumstance
that might confirm these suspicions. Hence when it
became known that the boy sometimes crossed the river
and disappeared with an Indian hunter in the woods,
under pretence of hunting the game which abounded
there, remaining upon each occasion for some days, it
was taken as 'confirmation strong as Holy Writ' of the
prevailing conjectures, and he was generally regarded
with increased aversion. Despite these unfavorable
influences, however, he lived and flourished, became
an enterprising, respectable citizen, and a distinguished

1 1

828

The Burgoyne Ballads.

V I

officer in the volunteer service during the War of 1812,
his zeal and valor in the cause winning for him the
public respect and esteem so long unjustly withheld.
He married a niece of his benefactor, and they were
united in their devotion to the interests and comfort
of her uncle in his old age, inheriting a large portion
of his estate at his death.

" The mystery surrounding the recluse, the problem
of his suspected identity with the notorious American
traitor, and his possible relationship with the boy in
question were never solved.

" It continued for many years to be the subject of
evening gossip by rural firesides in that region, and
strange stories were told by Indian and white hunters
and trappers of the startling things they had seen and
heard in the vicinity of the lonely cottage — long since
fallen into decay — both during the occupancy of its
owner and after his disappearance. Whether he died
there, or left for some far-off country before his death,
was never known."

APPENDIX VII.

SKETCH OF GENERAL JOHN WATTS DE

PEYSTER.

General J. Watts de Peyster, the author of the
poems on Oriskany and Saratoga, was born at No. 3
Broadway, in the city of New York, March 9th, 1821.
He is the descendant, in direct line, in the seventh
generation, of de Peysters who resided in, and in the
sixth of those born in, the First Ward of that city ;
and through connections by blood and by marriage, his

The Burgoyne Ballads.

829

!' i

people filled the highest and most important offices
under the Dutch and English or British rule. His
mother's father, John Watts (2d), was the last Royal
Recorder of the City and the Founder and Endovver of
the Leake and Watts Orphan House, to whom the
general erected, in 1892, a bronze statue in Trinity
Churchyard, which has been pronounced one of the
finest in the country and was considered such an
admirable specimen of art, that a duplicate was selected
and sent to the Centennial Exposition at Chicago. His
father, Frederic de Peyster, stood in the highest rank
in literature, philanthropy, and usefulness in New York,
and it was said of him in published obituaries : " He
has probably been connected as an active officer with
more social, literary and benevolent societies than any
other New Yorker who ever lived." His historical
and biographical publications were numerous and
valuable, and to sum up, " to him might justly be ap-
plied the expressive lines of Tennyson as to what
constitutes a gentleman.

His son, the subject of this sketch, inherited the
literary tastes and industry of his family. He com-
menced to write for the public press at eleven, and
since that time he has continued to publish works in
every literary branch, year by year, ever since he came
of age.

To a very great extent a firm believer in absolute pre-
destination, he claims that, as St. Paul remarks, " what
hast thou that thou didst not receive," and as any talent
and the power of applying it came from God, from
Him came the reward in whatever form conferred.
Nevertheless, the general's labors have not been with-
out recognition.

Although only an officer of Militia, or, as they
were afterward styled, " Military Forces of the State

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of New York," now National Guard, his every pro-
motion was made especially for "meritorious conduct"
or " important services," and after the rebellion he was
brevetted Majcr-General State of New York for
" meritorious services" by " Special Act," or Concurrent
Resolution, New York State Legislature, April, 1866
[first and only general officer receiving such an honor
(the highest) from State of New York, and the only
officer thus brevetted (Major-General) in the United
States]. He represented the State as Military Agent
for observation abroad, endorsed in the highest terms
by the United States Executive, President Fillmore,
and Government Secretaries of State and of War. His
Reports on Tactics, Uniform, Organization, Arms,
and Armament — Arms and Ordnance — were acknowl-
edged to contain " most valuable suggestions" by
Jefferson Davis, then Secretary of War, and his collec-
tion of Foreign Arms was commended at Washing-
ton, whither they were sent, by request, for inspection.
His suggestion for the adoption of the twelve-pounder
Napoleon-gun several years before its approval by the
United States Army Board, his ideas of Uniform and
designation of rank were adopted or imitated by the
rebel military authorities, and he was one of the first
to promote the institution of the Municipal Police,
and the substitution for the then existing Volunteer
Fire Department of a Paid Organization, with steam fire
engines and a fire escape both economical and effec-
tive. In recognition of his services as Military Agent
of the State of New York in Europe he received an
elegant gold medal from Hon. Washington Hunt,
Governor of the State of New York, and, by a Special
Order, another gold medal was conferred under the
same Executive " for zeal, devotion, and meritorious
service," and his appointment as Brigadier-General

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TKe Burgoyne Ballads.

331

was the first made by any governor independently
and, as stated therein, "for important services."

His works on Military History and Criticism have
received the highest endorsement even to the extent
of the opinion that his judgment in Strategy and
Grand Tactics was almost infallible, and his views
or ideas on practical strategy elicited from General
Sir Edward Cust, B.A., author of " The Annals of the
Wars, 1700 to 1715," in eleven volumes, and "Lives
of the Warriors, XVHth Century," a "Letter Dedi-
catory," dated March, 1869, of 29 pages. He was also
the first to demonstrate to the American people the
vast influence, in a series of works, volumes, and articles,
upon human progress exercised by the Seven United
States of Holland, a subject which has latterly been
presented in a more popular and digested form by
the late Mr. Campbell in his book "The Puritan in
Holland, England, and America;" and in a series of
centennial articles in the New York Times, New
York Mail, and other prominent papers he presented
the operations of the Revolutionary War from a point
of view based on original authorities, seldom if
never consulted, demonstrating errors that should
never have occurred and which have become strength-
ened by repetition.

For a life of the Swedish Field Marshal Torstenson,
who may be justly claimed to have decided the result
of the Thirty Years' War, and was pronounced by
Gustavus Adolphus as his pupil fittest to command
his army, or any army, he received three beautiful
silver medals from Oscar I., King of Sweden, besides
being honored with other badges and insignia for sim-
ilar work subsequently done in military, historical, and
biographical essays.

Many years ago he was invested with the degree of

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The Biirgoyne Ballads.

LL.D., subsequently with that of Master of Arts, Co-
lumbia College, and recently with that of Litt.D.,
Doctor of Letters or Literature (the last a degree
conveying highest collegiate distinction, superior to
LL.D.), Franklin and Marshall College, corner-stone
laid by Benjamin Franklin, 1787; reorganized 1853),
Lancaster, Pa., 1892. He is also an honorary member
of historical societies too numerous to mention ; and,
indeed, since this sketch is in type he has received no-
tice of his having been elected Honorary Fellow of the
Society of Science, Letters, and Art, of London.

Invidious remarks having been made in regard to
General De Peyster not going into the field in 1861-
65, the all-sufficient answer is that a soldier to be of
any value in active service requires sound health and
certainly strong digestion. The famous General Wolfe
wrote that he chiefly valued his promotion as general
because that rank enabled him to command comforts
without which it was impossible in his state of health
to perform his duties efficiently. This remark was
made at a time when even field officers enjoyed advan-
tages now beyond the conceded rights in the field of
any but the highest in command.

Doctors of the highest abilitv advised him that if he
did take the field there was only one chance out of ten
of his being able to remain there or of surviving the
necessary acclimatization to perform any effectual ser-
vice. Nevertheless, he did offer to go more than once,
and to furnish admirable troops, or serve in any capacity
in which his health would justify the appointment " due
to acknowledged ability." He was at one time consid-
ered for chief of the personal staff which President
Lincoln talked of organizing, until persuaded not to
do so for reasons best known to those who combated
the idea.

The Burgoyne JBcUlada.

833

At the age of eighteen he was seized suddenly with
such a peculiar and severe affection of the heart that it
was deemed worthy of record in permanent medical
reports. The effects of this continued for years. When
it ceased to trouble him persistently it was followed
by hemorrhages, which drained his life. At one period
this continued for six years continuously, and returned
from time to time without notice. It did not preclude
at times extraordinary temporary activity, if rest, relief,
and remedies were possible upon the first symptoms
of exhaustion or of the return of heart trouble. It is
said that "whoever excuses himself accuses himself,"
but that man is the worst of fools who is aware of any
insuperable obstacle and then undertakes to act against
knowledge, when failure will be attributed by mean-
ness or injustice to the worst motives or to any but
the true cause.

His works on military subjects — on the Militia and
on the Fire Departments of Europe — are masses of
information, whose only fault is concentration. They
would make a dozen books, and for this reason have
perhaps been more profitable to the fame of those who
have subsequently turned them over than to that of
the original compiler and author, who, at much per-
sonal expense of time and money, collected them
during a visit to Europe. They still offer abundant
resources for the improvement of our institutions.

Nor, have General de Peyster's writings been con-
fined solely to works of a military character. Besides
biographies of our leading generals, representatives
abroad, and other celebrities, he has written and pub-
lished a number of others of a high literary character,
which have met the approbation of the severest critics
and the praise of one of the best judges, the lamented
Bryant ; likewise an historical drama, " Bothwell," the

i 1

334

The Burgoyne Ballads.

successful lover and third husband of Mary Queen of
Scots, partly in blank verse and partly in prose, which
received the following stamp of excellence from Lc
Ltvre, the highest literary tribunal : " Magnificent to
read although impossible to act" — impossible to act
because, as remarked by an experienced stage manager,
it required too many first-class actors to fill the lead-
ing roles and too expensive or perhaps too difficult
scenery to produce and manage. In fact, the list of
the general's publications, books, pamphlets, and con-
tributions to periodicals fill eleven pages of one vol-
ume of the "Bibliography of the American Historical
Association" besides a supplementary list in the suc-
ceeding volume, and the enumeration is by no means
complete.

It only remains, in order to fill out and complete
this picture, to speak of its subject as a man. In
person, General de Peyster is erect in carriage, and
bears so much the stamp of a military personage, that
a stranger, observing him, would put him down at
once as belonging to that profession. In character,
notwithstanding his ill-health and his being almost
continuously racked with pain, he is eminently genial
and possessed of so much bofihoviniic as to make him a
most charming companion, and the writer recalls
many delightful hours spent with him at his classic
country-seat at Tivoli, N. Y.. which overlooks,
so to speak, the scene of Sir Henry Clinton's
expedition against yEsopus during the Revolution.
He possesses, moreover, most endearing and affec-
tionate traits, and no one is more charitable to the
faults of others than himself. Nor are these charac-
teristics confined solely to the human family. His
considerate treatment of all dumb animals is remark-
able, and a tombstone in his grounds, which com-

The Bunjoyne Ballach.

335
P'omptcd it's erection » '"'""'' ""^ ^"'^'^ "''i'-'l'

"-ce'^a;°t!;'i!i;s,^^:e;::!'"'^"-'''^'-'--'''

••Jli^i;e.-rit»,seelens,|uepL,rus

"" '-■get .nauvis jaculis, necjue arcu."

APPENDIX yill.

-i^M^-Jr h:,il;,';;:r;,;eV'':f '-■'•■"■!- -^'.n.. the

graduated from fVarvL O, t' ■''""^' '""'■ '"4,5. and
amons the first cla A| ,H r""' "!■ V"'^-' '"'"« '■">I<''1
thus occur to thrreade r f:,"^ '','.' ''""^^' " "iH
called in tradit on i 1 a i'cl, ''^ '''""'."■" '''^ '>« '^
keepin,, with his reii "^^.-aC '"R'ir'h.Vn ''"?">' ''I
thcolorry under Rev -Mr ri„.i ,;.'''" '^'"''"''i

and was ordained Apri IStl -r ■ "' *^°"'>an>l>lon,
ter of Pittsfield lied ' , n r ' t' "L'''"' '"^' "'""«-
named i„ honoro V| ,„ P^/"-"',"^^^-"'"'^'' "'as
a frontier town, in w d , ' " »l"ch was then
luring the Frenc VVar Th, I' n 'l "" ''"' ''=^" '^'-'1«
to-c._At_,,KMin^e^;^^^

I'as placed a marl, le ' lal, ov'"'',?'"'''''' '""^'^ '"-■ "'»■
which durin<' lif '^c J, r •' ""^ '"'="'■•''"» of a don-

of his .so.cail?d' friend "°'''' '^^""""' "^ '''"' "■^'" """?

rn: '

!i»

il.

330

2/ie Barijoync JialUuh.

field contained hut six lionscs not built of lofjs. He
lived to see it a wealthy and heautilul town, with six
thousand inhahilanls.

In the Revolutionary struirj^le he was an ardent sup-
porter of the colcjnies, and twice went out as a volini-
teer chaj)lain. Imcjui October 2>^\ until January 2vl,
1776, he was with the army at White Plains, and in
June and July, i 'j'j'j, at 'J1condero<ia. Alter the retreat
of the army from that post he returm-d home. Upon
the aj)proach of the British, under CJolonel Haum, to
the vicinity of IJenninujton he marched with the Pitts-
field volunteers to rci)el the invasion. Prior to the
assault of the intrenchments occupied hy the refugees,
he advanced, and in a voice which they distinctly heard
called uj)on them to surrender, promising!: ^ood treat-
ment ; hut beinir fired upon, he rejoined the militia,
and Vv'as among the foremost of those who entered the
breastworks ; and there is no(iuestion but that his ex-
ertions and exam|)le contributed materially to the
triumph of August 16th, which so greatly checked
Burgoyne's progress and led to the capture ot that
general. Undoubtedly, also, his ex[)CM"iences in the
service before this, at the battle of \Vhite Plains, etc.,
gave him valuable exj)erience as a soldier of the church
Diilitant, and thus aided him in liis directions to the
raw levies in the battle. .After the action he secured
the horse of a Brunswick surgeon, which carried a pair
of j)anniers lillec with bottles of wine. The wine he
administereil to the woimded and weary; but two
large, square, glass-case bottles he carried home as
trophies of his campaign of four days. Of his after
life there are many valuable accounts, as it was filled
with stirring adventures, especially one, when he crossed
the sea to London to bring home to his family an
fant child of his daughter, who died in that city

The nurijnyuc JiulliKh.

1799. \yiiilc' in L(.n,|(.nhr saw the kintr.ns lu> passed
^omSL James to the Parliament Ilcn.:;;^.!,, a an c

Irau'n by six cream-eclored horses, an.l on th s
recorded the follouiM,^r n-llections : "This is he W
desolated mv cof.my. who rava^red ,|., \„ e,

coasts, aun.hnated .un- trade jHnn;;i c.ur ,nv,C
dcred our c.ties. sent forth his Indian alhes o' Ic ,
our w.ves and children, starved our vnu.h in
'■son-ships, and caused the expenchuue of a hun<he

m.ll.onsc.l nioneyancl a hundrecl thousand o( preeiu
ves Instead o( heing the lather ,.f his peopK^K Iks
been thcMr destroyer. May God forgive' him so ^re
RU It. And yet he ,s the idol of the people, who t7,ink
they cannot hve without him/' 1^.;'. Mr. Allen die.

scY'i tj, vear of „s ministry. ( See Allen's " l'.ioo,a„h.
cal Dictionan -from which this sketch has^h^
taken— for a fuller account.)

APPENDIX IX.

THE CATAMOUNT TA\'ERX.^<-

Bv CiiAki.Ks M. Hliss.

The "Green Mf)untain Tavern," the resort of

(jteen Mountain lioys," is here referred to

what IS now the villaue of Bcnnint^.ton Center-thi

Bennmo-ton of Revolutionary fame---it had stood until

March 30th 1S71, for more than one hundred vears

a most noted relic of Revolutionary and even of'ante-

Revolutionary days. In fact, events which occurred

before the Revolution ^ ^yc it its name and its chief

'^' See Fronti;s])iece.

4 '

338

The Burgoyne Ballads.

'•^I'

title to fame. The land controversy between the set-
tlers on the New Hampshire Grants and the provincial
government, but not the people, of New York— a con-
troversy but for which Vermont would not have
been, first brought " Landlord Fay's" tavern into
prominence. Stephen Fay, its proprietor, was himself
one of the prominent actors in this controversy, as he
also was in the preparations for the battle of Benning-
ton. He had five sons in the battle, one of whom
was killed. It was during the long and bitter land
controversy that the settlers placed a large stuffed
catamount, y^Z/j- concolor, over the swinging sign of the
inn, with its face set toward New York, in token of their
defiance of New York authority. Hence the name
" Catamount Tavern."

The early settlers of Vermont held title to their
lands by virtue of graiUs from New Hampshire, and
the territory so held was called the New Hampshire
Grants. By a right perhaps equally good New York
granted the same lands to others. The crown decided
in favor of the New Hampshire title, but the contro-
versy did not stop. The owners of the New York
grants, having paid for them, demanded of the settlers
under the New Hampshire grants departure or repay-
ment. The settlers refused both. They were not
averse to the jurisdiction of New York ; they were to
the demands of the New York claimants. The New
York courts sustained the New York claimants, and
attempted to eject the settlers from their lands by legal
process. This was successfully resisted by force. After
many ineffectual efforts of the court of Albany County
to enforce its decrees a determined attempt was
made, July 19th, 1771, to secure the farm of
James Breakenridge in the town of Bennington, and
this also failed. The sheriff of the county and the

The Burgoyne Ballads.

339

• i

mayor of Albany, with an armed posse of over three
hundred men, were the aggressive party, but the oppos-
ing force, with headquarters at the Catamount Tavern,
and under the lead of Ethan Allen, was too strong for
them. No shots were fired, however, and in the
bloodless victory on this farm, to use the words of the
late Governor Hiland Hall, in his " Early History of
Vermont," "was born the future State of Vermont."

The same year James Duane, of New York City, a
land speculator, and John Kempe, the Attorney-Gen-
eral of the province, made themselves very obnoxious
to the settlers. Their agents were roughly handled by
Robert Cochran, the real owner of some of these lands,
assisted by Ethan Allen, Remember Baker and a few
others. Governor Tryon, considering this a serious
outrage, offered a reward of twenty pounds each for the
arrest of these men. Allen and Baker and Cochran
at once issued a counter proclamation, promising a
reward of fifteen and ten pounds for the arrest of "those
common disturbers," Duane and Kempe respectively,
and their delivery " at Landlord Fay's."

Immediately after the Breakenridge affair, inhabitants
of the towns west of the Green Mountains organized a
military body called the "Green Mountain Boys."
Ethan Allen was their colonel and Seth Warner a
captain. They were "Minute Men," ready and willing
to serve literally at a moment's notice in defence of
their rights. New Hampshire was too far away to aid
them ; on themselves they must depend. They did
little actual fighting, however. They had other methods
of defence. In various ways they harassed the New
York officials, and also the New York sympathizers
among the settlers, whom they stigmatized as " York-
ers." These Green Mountain Boys were always on
the watch for them, and they were sure to make

i' '

i' »

340

The Burgoyne Ballads.

vt.

m <

examples of the officers if they caught them. They
" chastised them with the twigs of the wilderness," sent
them beyond their borders, and commanded them
never to return. One contumacious person, a " York-
er," they brought to the Catamount Tavern and swung
up in an arm-chair under Landlord Fay's sign, where
they kept him for two hours, an object of derision
to the crowd gathered to see the sport.

These were the men, an organized body, who cap-
tured Ticonderoga, May loth, 1775. It was in the
Catamount Tavern that their leader, Ethan Allen, on
May 3d, arranged with the Connecticut and Massachu-
setts men for its capture, the former having brought
the funds to pay the expenses of the expedition and
the latter a small force to join it. From here went
out orders to summon every man to muster for the cap-
ture. One of the messengers sent from Castleton
travelled sixty miles on foot in one day through the
wilderness, from clearing to clearing, on this duty.

The Catamount Tavern was the headquaiters of
General Stark at the time of the battle of Bennington,
and the captured British officers were kept here after
the battle as prisoners of war. Contrary to the popu
lar belief of to-day and to the general record of his-
tory. Stark was on the march from Manchester vm
Bennington to join General Schuyler on the Hudson,
in obedience to the latter's orders. He finally disobey-
ed those orders, not because of the slight put upon
him by Congress, but on the representation of the
Vermont Council of Safety, in session in the Council
Room at Landlord Fay's.

This Council of twelve members, one of whom, and
its secretary, was a son of Landlord Fay, was the pro-
visional but legitimate government of the new State
of Vermont, just sprung into being and not yet a

jSJaSi9i6SSi«J»'>aok'Jr-;-

The Burgoyne Ballads.

341

twelvemonth old. This civil authority, composed of
Vermont men on the ground, was better informed of
the plans and movements of Burgoyne than the New
Hampshire general just arrived. To them he wisely
listened. His own words, written to the Courant at
Hartford, Conn., two days after the battle, and printed
therein October 7th, 1777, make this point clear. He
says : " After my arrival at that place [Manchester,
Vt.], I received orders from Major-General Lincoln,
pursuant to orders from General Schuyler, to march
my whole brigade to Stillwater and join the main army
under his command. ... In obedience thereto, I
marched with my brigade to Bennington, on my way
to join him, leaving that part of the country almost
wholly naked to the ravage of the enemy. The Hon-
orable the Council then sitting at Bennington were
much against my marching with my brigade, as it
was raised on their request, they apprehending great
danger of the enemy's approaching to that place, which
afterward we found truly to be the case."

To the failure of Burgoyne to cut oflf New England,
then one third of the country, from the rest of the Colo-
nies, is ascribed the willingness of France to aid the
American cause openly, and thus to secure the inde-
pendence of the United States. In achieving this in-
dependence, the aid of France is now freely acknowl-
edged throughout our country. That of the State of
Vermont is also entitled to mention in history ; and
in the making of the nation, the work of the patriots
of the Catamount Tavern, founders of a State, coming
up, as it does, to the measure of Lafayette's love of
liberty, ranks higher in the moral scale than that of
the enemies of England at Versailles.

Ethan Allen lived at Landlord Fay's upon occa-
sion, and his name appears in one of Captain Fay's

I I

!«

342

The Burgoyne Ballads.

account books, still extant in Bennington. The first
legislature of Vermont sat here. Here, in 1778, David
Redding was tried as a traitor " for enemical conduct"
and was hanged. A peculiarity of the trial was that
only six jurors sat. The Governor and Council there-
upon ordered a new trial, and thus disapn«^!ntcd the
excited patriots who had assembled to witness the
execution. Whereupon Ethan Alien assured them
that the proceeding was strictly lav/ful, and that after
the new trial if Redding were not hung he would " be
hung himself."

To designate the spot wheje the famous tavern
stood, the pedestal of a monument has been placed in
position, to be surmounted by a bronze catamount,
though with his wrinkled visage smoothed, for after
more than a century the war between the Green
Mountain Boys and the Yorkers is over. Vermont
is a result of that war ; the combatants com.promised
their differences ; the fourteen-year-old State was ad-
mitted to the Union ; the Catamount Tavern, for over
twenty years a "lively" inn, subsided to the humdrum
occupation of furnishing entertainment for man and
beast, coming in large numbers from the less favored
parts of New England to this no longer turbulent
land of promise ; peace reigned, and as of old out of
the strong came forth sweetness.

APPENDIX X.

THE CORRECT SPELLING OF BEMUS.

Probably no question in onnection with Bur-
goyne's campaign has given rise .3 so much discussion
as that concerning the spelling of the name of that old

The Burgoyne Ballads.

843

settler who kept a tavern on the river-road from
Schuylerville to Albany, and from whom the Heights
near him took their name. By Burgoyne's chief
engineer, in his maps of the two actions (September
19th and October 7th, 1777), and by different histo-
rians the name has been spelled in as many ways
as there have been writers on our Revolutionary
history — Bemis, Bremis, Braemus, Behmus, Behmis,
Bemcse and Beemis being the most common.

By a letter, however, which I received some years
since from that distinguished antiquarian and local
historian, Mr. B. B. Burt, of Oswego, N. Y., I am
finally enabled to settle this much-mooted point.

Mr. Burt's Letter.

"Oswego, April 22, 188 T.

" Mr. W. L. Stone.

"Dear Sir: Rev. Samuel H.Adams, a gentleman
and a scholar, spent a few days with me the last week,
and I learned from him that he was a descendant of
the Bemus from whom the Heights of Revolutionary
fame were named ; and inasmuch as I knew that the
name had been used and spelled in different ways, I
asked him to note what he knew about it on the next
page. I send you his statement. Truly yours,

" B. B. Burt."

Rev. Samuel H. Adams's Statement.

" My grandmother and her brothers, who were the
children of the Mr. Bemus from whom the Heights
were named, always spelled their name Bemus, and she
was quite disturbed that the error of Bemis should so
commonly appear.

" She married Daniel Crawford, Saratoga Springs,

, I
I

■A

:■■ ^

fiy

The Burgoyne Ballads.

and was for many years the oldest person in Saratoga
County. [Was this Crawford the one mentioned in
Mr Huling's 'Reminiscences of Saratoga Fifty
Years Ago ? ' — W .L. S.] Her brother moved to Chau-
tauqua County, and Bemus Point, on Chautauqua
Lake, was named from him.

" All his descendants in that county spell the name
Bemus, and will on no account spell it otherwise.
Another, Matthew Pendergrass ^^w«j, was a member
of the New York Assembly from 1868 to 1872 inclu-
sive. Samuel H. Adams.

'April 18, 1881."

To give, however, all the data on this much-mooted
point, the Saratoga Sentiiiel, in reply to the foregoing,
printed the following :

" In our investigations we have found that Mr.
Adam Snyder, of this village, now over seventy years
old, lived with John Bemis, who died in this town in
1829. Mr. Snyder spells the name just as we have
given it, and says that is the proper way. He does
not know the exact relationship of John Bemis of this
town to the Stillwater family, but says that he thinks
he was a nephew of the owner of the famous Heights.
He knows he was a brother of Mrs. Daniel Crawford,
whose name is mentioned above, and tells us that he
remembers distinctly that Mr. Bemis purchased fifty
acres of land on the south bounds of the village (being
the Crawford Tavern, alluded to by Mr. Stone), about
the year 1826, paying $1000 therefor. Mr. Crawford
had become somewhat embarrassed by reason of giving
surety for a man, and his brother-in-law, John Bemis,
bought the place for him on that account. John
Bemis died childless in 1829, as above noted. The
different branches of the same family vary in spelling

The Bxirgoyne Ballads.

345

their name sometimes, and it may be the parties
referred to by Messrs. Burt and Hall have done so,
and now claim it to be the original.

" Since writing the foregoing we have conversed with
C. E. Durkee, Esq., on the subject. Mr. Durkee has
a taste for genealogical studies and has many books on
the subject, among them a history of Watertown,
Mass., wherein it is stated that the Bemis who settled
in this county emigrated from Watertown, and while
the members of the family are said to have spelled
their name variously, Bemis is given as the prevailing
and most usually adopted way."

In answer to this last, from the Saratoga Sentinel,
I append the following, which, I think, conclusively
settles the question. However, I give all the data on
this much-vexed question, and our readers must judge
for themselves :

Some More Light on the Old .Settler Bemus.
To the Editor of the " Saratogian"

Sir : Since sending you the communication in re-
gard to the spelling of the name of Bemus, Rev. Mr.
Adams — the grandson of Bemus — has written the
following note to Mr. B. B. Burt, of Oswego, called
forth by the publication of his letter to Mr. Burt, in
the Saratogian of the 5th inst. I give herewith his
letter. W. L. Stone.

Jersey City Heights, May 12.

Clifton Si'RINgs, N. Y., May 9.

B. B. Burt, Oswego, N. V.

Dear Friend : . . . I regret that so little infor-
mation of the old settler, Jotham Bemus, is in my
possession. Beyond the facts that he was born about

346

The Burgoyne JBallada.

'^%

V,:

It 1'

r.*

1738, married Tryphena Moore, was a fanner occu-
pying the Heights (called after him), and kept for
many years a tavern (the most popular for many years
between Fort Edward and Albany) near the Heights ;
that he was in easy financial circumstances and was
engaged extensively in buying cattle ; that he was
stoutly built and energetic in all he did ; that he died
in 1786, leaving four children, viz.: William, Jotham,
John and Sally ; aside from this outline I know but
little.

I may be able to gather something more from my
aunt, Mrs. Martha B. Hall, whose husband (formerly
of Saratoga Springs), Ezra Hall, is the proprietor of
Bemus Hotel, Evansville, Ind. Mr. Crawford was
fifty years ago owner and proprietor of what was then
known as " Highland Hall," which was a little out
from Saratoga village, on the Dunning Street road
south.

William, the oldest son of this old settler, Jotham
Bemus, was born at Bemus Heights in 1 762 ; married
Mary Pendergast, 1782; settled in Pittston, Rensse-
laer County, and removed thence in 1802.

My grandmother, Sally Bemus Crawford, was born
at Bemus Heights in May, 1768, and removed from
Saratoga Springs with Mr. and Mrs. Hall to Indiana
in 1864. She has spent hours telling me of " Burgine"
and his army, which she saw ; of the burning of her
father's house by the British, and of the sufferings of
the family for a time while they were wintering in a
barn — Burgoyne having destroyed all their buildings
and crops. Sincerely yours,

S. H. Adams.*

* In this letter of Mr. S. H. Adams he is hardly
correct in one statement — at least, such is the infer-

j.m^.r'S^-r^i^-

Jk^^agBsajSMM^S

The £urg,jyne Ballads. 34-

The Correct Orthography of the Great Battlf

Ground.

In addition to the letters in fhp l^cf n

whose name it received UsTocal deta^^o'n "W.T^

to this place several y4rs s^ce ■• "/rh '' iT M?''
Democrat. Friday, May ,3, iSsT) ^ '"°"

Bemus or Bemis.
settled at what is .\. knoTn'I; Bemus P^t" "°''

/ ,

348

The Burgoyne Ballads.

methods of spelling the name of the man from whom
one of the great revolutionary battlelicMs took its
principal name, and gave evidence why we considered
Bonis the more authentic orthography than Bcvius.
Our authorities then were verbal. Now we have the
following extract from an obituary notice published in
the Saratoga Sentinel of September i5lh, 1829, as
evidence to the contrary spelling :

" Died, in this towii, on the eighth instant, Mr. John
Bemus, in the sixty-sixth year of his age. Mr. 13. was
born on the farm comprising the celebrated Bemus'
Heights, which was owned by his father, and from
whose name it received its local designation. Thcnigh
young, he was in the American service at the capture
of Burgoyne, as a teamster, and continued to reside
on the consecrated soil of his father until his removal
to this j)lace several years since."

Thi" would seem to be a settler against any bare
recollection, such as we gave last week, but we have
still further evidence on the same side. In the surro-
gate's office we find the record of the will of this John
Bemus, drawn probably by Judiah Ellsworth, who,
together with Samuel Chapman and John II. Steel (all
of them leading citizens of this town), sign the same
as witnesses, and the name is spelled Bcinus in the
body of the will and also in what purports to be the
signature. But to show how officials vary, we will say
that we found the name spelled Bcniis in the index of
the will, apjiarently made a few years since.

Our conclusion is then that Jicnins was the orthog-
raphy preferred by those of the name who resided here-
abouts, and we shall use it hereafter, while we have no
doubt that the spelling preferred by the old settlers of
Watertown, Mass., from whence the family emigrated,

Vi I,

•rsz — . .

-'-•v.^V. *-

The nurgot/ne Jiullufh.

34(*

was /I

cmis, as ^riven in the hist

referred to last weel

ory u{ Watertowi

^ niay add that from the will <,f John Hcnus 1

would ;,i.])ear to have been ([uite a well-i,,-d
lie ^rave one half his property to I
Crawlord, (lividin,<r the balanee I
with, Nabhy Clements, and

o eiti/en.

"S sister, Sallv
K'tween Xanev Meek-

Lucratia Wil

min Crawford. Peter Fort, and Joshua 1

eox

IJ(

nja-

exeeutors of the \vi

"inch were the

^inee the 1

study

<)re,<,roin<r was in tv

pc we have h

li\

in- tlie almanaes. We lind l,v the All
'cmn^i^r Journal Almanac that i^ohniKMi K

^illany .Irons Almanac says that Sol

een
)any

'Ihe

is th
be

omon \\

liem

!cn

Almanac

e representative of that eountv, also that he 1
postmaster of the town of Fiieher. 'Ihe 7>//;

gives the name as Solomon K. 1

las

'>!nii

red book, giving the list of

>em/j

name IJemw.,

as d

Tl
postmasters, sj.ells tlu

"hcial ijostal guide spells it 13

oes the Argus Almanac, and tl

iem/,^

spice of life, certainly Solomon ~K B
gives us j.lenty in the si)elling of 1

variety is the

*^n\!s-ns-K^s-is
lis name. ('Ihe

Saratoga Sentinel, Thursday, May ,9th. ,881!)

APPENDIX XI.

AUSTIN W. IIOLDEX, M.\),

Bv James H. IIoldkx.

Austin Wells FIoldex, A.M., M.D., historian na
triot and litterateur, was born in the town ohvhite Creel
Washni^ton County, N. V., May r6th, i.Stc, H^
eaily education was acquired at the St. Lawrence

■1

350

77ic liH/yoi/nr Jidlhidti.

! '

111

Academy, Potsdam. X. \. In iS3^ his fat her icmovcd
to (/lens |"all, N. \ ., where the suhjt'cl of this sketch
heijan the ^tudv 'if law with the I lonorahle WiUiam
I lav, a noted lawver .md writer of that ^\.\\. Ohlitred,
lor |)ecimiai\' reasons, to rehnt/uisli this j)rofession, he
entered his lather's cahinel-shop. where he remained
until his iwentN'-second vear. Durintji^ this linie he
studied diliijfcntly the works of ancient and modern
writers, and ahonl iS.|i hei^ran the- ^tudv ol niediciiu'.
A little later he enleii'd the Alhanv Medical Collene,
from which he <j;rai-luated with distinction in 1S48, and
opened his oniee at Warienshuru". the central town
o! Warren (Joimt\-, \. \. In 1S51, hewasiiiairicd
to l".li/;d)eth IWuil, of Glens I'^alls, daunhter of the
llonorahle I loralio lUiell, at (Jiie time juduc of
W'arren County; sister of the late James Huell, Presi-
dent of the I mpoiters and Tradeis liank ofXewVoik
Cit\', and niece of the hitc Sarah Iose|)ha (Buell)
IlaK', for many \-ears editor of 6\?</n''.<" Juidys Jhwk.
Three children resulted from this union, only one of
whom. Janus A. Ilolden.of (ileus I'alls, now sur-
vives, tn 1852 Dr. Ilolden removed with his family
to Glens I'alls, where he located in practice, hive
years later, after thorough investigation, he adopted
the I lomoL'opathic svstemof medicine, and hecame one
of the most noted and successful piactitioners of that
school in Northern Xew X'crrk. In 1S61, on the
fall of Port .Sumter, Dr. Holden was the liist to oiler
his services to the State, and raised the lirst company of
men in Warren County. This comi)anv, with liim as
its ca])tain, was attached to the famous Twenty-second
Regiment, part of the noted " li'on Brij^ade." After
servinii; as an officer a short time, Dr. Ilolden, at the
recjuest of officers and men, was transferred, as first
assistant surgeon, to the medical stall of the ret>iment,

J ..»

Til, Jlitrfjnijnc ll(tf!.i,I.<i,

851

(lilt M I y/^ , I . . ■'^Hii lie \\ as niuslc'icd

•^'t m S(,,, he returned as an aelinu a^MManl surLu-,,

i-Dr SStir— ;,:r;;;';;;-;E

suv.u he >ecc.ved a commission as hrrvcl maj„r

trom (luvcnior Fentnn Rr\
111

uinniM liomc. he resumed

■-;.( .lH-.Sl.,lcll,.,n..„|,;,c|,ic .M„,i,'.al,S, . . , ;
•■'■A 'l.",„u ,1,, ,„u,sc .,f his mr,nl,.,.|,lp iiK- , 1 ■;,. " f

■ens,., v„v-|„c.si,len,. prcsidnu : ,'..., ,:r

1^,9 111- u-.is rrainimriulcl i;„- and r,-ciiv,.,l ti, i,

;":i;;''n';;^"'' '!■''■'■'•'•'''- '^'--'' '^^

\ V V, ^^^".''-^ ''^1^""! "->>"■. opalliic I l„s|,l,,,l at

jx-ilec
an
C.
\\

. "mi K, rcsio-n. He was a lilc-lonn- i k,,„.^,,,,
•;>'! -n is;4 was elected to the As.cml.lv In, n ■ 1'
C-untv. which is ^ strongly Repnl.licanln'^ml::':,;^

•\"<^'<1 lor (heir liheralitv and I

-1 ..:.o,s i„ ,,,e ,,,,;;:;■ 1';:;^:-;^-;;;-

■fui in ascu,,,,. fro,,, „|,|ivi„„ „„„, ,,,,,,;;, ';'

352

The Burgoyne Ballads.

I ■

would have been irremediably lost. His chief and
lasting monument, which will bear his name down to
posterity, is a work entitled " A History of Queens-
bury, N. Y.," which covers an important era and sec-
tion of country in relation to American history. In
recognition of his literary abilities, he received, in
addition to the honorary degree of Master of Arts
already mentioned, appointments as corresponding
member of the Oneida County, the New York, Wis-
consin and Rhode Island Historical societies, and the
New York and New England Genealogical and
Biographical societies. His most iccent historical
work was the " History of Jane McCr a," which ap-
peared in the local press, and which he '/as getting in
readiness to publish in book-form. He left a valuable
collection of mss. and historical miscellany, which
will prove treasure-trove to some future historian. In
January, 1891, Dr. Holden's wife died suddenly. For
some months the doctor had been in feeble health.
He sank under the additional blow, till death relieved
him of the cares and troubles of this life. He fell
asleep on July 19th, 1891, and his funeral was largely
attended by the various societies to which he belonged,
the services being under Masonic auspices. A local
paper writes his epitaph as follows: " A patriot and
philanthropist was laid at rest yesterday, when the
remains of Dr. A. W. H olden were consigned to
mother earth. He was an extensive writer and the
author of valuable local histories. He was a kind-
hearted, genial gentleman and a practical Christian
always. Peace to his ashes."

•m^SE"

tXit:

^•.,i.;*«>« vj--.-t'::mTKmr.~

BURGOYNE INDEX.

Acland, Lady Harriet,

150, 186, 271, 303.
Adams, John, 89.
Alexander, James, 9.
Allen, Ethan, 220.
Allen, Parson Thomas,

225, 227.
Allen, Joseph, 238.
Allen's History, quoted,

256.
Anthony, Walter, 42,
Arnold, Gen., 57, 83, 88,

132.
Au ringer. Rev. O. C,

Sketch of, 134.
Ayers, Robert, 190.

Ballads and Poems :

Burgoyne's Proclamation,

7-
The Progress of Sir Jack

Brag, 27.
Burgoyne's Defeat. 29.
The Fate of John Bur-

goyne, 32.
The Capture at Saratoga,

36.

I Burgoyne's Advance and
Fall, ^S.
St. Clair's Retreat and
Burgoyne's Defeat, 41.

The Fall of Burgoyne, 48.

An Answer for the Mes-
sengers of the Nation,
49.

The First Chapter of the
Lamentations of Gen
eral Burgoyne, 52.

A Dialogue between Col.
Paine and Miss Clo-
rinda Fairchild, 60.

A Short Review of Bur-
goyne's Expedition, 62.

Four Burgoyne Epigrams,
66.

The Halcyon Days of
Old England, 69.

Two Burgoyne Letters,
71.

An Old Verse, j^.

Epitaph, 74.

Merz Kater, y^.

To the Relics of my Brit-
ish Grenad'er, 75.

l.,.-"'J.JUl»CT

^nvBK^mmmmsa

■HP

354

Burgoyne In'hx.

It IK

I,' I

fl' I'

I
(,

Burgoyne's Defeat, An
Ancient Ditty, 80.

The North Campaign,
86.

The Carpet Knight, 93.

The Church and King
Club, 97.

Satirical Verses in Honor
of Sir John Burgoyne,
99.

Song of a Wagoner in
Gates's Arrrjy, 105.

The Restored Captain,
106.

The Burial of Gen. Fraser,
114.

The Burial of Gen. Fra-
ser, No. 2, 118.

The Burial of Gen. Fra-

ser, No. 3, 119.

Fra-

Jane

The Burial of Gen.

ser, No. 4, 124.
The Episode of

McCrea, 134.
Jane McCrea, 176.
Jane McCrea, 186.
KcHections at the Grave

of Jane McCrea, 194.
Jane McCrea, 195.
The Tragical Death of

Miss Jane McCrea, 201.
Jane McCrea, 203.
Lines on Jane McCrea,

205.
Oriskany, 208.

Die Schlacht von Oris-
kany, 210.

Paean to Oriskany, 2 1 2.

Ode on the Battle of
Bennington, 215.

The Battle of Bennington,
218.

The Battle of Benning-
ton, 219.

Ode on the Veterans of
the Battle of Benning-
ton, 224.

Parson Allen's Ride, 225.

Hymn on the Battle of
Bennington, 228.

The Battle of Benning-
ton, 229.

Song about Bennington,

233-
A Story of Bemus Heights,

234-
Poem on the occasion

of Battle of Bemus

Heights, 236.

Poem on Saratoga, by
Alfred B. Street, 243.

The Surrender of Bur-
goyne, 254.

The Field of the Ground-
ed Arms, Saratoga,
264.

Saratoga, 268.

The Star-Spangled Ban-
ner by Butler, 273.

Ballston Spa., 190.

.v....

Burgoxjne Index.

355

Balcarras, Lord, Sketch

of. Zl-
Bancroft, George, 236.

Barlow, Joel, Sketch of,

203.
Barton, William, 26.
Battenkill, 63.
Bauman, Col. Sebastian,

101.
Bedlovv, Hon. Henry, 134.
Belden, B. L., 6 ; Sketch

of, 10 1.
Bemus Heights, Battle

of, 3, 241.
Bemus, The Correct

Spelling, 342.
Bennington, 29, 56, 215,

216, 224, 230, 234.
Bess, Queen, 227.
Bliss, Charles M., 226.
Boies, Lura A., Sketch

of, 1 19, 176.
Booth Bros., 12.
Botta, Anna C, 224.
Bouquet River, 44.
Boyd, Lieut. Thos., 293.
Brown, Col. John, 36.
Brunswickers, 57.
Bruce, Wallace, Sketch of,

225.
Brooks, Col., Sketch of, 89.
Brudenell, Parson. 112.
Bryant,WilliamC., Sketch

of, 218.
Bull Run, 255.

Bunker Hill, 2, 23, 92, '»o6.
Burgoyne, Gen., Sketch

of, I, 16, 21.
Burgoyne, Sir John, 7.
Butler, B. C, 273.
Butler, Col. Wm., 293.
Butler, Prof J. D., 66.
Canning, E. W. B., 75,

234.
Carey, Henry, 4.

Carlton, Gen., 2,37,68, 69.

Carnarvon, Earl of, 186.

Case, Rev. W., 41.

Catamount Tavern, 225.

Caulfield, Miss Susan, 6.

Champlain, Lake, 2, 34,59.

Chapin, Rev. E. H., 215.

Cilley, Col., 234.

Clinton, Sir Henry, 2, 22,

256.
Cobble Hill, 23.
Cochran, Deacon Isaac,67.
Coldstream Guards, i.
Collins, Isaac, 67.
Columbiad, a Poem, 204.
Commercial A dvcrtiser,

n8.
Copwell, Rev., 236.
Cook, Col. Thaddeus, 84.
Cook, Mrs. Rachel A., 190.
Cook, Ransom, 190.
Cooper, James Fen i more,

252._

Council of Safety, 220,
252.

356

Burgoyne Index.

if I

V *

Cummings, Rev. Hooper,

132.
Craig, Capt, 69.
Crandall, Chas., 268.
Crown Point, 2.

Davidson Sisters, 120.

Dearborn, Gen., ^y.

De Peyster, Gen., 5 7, 208,

254. 263.
Derby, Earl of, i.
Dieskau, Gen., yj.
Dinsmore, Robert, 62.
Disney, A., 68.
Drake, J. R., 264.
Duluth,a Half Breed, 130.
Dwight, Pres., 9, 105.
Dwight, Theodore, 124.

Edwards, Ed.. 66.
Evarts, Hon. Wm. M., 227.
Evening Post, N.Y., 218,
264.

Fay, Dr. J., 220.

Fay, Stephen, 220.

Fellows, Gen., 253.

Fitzgerald, Lord, 224.

Fish Creek, 28.

Fort Anne, 2, 261.

Fort Edward, 2, 29, 59,

120, 130, 189, 256.
Fort Edward Institute,

196.
Fort Independence, ;6.

Fort Hardy, 253, 256.

Fort Miller, 63.

Fort Plain, 196.

Fort Ticonderogu, 2, 34,

43. 53. 255-
Fort William Henry, 255.

Eraser, Gen., 18, 38, 63,

II I.
Freeman's Farm, Battle

of, 257.
Freneau, Philip, 38.

Gaine, Hugh, 67.

Gates, Gen., 3, 18, 29, 53,

88, 125, 256, 291.
George III., 4, 23.
George IV., 55.
George, Lake, 56, 75,252.
Germaine, Lord George,

113-
Glens Falls, N. Y., 134.

Golden Hill, Battle of, 67.

Gordon, Rev. Wm., 262.

Great Barrington, 218.

Greeley, Horace, 215.

Griswold, Rev. R., 27.

Hale, Mrs. Sarah J., 205.
Halifax, 16.

Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 264.
Hamilton, Alex., 6, 38.
Hastings, Warren, 6.
Hay, Hon. Wm., 120.
Hayes, Pres. R. B., 229.
Herbert, Wm., 186.

J«l«M«l»l»wl«'lfc

,,-l»9»?»-.

Burgoyne Index.

357

Herkimer, Gen., 36, 256.
Hilmer, Chas. D., 264,
Holden, Dr., Sketch of,

349-
Holden, James H., 349.
Hoosic Falls, 230.
Horicon (Lake George),

252.
Hoyt, Gen. E., 302.

Jefferson, Thos., 39.
Jennings, Rev., 216.
Johnson, Sir William, 28,

89, 108.
Jones, David, 128, 190.
Jordan, J. W., 75.

King, Rev. Jos. E., 195.
Knox, Gen., 18.
Kosciusko, Gen., 132.

Lamb, Col. Anthony,

lOI.

Lebanon, 74.

Lee, Gen. Chas., 8, 186.

Le Loup, a Wyandotte

Chief, 130, 190.
Lexington, Battle of, 67.
Liancourt, Duke de, 258.
Liberty Boys, 67.
Lincoln, Gen., 93.
Lincoln, Pres., 206.
Livingston, Gen., 8.
Locke, Hon. S. D., 230.
Lossing, B. J., 26, 56.

Maccaroni Club, 20.
Markham, J. C, 51, 71.
Marvin, James M., 57.
McCrea, Jane 128, 204,

206.
McCrea, John, 128.
McCrea, Rev., M., 202.
McNeil, Mrs., 130.
Meal Market, 67.
Mohawk River, 2.
Montgomery, Gen., 25,

128.
Montreal, 25.
Morgan, Gen., 2, 18, 112,

293-
Moses Kill, 132.

Mount Defiance, 87.

MunscU, Joel, 220.

Murphy, " Tim," 19, 290.

Newbury, Jeremiah, 268.
New Amsterdam, 257.
No well, Garrett, 67.

Oriskany, Battle of, 255,
261.

Page, Elizabeth, 232.
Paterson, 'j'j.
Peck, Rev. J. T., 195.
Phillips, Gen., 34.
Pittsfield, 220.
Poor, Gen., ']'].
Posey, Maj., 293.
Post, Daniel H., 347.

358

Burgoyne Index.

»: +..

V'.i

Prescott, Gen., 25.
Prior, Matthew, 23.
Prison Ship, 38.
Poultney Academy, 195.
Pullman, George M., 57.
Putnam, Gen., 16.

Quaker Springs, N. Y.,
64.

Raleigh, Sir Walter, 23.
Ramsey, quoted, 56.
Rawdon, Lord, 15.
Riedesel, Mrs. Gen., 6,

24, 130, 186.
Rivington, James, 96.
Rodman, Rev. Thomas

P., 229.
Rogers, Gen. Horatio,

/•

^'3-

SanJv Hill, N. Y., 120,

189.
Saratoga I.ke, 28.
Saratoga .Map, 57, 114,

231.
Saratoga Monument, 12,

104, 244.
Schuyler, Gen. Philip, 29,

56, 88, 255, 258.
Schuyler Mills, 63.
Schuyiersville, N. Y^ 128.
Shay, Dan, 78.
Skene, Philip, 29, 5':, 72.

Skeneshorough (White-
hall, N. Y.), 16, 56, 129.

Smith, William, o.

Society Library, N. Y., 9.

Stanley, Lady, 1 .

Stansbury, 93.

Stark, Gen., 2 1 7, 227, 228,
241.

Stark, Molly, 217, 222,
226.

St. Clair, Gen., 34, 43. 87,
88.

Steadman, quoted, 84.

Steuben, Gen., 92.

Stevens, Col., 88.

St.Leger, Gen., 89, 256.

Stockbridge Indians, 75.

Stone, Mrs. Charles, 133.

Stone's " Orderly Book of
Sir John Johnson," 257.

Street, Albert 13., 243.

Strong, Capt. John, 220.

Strong, Catherine, 220.

Sugar Loaf Hill, 43.

Taylor, Rev. H. 13., 196.
Three Pi vers, 37.
Trumbull, J., 15, 34, 43,
87.

Union Cemetery, Sandy

Hill, N. Y.. 1^0.
Union College, 236.

Van Doren, Rev. D., 254.

■iMiii V i li ii laiiiMii I ' ti lln i 'r"" *^** -\n

.- II,

Burgoyne Index.

351)

V'an Vccton, Col., 347.

Washington, Gen., 16,

vValloomsack, 231.
VValdenburg, J. F., 219.
Walworth, Mis. E. 11., 57.
Walpolc, Horace, 68, 69.
Walpole, Robert, 68.
Warren, Gen., 219.

Wayne, Gen., 88.
Williams, Roger, 26S.
Williams, Col. E., 75.
Williams, Rev. S., 65.
Wilkes, John, 23.
Wilson, Gen. Jas. G., 264.

Yankee Doodle, Origin
of, 20, 60.

ERRATA.

P^Re 37, 5th line from bottom, for "Thompson"
read Thomas.

Page 96, 3d line from bottom, for "mind," read
wind.

Page 102, last line, for " is" read are.

Page 113, 2d line Irom bottom, for " Ropes," read
Rogers.

Page 114,3d line from top, for "Lilliman," read
Silliman.

Page 188, last line, for " Appendix No. III.," read
Appendix No. X.

Page 258, 7th line from bottom, for " contemplat-
ed," read [)rcscnt.

^''<-'^g^ 335. /tb line from top, for " mauvis," read
Mauris.

Page 349, 7th line from top, for " Lucratia," read
Lucretia.